Chess, Not Checkers

Running into Sirius had felt like running into a brick wall. The dire wolf barely moved, giving only a breathy grunt upon impact, but not much else. It was discouraging, but Artorias did not give up. He clawed at the Warlord's thick fur, claws failing to find purchase anywhere on his body—or maybe they did and he just couldn't keep his muscles holding on, he really couldn't tell. What he could tell, however, was when the world suddenly started shifting and his sloshed equilibrium told him gravity was betraying him. Artorias' alcohol-addled brain only began to comprehend that Seer had grabbed him and was toppling forward with him when it was far too late to do anything about it.

Artorias gave a cry of surprise that was swiftly smothered when he suddenly found himself pinned between a dire wolf and the ground. He tired to squirm, to kick and flail free, but Sirius had a size and weight advantage on him and he was using it to its fullest against him. "Noooo! Get offa meeee!" Artorias tried to squirm even more amidst a fit of laughter, but by now his vision had started to swirl and he was feeling more than a little dizzy, so struggling at his full capacity was a pipe dream at best. "No surrendeeeeer!"

"Artorias"