The Plains
Major battles may often take place in this land.
I'll be up, up and away;
IP: 216.46.159.23
Posted on May 8, 2011 at 21:19:37 by SECTUMSEMPRA
She is, as always, overconfident as she struts into the Plains. After all, the last time she was here she had easily defeated a pair of black Chamber stallions on her own – what else could this land throw at her? The white mare has come alone, though she suspects that Vampyric will be accompanying Bjork, and imagines a handful of other Valley horses (perhaps Hugh and Aranea) will arrive before the competition has ended. She sees the crowds, gathered to cheer on their champions, and she simply snorts and turns away. It was quite like the horses of the other kingdoms to be so weak they needed vocal support to push on through a fight. Sempra knows she is alone in this, and that is how it should be, for she does not need someone else to distract her from her superior battling instincts.
It is only when comes within feet of the battle arena that she balks. Her hesitation is not for fear of the battle that comes – Sempra does not fear a good fight, but she has watched what happened as the other mythical horses as they entered the fighting grounds. The ram horns on a painted stallion vanish as he enters the ring, the wings on a Deserts mare disappear into thin air. “No,” she says quietly, and stops, looking around wide-eyed, wondering if there is some alternative. She has gone to great lengths to protect these small wings, the part of her that made her special, put her above others. The chunk that is ripped out of her left ear is a testament to that. After a few moments of standing just near the entrance, she finally drops her head and gives up. She closes her eyes as she walks, but she feels the winds of magic brush across and steal those wings from her head. At the same time, she feels the effects of the aging magic that has been placed on them. Sempra is hardly old, and it does not affect her much, but she feels a bit healthier, as though she has lost all the wear and tear from the wars and battle she has been in. She cannot be grateful for this advantage however, for she is so consumed with the loss of her wings.
When she opens her eyes, there is her opponent, a normal stallion towering nearly a foot over her. “This is your fault,” she growls. It wasn’t exactly his fault, of course, but she must direct her anger somewhere, and after all, he didn’t have any traits to lose. He has nothing but his immense largeness, and Sempra has enough ego for a horse twice her size. She has defeated larger opponents before and this stallion will be no different. She moves into a jog as she approaches the stallion and begins to move in a circle around him, stretching out her muscles and getting her heart beat up. He nods to her but she does not return the acknowledgement, simply eyes him carefully, looking for the bunching of muscles that will indicate he is moving off to attack. He is much more obvious about it than she needs him to be, and as he cries out and picks up speed, she does the same.
Only seconds will pass before he is coming toward her, covering the ground more quickly as his long legs eat up the earth. She watches as he approaches her to see where his weight will shift – whether it is to either side, or his hind legs (implying a rear), or his front (implying a buck). As he gets close (almost too close), she sees his muscles bunch in his hind legs as he leaps toward her. Sempra knows if they were to meet in face to face close combat she will be fighting a losing battle, as she is much more slender and short than the big red stallion. His weight alone will overpower her, his height will allow him to dictate their struggle. She may have a complex about her size but she is smart enough to know there is nothing she can do when size is the most important factor, so she devises another strategy. As he leaps toward her, she speeds up and darts to the right of the large stallion, moving quickly so she can pass him before he gets a chance to do much damage.
She is almost relieved when she realizes he is attacking with his teeth and not his forelegs – horse teeth are not very sharp or capable of gripping onto the taught skin of a horse’s neck (after all, they are meant for eating grass and not meat). He lashes out at her neck and she feels sharp teeth graze against her the skin on the left side of her neck as she passes him. She winces at the sting, but is confident that it will not be too debilitating as far as the battle is concerned. Still, the pain is distracting enough that she does not anticipate an immediate second attack. Surely he was not counting on her rushing away from him as he is still rearing on his hind legs and aiming for her skull, which is far out of his reach now. By the time he would have backed up a few steps and thrown out his forelegs, they will come down on the left side of her hindquarters. It is not a solid blow as she is moving and he is scraping the side of her hindquarter while on his way down instead of striking firmly, but it is still an attack that will surely follow her through the remainder of the battle.
