The thunder drowns out the antlered one's bellow, just another rumble amidst a backdrop of noise. But through the scream of the storm, the dragons see.

They see a stallion, a hand or so smaller than Volterra but equal in sheer bulk and presence, sporting two massive antlers that must require phenomenal neck strength to hold aloft. They see mud and sand spurting beneath heavy hooves as the man charges, making it quite clear that he is to be the young warlord's opponent today. Through their sharp eyes, they show Volterra what his feeble horse vision can't possibly see amidst the driving rain, and they give him just enough time to swing his hips to the right to try and bring him face to face with their charging opponent. His feet skid and slalom on the sodden sand as he moves, and he tenses every firm muscle in his stout legs to ensure his balance is braced hard against the adverse terrain.

It is luck, more than anything else, that saves him from the unicorn goliath's strike - despite his attempts to keep his footing, his massive hooves slip as he turns, lurching him badly to his right. He stumbles, fighting to keep his balance, slipping and sliding and fretting as he contemplates how embarrassing it would be if he ended up on his ass so early on in the fight. He arches his neck, bulks his muscles and, with some effort, manages to stay on all four legs. He's sure he hears a draconic laugh from high above, although he can't pinpoint which of his companions is mocking him for his faux pas.

During this inelegant slip and slide, Grimalkin's antlers just whistle past the brute's left side. It's quite a relief to the black, as a full-force impact from those horns could have broken bones, ripped sinews, hewn flesh from muscle. Through the rain, illuminated by a fork of lightning, the behemoth has a split-second to drink in as much of his opponent's appearance as he possibly can. Although the stallion is a hand smaller than Volterra, his feathered feet and muscle mass speak of considerable strength - but, reasons the beast, that also means the antlered brute should suffer from the same downfalls as Volterra does. Sinking into the sand, skidding with every misplaced hoof...they are an evenly-matched duo, and the titan feels excitement flood through his bloodstream as he contemplates the battle ahead.

From the heavens, Vérzés swoops, a crimson angel, a glimmering jewel of death. His jaws gape and he aims a torrent of frost for the waterlogged ground directly in front of Grimalkin, hoping to turn the moisture on the surface of the sand to ice. He'd tried this in similar conditions against Ciceron, but the dappled stallion had just about managed to avoid it - the ruby war-dragon prays his luck will be better this time. He hopes that the unicorn won't be able to slow his canter in time, and will find that the soft sand in front of him has suddenly turned to perilous, slippy ice.

Simultaneously, Volterra swings further to his right, his hooves splashing into puddles as he attempts to face Grimalkin's left side in a T-shape. He throws his weight to his hindquarters and lifts his hefty frame into a rear, ensuring his back feet are spaced quite far apart to give him a bigger surface area and hopefully less chance of slipping over. The diamond horseshoes on his back feet lend weight to his hind hooves, acting like anchors beneath him. He aims to slam his colossal forehooves down onto Grimalkin's hindquarters as the palomino behemoth canters past him - he hopes that the downwards motion will cause the antlered man's back legs to crumple beneath him and badly unbalance him. In conjunction with his dragon's ice attack, the beast hopes this will send Grimalkin crashing to the ground, where Volterra can assert his authority over him.

Blood pounds through the stallion's body, his excitement heightened, his flesh tingling. This is what it means to be a warrior - crossing swords with a man of equal strength, brute force against brute force, whilst a storm sings in the background and the sodden sand just begs to be splattered with blood. This is what Volterra was born and bred for; battle.

Above the clashing giants, Vadir fights against the wind. Despite her ongoing battle with the elements, she never takes her eyes off Volterra, ready to dive down and lend a hand if she feels he needs it. For now she is content to watch, to study her bonded in war for the first time - to see if he is as strong as she thought he was when she chose to bond to him.

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@Grimalkin !

1/3 - 797 words