Alpha hissed, "then make room." So, Phlegethon... made an attempt.

His head moved out to its full reach, and swung to once side. The body beneath it shifted weight from one side to the other, and the pendulum careened through the air. Perhaps, it was too fast, because all that was achieved was such a pathetic smack!

The orthoclase narrowed its eyes, snapping after the head before it zooped away again.

Round: 4/5?
Attempt: Catch his head!
Defense:
Injuries:

A hundred (or so it felt like) jagged teeth shredded into the hide on the back of his head, and he wailed around them, "no injury!" The grip wasn't crushing, but enough to spark that instinctive thread of alarm that said death is imminent. Warning lights blared in his mind, slimy points ridging into high points and wobbling.

Thrashing his head downwards and bucking up, Phlegethon twisted. Vargas, at least, had employed strategy over brute strength and bullying. (And he hadn't had the dice completely against him, then.)

He needed to get these teeth out of him.

Round: 5/6?
Attempt: Buck and smack Alpha with those flukes.
Defense:
Injuries: Minor punctures on head, currently being held by Alpha.

It huffed, breath hot and fanning across Phlegethon's neck; if this was serious, I'd have OBLITERATED you by now. But, instead of baring down yet harder, the orthoclase stayed steady. It'd learned its lesson about pushing the envelope and biting off more than it could chew when it came to these larger beasts. There had to be strength squirreled away somewhere in this swamp-beast. It was still holding back (and not at all limited by inexperience with combat or the fact that it was fighting on land rather than its natural digs.)

Alpha tensed as its head was yanked down, taking an involuntary half-step forwards before - meeting about two thousand pounds of weight thrown upwards at its stomach. It whipped its head up (freeing Phlegethon, at least, from all of the crooked teeth) and grunted sharply, claws curling into the mud.

Round: 5/6?
Attempt: Not budging too much?
Defense:
Injuries: Stomach hurty.

No movement off - but that was alright.

Phlegethon knew he was outmatched, with all of those extraneous limbs and feet. So, the plan? Get on even footing and refuse to be wrestled out of it like Vargas had. The purple behemoth had an immense size advantage on his side, as well as extreme leverage with those arms. This one was heavy, sure, but not quite so suited to clawing its way to the surface.

So, it shuffled backwards, sliding through the muck and attempting to snare a leg on the way out. "Hold your breath," it warned, and hauled towards open water.

Except, of course, it missed. It was escape, anyways.

Round: 6/7?
Attempt: Drag Alpha underwater.
Defense:
Injuries: Punctures on head.

Phlegethon slipped out from underneath it once given the opportunity, gave a false warning, and slunk into the murky waters. The faint glint of labradorite in the light was the only indication that he'd stayed. Wary, hanging back. Completely comfortable in the water.

The gears clicked into place at once, and Alpha spun with a blink. Quills pricked with a leftover adrenaline surge, and its conscious ran a million miles a minute, of course it wasn't able to strike back. It's suited to water and escape. Something that moves quickly in the depths and attacks quietly. In combination with its own design, maybe... soldier in land and sea.

It paced along in the shallows, "I'll hunt your Strider." Half-baked apology there, Alpha. Toxic eyes fixed on the glimmering blue light, "but, you'll give me a piece of your stone in return." What's missing? Blink. "It does not hurt." Allegedly.

Round: 6/6, because I'm honestly tired of writing this failfest, bud.
Attempt: ignore that roll lol
Defense:
Injuries: Stomach hurty.

It was not following him. It must be afraid of the water. Or, perhaps, worn out - judging from the stuttering breaths that crawled over his skin; which, was still forming rigid points that continually wobbled and were swept away by the water surrounding him. Anxiety rode high.

The stop order was unspoken, and received. It merely spoke, as if they had not been scuffling a moment prior. Phlegethon hummed softly, lowly - almost simmering. "I do not fight well," he boomed, admitting, "not where one walks and breathes." His head shifted slightly on the water's surface, more borrowed voices swimming through the air, "I could not show you like I did your Vargas. We matched in the water."

But, even if he'd lost the apparent "fight," the Strider was still on the table. Appealing. Food-motivated, Phlegethon haggled, "three Striders. None with stones." To be eaten over time, of course. You could practically hear the clockwork in its brain churning. "Why do you need Me?"

"You don't," it sniped point-blank. Quills pricked, and it tossed its head. Yet, neon eyes widened in thinly-veiled disbelief, "you fought Master Vargas?" Certainly, it'd have to have been before his... recreation - ? Unless, he'd gone completely easy on the swamp-beast (and, as it knew, that was not something he typically did.)

Alpha clenched its jaw. "Three." Head shifted slightly as it fully-faced him, "it's necessary for testing and producing." As I'm sure you know, said the tone. "Give it, and I'll come back with your food."

No more room for negotiation.

"He called himself an Overseer. I do not know what group he was from," Phlegethon hummed, "you and he walk the same path?" His gleaming-red eye surfaced, scanning and coming to a realization: "you are born from him." Somehow, it had not put two-and-two together.

Sinking back down into the inky-black waters, the eldritch horror considered. It had not parented before, but merely given magic to stone and let the other Rot-Child Septiezal take a paternal role. The instinct was cold and dead in it. Food was offered. A meal for something easily-forgotten.

"I will feel if you betray," it growled through the mud, and edged forwards. Rather than simply push magic out, the swamp-beast drew it in. There was no show or anything of the such: a clean break in the stone and a miniscule shard falling into the mud.

Phlegethon didn't remain much longer, slinking down the row of reeds and out of sight.

exit

Overseer. Their spar had been some time ago - perhaps even before it'd been conceived. Alpha stared down at the humming beast, nostrils flaring once. It had been spawned from his magic; "he is my life-giver," it stated plainly. Not its father, not its mother. Desert Rose Thirty-Five had said something, once, about parents and names for them and that Vargas would be considered its father. It'd never dared to try and call him anything but his title and name, and had been given mild reprimand for referring to Elyon as its mother.

The swamp-beast split a minuscule piece of its stone and took its leave with a bellowed warning. It'd ultimately be useless; Alpha had intentions to keep to its word. No need to make another enemy for itself and its Master, and no need to be upset about an opportunity to hunt something other than rats and rabbits. A Strider - or four (one for itself, of course) - would be a welcome change of pace.

Alpha scooped up the shard with its teeth, and trudged straight towards the exit.

At the doorway, it deposited the stone on the ground. Prior worries were crushed beneath its adrenaline-filled heel, and it impulsively deposited a well of magicka into the labradorite. It glimmered with the stored energy, and swelled to fit the cover of reeds and mud. Alpha couldn't help but to stare at the iridescence for a moment. Gleaming, immense compared to other chrysalises it'd seen - the first test.

Quills prickling, the kaiju headed towards Canis.

exit

Character: Phlegethon Age: +20 (20 Cycles) Magic Level: +3 (Pupil) ROUND 1 Attempt: +5 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +17 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +5 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +1 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +17 Penalties: - ROUND 6 Attempt: +6 Penalties: - Total: 74

Character: Orthoclase-Alpha Age: +6 (6 Cycles) Magic Level: +5 (Champion) ROUND 1 Attempt: +16 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +15 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +7 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +15 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +11 Penalties: - ROUND 6 Attempt: +6 Penalties: - Total: 81

WINNER: Orthoclase-Alpha