It hurt. The right shoulder ached and throbbed, protesting against the slightest of movement, and the scent of scorching flesh as his fiery breath connected with the hide of his enemy only brought marginal comfort. Lace was not one to relish in the pain of others, not even when the opponent was one such as Deimos; cold, silent, terrifying. He did wish that his rear hooves would have met with anything but thin air however, because now the score was back to zero, their damages equal, the effect of the burns lessened. He needed that advantage. Craved it, desired anything at all that might boost his crumbling confidence - something to chase away the numbing fear with, lest it might overcome his sense of duty and make him turn tails and run.
When the dark unicorn came at him without even breathing a sigh in complaint, he even had to ask himself if the magic had done any damage at all. Did he not feel pain, this stallion? Was he indeed numb to everything, a horrible killing machine void of both thought and feeling? The thought was horrifying, and in a state of half panic the gold-backed stallion smacked the hooves back into the earth after the kick and forced the front up in a rear half a second before the gray bulk slammed into his left side; lifting the front hooves about a foot from the ground to lessen the loss of balance.
The impact still rattled his brain, sent a spear of red-hot agony through the shoulder where blood was forced to the surface by his persistent demand that the leg should move. Warm blood came from the fleshy tear in a thin trickle down the skin, tainting the coat and causing the nostrils to flare when met with the metallic scent.
So familiar, so hated.
Forced to the right by the deadly unicorn, Lace used the fraction of a second where he was suspended in the air to unleash a kick with his left front leg, blindly hoping that it would land upon the right front knee of the reaper. A sharp shriek of pain escaped him as the impact with the ground rattled the shoulder, and with a growl from effort Lace dug the feet into the soft forest ground and forced his body to the left and smack back into the right side of the other, unwilling to allow any space between himself and the leech that was Deimos. By sticking close to his side, the blue-dipped spear would have no room for maneuver, the tip would be too far away to do any real damage. He felt it scrape over the front of the right upper leg, peeling off skin and drawing a thin scratch over the muscle - but no more.
Thankfully. Because even that small scratch added to the count and created another notch in his count down to zero tolerance.
Exerting himself to stay glued to the slightly taller stallion, his skin likely pressed against the gray hide, the Edger forced his head up and the nose to the left, snapping with yellowed ivories toward the eye of the General. At the same time the left rear leg lifted and measured a quick snap toward the others fetlock; a dull kick, lacking in power due to the awkward angle, but hopefully enough to at least distract the opponent enough for the attack on the eye to succeed.
Already sweating, from pain and effort and concentration, Lace tried to push the fear clouding his judgment to the back of the mind. Instead he began to reach outward, his mind searching for the trees that surrounded the battling giants, that restricted their movements and blocked out the sky. Focused, prepared, ready to make his move whenever an opportunity arose.
And ever the dragon circled above their heads, she too waiting for that one moment, when the fire within her chest could be allowed to unleash. Thirsty for revenge against the skull-marked ground-bound earthling, aching to help her bonded; she feared too, and still chose to fight.
That was their nature.
[OOC: Word Count: 687 Post 2/4 Magic use: 0/1 remaining, Companion use 0/1.
Lace managed to land before Deimos crashed into him, and lifted the front in a low rear to lessen the loss of balance. He aimed a kick towards Deimos's right front knee. Touched down from the rear, then immediately forced himself back to the left to side with Deimos, thus avoiding the brunt of the horn attack; taking only a scratch at the right forearm due to the length of the horn (roughly 1.5 feet according to Heather). Pressing against Deimos side, Lace aims a bite at the right eye and a kick to the right rear fetlock.
Fajira keeps circling above their heads, out of reach.]
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[JUDGE] instruments to plague us [challenge for freedom - lace]
