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08-25-2014, 08:46 PM
Your horns hit flesh and the sweet smell of blood invades the air. Crimson drips from your horns, the fluid glinting in the sunlight that drew nearer to the horizon with every moment longer that you spend here. Something in your head tells you that you should not be here, that you should not be damaging this mare. She doesn't know you, doesn't know what herd you're from. You're a large warrior beast, but... well, there's plenty of you in Helovia. You've seen them roaming all about. A little attack on her won't lead anyone back to you, and yet... what if it does?
No. You shake your head. The only discerning thing about you is your leather bag, and even those you've seen about here or there. That strange unicorn from the frozen wasteland, for example. It doesn't matter. The feeling of your chest upon the mare, that sweet feeling of pressure and pain, of pulverization... You watch as she goes flying, pulling up from your canter, and grumbling in some imitation of a laugh as she hits the ground. She's attacked you, and now she will pay for her crimes. You don't have the heart to kill her- that would certainly leave somebody chasing after you- but a little maiming... that happens every day.
Trotting over her, you waste no time in raising your hoof and attempting to slam it down upon, eyes fixed sorely on her chest, avoiding her gaze in favor of accuracy. Perhaps you strike a little harder than you mean to... you only meant to bruise her side and yet... never mind that. Jumping over her as you prepare to exit the scene, you strike out one more time for good measure, your hind hoof, shod with metal shoe, slamming out roughly towards her spine. You doubt she's shifted, after all.
As you run off, you turn back only long enough to look at the child that she has left behind. You feel no remorse at what you have done- it is better for the child to learn at a young age that the world is not kind to anyone.
No. You shake your head. The only discerning thing about you is your leather bag, and even those you've seen about here or there. That strange unicorn from the frozen wasteland, for example. It doesn't matter. The feeling of your chest upon the mare, that sweet feeling of pressure and pain, of pulverization... You watch as she goes flying, pulling up from your canter, and grumbling in some imitation of a laugh as she hits the ground. She's attacked you, and now she will pay for her crimes. You don't have the heart to kill her- that would certainly leave somebody chasing after you- but a little maiming... that happens every day.
Trotting over her, you waste no time in raising your hoof and attempting to slam it down upon, eyes fixed sorely on her chest, avoiding her gaze in favor of accuracy. Perhaps you strike a little harder than you mean to... you only meant to bruise her side and yet... never mind that. Jumping over her as you prepare to exit the scene, you strike out one more time for good measure, your hind hoof, shod with metal shoe, slamming out roughly towards her spine. You doubt she's shifted, after all.
As you run off, you turn back only long enough to look at the child that she has left behind. You feel no remorse at what you have done- it is better for the child to learn at a young age that the world is not kind to anyone.
we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
