Its leg was pried free from the maelstrom of teeth, flailing weakly before returning to the sand, the weight put on it sending immediate ripples of sharp pain through its body. The wounds still burned without teeth, the now empty space replaced by sandy air of Leo. Despite the change in the target's position, the path of her lunge only required minor adjustments.

Jaws closed around her, closer to the front end than it had anticipated. It had worked in its favour - Rena was unable to retaliate. The furious clacking of pincers echoed in the closest ear.

It occured to her that she didn't actually know what she'd do in the event of her victory, a thought that struggled in the oil that sloshed in her head. It moved to press the worm against the sand, moving a forelimb to stand on top in order to pin Rena to the ground. Afterwards (and if Rena's struggle was in vain) it could gather what little ideas it had on what to do with her.

But instead, it slipped on its own oil, toppling forward and allowing Rena to wriggle free as its chest collided with the sand, wounded back leg screaming with the weight and collapsing as well. It fell to its side, breathing hoarse and heavy.

@Rena

ROUND 5/5

ATTEMPT: Pin her against the floor
DEFENSE: nope
INJURIES: several minor cuts on its lower legs, shredded back leg

Disgusting disgusting disgusting. Rena gagged, grubby flesh convulsing underneath her cracked armor as Oil was slicked all over her once-Ordered form. But that same Oil became her salvation as, in the middle of an attempt to pin her down, the Valkhorse slipped in it and tumbled to the sand. Rena felt a moment of savage satisfaction as she dragged herself free, wings trembling with exertion. See--this is what Chaos gets you!

But there was no time to gloat, for Mother had a Mission for her. Rena felt her loving presence in her mind, encouraging her to lead this disgusting creature toward Ursa for some Special Friendship Time. Very well--now was her chance! While the Valkhorse was struggling with its little Oily Problem, the worm scurried back the way she'd come. Back toward Ursa. Where Friendship was waiting for the horse, should it choose to follow.

She didn't even have to fake being tired, wounded, and vulnerable. Didn't have to slow herself down on purpose. Though Rena despised the weakness in herself, at least there was some level of comfort in knowing that the best way to act oh-so-tempting to chase down and kill was by actually being oh-so-tempting to chase down and kill.

@Pickles up to you if you want to follow or nah!

Round 6? or we could end the 'official' fight here and gm tag for judging idk whatever works best!
Attempt: run off toward Ursa!
Defense: the ant queen's warm maternal love to soothe her pain. mentally, at least.
Injuries: broken wing, cracked exoskeleton in various places, bitten

The worm slipped from her mouth easily, scuttling out of reach - she hissed in some expression of an unknowable emotion. Black blood marbled with external oil, its only distinguishing factor its lack of an iridescent glaze. It dripped down its ruined leg.

It expected a counter, that horrid shredding feeling again - all it felt was sand. All it heard was the sound of many limbs shuffling away; No final clicking of mandibles, not even a threatening screech. The oil-horse, having been allowed to, righted itself, and began its march towards Rena.

It was not a clever thing, it did not occur to it that she might be baiting her into a far more gruesome fate. It wanted answers. It wanted her skin. It followed, stumbling and limping in a pitiful way, undeserving of pity though it was. A choking voice coughed up words (somehow). "CO-me... back." Pleading, on the verge of tears - not like it had ever stopped crying. "It is un-FIN-ished."

@Rena

OOC: Happy to finish the fight here - it won't be able to catch up to Rena unless she chooses to slow down / stop. Pickles will follow her to special friendship :))

Character: Rena Age: +8 (8 Cycles) Magic Level: +1 (Fledgling) ROUND 1 Attempt: +15 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +3 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +2 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +6 Penalties: - Total: 49

Character: Pickles Age: +1 (1 Cycles) Magic Level: +1 (Fledgling) ROUND 1 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +4 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +11 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +19 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +1 Penalties: - Total: 57

WINNER: Pickles

@Pickles @Rena

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

[cooking worm]

Rather than pity for the freshly-hatched Valkhorse, Rena felt only disgust. It was not a child--it was a monster hell-bent on destruction. Look at it, stumbling in its own wretched Oil, weeping the black liquid from its every pore, crying pitifully for Rena to come back so they could keep fighting.

Soon, she thought vengefully. Soon you will have your Special Friendship Time.

Step by step, she forced herself onward. Ursa was only a tunnel away. Mother was only a tunnel away. And she would have made it, too--she liked to think--if it hadn't for those blasted geysers fogging up the Tunnel D entrance with so much steam. The superheated steam blinded her, seeped into the cracks in her armor and scalded her flesh, sent the same dizzying fog dissipating across her mind.

She tripped over her own dragging, broken wing. She fell.

Ironic, wasn't it, that her stone would consume her in the very same tunnel where her predecessor had met its end? Rena writhed, sending up splashes of boiling water all around. A horrific scream burst from each mouth, screeching with the sound of scraping glassy chitin as steam and superheated water enveloped her, working its way inside her exoskeleton and boiling her from the inside out. As Rena steamed and popped and a vague scent of cooking grub flesh diffused into the humid air, all she could think was: I'm sorry, Mother.

She hadn't been able to bring the Valkhorse in the end.

@Pickles - exit Rena to chrysalis

It followed blindly, blood and oil trailing in droves. Steam began to bloom were they traveled, it noticed, but it did not register it as a threat or obstacle, simply an interesting feature of the landscape.

That is, until, the grub disappeared within it. It could not make out much, just a vague shape in front of her dropping suddenly out of sight. It blinked, pausing to figure out what exactly had happened - when its thoughts were interrupting by her piercing, bubbling, boiling scream. A strangely enticing smell wafted through the air. "Hel-LO? Come... b-ack." But it knew it was alone again - and it began to sob.

It stayed like that for hours, bent over and wailing, choking on its own grief. Was it afraid of being alone? Did it miss Rena? Did it mourn the lost opportunity to kill her herself? Who knows. Who cares.

The sounds would fade, and it would begin to limp away in silence - prompted by nothing but its own thoughts, as if it was simply time.

exit the Pickler