ORIGIN

While Vargas was standing, arms up to throw the bone and miss by a mile, Agate dove. They tucked their wings, sweeping down low with incredible speed toward the dusty earth, spreading their wings as they nearly hit the ground, tail sweeping against the ground like a rudder as they threw themself toward Vargas. The last thing they saw before flying into the Overseer's shadow was him rubbing at his chin.

This was a risky play, putting them dangerously close to the numerous dangerous quills that coated the Overseer's underbelly. However, they were gambling on the fact that Vargas wouldn't expect them to charge, and again they could get another hit.

It would be a bit better if they could do proper damage, but for now they merely aimed for Vargas's ankle, throwing their body toward it at an angle to knock it out from under Vargas-- counting on his lanky, heavy body to be his downfall.

They connected, slamming into what felt like maybe the closest thing to a soft spot Vargas had, their momentum sending them out from underneath their competition. Relieved not to be in a position where they could be squashed as they skid into a pile of bones, they flared out their wings and turned with a clattering of marrow under foot.

Vargas was, despite his massive size, not a bulky beast. He was agile, and Agate, for all its fury, weighed less than his head alone. Its body, then, hurtling into his leg, gave him a brief stumble of surprise--and given its speed, he could feel it'd leave a bruise--but a quick shift of weight and position left him easily upright.

He turned, his rigid face twisting into a grin, as he began to pace--swift, but unhurried--toward where Agate had crashed into the bones.

"A good attempt," he offered, wondering if its bones were hollow, and if the impact had broken any; "-but what now?"

Its quick-thinking and unceasing ferocity were both good; it was bold, it was fast, and it was fiery. Vargas liked that, in a candidate. But it seemed to have no real way to damage its opponents. It had that new set of mandibles, and spikes--but thus far, it hadn't put them into use.

Was this all that it could do, then-? Fly, and throw things--including itself, it seemed--at others?

Agate-- wait, when had they started thinking of themself by their gem, again? Gatto clicked their mandibles together, eyes glinting at the challenge imposed. "What now?" They clucked, "you've barely put a scratch on me, remember!" It was obvious that they both were pulling their punches a little bit, weren't they?

Well, Gatto had been eyeing those quills for a while now. They didn't want to injure Vargas badly-- and the Overseer had a tough enough hide that the only tempting place to do damage was those glistening eyes. The Masters were fans of taking trophies and prizes, so what more daring could they be than to try and steal one of those nasty little spindles from Vargas?

It was a pretty terrible idea, but if it was anything like getting a talon torn out, it would probably hurt a good deal without overstepping the 'no maiming' rule, right? Agate charged again, wings flapping, and soared over Vargas's head with talons extended (a dangerous endeavor to say the least) and swept over the array of dangerous quills toward the base of his tail, where the quills were less... numerous, and less likely to turn them into a pincushion if they were too slow.

They lashed out a talon and, aiming to snatch at the base of one of them, tried to tear out one of Vargas's pretty, glowing quills. They managed to clamp down around one of the larger ones, right by the base of it, and with a sharp twist, managed to pull it free without so much as brushing against the others, tearing away from Vargas with as much speed as they could muster before Vargas could retaliate.

"Show me what you can do," Vargas insisted.

And then, Agate was in motion.

It was fast, he noted, again--blindingly so, and as he spun to try and keep facing it as it dove over him, he felt a short, sharp pain at the base of his tail. With a snarl, he lashed the tail upward--the cockatrice had yanked one of his quills right out, and rage briefly blinded him. This had been a spar, and this was still nothing in explanation of the creature's abilities.

...Plus, that hurt.

His reaction was quick and vicious, an aim of the tail itself to crack, whip-like, into the cockatrice as it zipped past, before it had time to fly any further on.

From Gatto's perspective, they had done plenty of showing them what they could do-- perhaps it was not exactly what Vargas had been looking for, but then again, Vargas had not done much--

Oh, crap. Speaking too soon. The tail clipped the cockatrice out of the sky, smacking their wing ajar and sending them in a tail spin to the ground.

