Eat dust (Midas x Silk)

[JUDGED] Eat dust (Midas x Silk)

Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0

Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 5 (Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE

01-23-2014, 12:48 AM

The battle was going ill for the stallion who called himself Satanic Silk. He was not new to battles, but it was clear that the expertise of the lead stallion of Dragon's Throat was more than he was really able to handle. It was disconcerting, annoying, and undermined Silk's confidence in himself. Though he would certainly not surrender to the mighty King, he had a feeling this would be a loss. There would be no scratch in the bed post to mark a new victory. Both of Midas's had hit now. A gash on his neck, the blood still trickling down, matting the winter hairs there. It stung, and sharpened the dark brute's focus. Adrenaline coursed through his body, the hormones helping him push past pain and focus on the current matters. Those current matters? The even larger gash that was now on Silk's left side. He cried out in pain as Midas's hooves met with his flesh. Though generally well-balanced, Silk felt himself move off-kilter, side-stepping with the effort of the blow. The quick movement of the brutes caused a bigger gash than if they were standing still, and what showed was at least eight inches long, and bright red against his dark skin. It would most definitely bruise, and surely scar. The bat-winged beast huffed and grunted, trying to think through the pain. The wound would slow him down, and his breathing would be pained and difficult with the bruised rib. He hoped there were no cracked bones, but even if there weren't, he was certainly at a disadvantage, if he wasn't from the very beginning.

With a squeal he turned on his haunches, pain radiating through his body, and used one large wing to swoop down, catching the sand below the two brutes, and tossed it up in King's face. The momentum of the wing would hopefully knock the King, and then Silk leaned forward, ivories extended and bloodthirsty with his lips curled back, ears pinned against his skull. His orbs burned bright. He aimed to get a mouthful of wing or side, if possible. He wished in that moment that he had fangs, to latch onto the king's side. But as it was, his ivories were as ready as his mind to scrape for flesh.

WC: 379
Attack: (2,3)

Satanic Silk

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