Regulus

Big bright red paws padded heavily along the edge of the rolling plain better known as the Battlefield. The sapphire and gold pendant glittered under the late summer sunlight, jingling gently on its chain. His sapphire eyes swept the plains. "Bheadh sé seo a bheith ina áit deas fionnuar, más rud é nach raibh sé clúdaithe i fola." He muttered to the cat on his shoulders. Cinder gave a soft mew of agreement, large blue eyes gazing around at the devastated corpses of wolves who had met in battle for the death, and lost. Far more blood than theirs stained the earth, left behind by less fatal battles. The air hung thick with summer heat, left over aggression and adrenaline. Regulus could practically taste it. He felt his heart-rate speed up a bit. It was his first taste of this place. He wasn’t absolutely head over heels with the feeling, but he wasn’t hating it, either. This was going to be his personal test of himself; he wanted to see where he was in skills, if he could hold his own against a stranger in a spar. His puppish side crowed that he could take on the world with one paw tied behind his back. His smart side said that he was going to lose, most likely. He slowed to a stop, looking around at the expanse. Currently, he and Cinder were the only live beings present on the Field. Would anyone come to his call when he made it? He craned his head around to look at his friend. "Ba chóir duit dul dócha bhfolach sa líne crann. Níl a fhios agam más rud é go mbeadh daoine eile de mo chineál is mian leat an oiread agus is a dhéanann muid, Luaith." He offered with a little smile. He didn’gt want her getting hurt if another wolf decided she looked like a tasty morsel rather than his companion and best friend. Cinder nodded and dropped from his back, lifting a paw in disgust as it, and all three other feet landed in a slow drying pool of blood. She didn’t need to be told twice to get off the field… She’d just gotten her paws clean, for Darkness’ sake! Regulus waited until she was at the base of a tree at the very edge before he circled around, looking for a clear spot, free of blood or rocks. It was easier said than done, but he succeeded in finding one, at the top of one of the rolling hills. He spread his toes, digging his claws into the dirt a few times. He felt a little foolish being out here. He was just a pup, even though he was already so big and tall. Maybe whomever came would be nice, nice enough to teach him as well as sparring him.  He’d just have to howl and see. He settled into the squared and balanced stance his mother had drilled into his mind since she’d started training him, tilted his head back, and issued a howl. He had to admit that he was glad it didn’t crack, squeak, or do anything else to embarrass him; he wasn’t vain, but you have to admit that talking and suddenly having your voice squeak out of control was pretty annoying… Especially when your sister laughed at you. His muzzle lowered and he waited, ears swiveling to listen for any who might approach. He was nervous, but he was ready to go.

Thick with the scent of blood the air that lingered around this terra spoke of the battles that had been fought here.  Skælingr had taken to hanging around the battlefield in the hopes of soliciting a spar or two and tending to his physical needs.  He'd grown far to sedentary this past season.  While still irked at the size growth of the canine population it did have it's advantages. Normally the tiger would tower over the average wolf but every day he'd see more and more wolves creeping closer to his height.  It would make for more interesting battle and also called for the need for practice.  Skælingr had not battled wolves in ages and with their upward growth and size it was becoming more and more of a necessity.  While most wolves gave him a wide berth there was always the chance he could find himself in a serious battle. A howl caught the tigers attention as well as the subtle scent of another feline, small though and foreign.  He could not place the beast but the howl was definitely that of a wolf.  Excellent!  Making his way to the source of the call he soon came in sight of a tall red male, young but fit and a good size to.  How delightful. Fangs glinted as he smiled and dipped his head in greeting.  "I suppose I am not what you expected but I do wish to practice myself.  I do not mean you any lasting harm."  Ears twitched and tail ficked as he sized up the young male before moving to set up his defenses.  Fur and hackles stood on end as the beasts striped head and tail moved to align with his spine.  His eyes narrowed, ears pinning tight to his head as he tucked his chin just slightly.  Massive shoulders rolled forward, neck scrunching back.  Skælingr widened his stance, evenly spreading his weight, limbs coiling to lower his center of gravity.  Toes spread, claws unsheathed in preparation for attack.  His back rounded slightly as he prepared to spring. "I shall take the first move." As the words fell from his lips Skælingr would launch himself forward as he attempted to close the distance between himself and the ruddy youth.  The tiger attempted to approach the wolf directly head on, aiming to lift his upper body and re-distribute his weight in his hind legs as he attempted to throw the lower center of his chest into the upper center of the wolf's chest, hoping to slam his massive weight into the boy with enough force to knock the breath from the wolf and cause heavy bruising.  At the same time as he attempted to throw his chest into the youth he would also attempt to raise both forelimbs to try and wrap them around the wolf.  He sought for his left foreleg to wrap around the right side of the base of Regulus' neck so that he could sink his left fore-claws in between the boys shoulder blades, seeking to get a grip on the wolf.  His right forepaw, with claws fully unsheathed, would seek to slice into the flesh above the spine, about five inches behind the shoulder blades in an attempted swipe to drag his claws all the way down the boys left side and back to the ground. Simultaneously, Skælingr's neck would shift to his own right, head twisting in to his own left as he attempted to bite the wolf's upper left-sided neck, just behind the jawline.  Upper fangs seeking a grip over the boy's left ear, lower fangs seeking to pierce the flesh at the corner of the boy's left-sided jaw.  Skælinger sought a vice-like grip from which he could quickly subdue his opponent.  The boy might be young but Skælingr did not wish to underestimate an opponent and in practicing for the greater skilled it was best to fight fully.  Pulling punches would not help either of them improve. Skælingr vs Regulus for SPAR Rd. 1/?

