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10-07-2013, 01:54 PM
He was certainly new to this land, but that did not make its inhabitants any less bound to the cyclical and inescapably similar patterns of behavior that all beings exhibited regardless of time and place. Torleik’s glacial eyes met Ulrik’s glare coolly, unaffected by the snapped response. “I never claimed Psyche was an effective leader. I cannot make a decision – I know nothing of her rule,” he grunted in response, attempting, despite himself, to show that he was not an ignorant fool: Torleik knew he was uninformed about much of this place and the machinations of its political engines. A snort escaped Torleik’s nares and he lifted his head. “Invited into your home?” he said with a hint of derision that was just honed enough to gouge beneath the skin. “A refuge? You invited me to learn, to follow – and for that I am grateful! But Deimos, no – he conscripted me! I would not be welcome here if I did not have something to give, something that half-shade of a horse could use,” Torleik snarled. He despised being used – and that was why he could not let Deimos rule. A leader needed to understand ruling was equal parts strength and violence paired with mercy and compassion. Torleik had no faith that Deimos truly understood the latter two traits in any form or fashion. It pained him that he was doing this, that he felt compelled beyond resistance to challenge the one single fucking friend he had in this place. Those who resided here were either mentally or emotionally broken – or some fucked up combination of the two. Where was the sense of community? The emphasis on family? On loyalty? He was removed from his thoughts when Ulrik’s stillness suddenly birthed a mechanical monster from the snow, red eyes ablaze. A shudder he tried to repress still rippled through his skin and Torleik took stock of his footing, making sure it was secure. And then he saw Kirchoff. A truly pained light blazed from Torleik’s eyes as he regarded the hellhound’s approach. “Kirchoff…” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “Please…” the stallion trailed. What could he say? He had played with this hound as a furry little pup, frolicked with him and been amused by his flailing, energetic antics. His soft spot for youngling animals had firmly placed Kirchoff in his heart, and Torleik loved the Engineer’s companion with the warmth and purity of love for one’s own family. Now even Kirchoff was aligned against him. Was doing the right thing worth this? The rock on which his resolve had been firmly seated was beginning to erode. This battle could not be fought and won while he still felt, so the rabicano stallion locked his emotions tightly away and prayed Kirchoff’s participation in this battle would not destroy the walls he hastily constructed. So it was that the shift in Ulrik’s eyes was met with an equally cold and dead stare, Torleik unmoved by the change. The fiery maw of battle was set ablaze by the demons in men’s souls and the machine of war put into motion by their mortal forms. It had begun. Torleik’s eyes roved over Ulrik’s body, taking in his horns set one atop the other, his cloven hooves and his more lithe form. The Engineer would likely be more agile, but his attacks would be more confined to the midline of his body. Both the mechanical wolf and the hellhound began to circle him and Torleik’s tail swished in agitation, a foreleg smashing to the ground in response to Ulrik’s warning gestures. Come for me, then, you bastard. The mad Engineer responded as if obedient to the order, springing forward and driving his horns towards Torleik’s chest. As he had anticipated, the black and bronze stallion was quick, and ignorance of a new opponent’s battle habits put Torleik just a split-second behind. This did not worry him overmuch; he was used to battle and the wounds it brought. Keeping his back legs mostly stationary, the bearded stallion pushed off with his forelegs, pivoting and angling his body to the left, away from Ulrik’s initial horn attack. The tip of the Engineer’s cranial weapon caught his shoulder and Torleik grunted as his flesh was torn with both motion and blunt force impact. As soon as his front hooves hit the snow his wounded shoulder snarled in pain. He gathered his back legs in a small hop to the left, then pushed off the selfsame haunches, angled back in the direction he had come, dropping his head and throwing it even more to the right so as to intersect his attacker in as perpendicular a motion as he could manage. He intended to catch Ulrik’s unprotected and vulnerable underbelly with his horns while the Engineer half-reared, though this attack sacrificed a measured defense against Ulrik’s bite. [[(WC: 807) | (1/4) | No magic. Only feels. Torleik is sad but determined to see this through, win or lose. He takes damage from Ulrik's horn attack on his right shoulder, localized blunt force trauma and ripped skin; mild trauma to underlying muscle. As Ulrik goes into his half-rear to bite Torleik's spine, Torleik mirrors Ulrik's first attack and tries to lunge and stab Ulrik's unprotected belly with his horns. As that may alter Ulrik's bite attack, the bite attack will be addressed next post. <--- I hope that's acceptable. Still mostly herp derping my way through this whole battle thing. -_-]] |
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No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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