My second fanfic. Reviews and all criticism accepted willingly. I recently reread Eldest and the Urgals really appealed to me, so this is focused on them.
His cloven hooves stamped into ground as he charged. Lowering his horns, he clashed violently with the young ram. Muscles stood out of his neck like pulsing mountains as he strained to push back the foe. With a sudden twist, the young ram released the hold of the horns. Both Urgals took a step back to take a measure of their opponents. They were both Kull, standing eight foot tall with long horns curling up from their temples. The young ram was heavily muscled and his chest rose heavily from the exertion of the fight. With the face of a horse, his dark eyes in stark contrast to his blood red skin, the ram lifted his top lip in contempt. "You are slow, old cramp," he growled. The other ram let out a howl of anger and charged, sending swirls of mud into the air.
Minutes passed and the brutal engagement continued. The ring of battle rang out. The crowd of dams and young, along with the fellow warriors of the clan cheered enthusiastically for one ram or the other. The older ram lifted a cloven hoof and planted it deep into the younger's stomach. As he keeled over in agony, he found an iron fist hit him in the teeth. The young ram's neck cracked backwards and a trail of blood flew from his mouth. But instead of falling over and opening himself for the finishing blow, the opponent retaliated by flicking his head forward onto the bridge of Garzhvog's snout. More deep red liquid was spilled. Back in close, the two enemies grappled, catching punches and blocking kicks. Faces inches from each other, Garzhvog spat into the young ram's eye. In that split second of confusion, Garzhvog reconnected horns. Both rams knelt close to the floor to get leverage.
For several tense seconds, the two pressed in in perfect impartiality, and then Garzhvog's superior strength and experience began to show. A grimace appeared on the young ram's face as he was pushed backwards inch by inch. By the time a twenty inch furrow had been driven into the ground like a trench, that grimace had turned into a harsh contortion that twisted the ram's face into a grotesque twisted expression. After the burst of energy his endurance had been shattered. With a final grunt of anguish, the young ram tried to release the hold. But in doing that he made his worst mistake; and Garzhvog took full advantage. A stream of curses flowed freely from his mouth like a river whose banks were bursting. He swung his head first one way then the next, until the young rams horns slipped. With both heavy, graveled hands he grabbed the right horn of the ram. Thrusting his hoof into the ram's back to force him onto his knees, he began slowly twisting the horn round and round. A horrific grating sound cut through the screams of Garzhvog's challenger. Then Garzhvog pulled with all his remaining might, and the horn was ripped out by its boney roots. Blood poured from the gap and covered the ram's face and ran from the horn down Garzhvog's huge arm. It held the horn aloft for the gods to witness. Power. It eminated from every pore of the Kull's body. His black eyes bore into those of his defeated adversary. The ram now groveled beneath his feet. The tribe, some hundred strong, now looked to him to finish the impudent buck. Instead he rose to full height, nearly nine foot tall, and his throaty voice echoed around the mountains of the Spine of the World, "Krasmak junta! Ahgrat ukmar! Let it be known! It is done!" then he reverted back to the human tongue, "from this day forward, the ram afore me shall be known as Drajl One-Horn and will live as an example of my power." Lifting both arms towards the heavens he tensed his iron hard muscles and let out a roar so loud it was heard miles away in the human village of Therinsford.
