HEROES MAY DIE

His kick had landed, quite gingerly, upon the mare's shoulder. It was no surprise, the absence of a full on kick beneath his hooves, instead a clipping that would leave little but a lingering cut on her hide.

Within a second of her veering off, Destrier was back on solid ground, standing on all fours, and giving a harsh snort as he watched her retreating form. At that moment, a single thought ran through his mind. There was more at stake here than a position as Captain; even if he did not gain that title, he wanted to leave this tournament feeling accomplished, like he had given it his all and proved what a capable warrior he truly was. The Friesian could tell all the stories he wanted of his old days in Vallhea, or even Gassul, but none of his new family had actually been there to witness any of those great battles. He needed to prove himself right here and now, on this very day, to show them that he was a proper fit amongst their warrior ranks.

It was time to get serious.

Another moment, and suddenly, a thick smoke had consumed the entirety of their battleground. Unable to keep from it, a single breath brought the Friesian a great discomfort within his lungs, and it was only natural that he was brought to a fit of coughing. It stung his eyes, instinctually causing them to pull shut against the burning sensation that they felt. His barrel quaked as another harsh cough was given, head dropped from the action. Not a moment later did he feel the sudden, harsh clash of hooves upon him; one hit upon his shoulder, and another at the topmost part of his barrel, just short of his back.

Despite his coughing and burning sockets, Destrier wheeled about and orchestrated a kick at the grullo, hoping either to hit a leg or the tender underside of her barrel. It would have been a wonderful display to send her to the ground, but alas, he wouldn't put it past the able mare to keep her poise and take yet another clipping before turning to run off. His actions brought forth a strain to his shoulder, for although there was no visible evidence upon either it or his barrel, they would surely bruise, for they ached and cried as it became painfully obvious that this fight wasn't over yet.

Because of his actions, the snap for his topline was in vain, for he had put himself into a position where it would have been impossible for it to hit anyway. After all, his head had been dropped from the coughing, trying to expell the smoke that had been drawn into his lungs. His moved positioning had also put a hinder on her buck, however, it was successful in nicking his flank, resulting in a jolt forward from the Friesian. He was quick to calm, however, and focused back on the matter at hand.

She reminded him somewhat of a pesky fly. Coming in for the attack, doing her damage, and then running away, only to come back with stealth and get him again. As the smoke disipated, he could see that, unsurprisingly, she stood several strides away from him, waiting for his next move. The warrior did not wish to bring serious harm upon his herdmate, and would do his best to keep from doing so, but they did have several healers within the herd... did they not?

With that thought, his next move was quickly decided upon. Drawing in a deep breath, Destrier faced the mare fully, and began to work with the magic deep within himself. The very air was beginning to grow hotter and hotter, searing, threatening to burn should the grullo decide to take a breath. She would, of course, for she had to, and she kenw not of his magic. When she did draw oxygen, it would feel as though she were choking on the super-heated air, but she would likely remain conscious.

From the moment he had begun this rapid heating of the air, Destrier had moved into a quick gallop to close the distance between himself and Smoke, taking up the opportunity of her misfortune to get in his own attack. Slowing his bulk to a stop at the mare's left side, Destrier rose yet again upon his hind legs, lashing out with forceful lashes at Smoke's withers and back. His forelegs were relentless as pistons drew them about, but eventually, the Friesian dropped back to all fours and, with a quick buck at her, moved away to mimic her choice of style.

He was ready to go all out now; was she ready to do the same?

Word Count: 796
3/4 attack, 1/2 magic

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE