The beast was tired. His body had taken quite the toll on his journey for magic; he had felt the pain of daggers in his stomach, weight crashing into his chest, drowning him with their icy clutches and now, the chromed had felt the wickedness of the Moon Goddess. He didn’t know if the magic he would gain would be worth all of the pains, but one thing was for sure; he wasn’t giving up. Even if it meant a powerful women of lavender and magical glares stood in his way, Miseal never gave up and he wasn’t going to stop just when the pain started to kick in, he would finish and he would finish with strength. There was no other way. The chromed did not bow down to the likes of fear, to the taunts of letting go, he raged through the fire until a medal of victory hung upon his chest.

In all of his exhaustion, energy surged into his soul like the fire across the needled forest floor, burning hot and hungry upon the sight of a certain onyx bearded man and his inflated ego. Memories plastered into his mind were painfully summoned, the chocolate woman and her horns piercing his flesh, the innocence of Miseal’s intent all taken as threats and violence. It was no memory that the chromed like to think of, no memory he was proud of, but if this ebonite prince wished for a fight, Miseal would allow the pains of his past to become a fuel for his fire. He did not think of Enna, did not think about how hurting her newest pet would hurt her, he only thought about the great pleasure that it would bring Miseal to see the man bleed.

The chromed was no honorable knight; he did not hate the fight as many did. A monster was allowed to be let loose and Miseal basked in the gloriousness of his recklessness, the freedom that the thrill of a spar brought him. The sounds of chains echoing as they fell to the grounds; as he was let free of his restraints, well it was quite a melody.

The setting was dramatic as ever; the rain slipped down his slick skin and fell into his eyes as it poured and darkened the day. He looked the Princeling over, he was shorter, younger, and Miseal easily beat him in strength, but the ebonite man would be able to keep his breath longer then the massive bulk of Miseal would. He would treat this spar as he had with Cera, excluding the wings this time. They seemed to equal out rather well, but Miseal would have to keep wary of the sharp horn that protruded from the asshole of a basiner as well as his companion that he had not remembered seeing upon their last meeting. Miseal would go for Princeling’s legs first, slow him down, wanting Princeling to feel every step of the agony that had welled within Miseal. That’s what spars were to Miseal, a relief, a way out. He was always too scared of himself and his emotions, so when the unlucky soul came about that wished to spar, they were the victims of his sorrows and furies—and Princeling would not be spared from Miseal’s blaze.

Miseal galloped forward, transforming all of his rage, all of his hates into a sword of strength, wielded of determination and vengeance. He could feel as the transformation took ahold of him, as his striped skin molted into something else—a beast in chromed clothing, golden hooves thundering their beat as water splashed around him and havoc ran wild.

In his current direction, Miseal would crash into Princeling’s left side, which remained true only if the boy did not make some change. Miseal had to concentrate hard on his feet, keeping his hindquarters pumping him forward but his balance stable as the rain penetrated deep within the soil of this war. He also had to keep a wary eye out for the companion, not knowing if the stallion intended on using it or not. Miseal didn’t know much about the bond between horse and creature, but he respected it at the very least. If it came down to necessary measures, Miseal wore his jade dragon upon his right horn and the sight of burns upon Princeling’s face would be quite amusing.

Miseal’s neck tucked in, all of his force pushing and pushing, hoping to clash into Princeling’s shoulder. It was a solid attack to Miseal, for this one didn’t involve having to watch out for the approaching fog and having to see through the sheets of cold rain, it was merely point and shoot. Shoot he did and a fight Princeling would get.

OCC: yay yay!
Damage Tracker:
Attack: 1/3
Defense: 0/1
WC: 791 via word count tool

:: [ Item: Jade Dragon | Offensive. Dragon is worn around unicorn's horn and can spew blue flames. (stolen from Oultik) ]
:: [ Restrictions | Jade has regular durability; flames extend up to 5m. ]

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