I was so enthralled by the sound of thunder and the roaring of the ocean, I didn’t even notice when a certain mistress came from the desert on a cool ocean breeze. Aye, my patched up, broken little comrade; though perhaps not so little anymore, and not just because extra inches that threatened to tower me, (much like the rest.) Still, before becoming earthbound one would have thought her to be a fragile creature (and thus small)—unable to fend off the slightest agitation. Tainted scars would prove such notions completely false, said lass could obviously fend for herself. Aye, she wouldn’t still be living if that much wasn’t true.

My ears catch the whispering sounds of her hooves drawing closer, fatherly eyes rise to catch the feminine frame bobbing over dark dunes. Dual colored mane dances around my shoulders, the elements cause loose tendrils to whip across my neck as body shifts to regard this steel grey woman. Fina slips ahead, gliding higher on the salty breeze—daringly drawing toward the blackening sky. Unfearful as dry lighting cracks heaven apart. Clouds roll in above us, thunder echoes. A smile is already stretching tired lines, welcoming her in a traditional fashion. She says nothing save for returning my expression. Slightly confused by the approach I offered her my muzzle, willing to make physical contact in hopes of releasing whatever pent up stress might be flexing her muscles and flashing those normally complacent eyes, “What ails ye Africa? Are ye well?”

OCC: I couldn’t make him just attack her <<;
Hybridized System! Spar with Africa.
Attack: (0,3)
Defense: (0,1)
No magic
No companion

We had walked side by side in a gale once before; though our needs had been very different. Nay, our souls had been different. She, a virgin, pure in her handlings of this serial world; and I, a soldier. My spirit during those final days of service had been weighted, aye weighted—but compared to the chains of leadership, those links had been nothing but rain sleeking from my body. This meeting was different, when our noses grazed each other I feel a fever of elation building behind those calculating orbs, “what are ye thinking?” I wanted to ask aloud. Aurous pools mused over her facade. My curiosity was sullen only for a moment before she responded, all the while bouncing away like a delighted child.

“I will go easy on you Sultan!”

Easy? A familiar warrior emerged through the strain of lines that had become my face. Ebony corners curve into an almost daring smirk, one ear drifts back and my befuddled expression falls aside. A chuckle swells within my breast, “Let’s see your skills then,” vocals bellow, rising above the storm as waves crash behind and shower our pelts with kisses from the sea. I had an unfair advantage, one of many that my friend here would have to adapt to. Wings. The ivory feathers stretch from their sheath beside my barrel in a wide arch, hungry for wind to fill their boundless sails.

She paces off a few steps, unrelenting goldrods follow the strain of her hips—watching as those muscles flex with each sunken step. It would seem we both are preparing for the moment when her splotched feet might swing into action. My tail, now wet and heavy from walking beside the water, swings aside and splashes my right flank.

The sliver girl draws near, mist swirls ahead of our nostrils—thunder claps overhead in a jolly chorus for us to begin. She came right and I danced my small but stocky frame to the left. Campolina bowed head shifts to angle away from the swell of her larger barrel; while my wings slither close in one swift motion. Steel grey thighs flex and as she prepares to rise up my lips slither apart with the agility of a serpent.

The spot that she deemed to strike is no longer there, I hear and feel a shuffling of sand but the there is no pain, nor the heat of her breath against my body. A missed attempt most likely; there is little time for either of us dwell. Swiftly my neck strides forward, striking out try for a quick but stinging blow across her right cannon or pastern. Patched limbs all the while are pressing ahead, pushing to get some distance between us. While the head is busy, hindquarters flex, and right hock rises in an awkward but practiced strike to hit at Africa’s head, neck or forelegs should they still be in closes vicinity.

OCC: He wears his armor as a collar, he won't be using it for this spar ^^;
Words: 490
Attack: (1,3)
Defense: (0,1)
No magic
No companion

In this cruel game we played with each other, it was hard to not hurt our friends and families. It was even more difficult to be merciful when they pounded us with responsibilities, strife and the like. Africa was learned in this lesson, even as I tried to make my strikes as gentle as possible. It was futile to not feel pain and still learn something—we grew though the pain, learned to accept it, and sometimes to even embrace our world of agony.

Her slender limb brushed my mouth long enough for teeth to settle and withdraw all in one rapid pass. I didn’t bite down with an intent on crushing her leg. She shies away from the pain regardless of my intent though, even as the curve of my hoof finds her fleshy side in a blunt halfhearted kick. There is no victory, I didn’t take pleasure from teaching our family how to fight, how to use the pain and turn it against their enemies.

