It was the perfect recipe for disaster.

Teeth snapped together with a sharp bite at thin air as the unicorn surged forward ahead of him - this pleased him, for it was his plan, to get the horned fiend out of the trees. But at the same time he felt complete and utter annoyance that one of his strikes missed the bastard, especially the strike that would have allowed him to taste the salty blood that ran through this enemy's veins. A grunt escaped him as the impact of his shoulder against the splashed steed's hind vibrated through him, his motion continuing even as the unicorn pulled forward another step in the muck below. It was the tree that was originally to Tolio's right that eventually aided him in stopped, as he bumped against it - not hard, more of a rough embrace against the right side of his neck as his forelegs touched back down to earth and his hindquarters ceased their driving forward. Teeth ground together in frustration for the breath of time that passed.

What happened next, well, he supposed he should have expected it. Hooves came hurdling towards him, slick with mud - and it was that fact which saved him from greater harm. The slippery substance meant that as the hooves made an impact against his left pectoral, they then slid off towards his left shoulder, rather than caused any deep damage. A bruise, an ache - he would surely feel it afterwards and his step would be shortened because of it, but right now, it would not hinder his movement, only make it somewhat painful. Of course, this was not what Madyrn thought - he was pissed, furious - the rage as building within him, boiling, simmering over the sides of the pot, hissing and spitting until a red haze seemed to encroach upon his vision, and nothing but destruction would be possible. A deep, growling echo seemed to form in his chest, and it erupted as a roar, even as the unicorn twisted in the mud before him.

Madyrn did not stand still and wait for that damned horn to be pointed at him. Let the fiend point his stick at him, but he was not about to be an immobile target for him. Broad hooves found traction in the mud perhaps slightly easier than his lighter foe, though the feathering upon his limbs did become heavy with the damp dirt - hardly enough to make much difference to his motion, however. The unicorn's words fell on deaf ears, for they were pressed to Madyrn's skull, so that his crown appeared as nothing more than a serpent's sleek head, rimmed by a chaotic mess of dark tendrils, with orange eyes gleaming above a haphazard ivory blaze. He chased the splashed enemy's hindquarters, knowing that they meant less of a chance for his own hide to be strung up by the annoying stick the enemy held upon his brow. So he first took a step right, then swung left, following the motion as the unicorn pivoted upon his forehooves.


Naturally, he is not as swift as the slimmer beast, for he boasted more of the draft heritage in his lines than the Arabic, but that he followed so soon after the steed began turning could give him a chance at landing another strike. So he tried, with all the power of his hindquarters driving his momentum forward, to hit the splashed enemy upon his left cannon bone, using the hard surface of his own left foreleg as a weapon. Simultaneously, his teeth flashed once more, as his eyes, rimmed white with madness, aimed the strike at the unicorn's left flank. Rip, tear, bleed - this was what Madyrn wanted, what his rage fed on. The rage, that was his weapon, but also his downfall. When it set in, he became more reckless, more likely to destroy himself even as he destroyed his enemy. Control, a fading echo, a forgotten thought seemed to hum at the back of his mind - control was gone now, already, as the son of Vorear fought with the passion of a blazing wildfire.

[ ooc :
694 words.
2/4 attack posts.
0/1 closing defence. ]