Simmering, scalding darkness surrounded the dunes and forced him to rely on other senses; his piercing eyes did nothing to puncture the pervading gloom. The essence of battle heightened the Reaper’s awareness, and his frame sought every drifting sound, from nearby comrades to pending enemies, each incensed body driven to brutal whims and turbulence. Villainous, violent yearnings pulled and distorted anarchic minds into infernal splendor, brought him further into the shaded abyss of desecration and ruin, to conquer, to divide, to terrorize and undermine. He wanted to show the world their power, their prowess, their strength and ardor, the results when one threatened the edge of their glacial walls, their frigid, chilling boldness. He yearned for the Throat to fall to pieces, little bits of shards broken in their sea glass and shore, forgotten, forlorn, and obliterated. What they dared to touch, what they dared to seize, could also hold a knife to their jugular and scorch the remains of their inane pursuits.
However, this treacherous camouflage worked both ways, from their drifting edges of shadowed cover to the balanced actions of their opponents. So at the flutter of wings, at the svelte stroking of wind against feathers, the damned behemoth realized a gliding rat pressed for him, aimed to strike, craved to folly their anticipated upheaval, his audacious sedition. Auds twisted, turned, captured the snippets of nearly inaudible resonance, caused his cranium to rise, gestured sword to the skies, gaze to narrow, and his body to react. What he snared of the challenger’s appearance was minimal, mostly ferocity, underbelly and hooves, but the startling notion and images of his broken spine, his splintered, snapped back, segmented into his ardent mind and forced his carcass to move in rapid momentum.
Deimos swerved immediately to the left, dug deep into the sand and forged swift beats of sideways contortions. The movement saved his spine, but her daggers still beat down upon his right shoulder and barrel, a grinding, perilous, bruising affliction crackling against his vicious sentiments; a painful grunt exuded from his lungs thereafter. The General felt his muscles stiffen immediately, taut and scorned from the blunt impact, but his sword remained liberated, thankfully, from the former, twisting left motion. Her mouth missed the sharpened edge of horn, although her teeth came to siege the right side of his face, tearing hair and pelt away from his cheek, burning sensations carving their way over his argent features, matching older, chaotic scars.
Her surprise over, completed, finished, he allowed the gestures of frustration to sweep into his core, building and looming into abhorrence, into scorn, into barbarity. Protection of her home was admirable, but his malicious, carnivorous contemplations and calculations ignored these looming desires, these honorable sentiments, and drove to malign her valor with his wicked machinations. The close proximity of the Pegasus allowed him opportunities to bestow his own assaults and sieges, and as she seemed to grow closer to earth, to drift towards land and become a part of her sandy kingdom, he maneuvered his frame closer, albeit a bit slower. Grunting once more at the rancorous, sore ailments of his right shoulder and barrel, he aimed to use his lithe bulk to ram into her left side (Were they so similar in build? Could he make her falter, stumble, crash, wings akimbo and flailing? Would she fall? Would she scream? Would she roll into the dunes and cover herself in the earth of her pending grave?). At the same time, he wielded his sword, sharp, keen, razor-edged, and tried to maim the left side of her neck, to puncture, lacerate, and pierce tender flesh.
[605 words.
Deimos is using buffs SWIFT and BULK.
1/4 invasion duel system.
0/1 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. SWP applies.
Deimos moves to left to avoid the slam of hooves upon his back. Andromeda’s hooves impact his right shoulder and right side of his barrel, bruising tender muscles and impairing swift motions. Due to his movement to the left, she also misses his horn, but ends up scraping her teeth down his right cheek, taking away hair and pelt.
At her close presence, and possible landing, Deimos moves to slam his right side into her left side, hoping to render her unbalanced. During this movement, he also aims to stab his horn into the left side of her neck.]
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[O] Monster of the Multitude [Invasion]
