.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-07-2013, 12:47 PM
|
But your blade it might be too sharp Gnashers clamped down upon thick fabric. The surprise of her success quickly registered upon her face, replaced immediately with a smirk and determined, narrowed eyes. Her chest felt weak, lungs not nearly inflating as well as they should and flared nostrils struggled to suck in deep breaths, yet she did not let that deter her. Clamping down, she pulled forwards as Deimos pulled away and for a moment two were connected in a writhing dance of taught muscles and shaking heads. Their tango was cut short when Artemis heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. As she raised her legs to rear, she found the torn cowl handing from clamped jaws like a trophy. Hooves collided with flesh as she struck down and she snorted, heavy breath forced from her chest as her hooves were grounded. In the flurry of movement and blood, she hesitated. Her eyes found his skull, battered by her onslaught and growing ever closer to her body. The dagger aimed at the target painted with invisible lines upon her chest. His movements did not seem as fluid as they had been at the start of this match, yet her own were sluggish also due to the panting and heaving of her sides and the shallow gash upon her side. In an attempt to dodge, fabric still tight in jaw, she shifted to the left yet his weapon was too long for her to dodge effectively no matter how swiftly her bulk had moved. Her right shoulder felt skin tear under the pressure of his fine bayonet, skin and muscle carved finely by its slightly serrated teeth. Blood bubbled and burst over its ravaged dam, flooding in thin streams down her blank canvas and painting abstract figures to match the bloodied V upon her skull. Her grip on the fabric tightened as the pain burned at her side, causing her eyes to widen and ears to press flat upon her crown. She grunted, holding in the scream of pain that threatened to overflow. No. She would not show pain. Mother would never have allowed that. Pain was weakness. Silence was strength. She would defeat this demon, or lose with honor. Instead she stood fast as his sword unsheathed from her skin. Her head pushed forwards and teeth parted as she attempted to throw the black fabric toward his face in another endeavor to blind the reaper. Once thrown, she hoped it would serve its duty, at the very least distracting the powerful beast as she backed up a pace, lowering her lead simultaneously as she dug in her heels and thrust forwards, striking steady and true toward his front left shoulder in an attempt to plunge her blade into the depths of sinew and toned muscle. Her thrust was not as powerful nor as fast as she would have liked, as the pain from her shoulder slowed her considerably and it pained her to put weight upon it. The muscle twitched and convulsed with every movement, arguing against further war yet she ignored it, determined to hit her mark. "speak" [512 words. 3/3. @[Deimos] Throws the torn hood toward Deimos' face then lunged the tip of her horn directly toward his left shoulder in an attempt to pierce. OOC- Thanks for the enlightening fight! I know I have much to learn but I hope maybe we can spar one day so I can improve.  |
![[Image: 258b4tv.jpg]](http://oi41.tinypic.com/258b4tv.jpg)
