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10-05-2016, 09:18 PM
Set a fire deep in my soul; One I can't contain, one I won't control.
The King’s intended shallow jab at his Sergeant’s chest easily cuts through the striped, tawny skin. The glass blade is sharp and sinks—deeper, deeper—into Rohan’s flesh. Black rimmed ears tilt backwards; he hadn’t meant to injure his friend so deeply. But the blade was sharper than he thought, and he hadn’t accounted for the antlered man’s forward momentum.
Navy eyes glance at the dripping flesh wound, watching the blood well and flow freely. He understands, now, why the Moon Goddess had wished them to fight with her glass. Before this moment, he had understood in an abstract sense: she wanted them to fully understand the glass’s strength against enemies. But now, here in the moment, the King understands and realizes the damaging extent their glass spikes may have on friend and foe alike.
A reluctant shred of respect for the goddess drags through his chest. After the clearing the bramble thicket and ridding her of her creatures, he had grown a healthy mistrust of the Moon. But now, appreciation weaves through his suspicion.
Though his mind wanders with these realizations, his navy gaze still tracks the Warlander’s movements. His body shifts, or tries to shift, in response to his opponent’s pivots and approach towards his right flank. But, unfortunately, the Elephant’s haunches are still backed against the thick trunks that line clearing’s edges. “Makende!” he curses himself aloud; though his earlier movement, which had backed him against the trees, had allowed him to avoid Rohan’s first attack, he now is trapped for this new attack.
Though the Elephant King does not sit idly and wait for the Sergeant’s sweeping glass spear to land its blow. Ears pin and teeth grit as he readies himself for the pain, but he also takes a half-step forward and to the right with his forehand. Readjusting his teeth’s grip on his own glass spear, he readies himself for his next attack as Rohan’s blade carves neatly into his flank.
A guttural groan bursts from his chest; the pain cannot be ignored. The gleaming, glittering spear slices deep into the musculature above his stifle. His half-step forward has spared the soft tissues of his flank and barrel from the sharp blade, but it also had put the thick muscle of his haunch’s meat right in the path of the sharp blade. Thick skin cleaves with ease, a burst of bright red against black and cream skin reveals gaping and cleanly cut muscle bellies.
The adrenaline surge from the painful, gaping wound clears the Elephant’s mind of the pain; he has but a moment with Rohan in close quarters to mount his next attack—if the Warlander is even still near him. The King throws his adrenaline pumped body up and to the right, though he must balance on his left hind as his right haunch trembles and fasciculates with pain. Teeth clenched around the smooth surface of his spear’s handle, he arches his neck to the right and tries to drive the gleaming, blooded spearhead into Rohan’s right side.
Blood runs in muddy red rivulets down the black and white right hindlimb, flesh wide and gaping in the Edge’s misted air.
A: 2/3
WC: 530
Damage tracker: Deep flesh wound above right stifle;
Summary: Rohan's attack lands on his right haunches, carving a nasty wound. While they're T-boned, Tembo half-rears and curves his body around the right, trying to skewer any part of Rohan's right side with his spear! (image)
Navy eyes glance at the dripping flesh wound, watching the blood well and flow freely. He understands, now, why the Moon Goddess had wished them to fight with her glass. Before this moment, he had understood in an abstract sense: she wanted them to fully understand the glass’s strength against enemies. But now, here in the moment, the King understands and realizes the damaging extent their glass spikes may have on friend and foe alike.
A reluctant shred of respect for the goddess drags through his chest. After the clearing the bramble thicket and ridding her of her creatures, he had grown a healthy mistrust of the Moon. But now, appreciation weaves through his suspicion.
Though his mind wanders with these realizations, his navy gaze still tracks the Warlander’s movements. His body shifts, or tries to shift, in response to his opponent’s pivots and approach towards his right flank. But, unfortunately, the Elephant’s haunches are still backed against the thick trunks that line clearing’s edges. “Makende!” he curses himself aloud; though his earlier movement, which had backed him against the trees, had allowed him to avoid Rohan’s first attack, he now is trapped for this new attack.
Though the Elephant King does not sit idly and wait for the Sergeant’s sweeping glass spear to land its blow. Ears pin and teeth grit as he readies himself for the pain, but he also takes a half-step forward and to the right with his forehand. Readjusting his teeth’s grip on his own glass spear, he readies himself for his next attack as Rohan’s blade carves neatly into his flank.
A guttural groan bursts from his chest; the pain cannot be ignored. The gleaming, glittering spear slices deep into the musculature above his stifle. His half-step forward has spared the soft tissues of his flank and barrel from the sharp blade, but it also had put the thick muscle of his haunch’s meat right in the path of the sharp blade. Thick skin cleaves with ease, a burst of bright red against black and cream skin reveals gaping and cleanly cut muscle bellies.
The adrenaline surge from the painful, gaping wound clears the Elephant’s mind of the pain; he has but a moment with Rohan in close quarters to mount his next attack—if the Warlander is even still near him. The King throws his adrenaline pumped body up and to the right, though he must balance on his left hind as his right haunch trembles and fasciculates with pain. Teeth clenched around the smooth surface of his spear’s handle, he arches his neck to the right and tries to drive the gleaming, blooded spearhead into Rohan’s right side.
Blood runs in muddy red rivulets down the black and white right hindlimb, flesh wide and gaping in the Edge’s misted air.
A: 2/3
WC: 530
Damage tracker: Deep flesh wound above right stifle;
Summary: Rohan's attack lands on his right haunches, carving a nasty wound. While they're T-boned, Tembo half-rears and curves his body around the right, trying to skewer any part of Rohan's right side with his spear! (image)
@Rohan
Please tag Tembovu.
