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Played by Offline all staff [PM] Posts: 9 — Threads: 5
Signos: 914,323
Official Novus Account

Battle Type: BATTLE 
Prize: Nothing//Experience pts!!

Character #1: Damascus.
Bonded: A realistic companion - Long-eared Jerboa
Magic: none
Armor: none

Character #2: Aryel
Bonded: none
Magic: none
Armor: none
Weapons: none


As a colt Damascus's most favourite fables had been the ballads of warriors and valiant victories, the recapturing of distressed damsels from ruffians, the triumph of an unlikely hero over evil and so on. Dreams were what they had become, precious dreams; the riches of the poor. Of course, the lad had never truly expected to ever amount to anything like it - poets didn't write from slavers dungeons, so the servant to the stars had believed that he would never accomplish anything worthy of ballad-like heroism. 
Or so he had thought. The tides had changed, and now an altogether different moon rose over the ember now. He was free and he now had a life to call his very own. 

Heroes ought to be handsome, or so Damascus thought. The stag had little notion of what was attractive and what was not - he'd never seen an ugly fellow, nor a devilishly handsome one... had he? In his wondering mind he hardly ever gave much thought to his own appearance, though he could for now agree that he was happy with the skin he was in. He looked normal. 
Heroes also must also be strong, fierce and brave - or so they had seemed in the tales told to him from dank corners of the dungeon. Damascus had no real idea on how to accomplish this besides practise, and if he was to truly be a warrior of the Dusk Court he certainly ought to shape up. Hill work would become a key element to his schedule, a daunting task involving romping up endless ascents in order to build back muscle. Dohv had told him to do it so, as always, he did.

Experience on the battle field and the ferocity garnered from a hundred fights came from doing just that - participating in spars with worthy teachers, losing occasionally, etcetera. So it was with a great lump in his throat and heavy wings that the gangly stag sailed under a wall of god-like mountains, his heart and mind firmly set on finding a sparring partner in the Bellum Steppe. It was sundown - his most favourite time of day.
The warrior landed with a thud of monolithic hooves and a swoosh of folding wings, the lad's head held curious and high as he found his way around a flat, grassy stretch of prairie. No one should interfere a spar here - no animals would cross their path he assumed, and the terrain seemed quite agreeable save for a few nasty rocks. Sheepishly the colt grazed his chin upon his shoulder, gaze cast over his surroundings in search of a potential partner before he ushered a bellowing challenge.
"I Damascus!" he would begin, taking his maw to the air as he expelled his mighty voice from his lungs. "Fight you me - Wish I to learn!".
And so began his wait; His cards were dealt.


Summary: Damascus arrives at the Bellum steppe, swoops in and lands. He finds himself on an agreeable battleground on a calm stretch of field with just a few rocks to look out for - he then proceeds to call out for an opponent!
A little translation:
"You fight me - I wish to learn"

Attack Used:
Attack(s) Left:
Block Used:
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: NONE

Response Deadline: 8th June.
Tags: @Aryel @Elkayell @kay @sid 

Played by [PM] Posts: N/A — Threads:

Aryel was not the type to handle forced inactivity well. She was eternally grateful to the horses of the Day court for taking her in and caring for her while her battered body healed, but days of nothing but rest and taking it easy was starting to drive her up the goddamn wall. She hadn't flown in what felt like ages, and the mere presence of a roof and walls was beginning to make her feel claustrophobic. Not to mention that she had yet to find Java. It was driving her insane to know he could be out there alone. The moment she felt well enough to leave the safety of the court walls, she was off, nothing but a shadow across the desert sands as she winged her way south towards the mountains.

As she crested their peaks, rejoicing in the feeling of wind and sunlight, she caught sight of the rolling steppes spreading out before her. A wave of nostalgia rose up at the sight, so similar to the northern prairies she had been born in. She tucked in her wings and dove, squinting into the rushing wind and whooping with glee as the ground loomed before her.

Before she could be dashed to pieces in the dust, she flared her wings and rocketed upwards again, finally leveling out into a steady glide high above the ground. She flew in slow, lazy circles, riding the wind up and down and surveying the hills beneath her. When the distant bellow rang out, her ears perked in interest, and she broke away from her circling and headed towards the source of the cry, an answering neigh carrying through the air. Part of her knew it was a bad idea to put her still-healing body through both a long-distance flight and a spar, but she was desperate to burn off some of the frustration building up within her. 

Spotting the dark form below was easy, but as she glided down, hooves outstretched to meet the ground in a running gallop, she began to think she might have bitten off more than she could chew. The stallion before her was massive in comparison to her, and scarred by gods only knew what. Still, she was never one to back down from a challenge. She cantered to a stop before him, brows furrowed and a challenge glinting in her eyes. "You wanna fight, huh?" she muttered, dipping her head to display the black horns raking back from her skull. Her wings flared at her sides, the feathers rising up to seemingly double her size. If he was looking for a battle, she'd happily oblige him.

