| Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5 |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate
Dream |
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No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
Perhaps Hector had not set his mind to the task so assiduously in recent times. Maybe that was why doubt had been so prevalent within him for so long now, reinforcing his longing to step down and start along a new path, corroding confidence and installing new conflict so that he knew not whether he was hither or thither. As adrenaline coursed like tonic through his bloodstream, the copper soldier felt the old thrill of battle reignite. Hot rushing excitement tickled the nerves beneath his skin, and legs tingled beneath the impact of weight thrown to maim another- though that was not really his intention on this occasion. His long tail snapped delightedly as the reek of her hot, feminine odour flooded flared, gasping nostrils, and observant tawny eyes sparkled, seizing eagerly the challenge she posed.
The mood of Sky Island was lost and forgotten as the throb of his quickening pulse intensified through reclined ears, drowning out the sounds and movements of those nearby. He and the flowery stranger seemed to be building their own exclusive atmosphere, an enticing rivalry that appeared only to inflate the closer they came together. She was no Morana though- the epitome of allurement; a weakness one so naturally reserved had not expected in his life at all.
Beneath a cloak of bronzing, heartening sunlight, Hector slipped by her left shoulder as intended, teeth grinding only briefly across the top part of her flank. He found no pleasure in the sensation of tearing flesh, no satisfaction in the tart clammy flavour the bite discovered, and released her quickly. This was not war. The sound of her pain (real or fantasy) drew his red cupped ears around instantly. For a second he thought to pause and check her; to assess the damage he had inflicted, but the skilled beast new better. His strong, lion-like tail veered left towards her, then again sharply right, whipping silky tendrils near where he supposed her face to be. With any luck they would irritate her pretty green eyes, sting, or stun her vision.
The stallion had not fled her side after the bite- he was not prepared to give any attacks intended by her, the ability to gather momentum. He imagined he could feel the radiating warmth of her as his shoulder pressed close. Still the novelty of her aroma filled each drawn breath and it was exciting, exhilarating; motivating and inspiring. Her hindquarters bunched and the weight of her seemed to lurch forward beside him. Hector moved instinctively before the rising curve of her rump. Already his weight was somewhat propped across his haunches after slowing considerably to focus his previous assault, and so he lifted not quite in unison with her, as though they were fresh practice-partners, dancing. Lengthening hind legs pushed him forward, and partly up all at once.
He was a far larger animal, longer, and as her kick evolved, the soldier’s left foreleg was probably reaching well past her tail; perched, curling as with her form, while his attention narrowed in on the next move above. His left shoulder was trying to lead his barrel into an intimate, graceless hug around her rear; shoulder sliding by thigh, then buttock, and his neck twisted above to allow bared teeth access again, potentially, to tight, mottled-champagne hide- this time in the region of her backside .
Presumably, without his body being directly in the impact zone behind the mare (he should have been slightly off centre after all and just over the top) her continuing kick might have been able to extend fully. Hector’s forward motion meant that he could not hold his position above her for long and his fore-quarters slid forward, down, into the thrust of her limbs. One of her flying hooves (he could not tell which), struck the lower half of his as it flailed the furthest away, and the sharp, unforgiving rim of it grazed the cannon bone as he descended. The copper hybrid winced and snorted harshly as the nerves and tendon beneath skin were knocked, stinging viciously, and he stumbled forward through the thick sand on the floor as pins and needles obscured sensation.
Again she squealed, and Hector’s arching crest shook ostentatiously in response.
706/800
Attack 2/3
Defence 0/1
(Notes:
Sorry about the confusion in post 1 with which attack/post he was up to. I hope this is easier to read.
Also, in the first post I used the verb careered.
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• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times
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[JUDGED] The Decider (Hector x Arvakl)
