SO THE PART WHERE WE ARE
The assault went poorly, Toro's horns swiping air as Raymond spun backwards. The momentum sent him reeling forward, but not unharmed; sharp pain struck his system like lightning, Raymond's hoof colliding with his ribcage. Something cracked and he saw a starburst, sheer pain blinding him for a moment. There was a vague sensation of paper crinkling. The force of the air from his lungs rushed through his nose, a small spray of blood speckling his muzzle with scarlet. He skittered sideways, struggling to regain balance, distance widening as Raymond trotted around and he kept going backwards, backwards. He tried to breathe and the pain went through him again, less this time, but he couldn't get all the air in and out like he could before, and was left wheezing, blood trickling into his mouth and onto the dirt. Toro was first to wet the ground.
Raymond was a few feet away now, bladed tail poised above his head like some mutant scorpion, ready to maim. It seemed there was little he could do now, anything from this distance would be choreographed. Raymond would have time to see, to dodge, hell, he'd have time to think between that if he wanted. The white stallion winced with every breath. He wasn't even sure he could work up a good charge, blood coming out his nose and all. Slowly, El Toro shifted into motion, no more than a child's breath from his nostrils, blood bubbling and sputtering. Moving now hurt more than squeezing the air in and out; his ribs felt rent apart and if he wasn't careful his heart was next. His eyes burned something hellish, glittering in the morning light as the bull slowly arced around Raymond, going no closer. As he reached the furthest point of the semicircle he tensed, gaze never leaving the red stallion. He had a good limp going now. His eyes were still; gone was the twitching of rage built up over days, now there was only focus and the ache of broken bones, soft organs splitting open every breath drawn in and released. Toro dripped rubies. The soil should have thanked him.
The pounding in his head lessened as he stood there, muscles relaxing again as his blood pressure went down with the dwindling oxygen in his veins. He couldn't charge from here. He was asking for death, then. A very faint thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he was asking for death when he stepped into this arena, or even earlier when he asked to see "Plan B." He snorted, blood splattering ground from a misfired spraycan. Toro moved forward, steps sure but muscles trembling, stopping again just out of range of Raymond's blade. The pale stallion inhaled as much as he could, springing into motion on the turn of a dime, again, head carried low, horns and forehead gunning for Raymond's left flank. It was all he knew to do. He'd get fileted, he was certain, but if he got a shot in, just one... Maybe it would mean something.
"What I say,"
What I think,
Summary: Toro is hit in the ribs by Raymond's kick, cracking a rib and puncturing his lung. He reels backwards and regains his balance. Blood comes out of his nose and he struggles to breathe, only one lung functioning. Toro walks in a partial arc around Raymond, stopping at its furthest point. He tenses, then relaxes. Toro walks to Raymond and stops just out of reach of Raymond's tail. Toro springs forward and charges at Raymond's left flank.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: n/a
Response Deadline: 7/21/18
Tags: @Raymond, @
