.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-10-2014, 07:50 PM
|
Torleik
The beard of glory... Had Torleik known Déodat’s momentary belief that they were brothers in some twisted, part-of-the-same-collective sense, he’d have spat whatever mixture of cruor and saliva swam in his maw straight into the Blood Prince’s face. Brothers? Never. He would renounce this place before considering himself a comrade in any sense to this crazed, violent, power-obsessed maniac. And it made Torleik wonder, in those strangely lucid moments between pain and oxygen deprivation from Déodat’s body slam, what he was really fighting for. Though he had no way of knowing where his opponent’s thoughts lay, his own were coincidentally travelling a similar, parallel path. This stallion the Bloodskald was battling was supposed to be part of his herd, part of their home, fighting for the protection and sustainability of the Basin. Kick. Déodat had circled around and Torleik wanted to crush an ankle. How satisfying that would be to cripple this bastard and end the fight right here. The Andalusian’s agility, unsurprisingly, allowed him to avoid the maiming blow and anger surged within the Friesian. Die, the violent thought in his head snarled as Torleik snapped his crown up towards the sky, wishing to feel the pleasure of innervated, sanguineous flesh halting the momentum of his horns as he gored his enemy’s neck, imbruing them with Déodat’s filthy lifeblood. It was not to be. The tip of his necrotic-runed weapon caught his opponent’s cheek and fate spared Déodat’s eye from being skewered like a rotten peach. Shame. Blind fool anyhow. The though barely registered in his mind as the Bloodskald was distracted by Irelyn’s pain crashing through their bond. Oh gods! He felt saliva rush into his mouth, wave of vomitus nausea plummeting like a heavy stone into his gut as he turned to search out his companion. The hound had sunk her teeth into the meaty part of the owl-griffin’s wing, an agonizing wound compounded by her inability to escape Odette’s grip. ”!! No!” came Irelyn's simple, instinctual thought through their link and Torleik took a step towards the smaller fight. Panic of her own and rage from her bonded catalyzed the unreliable, budding magic Irelyn held within and the edges of her wings, beak and talons suddenly erupted in molten, dripping, liquid fire. The dual-horned demon hoped that magic would irreparably sear the inside of that foul hound’s filthy maw for harming Irelyn, and he felt a swelling of pride deep in his chest watching her peck at Odette’s eyes with intent to procure release while simultaneously trying to blind the dog. No more of his attention was allowed to be diverted to the companions’ separate battle once Déodat’s little tantrum stomp rocked the earth. Torleik’s head snapped around to see his more agile opponent charging once more as the ground shook all around them, head down and horn aimed for what the rabicano assumed was his middle. Did this usurper really think him so untested that being unbalanced would make him incapable of defending himself at all? Time was short, but his strategy was sound. Struggling to keep decent footing, the downfall of being a unicorn with solid hooves that could not flex and grip as other unicorns’ did, Torleik waited until the last possible moment to rip his front half up from the ground and rear high. The white-hot pain that lanced across his underbelly from the slice of Déodat’s horn did not distract him from his objective: bicycling his forelegs, the dual-horned demon sought to pummel the blood bay’s crown – and again attempt to break the bastard’s horn. And if that did not succeed, the Bloodskald had a secondary plan. Dropping his considerably muscular weight from above like the booming force of a vicious thunderclap, Torleik desired to crush Déodat’s back with the impact. It would be painful, slamming a freshly opened wound into the more lithe body beneath him, but no physical pain would prise from the demon his desire to win. ---------------------------------------------------------- [[WC: 655 | (3/4) Irelyn's molten dagger ability coats the tips of her wings, beak and talons in liquid fire, which she uses to try to get Odette to let her go. She pecks at Odette's eyes with her fire-coated beak, trying to blind her. Torleik rears when Deo attacks, trying to kick him in the head. Torleik drops from his rear, trying to fall on Deo's back and cause damage that way.]] "talk talk talk" |
![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Please tag me in all posts! Thank you!
