"Master Vargas?" It had not been long. Not long at all.

It had not desired to wait long, even if sometimes it did feel a little creaky and sore. Pain was an uncommon thing for the Reaver to pay mind to. It felt awake enough, and it wanted to get back to the life it had missed out on.

So it was to train, right? Summon Master Vargas and train, prove its strength and be set free. Prove that it needed not the guidance or protection of a titan. Right? It wanted to learn outside the walls of Draco. There was so much out there. Perhaps beyond this cave it might meet itself...

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"Here."

The response was a solemn one. The Master was monitoring the oilstone he'd planted life into; studying it, observing it. Had he succeeded? Would their Lord be appeased once again; would the Forge, and the caves, still be safe... relatively-speaking?

One long forelimb was outstretched, 'hand' resting on the black chrysalis. Nothing. He could sense nothing. Was the heart not yet formed-? Or was the creature growing within dead, the chrysalis in this Womb doomed to drying into a hollow husk? Or had his magic simply failed to pick up a faint touch that was truly there?

With a soft exhale he pushed back, four limbs now planted on the ground, and glanced toward the voice. While the creature in the stone was meant to be a monster of the night skies, this one had been his first, failed behemoth. A monster that could not hide, with a toxin that wasn't poisonous.

Vargas had never--not once--addressed these failings, which were his own, and not the Reaver's. And he had yet, even, to find a purpose for the beast. So far, so far as he could tell, Khavur had escaped Lord Dhracia's attention.

He hoped it would remain that way.

@Khavur

"Master Vargas." Khavur dipped both heads to the Leviathan. "I... have come to report that I feel rested." The large-horned head was the one it was using to speak. That was the one it favored when addressing Master Vargas. The protective, the aggressive, the one looking most like one of his soldiers. "I would like to train, if I am allowed." It felt blunt, like too little. Khavur felt more than that, would like more than that, and yet it didn't feel like it had the words to say all that it felt and wished for. Not without giving something precious and private away.

Khavur wondered what it was to learn. Hunting, killing, those were its first lessons upon hatching. It had been cycles since hatching, evidently. How many Khavur could only really tell by the growth of its siblings, as one tells the age of a tree from its rings. It was an emptying experience, truly. To have been born with purpose snatched by the jaws of its own failure as a creation, then to have slept through everything. Would it awaken again to the face of its own nothingness? Or would there be something it could learn now, in this new time?

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He turned fully, facing Khavur. He exhaled through his nostrils, and nodded, pushing other thoughts aside in favor of this. In favor of business.

Toxic eyes sought out his spawn, and locked there. "I have taught you of striking for the weak points--throat, inner thigh, wherever you may find a blood vessel, though anatomy differs. Of breaking joints by snapping them against their angle. Of using an enemy's momentum. I have taught you to bleed early, and to let your enemy wear itself out and bleed its strength away, and that a single small wound in such a manner can easily spell death. Today, I have another lesson for you."

He rolled his shoulders, limbering up, turning to pace around Khavur, eyeing his spawn up and down. "I have told you that if you trained further with Orthoclase, you would earn your reward of travelling the caves, learning. This one," and he nodded toward the black chrysalis, "will hatch within a few weeks, unless I have failed badly. Fight me now, learn this lesson that I have to teach you, and you may go and travel in the meantime."

Vargas paced away, each movement fluid, practiced, the smooth and sweeping steps of a creature of thousands of years of combat experience. Then he turned back, facing Khavur--and braced himself.

@Khavur

Master Vargas seemed to be prepared as ever for training and business; command and execution. Khavur nodded along curtly to his words with the large-horned head. The small-horned scanned the area, looking like an idle daydreamer. The weak points it recalled, the bleeding and the twisting to induce weakness and effective damage as well. Using an enemy's momentum, yes, that it had also committed to memory... many of these techniques it was pleasantly surprised to have stored within its internal library. The bleeding especially it recalled, since its own flesh barely understood the feeling, even if it was experiencing blood and gore. That was a weakness... almost entirely as much as it was a strength. Without pain, Khavur was relentless, and a fool.

The Reaver felt a hunger and an eagerness at the mention of their deal, and also at the observation of Master Vargas's movement. This... they were to fight, then? Khavur's large-horned head looked as directed -- towards the chrysalis -- while the small-horned locked onto Master Vargas, following his movements. Khavur's movements began to mirror Master Vargas's, but with noticeably more rigidity due to inexperience. Fighting was not Khavur's forte... nothing was, as far as it knew. Not yet.

Thinking in a fight it could do. It had two minds to do so. For now, one -- the small-horned -- observed, while the large-horned processed. Master Vargas wasn't going to make the first move... so what was the right first move to make?

It couldn't just go barreling in. It didn't have the size or force to outmatch Master Vargas's, so Khavur would likely be turned into its own enemy. There was an element of hilarity in that-- so what to do then? Perhaps it could start from a distance, and inch its way closer. Keep the momentum to a minimum, provide little to use -- oh, and be mindful of the world around.

Khavur reached out for some kind of magic to use, something to fling out of nowhere. Khavur reached out... and chaos reached back.

And, unfortunately, did nothing of interest at all. So here Khavur was... continuing to circle about Master Vargas. It winced. Honestly more of an attack on its dignity than anything else.

Round: 1/?
Attempt: GAMBLE FOR AN EDGE! Just keep circling nervously like the sad little Reaver you are.
Defense: Mmm... pacing and attentive + some pretty rough hide, quills, spines, the good stuff + wings tucked in for better land movement
Injuries: None but I imagine this will change :,3

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas gave Khavur but a beat. Then he lunged, his entire bulk thrown forward at his top speed, nothing held back.

