the Rift


david and goliath [vol vs pip]

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
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
#1


YOU CAN'T STRAY FROM WHAT YOU ARE
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 ]




Pippigrin Posts: 77
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
#2












home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


Pippigrin!

Like the vibrant chorus of a gong, Volterra's call had wafted easily into the sleeping ears of the hobbit. Flicking against the urgent grunt of the Sultan, a stone-coloured ear turned towards the sound of the voice as the rest of Pip rolled onto his back, legs hoist over his silver tummy.
Licking his lips and snuggling deep into the oasis grass, Pippigrin's mind wandered through the trance of sleep to the bellowing sound he had heard just moments ago.
Pippigrin.
Hmm.
That's my name.
Fancy that.
Sounds like Mr. Volterra.
What would Mr. Volterra want with-


"YES?" he cried, hurling himself upwards with a beat of his sleepy wings.
The pony leapt from the grass, shaking his coat and pennons as he searched his surroundings for the black reaper of a stag; the indomitable Sultan of their sands.
A hobbit was always late, but he was not over-the-hill anymore. Helovians may not appreciate tardiness.
"YES!" He screeched once again as his pitter-pattering feet took him madly trotting away from the oasis, wings flared and loose feathers flying. The wind tore at his ears as he took off, and soon it was one of the only sounds he could hear. The violent swooshing, yet ripping sound it made was one he actually adored, but not the fact that it generally drowned all other sounds out.

Both wind and gravity pushed against his small body as he circled his home, looking for any sign of his hefty monarch, whom was eventually spotted in a vast expanse of sand.
"Aaah! Mr. Volterra sir!" He called from high above. "Found you! Are you ready to fight?" Pippigrins chest flared vibrantly with excitement, his breaths escaping through an agape mouth instead of his nose as he tread his wingbeats evenly over the air to stay up high, but without moving too far at all.

"I-I'll go first, okay. Are you ready?!" The hobbit squeaked, head and neck craned as he tilted his shoulders back so that he then stood up-right in the air. Perhpas it wasn't such a great idea to let his opponent know he was going to attack, but Pippin really didn't know any better.
Just like last time, the nerves caught him. The smile fell from his face as he deliberated and calculated his moves.
Convinced he would always strike better from above, Pip settled on a swooping attack - it was one he felt confident in actually doing damage with. Anything else he was convinced would feel like a flea bite to someone so huge.

"Will you... uh... can you... count me in?" the little one cooed down to the Sultan, his nerves still getting the better of him. But he couldn't wait, not even for a one, two, or a three. He had to go now.

Switching his weight from his back end to his front was the hardest part, but once he was diving his speed only gained and gained. His aim was not perfect, nor was his technique, but still the tiny creature prevailed.
Pippigrin had dived, tucking all four of his legs as close to his belly as they could fit and stretched his head and neck out in an effort to gain speed. His wings were outstretched, though folded at the tips to control his descent; when he wished to ascend once more, then they would flare and up he'd go. But not yet.
He was close to Volterra now, he was sure of it. Craning his neck and tucking his head downward, Pippigrin attempted to ram the goliath upon impact. The unlikely warrior then let his wings out to their full expanse in an attempt to send himself upwards and out of the attack once complete.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH" He had screamed upon what he hoped was impact with the great Sultan (and not the sand below).


attack; 1/3
words; 641
summary; pip swoops vol, attempting to ram him upon impact
damage; none yet




art: © x coding: © x

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
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
#3


YOU CAN'T STRAY FROM WHAT YOU ARE
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 ]




Pippigrin Posts: 77
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
#4












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!”
Although, one crucial element of his assault certainly did not come to fruition.

Angling the front plane of his wings upwards in an ineffable attempt to guide his flight up and out of his swoop, Pippin was caught off-guard by the grumbling jaws of his opponent. A scantily spoken gasp, one full of voice and worry, fell from the lips of the little warrior as his tail tucked and hooves outstretched in search for escape.
But alas; the critter was plucked from the air by the grounded behemoth, and it was far too late to swim up and out of this one. Perhaps it was merely his viridity at fault for such a miscalculation, and his technique was only something he could improve upon once his general naivety was diminished.

