[WRESTLING] Khavur Vs. Galleon

Khavur had already been standing in the ring, swaying subtly like an oak in the wind, waiting for Galleon's arrival. It was without word or gusto.

As soon as the opponent's head breached the surface, Khavur's analysis of the enemy begun. First of all, land swimming. Khavur had never seen such a concept before. Secondly, large head. Big mouth. Probably wise to avoid that. Big body to accompany it. Large fins likely for directing motion—what happens if those get lost? A train of thought for another time, and most likely another place. This wasn't a deathmatch after all, and Khavur would be wise to remind himself of that. Probably about the same height and size as he was. This exterior of the creature looked tough as rock, though perhaps not impossible for a monster with claws like himself to breach.

But that was the question, wasn't it? If this is not a deathmatch, then what is the aim? How much violence is appropriate? Khavur would obviously have to reign himself in, as would his opponent—but by how much? The perfect amount of violence to win. When it came to bigger battles like this, that was a balance they all sought to strike. And what was the win condition, exactly? And how could Khavur get there, with his limited space and tools?

Someone so similar in build to him would be difficult to wear down. How to make it admit defeat? Or perhaps, since there was a judge, it was more about demonstrating ability and style. Khavur certainly had ability to show.

Breathe. He needed to relax. His panicked scrambling around mere moments before the match had started had gotten out most of his excess adrenaline. He needed to focus now. The first move was his. What move to make?

She had the ground, the subterranean part Khavur had no way of reaching, and he had the sky. If both of them ran in such opposite directions, the match would be uninteresting to watch. Another factor to keep in mind. But staying on the ground would inevitably lead to her taking the advantage. In a normal scrap—as in, say she was secretly Ordered and Khavur was not—they likely wouldn't even fight each other unless they had no other choice.

So then, best plan of attack to keep him in the lead? He would have to stay airborne as much as he could maintain, and search for a weak point opportunistically from the sky.

Battle plan in mind, Khavur bowed to her wordlessly in solemn greeting. Unfortunately for Galleon, Khavur wasn't always much fun. Then, the giant tangle of limbs and heads would move, steadily at first, then breaking into a run. A charge. At a certain point, his large wings would begin to beat, and Khavur would attempt to launch himself over Galleon's head and into the sky, clinging to the nearest wall of the arena. Granted his ability to make it up there and land, Khavur would cling to whatever hand holds were available in the stone and reorient himself, setting up for an attack from the sky next round.

When Galleon had called him a creature of few words, Khavur responded with a thoughtful expression and a curt, ”Not usually.” He just didn’t know what to say. And, he was not really here for conversation.

Smart! She had called him, while foiling him perfectly. Her tail slammed into him like a club and knocked him right out of the air. Khavur stifled a grunt. Flight, it seemed, was too obvious. And yet, every second his feet touched the floor, he remained on her turf. Her advantage.

What if his feet were on something else? Where else was there for him to go? The walls were off limits so long as he was in range of her tail. But backing up to try the same thing would likely lead to an uninteresting chase. What else was an available surface?

…Wait.

Galleon might have seen his head twisting around as he attempted to shake himself off and get back up. Then, they would land… on her.

First, of course, he still had to get out of reach. Khavur would quickly try to reorient himself and trundle out of her reach as fast as he could manage, on foot.