R I C O C H E T - - raise your GUN and it's over

The Incendiary had been expecting the dainty mare to flee at the sound of his raging screams, but instead he was met with rebellion. He didn't know whether he was disappointed or excited. His blood began to boil as the brute worked himself into a frenzy, his battle-marred hide aching for the touch of a determined warrior to flesh out new scars. The fact that the challenge in his voice had not gone unheard told him that Kahlua was daring, albeit lacking any intelligence (Who would dare strike out at him?), but the warlord was momentarily displeased that his threats had not sent the lithe dancer running. He would have much rather liked to have watched her ass as it sped away from him than feel her blunt teeth run across his ribs, but all was forgotten when the leaner, more agile vixen charged at him.

What does she think she’s doing? He wondered during the moments that it took for him to brace his stocky architecture, and for her to snap at his flank. Ricochet almost shook his head disdainfully when her whites met his bony hide. There was barely any meat there for her to sink her teeth into – he, too had found it hard to locate food in this dark winter – and her cutting utensils grazed harmlessly along his side, receiving a mouthful of his hair as a parting gift. Turning his head slightly – and into a passing gale – to watch what she was doing, teal eyes narrowed at her tensing hindquarters, his mind for battle anticipating that she was preparing herself for a kick. Stocky forelegs took on the whole of his bodyweight as the dethroned king swung his hindquarters to his right, swiftly performing a front-heavy spin to avoid the painted lady’s hooves. Unfortunately for the Incendiary, the time that he had taken to watch what she was doing had slowed his dodge considerably, and he did not escape her airborne hooves completely. His buttermilk hide twitched with the impact of hooves on flesh, and although her striking hooves did not find much purchase on his evading form, she was quick to administer a numbing ache and developing bruise.

“Who would’ve thought you had it in you?” His tone is mocking and he lets loose a dark laugh, but the tyrant has no time to make conversation. Those few words have given his opponent enough time to face up towards him again. Teal eyes rake over the mare’s splashed pelt before he makes any hasty decisions. The equine is searching for weak spots that he could exploit, and he is surprised to see that the pair of them actually have many similarities. Their matching height and hollow bellies put them each on an equal playing field, but whereas her build was constructed more for speed, his was built for power. She lacked the muscle that his father had worked – and bred – into him, and although they were composed of similar breeds, he was no mixed-breed mutt.

Hooves bombarded the frozen earth as the fearless beast charged across it, sending bits of dead or dying grass flying as the daunting steed charged towards the frail vixen. Gold ears flick backwards at the memory of the collie ripping at the flesh on her right fore, and Ricochet shifts his lead to his front left leg to provide his left shoulder with more power upon impact. His head is lowered and his legs come up high; he knows that his forward motion could present an opportunity for his opponent to strike, and he wants to increase the odds that any flying hooves or gnashing teeth will land on someplace safe. This isn’t his first outing in the wild, after all.

Sparse moments have passed since the dun lurched forwards in a charge, and it takes only a few swift steps for him to position himself on a path to Kahlua’s left shoulder. If the mare was as ‘slow’ as he had made her out to be, then she would hopefully had no time to react his sudden gallop, and he attempts to drive his left shoulder into her own left shoulder as he had before, in the hopes of forcing her weight in her right fore and weakening it even further. Swinging his head to the left with the momentum, Ricochet tries to bash it against her frail ribs and lets his soft fur slide against her own, bringing his head up to her bony withers where he can attempt to grab hold of her mane. If his hold on her is successful and she is forced to stay close to him, then the Incendiary will try to stomp on her left heel with his own left hoof, his shoulder and neck pushing into her all the while.

{800 words| Attack 1/3 | Companion 0/2 | Magic -/- | Defense 0/1| Battle Buffs: Swift and bulk
Summary: Ricochet takes Kahlua’s bite to his flank, tearing out some hair in doing so, and he shifts his weight onto his forelegs so he can swing his hindquarters to the right and away from her kicking feet. She still manages to smack a hoof against his flank, but his dodge away from her lessened the impact considerably. After studying her for a moment, he leaps forwards in a charge, swapping leads halfway through, and tries to barrel into her left shoulder like he did in Dullness, Danger, Delivery, to try and injure her right foreleg/knock her down. He attempts to smack his head against her ribs to cause her some pain, and uses the soft fur of her hide to slide his head up to her wither. He tries to grab hold of her mane there to keep her close to him, and stomps down on her left heel (Coronet band, if you want specifics for your post).}

"Whistle"

R I C O C H E T - - raise your GUN and it's over

Ricochet’s momentum had carried him too far past the mare’s gaping jaws for her to close them around his ear, but she was determined, and she did manage to tear at the tender flesh behind it. His crest, now bereft of hair and revealing the bloodied skin underneath, was on fire. His defensive maneuver to keep his neck arched had made the skin there taut, however, and the dunskin would be happy to find that he wasn’t missing as big a portion of him as he should be. Now, at least, whenever he curved his neck it would not stretch the wound any further.

