WE'LL FIGHT TILL WE'RE BROKEN

*Taurig* · 11-21-2013, 04:03 AM

The drum inside of his chest was pounding to a steady beat, pushing his life force through the multiple veins that coursed through his powerful body. He could feel the crimson liquid pulsing beneath his cobalt hide, beginning to thrum with a quiet hum. Adrenaline began to course through his larger mass as he stared at the cherry eyes of his once sire. The man who was now looking to force his precious life's blood from his veins until it coated the earth and was emptied from his veins. This bastard didn't deserve the title of father. He was a sire, the male who provided his half of the genetic equation. Not a father. Fathers, real fathers, didn't do this to their children, no matter what they did. Parents were supposed to love their offspring, their own flesh and blood unconditionally. They weren't supposed to want to end their lives; unless it was for their own good, to put them out of their misery. And this was more certainly not the case. There was nothing wrong with Taurig. He wasn't suffering. The one that was wrong was Isardis. He and his insatiable pride; it was a sickness really. An incurable sickness. One that pointed the pale ghost the longer he was breathing. Perhaps it was he that needed to be put out of his misery.

The cobalt Re would not be alone that day. Though his gaze remained riveted to the cherry ghost, he would catch the distinctive paw steps of someone approaching, followed by an all too familiar voice; Sibelle. His baby sister had come to witness his possible demise. How he wished to chase from the very spot she stood at; she didn't need to see him get torn to pieces or worse. She was better off finding Falk and sticking to him. God Falk, he hoped that his brother didn't show up either. The young boy seemed to idolize his darker brother and to see Taurig fall at the jaws of their own sire would surely leave a horrible lasting impression on the young man. He would say nothing to his russet sister, neither turn towards her or say anything to her; his body would remain as still as statue. The only clues to him being real were the gentle expanding and contracting of chest and the blinking of his thick lashes. Not long after his sister made her appearance, another familiar figure would come into his sights, though on the side of Isardis; Seraphine. His friend. It had been quite some time since he had seen the scarred young woman. The last time he had seen her, she had been present when Isardis had given him the scars he now sported. And now she was here again, to possibly see him loose his life. Ever the respectful one, she would seat herself far from the pale King, not wanting to intrude despite knowing that she was always welcome. Pass Seraphine. Stay out of harms way. Would come his booming voice, his gaze never wavering from Isardis. But she wouldn't be the last to arrive.

The slate blue figure of his aunt Abelinda would also appear on the opposite side of his border, coming to stand near Isardis, as if to support him. No offense was taken to her decision; her barely knew her anyways. Allowing his complete attention to become focused on the Pale King, he would watch as the man settled into his own defenses before launching himself forward; his intent was clear. He wanted to ram his left shoulder into Taurig's left. And he would get that; just not the way he planned it. Haunches would bunch together before an explosion of tension would push the titan forward, forelimbs extending as talons dug into the soil to pull him forward. Crown would lower towards his chin to become parallel to his spine, ears flattened against his skull. Eyes would become icy slits, hackles bristling as his shoulders rolled forward to scrunch the loose skin forward to bunch around the nape of his neck. Knees would bend slightly to lower his center of gravity, all four limbs equally spaced out, toes splayed wide for balance, talons breaching the soil for traction, plume held in alignement with his spine. Frame would remain tense in preparation for the impact.

His aim was low, a bit lower than what Isardis was aiming for. Skull would be slightly turned towards the right just like the pale King's left shoulder blade jutting to use as battering ram in order to inflict the worst possible bruising and disorientation. As the moment of impact came Taurig would allow the front of his body to dip downwards ever so slightly, allowing the the full contact to take place, the ghosts' shoulder blade ramming higher than his intended goal, ramming his actual shoulder than chest. The impact would spread outwards from his shoulder, rippling through his mass but the Re wasn't done there. As soon as his shoulder made contact, the man would use his forward momentum to throw it back at Isardis as his forelimbs pushed his upper half upwards, making his ramming motion travel upwards, making it one fluid arch, hoping that the upward momentum would push the Ice King back and shake his footing. Shoulders would remained scrunched forward, crown still titled down over his vitals. It was then that the pale man would snake his head forward, looking to sink his fangs into the muscles lining his spine. But he wouldn't get the complete satisfaction. Using the rising momentum of his upward ram, the cobalt titan would lift his left forelimb up, forepaw folded forward so that his ankle was protruding, hoping to powerfully ram his ankle straight into Isardis' vulnerable trachea and stun him, possibly leaving severe bruising. But Taurig wouldn't escape completely unscathed. If it was his attack were to work, it would offset the attack on his spine, allowing the lower canines of his opponent to graze the flesh lining his the left side of his spine, leaving behind some shallow gauges along the flesh lining his spine, essentially throwing off the man's grasp towards his scruff.

Regardless if the hit with his left leg would work or not, the titan would drop down once more, left forepaw aiming to smash down hard against Isardis' right forepaw and possibly crush all his toes. In this same movement the blue titan's skull would arch back towards his left, knees bending as his frame crouched down, tail sweeping to the right to act as a counterweight, jaws agape as they looked to snap over the Ice King's left forelimb, just bellow his golden bands. Were his jaws to reach their designed goal, they would come down with crushing force, with the intent to break or fracture, as a violent jerk would follow the crushing bite, aiming to dislocate the limb if his bite were to fail in its power. He wanted to make the Ice King bow so he could rip away his precious jewels and rid the world of his poison. Eyes would remain slit, ears tucked completely flat against his skull, shoulders rolled forward, hackles raised, tail in alignment with his spine though swept to the right for a counterweight, remaining three limbs evenly spread out beneath him, weight equally distributed across splayed toes, talons sinking into the soil for better traction, muscles taut.

Taurig vs. Isardis for complete blinding and complete castration

Round 1 of 3

Attack:As soon as his shoulder made contact, the man would use his forward momentum to throw it back at Isardis as his forelimbs pushed his upper half upwards, making his ramming motion travel upwards, making it one fluid arch, hoping that the upward momentum would push the Ice King back and shake his footing. Using the rising momentum of his upward ram, the cobalt titan would lift his left forelimb up, forepaw folded forward so that his ankle was protruding, hoping to powerfully ram his ankle straight into Isardis' vulnerable trachea and stun him, possibly leaving severe bruising. the titan would drop down once more, left forepaw aiming to smash down hard against Isardis' right forepaw and possibly crush all his toes. In this same movement the blue titan's skull would arch back towards his left, knees bending as his frame crouched down, tail sweeping to the right to act as a counterweight, jaws agape as they looked to snap over the Ice King's left forelimb, just bellow his golden bands. Were his jaws to reach their designed goal, they would come down with crushing force, with the intent to break or fracture, as a violent jerk would follow the crushing bite, aiming to dislocate the limb if his bite were to fail in its power.

Defense: Crown would lower towards his chin to become parallel to his spine, ears flattened against his skull. Eyes would become icy slits, hackles bristling as his shoulders rolled forward to scrunch the loose skin forward to bunch around the nape of his neck. Knees would bend slightly to lower his center of gravity, all four limbs equally spaced out, toes splayed wide for balance, talons breaching the soil for traction, plume held in alignment with his spine. Frame would remain tense in preparation for the impact.

Injuries: Bruising to his left shoulder, gauges across the left side of his spine

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