’I look ridiculous.’ A leather belt wrapped around my barrel, just tight enough to keep from sliding about, and was topped with a shiny letter ‘T’. Layer upon layer of golden chains draped around my neck, glimmering in the sunlight as I marched forward in search of my opponent. They gathered uncomfortably on top of my shoulders. With every step I took, golden hoop earrings bounced against my skull obnoxiously, swinging about every time my ears flicked. My mane had been teased and rubbed into what was essentially a massive knot that ran down the length of my neck, the ebony hairs appearing to be an afro Mohawk. Hell, if anything, at least I would not be blinded by my hair getting in my face. But, my face itself did feel a little odd. A thin layer of pine sap had been smeared down my cheek, chin and over my top lip. The sap had been topped with dried out moss to give me a short beard, and I prayed to the gods that I would be able to wash this shit out when this was done. You may be wondering how I acquired such a lovely costume. I say, we will go with “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Suddenly a loud battle cry brought me to full alert as I spotted the yarn and moss covered hybrid that was rushing towards me. Quickly I tried to assess my target. Obviously, wings were a major advantage, but only a coward would stick to the air the entire time. This stallion was no coward, not based off his oncoming charge. Hopefully his wings would make him a little less graceful when grounded. Potentially lethal antlers balanced on his crown, long enough to pierce the flesh without getting too close. That was not what worried me though. Why was it that every winged horse I had ever met had to have some sort of fire power? I was just now growing hair back from the last fight involving fire magic. Lips pulled into an angry scowl as I realized that the fiery wall grew as it came closer, becoming completely unavoidable. The wider the arch got, the thinner the wall of flames became though, and I braced myself for their impact. Intense heat burned at my chest and face, some of the moss of my costume burning off. I shut my eyes quickly to prevent any damage to my sight, but I yelled as the flames licked at my skin before they disappeared.

My eyes opened just in time to catch the hybrid’s slight change in angle, keeping myself braced and my horn angled towards him. The hybrid had expected as much, and my horns caught into his rack and jerked my crown back in a painful jostle. Our left shoulders collided, and I grunted in pain as something sharp scratched along my neck. The chains I wore blocked most of the spikes, but the brute’s collar had left a small trail of scratches along my boa, just above my now throbbing shoulder. The sheer force alone had pushed me back, even though I had braced myself, dragging my hooves along the earth and digging small ruts into the grass. With my horns now caught in his antlers, I realized that the hole of my larger horn had gotten trapped on a tine of his rack. Quickly I swung my hind legs to the right to avoid any potential bites the brute may have been considering.

With an abrupt jerk to the right, I yanked my crown in the direction of the mutt’s back in an attempt to break off the tine that had caught me. Simultaneously as my head twisted to the right, my jaws lifted to the left. The closest flesh was the hybrid’s cheek, and I assumed that in order to avoid my gnashing teeth the stallion would try to tear away and help in my breaking free. That is, unless he wanted to be stuck to me with my teeth gnawing away at his face. Finally freeing myself from his rack, I reared up to balance on my hind legs. My forelegs battered away in front of me in an attempt to scrape at the hybrid’s left shoulder, right where he had tackled me. My left leg moved a little slower from my shoulder pain. Angling my horns by craning my head to the right, I threw my weight downwards. My goal was to slash at the warrior’s wing, where the appendage attached to his body. I wanted to render it completely useless, at least enough to prevent anymore fire walls. And if he were to dodge backward, there was still hope that I could catch the edge of his wing and take a few feathers with me.

OOC: Panzram is dressed as Mr. T!
Word Count: 799 (So close!)
Attacks: 1/2
Closing defense: 0/1
Injuries: Severely bruised and banged up left shoulder, slows his left foreleg. Scratches that go sideways across the left side of his neck.

Attack summary: When his horn caught, Panz swung his rear to the right so he is now facing Gaucho's left side. Panz tried to free his horn by suddenly twisting his head to the right, trying to break off the tine that is caught while at the same time trying to bite Gaucho's left cheek. Once free, he reared up to try and kick Gaucho's left shoulder before slamming his weight down. He lead his weight with his horn to try and slash or gouge at Gaucho's left wing.