Blitzkrieg: LORD'S GOING TO GET US BACK [VORAER]

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity -- must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions -- not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.
"Female of the Species" - Rudyard Kipling (1911)

The footing, slick beneath her jagged hooves, only slightly worried the black mare as she approached Blitzkrieg at a coiled canter. She manipulated the footing to her suited pleasure; each hoof fell on soft, supple (and notably unslippery) earth with a resplendent thud.

She moved fluidly, her hoof-falls sounding through Blitzkrieg like war-drums. A sheen of fine mist coated her rippling coat as she cantered buoyantly towards her adversary.

The rolling fog limited vision, but her Earth whispered her adversary’s location to her. She tucked her head, her already gaited canter elevating with each ground-devouring stride. Her haunches tucked neatly under her for maximum exploitation of her supreme lightness of the forehand (a lightness of the forehand equates to swifter, stronger attacks).

Voraer would see her.

Oh, he would hear her - - her Earth roaring like some primitive monster as she bore down upon him. Her cold, calculating eyes watched the fire-stallion, scrutinizing his gait for any discrepancy, any old injury as she approached head-to-head. At first, it looked as if she were going to barrel right into him without stopping - - her savage conviction was unsettling. Two mere strides before collision the mare altered her stride slightly, her buoyant canter slowed to maximize the power behind her attack. Rather than slow down or shorten the distance of her stride (and thus lose precious power, momentum and velocity) she sprung from her coiled, powerful haunches. Her mastery of the lightness of the forehand would allow her to deliver her attack with deadly, savage ease (and accuracy). She elevated her stride, her legs unfurling out from her a transfer of energy, aiming to ruthlessly land upon Voraer’s left knee. She would use Voraer’s leg as her barrier as she slammed into him – not only would she be slamming violently into the tarsus of his 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; like a wrecking ball, her rock hooves would obliterate whatever was beneath them.

Effectively, the downward thrust and the landing upon Voraer’s knee would cause the leg to bend in the opposite direction it was designed to. (Keep in mind her attack wasn’t just a strike, it was a land upon the knee). The knee, with several rows of small metacarpals no bigger than the human thumb, would be subject to total annihilation if Legend’s strike went home. In a brutal combo, the mare dragged her rock hooves down his leg like fingernails on a chalk-board, hopefully scraping flesh and tendon from his leg like butter (the rock’s harsh surface would hopefully assist her in that endeavor). Legend sneered derisively as she executed her first attack, disentangling herself from the other with a haughty snort after the completion.

Legend knew that with Voraer’s use of his left knee hopefully eradicated, he would be confronted with difficulty of evading her next attack. After landing from her blow, she shifted to the left (Voraer’s right), pulling past him at a slight angle which would assist Legend greatly in her next attack. Instead of aligning herself parallel with the stallion as she passed (and for a split second it looked as if the mare would pass without striking), she took advantage of the slight angle, her haunches coiling powerfully as she issued a full-barreled double-kick towards his barrel.

The acute angle of their bodies meant the mare did not have to wrench her body to kick out (which would have lessened the potential power). Her savage, rock hard hooves sought to plummet ruthlessly against the other’s heaving barrel. Ribs, muscles and organs would all be put in extreme jeopardy by the attack. Broken ribs would be the least of his problems – destroyed organs and annihilated muscles (such as the Obliques, which aid in breathing) could easily be incurred by her savage kick. The force was titanic, an exertion of Herculean proportions. To evade the bone-shattering kick, Voraer would have to place weight on his hopefully decimated left leg.. which was exactly what the clever pony had planned.

Gravity called, and meekly (who would Legend be to disobey?) she acquiesced to its demands, her rock hooves returning to the earth with an earth-shattering thump. A slight acidic twinge rushed up her haunch as she continued her canter - - and for a few strides her steps were short as she combated the minor pain that crept up her hind leg. The colossal force heaved into her last attack had likely caused her to pull something, but – as the champions say, no pain, no gain.

Remorse is for the dead, my enemy.

L E G E N D
o green world, don't desert me now