With the rise of the sun had also come the return of magic, and for that, Crowley could not have been more thankful. Perhaps it was the simple glee he felt for the fact alone, or maybe the darkness had simply driven him mad, but whatever it had been... Crowley could not stop himself to putting his weaving abilities to rather impractical use.

Atop his head, fitted securely around both his ears and his horns, was a flat-topped, violet hat that was wrapped with a horrendously gawdy leopard print. To top the article off was a bright red feather which stuck out from the left side, curling towards the back. Fitted around his neck and stopping near the middle of his back was a garment of the same violet hue as the hat, and at his chest it plummeted in a v-shape before coming back together. Unfortunately, the same awful, fuzzy leopard print lined this v-neck. And, of course, one could not miss the shining dollar sign hanging and clanking about his neck.

Poor Talbot hadn't wanted to participate in this strange... whatever it was, but the growing pup hadn't been given a say in the matter. Covering him was what looked to be the traditional barding that a jousting horse might wear, though of course scaled down to an appropriate size for Talbot. Running over his forehead, behind his ears, to his mouth and under his jaw, a cloth imitation of a bridle sat. Lastly, a sad excuse of a stuffed, human rider was perched on the hound's back, and the mere sight of it had Crowley in hysterics. Both of them looked downright hilarious, but the Weaver gave zero shits.

Just as the brindle began to calm himself from a bout of laughter, he was able to catch the sound of bells behind him, a certainly unusual sound to hear anywhere in Helovia. However, thanks to his distraction, Crowley hadn't caught on to Illynx's approach until she was already well into a gallop. 'What on earth...?' Was the first thing that came to mind; she was a Lady of the Basin, so had no reason to be challenging him, and he could only put it up to the random choice of a spar.

The Gilded came at his left side, swinging her horn with precision from one side to the other. It was successful not only in ripping the precious purple top, but creating a narrow X shape on his shoulder. He sucked in a deep, hissing breath as the sudden pain snaked through him and caused him to push with his hind legs against the ground, an instinct to get away kicking in. It was a good thing he had, for Illynx had kicked out at him in passing, her hooves managing to graze his barrel with a slight thud that stole his breath away for but a moment. Come morning, he wouldn't be surprised if the area was discolored in a bruise.

As he moved himself away and closer to the creek, his nose tipped towards the Lady and never allowing her out of his sight, Crowley couldn't stifle the laughter that built up in his throat as he recalled the words she'd spoken during her attack. "Just try to keep your blood off of it," he spoke up in response, his tone edged with a challenge, "I'm rather fond of it myself!" At that, the Weaver propelled himself forward at the bell clad mare, his neck arching and head dropping in order to put his horns in a vertical position to his nose. His intent was to ram right into Illynx's right side if it was still presented to him, and if not, then anything else that was within reach. Should she decide to wheel about and kick for him, then Crowley was thankful that it was not snow they were fighting upon and instead grass, which would aid him in a more quick and easy stop.

Talbot, as ridiculous as he felt, feared that by doing nothing, he would only be punished with more of these silly outfits. So, deciding to suffer through this, the hound moved into a sprint after Illynx had kicked out at his master, positioning himself behind and to the left of her. When the Weaver initiated his own attack, a ram from what he could tell, the hound moved in for the mare's left side, hoping she would be far too distracted by Crowley to pay him any attention. Once close enough, the hound stretched his neck out and snapped for her left front cannon, however, he kept in mind that this was a fellow herd mate and not some conniving hornless come to reign terror from above. This was merely a spar.

"Talk talk talk"

Crowley | Trakhener | 0 VP
Strength: 5
Speed: 5
Agility: 6
Endurance: 4
Offense Item: 0
Defense Item: 0
Amulet: 1
Magic: 0.5
Companion: 1
HP: 22.5 x 2 = 45

Defense: 7.5
Attack: 4.5
Damage: 5.5

[ 1/3 ;; 799 words. Basically, Crowley is a pimp and Talbot is a horse. ;D ]