Once she has passed the taller stallion, she slows down to feel out the damage to her leg. She regrets not being able to get in a kick or two as she passed but his second attack took her by surprise. She limps into an easy jog, circling the perimeter of the arena and sneering at the Gates horses that had gathered to support their warrior. “Go home,” she snorts. To Sempra, battle was an art meant only for the participants, not a sport meant to attract crowds. Still, the audience will not leave, and the white mare resigns herself to the fact that she had indeed signed up for entertainment value. “You want a show?” she mutters, likely inaudible to anyone but herself. “Fine.”
With that, she gives one last irritated snort to the crowd and turns back to the stallion. She would be ill advised to aim high – anywhere on the head, neck or shoulder is out of the question because of his height and her sore hindquarters. It will be difficult to support herself in a stable rear. No sense in not playing to her strengths and trying to knock his feet out from under him (literally, if she can help it). She moves toward him at a lope, nearly replicating his earlier approach to her as she comes directly at him so they are facing each other. She moves toward him steadily, again being watchful of which muscles are tensed to gauge what his reaction might be. She likes to play with her opponents. The confusion makes it fun for her and hopefully distracts them enough to give her some assistance in her attack. As she comes near the large stallion, she shifts her weight to her hind end and pops up her front legs just a bit – not enough to strain her hindquarters but enough to make it look like she is rising into a rear. She drops down however and moves to the stallion’s left side so that she can use her healthy right hind leg to deliver the blow. She hopes that he has risen up to meet her in a rear which would make him stationary and allow her to have more precision as she bucks low and aims for his hock.
In an ideal world, she would have cracked the bone, causing some kind of stress fracture that would only get worse each time the large stallion put his weight on the leg. Even if she didn’t break the bone, she would likely bruise or tear any number of the ligaments and tendons that meet at the joint. Surely the large stallion relied on his hind legs to drive him and any damage to a hind leg could be detrimental in the future (she would like to see him back up on hind legs with a fracture in his hock). Of course, the stallion might not have fallen for her trick, and her aim might not have been as accurate as she would have hoped. She does not spend time dwelling on the specifics of his defensive strategies – by aiming for his leg she has limited the outcomes somewhat and as long as she strikes, she expects the effects will be similar.
As soon as her hind legs land on the ground she moves away from the stallion’s hind end (wouldn’t want to give him time to kick out at her), and lopes in a circle to the left, completing half the circle before she ducks in so she is perpendicular to the stallion, moving straight at his left side. When she is just feet away from him, she plants her front legs and swings her hind legs around. She is not as worried about the precision of this attack – there are any number of sensitive areas she could strike on the stallion’s side. The height of her buck would place her hooves just along the bottom of his barrel, so depending on how he moved she could strike his elbow, his belly and lower ribs or his stifle (or some less specifically named area along that same height level on his body). A blow on the hind end of his body would cause even more pain each time he stepped on his left hind leg, and a blow at the front end would cause pain when he stepped on his front leg as well. A blow to the ribs or belly could knock the wind out of him and cause pain in breathing for the rest of the battle. She is striking on his left side again because she wants him to be favoring a side. Attacking on both sides would cause the same amount of injury but would at least offer him some balance. Weakening one side would also make him more predictable as he would be far less likely to duck off to the left side to get away from her because it would involve resting his weight on his injured legs.
Again, she moves away as soon as she feels dirt beneath her hooves, but this time she moves back toward the crowd and throws out a few bucks in their direction (of course, she is not nearly close enough to strike anyone, but the intention is clear) and snorts, again demonstrating her distaste for the Gates stallion’s supporters. The loss of her wings has frustrated her enough to take it out on all of them. Once she has made her point, she settles down into an easy jog, allowing her to catch her breath while still keeping her muscles warm and not letting her hindquarters cramp up. It may be her opponent’s turn, but that does not mean she is going to stand around and wait for him to attack.
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