Posted by Armand on November 9, 2008, 10:49 pm
71.170.8.134
Armand sauntered onto the krieg, his steps harshly marked against the thick snow, to which he looked like a walking tragedy against. He was horribly bright in the snow, impossible to miss visually when the range of the snow had given him away. Still, he would not let it deter his confidence. He carefully strode over the slick spots, or around them rather. His coat felt heavier with the moisture, and bitter with the winter chill that accompanied it, snow gathering on his back. He strode out further until he found his battleground of choice and looked around, raising his head.
The sound that erupted from his throat was disturbing in it's quavering note, eerie in the way it swayed and quivered in the wind, and even so unnervingly commanding as he called Ahriman out. The sound would carry, even in the constrictions of the cold atmosphere, and the steam that rose from him lingered as if frozen in the air. Why Ahriman? Simple. An arrangement. A bet... On which Armand could win either way, and either he could determine that he had no real need for battle school just yet, or that he'd found a worthy teacher.
His steps were like the haunting notes on an ancient Harpsicord, each as daunting as the next as he turned to face his approaching opponent, the shadowed figure approaching in the albino brain chiggers. His expression is marked with a sardonic smirk, his posture confident and his gaze steady.
Then the smirk left his face and he grew suddenly serious. His charm and sauve arrogance had vanished in a flash, his libido silent and observant. In any other situation he was a smooth talker and fairly airy in nature, but when it came to violence he was all business. Nostrils flare as a mask of misty erupts in front of his blood-red body, a snort. Any moment know it would begin.
His ears flattened back as he began forward, nothing sudden to avoid slipping on any of the slick ground, but he relied more on the force than speed of his attack because of this, slamming his left shoulder to Ahriman's own, throwing a good portion of his weight into the attack to try and force him to slip up on the slick snow. He grunted and harshly aimed to bite into his back with a low gutteral sound, foreleg lashing out, striking at his hind leg, just below the joint and into the bone where the leg was less protected by fat and thick muscle. He attempted to push away with his first attack finished, turning to give Ahriman a scrutinizing look from behind, still flat and steam rising out of his nostrils in his panting.
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