He had been following the creature, hunting it among the wintery snows ever since it's putrid scent had reached him in the mountains. He had seen it once, from far away, and the visage was revolting. A rotting living carcass of raw flesh and oozing infection that somehow managed to continue surviving, dragging itself across the icy landscape. And so Carnassial followed, tracking the wretch to put it out of it's misery. The brisk thrust of his horn would be a far more merciful demise than that of infection and cold, for surely even in this winter, so mild that the sickness did not descend upon the tiger-marked stallion, the creature would perish of frost's merciless touch.
But the hunter had become the hunted. His head had dropped, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the odor from the dribble of blood that had been his only sign for a day. So compromised that he did not see the hollowed monstrosity as it rushed him, only it's ear-splitting cry giving him warning to toss heel and spring away. Metal gleamed in the light as a sword passed through the air the stallion had previously occupied, and Sial was hardly given a chance to land before a second swing was rushing towards him.
His teeth grit, head twisting as he reared, his long rapier of a horn sliding alongside the sword's edge, not blocking it's force so much as redirecting it, and the momentum of it had Sial spinning, his forehead pulsating from the shock of the impact. The blow that would have split his chest in two merely slit his rump, nicking his thick tail. Another unearthly scream from the creature, barely muffled by the sword in it's mouth as both combatants staggered, recovering from the impact of their blows.
Carnassial was the first to strike again.
Upon dancing hooves he sprang forward, teeth grit against the pain as he thrusted forth, his horn sinking into flesh and tearing with a swift jerk of his head. The creature whirled, it's weapon swinging towards the stallion, but Sial merely dropped to one knee, avoiding the blow before swiftly getting to his feet, backing away from the enraged creature.
He was not swift, he was not powerful.
However he was agile, and could drag this fight on until the creature before him no longer had the strength to wield such a heavy weapon. Even now the tiger-king's keen eyes noticed the flagging in his opponent's breath, the longer recoil every swing brought, the growing weakness in the lowered arch of the wretch's neck. He spotted weakness, and the hunter began circling, light enough on his hooves that the creature could not touch him, yet close enough to taunt and provoke such an attack. Nothing else existed, not in this moment.
All there was
was breath
was blood
was battle
The once-equine gave a final scream before the sword dropped from it's jaws, and bared fanged teeth at the golden-eyed stallion. Carnassial braced himself as the wolfen horse rushed him, it's blood flecked jaws opening wide, wider than any horse ever should be able to.
Breath
He dropped to a knee, his hindquarters bunching beneath him, body growing taut as a drawn bowstring.
Blood
He surged upwards just as the abomination lunged, blood erupting from their union as the tiger-king's horn drove through the creature's mouth, splitting out the back of it's head.
Blood
as the creature's teeth clamped around his head in a final spasm of hatred. Searing pain rolled across his skull as Carnassial struggled with the sudden dead weight, and in a moment of utter gracelessness he fell to his side with the carcass, legs kicking at the air before he managed to twist himself free and gain his footing.
Blood cascaded down his face, his rump, a wounded king standing triumphant over the body of his opponent, a hunter who made his kill. Sharply he shook his head, tossing it to and fro until his eyes were clear enough to see once again, free of the sticky crimson, free to gaze upon his fallen foe.
There was almost a sense of pity within his breast, however such a sensation did not linger long ere the stallion turned to examine the creature's items. A sword and it's sheath, a sword he had no use for and a sheath that was utterly useless without the former. Ill-suiting prizes for his triumph; Sial would find no spoils here, nor did he entirely desire any. The putrid stench still reeking in his nostrils and the blood trickling down his head like a bloody crown were prize enough, and with that decided he turned and began making his way to the Basin, leaving the bloodied carcass of what had once been a warrior in his own right behind.
"Speech"
@Charks <3 The Greatsword and Sheath for Zero, :D
Walls will not hold the winter
All in the way will fall |
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