Posted by Slv. Voraer on January 31, 2009, 1:30 am Like a bullet Voraer exploded from the confines of the desert, a spray of sand kicked up in his wake mixed in with the ash that tumbled free of Voraer’s body with every ground-eating stride. It was a flat out run, his body extending and flying across the ground, his muscles heating with his fire and the energy of the exertion. He didn’t need to run to warm his muscles any more, not with his internal fires, but it was Voraer; battles to him was like the release date of a new video game for a kid, he was running and he was trampling any idiot in his way.
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He slowed as the harder turf of the Krieg came beneath his hooves. It was an immediate shift in weather as the winds twirled and danced about him; his fire gorged on them, fuming inside his veins and feeding the furnace of his Dragon’s Breath. But he dropped his blazed Muzzle closer to his chest, eyelids fluttering and squinting over his gray eyes to try and shield them from the whirlwind of debris. He was moving at a steady trot now, scoping the area for his fellow red viper and fire monger, though Alerion had a bit of electric flare. There. Voraer saw him prowling the Krieg, searching as well. His lips simpered, crania dropping as he slunk forward at a quicker tempo, mane lashing like living copper snakes against his nape. The wind would hinder him, Voraer had always relied on his hearing in battle, he cursed under his breath.
Moving directly towards the bronze warrior now Voraer was coming in on his left, angling towards his head and shoulder region, indirectly coming more from behind (though he was not close to Alerion’s hindquarters). Voraer was direct in his movements, loud and bold and aggressive. He set to work immediately, slowing only as the stallions were about to collide to grab Alerion’s attention. There was no obvious display he would not stop, it was merely a quick direct approach; he hoped Alerion wouldn’t shy away like some pussy but instead face him, though perhaps surprised to find Voraer so close, unable to hear over the wind’s roar. Lips peeled back as ears faded beneath his sea of mane, and Voraer lunged with his exposed teeth towards Alerion’s left nostril, rising slightly as his homosexual opponent was taller than him. It was an easy target for Alerion to swing away, but it was one of the easier areas on the face to get a grip of, and being so tender and vital to, well breathing, it was easier to crush and cripple the opponent. But even if he didn’t grab Alerion’s muzzle, he was going for the effect of the attack. Voraer was riding on the idea Alerion would jerk his head to the right, away from the oncoming teeth, away from Voraer, putting his weight more on his right hand which loosened the left side, left the left side exposed. As Voraer rose and tried to bite he used a combo and drove down with his two front feet towards Alerion’s left knee. It was not a full fledged rear Voraer committed too, that would take too much time, even if it would increase his attack power. It was a brief pop off the earth, allowing Voraer to lift his front feet higher then Alerion’s knee and then pounce towards it quickly.
The earth rung beneath Voraer as he landed, and as the wind shifted he was forced to turn his head to the right quickly, his body following the lead of his cranium as it too turned to the right, so that he now faced Alerion’s rump bur remained on his left side (unless Alerion at some point twirled around in those brief moments, in which case Voraer would circle into said position). Now the wind gusted up Voraer’s back, allowing him to see once more, though his tangled, twisted mane was sloppily tossed across his curled neck and hung above his eyes in a heap. His fire roared at the feel of the wind, clawing, desperate to eat away at the enemy and burst free of Voraer’s insides to consume the world around him. The stallion fed off its driving force, its violent energy. It excited him, pushed him faster. As he spun to the right Voraer surged forward into a trot, moving only a stride before dropping his head beneath his limbs, curling his hind legs tight to his sexy ass, and then he let those pretty heels fly. It was a high and hard buck, aimed at Alerion’s ribs (high aim rather than low, belly area), the very start of them past the fore arm. Voraer’s aim was not the greatest due to his quick demand for the action after just changing direction. But it was necessary, he didn’t want Alerion running off now, Voraer liked fighting close; which would hinder his power. But that’s why he aimed high, so he could collect more extension and more power.
Whether he connected or not gravity demanded he return to all four legs, he could only comply. As his back feet sunk back to the soil, his fire raging through them with its excited hunger for contact, Voraer made to turn on his haunches to his right. He had to remain standing to do this, he had to let his rear end land, then shift back onto it so his forehand was free to turn the 90 degrees to angle away from Alerion. But Voraer’s breed was agile, though Voraer was moving back into the wind, so that it now buffeted the right side of his face. Once finished turning he made to start trotting forward, perpendicular now to Alerion.
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