Posted by ETHEREAL on November 12, 2008, 9:55 pm
64.12.117.65
Snow… It had fallen heavily with the vibrancy of the ages from a pallid gray sky of naught but ambiguity. Big, fat, fluffy wet flakes fell to crash along the rock and dirt and dying grasses of the swamps where many had died and others had reigned triumphant and supreme. But this was the world where Ethereal became a burning light of triumph blazing bright regardless of the biting cold that threatened horses not heated by the inner flame she fathomed and cradled. The snow, white and yet so dark and oblique melted and sizzled beneath the hooves of the stygian fiend as she walked with catlike grace and dignity from the already blizzard kissed halls of Andarin out through the barely knee deep snows of Blitzkrieg’s lower elevations. It had become a winter wonderland, the freezing temperatures having changed tree limbs and the remaining leaves to ice covered ornaments that dangled precariously for her winter-blue eyes to take in. And take them in she did as she strolled without fanfare through the barren trees and the proud standing evergreens and out onto the too bright world of Blitzkrieg.
Her eyes scanned along the blinding snows as the winds from a beast all too familiar encouraged and coaxed her. She simply couldn’t see the beast she was supposed to take up the art of war with, but she could feel him. She could feel the blessed power his air swelled her veins full of. She could feel stoking her crackling flames with it… And almost hear the way it bolstered against the bitter cold she simply could not feel. At a walk she made her direction forth to find him, carefully avoiding and noting the slick spots as she moved with languid strides through the deep deep mire, hell-bent on keeping her balanced but all the while testing to see just how she could manipulate and monopolize the wintry situation. It was at seventeen paces the mare tucked her head, chin to chest, her massive feet fell against and through the snow as burning hot pistons to grab purchase against the world below. As her forelock fell past her eyes she could see they were about head to head as horses in battle should be. There would be no cowardice in her first attack nor in the preamble of this battle they fought as she closed the distance between them. Whether he moved or not would be of little consequence. She’d follow him. But for the while she aligned her magnificent body just to his left and at two paces the mare slowed her procession, by one pace off she was at a halt and her muzzle was extended to his to drink of his breath with twitching taught neck muscles and ears pricked forward and her eyes wide as one breath became two as her muzzle lowered in a most equine fashion as she met the animal for the first time. His air fed her flames and made her nearly omnipotent as her element served to reach out in an attempt to manipulate and control his strength and ability to breathe as her fire served only to draw from him his very essence; Air.
But the split seconds of peace were to end. The red fiend’s ears slicked back into the tangle of black and silver at her poll and her teeth flew to the side in front of a violent squeal towards the tender tissues of Altair’s nostrils and lips in a warning bite that was never meant to land. But in the flurry of the action just as her teeth went flying the mare’s right foreleg lifted high, her left toe only barely left the wintry earth to keep her balance, and out she struck towards the stallion’s left leg from upper forearm on down with her white hot hooves blazing. Her aim was to slam into the caramel stallion’s much needed muscles and ligaments in the forearm, or to hit and lame him from the knee down through the cannon bone, perhaps dragging across the fetlock before landing. Her goal was pain and pain that would force him to slow down and force him to limit his mobility on that limb if not render it useless beneath the crushing force of her fire blessed blow. The beauty of the attack designed so righteously around the language of Equus. If he moved to the side, some facet of his limb would still be endangered whether it be the inside of the limb or the outside. Should he rock back it was unlikely he’d have the time to scuttle backwards fast enough to disengage the oncoming driving force of her assailing hoof. But now in the depth of the snow the mare’s left toe was back on the ground shortly followed her right. And she was in motion again. With her tail up over her back in a brilliant coruscation of flames, while adrenaline pumped through her throbbing veins she moved off at her trot at a forty-five degree angle from the point of his shoulder, and used the idea that the stallion may very well have been attempting to flee the scene. She’d give him no time. Two strides out the fire mare’s head went down between her knees and the very bulk of her dappled red back and haunches lifted to kiss the ground good bye as they gathered under her and were then propelled with vicious force out towards the smaller, lighter built horse’s body giving the Baroque cross little time to evade and little time to think as they roared to connect somewhere from the point of his shoulder on back through his ribs depending on where he moved and went in regards to his reaction. To shy was possibly to slip, it was also to bring her hooves most likely into connection with the stallion’s first ribs through mid ribs with more emphasis on her right hoof (inside hoof) colliding with the brunt of the force while her left took slightly longer to collide. Bolting forward would result most likely in a collision from mid ribs to stifle region with a heavy emphasis on the sheer possibility of her right hoof punching viciously into the rib-barren soft belly and the unprotected grove between hip bones and rib/barrel while her left hit somewhere in the delicate last few ribs. To rear would be to have her burning hooves smack into unprotected elbow and possibly the right hind hoof hitting the steed’s heart girth in chance. To spin backwards would possibly be welcoming her hooves to elbow, shoulder, scapula, lower neck, a host of painful places. Her goal was to ruin the stallion’s left side, to leave him aching and in pain unable to concentrate or move to his fullest potential…
Regardless the mare’s attacks were over and her body once more touched Earth… However her left knee knuckled over at the impact and the red mare as a whole was sent scrambling for a few uncertain seconds before achieving balance once more in the cold. And she was back on line and back in action with a heavy snort of leery warning at the world blazed on in fury by the every passing second. But now… Now the ball was in Altair’s court as the mare moved away from him with wary blue eyes and her body burning bright.
FIRE III - Warrior - Andarin
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