Hit me- It seems you have, mostly thanks to your magic. You were rather apprehensive at your magics' first appearances. Neither were wished for, in any particular way, and the drug magic... well, that was a strange discovery in and of itself. You were laying on the ground, lazing about and lamenting to yourself that you couldn't just become high by thinking about it when... you did! And while you were initially suspicious, an addict rarely stops to question the safety or validity of his drug supply. Besides, to find that you could simply wish yourself high and it would happen... sweet rapture, indeed.

Why you thought you could avoid the bone collar, you don't exactly know. Maybe you thought you could move with finesse and precision like a graceful ballerina but you were only fooling yourself. The collars dig deep into your flesh, cutting skin and muscle alike, leaving behind several puncture wounds your left shoulder that bleed profusely. Damn it, as if that shoulder didn't already have enough troubles. You don't think the stone that Colt lodged against your scapula will ever stop being a source of chronic pain. At least the snake has retreated farther up the Wildfire's neck. If you were not so high, you might wonder why a snake is allowed on your friend's back at all. It seems such an odd pairing- predator and prey, carnivore and herbivore joined together. You're sure there's irony to this situation somewhere, you just haven't found it yet.

But fools shouldn't waste their time contemplating intricacies obviously out of their reach; distractions are not welcome in battle. A shame then, that your friend has unwittingly succeeded in preoccupying your mind while the war rages. A new panic sets into your heart as you remember (how could you forget?) that the wings you've just assaulted are covered in fire. Hooves scramble beneath you as you suddenly panic, trying to stop the forward motion you'd been so eager to continue a moment ago. Your scream of fright mingles with the loud whooshing of wings beating the air, the soundtrack to your training ruining the serenity of the surroundings. Of course, you do not know that the fire (at this point) cannot hurt you. But how many times does one need to be burned before they stop sticking their hand in the flames to see if it hurts? You're no fool- fire means blackened hairs, melting skin, oozing flesh and a new home for maggots on your body.

Hell no- you're not going to be a maggot hotel. Not today.

Your leg, seemingly hell-bent on reminding you that it is hurt, creates its own type of fire while you jam your forelimbs into the ground and suddenly force yourself off to your right. Backwards would be ideal, since Gaucho's wings project so far laterally, but behind you is a tree. Yeah, that's right tree- I remember you're there, trying to act like you're just an innocent bystander. I'm on to you. You're not going to get the best of me a second time. Fool you once... But there is no time to teach the tree a lesson. There are burns to not be had, fire to be avoided... well, almost avoided.

A new development creates a new sort of chaos on the battle ground- a fire explosion. Well, that's rather curious, isn't it. It seems you may yet illuminate your hotel vacancy sign- open for maggots, all shapes and sizes, no discrimination. The fire assaults the very back of your left limb, crisping the edges of the wounds that the tree had so kindly created for you. Well, you suppose that's what you get for insulting a tree in your head. Seemingly just to add insult to injury, a portion of your tail hair is singed away, leaving you with a third less tail than you had before. Oh well, the bottom was just a big knot anyways. It's like he brushed your hair for you... sort of.

At any rate, you will not so easily be defeated. Trying to angle your body back towards him, hopefully swinging around the backside of his outstretched wing, you rear up and attempt to batter his ribs with your hooves, prepared for your left limb to scream again at this new assault to its well being. It's rather strange, all in all, to not be able to easily reach his spine with your hooves, as you are with other opponents who have mostly been smaller than you. As you fall back to the earth, trying to bite him just for good measure, you realize that you're going to have to quickly alter your typical battle strategy. It's not often you've had to fight a man of his size and caliber.


WC| 796
Post| 2/4
@[Gaucho]