YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR His sweating, heaving frame finally moves to a halt, his victory assured. The success, however, feels oddly hollow, overshadowed by the mare's brazen attempt to drive her horn through his heart. His final barrage of blows had caused a satisfying level of damage, and the small ounce of morality within the stallion's soul feels that he could probably have been a bit less brutal. But what's done is done. Volterra fights like he lives - raw, feral, with his heart on his sleeve. And his sympathies are considerably lessened by her savage final attack - any woman who attempts to turn a fight into a deathmatch certainly hasn't got any issues about her opponents returning her barbarity. His nostrils are flared widely as he snorts in several deep, exhausted breath. Although victory goes a long way towads lessening his pain and tiredness, it does not eliminate it completely, and each muscle throbs with the effort of fighting in such trying conditions. The dragons howl their savage delight in the heavens, circling above him like vultures over a carcass. They adore seeing their bonded's repeated successes on the battlefield, knowing that each one brings them closer to their dreams of glory. She pins her ears and glowers at him, and the leviathan glowers right back, drawing himself to his full and formidable height. Well, you could have fooled me! "I don't recall attempting to kill you," he growls, his ears flattened to his head and his eyes rolling with the aftershocks of his anger. With the end of the battle comes a dulling of his rage, but it still hovers in the background at her audacity. "Tell me, do you always attempt to murder your opponents, or should I consider myself special?" He fixes her with his grumpy crimson gaze. |
Set directly after this! @Sjal
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.0 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.0 hh :: 4 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ansgar :: Plain Griffin :: Draining Clutch ChaoticMelodies |
”Oh, like I was going to succeed,” she scoffed irritably, her ears pinned firmly to her skull. She’d never have managed to bring down the brute, even if she had scored a lucky hit. He was too big, and clearly too experienced, to have been defeated by a young girl still new to fighting. ”Don’t tell me you were scared of little ol’ me,” she needled then, flashing a falsely charming smile towards him and batting her lashes. It was clearly sarcastic, and for a moment she bore a striking similarity to her mother.
Shifting her weight (and wincing noticeably, much to her chagrin), Sjal lashed her tail against her flanks, still refusing to back down. If the stallion wanted to hurt her further, she’d be in no position to fight him, especially now that her blood was settling and the adrenaline was draining from her system. There was nothing left to buffer the aftereffects of his painful attacks, and she wanted more now than ever to just go hide in the woods. Why had she come to the Endless Blue in the first place?
"Speak."
--Ansgar.--
Pixel by Reli <3
Please tag Själ in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Själ? Visit her plot page here!
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5 |
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE |
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow |
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR She fixes him with a quite impressive death glare, which he returns with interest. He's still breathing heavily, his muscles thrumming with unspent energy, his forelock falling into his eyes in sweaty strands, and each of these things help to enhance his menacing appearance. She draws herself up to her full height, giving as good as she gets, which is enough to earn her some modicum of respect in Volterra's discerning eyes. Although he adores the utter submission of his opponents, he can't deny that it's nice to see a little firecracker as well. She goads him by questioning whether he was scared of her, and his own ears flatten to his head in irritation. "I don't get scared, méregzsák," he growls, his crimson eyes livid and dangerous within the black and white of his face. "But I do get angry." His tail launches crossly against his thighs, splattering hard into the sweat that laces his flanks as he stomps one colossal hoof. Now the initial heat of the battle has faded, so too does his anger; he keeps his body rigid and tense, however, simply to prove a point. She shifts and visibly winces, but Volterra has little sympathy. If you choose to play with fire, you will get burnt. Still, he does have an iota of chivalry within his heart, so he finally allows himself to relax and offer her a slightly less angry expression. "You should seek a healer for your wounds." This seems to happen to him with alarming regularity - he loses himself in the fight, beats the ever-living shit out of his unfortunate foe, then has a fit of guilt in the aftermath and offers to walk them to their herd or their nearest healer. The Indomitable reassures himself that this wouldn't happen in a real fight, yet he should really stop being such a soft touch to his vanquished enemies. He doesn't want to gain a reputation. "Have you got a herd? You should not travel there alone in your state." He's injured too, but nowhere near as badly as she is. It seems only fair that he escort her, given the fact he'd done this to her. |
méregzsák - spitfire
@Sjal
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]