 DAMASCUS HEAVY LIES THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN
"Being here by now should being of Arluins..." Damascus grunted as he swivelled upon his haunches, tossing his nose in the opposite direction in an annoyed, leg-wobbling fit of pure uncertainty. This was his big day! He was to train with the other warriors! ....And that other warrior was no where to be seen. All the huffing and dramatic hooting to the wind would not bring Arluin any closer, so it was when Damascus came to assume that the stag had forgotten their engagement that the overgrown child began to amble away through the sea of grass that carpeted the steppe, hooves taking him back in the direction of home. Dohv gave a happy, lucky and relieved sigh - no fighting would be endured, or so he thought. The glimpse of white among the grey autumnal landscape, standing out as pristine and bloodied among the otherwise lifeless sky. So he hadn't forgotten. Damascus stopped, legs wide and ready for what could come next; an attack of magic? From a bonded? He'd heard about what birds and snakes could be ordered to do. Though as he waited and watched, the more he wondered if he was invited to make the first move. "Late be you Arluin!" Damascus cheered across the warflogged earth, tearing his own piece of the turf away with his monolithic offside hoof. It was with this declaration that he begun his march forward, back arching with his wings to gain momentum. With the weight of his tail keeping him from harnessing little more movement than a bowling canter, Damascus certainly was no pillar of agility like his vermillion opponent - an advantage the over-sized brute did have, however, was his brute strength and a pair of boundless wings. To make up for his lack of slinking and slicing across the earth, Damascus would made do with the little amount of surprise he could conjure - a simple beat of his wings, beckoning dirt, grass and other earthly debris into the eyes of his nemesis until he struck left, hopefully under the cover of a blind and fumbling Arluin, to rise and strike. The tail end of Damascus was unlikely to ever lift far off the ground during a fight given his monolithic tail - his front end, however, was a different fable altogether. With a swipe of his jaws the primal stag aimed a well-aimed, jagged kiss toward the alabaster's whither, aiming every incisor over the crest of the man's back and hoping for damage and blood. The bite was swift but likely nasty should Arluin have taken it's damage, and as Damascus retreated to the left once more, taking care to avoid each one of his enemy's hooves, he hoped to Vespera that he had found purchase in his flesh.
Summary: Damascus complains a bit then spots Arluin, runs up to him and attempts to beat dirt into his eyes, then attmepts to bite him on the whither and runs to the left. Attack Used: 1 Attack(s) Left: 1 Block Used: 0 Block(s) Left: 1 Item(s) Used: -- |
Fight: Judged - target practise II
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target practise II - by Damascus - 10-11-2017, 09:49 AM
RE: target practise II - by Arluin - 10-17-2017, 06:48 PM
RE: target practise II - by inkbone - 10-27-2017, 07:31 PM
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