and all their words for glory

well they always sounded empty

In the weeks since his arrival, Ulric had scarce allowed Delumine’s grand citadel out of his sight. New as he was, he had fallen into the role of a dutiful, vigilant warrior with ease, doing all that he could to assure the Dawn Court and its denizen’s continued safety. Yet as reluctant as the roan was to leave the land of the rising sun, one could not rightfully call themselves protector if they knew nothing of the areas beyond their own territory. What was it like in Solterra, Denocte and Tellasterra? Should their own warriors ever forge an attack against Delumine, what would be their weaknesses, their strengths, and how could they all be used against them?


It was with these thoughts that Ulric left the peaceful territory behind him with a promise to return in several days’ time. First, he had waded through a relatively calm section of the Rapax River, then made his way through the narrow passage between the Amare Creek and the base of the Veneror Peaks, taking in the remarkable landscape and making note of any heavily traveled paths that he could see, if any.


Eventually, the day was beginning to wind down and come to an end, the moon chasing the blistering sun from the sky in its stead. The place he now found himself in wasn’t unlike Delumine itself, save for the mountains that bordered it; the vast sky above was littered with bright stars, their soft light cast across the flat prairie that seemed to stretch for miles. Ulric had every intention on finding somewhere to catch a few hours worth of rest, for while his journey had been rather slow paced, he would need it to continue even further into Novus the following day. But before the silvered stallion could get far in his search for a spot that was just right, his ears twitched towards the furious sound of wings pumping in the distance.


’Come out, come out, wherever you are.’


He can’t place the voice, but curiosity fuels his feet into moving closer before he’s even given thought into it. In the distance he sees a proud looking mare, standing tall in an area that seems devoid of much plant life. Whatever is there has been beaten down, presumably by the countless battles that must have been waged here if the pungent aroma of blood and sweat finally hits him like a ton of bricks. Was this an arena for fighting, out in the middle of seemingly nowhere?


The mere thought of a spar is invigorating and chases away his mental exhaustion for the time being. He draws nearer until he steps foot onto the borderless arena, gilded eyes sweeping over his opponent and drinking in her features. She stands taller than him as most do, and while sporting an impressive, muscular physique, she isn’t as broad as Ulric himself. He surmised that they would probably be close in agility, but the roan knew better than to assume that it was anything more than that – an assumption.


Coming to a brief halt, Ulric dips his head in a customary greeting. Even if they aren’t from the same Courts and have never met, they have the same blood pulsing through their veins; that of a warrior, and that alone is enough to warrant respect for the silvered bay.


Only a moment passes from then before the roan moves. Ebony legs reach as far as they can to cover the distance between them, hooves barely striking the ground as he moves. As he goes, he becomes increasingly aware of the various holes that litter what he had once thought to be solid ground and does his best to remain aware of where each and every hoof thrums against the earth. As he rushes towards her, he directs himself to her right side, keeping his wings tucked tightly against his mottled sides. Just before he reaches her shoulder Ulric begins to put on the brakes, haunches tucking beneath him and then lifting him into an angled rear. His front hooves lash out with intent to pound against her back, and while he has no intentions of going easy on the mare, he is careful not to strike the delicate scapula of her wing.


"Sup"

and all their words for glory

well they always sounded empty

She is unmoving as he thunders on ever closer, standing stock still even as he reaches her right side and rises up. It proves to be a mistake on her part, as his hooves strike out and successfully make contact with her back.


A cry rips itself from her throat at that moment, primal and furious as it echoes across the barren steppe and burrows into his pinned ears. Just as gravity begins to bring him back down to earth, the obsidian warrior outstretches her wings, and for a moment Ulric expects her to take flight - in which case, he would be completely and utterly screwed - but she doesn't.


Her intention may be to smack the feathered appendage into his legs, and it does, striking the area just above his right gaskin and instinctively causing him to jerk his leg up in an awkward motion as his weight comes bearing back down to earth - but it does not have the desired effect. It was more an uncomfortable feeling than a painful one, but perhaps later it will bruise, the ghost of a memory of their battle.


But as Ulric brings his right leg back down to steady himself and his front feet finally grace the uneven ground beneath them, he pushes against it with his front legs to swing his front half to the right, closer to Aislinn's head, and aims to step on the very tip of her right wing with his left front hoof. A warrior he may be, willing to do whatever it took to protect hearth and home, but he would not unjustly go out of his way to truly damage another's wings - never the wings.


From there, hoping to have pinned the wing down, the roan swings his rear around closer to his temporary foe, dropping his head as he kicks out towards her hopefully more exposed, tender flank.


"Holla"

and all their words for glory

well they always sounded empty

Not only does his attempt to foley any further lashings from her wings fail, but as his hooves rise up and strike out with considerable force, he's left with the distressing realization that he hits absolutely nothing but the space where Aislinn had been only moments prior.


Gritting his teeth, the roan warrior tries to scramble forward and out of the way just as his hooves return once more to the earth, but by then it is too late. As balanced and sturdy a creature as he was, the force of the mare's attack throws him off balance, struggling to keep himself upright as his front feet pedal, desperately trying to avoid one of the many vermin holes that dotted their battleground. In the end, his feet splay out before him, only narrowly avoiding one of his legs disappearing into a nearby hole.


The pain he feels is instantaneous despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. It burns, radiating from the middle of his left shoulder all the way up to his withers and stemming down towards his elbow, causing him to inhale sharply as he straightens back up with an inward hiss. Perhaps it isn't the worst that he could suffer, but the blow upsets him deeply regardless; to lose ones balance in the midst of battle could spell disaster, especially if his attacker managed to get the upper hand even further by knocking him completely to the ground. How could he have allowed himself to be so sloppy, so foolish and brazen?


Already he knows the journey home will be considerably longer than what it had taken to get here, and though the victor was yet to be decided, Ulric could at least be satisfied knowing that he wouldn't be returning back to Delumine empty handed.


Raising his head and craning it towards his lithe opponent, he once again dips his head towards her. The fight is over, although much too soon in his eyes... even if his shoulder screamed in protest against the notion.


"Holla"


ooc - I'm so sorry for this post, my dear! I thought I had another day left and didn't realize that that wasn't the case until I was settling down for bed <___<'''