An informant's rank was one Azzuen could never see himself fulfilling; it took stealth, subtlety, a way with words and thoughts. This stallion was none of those things, at least not all at the same time, as would be required should he ever desire to fulfil such a rank. No, the physical, tangible rank of General suited him far better. Training of his body helped keep his mind sharp. Though it was not this way for many, it certainly worked for him.

Easy, smooth steps brought him onto the Fields, a land which he had recently visited and swiftly fled, due to the raging lightning storms cast down upon he and his mate by the inglorious Sun God. A soft snort rippled his nostrils at the memory, a tweak in his step as the scar upon his thigh tingled. It was a thin line, mostly covered by his thickening coat now. The stallion shook his head slightly, as if ridding himself of those past thoughts. He had to focus.

Battle was an honourable game for the stallion. Physical battles often won wars, but that didn't make the use of magic just as important. Azzuen ruffled the feathers that decorated his long, thick wings, stretching them out about half their full length before folding them near once more. He looked ahead, he spied the crafty little mare. He restrained himself from using his magic to enhance his sights, he would surely require those skills later on.

However, before he could get too close, and truly look her in the eye, she was off - and gone. The stallion snorted again, louder this time, surprised. Immediately he cast his crown around him, looking upwards, sideways, spinning upon a single hock so that he was facing 180 degrees from his original position. Concentration caused wrinkles to crimp his face, his ears pressed forward in attempts to hear a whisper, a hint of her whereabouts. Again, he resisted using the magic that would enhance his body.

It was time then, to engage his other magic. Azzuen held an affinity for electricity, though not as obviously as his brother had. He concentrated now, his grasp upon this magic was loose and barely there; he almost feared this magic, for sometimes it held disastrous outcomes. But here, in open fields, where the only obstacles one's body could be thrown against was grass and dirt, and where this was a test of magic, he held fast onto his resolve to use it.

He thought he heard a footstep. It was a breath after that, that his wings unfurled suddenly from his sides, making the radius of his magic all the broader, all the more powerful. An instant after that, he called upon it, and created the magnetic bubble that would repel all living things away from himself. Having his wings open served another purpose, as the many bugs and insects in the ground beneath him were driven further into the ground, he was lifted up by his own magic.

A slow, rhythmic beat was drummed by the strong appendages then, and the stallion hovered at least 15 feet in the air, clutching onto his magic that would send anything with a pulse away from him. His eyes, which were stained a brilliant electric blue, scoured the land before him, full of hope and anticipation that his opponent's position would be revealed.

[ 557 words.
Azz spins around as Xira flies over him, trying to look for her. He think he hears her land, or a footstep, and immediately spreads his wings and activates his repelling magic, using the magic as it reacts off other biological life in the soil to put himself in the air, hovering. ]