Posted by brz. ALTAIR on January 26, 2009, 2:37 pm A L T A I R
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Silence, as torpid as the sluggish rising sun, still clung pressingly against the Krieg, clutching the wargrounds deftly by its bosom – the hush a gathering waiting breath for what was to come. Just as unassuming as the dawn, Altair rose. He uncurled his powerful neck, his warm brown eyes assessing the serenity of the surroundings. The day had not even begun, and already he felt the tickling sensation of heat slithering around them. He knew to fight earlier would be wiser; and he knew his opponent would think the same.
He shook with anticipation, adrenaline coursing through his young blood. He felt raw, enlivened – his temperate demeanor shaken with the unassailable conviction of youthful ambition. However, his emotions did not show as he picked up a slow and unrushed canter, savoring the heat of the morning. It was much like his home Ni’Srilan to him, though this did not grant him an immunity to its toiling effects. His canter was powerful, his weight slung across his hocks (perhaps an indication of his practice and skill) – his chest rose and expanded with the deadly potency behind his movement. Each hoof-fall was the sound of wardrums, their echoing clang ringing savagely in the early morning.
He approached Brisingr from head on, his calculating eyes assessing her. His Air shrieked as it recognized the fervor of her fire, recoiling in fear. But no fear ever crossed the stoic stallion’s face, no indication of his weaker element (oh, but he felt it! He felt it scorn his uncaged winds away!) ever graced his sallow complexion. His canter only increased its brutal energy with each earth-eating stride. He flexed his neck, bringing his head towards his chest (to slightly view her better) as the distance between the two shriveled. This was when his powerful haunches came in (his Andalusian ancestry only an advantage) – explosive, strong muscles quivering as he veered slightly to his right (her left) to pass her. But rather than meekly pass her, he prepared his attack before they passed. His savage haunches uncoiled in a brutal assault to her elbow, both hind hooves came screaming like demons out from under him, a double-barreled kick with the intention to incinerate. Perhaps it was a retaliatory blow to her overwhelming fire – in either case, his two deadly hind hooves would cleave flesh and bone alike.
Of course, there is always the factor that Brisingr would not idly stand there and let him viciously break her bones. She could shy (which is surely what she would do) away from the blow, giving his two hind hooves more time to build momentum and verve before crashing relentlessly into her flesh. He chose this area for two reasons – the elbow is soft, surrounded by a thin lacing of muscle. It would be easy to destroy the cap, and even easier to cripple his opponent for life. His powerful hind hooves would (if he hit his mark) brutally shove the bone back, snapping it and likely damaging the suprascapular and infrascapular nerves that laced from the shoulder down to the elbow. The nerves nestled in the elbow would be decimated, and the weak elbow is an incredibly easy bone to fracture. The slightest concussion causes extreme agony and category IV lameness, which is exactly what Altair wanted to bring into her world. Inconceivable pain.
His body shook upon impact, terrible concussion rolling from his body to her own. His hind hooves once more fell to the earth. And then, as a cursory precaution, he let loose another rolling double-barreled kick, his hind hooves hoped to add insult to injury. He would likely hit hindquarter this time, his hind hooves designated to fracture, bruise, destroy whatever they came in contact with. If Brisingr had never tasted the salt of agony, she would become now become familiar with its sting.
His Air loathed the proximity, screamed as it urged him to obliterate the closeness between them. This time he listened, fluidly restoring his previous canter as his hind hooves returned to sweet dirt. His unsettling nonchalance never altered – Altair truly understood the art of impassive war.
He turned, once more using his baroque ancestry to his advantage, executing a neat and tight roll-back as he once more turned to approach his enemy. He was uninjured, his muscles coiling expertly beneath his rough hide. He approached head on once more, his Air cowardly and faltering. He stood defiant as his Air quivered, though he felt the lilting pull, the irresistible strength of her fire. If his first attack and counter went as planned, her left side would be completely rescinded, leaving her his victim. He moved fluidly, measuring his strides, his canter becoming buoyant as the gap between them swiftly diminished.
With a grunt of titanic effort he rose upwards, shoving his momentum forwards as his chest erupted upwards, his weight slung across his haunches. His legs splayed for balance as he performed the levade-like (though keep in mind it is nothing of the sort) maneuver, his front legs extended as he hit the apex of his half-rear, his jagged hooves seeking the mare’s right knee. He sought to land upon her knee during his descent, maximizing the momentum and possible damage. It was a daring move but the effects could be disastrous – having nearly 1,000 pounds of brute force on a small bearing bone would surely destroy it. The knee consists of carpus –two row bones and 3 joints. The first row, from medial to lateral, has four carpals, the radial, intermediate, ulnar and assessory. These bones, hardly bigger than the human thumbnail, would easily be butchered to shattered splints beneath his earth-shattering hooves. The force behind his rendering blow would be enough to burst synovial membrane, destroy ligaments (such as the Stay apparatus) and the collateral tendon, not to mention the arthodial joint that slid behind the knee. The plethora of viable targets meant only one thing – wherever he hit, he was bound to hit pay-dirt. If he hit home, Brisingr would never be able to sleep standing up again, much less walk.
He landed with a heavy grunt, his Air shrieking in indignation at the sheer closeness. He felt her breathing, and all at once he was awash with his excursions, feeling the exhaustion creep ever closer after his tremendous efforts. He pulled himself from her, disentangling her engulfing fire from his own element, cocking an ear, stoic as always, he waited for her chance to shine.
AD ASTRA PER ALIA PORCI.
ALSHAIN x GENESIS || AIR III
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