Ulrik ground his teeth, the sound squeaky oddly from underneath his muscular jaws. He chose not to further ridicule the stallion for his lack of knowledge about the unicorn's thick history here. Even with this challenge and slight to his temporary rule, the engineer had no qualms with Torleik. He did not fault the demon-horned male for believing in his own heart and choosing to take action - in fact that was far better than sitting idly by and groaning life away. Torleik was doing exactly what Ulrik had done; he was expressing discontent and taking action to fix it the way he wanted to see it fixed.
Nothing wrong with that.
The stallion snorted. "A herd does not operate without each member contributing to the greater good," he growled in response. "If you want a different job, just ask, otherwise, your blood is worth just as much as anyone else. Deimos is the general, the leader of the warriors. He demands just as much of you as he does himself, so I would give that little bite of information a chew..." he trailed, grunting. Ulrik would fight this stallion, for to let him go back on his word now would only insult his brethren. The stallion rose his metal creation from its grave and Ulrik watched curiously as he pleaded to his companion.
Kirchoff's eyes danced between Torleik and Ulrik, snorting slightly. The adolescent was still to young to fully understand words, but the tone was meaningful. "I think you have an admirer," he heard his stupid, beastly horse say in his head. Kirchoff liked the stallion well enough, but Ulrik was mentally handicapped. Did the one with the strange horns not know this? He had to help get Ulrik out of his own disasters; the pathetic brute would probably die of idiocy. Unfortunately, Kirchoff did not know the words to relay this message. Instead, he laid down in the snow, watching, warning.
"What, you're not going to help me?" Ulrik asked, amused. The emotion he received back told him that Kirchoff would only help when needed, but Ulrik did not mind. Better that the kid not get injured before he had a chance to grow. Thus, Ulrik picked the battle - kicked it off with a wild slash of his own horn. Kirchoff could not stand still. He circled, but kept his promise to himself; he would not attack unless he was needed.
A jarring in his skull was his response to his attack as the tip of the longest weapon caught onto the stallion's shoulder, even despite his attempts to wheel away. The smell of blood hit Ulrik's nostrils sharply, and he wrinkled them in response, not sure about the pungent odor. A small flicker of triumph rocked his mind, but that brief moment of pride was very, very short lived.
Torleik was much faster than Ulrik had originally given the stallion credit for, and their proximity only amplified his abilities. The black and bronze stallion was caught, trapped as his body was was already throw into a half-rear, trying to catch Torleik's back with his teeth. Ulrik felt two horns scrape the underside of his belly, leaving two thick, bleeding gashes on his stomach, but that was not all the misfortune he would face. Gravity and pain decided together that balancing on his hind legs was no longer an option, so he collapsed onto Torleik's horns and rolled off, cloven hooves slipping on the snow.
The Engineer staggered to gain his footing, tensing his gut tightly in response to the pain, not eager to let the abdominal muscles go lest his entire midsection tumble out of his back skin in a heap of blood and guts. Ulrik an engineer, not a doctor dammit! While Ulrik's cloven hooves found purchase on rock beneath the snow, the machine moved in, the motion strange and hypnotic as coordinated metal ran at Torleik. A whirring, crashing noise followed in its wake, and the machine, controlled by its maker, opened its jaws and attempted to crash into Torleik's hind, left leg. The trajectory was at an angle, leaving room to crash into the forelegs as well if given the opportunity.
Hopefully that bought him enough time. Ulrik threw himself back in the battle, reluctant to breathe too deeply. The pain that burned every time his underbelly contracted and expanded was horrible, but some of the snow that splashed up on the wounds from his movement gave relief. Ulrik tried to get along side Torleik and lifting his forelegs one after the other, trying to scrape along the bones of his opponent's legs. Perhaps if Torleik was close, he could not be so injured by those two, curled horns.
[[(787 words) | (2/4)
- bite from before was a little non-existent unless Red wants to write it in somehow :3
- Torleik's horns pierce the layer of skin under his underbelly in two places for each horn and gets caught up under them before rolling off
- as he regains his balance, the mechanical wolf steps in and tries to rambo tackle one leg with jaws open
- Ulrik comes back into the game and tries to scrape Torleik's legs with his own hooves, trying to stay close]]
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[JUDGED] A Machine for Pigs [Ulrik]