The other was only given a moment to prepare before she was off, hooves cutting into the turf and sending it flying behind her as she charged. Head remained down and shoulders were thrust forward as she galloped at him, the base of her horns aimed at his chest with her six-hundred-pound-odd weight behind them. Perhaps there were fancier martial arts, but she had spent her formative years among her father's kind, who tended to favor a more primitive approach to combat.


Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: None

Response Deadline: 6/7/2017
Tags: @Damascus @Elkayell @kay @inkbone @sid

Played by [PM] Posts: N/A — Threads:


Waiting was perhaps one of Damascus' strong suits and after his challenge was ushered, his hallali sent to the fray, there was naught left to do but exercise his great talent for patience; one that to any warrior's disbelief involved flower picking and humming. A tune fell from behind the stag's lips as his hooves took him romping over the grasses, nose pressed curiously into the shrubs with the plot to pick the brightest daisies.
Dohv, on the other hand, was taking a far more militant approach. Standing upon the coal colts whither, a scowl firmly etched upon his face, the creature of no more than an inch or so tall was preparing his own self in the prospect of battle. The jerboa's beady eyes scoured the horizon, acting as eyes for them both given Damascus' pair of sight givers hung well below the hight of the grass. Damascus had by now found a rabbit's burrow and his nose was half way inside, the prospect of it ever coming out in one piece lowering with every second more he spent in there, wondering why he couldn't breathe.
"Ahh, Dohv" the creature came to whisper telepathically to his bonded. "Breathe I not."

If aligators could yawn, surely jerboas could groan - perhaps that was the disgruntled, somewhat beastly noise that escaped the colt's bonded as he clambered from his post at the boy's whither and sprung into place beside his eye  - which was now the only piece of Damascus' face above ground. Without much question of how to get him out (Jerboas were experts on all matters involving warrens and burrows) Dohv waited a few moments with a scowl on his face, purely to scold the boy for his idiocy before he got to work on furiously digging at the edges of the nose-trap.

Just when Damascus' eyes began to droop, the effect of having no oxygen for half a minute taking it's effect, the thunder spoke.
"You wanna fight, huh?"  

The burrow-diver and his digger froze solid, the realisation setting in after a short few moments that, as requested, a rival had actually appeared. "MMMMM!" the trapped one came to hoot into the trumpet of rabbit warrens, flushing one or two rabbits from their happy homes (Happy until today that is). Stomping urgently upon the earth, buckling his hind legs, Damascus attempted pull his snout from the grips of the hollow with all his might as the approaching music of galloping hoofbeats filled the atmosphere with a dark urgency. 'Stops!' he wished to bellow as his force waned and strength depleted (no oxygen tended to do that), though it was through Dohv's digging and one final pull that the colt managed to pluck his nose from the depths of the burrow all in time to face perhaps an even greater rival.

Gasping, Damascus' shoulders shifted under the threat of the beast storming toward him.Purely out of instinct, Damascus crouched low as he continued his gasping for breath, praying as he slunk under the wake of the monster that dizziness and the grips of syncope would pass over him. The colt soon began to fumble, tearing his feet across the earth as he pondered what in Tempus's name he ought to do. He wished to learn to fight, not to actually fight! Damascus had next to no notion of how he was to survive an attack, nor present an effective one to his opponent. Should he flee?
Dohv had by now taken refuge in the hole that had until moments ago swallowed his friend's nose, watching with concern through the small window the gap in the earth provided. The battlefield was certainly no place for a mouse, though it certainly was not fitting for Damascus either.

She approached. A woman of wings and goose-coloured fur, her horns lowered like daggers in his direction. There was no way in Novus that Damascus would rise to attack that, so as he cowered in the shrubbery with the rogue approaching he set the smallest of plans into motion. His block was, for the most part, ninety-nine percent instinct and one percent tactics.
A swoop to the shieldmaiden's left was how he was to begin, hind legs cocked and striking without much aim toward those piercing horns, instinctually seeking to fumble out of her way with wings forgotten and flared - and, Though his stamina already waned greatly from his previous encounter with the warren, the oxygen filling his lungs was slowly pulling him out of dizziness. Were she to fall for his plot and aim her horns at his former location, Damascus was soon to flick his rear hooves over the forehand of his left front, aiming his chest high with gangly strength as he aimed his shoulder toward her back-left stifle, all with the plot to send it out from under her. 


Summary: Not really sure what a block is? So I just had him run out of the way and kick out! Damascus gets his head stuck in a hole lol and only frees himself just in time to BLOCK aryels attack and then attempts to barge his shoulder into her hind end.

Attack Used:
Attack(s) Left:
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: NONE

Response Deadline: 10th June.
Tags: @Aryel @Elkayell @kay @sid 

Played by Offline sid [PM] Posts: 59 — Threads: 4
Signos: 6,425


Due to not replying within the time limit, @Aryel forfeits the fight and @Damascus wins! This thread will be moved to the IC Thread Archives forum.

  • Participate in a Battle or Challenge: +1 EXP to Damascus
    • Win a Battle: +1 additional EXP to Damascus
    • Total: +2 EXP
  • Participate in a Battle or Challenge: +1 EXP to Aryel
    • Total: +1 EXP


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