This choice: A) Retreat to the forest • Go Back...Chapter #4Mudsdale sends you packing. by: sneakyk   The Mudsdale may be a herbivore. Or at least, you assume he is, but you also know that this colossal stallion could either end your life in an instant with a single stomp of its mighty hooves. Alternatively, it could add a bit of protein to its diet and make you wish you could be atomized in a single stomp. You decide it's best to not chance an encounter with the enormous equine, and go about immediately running perpendicular to the path of the approaching storm of hooves and hoofbeats.
As you move to flank the enormous creature, the storm halts momentarily, as do you. You turn your attention upwards towards the Mudsdale's muzzle, and you feel your spine tingle as you realize the huge horse is looking straight at you. An awkward silence falls upon the both of you for all of thirty seconds. That silence is interrupted by a mighty equine snort, followed by a renewed stomping of hoofbeats, though these are far slower. The Equine is trotting your way in apparent curiosity over the novel form of farm-vermin before him. Perhaps he only wishes to give you a sniff. Perhaps he means to sample you. You'd rather not chance it.
You break into a sprint towards the treeline, doing your best to elude the horse's path. For his part, the Mudsdale maintains a slow and plodding approach. He does not seem intent on chasing you down, and instead merely seems curious about you. That does not, however, mean that he has anything resembling your best intentions in mind. As you hastily rush through the grass, you find yourself staggering and stumbling, the farmfield foliage not exactly conducive towards a tiny person's swift retreat. With your every setback and stumble, the Mudsdale draws closer to you, and you could swear the horse's snorts are ones made out of amusement.
You eventually manage, however, to make it to the edge of the forest, and are met with a sudden gut wrenching sensation as you very nearly trip over and tumble, saved only by a quick decision to grab a blade of grass. Although you didn't notice it earlier, the edge of the field leads to a steep downwards slope. You take a breather as you observe the path ahead, not wishing to tumble uncontrollably. The blades of grass and assorted forest underbrush obscure the exact steepness of the hill, making the path ahead of you a precarious one. You can, however, see that the underbrush gradually tapers off into a forest floor comprised more of dirt and leaves than living foliage, a gradual transition away from one biome to another.
As you assess your surroundings, a rush of hot air washes over you from behind... one that smells distinctly of horse. You turn to see the massive Mudsdale's muzzle resting at point blank range before you. It's the size of a room. Before you can make any decision, the horse licks at your body, sending you stumbling onto your bottom. Yeuuuuck! You sit there dazed for a moment, your front end coated in a thick, likely slightly acidic layer of horse saliva and froth. After an awkward moment you begin to wipe yourself dry against a grassblade
But you don't have long to wipe. In the corner of your vision you see the horrifying sight of the inside of the Mudsdale's mouth, of its elongated tongue and its crushing herbivorous teeth. Realizing that near certain death awaits you, you grab a clump of dirt and fling it forward, aiming directly for the horse's eyes.
A near deafening NEIIGHHH sounds, followed by a mighty quaking of the earth. It is obvious that your attack worked. You brush some saliva off of your brow and look upward to see the Mudsdale looking at you with fury. Now would be a good time to get away...
The Mudsdale reels back, his figure becoming a terrifying and colossal shadow wreathed by the morning light, one of apparent apocalyptic threat. You begin to regret not letting him scoop you into his mouth , for at least then there would be a chance he would spit you out.
A whoosh of air echoes from above, and then you feel an agonizing headsplitting ringing in your ears, followed by a surprising coldness.
Recovering your senses, you realize that you haven't at all been pulverized into a dust or paste upon the soil. In fact, much the opposite. You appear to be flying. Is this death? Did it come upon you so quickly that you did not notice it? Are you about to sore into the heavens? But as you hurtle through the air, you quickly realize that you still feel a splitting headache, that a sense of nausea has overtaken you, and then the forest treeline appears to be overhead. You're flying, alright. The shockwave of the stomp, likely backed by the Mudsdale's ground type power, sent you flying. Had you been caught under its hoof when it struck the ground, you would have no doubt been slaughtered then and there.
In your current predicament, however, you aren't exactly appreciative of that fact. As you tumble through the air at a considerable velocity, you can only hope for a happy landing...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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