...Taunting his opponent, Meats got taunted himself. For such a zeal and vigorous warrior, this were like pouring kerosine into flame, a malevolent urge flowing through his body and throbbing in the bones. His shoulders tensed, giving him a beastly hunch, and seconds later, he shot off towards the dragonkin, indeed, very much like a raging bull. Auron got what he asked for, and the reaction was so intense he couldn't stand up to it, thrown back like a ragdoll. 

The demon were satisfied, his agressive tactic impeccably supressing the opponent's skill. But for victory, the pressure should only raise, leaving no time to lose. Quickly regaining his balance, he charged at Auron again, hoping that rammed straight into the chest, he wouldn't recover quick. Meats had only been bothered by his damaged shoulder pad, which were slightly torn during the body slam - but the dragonkin could actualy feel pain. 

Regardless of his enemy's state though, he would attack the moment he got into range. Choosing the fastest possible strike, he would firmly plant his leading foot into the snow and then transfer all the gained momentum into a fierce shove, his torso jolting at Auron jogether with his arms. But was it Auron that he was trying to shove? No. It were his blade, Iginbo, which he would slam, aiming for the chest, and catch his opponent between its tip and the pine, as if they were a hammer and an anvil. It would suprise Meats if this didn't hit, as it were an incredibly fast and far from evident attack, one also easy to maneouver through a vertical parry or transfer into a stab that would sail over a horizontal block.

This was his chance.