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03-29-2014, 11:03 PM
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Torleik
A lone man loved by none: How long can he live? Morir had no inkling of the wisdom in showing restraint in his actions towards Irelyn. Had the blind beast chosen to harm the owl-griffin… Torleik did not often consider torturing another being, but Morir would have earned it tenfold. As it was, Torleik did not wish to maim or kill the other unicorn, despite his affiliation with what the rabicano stallion was beginning to think was some sort of insurrectionary group – though as to their purpose or creed he had no inkling. One thing Morir was not was a monologuing villain. Thank the gods. That this blind, skull-masked male had some decency in him was not lost on Torleik, and despite himself, the dual-horned demon was apt to try to reason with his captor. Luckily, his pride did not allow it. Nothing less than a challenge would suffice, and it pleased him to see his challenge was met. He said nothing when Morir asked if he would reconsider. There was nothing to reconsider. He would not attempt an escape like a coward. Blue eyes, hard like frozen ice chips watched his masked opponent’s movement, taking a few steps back as Morir advanced. The attack was sudden and surprisingly without much telegraphing; Torleik felt an electric surge of adrenaline explode through all of his limbs, giving him an extra fraction of a second in swiftness. Helpful, since Morir was already close and time was short for allowing any manner of dodging – and dodge Torleik did not. It worked against him that his right side was flanked by a tree, as it disallowed him to move laterally without first moving further backwards to avoid the girth of the trunk. Still, the moment Morir lunged was the moment Torleik shoved his weight backwards off his forelegs and reared up and to his right, attempting to offer as little of a target as possible for this unseeing fighter. The stallion grunted in pain as the longest of Morir’s horns caught his ribs just anterior to his flank and scraped a jagged laceration across his middle in a downward sloping diagonal slash. Torleik landed facing away from Morir, the trunk of the tree now between them and blocking both stallions from reaching the front half of the other’s body. As quickly as he could manage through the pain, the rabicano fighter lashed out with his hind legs, kicking backwards and hoping to violently smash his solid hooves into whatever back half of Morir’s body they could connect with. His only options were his opponent’s flank and hindquarters, and he would take either area as his prize; it would hurt, no matter where the kicks landed - if they did. A flare of fiery anger bloomed through the bond the Viking shared with Irelyn, distracting his thoughts from the immediate battle for the briefest of moments. She was still so young and should not have to experience this now, this fright and anger and violence. But fate had brought them here, and though he fretted for her safety and desperately wished to send her away to protect her, Torleik accepted the youngling needed to learn how to fight, to learn how to do the right thing even when her bonded was in pain. At the moment, the right thing for Irelyn was furiously descending in a majestically silent arc, dropping like a tiny, plumed meteor from the flat, grey sky. Her target: Morir’s ears. The owl-griffin was young and could not understand things at the same complexity as her bonded, but it had become clear to her that Torleik knew this beast relied on his hearing. That meant she would hurt it as much as she could. She aimed to slam into the back of Morir’s head with all the weight of a handful of feathers and fury, attempting to find purchase on this gigantic, dark monster by clutching viciously at his mane with her front talons. Her goal was not to damage the much larger thing; she could not do that. She was too tiny. But his ears could not neglect to hear, and her avian voice was powerful. Letting out raucous, deafening screeches for all she was worth, the owl-griffin wanted to disorient this bad spikehead so her bonded could be safe. He was already hurting and that made Irelyn mad. No one hurt her bonded. ----------------------------------------- WC: 714 | (1/4) | HP: 54.5 "talk talk talk" 'Mental talking' Thoughts |
![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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