There's an odd shift to the gargoyle's stride today, a twitch of the muscles and tensing of the flesh that isn't usually present. It's like an unwelcome rippling riptide across a normally calm ocean; unfamiliar, unwanted, unnerving.

It is anxiety. It is rampant across Oizys' body, clinging to her like an infection. The facade of confidence, arrogance, bravado is oddly cracked today, spiderwebbed with fault lines that aren't normally there. There's an strange twisting in her gut, like a thousand hummingbirds are flying around in there trying to fight their way out. "Tasty," is Ker's response to Oizys' mental monologue, and she rolls her eyes irritably.

What is the source of the grey mare's nerves? It is the stallion who marches proudly in front of her, a beast of blackened flesh and power, a man who has conquered more in battle than the gargoyle can possibly contemplate. He is her superior, her General, her boss, if she must put such a word on it. And today, she's going to spar against him. She, Oizys, veteran of a grand total of two fights, against the rapier-wielding, malicious beast of a General. The odds are stacked greatly against her, yet she cannot make a fool of herself in this battle. She needs to make a good impression, to repay the herd's faith in her.

That's going to be easier said than done. As she walks, she takes the time to observe Erebos, seizing the valuable minutes to try and assess any advantage that she may have. She's actually larger than he is, stronger, her bulk forged from draft and Andalusian breeds to give her considerable raw power and endurance. Erebos is no lightly-built weakling, though; he's smaller and more slender than the brutish steel soldier, but there's iron lacing that wiry body, alongside agility and speed that must be greater than hers. Their battle will hang in the balance, that's for sure, with only a thin line between victory and ignominy.

The gargoyle girl frowns as she enters the caverns behind her General. "My mother always told me not to follow creepy guys into dark caves," she remarks, her lips tinged with a nervous smile and her tones jovial and devoid of malice. Perhaps calling him creepy isn't the best way to endear herself to him, but he is. He's all broody, handsome, lurky, handsome, stoic and handsome....wait, what was her point again? Shaking her head to clear her mind, the mare follows him to his chosen battleground and nods her agreement at his selection. "Perfect."

There's little use in beating around the bush. If she's going to get her ass soundly whooped, she might as well begin the process. The stone floor is hard underfoot, solid, firm, unyielding, perfect to fight upon, although both combatants will need to be wary of planting a hoof too hard and twisting it upon the myriad of hidden cracks beneath them. It's dark, and Erebos' blue-black pelt doesn't help things, but the flickering lava in the walls helps generate enough light for the mare to hopefully not lose him among the shadows. A muffled screech from overhead alerts her to Ker's presence, and it appears the raptor has flown directly into a stalactite hanging from the ceiling. Yet another thing to be wary of....as though the odds aren't already against her enough without the god damned roof wanting to impale her!

Pointy bits of rock, though, aren't nearly as frightening as the horned warrior that stands across from her, and as Oizys leaps into action she ponders for a moment whether shoving him ass-first into a stalagmite would be seen as an excellent battle tactic or just make him frown broodily at her for her lack of honour. For now, she focuses on attempting to approach him head-on at a canter, seeing little point in trying to maneuver around him in this cramped cave. She seeks to slam her great chest hard into his own, trying to use her superior weight and bulk to force him backwards and assert some semblance of authority upon him. He might have all the experience, but she has a heady combination of anxiety and determination, and that's a strong enough mixture to conquer any odds.

Or so she hopes.

Her head ducks, lowers, twists in an attempt to slash her three savagely pointed horns into the left side of his neck, trying to gouge downwards and create a series of painful lacerations. She doesn't seek to maim or kill him - he's a herdmate, after all - but hopes her blow will alert him to the fact that she's ready to give as good as she gets.

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@Erebos !

SKULL TABLE BUDDIES. I'm excited too! :D

1/3 - 776 words