[DEATHMATCH] Khavur x Pollen - Printable Version

Nemean's rancorous calls came as a minor annoyance, a thorn in Khavur's side, as well as a breath of relief! Master Vargas had encouraged them all to go, to try their hands and claws. They all had something to gain from it. The hope was that this would be entertaining, and good experience. But there was gravity to the situation... and if any Chaos Forgers got paired against each other, it may well be like two planets smashing into each other. Cool, from a distance... lots of flying debris up close.

It had come swiftly along with Maximus, had eaten its fill of delicious confectionaries (this is important for the sake of the cherry juice and venom), and had pondered the "grand entrance" it was supposed to make. When given the opportunity, Khavur could be very stylish, and its reverse-camouflage lended to being seen easily. Would that inspire others to laugh at it...? If it could give them some display of power, then perhaps not...

KHAVUR, REAVER OF THE DARK ABOVE!!!

The doors swung open. Khavur had decided to display power over agility, and thus it lumbered into the ring. Its execrable form would be heralded by the war drum of massive footstomps and the shift of armored tail against dirt. Once it was in full view it would lift its front half with its killing claws for the appearance of added height, and toss its heads up and unleash two beastly, discordant roars from each head. Coming down with a thud!, the Reaver's heads would shake to disperse droplets of venom around the arena. Wings would flex, eyes would narrow, and it would hone in on the opponent at last.

Lo and behold! A little green bean.

...Shoot.

Memories flashed, going from the meeting all the way back to Khavur's hatching. Ohhh this could be bad. This could be very, very bad. Alternatively, it could be something of a learning opportunity.

The surprise could not be wiped off the Reaver's face, although it could be somewhat disguised by Khavur's lack of facial expressiveness in general. It decided against moving forth, leaving what was to happen next up to her (and hoping against all hope that she would not force a chrysalization for herself).

She was getting antsy. Why, she hadn't even really thought about doing this- just a, hey, this would be a good learning experience, a good time to get actual, controlled fights in, before she hunted down some rebels.

But now that she was here, now that she saw the severity of some of the other combatants, she was getting anxious. She'd taken to pacing backstage, her paw at her lips, worrying over and over again about the strength of her vines. Each arm had its own trailing vine and another wrapped up along her biceps, just in case one got ripped out- but what if it wasn't enough? What if the plants marring her skin ripped out blood with their roots? And it was as she tugged at her enchanted bead, worry settling into the back of her mind, was when she'd been ushered to the other side of the coliseum.

It was time for her performance. She just hoped it would be good enough.

Dropped down on all fours, Pollen paced as the fight was about to begin, her digits digging into the sandy ground. Would Aethril be watching? Who would she battle? She let out a shaky breath as her heart hammered. A muffled call rang through the arena- Khavur. The name, she recognized, and her throat locked. If they had been called, then it would be her turn next.

"POLLEN ROSE, THE GARDEN KNIGHT!"

That was her cue. The moment the doors were open enough, Pollen shot from the gates, sprinting out like a greyhound. One leap- another, and she skidded in the sand before her opponent, a plume of dust rising in her wake as she stood tall.

She would be no match for Khavur.

Oh, no.

Still. Rolling her wrist, Pollen got a good hold on her whip, grinning up to the two-headed Reaver above her. She had to put on a good show, didn't she? Lowering her stance, Pollen put one arm between the two of them and rolled her whip some more, letting it lash against the sand like an angry snake.

"Let's have a good fight, huh?"

Sucking in a hard breath, Pollen jumped into motion, her body spinning like a dancer as she aimed to swipe her right whip right across one set of eyes- or, really, anywhere she could reach with her weapon.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas "sat" in a seat that he knew (from ancient experience) had one of the best views in the house. The Collector was not far off; Vakornol and Nemean too. Ahh-! Here was Khavur-! Against...

The Hand's gardener?? He supressed a snort, firing a glance at Nemean--was this her idea of a joke?--but she wasn't looking at him. Did she actually think that tiny green shit had a chance?!

Vargas raised his voice to a bellow, leaning out over his worn stone perch--"DESTROY IT, KHAVUR!" Memories of savagery (wound so warmly by cameraderie) swelled into bloodlust as he shouted. "DESTROY THAT LITTLE THING!"

Did he care, just then, that the Valkhand's gardener was at risk, that her very life might be taken? -No; if she wanted it alive, she should've kept it from the DEATHmatch arena. In here, rank didn't matter; in here, it was every beast for itself.

And Pollen was hardly the size of Khavur's head.

Vargas sat back, suppressing laughter, and tossed another seven-thumbed handful of popcorn into his mouth to crunch.

Little green bean, Pollen Rose the Garden Knight, came out kicking up dust. You know, Khavur was impressed by her showmanship.

Vargas's "encouragement" went unheeded. Khavur had no intention of killing her... but making a show, yes, that it could do. "Let's," the Reaver responded, a smirk creeping onto the small-horned head's mouth.

