04-23-2016, 06:55 PM
PHAEDRUS
He calculated coldly, imagining the diferent angles he could take. Each one only meant to cripple the other within the battle. He had no desire to encompasitate for life. The others eyes flicked away and in that moment he charged, attacking as he can. He thought up things on a whim. Hooves caked in mud suck at the ground. Sticky thuds lurch grabbing and holding his hooves begging to keep him grounded, a flurry of movements in a primal dance to raise the adrenaline surged through the battle grounds. Mud flew specks landed on his face and mane. His haunches and legs covered in the grimm. Plumes of air exit his widened nares, the rain dribbled down the velvet lips. They backed away from one another.
Slick blue ran in rivlets against his thickened neck. As massive as he was Phaedrus was puny compared to this draft. Himself only a half breed, sucking thuds alert him to the onslaught of a deep reverberating clash to his side directly past his ribs. Teeth ground tight holding back everything but a grunt. This turned into a stumbling cough. The blue tipped stag had lost balance resulting in a stubble away from the other. This though as painful as it was, was something to later thank the stars about. It saved him from not seeing the next attack, allowing the elasticity to loosed his bones and ply his muscles into nothing more than rubber. He caught his breath, just as he has the hefty weight of the other lands against his now lucid side.
Muscles would still bruise but the stretch keeps bones from breaking, and organs from erupting. Turning would be difficult now, but dashing forward hind legs dug into the mud knees nearly skimming the ground in attempt to move out of the away.
Before the stallion has time to recover from his rear, Phaedrus extends his neck abnormally long reaching for the tender skin and muscle where leg and barrel met. grabbing and tearing was his ultimate goal. If at all successful the leg would be bitten not only on the tendon just above the back of the knee, but also the muscle that gave so much power to his hindquarters, possibly crippling the stallion for the remainder of the battle. Walking would prove to be difficult much less attacking. Hind legs are a pivital member of the body in a battle after all.
Extending his wings Phaedrus begins to flap them franticly, feathers reaching to blind the draft. Shoulder to shoulder they stand for a moment, two, three. The seconds felt like like minutes, the minutes like hours. Each move so critical to the survival of each. Phaedrus swerved away from the horse in the last second. The stretch on his side searing with pain. His teeth clenched Phaedrus hides the deviously thinned smile as the other attempts to taunt him. Strings of blue thick on his skin, block his sight for a second. Sending out a roundhouse kick of mud and and splayed hooves he attempts to make contact with the shoulder that he had previously bruised. Hind quarters though strong are attached to the same barrel that had been attacked. This does not make the attack strong, nor the landing easy, he nearly crumpled in his landing the contraction of sore muscles screaming in pain.
Might have a little more left in this old man. He dashed forward making a wide arch to come back and keep the other within sight. The drizzling rain nearly blinded him, as he was sure the other experienced too.
Slick blue ran in rivlets against his thickened neck. As massive as he was Phaedrus was puny compared to this draft. Himself only a half breed, sucking thuds alert him to the onslaught of a deep reverberating clash to his side directly past his ribs. Teeth ground tight holding back everything but a grunt. This turned into a stumbling cough. The blue tipped stag had lost balance resulting in a stubble away from the other. This though as painful as it was, was something to later thank the stars about. It saved him from not seeing the next attack, allowing the elasticity to loosed his bones and ply his muscles into nothing more than rubber. He caught his breath, just as he has the hefty weight of the other lands against his now lucid side.
Muscles would still bruise but the stretch keeps bones from breaking, and organs from erupting. Turning would be difficult now, but dashing forward hind legs dug into the mud knees nearly skimming the ground in attempt to move out of the away.
Before the stallion has time to recover from his rear, Phaedrus extends his neck abnormally long reaching for the tender skin and muscle where leg and barrel met. grabbing and tearing was his ultimate goal. If at all successful the leg would be bitten not only on the tendon just above the back of the knee, but also the muscle that gave so much power to his hindquarters, possibly crippling the stallion for the remainder of the battle. Walking would prove to be difficult much less attacking. Hind legs are a pivital member of the body in a battle after all.
Extending his wings Phaedrus begins to flap them franticly, feathers reaching to blind the draft. Shoulder to shoulder they stand for a moment, two, three. The seconds felt like like minutes, the minutes like hours. Each move so critical to the survival of each. Phaedrus swerved away from the horse in the last second. The stretch on his side searing with pain. His teeth clenched Phaedrus hides the deviously thinned smile as the other attempts to taunt him. Strings of blue thick on his skin, block his sight for a second. Sending out a roundhouse kick of mud and and splayed hooves he attempts to make contact with the shoulder that he had previously bruised. Hind quarters though strong are attached to the same barrel that had been attacked. This does not make the attack strong, nor the landing easy, he nearly crumpled in his landing the contraction of sore muscles screaming in pain.
Might have a little more left in this old man. He dashed forward making a wide arch to come back and keep the other within sight. The drizzling rain nearly blinded him, as he was sure the other experienced too.
So so so sorry this took so long
I am really enjoying these two together. <3