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10-02-2013, 11:40 AM
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But your blade it might be too sharp The mare yawned. She was not a fan of these silly holidays. To the barbarian, they were meaningless. What purpose did it have to dress up in such ridiculous and impractical outfits? She glared at nothing in particular, though her vision seemed to avert its fiery gaze upon an innocent flower as she strode forwards. The blossom peered up in fear as a heavy hoof came down upon it and, before raising, gave a swift twist to ensure the plant was decimated underfoot. Her costume was simple yet in its simplicity came complete foolishness. Around her broad waist was a loosely fitted pelt, though the material did not exactly feel genuine. The leopard print was vivid against her blank canvas and was secured by a round pin upon her left flank. Her tail was knotted into a ponytail for an inconceivable reason and in her plait was a mock bone. Another fake bone adorned her maw, attached by a plastic fitting that linked over her nose and gripped slightly on the underside giving her the appearance of some sort of crazed shaman. The final insult was the foam club that was secured by ugly ties around her front left leg. It was just sort of ... there, for no real purpose. It was light, yet she could feel the ties rubbing and it distracted her greatly. The feeling was not pleasant, and all of this was the fault of Tharos. Damn that fool. Could he not have given her a more majestic costume? A knight maybe, or a fucking fairy princess? Anything was better than the 'cave woman', whatever that was. She turned to face her opponent, eager to take her irritation at her costume out on him. Her eyes settled upon a dark figure, his body cloaked in black with a horn slipping out through the hood, unable to be hidden beneath the fabric. It was an intimidating sight, but the mare stood tall and proud and simply arched her powerful neck at the sight of him. He was shorter than she, and his body lithe and powerful. She knew his speed would likely be his advantage over her, yet her bulk was strong and her body well endowed with muscles. If she could hit him, she hoped she could deal enough damage to slow the slimmer stallion. It was not long before he started the match, galloping head on. She galloped also, directly toward the stallion as if it was a joust. With his cloak, she knew his vision would suffer, increasing his blind spot. She hoped her attack would pay off, and she knew that if she could somehow move fast enough to get out of his limited range of vision, she could possibly deal a blow and dodge without injury - that was the theory, anyway. The stallion was swift and was soon upon her, and the mare shifted a pace to the left so that he would approach on her right side. As she neared, she realized his horn was much longer than her own and that if she attacked now, she was sure to be hit. There was no time to dodge the assault, however, so she decided she would take advantage of his attack by tilting her own skull toward his right flank as she passed by. As she passed, his horn caught her right flank and chiseled a deep gash into her side, slicing just behind her shoulder and causing the mare to grunt in agony, however she did not falter. Artemis hoped her own horn had had the same effect upon the stag but she had no time to ponder the outcome as she dug her heels into the soft, dry grass and came to an abrupt halt. Blood bubbled to the surface of her wound, spilling over in a thin lightning bolt that seeped down her shoulder and into the foamy instrument by her side. As she stopped, she turned 180 degrees clockwise in the hopes that she might be facing him, charging yet again in the last direction she had seen the stallion with her head low and horn primed, hoping to strike his hind flanks. It was likely that if he was still in the same position, and she did manage to hit her target, that the horn would strike his right gluteal muscle, however she had no time to pay attention to detail. This stag was strong. She had to be stronger. "speak" [744 words. 1/3. @[Deimos] Artemis decided this is a joust and charged head on, mirroring Deimos' attack before turning 180 and trying to charge at his hind quarters in an attempt to slice his glutes. Costume: Cave woman. Art is equally displeased. CLICK ME. WEATHER - It's a nice clear and mildly sunny birdsong day, 10am. SETTING - A grassy field that goes fetlock high, forgiving and not too wet. Some flowers and trees are around, a creek cuts through in one area near two trees.]  |
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