With the Sultan’s tushes gripping tightly upon his right wing’s upper radius, the less-than-half-sized stag was swung like a pendulum from the incisors of his king.
“AAAAAAAAAH!” The boy screeched for every moment he was airborne, his scream only ceasing once his stone-coloured hooves reached the dune below with a great thud, sand spraying under the impact like a splash of water.

“OUCH!” The aliferous hobbit growled towards Volterra, ears flattening momentarily as he fluttered his injured wing. Already he could feel the thick blood oozing over his feathers and seeking to stain his grey quills, though at least the Indomitable’s attack hadn’t crippled him. A bruised, toothy gash was what remained, and while at first the creature was convinced it was much worse, he soon realised after some gentle wingbeats that it really did not impair him too much. This was a fact that caused the boy to actually grin; he had survived an attack! And it wasn’t even that bad! He stood there under the jaws of the Sultan, blood trailing from his wing and he remained with his heart beating and his head up high.
Perhaps he really was destined for this!

Pepper-coloured ears switched forward to listen to the mammoths words of instruction and critique, though it was the first three words that the monarch spoke to him that really caught his attention and caused his heart to soar.
“That was good” Volterra had spoken, causing Pip to crane his head back and puff his chest with great pride, all the while doing his best to ignore the constant throbbing that was rising and falling from his bleeding wing.

Next came come words of advice about conserving his energy, words that easily made sense to Pippigrin given the attack sprung on him just moments before.
“Okay!” The hobbit whistled with a confident nod, glancing around momentarily to ponder his next attack. The little man could only assume that the Goliath would take it slow for training, so turning tail and marching up the sand dune, Pippin begun calculating his next attack.

Hoping to have the advantage of height once again by standing on the highest point of a near-by dune, the grey one allowed his wings to flare ever so slightly. The throb bothered him greatly, and for a moment he considered stopping to take a different approach that wouldn’t involve the use of his pennons, though he soon convinced himself that he was a warrior - such an injury wouldn’t affect the Sultan, and definitely not Mr. Gaucho!
Stepping forth down the sand hill, Pippin allowed his wings to their full span as he gathered speed down his descent, running down the sand dune with all the speed he could muster. Upon reaching the bottom he was met with slightly more level ground to which he could build speed in the direction of his opponent, and soon allowed his wings to lift his minuscule bodice upwards and off the ground. Waiting until he was in close proximity with the stag’s behind, Pippin aimed to glide across the ground and over the mammoth’s back, reaching down with his back leg and unleashing a great kick in an attempt to cause great injury to his opponents nearside hip or spine.


attack; 2/3
words; 749
summary; pip is pulled down by vol and gets a nasty cut on his wing; he then proceeds to walk up a nearby dune for a run up, runs down it and launches himself over Vols back (using his wings to assist him with the jump!) and attempts to kick his left hip.
damage; A bruise and toothy cut on his wing
@Volterra




art: © x coding: © x

[/quote]

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
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
#5


YOU CAN'T STRAY FROM WHAT YOU ARE
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 ]




Pippigrin Posts: 77
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
#6












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.

With his tail now clasped and fastened within the jaws of his rugged rival, there was nowhere for Pippin to go. His wings could beat with the speed of light and still, he would remain stuck. Though, all the pulling upon his spine caused an immense pressure to build in his dock, one that would be sure to release with a bang should he continue to pull. All that was left to do was perhaps the unthinkable for a pegasus; fall from the sky. Drawing in a great breath, a breath that he wished would grant him some kind of miraculous buoyancy, Pippigrin allowed his wings to flare and cease all movement.
Once again the hobbit was dragged through the air and the currents that always held him up high and proud. Too scared to cry out, the little lad found himself in the sand before too long - this time, it had felt much less violent, though it still rattled him all the same.

Gritting his teeth, his lips curling ever so slightly against the harsh pain within his dock and sacrum. All of the tiny puzzle pieces within his tail felt misaligned and wrong. Truthfully, it was not a truly terrible wound, nor completely debilitating, though still, he could feel it with each step. After wriggling his tail about he felt quite some relief from that ghastly phantom feeling from unsettled joints and bones, though still, the ache in his loins remained.
For a few short moment’s the little stag wondered if he could go on, for the pain was far worse than anything he’d ever felt. But then he remembered that he had come this far; the very climax of the fight. If he was to give up now he would not forgive himself.

GO GET 'EM PIP!

Casting his gaze over his shoulder, Pippin caught the sight of one of his friends standing upon the sands. It was Saoirse, the freckled boy from the Oasis. There he stood, cheering him on! It was only days ago that the hobbit gazed into the palm-surrounded pool, convinced of his loneliness; what a contradiction.

And now, here the halfling stood under the eyes of an entire mountain, the jaws of a monster he never even dreamed of sneering down upon him, having plucked him from the sky—
Yet still, Pippigrin remained unafraid.

Volterra had spoken once again, booming words of caution and advice to the small creature who gave a saluting nod in approval. He hadn’t listened the first time; that much was clear. No more attacks overhead, stay close to the opponent; noted.
Still somewhat hampered by the sting and throb of his wing, and then the numbing, thudding pain from his hind end, Pippigrin tip-toed slowly around his opponent in an attempt to search for a weakness. How was he supposed to attack this thing from the ground!? He was sure to get stomped on!

There was one spot that Pippin knew as a weakness. A spot no one else could reach…

Biting down upon his lower lip, the ice coloured eyes of the halfling glanced sneakily to the sanguine irises possessed by his nemesis, though, only for the sharpest of moments. Tucking his wings flat against his barrel, the little lad scampered forth underneath the Indomitable, flattening his ears against his neck as he bared his teeth.
“AAHHRRLLL-“ He growled as his blunt row of incisors reached for the prize. Not the sheath, but those wonderful, plump, testes. Balls, nuts, bollocks, knackers. Testicles.
Once his brutal attack had been carried out, the hobbit darted from underneath the black mammoth and gave a booming taunt.

“LIKE THAT!?”



attack; 3/3
words; 741
summary; pip is pulled down by vols bite to the tail; is injured in his back end by a slightly dislocated dock. He then sees Saoirse cheering him on and gets super excited about that (this post here; http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=26866) , and goes snapping for volls balls! :O
@Volterra  ENJOY SNOW HAHA @Saorise for mentions




art: © x coding: © x

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
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
#7


YOU CAN'T STRAY FROM WHAT YOU ARE
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 ]




Pippigrin Posts: 77
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
#8












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!
This brought the smallest of smiled to the boy's face despite the roaring collection of pain that ranged from his wing to his dock. He'd escaped from under the monster, a man who was perhaps three times his size in both weight and even height. While he hadn't left him in any kind of mess like Volterra had done to him, there was much to be proud of. Perhaps one day he could attack with that kind of damage, tolerate that kind of pain, and master any move in the book.

Luckily for Pippigrin, his beast of an opponent was not angered by his choice of attack - or rather, he managed to contain it.
Standing to attention, wings held over his barrel at the ready, the guardian listened intently to the black one's word of criticism and instruction. Watch his muscles? what did muscles tell you about an attack? Pippin was quite sure that not evne the gods could anticipate what would happen in battle, though he gave a nod anyway; too fearful of asking the giant to repeat himself to seek clarification. Besides, pretending he understood was something he did every day.

While it grew increasingly difficult to walk, the blood trailing from his wing becoming somewhat distracting, Pippin attempted to keep his body low as he traced his way around the mammoth in preparation for an attack. Watch his muscles, just like he said.
Eyeing the Sultan's hind end, Pippin soon found it swung his way. Without much warning, a great kick was being sent in his direction, one which he had, in fac,t managed to anticipate to some degree. Escaping from it had been the issue. Stumbling upon an awkward set of stubby legs, the halfling was clipped in the shoulder by one of the sarp, dinner-plate sized hooves owned by his king. A brief cry was uttered, blood was spilt, though still the stag stood tall.

Looking up to the man, waiting for another scold, Pippin decided he'd had quite enough for today.
"I think I should go and see the doctor..." he mumbled, a puddle of blood now pooling at his hooves.


CLOSING DEFENCE
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Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#9
20 HP difference. Volterra defeats Pippigrin. Volterra earns 1 VP. Pippigrin earns 1 EXP.
 HP: 1100

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