Jagmeet | God of Earth | King Over the Plains
Jagmeet felt his magic swell in his chest, the glow in his chest brightening as shards of purple light dances over the ground. He reminded himself not to strike the creature down, as this was to be a match, not a permanent lesson. His great horn sparked with shades of green energy, sparkling as he began to flex his old muscles into place before stomping a hoof against the ground again. Tearing grass from the earth beneath it, a pop like thunder cracked around the pair as the grass began to stir and shot up around the cryptids legs tightly like tentacles.
"Do not mistake preparedness for eagerness, child." His voice boomed before stepping forward to the trapped beast and slamming his head into its side and throwing it off its feet away from him. The Earth God stretched his body a bit, the dappling sunlight from the canopy illuminating his muscular form kept hidden under a usually relaxed hide. His mossy mane began to float slightly with the strong spike of magic in the air, flowers shooting from the earth around him and blooming around his ankles as he waited patiently for his opponent's first move.
There were not many stories of this version of Jagmeet, as he had made sure it would be. In order to wield the most rigid of elements, one must be as strong and unmoving as the earth itself, but also as flexible as the grass that covered the large plains of his region. Anyone with any sense would assume he was the most immovable creature, let alone the most skilled in physical combat. He was not the leanest or quickest creature, but he was the sturdiest among the gods.
"You may yield at any time you see fit, but know I will not stop until you say to." Jagmeets voice rumbled as he looked down at the creature, taking note of his antlers as the match began. He wanted to be sure to avoid them, even if they could not damage his hide for long, he still did not enjoy the prick of prongs.
WC: 351 Words | +1 Chimes
