It was utter madness. Sheer chaos. And he loved every moment of it. No blade touches his flesh. No pain singes his hide. A hurricane of horns and blades the golden breathed in the air with a vicious power. Yet war will not be made a playdate, even for the lover of chaos. He was not invincible, and he was not all powerful, and fate was ready to remind him of such.

Haldir stood still, his attention captivated by the udder shrill sounds of pain echoing off the wolven creature ( @Mesec ). He had never heard such a cry before. The sound of agony, terror, and ferocity wrapped in one, and it froze him with both fear and curiosity. Even the mists at his feet ceased in his deep thoughts. Yet it is never wise to stand captivated in battle, and now he would learn that lesson as well. A tingling runs of his spin, and the stag mistakes it for his nerves, a shiver ( @Ulrik scorpion). He would regret that. It creeps up onto his shoulder and stops, pulling at his hairs to cling on. Harks fall back and his head moves to look, but it is too late.


---------------------------

Blood had splattered up on the golden’s armor and coat from a hit, though on who and where he did not know, or care. He tore and rampaged through the madness, gripping his polearm with tight force and a grin barely discernable. From out of the shifting shapes and through the walls of mists come glimpse of brown ( @Megaera ). No longer to his side this was straight at him, but he took little notice, she would fall before his blade like all others. He would get little chance. The arresting change in the core that linked him and his bonded, caused pause, and when the golden had yelled his name out, his grip on the pole had loosened, then closed back again on nothing. Nothing. And a shout of his name rose above the roars, ( @Hotaru ) but was lost in his own storm of shock. His eyes growing wide, rolling whites.

Shock, fiery and incredible, rose on his face, blocking Haldir’s struggle for a moment. Where. What. The possibility of his being taken wrapped in such impossibility it was nearly invisible. That is until he sees the bay femme. No, the bay bitch in front of him with a pole of steel and leather in her possession. The shock and horror began like paper to burn, fast and hot. Open mouth of shock twisted into bared teeth, and harks slid back contorting his face to a devil. No one took from him. No one stole from him. No one with any hope for seeing another dawn touched his prizes. A cloven hoof steps forward and slams on the ground, silent but still threatening. Oh that girl would pay. For when he wrestled it back from her grubby filthy disgusting mouth he would see it find her tender flesh.

The golden would never get the chance. A screech of pain barely calls above the battlefield madness, but it catches his attention at once. This was not death cry of a wolf, nor a howl from a wounded equine. It bellowed, and shrilled, unmistakably like that of a deer. The shockwave of his bonded’s cringe hit him like a bolt of electricity to the chest. All anger cuts from his face and turns, towards the sound, earth eyes wide with disbelief. And through a clearing battlefield he sees the antlered shape drop to the earth.

No. NO NO.. “HALDIR!” It came like nothing ever heard from the golden lips. It was gripped in fear. Harrowing, total fear. He hadn’t seen it. It couldn’t be. He felt sick, and weak. He didn’t even have the processing to detest such emotions or weave the lies to weed them out. This was much deeper and darker. This hurt and cut like a wound in places he thought he had sealed long ago. All those seasons of begrudging acceptance of that little shadow, all those moments of anger and discord, they had come to mean something in a way nothing else had in years. And that thought terrified him all the more as he stared at the crumpled shape. A second seeming like an eternity.

Before his earth eyes the shadow morphs, and an antlered crown rises back up. Like the flickering off of some hellish light the golden falls from terror to a cold stone. He breaths again, as if he had held his breath for ages, gasping and desperate. And for what seemed the hundredth time in the single moment his expression morphs. The wilds of battle and unrestrained chaos throwing it all out for any to see, when it usually would lay locked. Haldir, he needed to get to Haldir. But there was a stone in his chest, pressing against his lungs and heart. And he hated it. He hated that he needed to be there. The detest of his vulnerability bloomed upon his countenance like the clouds from a bomb site. How dare the world. How dare he be forced nearly to his knees with care. It pricked at the golden’s mind, bristling down his spine. And as his flaming earth eyes looked up they found the shape of bay. All of his fires roared to life, and the chains of blame fall on her neck by some twisted psyche, marking her flesh like a target.

