.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Salt air tickles the monolith's tongue as he descends upon the beach, all stormy mane and sharp, masculine angles. Battle beckons him, like the call of a lover. When he stood here a few months ago, a man newly grown, and called for a foe, none came. They were all too afraid. Today, there is no danger of that, as it is him heeding somebody else's battlecry, sating someone else's thirst for blood. He can tell little from the voice that stings his ears, save for that it comes from the jaws of a stallion. Good. He needs a fight against another man, a glorious symphony of testosterone and glory. His red dragon circles overhead, and it's through his eyes that the blackened titan sees his opponent for the first time. Small, dappled, horned, and undoubtedly older than Volterra - excitement quivers his flesh at the notion of testing his mettle against an older, more experienced stallion. He regularly practices fighting roving rogues of a similar age to himself, but there is a different sort of challenge in standing against a grizzled old warrior who has undoubtedly weathered many battles. Win or lose, he will learn a lot from fighting somebody vastly more experienced, lessons he can take through to the rest of his life. The young warlord's massive, feathered hooves crunch over sand and seawater alike as he moves at a heavy trot towards his would-be foe. Muscle bulks beneath his tight black flesh, flecked with seaspray and grains of sand. Vérzés' gaze lingers on the man's companion, a tiger, and Volterra feels his dragon's hunger as he contemplates taking down and devouring a fellow predator. The leviathan's crimson gaze rests upon the unicorn, no emotion showing on his rough, brutish features. "Volterra, and Vérzés," he introduces, his voice the gravelly rasp of rocks on concrete. "You may strike first." There's no room or time for niceties, not when their flesh will soon be slapping together in beautiful war and they will be going hell for leather to beat the shit out of one another. The young stallion stands before the older one, sea to his left and rocks to his right, and waits to be attacked. _____________ @Ciceron ! Good luck! PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, PREPARE TO BLEED |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
