Acton Again a jolt as body met body, there in the evening falling quickly to night. This time there was no grin when Acton felt his hooves connect; he only waited for the smaller stallion to follow him. When after several heartbeats he did not, the buckskin half-turned, ears twisting forward and skin twitching, wary. By now any watchers were forgotten, and sweat slicked his sides in the warm summer air. The battlefield was little more than a mass of shadows and for a moment the only thing Acton could hear was both their labored breathing. He opened his mouth, licked his teeth, prepared to call an insult – And then the world began to tremble. He could not fully see the clods of dirt and rock as they rose from the ground, but he could hear the rattle of stones, and Acton stomped and huffed a breath, ears pinning. Before his mind entirely grasped what was happening, pieces of the battleground flung themselves for him. First a pebble struck him, then a clump of sod, and he only had time to drop his head and hunch his shoulders like a bull against a snowstorm before the whole lot was on him, showering him in dirt and stones. With his telepathy he blocked what he could, but with his sight limited by the darkness his efforts were mostly futile. It was like standing beneath a hailstorm, and then it finished as quickly as it had begun, and the world felt even more silent than before. When he was sure it was over, Acton shook himself like a dog and straightened, groaning at the all-over ache. His skin felt broken in a few places - scrapes from the rocks - and he felt dirty and dappled by bruises. Still, there was a bit of a swagger when he made his way back over to the Warden, and his scowl was replaced by a grin as he shook his head. When he saw Rosti's bloody cheek, his grin widened. “I’m used to fights starting with things being thrown, not ending with them,” he said, and laughed. “And I think I’m ready to go back to being just a street bastard.” |
Summary: Acton starts to turn toward Rosti when he doesn't hear him coming, then gets showered in dirt. He hunches his shoulders and lowers his head against it, and uses his limited telepathy to try to stop some of the dirt clods (counting as a block, not sure if it does).
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1?
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: NA
Response Deadline: NA
Tags: @Rostislav, @
