Enthusiasm accelerated the speed of the dark stallion's heart beats as a call echoing his sentiments was returned to his eagerly awaiting ears. The grin upon his façade only broadened as the steed who came into view was one he found himself recognising - he was glad to know it was a stallion he had been fighting for and not against at the time. Memories rushed through his mind as he placed the silver grulla and his pale dragon, vaguely recalling the stallion having taken on an injury that had left him immobile for some of the battle, while his dragon defended him and fought in his stead. It was admirable, the devotion shared between them. Azzuen had been preoccupied with chasing down a certain goat-sized opponent then, the most he could recall from the encounter was a dash of white scales and scorching flames.

He had hoped for a friendly spar, and was glad to see the seasoned warrior, an ally, as his opponent. He didn't toss his spear aside, but made a mental note to only use the blunt, wooden end of it, so that he could strike as hard as possible against Lace, and only give the stallion some parting bruises in remembrance of this spar.

The General took silent, mental notes as the grulla approached, absorbing the differences in stature and physique. They weren't totally different, though their breeding obviously leant them varying conformation. Azzuen, being the mutt he was, seemed to be stockier, thicker and perhaps a bit bulkier in muscle. This didn't mean much, as winter had had its effects on everyone - though he had spent most of it in the comfortable climate of the Dragon's Throat. It meant his coat was already shorter, meaning it took longer for him to become sweaty under the Spring-time Sun, meaning he felt the cool breeze all the more sensitively as he was more accustomed to warm, desert-sand breezes. If anything, it made him more alert, more on edge, more ready to take whatever his opponent had to give.

Azzuen nodded a small nod of his crown as the stallion introduced himself, murmuring his own name in response. "Azzuen." he did not waste his breath with any further utterings, however, as Lace was in action. Instinctively Azzuen bowed his crown down, much like a cutting horse when turning to chase a cow, except the move instead allowed him to miss the flailing hooves that waved so dangerously at him. He bowed down to the right, so that he was standing less face-to-face with Lace, rather, his left shoulder was now nearest to the grulla. Azzuen angled his wing upwards, not wanting to inflict damage upon the joint crucial to his ability to fly. The feathers splayed high in the air, and did little but perhaps obscure the other's vision.

With the wooden end of his spear, he wasted no further moments in then striking at the stallion's left side, just behind his shoulder. With Lace coming down from his rear, the angle was awkward. It might catch on the slightly loose skin just behind his elbow, or else give a hefty bruise upon the soft flesh just behind his shoulder blade, before the ribcage began. Azzuen was as precise as he could be with his strike, the spear was like and extension of his own body, he knew how it worked, how to use it best, and what areas were most prone to receiving maximal damage with minimal effort.

His own ears mimicked Lace's during the move, becoming lost amongst the thick mess that was his forelock and mane. After he struck out with the blunt end of his spear, he lifted his muzzle, and re-angled his wing to be lower, more to his side - by this time Lace was presumably on his way down from his rear, closer to the ground, so they were on slightly more even ground. The dark steed now used the bony edge of his wing to wrap around the underside of Lace's neck. The wing itself was incapable of choking or otherwise pommeling the stallion from this angle, so Azzuen swiftly used his weight to push into the stallion. If he was lucky, he might have caught Lace while he was still recovering his balance, and he would be able to simply knock him further off balance, and otherwise assert his dominance in this spar.


[ 735 words.
Azzuen dodges the rear by bowing down and to the left, before surging forward with the blunt end of his spear, aiming for just behind Lace's shoulder area. As he stood up higher, he wrapped the bony edge of his wing around the underside of Lace's neck and pushed into him, trying to tip him off balance. ]

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It stung, the retaliation of the grulla stallion, as Azzuen's shins felt the raking motions of Lace's hooves, he curled his muzzle up in pain and distaste. Azzuen's immediate reaction was to strike out, move his forelimbs, get them out of the way, stop the other from being able to hit them so easily. The small, tender target of his coronet band was struck, however it was only his left hoof that felt the blow - the right one had managed to flail wildly enough out of the way, and hopefully back into Lace's own forelegs. Teeth ground together, as he gritted them against the stinging pain - though his mind told him it could be worse, a lot worse, sometimes those small, stinging scratches were more painful simply because they were more irritating, itched for ages afterwards as they healed, and left scars that could take a season to fade. Just with all the other scars my bodice does possess.. The thought barely had time to gain any traction however, as the pressure of this fight rose considerably.

A deep, rumbling call echoed from the maw of the stallion, as the tender flesh of sinew and joint were clamped between dull, blunt teeth. Again, the General reflected on how much worse this situation could be, how much deadlier it would have been should an enemy have heeded to his call today. He was grateful, that his life was not on the line, and relished in the challenge of tiptoeing along the line of causing severe damage, or damage enough to assert one's prowess in battle. It was a thin, delicate, fragile line, one that he clearly did not have enough practise with - too often had his skills been put to the test in true dire situations, not enough had he simply sparred for the sake of sparring. Even in the pain that was caused, it was refreshing to know he was only defending himself from some bruises and cuts.

The ache of his left wing rendered it awkward to try and take flight, but the intimate contact their bodies were in made that option unviable anyway. Azzuen pulled away, sitting down upon his rump to dislodge the grulla's vice-like grip, before catching a glimpse of white in the periphery of his vision - it wasn't until the stinging of her bites that he realised Fajira had joined the fray, attempting to inflict more damage upon him. It was almost immediate for him to buck in response, but that would require bowing his head closer to Lace, as his hind end would rise. So, instead of bucking, Azzuen let a grin, manic and wild in the rush of the situation, cross his façade. With crackling efficiency, his wild, unruly mane stood on end, and swinging his tail as a sort of warning to the dragon, he activated the magic that would repel from his hide, leaving behind only minimal bald scratches where she had managed to land upon his broad, muscular hide. The Pegasus didn't worry about using his magic against her, it would push her back to the skies, where he was confident her wings would spread and carry her safely away - not like ground ridden foes who would be pommelled only further into the dirt.

With his wings clamped tightly against his flanks now, Azzuen used his hindquarters, which were already engaged, ready for action, to pivot his bodice to his left, exposing his right side to the equine steed of the Edge. The soil beneath him bent to the weight of his body, the grass tickled his pasterns as they carried him about. As he transferred his weight to his front feet, he continued bringing his hind end around, lifting both his back feet from the ground to swing them around, and strike a firm kick out in Lace's direction, using the momentum of his move to its highest advantage. If his aim was accurate, he would touch near where his spear had struck before, or perhaps a bit higher, on the softer, more pliable flesh of his nape. Upon landing from his kick, the stallion pranced forward several strides, bellowing a great, hearty chuckle as he did so. Tossing his handsome crown, he turned to Lace with a smile, even though a small limp affected him, he nodded to this ally, and awaited the dust to settle to see who would rise the victor.

[740 words.
Magic: 1/2
Posts: 2/2
Azzuen flails his forelegs a bit to dodge most of Lace's foreleg strike.
Gets hit with Lace's bite to his wing, pulls back to dislodge him, also calls out to maybe disorient Lace a bit.
As soon as Fajira lands Azzuen uses his magic to repel her away, therefore only getting himself some minor scratches.
Azzuen's final attack is to turn himself to the left and swing his hindquarters around to round-house-kick/double-barrel at Lace, aiming for his neck/area that his spear hit before.

<3 This has been great Chan, they should chat afterwards :-) ]

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