Battle School: i guess this is it;; REQUIEM

This was a lot different from his last battle, and hopefully, will end up more beneficial.

Centurion entered the schooling grounds at a slow trot, warming his muscles up for the battle, keeping them limber without using too much energy. His teacher de jour stood in the middle of the grounds, black coat evident against the soft meadow. The footing was sure enough, not exactly Centurion’s preference, after all, even the best of us slip on grass sometimes. Circling around slowly, Centurion comes at his teacher head on, bearing slightly to the right. Were you to take an aerial shot of their positions, I suppose our buckskinned wonder would be bearing about 5^o towards Requiem’s right shoulder. As he gets closer, Centurion’s pace increases, slowly becoming a canter as he gets closer. When a head on collision seems eminent, he bolts left instead of continuing toward the right, moving into an increased angle, positioning himself roughly 50^o from the black. When his shoulder is roughly level with Requiem’s rump –remember, we’re on an angle here-, Centurion breaks stride, thrusting his hind end into the air, his powerful hind legs driving towards his opponent’s barrel. Given his height advantage –though its minimal here- and the length of his legs, he hopes to strike about the middle on the curve of the barrel. If his opponent were to move, forward, backward or even to the right, away from the blow, he would land somewhere close to target and with enough force to at the least wind the black stallion, at the most, crack or break a rib, greatly decreasing manoeuvrability for the rest of the battle.

Of course, this takes seconds, probably close to ten or fifteen if you want to get into the nitty gritty, and then the roan is off again. He had tucked his head away and towards his own right, shielding it from a retaliation kick that could be delivered. Pulling his hind legs in quickly, he pushes off powerfully, he resumes a canter as he moves left, almost 180^o, coming up on Requiem’s right side. Bringing himself to a more moderate pace, he manoeuvres himself with and around the other stallion, until he is closer to the opponent’s forehand. Half-rearing, so as not to lose too much ground as the other invariably moves- he aims two plate-sized hooves at Requiem’s right knee. He hopes, with the last blow, the black will be too winded and sore to moving at any great speed, or wanting to move at any great speed that is. Surely not fast enough for Centurion to completely miss his mark. At best, Centurion hopes for a mangled knee joint, at the worst, a severely skinned and bruised cannon bone, both harmful enough to handicap the black’s attacks for the remainder of the battle.

His attacks placed –and hopefully, well landed- Centurion spins off from the other stallion, picking up his circling trot, eyeing the teacher carefully, and waiting for some kind of retaliation.

CENTURION;;
earth I