There was no ripe flesh that met his jaws, only the empty taste and feeling of air. This left a sense of dissatisfaction and frustration behind. That feeling dissipated as he watched his horn pierce through the Bloodskald’s flesh. No red stained his horn, it was washed away by the downfall from above. Déodat took note as the rain began to solidify and pelt him with shards of hard ice. Despite the pain shooting through his frame with each solid chunk slamming into his back and rear, he managed to keep any grunts and groans from escaping from his lip. The Blood Prince wouldn’t let his foe have the satisfaction of knowing his pain, especially when so much more waited for him. A bit of hail never killed anyone, not even the kind summoned by magic.

As he carried himself toward his opponent, he felt his shoulder smash into his opponent’s side, sending yet another wave of satisfaction through him. With his blow came a wave of mild pain within his shoulder from using such force. Even with his own pain and potential bruise, there was that delight from knocking the very wind from Torleik. That was only the beginning, Déodat would hail down blows until his opponent breathed no more. Reality lurked at the back of his blood crazed mind. This stallion was his brother and a valuable warrior to the Basin. In that moment he accepted that perhaps, death wouldn't be a viable option for the Bloodskald, maiming on the other hand was a bit more plausible. He could knock the horn from his head, surely Odette would enjoy chewing on it.

The stallion circled about his opponent toward his right as Torleik caught his breath. He watched as the stallion’s hoof came out after his own ankle as he was passing around his opponent towards the right. His foes hoof just barely missed own ankle as he sought to draw to Torleik’s right side. Odette had maneuvered herself out of the way as the Bloodskald flung out his hind hoof.

As his opponent’s hooves came his horns, and Déodat maneuvered his face downward, only to find Torleik’s horns scraping up his right cheek, barely beneath his eye. Blood began to pour from the wound and it was joined by a feeling of sharp and defined pain. There would be at least one scar from this battle it seemed. It would simply be a reminder of his foe’s defeat and every time he would gaze at Déodat’s face it would mock the blow he received to his face.

All the while, Odette dealt with Irelyn. A loud yelp escaped from her lips as she felt both her bonded’s pain and her own as Irelyn’s claws sunk into her flesh. The white pup leapt upward and sought to grasp onto the griffin’s wing and pull her down with her. All the bloodlust pulsating through Déodat fed her own hunger, she wished to see the griffin’s blood pour out at her feet. In her predatory and instinctual mind, this glorified flying house cat was simply one thing, prey. Killing was melded into her very bones, Odette was bred to hunt, and so hunt she would.

Déodat’s bond with little Odette allowed him to see into her young mind, and for but a moment it pained him. The sweet natured girl had become a blood crazed beast simply because of him. He had longed for her to be a deadly hound of war, and here she was, fighting relentlessly for a cause that could very well blow up in their face.

”Don’t kill the griffin,” Déodat commanded to Odette. ”It fights for it’s own bonded.” Whether Odette heard or not, she gave no notion of such a thing as she continued to pursue her foe. His own attention snapped back to Torleik, he flicked his tail and he smashed his hoof into the earth, releasing a rattling earthquake hoping to throw his opponent off his feet. Even if he saw no fruit to his efforts there was still a slight smugness to the action. If the Bloodskald would use tiny shards of ice to bruise his flesh then he would use his own tricks.
Déodat himself was slightly thrown by the earthquake, but he still maneuvered his body so he would be attempting to drive himself forward at a perpendicular angle. He lowered his horn and sought to drive it deep into the other stallion’s ribs whilst Torleik was hopefully distracted by the earthquake occurring beneath his feet.

[2/4
WC: 757
Summary: Odette leaps up at Irleyn and tries to grab her wing. Déodat uses war stomp, and manuevers his body so he was facing Torleik perpendicular and charged forward while the earth was rattling hoping to drive his horn into Torleik's ribcage. ]
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