The lion’s jowls parted in a silent growl as the stags appeared, lowered racks glowing in the half-moon’s pearly light. And then the maned cat crouched, tongue of fog licking its upper lip once, before ephemeral teeth bared in an angry, hungry snarl. It was starving for this.

The King’s head snapped to watched the appearance of stags, an impressively ominous display of the moon’s mists. Cobalt eyes, growing darker with the rise of night, reflected the milky bodies. A part of his soul shifted, unknowingly intertwined with the beast of his past, as it had grown together in the spar with Orithia while he had fought for life-giving oxygen.

And so, this demonic shadow, which had wizened both from Tembovu’s constant battle to silence it and this new connection, slowly spread its shadowy fingers throughout the Elephant’s mind. It silently hissed a triumph as the cold, hard eyes of the King riveted to stare at the glinting, pupil-less pits swathed in gloom.

This was no noble lead of the Edge. This was the destroyer of Dorobo, the vanguard of vengeance. The lion’s jaws parted, soundless roar shaking the magnificently misty mane.

The plains-marked stallion gave no indication that he had heard the greeting of his Seer, aside from watching the him emerge from his obscurity. At the titan’s appearance, the King rose to his full height, muscles darkly etching rigid shadows in the white light. Alune was his jovial Seer no more— in his place stood an ominous warrior of night, told by his darkly gleaming blades. Had he not spoken of life’s balance and of the Lady’s deadly power when they first met? The King should learn to pay better attention.

Hard and cold, his deep voice barks a reply to the subtly dangerous question, “Please do, my Seer.” The midnight man complied, lunging towards him with unhindered power. The earth shook beneath his charge. At his shouted warning, the crouching lion sprung, spectral claws outstretched to slash throats before disintegrating into millions of furiously glittering droplets and scattering to the night.

The Elephant watched, unflinching for long moments, the threatening promise that bore down upon him. Subtle changes overtook him. His shoulders squared, his massive horn lowered, his black-slashed sides moved in deeper breaths. Unseen, his great heart pumped harder, supplying his vast muscles with red-cell enriched blood. And his eyes— they grew black, losing their light blue flecks as a beast shivered in victory. No matter the outcome of the spar, it had won a great battle tonight; one the Elephant hadn’t yet realized he had lost.

As the indigo stallion neared, Tembovu turned on his forehand and his haunches swung to face the priest’s onslaught. But, in the murky light of the half-moon, he had misjudged the placement of his heavy hind end. A pained grunt echoed from his barrel as the longest of Alune’s blades caught the thick hide over his rump. Easily, it sliced trough the taunt skin, leaving a bleeding slash across his right gluteus, before his entire rear rose. In an detonation of massive power, both rear ivory hooves exploded towards the slashing front end of his attacking herdmate. But they were herdmates no longer, in the King’s mind; darkness had fallen and shadows reigned.

A: 1/3
WC: 551
Setting: Early evening with a half-full moon in the Thistle Meadow.
Damage Tracker: bleeding skin wound on right rump;
Summary: He swings around to double-barrel Alune in the face/front-end. Before he can kick, Alune's horn cuts the top of his right haunch. @Alune

TEMBOVU

Beware the weight of a vengeful soul.