[DEATHMATCH] Erebos x Twisted - Printable Version

The first match of the event, and it would be some poor being pitted against Erebos- self-proclaimed monster hunter in training. Or, well, that's what he was in his mind, at least- situated with the Forge to train and kill monsters.

He hoped that's what Nemean pitted him against. Something big, like that beast in Cetus, perhaps. Curling about himself, Erebos waited for the call, rows of sharp teeth bared for the world to see.

Bring it on.

From outside the confines of Erebos's waiting room, Nemean's voice boomed for the matchup, excitement ripping through the arena walls- or, was that magic? Erebos's heart thrummed in his chest as the call rang out and the doors creaked open, revealing the unravelling beast that Erebos was.

"First up, a cunning beast, straight from the ice worm of Hydra- EREBOS!"

Surging out, Erebos dragged himself from behind the doors, slamming through the sandy dirt below. A long his arose from him- he would defeat this Deathmatch, and he would win. He would be able to kill any monster that came in his way. Stretching up as far as he could, Erebos balanced on his thick tail and wavered like a cobra, all of his bristles rattling as he took in the crowd, challenging them to fight, too.

Oh, Erebos could not wait to destroy his opponent.

Back from Hydra so soon?

"AND OUR SECOND! The cold-hearted hunter, born thirsting for blood -- TWISTEEED!"

Well, there was no way she was missing out on this.

The feline stalked out from the shadows across from Erebos. Her face was scarred, her tail broken, her eyes narrowed and looking for violence. She was pitiful compared to the Naga, but she didn't care. She was going to win this battle or die.

There were no theatrics for her. Twisted simply raised her head with a yowl and charged forward, claws unsheathed and ears back. Once she crossed the distance she leaped upwards, a paw wheeling back and around to strike at the serpent's exposed face. She wasn't wasting any time.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The Leviathan leaned forward, eager. Sure, he was a "judge" here, but that was more in the way that he'd be judgmental. Okay, technically he was supposed to help decide winners in the case of something unclear but "death" match usually decided its own. It was in the name!

Right now, popcorn in hand, Collector off to one side, he was busy staring at the pristine, swept arena. At Erebos, barrelling in--Ahh! One of ours! he thought. Nemean was starting them off strong. Erebos was a newer member; one he hadn't had much time to work with, yet. And the Forge had brought along half their membership, it seemed, to fight here in the pits today. (Unwise, when one thought about it; he needed more members, not several dead ones, but maybe getting themselves seen would spread the word for outside recruitment.) Anyway, a cat came out.

Vargas blinked.

He hardly had time to register it--to realize it was just a cat--before it streaked toward Erebos, claws glinting in the spotlights. He sat back a little in surprise, feeling the screech and thump of the heavy metal in his bones, wondering if the little feline had a chance. The very tiny, in his experience, could reasonably fight those of equal size or those so large they could run circles around them. Not things, really, of middling larger size, which he judged Erebos to be... But it would be interesting to see.

He took up the ages-old chant, his bellowing roar joining the music, his massive arm lobbing a little popcorn out at the combatants (it didn't quite make it that far, aerodynamics being what they were)--"BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!"

And then, a breath: "REMEMBER YOUR TRAINING, EREBOS," (though, again, it'd so far had little to none) "--FOR THAT IS A CAT YOU FACE!"

He didn't have long to take in his opponent (Twisted- an interesting name) before he was being charged, right for the one place he was so sensitive about. Fine- something small, too, he could take on.

There was a cry like nails on chalkboards when the mask was ripped from Erebos's face, claws barely grazing thin scars and opening up old trickles of blood across the naga's already ruined eye. No- Erebos had just gotten that! Letting loose a snarl, Erebos swung his arms up to the cat latched to his face, uselessly catching his claws in her fur in an attempt to pry her off.

As much training as he had, he hadn't particularly trained against something so small.

"So much for cunning."

