.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
09-21-2014, 12:22 AM
The golden son’s lips curl as the blood brute dips his head in acceptance of the challenger. A cool wind blows between the two, as a lady’s favor given in the last peaceful moment, caressing of the gold’s Spanish neck. Tassled lion tail curls and flicks back in forth as the energy builds in the prideful gold. He was ready for the dull peace of this place to end in a clash of hooves, sweat, and yes, even blood. Blood was not a savoy taste but oh how could you deny its bitterness when it is so viciously won. Did the gold rationalize it also meant his own blood might be shed? Of course that was stored somewhere back there in some deeply buried file, but it could not come forward when he was so blinded by the coming red.
All powers focused on that coming brute. Every muscle and nerve begging for the first crash. Waiting for the beginning of it all. It kept waiting, and moments dragged on. Front cloven hoof paws at the permafrost ground, as the blood brute came in his own time. Harks flick back, impatient for it all to begin. Earth eyes found their target focused, but there was no edge, no blood lust. A tension rose in that golden breast. No! Nares snort out his dissatisfaction. Whether from cockiness or disinterest this red’s rolling pace, set to his own time would not do. Proud twin horns shook out and called out a bitter sound of war. Herd-mate or not, fight hard damn you. If you’re not on the edge of your seat then you don’t belong here.
Red body shifts, and the Spanish neck of the golden son curls. Heart races and rasps against its walls, while breath comes fast and hard already to fuel the adrenaline. Now the warrior races to the left of the gold. Legs begin to dance in anticipation, ready to set loose. If that red fighter wouldn’t up the stakes, then the golden would drag him up with him. Even in their dancing the golden remains in the same place, ready to show the red just how serious any fight with the gold would be. Seconds tick down to, three, two, one. Blood coat comes to his side, but before the solid scarred shoulder can find the gold’s coat, the gold one is raised beyond its reach. Fore hooves push the solid youth off the ground and raise him above the earth.
Attacks fly at the same moment. A sting like a bee hits the golden barrel, then slides down, unzipping the flesh, and letting the precious red begin to flow. The gold’s mouth opens in release at the first blood stolen from him. Stabbing pain radiates up his spine and out to his cloven hooves. It was a shallow blow, a scratch really to what it could have been, but it was enough when combined with the need for a ramped up fight to push the gold’s intensity up to its maximum. What was going to be a planned, precise strike on the white patch of that stallion’s back becomes a pain fueled full hit. It blinded him to its aim, but not to its power. Full force was sent to snap out those cloven hooves with such viciousness. All in a manner of seconds the calm of this piece of the Basin was gone in a flurry of horn and hooves.
"speech"
TAGS :: @[Déodat]
WORDS :: 575
ATTACK :: 1/3
NOTES ::
SUMMARY :: Thranduil rears just in time to avoid Deodat's shoulder, but still gets scraped on his barrel. In retaliation and hoping to escalate the fight, he strikes out for Deodat's back, hoping to hit it before the red runs by.
INJURIES :: Shallow slash along the side of his barrel of his left side.
.
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
