He would have laughed if he hadn't been so busy staying conscious. A grim laugh, full of dismay and disappointment, and perhaps a bit embarrassment too. It had been a long time since the fire failed him so utterly and completely. He had thought that the times of implosion and self-destruction were over, that he had finally mastered the fickle, dangerous element. Was it because of the pain, his slipping consciousness? Lace would have to practice more, but it had to wait until he wasn't being attacked.
He was lucky enough that the flames hadn't reached his own silvery hide. Now he only had the thick-headed unicorn to worry about. The idiot was charging at him with all the creativity of a yearling drunk on testosterone. Lace confessed himself disappointed as he steeled himself, hooves scraping over snow and ice to find traction; he'd been expecting something a bit more refined, worthy of a soldier with as much experience as Mauja ought to have. Instead he was rushing foolishly towards Lace's left flank, slightly from behind, as if expecting him to just stand there and take the punishment.
Who would? Unfortunately for Mauja, the grullo didn't exactly swing that way. He'd have to find release from his urges elsewhere.
Gritting teeth against the pain in his barrel the grullo waited until the very last moment and made a swift, agile leap forward. The slick, snow-covered ground didn't offer good footing however and at the last moment he felt his rear hooves slip away. The horn missed his flesh and Lace flicked his tail towards Mauja's eyes, hoping to blind him with the silky hairs. But instead of passing straight by like he had planned, Lace felt how some part of the unicorn shoved into his ass with and sent him staggering away, cursing wildly as he strained to regain balance, poise, some dignity...
Winter was never a good time to fight and this was exactly why. The ground was slippery, the air bit into open wounds, the snow showcased the evidence of injuries like crimson trophies and elegance was nowhere to be found.
A pained grunt slipped from inky lips as his pirouette ended against the sturdy trunk of a black-barked tree. Flicking his head to get the pearly forelock out of his eyes Lace glared in disgust at his opponent, wasting no time in digging deep into the earth with his mind. The trees were stiff and unwieldy at this time of year, the response was not as immediate as he would have preferred. But soon enough the ground rumbled and cracked, burst open as Lace guided entwined roots up beneath Mauja in a sharp, drill-like point. Not as pretty as the ice, perhaps, but just as deadly.
Let's return the favor, shall we? See how he managed to avoid attacks from below, as he was so fond of dishing it out on others.
"This is for Torasin!" he snarled breathlessly, a vicious gleam in the golden eyes as he took this one, glorious change to avenge his fallen brother
Nyx was forgotten. He just hoped that she was wise enough to keep out of the way, so she wouldn't get hurt.
Elsewhere, a white dragon was watching, waiting, observing the feathered ghosts as she zig-sagged through barren branches. She was content with keeping them busy for now, ready for any attack to be unleashed. Let them throw what they had at her gleaming scales; it was much beneath her to waste energy when clearly she was the stronger of the three.
She didn't hunt owl. They tasted funny.
WC: 600
PC: 2/4
Summary:
The fire orb imploded just before it reached the ground, dealing no damage. When Mauja charged Lace made a jump forward, avoiding the horn. Lace flicked his tail, hoping to obscure Mauja's vision. Mauja bumped into his butt and sent Lace staggering forward. Stopping against a tree, Lace uses his wood magic to drive a spear-shaped tip of roots up beneath Mauja, hoping to pierce his belly.
Fajira hangs back, waiting for the owls to attack again.
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[LACE CHALLENGE] the Queen of Peace