I think we can definitely say, no need to Judge this? XD

Regulus

Regulus hadn’t long to wait before a huge, feline-looking and smelling creature stalked into view. He heard a faint mew from the trees as Cinder spotted the tiger. He wasn’t going to deny that he felt a bit of fear trickle into his stomach. It felt like a thread of ice had snaked into his belly and wrapped around his heart. As the tiger greeted him, he could only nod in agreement at the statement; no, he had definitely not been expecting-- What? The big cat had just said-- BAM! Okay, so his first spar wasn’t going at all like he’d hoped. But exactly how he’d expected. In fact, over the top of his expectations. He’d been so puzzled by the big cat, that he’d forgotten that he was there for a spar. That lapse in memory hadn’t lasted long, but long enough. The cat had sprung, and silly Regulus hadn’t braced for impact, or tried to dodge the six-hundred pound battering ram tiger. A large, heavy bruise flowered across his chest as the big cats breast smashed into his, and, as the cat had intended, his breath whoofed out of his lungs in a startled grunt. In all honestly, he was lucky that he hadn’t braced for impact, because the power of the cats weight hitting him squarely sent him rolling backward. Claws sliced through his left shoulder, leaving four moderate slashes in his flesh, the other set ( thankfully missing their mark, though taking blood red clumps of fur with them in place of blood or flesh, as Regulus skidded backward a few feet, having been bowled onto his back by the force of the big cats attack. The teeth that had been aimed to subdue him missed their grip, instead ripping a mild tear in his left eartip, and a mild slash along his left lower cheek. Regulus lay on his back, winded; and as clear as spring water, a thought popped into his head; I am not ready for this caliber. And there is no dishonor in backing down, now. It’s just a spar. Aloud, he called out, once his wind had returned enough, ”I submit!” His voice even had the decency not to crack, or squeak. His shoulder burned, as did his cheek and his eartip. Except for the boar, and crashing against the shore of the southern continent, this was the only time he could say he felt real pain. Stubbing his toes on the den floor, or falling nose first to the ground after missing his sisters in a pounce didn’t really count. -::- Regulus vs Skaelingr for Spar Submitted.

The fight was over before it had barely begun, Skælingr's chest slammed so violently and suddenly into the boy that the wolf with flying back and mostly out of the reach of his raised forelimbs though he still managed to slice into the boy's left shoulder. Fangs clipped the boy's face but for the most part they snapped shut over air. Skæ quickly shifted to bring all four limbs back under him, coiled and ready to spring again but it would seem the boy had had enough. He yelled his submission and the tiger sighed. Now that he was closer it seemed the boy was far younger than Skælingr had first suspected. These dam ala wolves and their unusual height. Skæ watched the boy processing the pain, it was becoming rapidly clear that the wolf had never really fought much before. "I accept your submission. It seems I over-estimated you. Is this your first time in battle?" ""