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This post contains potentially sensitive material:

violence

gore

Bone shards cut deep into her gums, but the shriiiip! of leather was nearly sinful. Draconua could have listened to it all day, that sound—and the wheezing of the body on top of her as she took it apart. That cat and meat-beast had been easy to dismantle, but this... ? She was struggling to breathe with all this weight pressing her ribs in and in, and there was the natural (hah!) instinct to thrash, whipping tail kicking up sprays of sand. A metastatic sort of electrical pulse was buzzing through her teeth, kicked off by the irritation of sacs along a dorsal line. Each breath was a labor of terror, of horror, but it was so, so sublimely worth it.

The Sleepless Chaos spat out what remained of such a glorious sail, licked at her chops, and grinned in response to Galleon. Her tongue buzzed to the point of numbness, too. How strange!

Galleon's teeth once again cleaved flesh, and this time it came with the feeling of a joint popping out of place, her arm going limp at the shoulder and muscles unable to twitch in such a way that'd allow her to roll it back in. Draconua let loose a howl as the sandshark rolled off of her, and wheezed despite the newly relieved pressure on her lungs. Forearm rolling away at a painful angle and sand caking the weeping wound on her neck, the Valkhound yowled. Oil spilled from her eyes, streaming like steaming-hot tears.

But, ah, she did not weep for the agony ensuing.

No, that was rage.

Without regard for getting closer to tearing her own arm, the hulking monstrosity floundered onto her belly and then toward Galleon. Half-standing on three limbs, Draconua practically threw herself at her disemboweled, fleeing prey, eyes alight even in their pinhole sockets. If she had her way, she'd trap this beast on her back, expose that delicate underbelly again, and in a moment...

Oh, how sweet the meat of a throat would taste on her tongue.



One thing at a time.

ROUND 5/5

35%

ATTEMPT: Roll on top of Galleon/pin her down
INJURIES: All previous lacerations (healed between rounds), sand in eyeholes, bruised chest, pinned down, chunk of flesh bitten off side of neck, dislocated shoulder and deep bite on forearm

@Galleon

violence

gore

Galleon was having a bad day. The alligator roll, which had been good in concept, really hurt when she rolled on her stomach. And on the roll up, Draconua landed on her, crushing her intestines even further. The stump where her fin had been continued gushing blood into the sand. She thought it sucked pretty bad. Once this was over, she'd take a nice, long nap. She'd find some corner in that nice sand cave she'd heard about, and just live there. Eating passing rabbits or something. Did that cave have rabbits? She'd find out soon enough. Maybe even grow her fin back. Yeah, that sounded good.

She wheezed, blood trickling out of her mouth. She was pretty helpless on her back like this. She couldn't maneuver as if underground. And the thought of the agony of rolling onto her stomach again, to try and escape, let alone diving and rubbing her innards against sand, was definitely a no go. So, like a particularly short necked snapping turtle, Galleon opened her mouth, prepared to launch at and hold onto, if not take a chunk out of whatever came near.

ROUND 5/?

25%

ATTEMPT: counterattack drac?
INJURIES: pinned, disembowelment, missing fin, blood loss getting worse

@Draconua

you probably know the drill by now...

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

violence

gore

There she stood: limbs half-straddling and -standing atop her foe, forearm hoisted high and limp by the the skin of Galleon's teeth still buried in it. A hind foot had tangled itself in the tangled-wires mass of intestines, slicking over with blood. Oily black sputtered from her mouth, her neck, her entire being in sheets, mixing in a spill of blue skies and terrific Chaos. Steam puffed from her maw; a stifled, muffled wheeze punctuated every breath forced through strained lungs and crushed ribs.

Draconua stood utterly destroyed.

But, even as Galleon peeled the cleaver from her flesh—peeled it away to reveal where arteries had been severed and freely spilled her lifeblood, her essence with a new spray—she stood. A minute backwards jerk was all it took to avoid the snapping for another part of her.

The Sleepless Chaos half-fell on top of her opponent, dislocated arm offering no support now that it was free, but as she went down, it was with her own snapping teeth. Their sights honed on the flesh of a neck; an eye for an eye. Blunt teeth would make it an arduous effort, but such an opponent would only be felled by having her throat torn out, mangled, destroyed.

A static fuzz of vehement violet and chartreuse flitted over her vision as she lurched down, and tugged backwards like a terrier with a small rabbit; even as little but air caught between her teeth and her body started to give out on her. Gravity declared that she should fumble, topple sideways and back onto nothing but blood-soaked sand.

ROUND 6/6

20%

ATTEMPT: Tear Galleon's throat out
INJURIES: All previous lacerations (healed between rounds), sand in eyeholes, bruised chest, chunk of flesh bitten off side of neck, dislocated shoulder and deep bite on forearm, several severed arteries

@Galleon

YEP

violence

gore

Draconua's maw lurched for her throat, and despite the agony, Galleon floundered. And by luck, the teeth did not pierce. But her still knitting cuts from One ached as her thrashing split them again, fresh wells of blood beginning to form. Galleon gasped, her spiracles whistling in time with her heart. She shuddered, cold enveloping her. It was only when Galleon heard the 'thumf' of Draconua's body against the sand that she thought to look her.