With violent speed and accuracy, a vine whip came flying at Khavur's eyes. It was not the best start against a creature such as Khavur, who would not be blinded by the pain or impacted all that greatly by the loss of a set of eyes, but props to Pollen for keeping her distance!

Khavur decided not to try and dodge or block that attack. Why should it have to play defensive against her? The whip would hit a set of its eyes -- good shot! -- and that set would close, the beast letting out a sort of pained rumble (for theatrics sake).

She was going to have to lose that distance now.

Since it was only the beginning, Khavur would start "easy". It would attempt to whirl rapidly to one side, swinging a cherry-scented tail like a massive club headed straight for the little green bean. There were a few ways to dodge the attack, or perhaps break the impact of it... but if she did neither, she might get all the little bones in her body utterly crushed.

Pollen's head jerked towards Vargas's voice, her own stance stumbling in surprise. The Master was here? "I'd like to see them try!" she cried back as Khavur retaliated.

There wasn't much time to try and figure out what to do. With a tail that long, she couldn't leap backward, and it'd be a feat to jump-rope it, but... With a surprised yelp, Pollen leaped perpendicular to it, arms outstretched to latch onto the incoming threat.

If she couldn't dodge it outright, then the best she could do was to embrace it. Her hands aimed for the thickest part of Khavur's tail, aiming to latch on and hold for dear life.

Khavur had made that move as a test! And it was honestly a marvel how well Pollen had grasped it-! Khavur could sense her little body latched quite adeptly onto its tail, how tightly she clung. An admirable show of strength and all, but... not intelligence. What Khavur had hoped she would do was use that small-bodied nimbleness and strength of hers to avoid the attack, but now that size and that grip might well be her downfall.

"Good reflex, Garden Knight, but incorrect."

And with that cryptic warning, the Reaver would attempt to slam her into the ground with its tail.

Incorrect? Just you watch! Latching on hard, Pollen yelped as Khavur jostled their tail, struggling to keep hold and move all at once. There- a slam down, and there was a moment that Pollen could race up, digging her nails into the beast's thick plating.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it," she barked out, attempting to situate herself in the dip of their back, right between the wings. A dangerous position- hell, they could flip over and crush her, but she was aiming for something else.

Self-annihilation. Or- well, not full death, but maybe they'd get frustrated enough at not being able to hit her and tap out! Who knew?

Proof positive, right here, that little didn't mean weak.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES KILL THEM!!" Nemean screamed, the spotlights dancing frantically across the arena. The music swelled, and a loud thudding drum began to pound.

Of course, the other one was Vargas's creation, right? (Pfft.) Well, fine--Nemean just wanted blood; it didn't matter whose. Not really. A good fight was a good fight! Entertainment was ENTERTAINMENT.

"SLAM HERRRR!" -- and tiny fists beat against the golem's head, Nemean's perch, as she leaned eagerly forward to watch.

For spice, she flung both hands forward; a rain of blood red confetti descended across the arena, flittering and dancing down like bloodied snow.

In a regular situation, Khavur probably could have ended this in seconds. But... it wanted to test the whelp, see her abilities, and the task at hand was to make this interesting.

But that failed tail slam was just embarrassing. If Khavur didn't distract the audience with something else soon, its position could be at risk. Master Vargas was watching, waiting! So much more than pride was on the line for the Reaver, and it just did not think the same was true for Pollen.

What could it do now that its blood was starting to boil? Buck her up and bite her? No, that was the easiest route, the most monstrous one that Khavur was trying very hard to avoid, and even that wasn't a guaranteed possibility. She was situated by its wings, which gave it the incentive to fly... Perhaps Pollen might enjoy that. Perhaps they might all enjoy that. Really test that grip of hers. The bloodied confetti might make Khavur more slippery, too. Thanks Nemean!

So, in true Shadow of the Colossus fashion, Khavur would attempt to hurl itself on any vertical surface and springboard into the sky, starting upright but flipping upside down as soon as possible. Basically, welcome to the Bucking Bronco, Pollen! You're a real cowboy now!!

Khavur surging to the skies took her by surprise, and she yelped sharply at the muscles bunching under her, sprinting and taking off. The moment her steed had started to move, she whipped out her arms and held on with her legs, trying to grab onto some part of the ram horns or neck or something with her whips to stay on.

It wouldn't be much, but she tugged back when a whip connected with the hard bone of a horn, jumping forward to latch onto the (comparatively) more grabbable surface.

Her stomach lurched as Khavur bucked and her vines started to slip, her legs falling out from under her. Like a kid afraid of heights playing in a jungle gym, Pollen let out a scream- if she fell from this high up, there's no telling if she'd survive! Plus, with Khavur flipping over, one wrong move meant slipping straight off of the flying beast and plummeting to her doom.

No- she would hold on, she would show them she could do this! If she could survive this encounter, then she could survive any rebel she'd come across! Kicking her legs uselessly, Pollen struggled to keep her grip on both the horn and the vine tying her to it, clutched on for dear life.