Ha! Tables 1, squirrel torture 0.

His attacks are somewhat successful, which feeds the purring beast in his belly. He is especially proud of the strike to the unicorn's hindleg, which will hopefully rid the stabby bitch of some of his bounce, like castrating Tigger. He commands the earth-plateau to crumble, reuniting him with some of his strength, and the satisfaction of landing a hit of his own somewhat lessens the pulsing agony of his own wound. Somewhat being the operative word - he's still fuming, rage building like a volcano beneath the surface. It would be a dreadful shame if he was to get badly hurt again during this fight...

Oh. Volterra is rarely caught by surprise, but Rikyn manages it with two swift pumps of his hindquarters. The brute doesn't expect his foe to use his injured leg as a weapon, so when the hindlegs unfurl from beneath the unicorn's body as he ballet-leaps to the side, it catches the giant off-guard. The snowstorm, lowering visibility, obscures his vision until the last moment, when he has just a fraction of a second to throw his head up to avoid it being crunched by the unicorn's hooves. Instead, the cloven weapons slam hard, bash, BASH, into the titan's upper chest, where it joins his neck. Twice, in quick succession, he feels his flesh pulverized by the wrath of the puppeteer, and the pain is instantaneous. Muscle-deep bruising blossoms immediately - his entire chest seizes up, and suddenly he's snatching at the frigid air to try and haul breath into his lungs before he suffocates with agony.

He hobbles, stumbles forward, the snow sucking his limbs like quicksand, testing whether he can move properly - the answer is no, and he swiftly halts. The movement is just enough to take him out of range of Rikyn's horn, which he is thankful for - to be skewered by that again would be too great an indignity for the prideful stud to bear. Frustration devours him, the knowledge that it will now be damn near impossible for him to chase after his foe in order to land a hit - he'll only be able to strike when Rikyn is in close quarters. He has a high pain threshold, but his chest is simply too seized up to allow for much movement.

Rage builds, explodes. Inside the hellion's bloodstream it ignites...something. Something he didn't know he had, a spark of power that just needed a catalyst to set it free. Like a carnival bear, it rips down the bars of its cage and devours the fucking world.

The fire he feels inside him becomes tangible. The ground to his right suddenly bubbles and bursts upwards, as though his structure magic is taking hold - but it isn't, it's something else. The stone merges, blends, takes shape - it becomes vaguely humanoid, its head on a level with Volterra's, its lines rugged and crude. The stallion's ears pin, confused, his pain-addled mind unable to comprehend his creation, this new magic that's just erupted out of him like wildfire. And, unlike his structures, it is...not sentient, not intelligent, but somehow alive.

It is a golem. His golem. Livid veins of fire ripple across its stony body, and its eyes and mouth glow with burning hate. It stretches, blinks slowly, grumbles stupidly from lava-dribbling lips. The snow nearby melts beneath the heat of it, snowflakes dissolving when they touch the hot rocks. His confusion gone, Volterra is awestruck at the sight of the magnificence he has created, and his eyes sparkle with savage delight. It is a living manifestation of his rage, a personification of the volcano that bubbles beneath his flesh, roused by the two brutal hits he's taken.

Through his pain, the leviathan smiles a terrifying smile.

He cannot control the golem as he controls his dragons, but somehow his mind nudges it to attack. It lumbers forwards, roaring, bunching its stone fingers into fearsome fists. It attempts to head towards Rikyn's right side, and pulls its right hand back with ominous intent - then forwards comes the fist, aiming a solid, devastating punch for the unicorn's right ribcage. Simultaneously, the left hand lifts, opens and turns sideways, then slams downwards in an attempt at a savage karate-chop to Rikyn's lower spine.

The golem is made of Volterra's fury. It does not have his self-control, his ability to pull his punches. It knows nothing but destruction, and the unicorn is simply a target that must be annihilated. But it cannot last - after it follows through with its punch and chop, hoping to demonlish the ribs and spine of its unfortunate victim, it begins to crumble into dust. It bellows, as though it knows its death is nigh - and then it is nothing but a pile of smouldering dirt.

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Spar for @Rikyn !

GOLEM POWERRRR. I imagine it to look like this.

2/3 - 798 words