There's No Blood, No Alibi[Torleik Challenge]

the Rift

[JUDGED] There's No Blood, No Alibi[Torleik Challenge]

Torleik the Bloodskald Posts: 354

Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 11 HP: 66.5 | Buff: SWIFT

Irelyn :: Plain Griffin :: Molten Dagger RedGod

#10

06-18-2014, 01:22 PM

Torleik
The beard of glory...

If only Torleik had been privy to the hypocrisy of Déodat’s mind. Moments ago the Blood Prince had desired to crush Irelyn’s skull against a rock – but now? Now the murderous usurper wouldn’t so much as consider harming a babe? The disgust Torleik never had the chance to feel…it was almost unfair to deprive the dual-horned rabicano of such a strong emotion. But no words ever left Déodat’s mouth and neither stallion had time to consider what sort of intentions were going through the other’s mind. Irelyn had retreated to a safe place amongst a small copse of trees, Torleik’s worry about her shoved into a corner of his consciousness currently labeled, “Later.” The rest of this battle had to be finished now and whatever damage had been done to his bonded could be dealt with afterwards. He loved Irelyn, but she would not die from that wound. Practicality demanded he triage his care for the urgency of coming out victorious in this moment.

Useful, as Torleik sized up Déodat’s attack with a clear and focused mind, seeing a beautiful opportunity emerge to perpetrate unavoidable violence on his attacker. First, however, the glacial-eyed demon had to suffer through his own pain. The shock that reverberated through his skull when Déodat’s hoof connected with one of his horns was jarring, the impact on his neck a deep and achingly painful blow. All of the pain was worth it when that singular moment Torleik had envisioned as Déodat had first reared came to fruition, and the dual-horned stallion slammed his horns into the Blood Prince’s soft underbelly. He felt the penetration, the give of tender flesh, and a satisfied, primal growl erupted from his lips in harmony with Déodat’s scream. The more lithe opponent fell away from him horns and a serendipitous moment of nothing occurred.

Let it be done… he groaned. His attacker quickly let him know his wish was to be denied, swinging his horn wildly at the black and snowdrift-white rabicano. The blood bay’s horn cut a shallow laceration across the meaty right side of Torleik’s neck, blood immediately dribbling out of the cut and running down his dark pelt with the cold rain. Exhaustion prevented the Bloodskald from crying out with any real force behind his vocals and he felt numbed to the pain; it all thrummed like a separate pulse beneath the surface of his perceptions, there, hurting, but muted.

Déodat’s last, desperate stab seemed to be happening slowly, like the lighter stallion was wading through a thick, viscous form of air or mired down in the mud they slogged through. Cringing and turning his head to the left, Torleik grunted when he felt the pointed tip of his attacker’s horn puncture his flesh before he could back away and remove the invasive shard of bone. That pain came through loud and clear and Torleik imagined he’d almost felt his flesh resist and then pop when the tip of the horn had finally pushed through the lattice of his skin. Drawing away quickly, the Bloodskald put some distance between them and lowered his head, wary, waiting to see if Déodat would come at him once more. The General hoped not; he was done. There was no point in continuing this battle. Both of their companions were wounded, both of the stallions’ bodies were cut, bruised, torn and bleeding, and none of them had anything left to give to this fight.

No more.

[[WC: 574 | Closing defense

Good fight, Selkie :) ]]

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA