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11-25-2016, 08:29 PM
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tinker tailor soldier sailor rich man poor man beggar man thief.
Any fight in Helovia would be unmatched to the horrors witnessed in Dorobo, or the bonze pyramids you’d find burning in T’det. The smoke, the ash, the burning among the snow and ice and fire unnaturally mixed. Violence was all too common to the palomino even though it was never exhibited in his stride, his countenance, or even the way her help his newly-crowned cranium.
No, Toulouse did not appear as the kind to have seen true cruelty or turmoil - in fact he exhibited the traits of a boy who had perhaps been sheltered from such soul-scarring things. The parseltongue walked slowly, never with an urgency and always much too straight. He was a man who bore only the scars of a vicious castration and none of battle, and did not walk with a limp or a crippled back like seasoned warriors might. Upon hearing the contender’s cry, Toulouse found it hard to resist. This pearlescent man was the owner of a new identity and a new reason to prove himself; there would be no harm in a friendly spar to get his blood pumping and a good tune up? A wrestle with a like-minded mutt was what the gelding hoped for at least when his ascent towards the call began. The flaxen contender stepped fourth, his careful footfalls taking him off the snow and onto the cleared earth beneath. Noting the black ice blow his feet, Toulouse eyed his competitor with a twist in his maw, smiling ever to slightly at the sanguine-eyed brute. His opponent was a similar height, though proudly boasted an abundance of natural muscle - something Toulouse’s genetics had not granted him. However, swiftness and natural endurance was on the akhal’s side perhaps. The pale one was narrow and magnificently slender compared to the bulk of the other contestant. Then was the matter of the weather. Having spent the better part of his life slipping over yellow fields of rye, snow and black ice, Toulouse was quite in his element here. Glancing over the earth for higher areas where he might find some traction, then inspecting the lowest and most slippery planes in the arena, the gelded one took note of each. In reality, he was most likely no match for the beast who stood before him, but he couldn’t back out now. “Sir” The pale one bellowed, bowing to his opponent from across the arena. It was possibly out of mockery that Toulouse did this, but certainly not out of respect. He straightened, releasing his body from the less-than-flattering position of a bow and bellowed another hoot at the challenger. “Keen to dirty your hooves are you?” As he spoke this Toulouse took his right leg and threw it in a downwards strike, stomping his hoof with deadly force into the earth and the ice below it. The cracks that resonated below it caused him to grin zealously as he bowed his crown to brace for an attack, though would try his absolute hardest to slink out or under the black beast when the time came. -------- 0/3 - 517 words. nope u go first im scared LMAO never sparred before!!! summary; Toulou approaches, bows to vol and then braces for the first attack by lowering his horns! (he recently aquired a set of Jacobs sheep horns!) |
I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—
EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS
SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—
EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS
SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD
