YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR The heat is stifling. Tallsun has always been the Indomitable's least favourite season, as he suffers horrendously with his black fur and great size. Joining the Throat only solidified his hatred of the heat, and although the season is only a few weeks old, he already craves the blessed chill of Orangemoon and Frostfall. He is almost the warlord he's always dreamed of being, though - he can feel it. He's so close now, and the Tallsun inferno is not going to get in his way. Volterra is no stranger to pushing himself above and beyond his limits, and today is no different. The heat inside the Throat makes him uncomfortable, so naturally he is going to combine both of those things and spar inside his home whilst the merciless sun beats upon his back. He will suffer, he's sure, but it'll be worth it. When he is Indomitable in every sense of the word, he will look back on this agonising, unpleasant fight and revel in it. His mind is on the Throat's smallest warrior, Pippigrin. The winged one has asked to be taught and Volterra is only too happy to oblige, even if it makes his conscience ache at the idea of fighting someone so small. It isn't a fair fight, but as Sultan it is his duty to obey the requests of his citizens, and perhaps Pippigrin will be a deceptively tough opponent. The goliath reaches the centre of the Throat, his hooves cruching on soft sand as he assesses his battlefield. "Pippigrin!" he booms. His dragons are absent - he cannot be dealing with their attempts to eat his opponent - so he is alone as he stands there waiting for his miniscule foe. ________ Spar for @Pippigrin ! Set in the Dragon's Throat on a hot Tallsun day, late afternoon. 0/3 - words |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5 |
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE |
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind |
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
Pippigrin! |
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5 |
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE |
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow |
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR Aaah! Mr. Volterra sir! The Sultan cranes his head upwards towards the sound, grinning despite himself at the title. "I am," he rumbles in reply. He'd almost forgotten the fact that his opponent is winged. He's always fought pegasi amongst the trees before now, never out in the open where they can use their wings to their full effect. It makes him wonder for a second how on earth he is going to hit the tiny little fellow if he can't even reach him, but he reminds himself that pondering things like this now is much better than pondering them for the first time in a very real battle against a very real winged foe. From so high up, Pippigrin looks even smaller than he actually is. Volterra has never fought somebody so small, somebody who could probably slip beneath his girth without him even noticing. That will present a multitude of challenges in itself, as the pony will have access to areas on the Indomitable that no other opponents can reach. Most worryingly, his Volterra-hood. As he had done during his last meeting with the miniature warrior, he clamps his tail firmly down and shuffles his hind legs together to protect the great weight that hangs between them, deciding that he's much more comfortable with Pippigrin in the air than he is with him under there. He is inclined to think that the pony's size means that his strength is sorely lacking, and he can't help but think his speed and agility may be affected too. That sturdy little body looks hardy, though, and Volterra believes that the pony's endurance may outstrip his own especially in this horrific heat. Are you ready? "As honourable as it is to tell your opponent that you are attacking, I would advise against it in a real fight. The element of surprise is one of the greatest weapons you have in your arsenal, especially given your size. So I am going to pretend I didn't hear that, and carry on going about my business." It is a clear hint for the pony to utilise the element of surprise, and despite the fact he now knows precisely where Pippigrin is and also his intention to attack, Volterra begins to amble slowly forwards as though he's blissfully unaware of his potential teeny-tiny assailant. At the request to count him in, the titan growls and rolls his eyes, a clear no. He continues studiously ignoring the flying threat, as much as his skin prickles with the desire to turn around and see which angle he's going to be attacked from. Despite himself, Volterra is nervous. He is a warlord, one of the greatest to bless the face of Helovia, but if Pippigrin somehow manages to defeat him...oh, the humiliation! It only takes one slip, or even one twitch of the pony's hoof into his head, and Volterra the Indomitable will become known as Volterra the BeatenByAMidget. Suddenly there's a whistle of air, and Volterra begins to instictively swing towards it. Before he can face it, his foe collides with his left side with a great, painful thud, sending the massive stallion staggering to the side. Pippigrin might be small, but when he dive-bombs like a rabid pigeon he can pack quite the punch. A grunt leaves the onyx monolith's jaws as a muscle-deep bruise blossoms like a flower in the stricken area just behind his left shoulder. It is incredibly painful, although thankfully the fact it missed his shoulder means that his movement isn't too badly restricted. Instinct overrides everything else and Volterra launches his jaws around and towards his opponent. He seeks to bite any part of the pegasus that he can reach, although his teeth hunger for one of those feathered wings so he can try and pull Pippigrin out of the sky. Brutal, perhaps, but he doesn't think the pony will learn unless his tutor is somewhat rough with him. "That was good," he manages to boom heartily through the haze of his pain. "Your wings are the one thing you have that I don't. I can't defeat you if I can't reach you, although I would advise against too many similar attacks else your opponent will grow wise and pluck you out of the air. In this heat, you need to conserve your energy as much as possible." Which Volterra is doing with relative ease given he is standing in the one spot. ________ Spar for @Pippigrin ! Set in the Dragon's Throat on a hot Tallsun day, late afternoon. 1/3 - 740 words |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5 |
