"UP AGAINST.... THE CATAWAMPUS!!!"

Like a Roman lion of legend, the titular "Catawampus" beast comes pounding through the open door, skidding into the arena. It bares fangs upon entry and lurches its spine upward, spreading its wings -- a territorial posture for a winged feline to assume. Still, for the observant, some of the intimidation factor is replaced by a cuddly charm, as the beast's face still appears to be quiet... kitten-ish!

It has been... somewhat trained for the event. Told repeatedly that confidence and gratuitous violence are key, that insults should be thrown around to weaken the opponent's resolve or fluster them into making careless mistakes. Balder's advice will probably prove to be vital, but her teaching method is very... inattentive and hands-on. All this to say, the Catawampus has not done much beyond gore some Lessers, rob a Carnival stall, and nap with exceeding efficiency.

Despite the lack of harsh training, viciousness tends to come as instinct to Alrik's bloodline. The creature will begin with the most vicious thing it can think of: charging forward to make a flying leap for its opponent's face, claws extended and stabbing arms unveiled.

A hoof came for its face, and the Catawampus does not have the time nor the mind to get out of the way. No, every move forward is an opportunity for further attack! BLOODY RETRIBUTION!!! At least, that's what the Catawampus had picked up from Balder and close-quarters combat pseudo-lessons. The Catawampus itself would have worded it differently, but we're not here to read its own thoughts, only my observations of them -- anyways.

Taking the blow is harsh, especially for a kid! But it does its best to grin and bare the pain, except without grinning yet. Now there is an opportunity, in this mad scramble of a battle: the Catawampus intends to hang on. To accomplish that, it must sink its claws as deep as possible into the flesh above the stone and refuse to relent. Had it not just been kicked in the face, it might have used its jaws for the task, but... face hurty.

However, here is something any cat-loving onlookers may note: yet another marvel of the feline anatomy, their pseudo-thumbs are built for latching onto prey!

Oh no, retaliation--

I imagine lions get bucked often, but held down by the hoof of a boar? Not so much. For several reasons. Boars are too dang competent man! Anyways, the Catawampus learns about as easily as a cat, or a toddler, or both. One or two hoof stomps are not yet enough to generate that delightful Pavlovian association... maybe after today they will be though. The instinct is still to hang on, to cut deeper until that hoof is entirely unusable.

So into the ground the Catawampus would be smushed! It is briefly winding, and certainly dizzying, but the creature appears to be in full Fight mode. Call it clingy, but there is a message to be seen there: either back away, or destroy yourself on the claws that catch.

It can't keep its claws in any longer, or push them any deeper, it just doesn't have the... strength, or perhaps the endurance for that yet. However, its method of latching seems to have made the pig fall over!!

So... I mean, what now? Well, what does the Catawampus want to do? The pig's in a vulnerable position. Perhaps it will be best to try killing him, and if he submits before then, the Catawampus will simply have to play by the rules. But how will it convince the pig that he is, indeed, in mortal peril? This is not a concern of the Catawampus's, since it does not yet know of or understand the tireless disposition of its opponent. The Catawampus has no concerns beside its own survival, although its next attack attempt might suggest otherwise.

The Catawampus releases the knee and now attempts to reach and slice the throat of the boar.