Posted by slv kivioq on January 20, 2009, 10:20 pm, in reply to "While holding his breath half to death; Part II" * “Mature.” If someone had implied that Kivioq could ever become wiser with age, he would have likely peed himself with laughter. Maturity was not something that Kivioq agreed with, despite the fact that he believed himself as wise as an oracle and as well conditioned as a gold. Though his skills had improved and his outlook changed, Kivioq was no less of a teenager than when he had first approached Blitzkrieg at the beginning of last winter.
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Strandwolf was the third viper that Kivioq would fight, and the third silver (though this time, Kivioq sported a title that matched his opponent). He had the same scent as Ahriman and Voraer, yet as Kivioq drew closer he began to shiver in disgust. The water that moved so proudly through his veins began to clench and stab, sending light tingles of pain across his caramel skin. Finally it dawned on him—for every element there was indeed a weakness, and he had at last met his. The lightening that coursed through Strandwolf’s flesh was perhaps a more terrifying opponent than Strandwolf himself, and in a way Kivioq felt as though he were fighting two entities at once. Strandwolf would have been a worthy opponent on his own—in combination with the electricity, Kivioq began to shake in his skin.
Being young and, as of now undefeated, it made sense to Kivioq that he should put on a brave face and shove forward; after all, even lightning must have a weakness, right? But it didn’t occur to him that lightning’s only weakness was earth, and even if it had there would be nothing in Kivioq’s power to harness the earth’s power. So as he moved at a ground-engulfing pace, Kivioq was surprised when Strandwolf spoke, rather than attacked. The words were strange to him, but as he became aware of the dangerously calm smile on Strandwolf’s lips it was apparent that he had miscalculated.
Within the next second, it felt to Kivioq as if the world was ripping open at the seams.
At first, all he was aware of was pain. First, there was pain in his muscles, the sting of electric shocks as the electrons were stretched from their atoms, the molecules straining to hold themselves together. His head throbbed, his brain incapable of thought. He didn’t know whether he was moving or still, standing or sitting—it really didn’t matter, for either way he was surely dead. This pain, it insurmountable. All that Kivioq could do was open his eyes…
As the darkness became light, Kivioq could see the vague forms of life that had at one point seemed quite distinct. It was almost comical, the way the edges of the shapes became dusty halos around the objects they were meant to enclose. Things moved in slow motion, yet try as he might he couldn’t keep up; he saw doubles, and from one eye he could see himself evading Strandwolf’s attack—from the other, he was struck full-on.
It was then that he became aware of a third being, poised between himself and the desert stallion. He could barely make out its shape—Alphamagnetism still had control over his body, after all—and as he tried to focus his eyes he felt the bile rise in his throat. But it was unmistakable: between himself and the viper was a wolf, snarling and spitting and, somehow, made entirely of water. Unda Morsus, as of yet unknown to Kivioq, had chosen to present itself in the most convenient of times.
Kivioq opened his mouth to scream, to tell the thing to run. Yet it stood its ground, bracing its legs and baring its death despite the fact that it was certain to be destroyed. Kivioq could not understand such bravery, not when he could feel his body being ripped to shreds. But somehow he continued to watch, to hold witness as the thing was torn apart by Strandwolf’s descending hoof. The beast shrieked in agony, the water spraying from the place of impact as it was murdered on the spot. It pooled on the ground, glowing toxic blue for a moment before being engulfed by the earth. Kivioq was alone with Strandwolf once more.
As Strandwolf continued his attack (using combo so eagerly), Kivioq could feel his senses returning. As he attempted to react, he moved as though waking up from a deep sleep. He staggered into a rear, his vision slowly clearing as he struggled to keep his weight steady. He made it less than a foot off the ground, but it was enough—as Strandwolf struck again, Kivioq’s raised leg could absorb the blow with less strain than if it had been placed squarely on the ground.
Being struck was like awaking from a nightmare, and suddenly the world held eerie clarity. Strandwolf’s image was now crisp and clean, almost as vivid as the blood that now poured from Kivioq’s leg. Strandwolf had sliced the inside of Kivioq’s cannon bone, damaging the skin and tendons rather than the semi-fragile bone. Rather than landing, he clenched his teeth and let Strandwolf hit the ground first. As the smaller stallion’s hooves came in contact with the ground, Kivioq struck out with his uninjured right leg for the viper’s cannon bone and pastern—his counter put to use. He would have aimed higher, but his rear had been low to begin with. Such a target was all he could achieve, even with the unscathed leg.
As Strandwolf sprung for Kivioq’s hind end, Kivioq heard a second phrase uttered. The wolf-stallion was haughty, but never stupid: he held his breath and braced his legs as he heard the viper’s voice, expecting something equal in pain and suffering to Alphamagnetism. Strandwolf didn’t disappoint, and for a second time Kivioq found himself fading from consciousness, this time losing his balance as the earth beneath him bucked like the waves of Solira. Kivioq, hesitant to take a false step in an attempt to balance himself, let his legs buckle as he fell to his knees (his forelegs were then tucked underneath his chest). At the very least his lower legs would be more protected, forcing Strandwolf to instead attack the larger muscles of his forearm or shoulder.
As dictated, Kivioq was defenseless; Strandwolf’s merciless hoof caught the muscle of his right forearm, gouging at the skin and leaving the muscle torn and exposed. Instantly Kivioq was struggling to his feet, howling in pain like the wolf that had just perished before him. But here is where the distinction is made: unlike the wolf, Kivioq would live to pay Strandwolf retribution for his suffering.
He planned to avenge the slain canine, injured or not.
--sergeant of andarin--
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