First battle, a single sip of his drink, and the scorching heat at the back of his throat intensified. Diet on the more carnivorous side, he'd never been acquainted with such a taste before. It bit into his tongue, odd though it was to think of, in a pleasant way. And from there warmth flowed out, flooding senses. Submersed in a calm sort of delight, East plunged from nightmare reality to fuzzy daydream and, from his spot in the audience, tipped forward for a closer look at the action below.

The next scoff slipped easier than usual from his beak. "Do you fight with your face or your whole body?"

That Twisted cat had the upper hand for now, no doubt about that. The proof lay in the initiative taken, the swift strike while the other postured. If he didn't disapprove of the seemingly pointless violence, it'd be almost admirable, really, the brutal instinct on display. But the battle had just started, and maybe her opponent would discover a better tactic than fumbling with a face full of hissing feline rage.

Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom. Twisted had a clear shot at the naga's face. She didn't wince at the howl of pain as his protective mask shifted, or the frenzied calls for blood, or any of the other things going on. She simply focused her energy into (hopefully) killing this scaled menace.

Where were we? Right, on Erebos' sorta-masked, sorta-jostled face. Perfect position to deal some more damage. Twisted dodged his frantic attempts to pry her off, wheeled back a mighty paw, and slammed it down as hard as she could. Which wasn't very hard, for the record, but she was trying.

Erebos screeched at the taunting from the stands, his veins pulsing blood down his ruined face even more. He would not go down like this! Shark-teeth bared, Erebos twisted like a panicked snake (he essentially was one), struggling to pry Twisted off of himself with his nails. The fur was too much to get a good hold on in his own state of untrained combat.

So when the paw came slamming down on his mask, cracking it and slamming it into his nose before it jostled down, covering his free eye and essentially blinding him. Blood streamed down from behind the wood and stained it red inside, the one socket rimmed with the stuff.

"NO! The naga screamed as he tried to dig his claws into Twisted once more, to rip her off (at risk of self-mutilation) and swing her down onto his bristled tail. And if she landed there? Maybe, just maybe, he could get her into a hold and crush her.

But, he'd have to see what she did, first.

Claw. Writhe. Twisted winced as claws dug into her fur and yanked her downwards. A quick glance downwards told her everything she needed to know-- coiled bristles waiting for her on the other side. It didn't look like she could escape Erebos' grasp, but her claws were still hanging on just barely, and that was all she needed.

She pulled her claws out to their fullest extent and tried to pull them down his body, but forgot one crucial detail-- he was covered in scales. Her beloved talons made no dent against them. No! Twisted furiously thought. This was bad.

Erebos yowled when Twisted came down from his face, grimacing at the fresh pain of claws leaving their grasp. Blood was welling where the mask wasn't, and he could barely see by this point, everything a blur of misty red or complete darkness.

But he could feel the cat, and he could feel her writhing under his fingers. His grip was failing, he could feel that much, even with Twisted unable to latch onto his coils. It was too smooth- too smooth for what he thought, too, as he curled over too far forwards and felt her slide away from him, probably nearly unharmed by the backward-facing spines. His claws couldn't latch onto her coat.

His advantage was gone. Erebos screamed furiously, hands grabbing for air with Twisted nowhere near where he thought she was. How'd he lose his grip?! Where was his opponent! He couldn't see- this damn mask in his way!

DEATHMATCH

"OH my GAWD, KILL each other already!" Nemean's voice--shrill--rang through the arena. Erebos's hilarious excuse for an attack left an opening, and Nemean chucked her (highly alcoholic) slushy direction in the combatants' direction.

It hit Twisted, though.

And then it caught on fire.

Nemean squinted. "They don't usually do that," she observed, and then shrugged. "Ehh. Guess we have a WINNER! Flex or whatever and then get outta the ring, snake-boy," she added, and reached for her drink. Then swore, quietly, as she realized she'd just thrown the fucking thing.

_____________
DEATHMATCH WINNER: EREBOS

Twisted has forfeited the match due to inactivity.