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05-31-2015, 02:05 AM
SUMMARY
WC: 797
PC: Attack 2/3
Tagged: @[Torleik]
Summary: Ashamin takes minor damage from the shock of hitting Torleik's body. When Torleik tugs his horns Ashamin's tail slips and lands on the ground, and the removal of Torleik's horns from his flesh causes him to fall, so he takes damage from both the horns leaving and landing on stones/at all. When he falls he slides down hill slightly. He lashes his tail up at Torleik, hoping some debris will catch in Torleik's face, and the snap of Torleik's teeth on his tail scrapes his skin. Determined and dumb as a brick, apparently, he lifts himself up and tries to charge at Torleik's side with a limp.
OOC: Yikes, thanks for telling me that Redgod! I have a lot to learn about this new system, I must have missed or forgotten that part (even though I see it now quite clearly, ack.) I will try to stick to the more accurate damage from here on!
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
Everything felt and smelled and breathed and ached like death. The young buck felt the crash of impact as his hooves struck Torleik's spine, shuddering as it sent an unexpected pain through his own body. Of course it was only natural that such a loaded attack would cause the injurer harm, especially if it was aimed at a creature as powerful and thickly built as the Bloodskald before him. It was only logical. But all logic was failing Ashamin where pain prevailed, and the thought of possible shock to his own system hadn't even occurred to the youthful stallion.
He had found some satisfaction when his tail had wrapped around Torleik's bowed horns, but lost it all when his own teeth snapped together, clamping down on air and missing the mark. Ashamin would have let out some sort of reply through those same gritted teeth if he had the courage and wit in him--would have said something to let the king know he wasn't out of the running. but the absence of such composure paled in comparison to the flood of hurt that followed.
The moment his blow landed, Ashamin's concentration slipped. His grip on Torleik's tail was fast for a moment, but fell away at the slightest hint of force on the part of the older stallion at his right. The young paint's snake-like appendage slid from Torleik's two ebony swords with surprising swiftness, landing with a thud on the earth and causing a few loose pebbles to tumble down the hill upon which the pair stood. What came next was the ripping of flesh and the sharp, horrid scent of blood.
Ashamin's eyes shut and everything saw--no, felt--white. Even with his vision lost to the inside of his lids he saw spots and watched them spin as dizziness impaired him. His hooves tumbled down and lost their purchase as his whole figure fell away from Torleik and to the heavy scent of prematurely, needlessly bloodied earth. Though he had no moment for relief, in retrospect he would be thankful only for the fact that he landed not on his injured right but his left.
At the moment, however, all he felt were the sharp sting of rocks pressing into his tender side, scraping him as he struggled to slow the motion of his rough slide starting down the hill. The pebbles, once faint evidence of their dance, became stony, hated thorns in his side. Every muscle ached and the little part of his mind left untouched by the cloud of hurt pleaded for him to give in, but something like courage, something like stupidity, pressed him to stay as strong as he could. Ashamin swept his tail along the earth and back towards Torleik, hoping faintly that traces of debris and the same pebbles that harmed him might be cast in Torleik's eyes, or hell, even his general direction, but the young stallion's timing was his fault.
The snap of Torleik's teeth was a much less painful strike than the wrenching of those cursed horns from Ashamin's side, but it was another injury nonetheless. Ashamin clashed his teeth together to suppress a whimper as the king's teeth scraped the thin skin on his tail. Patches of red prickled through the pristine white of his flesh and dripped into the now dusty, peppered hair that concluded his being.
Through it all, Ashamin could think of nothing but the unimaginable pain emanating from his hindquarter, amplified now that Torleik's weaponry had left its sheath. Somewhere, somehow, through the buzzing of the hurt, Ashamin saw the blurred image of his attacker back away and heard him speak out in a scolding boom of a voice. The king asked a question he could not answer, barked out an insistence that Ashamin was too ignorant to know was simply truth. Something like a refusal followed.
The boy's heart plummeted in his chest.
I will not fight you.
The words stung. He heard them again and again: I will not fight you. I will not fight you if you're going to get yourself killed.
Did he want to get himself killed? The thought crossed his mind in a pale, fleeting moment. He thought of Veril, and of the conversation with Sikeax. Why was he here? Did he want to die?
Unexpected courage like he'd felt in the meadow when faced with the snakes, leapt in his being. Ashamin pulled himself slowly up from the earth, stumbling, half-hobbling, head down, teeth bared to bite, and charged--through pain, through a slowing limp and an instinct to give in--towards Torleik's side with all his might, scattering rocks and sliding as he barreled back up the hill.
"You will fight me," the buck cried out foolishly as he ran, "for death or life!"
Table by Jen, with help from Avis
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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