Einarr coiled himself, preparing for the stallion to strike, but instead his  words washed over Einarr's ears. While Voodoo's eyes were clear of emotion, Einarr could almost feel the fear trembling behind his words. The warden was thankful, then, for his rank magic and the blessings of the Sun God. The satisfaction he felt for causing such a response from his opponent rippled over his breast like a lingering kiss from his lover, but the superiority showed not on his face. Einarr was perpetually painted in a cold, icy demeanor, yet with blazing eyes like hellfire and brimstone when locked in the throws of battle. There was no room for pity within him as Einarr prepared for what was to happen. "Einarr retrieve key because Voodoo abandon Dragon's Throat." The stallion's voice was hard and gruff, and the words had barely escaped his lips before the little fox was lunging for him.

Without blinking, Einarr snapped his wings in tight against his sides and lurched forward. The strong winds buffeted against his hardened body, but the stallion still did not falter. The ground beneath his hooves grasped at him, trying to slow him down with the watered-down sands, but the stallion was a product of the desert. Even moist sand was easy for him to maneuver, to hold his own against an opponent. He would not succumb to defeat from the terrain, but instead would be a victor over its tricks. Cloven hooves dug wells into the moist sands as he burst forward, but the fox's teeth still managed to scrape across the front of Einarr's right foreleg, scraping hair from skin just over his cannon. With a swelling fury only brought on by battle and no personal ire towards this stallion, Einarr stomped down harshly in an attempt to knock the silly companion away from attacking again. Rolling his shoulders forward, Einarr adjusted some to the right as he continued his charge. The massive bloodrider attempted to slam his armor-clad left shoulder into Voodoo' own left shoulder, hoping to make the thinner stallion lose his balance. With the sun raging overhead, the sparkle of the Dragon's Throat key was easy to detect. Quickly, the blackened stallion opened his jaws and shot his head forward. His blunt teeth aimed to snap onto the key so he could forcefully remove it from the bloodied stallion's grasp. While his intention was to grasp the key, Einarr would feel no remorse for landing a bite on the stallion. This was a war between them (should the stallion fight back, that is) and in war there were casualties that were unintended.

His right leg throbbed dully, but the small jolts of pain running up the length of the extremity each time his cloven hoof touched the ground were nothing compared to the true damage that could be done to that bone. He had seen warriors break legs on the battlefield, and even in friendly spars, with one misplaced step or reaction to their opponent. Thankfully the small bite would not hinder Einarr too much in this battle, but it would surely be a reminder of the little canine's teeth and tenacity. If the black stallion were not so focused on the task at hoof, he might linger on the hilarity of what had happened. The small fox could be so easily decimated by Einarr's prowess, and still it lunged forth to strike him. The companion was like the women of the Dragon's Throat herd--small, but ferocious.  


[PC: 2/4 | WC: 758 | Challenge for Voodoo's DRAGON'S THROAT KEY. | Setting: Halcyon Flats, midday. Sunny, bright, warm. Very windy.]