Africa rose to the occasion. She planted her feet, and I could feel the attack coming but sadly luck would have me in a position where I wouldn’t be quick enough to avoid it. Ears slipped back against the moist mat of tangled mane. Her strong quarters and ample size were quick enough to land a solid blow against the right side of my barrel and the wing that had curled itself tightly there. The pure force of her all out thrust was enough to pry a shocked cry from lips. Round daggers held nothing back as they planted themselves aggressively against the mass of my ivory feathers and ribs.

Pain erupted from the area which she struck, it gushed though my blood and into the recesses of the brain that registered damage. It was my turn to sidestep away; using my smaller portioned frame to gain a little distance between us. Her breeding was swift enough to keep my toes active and apparently strong enough to make me proud. The surprise from her attack was short-lived, and quickly wore off; instead of anger my facade was replaced with a breathless grin, “Good,” I hissed approvingly.

My right wing remains curled in tightly against my side—uselessly bruised. I kept it there because even I was to stretch it out now, the pain wouldn’t help my cause. This Sultan was beginning to understand how she had survived her attackers. Glinting eyes watched as Africa plowed away though the sand, escaping near the surf. Thunder clouds raced above as I recovered and cantered ahead in a strong but weighted pace. Smooth sand collapsed beneath me.

A plan formed to meet her next attack head on. I skid to a stop when she turned to face me, purposely digging my heels into the sand and throwing my one uninjured left wing into the loose mess of soft surf. Scooping up the granules in a swift down beat, I tried to send the flying mess of sand in her direction on the upbeat. Hoping to blind her vision—one second later I had swung my wing back and shifted weight into a standing rear. Forlimbs stuck the air impressively, scattering sand and shells as they went up and down, eager to bite into her flesh. Head uncoiled toward her face or neck, snapping at whatever came in close vicinity.

Words: 561

Attack: (2,3)

It hurt my heart to watch her doe like eyes widen in pain, struggling with a familiar sensation that would likely resurface former memories, painful memories. It was hard to keep dancing along, knowing that I was the one to inflict damage to this gentle warrior who was no longer the sweet and innocent girl that we had made her out to be. Still, it was better that Africa’s brethren taught this dance, instead of those pronged demons that cursed our soil. Sand had sprang into the air and found a blinding mark with perfect aim. My sea soaked forelimbs lashed overhead unrebuked, aiming for the shying girl below. I didn’t smile or feel an ounce of victory by my strength and agility, instead there was almost a sense of guilt. Was I pushing too hard?

Africa didn’t move away quick enough, one failing dagger struck the tip of her snout and my gapping mouth found access to her delicate ear. Truthfully these efforts where halfhearted at best, I was trying to be gentle even as my teeth gave through to that sensitive flesh. Not more than a second after, I pulled away, retracting my salve covered curs behind a black silk curtain.

She had shown impressive maneuverability and taken advantage of me once before, sinking in a surprise attack that had bruised my shoulder and rendered this right wing rather useless. I didn’t know if it was skill or luck, but luck wouldn’t repeat itself this time. Surpassing her speed from years of practice, my quarters loosened their tense hold—collapsing my compact painted frame forward by use of gravity and momentum. I recoiled from her, retracting my dirty limbs back across the loose granules to put some distance between us. Her incisors might have intended to come for my undercarriage, but they arrived too late and instead snapped at bare air in place of soft flesh.

Unmarked maw thrust aside from her failing teeth and limbs, moist mane was flung by the wind in a disarray. Golden points dug deeply into the forgiving sand as I leaned all my weight back into a nearly sitting position, my one uninjured left wing unfurls a split second later. It thrusts forward with one heavy beat that aimed to bat her head or neck hard enough to either knock this passionate Oracle aside, or at least give me time for evasion by use of distraction.

Chest heaves wearily, hissing out a breath of pent up air as ivories slither from their ebony sheath; damp head is coiled as a serpent right before giving a warning strike. Like a spring under too much pressure I lash out with choppers halfway blunted together. Taking point toward her lengthier crown or neck. Somewhere above us a lightning bolt cracked appropriately, urging our fight on as the sky darkened impossibly further. Cold rain began to fall in icy sheets.

Words: 483

Attack: (3/3)

OCC: You defend and then we are done! Good job and amazing first spar!