"Hah!" Gatto squawked, spreading their wings out and raising a talon to show off the pretty, glowing spike they had snatched from their foe. "I'd say that counts as a win, hm?" They boasted, perhaps a touch unwisely giving the nasty snarl that Vargas had given.

... But, on the bright side, if the Overseer was disappointed in how they fought an enemy that was significantly larger than them (aka, smartly), then maybe they would underestimate them in the future. After all, Vargas hadn't really tried to kill them. As thankful as they were for that, it did make the fight seem a bit silly.

Vargas turned, peering quizzically at the cockatrice.

"No," he answered bluntly, and then strode over, holding his right hand out palm-up, as if expecting Agate to put the quill into it--which he did.

"Though I suppose finding a fair fight for you would require something... smaller. I wished to see what sort of damage you could do, now, with those--" and he briefly gestured at the mandibles, here. He didn't bother explaining all of his reasoning; that it was his job to know what the candidates could and couldn't do; that he prided himself on knowing their strengths, their weaknesses.

Agate struck him as a creature that scraped by, but was not useful for any real combat. It certainly wouldn't hold up against larger enemies. And any proper attack put it too close for comfort.

As he studied it, he mused aloud: "I am surprised you do not focus on magic." Surely blasting flame, from a distance--it had been fire, hadn't it?--would be better? Flame was wonderfully destructive.

The cockatrice was-... not. And it was too large, too loud and too loudly-colored, to be a good spy, or a messenger. "Can you work on that, do you think?" he suggested, mulling over possibilities in his mind.

Character: Vargas Age: +6 (6 Cycles) Magic Level: +3 (Brawler) ROUND 1 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +3 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +5 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +12 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +10 Penalties: - Total: 53

Character: Agate Two-Three-Six Age: +6 (6 Cycles) Magic Level: +3 (Strategist) ROUND 1 Attempt: +11 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +11 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +17 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +10 Penalties: - Total: 78

WINNER: Agate Two-Three-Six

Ah, as Vargas approached, the cockatrice stood tall, eyes bright and gleaming. Where the Overseer saw faults and flaws, the bird knew them as strengths. They didn't bother holding on to the quill-- though they found it kind of funny that Vargas wanted it back. It's not like he could put it back, right? They returned the barb back to its owner, before spreading their wings and giving a large, almost mocking bow.

Gatto squawked a laugh, shaking their head out and letting the feathers along their neck fluff out beautifully. "Well, if I was to fight you for real, I'd have to go for the eyes-- but that's unsporting!" They clucked, a but chuffed with themself even if the Overseer was disappointed. "I suspect these maws would make a mess of anyone's face."

The suggestion to work on their magic seemed... Well-intended, they supposed. In their experience, the fire magic was self destructive, and likely to backfire-- maybe because they didn't practice it much, but it took a lot of energy, and tended to hurt them as much as their opponents. It made much more sense to be a bit quicker and more clever than the competition, rather than lean on magical crutches.

Still, it couldn't hurt! "Naturally! We should all strive to be the best we can be!" They cawed up at the oversized predator, in the moment struck by an inspiration to try and summon up some hot air. Their magic didn't seem particularly thrilled with that, as they ended up coughing instead. They turned away, putting their beak into an outstretched wing.

"Ack-ah-Ahem," they cleared their throat, "I will see you around, I'm sure!" Bidding Vargas adieu, they took to the air and fluttered off before they could possibly lectured or pulled into some other... experiment.

Gatto exit!

As Agate offered back the quill, Vargas grunted.

He then reached back and did exactly that: jammed it back into place in his own tail. There was a quiet, cracking squelch, as if he'd had to break his own skin to do this, but he gave no sign of discomfort.

Maybe it was normal, for him.

"I would not advise getting that close to my jaws," he answered drily. This thing--how had it survived this long? It had a lot to learn about fighting. He couldn't remember what they'd used it for, in the past.

Its spirit, perhaps-? It was certainly game enough, or so it seemed. Unrelenting, even.

With an internal shrug, Vargas looked up--only to realize that the cockatrice had gone.

Ahh, well. Perhaps he'd find some use for it in the future; but at least it had promised to train. If it had ranged magic, it would certainly be more useful.

In the meantime, he had other business to attend to.