|
Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts
A shadow broke the sun-warming Tharos's back and he knew the pegasus that he had seen before was attacking him. As Tharos reared, the pegasus was there, legs flailing as he soared past. In an attempt to protect his head, the grullo draft ducked his head between his front legs and let the gold-tinted feather-brain rain blows against his muscular withers. When the attacks were made more damaging as the pegasus battered him with his armored wings and Tharos felt his hide begin to bleed as the blades cut into his skin. Still, he had more pressing matters to deal with that an overgrown bird battering against his sides. Apollo was making a charge with a horn that could gore him if Tharos didn't move.
Dropping to all fours, Tharos made to jump to the side, thanking his lucky stars he wasn't full-blooded draft and could count on the Arabian in his bloodline to lend him agility that any pure blooded draft, like Archibald, would not have. He managed to leap clear of the charge and wheeled about to make a charge of his own, aiming straight for APOLLO's horn. He snapped his teeth at the crystalline object, hoping to grip it like a bit across the gums at the corners of his mouth and if he was successful, he would jerk his head in a tilt to the right, snapping the sharp object in half like a twig. At the same time, he anchored his front legs to the ground and kicked out again, hoping to ward off any attacks from behind that the pegasus might try in an attempt to help APOLLO. All the while, the small cuts on his sides, that Tharos had written off unimportant at the time, were bleeding. They stained the dark grey with an even darker color and on his withers, purple bruises were forming, seen only by the bar of white that formed the splash across his withers and allowed him to be called a minimal tobiano.
Tharos was fighting with his life but he could feel himself beginning to weaken as his muscles screamed at him in protest of the pain he was putting them through by moving so much. Still, he refused to acknowledge that he was at a disadvantage. He may not have wings, or a horn to fight with, but by the gods, Tharos was going to make these two regret they had come here, even if he had to work himself into an early grave to do it. They would respect him when he was gone, if he had anything to say about it. Besides, he still had strength to give and it would take a lot more than a few bleeding cuts and some bruises to keep him down.
When Tharos landed, either with a piece of Apollo's horn or not, Tharos would turn around and spit at Apollo's feet, his sides heaving slightly as he caught his breath back and his silver-blue eyes, as unnerving as the eyes of his father (although in a much different shade), burned with a fierceness that was rarely found in equines. "What's yer name? I like ter remember my past opponents. An' you two definitely deserve my respect if'n you can do this ter me." He said, jerking his nose towards his ravaged sides. "Either that, er I'm jus' plum outta shape. I wouldn' doubt that though. Been a while since I've had a good tussle, y'see." Tharos said, pausing to talk as he held up a hoof as a way to signal a time-out. In all honesty, the grullo stud was trying to make it known that the three of them could be rivals, maybe good friends someday had they not met on the opposite side of a war. Even in battle, Tharos was still a good mannered stud and the owner of a heart of gold that his dam had taught him to have when he was young.
After a few huffs from the grullo, in which he waited for the two to reply to his questions and compliments, he lowered his hoof to the ground to signal time-in. At that moment, he half-reared onto his hooves and propelled himself into a full-body tackle. He was attempting to place his forehooves on the back of the unicorn and propel himself up still more into a much higher jump, using APOLLO as a stepping stool. All this was used as an attempt to snatch MIDAS out of midair where Tharos would slam the pegasus to the ground underneath him as Tharos would attempt to land on his hooves, optimally breaking a few of his opponents bones or at least driving the breath from his lungs. Should Tharos miss altogether, which was completely likely as sailing through the air was not his stronghold, Tharos would brace himself for a hard landing and rear back to land on his hind legs and then let his forelegs roll to the ground in a few cantering strides. He had seen some Pegasus's do this before when they landed and while he had no wings to control his fall, he still executed it to the best of his ability... regardless of how much poise he lacked while doing it.
876
Chaos Invasion
Defenses: Lowered his head to avoid injury to his cranium, but allowed Midas to strike at his withers and sides. Jumped to the side to avoid Apollo's charge altogether.
Attacks: Made to grab Apollo by the horn with his teeth and snap the end clean off. Then, using Apollo's back as a stepping stool, Tharos jumped high into the air to grab Midas and drag the pegasus to the ground by his weight. This was an attempt to ground-slam the airborn stallion and either a, drive the breath from his lungs, or b, break a wing or two. If he misses, he braces himself for a landing and makes to hit the ground running.
Injuries: Bruised withers and small cuts on his sides from Midas's hooves and armored wings.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
Invasion Round Two :: Cluster Three
