ike war drums; that was the only way to describe the brilliant beat echoing from their bloody battle scene. Incisors clinging to the gangly flesh of the traitor, Pippigrin's eyes widened and nostrils flared as the beating of both their hooves became the atmosphere - it was as if they galloped upon the sound itself. For such a small, half-sized creature, each threatening clack against the rocks and sand below was one more threatening growl, one more fearsome bark of foreshadowing; just one foot wrong and any kind of victory, whether it be as basic as being able to walk away without a further scratch, would all be swallowed whole.
So it was with calculation that the hobbit flayed his wings once more against the flesh of his attacker, not minding one ounce if they became dressed in the bloody mess from the stallion’s flank. Flaring his wings outwards in an attempt to halt himself, allowing the bay brute to pass him by, Pippin was caught off-guard by the splitting pain in his loins. The injury sustained at the very beginning of the fight was one he would not recover from without the Sun Physician’s interference, this much he knew, though, he was also unsure if continuing the fight was even an option given the possibilities of a fracture or worse. The blood had begun to cake and dry, leaving smears of orange sand and gore upon his rump; a most gruesome wound indeed. Mind soon drifting to the peculiar amulet he had strung upon his horns, Pippigrin shook it down the length of his horn and plucked it out of place, clasping the strange jewel between his teeth. How does this work again?
It appeared he didn't need an instruction manual because without a second to pass the amulet began to leak a vibrant fluid and fill the hobbit’s wounds.

It was as he stood in contemplation over the wound, fearful and furious over its devastating impact on his body, yet another punch was thrown his way. The stag having pivoted in front of him came roaring over, hooves pinned straight and aiming for his shoulder.
A gasp was all that left Pippigrin’s maw at first, his legs attempting to shuffle through the pain of his rump, though it was, for the most part, in vain.
“AAH!”
The plate-sized hooves of the bay beast crashed down upon the hobbit with so much force that Pippin’s own hooves buckled under their weight. For but a moment the halfling fell, the force and weight too much for his shaken and beaten body to bare, a loud and abrupt cry escaping his maw.

Aside from the panic and turmoil, the blood and the ineffable amounts of pain, Pippigrin could only think of one thing;
‘I thought you were my friend…’

The hobbit, so little and small, was just about ready to give up. His legs were failing, his wings and fleeting heart too, and while it had only been a small number of seconds that he lay battered in the dust, time had stood almost completely still for him.

Though still... the blood of a warrior coursed through him, through each of his little veins.
A warrior's spirit was the kind that could never be dampened.

A hoof plucked out from under his heaving chest and gathered grasp upon the ground, followed by another, then another. He would finish this fight, he would not back down.
Launching himself upwards back onto his feet, Pippigrin grunted against the indescribable pain he now felt from both his hind end and his shoulder, though, with the adrenaline taking over, the spirit of all guardians and warriors before him filling his blood stream, the pain only dulled. The Guardian felt as though he was stronger, healed in some respects, albeit held together by the thinnest of strings. It was enough though - it was all he would need to see this fight through to the end.

“I thought you were my friend” The hobbit croaked a final time, pale eyes lifting to those of his betrayer. The strength that had built within him, a charging force of adrenaline and spirit, now waned; he had such a limited window it seemed before he would become a crumpled heap of limbs in the sand. Without anything else to say to the man, Pippigrin bowed his crown and gathered his strength. Wings flaring for support and balance,  rallying the wind to his side and plunging right through the enduring pain, the hobbit began to charge.
With his crown aimed directly at Reichenbach’s chest, he gave one final scream of urgency and demand as he attempted to throw his two horns into the man who had attacked him in the hopes he would surely regret ever doing it.

Attack; 3/3
Words; 799
Summary; PIPPIGRIN USES HIS KAOS AMULET! then gets smacked down by reich, then jumps up and runs after him screaming haha and attmepts to ram him in the chest!
Damage;
6;  a nasty, muscle deep wound to his nearside hind, high up on his rump. restricting his movement and bleeding lots.
1; skin graze + big bruise to his neck
5; a huge bone-deep bruise to his shoulder
27 HP, but USES KAOS AMULET so 31 hp 

WELL DONE LINDSAY! <3 now u just need to do your closing defence and it's judging time!