| TREAND
I'm dying.
Burning, burning, burning; heat licking up inside him, pain flaring up, exploding with raw, fierce power, melting him. It was pain unlike anything Treand had experienced, and it was agony. He could not move, he could not do anything to avoid the catastrophic falling into the fires of hell. Had he been killed? Was this truly hell? It was smouldering hot, as if he had truly experienced the fiery pits of the land below, the land of the damned; and still it kept on, for what felt like hours. Forgotten was Azzaron's barbed comment of a mare, a mare named Delinne that had sent him into wild confusion and terrible fear, fear of it being truth; gone was his thoughts of murder and readiness to kill, to tear and pierce and jab and bite.
All there was was all-consuming, ferocious, pitiless, malevolent pain.
Suddenly it was gone, and Treand nearly keeled over, the raw cold too cold, freezing him, shredding him after the burning imperious heat. It was too bright after the black dots and swimming vision, the sun burning and sparkling off the snow into his eyes, and still Treand couldn't breath, lungs feeling raw, entire core feeling as if he had been dying. For a long minute he stood, frozen, unyielding, shivering and shuddering, haunted by the pain that had struck him so swiftly and so cruelly; and then he lifted his head, crimson eyes meeting ruby-gold. Treand's were furious, a cold, obliviating hate, a mad passion that would forgo all petty fights and spars one might find.
Yet as Treand tentatively began to move, he realized he was not burnt on the outside. Slowly, submissively so, he moved forward, head down, coming as close as he possibly could to Azzaron, ears twitching forward hesitantly. A lie, a sham, it all was, but this pegasus could not pick up on this, so simple was his disguise. Head down, eyes lowered, lips chewing. The hot-headed stallion had found it difficult to contain himself from attacking, savaging this creature after realizing he was mostly intact, yet nevertheless he could fight, if only out of the terrifying blood feud he invoked.
He had mounted his girl, the lady that was his daughter and would've been queen, and Treand was ready to tear him- limb. To. Limb. In a sudden flurry of movement, Treand rears, hooves digging in for purchase, muscles surging underneath him, and all of a sudden strikes a bizarre force that Treand unwittingly, blankly used, perhaps summoned by his rage. Time. It slows to a trickle, a steady little dribble that hardly flows. Yet he remains unaffected by it, much to his surprise. As much as he would enjoy to slaughter the stallion, instead he twists to the right of the pegasus, horn moving in a relaxed, swift arc towards the wing tightly tucked against pale flank, ready to score a deep cut along the edge of it.
A moment before he does so, however, feeling more confident with himself the magic stops, and so he is but an inch away from goring this palomino stallion.
WC: 519
Attack Post: 4/4
Magic Use: 1/2
Note about Magic: He pretty much just slowed Azzaron down to 1/2 the speed of himself- but the moment before he actually hurt Azzaron, the magic undid itself, so you can dodge the blow, it would just be very difficult- imagine the slowing of time kind of like adding weight to the 'victim'. Also, to any admins, I've posted in the Updates board for this magic but it wasn't yet updated.
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[complete] Bloodlust [Azzaron]
