This idiot of a man reminded me of the brash cur our family stamped into submission during the Invasion of the Foothills. Tharos, had been just as cocky and half-witted as the patchwork that stood before me. Sadly, I didn’t favor either of those traits. Already the fool had made a trilogy of mistakes, one—he had totally ignored me, two he made attempt to avoid me by pushing past to get at Africa, and three, 'perhaps the most serious of said transgressions'--he didn’t listen to my warning. Three strikes and you’re out. My ebony lips curled up to reveal a clean row of shinning teeth, patience snapped like the branch of a ashen tree that had long since died.

It had been my intention to avoid a fight; and had the lad given voice to his desires then perhaps our Gypsy fool might have seen needs met. I was considered to be a reasonable sort of fellow, but he completely brushed this option aside as if he wasn’t a seasoned stallion but a headstrong yearling. It was obvious that this coal cur bested me in years, but for what age lacked I would make up for with everything that had been thus far experienced. My title hadn’t been earned absent reason behind it. They didn’t call me ‘General’ for nothing. As this situation stood, the time for words had passed, bid farewell by most pleasant company.

My collar hummed for battle, its core sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. Steel rapidly slide over loin, lashing blades upon pale feathers and horns upon my brow in a matter of seconds. While it was fashioning, my body doesn’t remain idle, and no further talk was offered. Hindquarters bunched up to absorb the weight of my flesh as I pushed upward into a standing rear. Golden daggers curved toward the right side of the heftier unicorn—my hopes were that they might strike down on his withers or spine as he tries to slice past me toward Africa; who had been standing on my left. At the same time my neck slithers out, pulling muzzle away from throat and extending it take aim at the top portion of charcoal mane or perhaps his fleshy neck with intent on pulling the brutes attention away from a lady we both seemed keen on. Colorless feathers remain tightly pulled against my sides, the blade like lashings at ready to slice and dice if need came.

A mile away, a slumbering bird peeked one eye open. Its pits the color of the sky, and deeper than that of the ocean. Fina heard my desire and felt the weight of armor through our bond. She rose from the trees, beak wide with a screech of anger igniting past flaming breast. Her fiery feathers extended, filling with air, and a few beats later she was flying as if ablaze like a falling star. She would arrive upon this battleground to either find me in need of aid, or my opponent crushed beneath heel prematurely.

Challenge:: Midas challenges Crash’s claim on Africa’s feathers and perhaps her life. He moves to force Crash into a full retreat. Standard challenge rules, 4 posts each + closing defense. Opening post in different thread:: http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=65...6#pid44886

Setting:: Fought upon the Heavenly Fields, misty day with light fog lingering upon the ground. Blue sunshine sky with sparse clouds. Early afternoon.

Word count:: 515

Magic/ Companion uses:: (0/2)

Buffs:: Endure + Swift

Summary:: Don’s armor. Rears up and strikes forelimbs out against Crash, hopes that hooves hit either Crash’s spine or withers. Tries to also bite at Crash’s neck or mane as well.