Blitzkrieg: WE ARE HAPPY LANDFILL [AQUILA]

|| A R T A X X A S ||
When the world has turned;
Paralyzed and wrong..

When Artaxxas’s jagged hoof stepped into Blitzkrieg it was done hesitantly; the broad pad sinking well into the supple earth. An ear was cocked forwards at the perfect weather (save for the blemish of heat), a dark eye was cast about in general trepidation.

She suspected a trap.

Carefully she transitioned into a canter, her haunches coiling powerfully with each stride. Her chest expanded with each step, her muscles and sinew rippling beneath her ivory-grey hide. She slung her weight across her haunches, deftly sitting on her hocks. Her canter was derived from the earth-shattering power of each hoof-fall, her momentum magnified by the exchange of weight and the lightness of her forehand.

She came to Aquila not as an adversary but a fellow warrior – she approached her head to head, her dark eyes aligned with her own, her somber expression indicating her concentration. Two strides before what could be considered collision she altered her stride imperceptibly, slowing it to maximize the power behind her imminent attack. Rather than slow down completely or shorten the distance between her stride(and thus lose precious power, momentum and velocity) she sprung HER weight like a coil from her powerfully designed haunches, as was her birthright. The lightness of her forehand allowed her to deliver her attack with incredible and savage ease. She elevated her stride, her right leg unfurling out from her a transfer of energy, aiming to ruthlessly land upon Aquila’s left knee. As a cursory precaution it was then that her fire erupted, flaming from her mane and tail, a distraction. She would use Aquila’s leg as her barrier – not only would she be slamming violently into the tarsus of her knee (which would hopefully break all the small metacarpals, cause extreme crippling hyperextension and completely annihilate the stay apparatus used when horses sleep standing up) but she would be transferring all of the momentum and velocity from her canter into the blow; much like the swing of the hammer adds to the hammer’s end strike.

Effectively, the downward thrust and the landing upon her knee would cause the leg to bend in the opposite direction it was designed to. (Keep in mind it wasn’t a simple strike, it was a land upon her knee). Which was an excruciating endeavor that would surely cause the eventual ruin of the left leg. It was deadly, bonecrushing attack designed to incorporate extreme agony into Aquila’s world. Artaxxas snorted in a noncommittal gesture, her orange eyes alight with savage amusement as she pulled herself away from the tangle of body and flesh.

With her left knee hopefully annihilated, Aquila would be confronted with the difficulty of evading Artaxxas’ next attack. After landing from her blow she shifted her chest to the left (Aquila’s right), pulling past her, slightly at an angle (their bodies at an acute angle) which would prove useful for Artaxxas’ next attack. Rather than align herself parallel as she passed Aquila (and indeed, it looked as if she were to pass her completely without attacking)s he would utilize the given angle to her advantage, issuing a full-barrel kick with a grunt of effort as she pulled past Aquila’s flank.

The angle of their bodies meant she did not have to wrench her own body to hit Aquila’s. Her hooves, laced with the intensity of her brandishing fire element, sought to plummet cruelly against her barrel as if she were her own personal body-bag. Ribs, muscles and organs would all be put in extreme jeopardy by the attack. Broken ribs were wholly possible, if not fractured – destroyed organs and annihilated muscles easily obtained by the force of her double-barreled kick. The force was titanic, an exertion of Herculean proportions. To evade the bone-shattering kick, Aquila would have to place weight on her hopefully decimated left leg.. which was exactly what Artaxxas had planned. As an added precaution, the second her hind hooves hit earth she unleashed another brutal double-barreled assault, a vicious combo designated to finish what the first attack hadn’t.

Remorselessly her hind legs once more returned under her body. The heat seeped deep into her skin, a slick and heavy layer of sweat glistening across her black coat. She resumed her previous canter, deftly circling around her as she waited for her to deal her vengeance.

Waiting to pick up the pieces
That make it out all right.
But pieces of what? Pieces of what?
Pieces of what doesn't matter anymore..