Successful in his strategy to keep the fighting close at hand, Ricochet grasped at the dark tendrils of mane and struggled to keep his rearing prisoner nearby, his head pounding after his using it as a club. The force of her withers driving into his muzzle as she reared brought pain to the stallion’s clamped jaws, and he grunted in discomfort. It had jarred his blunt tools and slammed them deeper into his gums, causing his teeth and the upper portion of his jaw to let out a rush of blood. His teeth, coupled with the constant ache at his crest, fueled the fires that burned bright inside of the warrior. He was no longer enraged by the insolent femme who had been horrified at the sight of his scars; he was furious. The impact of her knee against the bruised portion of his barrel did not aid in quelling those flames, either.

Momentarily winded by the assault, the seasoned warlord stumbled away from his adversary, unknowingly redirecting her descending pillar so that it scraped against the coronet band and wall of his left hoof instead. The force of her weight on his tender coronet drove the stallion further away from her in pain, and he released his hold on her thick mane to stumble a few steps to his right.

The area afflicted was split and although it wasn’t deep, a steady flow of blood seeped sluggishly from the wound. If it had not been for his faltering steps, the damage dealt to his precious foot would have been much worse, and Ricochet knows that he must not let it come to any more harm. Shifting his weight so that his front right leg carried the most of it, the stocky quarter horse rocks his bodyweight forwards, lifting his hindquarters into the air. The frozen ground beneath his hooves causes them to slide a bit, but the dunskin uses the slippery earth to his advantage, swinging his bodyweight slightly to the left to redirect his strike. His powerful hinds reach out towards the painted damsel in a quick buck and, if his hooves struck true, would deliver a staggering blow to her left shoulder.

When his hooves touch the ground again, the Incendiary lurches forwards, his tail slapping the air behind him, and pulls a tight turn to the right to face up to the fae again. Ricochet’s left fore shudders a bit as he hesitates, but the pain has become more bearable now. His tender barrel convulses from the trauma that had been dealt to it previously, and his breathing comes out in short bursts so as not to lace his belly with stabs pain.

The battle is far from over, however, and as hard as it is for him to admit, the stallion’s weary body is beginning to tire. Blood trickles down from his neck and his hoof, and when he parts his lips to bark out a command more of the crimson liquid departs from his body. His gundog had only made one appearance as of yet, and it was time for the supporting members of the cast to play their parts. The Incendiary needs only to speak one word, and then the curtain can go up. “Attack.”

Together they charge, each as determined as the other to enter the – nonexistent – spotlight in the darkness that surrounds them. The boy lunges to his target’s right side (regardless of where she has moved to, if at all), his lead set on his right fore to keep his aching left off the ground as much as possible. His dark maw, slick with his own blood and glowing faintly from the distant lamptree, shoots out towards the frightened creature’s nape, his jaws aiming to take a chunk out of the thickest part of her neck. After his intended bite, Ricochet lifts his upper body into a rear, his heavy hooves striking towards the mare and aiming for the area between the right side of her neck and front portion of her right shoulder. While the stallion performs this maneuver, the collie bounds behind the mare, his powerful jaws aiming to clamp onto her right gaskin.


{800 words| Attack 2/3 | Companion 1/2 | Magic -/- | Defense 0/1| Battle Buffs: Swift and bulk
Summary: Due to Ricochet's forward momentum, Kahlua's bite misses his ear and she snags the crest of his neck instead. Receives a headache from clubbing her with his head, and when she rears it jars his teeth, causing them to bleed. Her knee manages to smash into his barrel, and he is winded and stumbles a bit away. His stumble redirects her striking hoof so that it clips his coronet and hoof wall, and he stumbles further away when the pain hits him, releasing her from his grasp. He lurches forward and turns to face her again, and after taking a quick moment to rest, he calls to Guns to attack and the pair charge forwards. Ricochet aims for Kahlua's right and tries to bite her neck, then rears up to try and slam his hooves into her neck/shoulder area. Guns runs behind Kahlua and tries to latch onto her gaskin.}

"Whistle"

R I C O C H E T - - raise your GUN and it's over

Success! Although his foe had sprung forward to redirect his bite to her rear, the stallion had still managed to cause harm to her. His lips closed around the bone of her croup and with a ferocious jerk of his head, Ricochet’s mouth departed from his adversary with a mouthful of her ebony hair. The rear that he had performed had not been as lucky, although his hooves did drag their blunt edges down the paint’s hind leg. The buckskin had not thought to protect his foot when he had performed the move, however, and upon impact with the ground – and with his foe’s bodacious ass – waves of pain stemmed from his coronet, causing him to stumble as he landed.