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE |
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind |
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
Jaws clenched tighter than ever before, eyelids shut fiercely over gem-like irises, forelimbs tightened into a great wayward hunch, Pippigrin’s assault had somehow proceeded with impeccable accuracy. His butting tendril of horns had seemingly found their way to the near side of the Sultan in such a way that had left the mammoth staggering under the punch, a grunt filling the velveteen ears of the hobbit just as a similar sound left his own chops; “OOOFH!” |
[/quote]
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5 |
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE |
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow |
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR His teeth find feathers, and their texture is entirely foreign to him as they slip into his mouth. He's never actually bitten the wing of a pegasus before, and there's something unnerving about the ticklish feel of feathers against his gums, accompanied with the knowledge that these odd, lightweight things have the ability to defy gravity itself by lifting a fully-grown horse into the air. Sinking his teeth into one feels unnatural, as though he's attempting to take something intrinsic away from the wing's owner. The titan can't help the spasm of guilt as Pippigrin crashes to the ground with an ungodly yowl, and again he's forced to debate the ethics of this fight. Is it really fair to take out his strength on such a poorly-matched opponent? His throbbing shoulder goes some way towards numbing this pang of conscience, and he reminds himself that the miniature warrior had asked to be taught. Volterra realised from an early age that you can't learn if your opponent handles you with kid gloves on; until you take a few painful blows to your body and ego alike, you have no reason to train to avoid said blows. Pippigrin's expression turns back into a grin, and Volterra raises a somewhat bemused eyebrow. Is the little fellow actually happy to have received a bona fide battle wound of his very own? He also seems pleased as punch at the Indomitable's compliment, and the onyx colossus realises that he'll probably educate the pony more through kindness than harshness here. The lad seems to idolise him, and a few words of support will go further than whole sentences of scolding. That isn't Volterra's natural teaching technique - he's stern, firm, but fair - yet if it helps Pippigrin then he's honour bound to try. The warlord braces himself for another attack, expecting the pony to use his current positioning to aim a bite at his larger opponent, but he doesn't. Instead he wanders away up a sand dune, leaving Volterra to smother an eyeroll of utter disbelief and disapproval. "What are you doing?" he can't help but splutter, momentarily forgetting his vow to train the tiny warrior with honey rather than vinegar. "Too slow, Pippigrin! Battles are quick things, and a true warlord is built upon his ability to make split-second decisions and judgements. Once you've engaged your opponent you need to stay close to them, as now you no longer have the element of surprise, you're only going to give them time to plan how to avoid you if you begin your attacks from further away." Sure enough, he's able to see Pippigrin as he charges from the sand dune, approaching from behind. The leviathan has ample time to turn, preparing himself for the inevitable - part of him wants to inflate the lad's ego by letting him land another heavy blow, but he's determined to teach the pony the consequences of his actions. Narrowing his crimson gaze onto the tiny figure, Volterra waits for the optimum moment and then ducks. Pip's hooves soar over his head without causing any damage, and suddenly the behemoth launches himself sharply upwards in a half-rear - his teeth seek the pony's tail as it whizzes overhead, attempting to grab the end of it and pull his opponent down to the ground again. If he's successful, he won't try to slam the tiny warrior into the floor with great force - rather, he'll try to drag him towards the sand at a soft enough angle that the little fellow hopefully won't break anything on impact. Reminding himself that he still needs to educate his foe, the behemoth speaks again. "Stay close to me this time, Pippigrin, and try to attack in a way that I'm not expecting. You've gone for my top section twice now, so in a real battle I'd be expecting you to do the same again. Call my bluff and try something different. You can do this, I know you can." There's as much kindness in his voice as he can possibly muster, and it's infused with a determination and belief that he hopes will rub off on the little warrior. The mammoth's flesh glows with a slight sheen of sweat, although because he hasn't moved much during this fight, he's managed to largely escape exhausting himself too much. The wound to his left side throbs, but it's not unbearable - he's determined to see this battle through to the end, especially now it seems that they have a foal-sized audience. ________ Spar for @Pippigrin ! Set in the Dragon's Throat on a hot Tallsun day, late afternoon. 2/3 - 749 words |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5 |
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE |
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind |
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
