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09-10-2016, 02:07 PM
only the dead have seen the end of war
”SOMEBODY FIGHT ME GOD DAMN IT.”
The words rang clearly, even above the storm that slicked the Thistle Meadow’s dry grass, leaving a muddy mess. The King’s heavy head rose, eyes made dark by wide pupils that tried to use the arcing lightning to see in the storm’s dimness. In the ethereal light, he saw an outline of someone: a pegasus. Mbwene, who had been mentally grumbling about the rain (though the mud, she knew, would make for good wallowing after the storm), fell silent as her bright blue eyes moved between her stilled bonded and the thrashing equid of flying mud clods.
His eyes slowly sharpened. The woman was familiar—Megaera the Sunspear. Though it took him moments to recognize her in her armor. He had met her in the Threshold… back in simpler times when he had frequented Helovia’s border to greet new souls who sought new beginnings. But now…now times had changed. He rarely visited the Threshold, rarely offered the promise of a new home, a new life. As King, he found himself welcoming those who had chosen the Edge as their new beginning, but seldom was he the one to proffer such a choice.
He shook his massive head slightly, thick cream limbs stained dark with mud beginning to move at a careful trot in the slop. He recognized the need in the Sunspear’s voice. He had felt this same urgency: to lose oneself in battle; to lose oneself in the ritual of blows and parries that were second nature. Numbing the mind with the pain of missed blocks and sore, overused muscles. He had felt it before, in Dorobo. He had felt it here in Helovia, when he sparred Alune.
So the Elephant King’s steps towards the armor-laden pegasus mare were purposeful, despite the caution he took with the slick earth. He would oblige this woman and he, himself, could use a break from his uncertain and lonely thoughts. A fight would be welcome, especially with a pegasus. Their wings required more attention than fighting others, as the King was not nearly as comfortable battling them than other species.
His dark navy gaze was solemn and calm as he approached. He studied his armor in the brief stabs of lightning, though found it difficult to entirely find its nooks and attachments in the onslaught of rain. He was confident only that he saw the feathers of her wings and sharp angles of her legs. The rest seemed to be obscured by armor, but he was not certain. Mbwene hung back behind her bonded, sharp gaze eyeing the smaller, covered pegasus. “Will watch,” her primitive speech promised the Elephant, implying she’d look for a chink in the armor while he began to fight.
With a deep trumpet to declare both his approach and his attack, the Elephant King reared. His massive haunches strained as his great bulk balanced precariously on his hind limbs in the ice-like mud. The Sunspear, with her wings, would assuredly have the advantage in this fight. So, with a lunge, his muck coated, huge, ivory hooves struck out at the very thing that would give her the favor in this fight: her wings. The punishing blow was aimed her right wing, chin tucked tight to his chest in an attempt to protect the vulnerable skin of his neck from her lower vantage.
Mbwene watched avidly, thrumming with her Elephant’s sudden flare of battle lust.
WC: 575
A: 1/3 | D: 0/1
Damage: --
Summary/notes: I have no idea where in Tembo's timeline this is set (bc it's a mess) BUT basically he hears Meg and obliges her by rearing/striking at her unarmored right wing. Mbwene hangs back and looks for weakness in Meg's armor.
The words rang clearly, even above the storm that slicked the Thistle Meadow’s dry grass, leaving a muddy mess. The King’s heavy head rose, eyes made dark by wide pupils that tried to use the arcing lightning to see in the storm’s dimness. In the ethereal light, he saw an outline of someone: a pegasus. Mbwene, who had been mentally grumbling about the rain (though the mud, she knew, would make for good wallowing after the storm), fell silent as her bright blue eyes moved between her stilled bonded and the thrashing equid of flying mud clods.
His eyes slowly sharpened. The woman was familiar—Megaera the Sunspear. Though it took him moments to recognize her in her armor. He had met her in the Threshold… back in simpler times when he had frequented Helovia’s border to greet new souls who sought new beginnings. But now…now times had changed. He rarely visited the Threshold, rarely offered the promise of a new home, a new life. As King, he found himself welcoming those who had chosen the Edge as their new beginning, but seldom was he the one to proffer such a choice.
He shook his massive head slightly, thick cream limbs stained dark with mud beginning to move at a careful trot in the slop. He recognized the need in the Sunspear’s voice. He had felt this same urgency: to lose oneself in battle; to lose oneself in the ritual of blows and parries that were second nature. Numbing the mind with the pain of missed blocks and sore, overused muscles. He had felt it before, in Dorobo. He had felt it here in Helovia, when he sparred Alune.
So the Elephant King’s steps towards the armor-laden pegasus mare were purposeful, despite the caution he took with the slick earth. He would oblige this woman and he, himself, could use a break from his uncertain and lonely thoughts. A fight would be welcome, especially with a pegasus. Their wings required more attention than fighting others, as the King was not nearly as comfortable battling them than other species.
His dark navy gaze was solemn and calm as he approached. He studied his armor in the brief stabs of lightning, though found it difficult to entirely find its nooks and attachments in the onslaught of rain. He was confident only that he saw the feathers of her wings and sharp angles of her legs. The rest seemed to be obscured by armor, but he was not certain. Mbwene hung back behind her bonded, sharp gaze eyeing the smaller, covered pegasus. “Will watch,” her primitive speech promised the Elephant, implying she’d look for a chink in the armor while he began to fight.
With a deep trumpet to declare both his approach and his attack, the Elephant King reared. His massive haunches strained as his great bulk balanced precariously on his hind limbs in the ice-like mud. The Sunspear, with her wings, would assuredly have the advantage in this fight. So, with a lunge, his muck coated, huge, ivory hooves struck out at the very thing that would give her the favor in this fight: her wings. The punishing blow was aimed her right wing, chin tucked tight to his chest in an attempt to protect the vulnerable skin of his neck from her lower vantage.
Mbwene watched avidly, thrumming with her Elephant’s sudden flare of battle lust.
WC: 575
A: 1/3 | D: 0/1
Damage: --
Summary/notes: I have no idea where in Tembo's timeline this is set (bc it's a mess) BUT basically he hears Meg and obliges her by rearing/striking at her unarmored right wing. Mbwene hangs back and looks for weakness in Meg's armor.
Tembovu
the elephant king
Please tag Tembovu.
