Nothing every really seems to go as planned, does it? Certainly, that is the case with my spar against my king Midas. Taking him on was foolish from the start, but sometimes I suppose I'm just that type of fool. He has shown my weaknesses and yet taken pity on me. The mark of a good king, indeed. Point out my flaws and let me learn from them. In this case, my flaw is not my own fault, but simply a characteristic of my body: my lack of speed. I am heavier than my king, and though I try to reach his flanks, he is faster than I am and moves away with ease. My flints land hard on the firm ground and I grunt. The sweat that drips down my face and into my eyes blinds me to his response of a swishing tail, and I squeal with annoyance as his tail whips me in the face, stinging. I shake my head, the parts of my two toned mane not already pasted to my neck flinging and slapping me in the face. Body dark with sweat, sides heaving to get clean, dust-free air into my lungs.

Midas does not seem to mind the dust as much as I do, perhaps being from the Throat for so long he is accustomed to it in ways I could never be. He spins on his haunches and comes at me in all his painted, powerful glory. I feel there is nothing I can do to move out of the way, though I try with little hope of success. My flints move my body sideways, but it only gives him more room to sidle up next to me. His shoulders, defined muscles rippling, come at me, the right one plummeting freely into my own. I grunt as he knocks me to the side and I try to brace myself, holding my own wait and perhaps some of his as well. His teeth, unstained and yet so much more successful than my own, reach out for me, seeking to give my neck love bites. Love bites! Midas I do not feel that way and OUCH! please let go of my once pretty already marred pelt. I know I'm not as handsome as you but please don't make it any worse! A blood vessel or several pop under my skin and as his teeth hold tight I know I will have yet another bruise there. I shake my head, neck, and shoulders violently, knocking him from me. Pistons move me back and away from Midas quickly, in case he is thinking of any last second attacks just to make his point.

I wheeze and cough, trying to shake free the gunk that has found it's way into my throat. A dry mouth, desperate for water. I turn my crown up to look at him and see his calculating gaze, his rippling form. Clearly, there is much I have yet to learn, and perhaps one day I can bring myself before my king again and show him how I have improved, maybe even to best him. Until then, I shall admire his battle prowess from afar. I cough again, and hear paws scurrying toward me. Damaris is at my side, glaring accusingly at our king, and she noses my legs, licking my leg with the least amount of saliva that she can. It stings a little, but I appreciate the gesture. I glance from her to Midas. "It has been an honor to spar with you, Midas." I bow my head, showing my appreciation and respect for his might.


"Words."

Defense post.
WC: 603
OOC: Got hit in shoulder and neck bitten. Pretty straightfoward. Ready for judging ^_^

Rostislav

more than a drunken fool