Take a BITE of my heart
08-17-2015, 10:39 AM
The raid against Threar - and his undeniable loss - had ignited a fire in his heart once again. He was not disappointed in himself, no, and yet he knew the gods wished him to win time and time again. Only with practice would he truly refine his skills and prove that he was a force to be reckoned with.
He traveled down from the more northern lands toward the Battlefield. He was familiar with this place. Green eyes would scan the terrain as he walked, his gait strong and certain despite the slight limp he was perpetually burdened with from his mangled hind paw. This place, in all its foul glory, was quite intriguing, and the scent of blood and death that permeated his nose was exhilarating rather than nauseating. Already he could feel adrenaline pounding in his chest, the hollow whirl of the blood rushing to his head echoing between his ears.
The scent of a pair of wolves quickly caught his attention. His body tensed, slinking low to the ground as the small stub of a tail he had left twitching in anticipation behind him. When he spotted them, he crept forward slowly, a grin spreading on his lips. Perhaps he could ambush one of them, since - by their postures - they were here waiting for a fight. At the very least, it would keep things interesting..
Coming from about a fourty-five degree between Ambrose's left and back side, he would aim to rush straight toward his upper hind left flank. As he rushed forward, he made sure his weight was evenly set between all of his limbs, favoring his three non-mangled ones; and his tail remained sticking out straight behind him for balance. As he felt his paws contact with the ground, his toes would spread, gripping the soil for traction so as to not be sent sprawling off-balance with his attempted attack. Likewise, his head was lowered and his shoulders rolled forward, muscles taunt save for his jaws which aimed to spread and take hold of the back of Ambrose's upper left hind flank - he hoped the pressure was great, enough to make the stranger bleed. His hackles were raised in an aggressive display while his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs, and his nose wrinkled as a low snarl was released from the depths of his chest.
As he attempted this, he kept his neck scrunched, protecting the more sensitive areas - his neck in particular. He would also lift his weight up from his front right law to aim to lash out at Ambrose's right hind leg, hoping the sudden pressure might force him to lose his balance and push him into the bite he aimed to hold.
Round 1 / 2 for Spar vs. Ambrose
He traveled down from the more northern lands toward the Battlefield. He was familiar with this place. Green eyes would scan the terrain as he walked, his gait strong and certain despite the slight limp he was perpetually burdened with from his mangled hind paw. This place, in all its foul glory, was quite intriguing, and the scent of blood and death that permeated his nose was exhilarating rather than nauseating. Already he could feel adrenaline pounding in his chest, the hollow whirl of the blood rushing to his head echoing between his ears.
The scent of a pair of wolves quickly caught his attention. His body tensed, slinking low to the ground as the small stub of a tail he had left twitching in anticipation behind him. When he spotted them, he crept forward slowly, a grin spreading on his lips. Perhaps he could ambush one of them, since - by their postures - they were here waiting for a fight. At the very least, it would keep things interesting..
Coming from about a fourty-five degree between Ambrose's left and back side, he would aim to rush straight toward his upper hind left flank. As he rushed forward, he made sure his weight was evenly set between all of his limbs, favoring his three non-mangled ones; and his tail remained sticking out straight behind him for balance. As he felt his paws contact with the ground, his toes would spread, gripping the soil for traction so as to not be sent sprawling off-balance with his attempted attack. Likewise, his head was lowered and his shoulders rolled forward, muscles taunt save for his jaws which aimed to spread and take hold of the back of Ambrose's upper left hind flank - he hoped the pressure was great, enough to make the stranger bleed. His hackles were raised in an aggressive display while his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs, and his nose wrinkled as a low snarl was released from the depths of his chest.
As he attempted this, he kept his neck scrunched, protecting the more sensitive areas - his neck in particular. He would also lift his weight up from his front right law to aim to lash out at Ambrose's right hind leg, hoping the sudden pressure might force him to lose his balance and push him into the bite he aimed to hold.
Round 1 / 2 for Spar vs. Ambrose
WARNING: Kaprasíus is extremely prone to violence, including maim fights & character claiming.
Katja is also welcome in any and all of his threads, without warning.
He also has a bush viper companion named Jǫrmungandr.