Yarikh vs Basilia
As the match before concluded, the maimed loser was rushed from the ring and a trio of coydogs quickly scrubbed the blood from the circle and laid a new layer of sand over it for fresh footing. Nitro strutted in front of the remaining wolves, then pointed to two of them. "It's time for the next exciting match!" he calls out to the spectators. "Anyone who steps from the ring loses, and the loser goes home with a new set of scars! All right, let's get this started!" Nodding sharply to Basilia he stepped back from the ring.
Her opponent was a black wolf that was a good deal shorter than her. Compared to her first opponent this seemed easier at first glance. Height was a definite advantage here.
As the coydog spoke she would take this time to set her defenses, she had heard these rules before what reason would she have to hear them again. She aligned her spine and balanced her weight on all four legs. Tucked her chin, flattened her ears, narrowed her eyes, tucked her tail in. She took every precaution, she didn't know what this wolf would throw at her. Her hackles raised for the intimidation factor although she probably didn't need it and her skin around her lips scrunched up to show her pointy teeth. She meant business.
Hearing the wing flaps of her Gyr Falcon companion as soon as the coydog allowed them to start she was off. She gave to other wolf no time to react and ran at him jaws wide open. Angling herself to his left she reached with her neck and jaws to try and grasp the scruff of the mans neck. Using her left paw to make a pointed jab in the direction of the mans left leg. He was going to leave with a memory of her whether he wanted to or not.
Basilia vs Yarikh for Maim (injuring of the front left leg resulting in a limp)
Round: 1/?
Height: Large
Size: Heavy
Companion 1: Gyr Falcon-battle
Fight skill:Beginner
Once more, the coywolves summoned Yarikh from the crowd, and the brute stepped forth with a single blink of his bottomless eyes. If not for the rest of the excitement happening around him, he might have come down from the rush of his last fight; instead, though, the air stank of blood and arousal, filling his nostrils just as the pounding of his heart filled his ears. His face was blank, void even of pain despite the fresh aches in his newly warmed muscles, but inside, he was sky high with adrenaline and itching to push himself a little further.
The rules were much the same as last time, except that this time, his health was truly on the line. Of course Yarikh was bound to gain a few scars from his first battle once all the scrapes and scuffs healed over, but if he lost to his new opponent, then he risked...well, from the sounds of it, more scars, albeit more serious ones. But he was no stranger to injury. Suffering had practically raised the man, after all.
However, that did not stop him from sizing up the rather sizable woman who joined him in the ring. And the bird nearby. She was not only considerably taller but heavier as well, which meant he had little room for error or misstep--especially if she also had eyes in the sky. Without hesitation, Yarikh squared up, paws splaying beneath loose and ready legs to dig into the ground. His head and tail leveled with his spine as his hackles bristled along its length. Ears flattened, eyes narrowed, and lips pulled back in a show of his freshly bloodied teeth. Finally, as they were released to fight, he brought his shoulders forward to bunch up his scruff and guard his throat. If she was not about to hold back, then neither was he.
As the female barreled toward his left front, Yarikh jutted forward and to the right, setting him parallel to her left side and, more importantly, placing his flank where his scruff might have been. Though her jab did not find its mark, her jaws landed there upon his flank, sending a snarl forth from his throat as he retaliated with his own waiting maw, which he aimed at the soft flesh of her left side, situated just behind her ribs.
"speech"
1/2
Size: Medium
Build: Light
Offensive Accessory: n/a
Defensive Accessory: n/a
Companion 1: n/a
Companion 2: n/a
Mutation: n/a
Fight Skill Level: Beginner
Specialty: n/a
The female crouched down with her rump in the air in an attempt to not move where the other wolf’s teeth were. She angled her head backwards so that her jaws were at a position to open and shut upon the males’ left front limb. Her intent to do so was there all the same.
At this time her bird companion would come swooping down on the male claws at the ready. Zabit would go for the very attack she had done on Basilia when they had first met. A solid claw scratch between the ears.
Basilia vs Yarikh for Maim (injuring of the front left leg resulting in a limp)
Round: 2/2
Height: Large
Size: Heavy
Companion 1: Gyr Falcon-battle
Fight skill:Beginner
It did not take but a few moments for their bodies to tangle in an awkward, bloody mess, but fights like this one Yarikh always found the most interesting. They required more than just brute strength and a thirst for blood; they required that one used their brains, their stealth, their uniqueness to worm their way out of trouble. In short, they offered the perfect challenge.
Yarikh knew his attack had succeeded when blood began to coat his tongue, and he used this as motivation to cling to his opponent, rocking his head left and right to better secure his jaws to her flesh. At the same time, though, he felt her own body bend and her teeth clamp around his thin-skinned left forelimb, making him wince and send a muffled growl into her fur. It was then that he also felt an assault upon his scalp and the sting of blood in his eyes--the bird. Great.
Throwing his left hind limb forward, pushing through his screaming flank as he did so, he hoped that his claws would catch on the female's face or snout; he would be risking far too much if he attempted to turn his attention away from her.
"speech"
2/2
Size: Medium
Build: Light
Offensive Accessory: n/a
Defensive Accessory: n/a
Companion 1: n/a
Companion 2: n/a
Mutation: n/a
Fight Skill Level: Beginner
Specialty: n/a
Hearing the snap she started to let go, no need to cause the man more pain than necessary. He would remember her now alright. Her bird coming down to rest atop her back and her ears rushing with the blood of adrenaline she didn't need to hear the official words stating her victory, she knew it in her heart.
Shaking loose any dust or blood from her body she straightened herself up and left the ring. She would have to break to look at her wounds before the next fight, but this was more than redemption for the fight she had lost earlier.
Perhaps deep down the man knew that he had lost, but Yarikh was not the kind to back down--not until the fates forced him to do so. However, despite his efforts to kick the woman off his foreleg, he felt her jaws dig in with more and more pressure until...snap.
No words. No yelps. Just a single deep bellow of pain left his lungs as he relinquished his grip on her side and collapsed onto his front left, where he lay for a moment in an attempt to ride out the initial agony. A hissing growl, a wince as he rolled his head over on the ground. It had been made blatantly clear that he was rusty in his skills, but now there was a question of whether or not he would be able to brush up on those skills...or if his performance would be permanently hindered from now on.
No. A broken limb was nothing. At least he was still whole. With a grunt the brute forced himself back up, balancing himself on his three good limbs before hobbling his way out of the ring, leaving in his wake a thin trail of the same red that coated his paw. Was he any good to Hannibal, now? he wondered. There was only one way to know. He needed to finish his mission and find him, now that he had had his fun.
"speech"