Khavur may have had issues feeling pain, but Vargas had no issues inflicting injury. Moreso, he wanted to quickly wear his student out. To pin him, restrain him, to force him to submit. There was nothing slow about this attack, nothing of the teacher in it--this was not a movement made for Khavur to observe, and to learn from. It was the genuine, lightning-quick strike of a massive predator.

He kept his head tucked so as to protect his throat, and his jaws were mostly closed--it was not a rending, ripping attack. It was, however, a lunge meant for damage--for knocking the wind out, for bruising, for battering, an all-out throw of body against body.

Round: 1/?
Attempt:
Defense: Head tucked to protect the throat
Injuries:


letting Don incorporate the crit fail into Khavur's next post, by permission!

@Khavur

Master Vargas-- Vargas-- He-- It-- Lunging forward, the precision of a predator, the mercilessness of some unfeeling shadow -- feel it, beast, this is your maker. Not your match.

It came crashing into the phantasm of where Khavur had been. Where it was not any longer. Lunging to the side, another mirror or mimicry of its Master, the Reaver had avoided the strike. And now... for the counter.

This would not be a distanced fight. Khavur knew it didn't have the strength to bend a joint to any effect, nor the momentum to bludgeon the titan. Khavur knew it was outmatched, most if not all of its strikes would be pitiful attempts. The only way to even the field even slightly was to weaken him... but how? A part of the Reaver screamed at it to try "the only option left" -- pierce the flesh, cause a wound, start him bleeding and then evade and avoid until he was drained. But Khavur wasn't sure it had the sharpness to pierce the structure of the Master.

'his senses aren't like mine. how much of a scent can he stand? NO, THAT'S RIDICU-- i have to give it a shot.' So Khavur would attempt to fling its tail at the problem, aiming to slap Master Vargas's face with the quilled appendage and hopefully get as much non-lethal cherry "venom" as possible into those deadly eyes of his.

Round: 2/?
Attempt: Slap Vargas's face with the tail, hopefully getting some cherry juice into his eyes & nostrils :3
Defense: Pacing and attentive + some pretty rough hide, quills, spines, the good stuff + wings tucked in for better land movement
Injuries: None yet!!! Surprisingly!!!

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He hit the ground surprisingly hard, with enough momentum behind him that he nearly struck his chin on the rock below. He turned, still crouched low, briefly baffled--how had Khavur moved so quickly? It was impressive, it was-

-a tail sweeping for his face. With a wicked spine he himself had formed. It was a brief 'oh, shit' sort of moment, seeing the spine lashing whiplike for him, and Vargas barely had time to snap out a limb in reflex in an attempt to grab it--and, using its momentum and quickly adding a second hand, to yank. If he managed to snag it, he'd try to jerk Khavur in the same direction he'd been swinging his vicious implement, and hopefully pulling him across the ground, if not off his feet.

Round: 2/?
Attempt: Grab tail and yoink
Defense:
Injuries:

@Khavur

For a moment there it really looked like Khavur had almost had it!!! And then-- snatched. Shoot.

Khavur could guess what was coming next.

The yank at his tail was strong-- shoot, Khavur was stumbling! But was falling on the ground really a worst case scenario? 'YOU NEED TO STOP, YOU HAVE NO IDEA-- action first, then reaction.' Khavur attempted to stick one of his deadly sets of claws out to the side, hoping to stick it into the Leviathan's hide. The maneuver was awkward, certainly didn't help him balance, BUT! If it worked, it would mean that all the force Master Vargas was using to yank Khavur would also be used to rake Khavur's sharpest claws across his hide. That would either make him stop or bleed big time... hopefully.

The awkwardness of it might actually topple Khavur on its side, but it didn't seem to care. It wouldn't feel the pain. And, if Master Vargas held true to his own fighting basics, bleeding would only make it easier to predict Master Vargas's next move. Khavur was reckless... perhaps that was a good thing.

As a side note in the beast's mind... it was unsettling, thinking of Master Vargas's flesh as the flesh of any rat or other prey animal. Something to pierce, to draw blood from. All its life, the Reaver had placed the titan on the pedestal too high to see. Was fighting close quarters what brought people down? Down to the same level? Perhaps, if that was so, Khavur could take more interest in studying the art...

ENOUGH THINKING! FLEX THOSE CLAWS!

Round: 3/?
Attempt: Make it so that as Vargas drags Khavur, he also drags Khavur's claws along his own body
Defense: Some pretty rough hide, quills, spines, the good stuff + wings tucked in for better land movement
Injuries: Tail yoinked ): + unbalanced

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had not intended to drag Khavur anywhere near himself--only to swing it with its tail's own momentum--so to find claws suddenly raked across his hide was unpleasant, to say the least. He jumped, the sudden pain of claws in flesh--well, painful; he could feel blood spilling and knew that the Reaver had torn past more than skin.

With a guttural growl he leapt back, but the damage had been done, stinging pain leaving toxic-bleeding streaks smeared along his side.

There were quiet hissing sounds as the acid that was his lifeblood struck the rock in droplets.

He sprang, then, for Khavur--it was clawing him, and he hoped to hit an opening left while its limbs were reaching for him, to simply tear and rip at whatever he could reach, violently, brutally. Each six-clawed hand, and its enormous arm-spines, thrust for the Reaver in rapid succession, all Vargas's muscle behind it.

Perhaps it would not near-vanish, again, with that astonishing--admirable--agility it had shown. Why is it not flying-? he had just enough time to think.

Round: 3/?
Attempt: Do a lot of ripping damage
Defense:
Injuries:

@Khavur