And there Draconua lay. Her vision swam as she focused on the dragon. Galleon had little idea of how Draconua had fallen. Just what she would do the the other giant. Galleon's teeth gnashed. If she were to endure agonizing pain until stone take her, so should her opponent. She flopped onto her side, enduring the bloom of nausea. Feeling the cooling blood coat her side. Galleon wasn't aware who's it was. Then, with an awkward half swimming motion, used her limb and tail to flop closer and closer to Draconua. To her belly. Black spots swarmed her vision. She coughed, and it might've been a laugh.

She was only aware of her own hot breath, and Draconua's exposed belly. She split her blood speckled jaws, saliva mixed with blacks, blues, and grains of sand. With as much strength as she could muster, she tried to drive her teeth into Draconua's belly. Hopefully it'd be one last wound to remember her by. Hopefully, this hellish pain would end soon.

ROUND 6/6

20%

ATTEMPT: hail Mary attempt at mutual disembowelment
DEFENSE: list defenses
INJURIES: still disemboweled, missing fin, probably blacking out soon from bloodloss

@Draconua

DEATHMATCH

It was only when Galleon's stone began to reclaim her that Nemean lurched back into action. She'd been leaning forward, mouth wide, staring at the match.

A single straw fell from her mouth. It was pink and swirly, and plastic rather than paper, as befit a tiny monster. Nemean didn't notice; she was too busy jolting high into the air, taking a deep breath-...

"YEEEEAAAAAAAAAH! HOLY SHIT! DID EVERYBODY SEE THAT? I HOPE YOU ALL WATCHED CLOSE, BUT JUST IN CASE-"

Nemean shot out over the open arena, and snapped the tiny fingers of both hands. To the deafening fanfare of trumpets, a huge illusion formed high above the bloodied dust: a giant instant-replay image, in brilliantly-colored bright 3D, of the gore-trailing Galleon twisting--in slow motion, of course--with Draconua's limb in her stone-crushing jaws, and Draconua tumbling down onto the great sandfish massive jaws first, snapping, tearing... Sparks of light that imitated blood flew out to spray into the stands, fading before they quite splattered anywhere.

The image faded to a rising drumbeat, and spotlights swept down in a mad circle, fixing at last upon the combatants. "NOW THAT WAS WHAT I CALL A DEATHMATCH! THAT WAS AAAAAAAWESOME!" Both the combatants had been, too: giant monsters thrashing each other in the dirt... wasn't that what Deathmatch was all about?!

"AND OUR WINNER... THE SLEEEEEEEEEEEPLESS CHAOS... (Hang in there Draccy, I'm almost done!) -DDRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCC-" (Nemean paused to gasp for air) "-OOOONUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAA!"

_____________

DEATHMATCH WINNER: DRACONUA

Character: Draconua Age: +5 (66030 Cycles, Capped) Magic Level: +7 (Transcendent Master) ROUND 1 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: - Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - Total: 88

Character: Galleon Age: +5 (8 Cycles, Capped) Magic Level: +3 (Brawler) ROUND 1 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +6 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +13 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +19 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: - Penalties: - Total: 60

NUMERICAL WINNER: Draconua

Fight judged until Round 5, the DEATHMATCH! round limit.

@Draconua @Galleon

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

Hm.

Wasn't that just a familiar feeling, now? The nerve endings hadn't been deadened or even numbed by the previous incident of her nearly being scissored in half; and that ignited a terrific sort of agony that wrenched a genuine wail from Draconua's throat. Oil sputtered like sizzling tears down her faceplate—with an intensity rivaling that of her overly high blood pressure spewing the dark substance all over Galleon's teeth and jaws.

Viscera tumbled out easily, now that the supportive linings and skin and hide were gone. A heaping pile of Chaos-plagued offal formed on the floor, still attached at either end and convulsing with the remaining digestive movements caused by Creosote. The Sleepless Chaos hurling herself to her stomach, then her feet, elicited another sickening squelch! as sand crusted meat (as easily as peanuts would a sugar-dipped lotus fruit.)

The motion'd been reflex, uninhibited response to the assault: to stand and make her own retaliation. Offensive measures, punishment.

But stone already swept to overtake the sand shark, and her claws met its hard shell with a shriek—or was that her own gurgling cry of frustration drowned out by Nemean's crowing victories? "DO NOT WAKE AGAIN."

Before her own body could decide it'd had enough, the Valkhound gave another bellowing roar and sweeping lash at the forming chrysalis—sending it skidding through the sand and toward whatever unfortunate fool had the job of moving it out of the way. Her skull was drenched in Oil and flash-evaporating blues, yet the bloody crimson beneath stood stark, glinting in the light as she dragged her own entrails to the backrooms.

The foul beast of Order had done a better job of disemboweling her than that.

exit Draconua, unless stopped!