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09-28-2016, 02:12 AM
Set a fire deep in my soul; One I can't contain, one I won't control.
The Sergeant’s appearance in the clearing is lackluster. He does not burst out of the trunks, rallying to his King’s call. He appears slowly, unenthusiastically, from the trees. For a moment, some forlorn thread of nostalgia for the previous warm camaraderie he and the Wallander had shared wraps around his chest—though it is quickly snipped by the wry smile that crosses his dark, hairy muzzle. The King’s lips, stretched around the circumference of the glass spear, attempt to return his grin with a small (if somber) smile.
And, despite the near reluctance (or was it dread?) that the soldier seems to view the glittering glass spear at his pale hooves with, Rohan’s pursed lips part to pick up the weapon. And the King is surprised by the relief that clashes with his initial, cold readying for battle. Part of him (a part he hadn’t realized) had been worried that the finely antlered man was gone; that he had abandoned his post and the Edge for whatever demons that haunted him at the last meeting.
But this, clearly, is not the case, as his smaller, but stocky, body circles around the King’s massive form. Tembovu’s own mouth adjusts to the strange shape and weight of the spear. He swallows—there was so much saliva produced in the mouth! It would make for tricky, slippery handling if he did not pay attention to it. Luckily, though, Anzanie is thorough in her knowledge of crafting glass: the spear is well-balanced and razor-sharp. Just unwieldy in the King’s mouth due to its newness (for now).
His heavily horned head follows the muscular man’s circling body. Either the unfamiliarity of the weapon or his absence from the battlefield apparently have made the Sergeant slow, however, for his steps toward the King do not imply attack. They are deliberately placed, and the Elephant watches him closely, chin tucking and head dropping slightly as the soldiers come into close quarters.
He takes a half-step backwards, a hind hoof sliding in the thickly pine-needled floor (those would be slick for maneuvering, he notes). And it is this movement that allows his head to move just out of the blinding, glinting light of Rohan’s carefully placed spear. Tembovu grunts in approval of such an attack; using the spear’s reflective properties is resourceful. There are few other weapons that will reflect light as well as the Edge’s glass.
But, alas, the best laid plains oft go awry, and Tembovu’s movement breaks him free of any blinding glare. With a backward shuffle (partly slipping on pine needles and hitting a tree trunk with his haunches) and a forceful lunge to the left with his shoulders, the King just barely escapes the Sergeant’s murderously sharp tines. His black-rimmed ears pin back as they hear the branching antlers whistle through the air past them.
Though the King does not pause in his motion. Using the tree trunk his haunches hit against in his backwards shuffle for support, he halts his left-ward momentum. A cream and ivory left foreleg trembles once, straining against the massive forces—though the King trusts his body (if not his heart and mind). His neck drops and sweeps powerfully to the right, bringing the sharp and glinting right spearhead towards Rohan’s body. He aims for the chest, hoping to carve a shallow flesh wound; but, admittedly, his control of the weapon is not quite skilled.
A: 1/3
WC: 573
Damage tracker: ---
Summary: Tembovu moves backwards into a tree trunk and ducks left to miss Rohan's attack. He then (using the tree trunk to help stop his left-ward momentum) sweeps his neck/head to the right, seeking to cut Rohan's neck/chest area with the spearhead.
And, despite the near reluctance (or was it dread?) that the soldier seems to view the glittering glass spear at his pale hooves with, Rohan’s pursed lips part to pick up the weapon. And the King is surprised by the relief that clashes with his initial, cold readying for battle. Part of him (a part he hadn’t realized) had been worried that the finely antlered man was gone; that he had abandoned his post and the Edge for whatever demons that haunted him at the last meeting.
But this, clearly, is not the case, as his smaller, but stocky, body circles around the King’s massive form. Tembovu’s own mouth adjusts to the strange shape and weight of the spear. He swallows—there was so much saliva produced in the mouth! It would make for tricky, slippery handling if he did not pay attention to it. Luckily, though, Anzanie is thorough in her knowledge of crafting glass: the spear is well-balanced and razor-sharp. Just unwieldy in the King’s mouth due to its newness (for now).
His heavily horned head follows the muscular man’s circling body. Either the unfamiliarity of the weapon or his absence from the battlefield apparently have made the Sergeant slow, however, for his steps toward the King do not imply attack. They are deliberately placed, and the Elephant watches him closely, chin tucking and head dropping slightly as the soldiers come into close quarters.
He takes a half-step backwards, a hind hoof sliding in the thickly pine-needled floor (those would be slick for maneuvering, he notes). And it is this movement that allows his head to move just out of the blinding, glinting light of Rohan’s carefully placed spear. Tembovu grunts in approval of such an attack; using the spear’s reflective properties is resourceful. There are few other weapons that will reflect light as well as the Edge’s glass.
But, alas, the best laid plains oft go awry, and Tembovu’s movement breaks him free of any blinding glare. With a backward shuffle (partly slipping on pine needles and hitting a tree trunk with his haunches) and a forceful lunge to the left with his shoulders, the King just barely escapes the Sergeant’s murderously sharp tines. His black-rimmed ears pin back as they hear the branching antlers whistle through the air past them.
Though the King does not pause in his motion. Using the tree trunk his haunches hit against in his backwards shuffle for support, he halts his left-ward momentum. A cream and ivory left foreleg trembles once, straining against the massive forces—though the King trusts his body (if not his heart and mind). His neck drops and sweeps powerfully to the right, bringing the sharp and glinting right spearhead towards Rohan’s body. He aims for the chest, hoping to carve a shallow flesh wound; but, admittedly, his control of the weapon is not quite skilled.
A: 1/3
WC: 573
Damage tracker: ---
Summary: Tembovu moves backwards into a tree trunk and ducks left to miss Rohan's attack. He then (using the tree trunk to help stop his left-ward momentum) sweeps his neck/head to the right, seeking to cut Rohan's neck/chest area with the spearhead.
@Rohan
Please tag Tembovu.
