The deer let out a strange and honking squeal as it felt the tusks stab into it, the power of Czernobog's tossing head sending it right into the air. Blood slicked its coat almost at once, and as the enraged boar impaled him, he quickly stumbled back.
And away.
Fight or flight had quickly gone from fight to flight, and the stag turned, stumbling rapidly for the ferns. It could easily outpace the boar--for a few moments... but the injury was not minor. Czernobog might be able to easily keep up as the deer's strength faltered, or barring that, track the wounded buck down and finish him off.
@Czernobog
[Mature]
The buck let out another honking bleat of fear as the massive black bristling thing bore down on him and slammed into his haunch. It felt its hind end go skyward once more, and tumbled down into the muck near the stream, scrambling and struggling to get up.
Eyes rolled wide in terror, tongue dangling as the bloodied prey panted, gasping for breath. There were places in its haunch torn down through the flesh and muscle straight to bone, places where crimson liquid pooled and dripped as the muscles clenched, the buck trying--and failing--to stand again.
It was helpless where it stood. A pathetic toss of its head toward Czernobog's face would likely not even touch him, the twin antler tines having very little force behind them, even with the buck's desperation.
@Czernobog
[Mature]
Death was rarely pretty. This was no exception.
The stag cried out again, its bleating carrying through the trees, as Czernobog's tusks gored into it, flinging it again. He tumbled into the mud, going still bar his panting, his body slowly collapsing there.
His body was trying now simply to survive around the grievous wounds the boar had inflicted upon it.
It would fail.
All that remained was for the boar to lift his prize and somehow carry it home. Assuming no one stole it along the way.
Or, if he Czernobog was the merciful sort, he could deliver the coup de grâce first.
Or if he was not, perhaps he might play with his prize.
Or if he were greedy...
Some hundred yards upriver, silent and motionless as they stared, stood the three does. Their wide eyes watched the black boar, nostrils flaring, broad ears swung out to listen.
((You may emote for the buck from here on out!))
@Czernobog
The three does stared, watching.
They trembled. They considered. Disparate instincts fought within them. But they were three; the boar was one.
Suddenly, they charged: first one, then the other two close behind, their hesitancy pushed aside by their leader's courage. Twelve hooved feet drove into the ground as they rushed along the riverbank, one of them snorting a challenge.
Would Czernobog stand his ground, or flee? Or perhaps charge to meet their rush?
@Czernobog
The boar charged into their midst. None were knocked airborne, but two of the does were shoved to the side, one tumbling down toward into the mud, the other stumbling and skidding down toward the river. The impact was powerful, enough to drive tusks through the flesh of one doe's flanks.
One doe turned and bolted off, tail flagged in alarm. The second lashed sharp hooves out at Czernobog. The third, the one who had fallen, stumbled up more slowly, an easy target.
The one fleeing, however, seemed to have been injured, and her flight was not as fast as it could be. The black boar could perhaps chase her, or gore the doe kicking uselessly in his vague direction... or kill or disable the downed one.
@Czernobog