The Incendiary’s invisible audience had fallen into a hushed silence at the sound of one of the actor’s cries. The painted mare had struck out towards the collie as his nimble body turned to flee, but he had not been fast enough. Like a snake – coiled and patient – Kahlua’s merciless weapon had waited for the best moment to strike, embedding itself into the flesh at the dog’s collar. A mangled bark slipped past the canine’s dark lips and he stumbled away from the clashing equines, gasping for air. The warlord’s ears snapped back at the sound of the strangled cry, but the Incendiary gave no pause to tend to the wheezing dog. He had his own wounds to lick, but he would save all that for later. His attention was focused on an angry woman, after all.

Not liking the position that the mare had forced him into – or the rear she was preparing herself for – Ricochet spun on his hind legs, pushing his chest and right shoulder closer to his foe as he twisted his front end to his right. The pale stallion quickly backed away from his assailant, his hind legs slipping on the uneven ground, rendering him unable to block the oncoming attacks completely. Her hooves slammed down on the right side of his chest, tearing at the mass of muscle and flesh, and her gleaming teeth ripped at the skin on the right side of his neck. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad there as the scrapes on his leg, but his chest stung just as much as any other surface wound. He knew that every movement he made from that moment on would cause his pectoral muscles to burn, but it wasn’t as if he could just stop moving; the duo-toned mare was flying towards him, and he lacked the space to move out of her way. Even though his mind was struggling to keep up with the situation – and her words – his body knew just what to do.

And just like that, he met her in the middle.

Fueled by his masculine desire to conquer, the buckskin propelled himself forwards, tears stinging his eyes as pain laced through his breast. Although the pair of the equines were similar in height and build, Kahlua had been making much lower rears than normal, and Ricochet tried to use this knowledge to his advantage. His hooves went flying as he tried to raise his upper body so that it towered over hers, aiming for the femme’s breast and throat before her body slammed into his. Trying his best to force the whole of his weight on top of her, his naves laboring with the effort to breathe at this point in the battle, the brute made a few exhausted attempts to tear the flesh on the left side of Kahlua’s neck with his teeth.

The stallion’s blurred blue gaze roamed the darkness that surrounded them, unsure of what they were looking for. It took a few moments for the warrior to regain his mind, but they were all that he needed to realize that he was not alone in this fight.

“GUNS!”

He knew that the anger in his voice would have been enough to make the wounded dog flinch, but he also knew that his loyal servant knew better than to ignore his commands. He watched the dog limp behind the mare, the white of his collar showing purple from the distant glow of a lamptree, and waited with giddy anticipation for the dog to make his move. Becoming more determined in his attempt to send his foe crashing down the hill, the Incendiary attempted to batter her shoulders with his hooves and arched his back to try and lean more weight against her. The tyrant knew that he was putting himself in a dangerous situation, too, but he was placing his bets on the state of her right gaskin. If the Gundog’s attempt to tear at the extensor muscles there was successful, then perhaps he had a chance to take the lady down after all.

{800 words| Attack 3/3 | Companion 2/2 | Magic -/- | Defense 0/0| Battle Buffs: Swift and bulk
Summary: Guns is kicked in the throat and then stumbles away from the battle, gasping for breath. Ricochet follows through with the attacks that managed to hit Kahlua from his last post, and upon landing from his rear his leg experiences some trauma. Turning on his hind end and swinging his front end to the right, – and into Kahlua’s rear/hooves – Ricochet backs up a bit, slips, then gets battered on the right side of his chest by her hooves and her bite tears the flesh from the right side of his neck. Now face-to-face, Ricochet meets her leap in the air, his hooves churning to try and get a few quick hits in before their chests slam into each other, where the two are locked together as he tries to lean his weight against her. He then tries to tear at the flesh on the left side of her neck with his teeth. Realizing that Guns was still around, he calls to his companion, who moves behind Kahlua to bite at her right gaskin again. During the time it takes for Guns to perform the move, Ricochet tries to push against Kahlua more and attempt to scrape her shoulders with his hooves.}

"Whistle"