The Elephant King, given the mounting pain from the rapidly multiplying injuries he was acquiring throughout this battle, had either disregarded the growing murmur of voices in the mists or had simply not heard them at all. Either way, his attention was wholly focused on his magma elephant as it blazed through the mist in the direction Mbwene had showed him. His left side spasmed once as he waited, uncertain if he truly wanted to hear the sizzle of flesh or if he would rather hear the rushed, evasive woosh of wings. Regardless, he widened his stance, hooves far apart, as he steadied his injured left side’s weight onto his right.

One black-rimmed ear remained trained on the fiery path of his magical, blazing incarnation while the other continually swiveled and twitched towards the heavens—just in case Mwbene had been wrong and the Czarina was still in the skies. The King shifted his haunches slightly, a painful ripple undulating his thick and bleeding hide, uncertain if he should wait for confirmation of his elephant exploding or seek to launch another attack at the logically-minded Mountain.

His indecision was rewarded by the explosive hiss of steam, vague warmth billowing back to him through the burned holes in the thick mist. Wait, steam? Though he was wreathed in water vapor, there was not enough mist to provide that quantity of steam. Confusion wrinkled the skin around his eyes as their navy irises constricted to pinpoints, searching the opaque white air for the Mountain and the source of the steam.

“ALYSANNE, YOU LIE.”

Instead of seeing her, the shouted words answered his searching ears, causing them to pin against his neck just as his body stiffened and began to shift forward, towards the source of her yell. Though, for the first time, anger began to smolder beneath the cold sense of duty and warm sense of paternal protection he had nursed throughout this challenge. (When had his mere thoughts of the mare needing father morphed into that?) His anger came from the fact that she could turn her attention away from him, her opponent, when it was she who called for a battle.

A deep snort rumbled out of his nostrils, “YOU FIGHT ME, MOUNTAIN. NOT MY QUEEN.” His body rippled with an elephantine appearance as his bellowed roar swallowed the murmuring noises of others around the fighting Mountain and Elephant. Then, softer (though still loud enough to be heard across the field), “Focus, Isopia. Words are for after—” but his forward moving, limping body was cut off with a deep grunt as a rock dragon erupted from the earth and barreled into his chest. His great body abruptly halted, spasms of pain spreading through pectoral muscles as the first layer of skin peeled away in some areas. Though it wasn’t the missing hide that hurt the the King—no, it was the contused muscle and many, broken vessels that would happily turn a myriad of vibrant shades in the next few days.

His great skull dropped, seeking to relieve some of the tension on his chest, navy eyes blinking hard once before they searched the mists for the mare of many earthen magics. Thinking he saw her shadow in the fog before him, he swung his haunches to his right in an effort to keep his injured left side away from any more of her magical (or physical onslaughts). Then, with a pained grunt (because his body ached beneath the onslaught of injuries and protested against still fighting), he stiffly ducked his right shoulder, tucked his chin to his throbbing chest, and used mostly his right haunch to propel his massive horn in the general direction of where he thought he saw the Mountain’s shadow.

It was a physical attack, rather than a magical one, because (despite the magic that now laced his veins) beneath the weighty pain of his wounds, his old training sought physical combat instead of magical attacks. Perhaps not the wisest of choices, but when one is in discomfort, they rely on what they know.

Mbwene whimpered softly at the pain the roiled through their bond, trunk twisting into her chest as she felt her bonded’s wounds.



WC: 702
A: 3/4
Damage tracker: Gnarly, deep left shoulder wounds, yo; ripped flesh on left flank; Bruised chest.
Summary: He starts towards Iso, gets hit in the chest by her rock-dragon, then uses his right side/horn to attack her.

Tembovu

the elephant king