A misplaced feather; that was perhaps the only thing to touch the great behemoth’s back. Neither of his front feet, nor the tips of his sharpened toes managed to plunge into the Sultan’s fleshy hide, and it was almost with anticipation of failure that he continued to glide over the mammoth’s back. Perhaps he could have switched his flight mid-air, turning upon his great expanse of muscle, bone and feather to manoeuvre his body in the direction of Volterra’s turning head, or maybe he could have beat his wings down upon his opponent’s face in an attempt to temporarily blind him and buy some more air time. He did none of those things, however, and instead was plucked from the air once again like a frog would an insect. |
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5 |
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE |
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow |
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR The little fellow seems slightly shaken by his fall, and the fragment of honour that exists inside Volterra bids him to stand his ground and not attack Pippigrin whilst he recovers. The warlord snatches his breath during the short interlude, taking the opportunity to ensure that his posture upon the sand is perfect and that his balance is optimum for what remains of the fight. His coat gleams with sweat, emphasising each rippling muscle, but his lack of any great movement means that he's not as exhausted from the heat as he'd expected. His left side throbs from Pip's first attack, and he knows that if he'd moved much more, the wound could truly have troubled him. As it is, it simply pulses a painful rhythm against his skin, reminding him that a small opponent does not necessarily denote a weak one. He keeps his gaze warily on the miniscule warrior as Pippigrin prepares for his final attack. Volterra half expects the younger stallion to ignore his advice and attack from the air once again, so he's pleased when the pegasus instead remains firmly grounded. This pleasure is set to be shortlived, though, because suddenly the pony unleashes a battle-scream and darts beneath Volterra's underbelly. Immediately the warlord's eyes widen in alarm. What hangs beneath there is precious beyond words, both the great sheathed length of his manhood and the heavy, swinging sack that accompanies it. Without one, the other would be essentially useless - the thought of being gelded is one that haunts the Indomitable's darkest nightmares. Between the sweaty bulk of his thighs is what makes him him; a stallion, a father, a conqueror of the battlefield and of many a mare's womb. He's heard tales of men who have been cut, and suspects he's met one in the shape of the palomino vampire he defeated a few months back; without the testosterone flooding through them, their muscles do not erupt to their fullest extent, their bodies stunted and weak in comparison to their entire brethren. What point is there to life for these poor half-men? How can they possibly exist day to day, seeing mares yet feeling no desire to monopolise or mount them? How do they cope when they don't have the competitive drive to take, crush and dominate? Volterra cannot contemplate the idea of losing something so precious. That's why he'd been so wary about fighting somebody as small as Pippigrin, and why his very first thought upon meeting the tiny man was that he would be capable of accessing those valuable areas. Try to attack in a way I'm not expecting, he'd said. This, he supposes, is the miniscule warrior doing precisely what his teacher had instructed him to do....although at this exact moment, Volterra wishes Pippigrin had ignored him again. He has to act fast. His neck is craned around, watching Pippigrin disappear beneath him, aiming for there. With a savage grunt, Volterra launches himself to the right; he's acting on instinct alone, not caring what part of him gets damaged as long as it's not his balls. As a result, Pip's teeth sink into his left thigh instead, mercifully missing the large, swinging pendulums that he'd been aiming for. The bite wound is excrutiating, with the pony's blunt teeth immediately creating a small but deep bruise on the tender area. It sets Volterra's jaws on edge to think about how much more painful the attack woud have been had it hit its intended target. Last time somebody aimed for his knackers in battle, Volterra had broken their ribs in furious retaliation. He can't deny the frisson of anger that ripples through him, making him want to crush Pippigrin down like a bug as pennance for what he'd tried to do - yet the warlord cannot deny that it was a unique and well-worked attack, so he feels like he cannot scold the pony for it. "Not quite what I had in mind," he growls through gritted teeth. "But I will admit that it was effective." Mercifully not as effective as intended! "Now, watch my movements and try to avoid my attack. Take note of the movemets of my muscles, as they can give away my intentions." With another feral war-rumble, Volterra spins on his forequarters to try and bring his rump facing Pippigrin. Throwing his weight to his forelegs - and thanking his lucky stars that his side wound doesn't prevent this - the titan kicks his back hooves out towards his opponent. He doesn't put a great deal of force into his attack, not wanting to break Pippigrin in two as he could if he put his full, formidable strength into it, but he attempts to cause a very painful bruise on any part of the smaller man that he can reach. ________ Spar for @Pippigrin ! Omfg pip LMAO xD Thanks for the fight Neverr! 3/3 - 797 words |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5 |
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE |
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind |
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
By now the grey goose of a boy was naught but a flurry of feathers; some bloody, and some flying away from the wound in his wing as he crawled out from the wide space between Volterras front and back legs. His attack had seemingly been a success even though he had now quite managed to bite into the exact organ he was aiming for. Proud, was he, the halfling who battled the Indomitable, and managed to make him howl and skip away with terror! |
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99 |
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK |
Blu |
Helovia Hard Mode