He wasn't battling a dewy-eyed beginner fresh in his first battle, that much was for certain. It took skill and reflexes to be able to squeeze in the kind of fine-tuned attack as the slice of the horn just before the tackle began - one mistake and the horn might slip, stab the silver neck, pierce the flesh and get stuck there, potentially breaking the neck of the stone-coated offender because of the speed. Only, Lace wasn't going to make the kind of mistake that would allow him to be stabbed.
Suspended in the air and mind clouded by emotions there wasn't much he could do to avoid the cutting strike of the horn. His only choice was to lean ever so slightly to the right, averting the head and thus also the neck from the stormy reaper; and groan, a pained noise that rumbled in the chest as the horn scraped over the ribs and cut a thin, bloody line across the black tree that branded the left shoulder.
Then came the impact, the kick that just barely connected with a bony knee yet still managed to coax a vocal reaction from the so far mute general, and the impact as he landed on the ground. Teeth clamped around flesh for a fraction of a second and was left with little but hair to chew upon as the bite at the eye failed.
Alas, that it had to fail. He could have used a blinded foe, and the boost it would have given him. Now he was faced to kick into thin air once more, as the rump of the Basin warden disappeared from his side. Perhaps a moment of inattention from his side allowed him to miss a move from Deimos, because suddenly he was no longer siding with the glazier but instead strides away, enough to charge with arched neck and horn at a ready; aimed at his own barrel, no less.
This time, it was only reflexes honed after many years of battle that saved him. Surprised and caught off guard, Lace instinctively swerved rump to the right, away from the attack so that he stood face to face with Deimos. Using the connection with the wood of the trees he had prepared, a thin spear of tightly intertwined roots, supple yet sharp, suddenly burst from the moist ground beneath the chest of the unicorn, intended to pierce skin, draw blood and distract as the silver stallion stepped aside, dancing a limping dance to the right despite the complaints of both shoulders and scraped ribs.
Breathing heavily now, the stallion took this short second to inhale and assess the damage. Deimos, with a side that was charred and burned, affected by a complaining knee. Himself, cut at shoulders and ribs, scraped on a leg and tiring quickly due to the cursed fear that made him freak at the least favorable times, acting stupid and taking unnecessary risks.
Angry at himself for caving in to emotion so easily, worried that loss of blood would weaken him further - that he might end up loosing this battle because of it - he decided to act. Suppressing anger, fear and pain at the best of his ability, he threw himself to the left, intending to crash into the left side of the spear-bearer with his entire weight. Lets find out how good he was at keeping his balance; lets find out how he liked teeth snapping at the bone of the hip, and sharp hooves raking down the cannon bones. The Glazier was growing tired of this now, and he wished for it to end.
If he could just expel the panic from his head, throw it as a weapon against this formidable foe. It was so unbecoming, that a seasoned veteran would allow himself to be affected by something like death. He should be used to it by now, ready to welcome it when the dark mistress determined that his time had come. But once faced with a very real threat to his life, the gilded knight found himself hesitating. Objecting. For the sake of his friends, his family, the dragon that so faithfully waited to assist him. For the sake of the gilded shadow-mare who's heart was clad in scales and wreathed with a crown of fire - oh, how he wished to see her again before it was over.
For her sake, he was not allowed to die.
[OOC: Word Count: 742 Post 3/4 Magic use 1/1, remaining magic 0, Companion use: 0/1
Took the horn attack as a scrape over the ribs and shoulder, lessening the depth of the wound by shifting slightly to the right and leaning the neck away from the attack.
Upon being attacked from the side, Lace turned the rear end right to end up facing Deimos, using magic to form a spear of tree roots and tried to stab his chest from below. Hoping for it to distract, Lace immediately moves to the right, then leaps forward to once again place him alongside Deimos (now head to tail). Attempted a bite at the left hip, tries to rake the left front hoof down Deimos's left rear cannon. ]
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[JUDGE] instruments to plague us [challenge for freedom - lace]
