Metal shoes on flesh is a feeling you know well, a feeling you have come to appreciate after having gotten used to them on your hooves. At first they were an annoyance, a terrible mistake that the Gods had granted them to you, but even mistakes have their uses. Every strike you make is more deadly, every hit causes more damage. It is a warrior's dream. What you were not expecting was the feeling of metal shoes on... something that was not flesh. Armor? You hadn't even noticed he was wearing any, having been so occupied with other matters. Dumb, you chide yourself as you turn, wanting to shake your head for your idiocy but managing to restrain yourself. Your balance is precarious as is. A few surprise tosses of your heavy head might send you careening off course to the ground.

Perhaps it is your surprise, or perhaps you were just too slow, but your bites catch only air, all of your snapping for nothing. At least it was not a massive motion and you did not waste too much energy. But while you've been busy biting at imaginary flies, at dreams in the clouds, your opponent has taken notice. He lunges forward, throwing his head up, his body battering against the shoulder he has already injured. His right shoulder beats against yours, flesh grinding into flesh, your sweat mingling with his hair and hide into some disgusting, foamy concoction that would make the squeamish cringe and turn away.

The pain pulsates in wide bounds, bruised muscle protesting the assault, more blood vessels breaking under your skin, more blood filling space in the tissues and creating pressure where there should be none. A nerve that has been smashed reverberates a more insistent pain, a sharp twinge that seems ready to stick around for quite a while longer. What you don't notice, since you're so focused on the pain, is the swing of his horn through the air at the same time as he lunged, his sword ready to slice your ribs wide open. It must be some luck of the gods, or some serendipitous stumble of your hooves, but it barely brushes past your fur, leaving the hairs a mess but your flesh intact. Why the gods have seen to bless you in this moment, you cannot say, but it is welcomed nevertheless.

But if his attack has come, your shoulder screaming in frustration, then you know it must be your turn to return the favor. Hoping his contact with you has slowed him enough to make the motion worthwhile, you throw yourself into a rear. It takes a good bit of concentration and a fair bit of strength, but somehow you manage. You aren't much taller than him, which you've sort of managed to ignore until this moment, but perhaps you should have taken notice earlier. You had intended to beat your hooves around his spine, to press on the bones that lay so close to the surface there, but it seems it would be a special sort of trick to get your hooves that far over the gray soldier.

Trying your best to avoid his armor, you choose to try and strike your blows upon his right hip instead, perhaps bruising the muscle enough to slow him down before his last attack. You'd like to do more but what goes up must come down, and your body is no exception to the rule. As you fall back to the earth you try to avoid smashing into Ciceron. Normally you wouldn't mind a little extra damage to your opponent but you'll need all the balance you can manage in order to stick the landing and besides, your shoulder- YOUR SHOULDER!

As you land back on the ground, your shoulders scream foul words of hatred into your ears, swearing in a way that would make even a soldier blush in embarrassment. It's no pleasant sensation, that is for sure, but it is the warrior's burden to carry pain. You bite your teeth an squint your eyes, trying to fight past it, keeping one ear on the gray stag and hoping his last attack is aimed somewhere else. You're not sure your shoulders can take another round of damage. And it would be best not to kill yourself over something so stupid as a spar. At least when this is all over you'll be able to sink into the ground and drown yourself in the pleasant haze of a locoweed induced high. As you always say... Life Sucks? Eat more locoweed.


Post| 3/3
WC| 761