---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- «c» The serene waft of perfume wavered within his nostrils and then slowly died out. The phlegmatic beats and strides of the monotonous and cumbersome sea played within his ears like the tiny tin music of a music box. The steady and cumbersome hoof-beats raged across the midsummer quagmire. The sun hung low at its angle, it's serene double trembling---like a beetle on a pin---on the surface of the waves. Mucus membranes input deliberate beats of the phlegmatic aroma, each outburst of air filling her up with warmth like you would do to a kettle. Lappets flitter to and fro, gathering tidbits of the information the inamorta spoke so vividly about. The endlessly monotonous rage as the wind pounded its anger to the russet foliage tickled his ears. Sinews flinch beneath the obsidian hide matted with the tears of previous battles and their outcomes. Mucus membranes flutter, inputting the deep and pungent aroma that flowed so freely from the bodies of the equines. The leviathan continued his brisk walk towards the timbers, frankly unaware that the wanton was following her. Muddied titanium’s ripped the henna quagmire. The sky was a ragged blaze of red pink and orange, and it's double trembled on the surface if the foamy waves like color spilled from a paint-box. The sun was dropping fast now, a soft red sliding egg yolk, and already to the east there was darkening to a purple tinge. Across the waves a bullfrog spoke a deep note of warning. The luxurious scent of viridescent shoots beat its way to his tender mucus membranes, filling his mind with thoughts of the delectable treats. This was Gullshore. This was his home. Claustrophobic blinked the sweat from his eyes before resuming the position his sire had taught him so many years before. He still had the strategy within his mind; a strategy freshly laid out within the day that she challenged the clamorous soul called Claustrophobic. A rush of adrenaline quickly swept through his body, as quickly it came…it was gone. This was his challenge, the epitome of wit, agility, strength, and excellence. Pillars quickly tense low, awaiting the first blows from the mare. Claustrophobic was tiny, yes he was small but he was quick and witty. The bigger the target the easier the aim. Apical tips stood firmly planted yet slightly awake as to spring up at any moment like a snake seizing it’s prey of the day. Unlike a snake Claustrophobic would not slither around his prey and break it’s lungs, cutting off it’s air circulation till it died. Oh no, Claustrophobic’s subject was far more compatible and hypocritical. To the far east, in the direction of the purple atmosphere, the mirage’s and illustrious illusions of the equines dancing with their feet and tearing out was shown clearly upon the henna quagmire. Nasal passages clear slightly before he began his battle. «c» «c» It was truly pathetic, how this mare described the Gulls as disgusting and paranoid. How neurotic could you become? She thought with her wry and twisted jeers and jabs that she could throw him off balance. Typical. It reminded him of the raven. He refused to capitalize the ‘r’ in their name. They were like rats, scurrying about looking for cheese until they got caught in some trap and their heads came off. That was disgusting. There was only one thing Claustrophobic hated. And that was the ravens’. It was not because they had exiled his dam from their biased plains, oh no. It was because they were who they were. Black, dark black birds who flew through the air eating other peoples picnics. Their cry was like the shrill clamor of a dying warthog. Their diminutive, beady eyes staring at you. That was disgusting. He had had an offer to become a raven, and he would agree? How difficult is the answer? He felt revulsion for this hissing raven, and pity for his sister. How beautiful. After pushing his attack towards the lithe raven called Umitaka, he knew Falcon would attack. The petty fool had thought he had thought she would attack his rump. That was more of a disguise for his true attack. In some places he was called the Scheme Maker. How difficult for this raven to decide why, but isn’t it true falcons eat ravens? It's rather unpleasant, yet now it is my turn to bar my opponent «c» «c» Bulwarking vitals he diligently kept his burly yet diminutive legs mobile while not allowing his back to face his enemy, anticipating the combat to commence. Lets get it on! Claustrophobic was of arabic descent. His father was an arabian and his dam was too. He was tiny, agile, witty, brave, and strong in a way but gargatuan size was not any of his great aspects. He was said to have had talent for fighting [people tell me that] and he loved it too. He did not love bloodshed and screaming like an idiotic lunatic he loved the exultant feeling of winning. He turned to stare at the trundle with the confused look spreading over her face, and Claustrophobic smirked. Now he knew how to make his opponent confused, and now he knew what her moves were. The first moves are always the most difficult. You do not know what your opponent will do or will not do, but after that it's easy. He surveyed her, as scrutinizing as he had watched Umitaka, to his glee he gathered his information. Now it was up to his body to move. He was aware of his bad leg, his left leg, cut deeply. Umitaka had been smart, smart in not letting him prepare as this equine had been. Why is their motto 'intelligence dilligence and dominance' if they cannot keep such a promise? I do not know, yet I do not burden my mind with these pesky thoughts. I know my weakness, and the blow that Umitaka made only knocked my foot deeper into the pangs of 'uselessness'. I am aware it is useless, it is dead, limp, lifeless. I am at a disadvantage, but the clock is turning, the wind just changed direction. The mare had cheated, and Claustrophobic knew it, she had made two attacks instead of one, so Claustrophobic might use her tactics too. Claustrophobic knew what to expect of a Raven, grumpy old b.itch. Hag, wench, whatever she desired to call herself fit, but now it was time to prepare. «c» «c» He would aim for his leg, the 'paralyzed' one. Aiming to send him off balance. He would not brace himself for this but instead try to dodge it. He quickly bolted back to avoid the clanging pains of the mares shoulder, yet he was not fast enough. The mares feet caught his rump, leaving yet another deep wound for his children to admire. His face was wry and twisted in pain, he grimaced, letting out no sound not even a tiny yelp of pain. Nothing. Sacred silence. She had not suceeded, she had not thrown him off balance which was the best part for Claustrophobic, but her venom was not over yet. Claustrophobic quickly got up, for fear time would cheat him now...he knew never to depend on anything from previous battles. He lunged, just as the ignoble's titaniums reached to pound his stomach he grasped the sinking marble carpet and withdrew his sword---his 'saber' teeth. He aimed to go for the eye, but that was a cover up. Instead he sharply wheeled around as the wench's hoofs met his rump again. He bucked, sending his hatred, rage, wrath, and anger for everything; ravens, falcon, cheating, lies, and he bucked. Meeting the jaw with supreme force he kicked. His legs were not gargatuan but even if the mare moved her face, it would meet her eye and blind her. If she played the 'superhorse' then sadly reality would be knocked back into her when it broke her shoulderbone, ne? He snapped back, his glare never leaving the two equines. Until he heard the rustling in the gargatuan leaves, yet he still remained still as a rock. His muscles were tense, the soft splotching of dripping blood could be heard from his rump and leg as the sand absorbed it. He watched as the black ignoble emerged from the Glade, he knew it, she had never failed him before. He smiled before speaking, for he had foreshadowed that he had tricks, Nicco had just proved one of them. «c» "And now, NICCO is here to battle alongside me!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- C L A U S T R O P H O B I C tempremental disaster fly with the cerulean seas