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10-18-2012, 09:53 PM
It is a Man's own Mind not his enemy, nor his foe, that lures him to evil ways A grunt escaped from the crevice of his fusain lips as the hard sheath of his adversary's hooves collided injuriously with the bridge of his nose. Skin tore, nerves screamed, and thick, cerise beads bubbled up to the surface. The pupiless disks of his eyes widened, and he snorted violently once he became parallel with the earth once again, shaking his head as if the act would rid the unpleasant sensation. His legs never stopped rising and falling, conveying his sturdy frame forward a few stride, pounding the sodden mud as fury welled within his chest. Blood collected in the recesses of the behemeth's mouth, tainting his palate with a coppery taste that clung to his tongue like algae. He did not reject it. There was something about it that behaved as a sort of fuel for his vehemence, throttling his incursion and lust for combat. The stallion's malice tumesced, and the man stained with tones of ebony quickly sought to return the assault with a more abrasive cannonade. The other male evaded the threshold of the hellion's vision, moving to his blind side where he could not see him; but he could hear him there, his hooves skidding across the filth of the swamp, his wings pothering inadvertently as he struggled to sustain his balance. He pivoted so that the power occulted within his thick aft legs was directed ambiguously toward the Imp, and his hooves lashed outward impellently. He only hoped that it would connect, that his opponent would feel a similar surge of painfulness bludgeon his nerves much like the sensation which caused his own maw to throb. Ambrosius could only hope that it would induce a flame of enmity to ignite within his heart so that Eligor might recoil with congruous intensity. They might as well make this interesting. He moved to face him then, muscles rolling beneath blemished, ebony hide in an almost mellifluous symphony. Quite unexpectedly, his hooves lost purchase, causing him to stumble slightly; head bowed in an attempt to regain his poise, legs half-way folded as his weight lurched dangerously forward, haunches bunching beneath him. He managed to thrust himself upward, nearly skidding once again, and focalized his attention on the stallion he was almost certain was already headed toward him with another carnal bombardment. _______________________________________________________________________ [ 2/3 — 383 word count — Sorry if this is horrible... I didn't even bother to proof read it, yet. D: So, I'm sorry if there are any errors with grammar or flow. I'll probably fix it sometime later. I just wanted to get this up. ^^ ] [ Summary: Eligor succeeds in striking his face, breaking skin. Ambrosius reacts by shaking his head and grunting in pain as Eligor slips, and soon after kicks out toward him. He trots forward to face Eligor, but loses his footing and falls forward, sliding across the muck. He eventually recovers and turns to face Eligor once again. ] unless they kill in large numbers
and to the sound of trumpets
AMBROSIUS
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table by phantom