Had she taken the time to step back, or attack? It didn’t matter. Had his own blade found his flesh in these moments? How could he possibly have noticed against the bleeding cuts on his soul?! The roar of battle rose in his ears again (the wolf attacking again), and fuels the earth eyes raging with fire and brimstone. Finally his stillness breaks and he surges forward like a wraith, vicious, maddening, and all consuming. The place of the blade and the mark of her own weapons have burned and he notices them not. He is blind to his danger again, and wants only to sink his hungry steel into her. The collar about his neck, false in smooth surface, hungers to let out the spikes and stain their tips with blood again. So he charges, hoping to collide and find some satisfaction in hearing her howl of pain.

Does he hit? Does she? Who draws blood from who, he can not even begin to fathom. The piercing of a blade or bone would do nothing but join the burning blaze that lathers his coat in sweat beneath his armor. Besides, he pulls back. Quick as he surged forward with a blood lust, the golden rolls back twisting away.


---------------------------------------------------

The shadow Haldir stands shaking his coat with vigor. His own thoughts till jumping and buzzing. He had been turning his head to look, when it struck. A flash of metal, a sounding gear, and then ZAP! A fire cold and sharp, like needles digging in, sings across his body, and jolts him. He had bellowed out (the one the golden had heard), and his head had twisted around to finally see the parasite upon his shoulder. Yes, a parasite. Lean body shivers with remembrance at its electric echoes. That’s when he had dropped to the ground.

He had rolled. Haldir had rolled trying to rub the creature off of him. Anything to stop it from shocking him again. Now here he was standing, shaking off the dust. His sides still heaved with the effort. Shouts start to find his ears again and he looks at the confusion, a whirling mass of bodies and the rising roar of battle growing again. With large pale eyes the stag turns his high crowned head to the growing chaos. A multitude of shadows shift between the legs of the horses. Fire and hell rain upon them but some still creep closer, and the stag’s eyes grow wide, and his sides tremble out a snort.

But this was not the babe of yesteryear. This was Haldir. The golden had called on him. And he was not about to disappoint the golden. Antlered head swings up while thin legs dance him forward.

Then a flash of gold comes into his view. The golden. The Laurelin had torn across the battlefield, slamming and shoving, hooves tearing up the ground with the power splitting through them. He had closed his armor, so that his golden back shone, for it weighed so heavily on him. There’s little need to translate the golden’s thoughts. His rage at being made to feel, to care for such a creature drove his madness back into battle. It seemed to happen more and more. Like with the elk hunt and the herd meeting. He let it go. Let it out. What was concerning was it continued arising.

Yet now they were together, and the golden was bent on the single purpose. His head bends low, with horns brandishing threat to the shadows of wolves. It was a dangerous, foolish move. While he could snap it up to catch a wolf little could be done from this position if others about it desired revenge. But he was in the throes of battle, the rage of anger, and would see the end of the madness. Haldir, empowered by his bonded, charged forward again with him, his antlers swinging low and sharp to catch some wolf upon their ends. Together they charged into the fray, into the madness, into the chaos.


OOC ::TEAM MOON GODDESS
After feeling Haldir notice Mesec/wolf, and hollering his name, Thranduil notices his polearm is gone, but has no time yet to turn on Meg. The shock of Ulrik’s bug is felt through their bond and when Haldir rolls trying to get it off, Thranduil thinks his deer his hurt worse. So he turns and lets his frustration loose on Meg. He charges her, hoping to sink the spikes in his collar into her, then turns away and rushes to Haldir, closing his armor as he goes (it was too heavy to run fast). The two charge against the wolves together aiming their horns at any they come across.

Attacks:
Meg: charges at her with his collar
Wolves:: both Haldir and Thranduil charge with horns.



"Speech"