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03-14-2015, 05:18 PM
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Bucephalus
There's something just magical about flight. Period.
-Graham Hawkes She greets him with teeth bared, with fire in her eyes and acceptance falling from her lips with all the ferocity of a hunting cat ready to tear shit up. However she seemed to take pause at the arrival of the Morningstar's armor, and he flashed her a toothy smirk. All was fair in love and in war. He could practically see her mind whirling, and it excited him all the more. Where would she attack? Could those broad hooves of hers crush his metal like foil? His blood was boiling, and impatiently he pawed the ground, gold eyes locked onto the draft mare. And then, she charges, moving towards me with bared teeth, thistles trampled under her hooves. However the black stands his ground, watching the much thicker mare barrel towards his lithe body in a reckless dash, an all-too predictable frontal attack. The black was a tactician, a man of thought and strategy... and this was one that more often than not failed against opponents unless they were bulkier or slower. She lunged, and with ease he pinned his ears back and ducked his head even as she thrusted her own out, her teeth snapping at the air where those ebony ears had once been. Seizing a chance Bucephalus jerks his head up, hopefully hitting her jaw with the plates across the back of his head and neck. Perhaps that would rattle her brains enough to realize charging from the front was a downright idiotic move, unless one had an ulterior tactic...which she did not seem to have. As she runs past he twisted and lashed out with hind feet, hoping that the spikes on the back of his hocks meet their mark somewhere in her flesh. The black whirls with her once all four feet return to the earth, facing her, head low and neck arched, all three peaks of his armor's horns aimed at her. He did not move from his position, merely flash her a mocking grin and unfurled his right wing, sweeping it out in a mockery of a bow. The laughter, the scorn, is clear in his golden eyes and amused smirk, his anger and boiling spirit directed into a focus as sharp as a blade. Yet he could not help but just grow more... infuriated. He had come here for fire! For the sound of hooves on flesh, screams in the summer air and blood dripping from wounds! Not for a bitch's lazy attempt at an attack! "This doesn't appear to be much of a 'fight'. Should I let you get a couple hits in to feel better? Poor lamb, can't even hit what's standing still right in front of her." His voice rings out, anger and mockery dripping from every word, every syllable. He stamped a hoof again, pawing the earth in agitation. The thistles clung to his soft feathering, irritating and infuriating. "Have you ever even fought before? I've never seen anyone as slow as you, mind and body." He spat, standing his ground. She would come to him or they would stand as statues of battle within this meadow. He would settle for nothing less than this mare hurtling herself to her own defeat. OOC: WC: 536 according to Wordcounter.net Attack: 1/3 Summary: Bucephalus ducks his head to avoid her teeth getting his ear, yet as her head moves over where his ears would have been he jerks his head back, hoping to hit her jaw or face with the armor plates across his head and neck. Then as she moves past him he kicks out with his hind feet to try and hit her with the armored spikes on the back of his hind legs. Once his feet touch the earth he turns to face her, then taunts her and stands his ground, waiting for her to attack again. Tag: @[December] Other: Armor Ref Forgot to add this though don't know if it's needed XD |
Pixel by Aud
