I am struggling, weakened in this fight to defend my homeland. Even with rage, adrenaline, and pure force of will, I do not see a happy outcome. I am not just defending my homeland, defending the glorious names of Midas and Ghost, not just defending my title. I am defending my child, Vitani. Her cries in the background pierce my heart in a vicious stab in a way that my horns fail against Aviya's armor. I hope that perhaps she will be bruised by my attack, but my horns are no match for the metal, and her blood remains unspilt. In a moment of weakness, of foolishness, I close my eyes in regret, in disappointment, in... something more than I can say.

I open my eyes but it is too late to block her incoming attack. Her horn fails to impale its target head on, but succeeds in piercing the flesh an inch or so deep. A cry of pain forces past my lips, and I feel my left hind buckle as she pulls her horn back up. Did she leave glass inside? I don't know how glass horns work but anything left inside the wound may create infection - if the leg wound itself doesn't kill me. She turns away and I try to gather myself. Hobbled by pain, it is difficult to move but I manage to pull away from her just as she levels a fierce, tightly wound kick toward my front left knee. Mere inches spare me another crippling blow.

Another howl of pain echoes in the darkness, but is it from me, or Damaris? 'ROSTI!' She wants to come back, to save me. Little do I know that if I die so will she, so in my mind the safest thing for her is to be separate. 'Go. Vitani. Guard!' The command is perhaps the smartest thing I've done this entire night. I think that this is, that this is the end of me. I test my leg to see if it can bear weight and find it cannot. But then, out of the darkness, there is movement. It's not the movement of the fighters, no, but rather something - plantlike? I start to feel the tenderness in my leg fade, and gently I test it again for my weight and find I can support myself. Sure it hurts like the devil but I can use it, and I know that I will recover - at least from that wound. It must have been one of the healers - Kiara or Africa! My heart goes out to them both, a silent thank you in the bloody night. Aviya's own call rings out, a call to her fellow warriors to look on as she triumphs in my imminent defeat.

With at least the minimum strength in my leg, perhaps I have a chance to make it out of this alive. At the least, I can fight BACK. 'It's not over until the fat fucking lady sings!' I lunge forward at her pretty little ass as she fails to hit my knee. Her armor protects her just as mine protects me. In this way we both have advantage and disadvantage. It's not the perfect attack, nor is it the most powerful attack that I can deliver. On the other hand, it is the most advantageous, the most likely to succeed. Teeth bared, visage distorted by pain and rage, I aim to bite her in the same place she attacked me: the back of her leg, just above the point of her hock. Maybe I can't tear the muscles out like a carnivore, but I can bruise, or maybe even lacerate if I've got any sharp teeth hanging about. Satisfied that I at least made the attempt, unknowing whether I was even slightly successful, I retreat away from her. My legs move beneath me awkwardly as I trot away to her right, hopefully just out of reach for immediate retaliation.

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Rostislav

more than a drunken fool