My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts
So much for his brilliant plan. A firm jolt as the head of the halberd slammed into the ground was almost enough to throw off the Pycon's grip, tossing him down into the dirt. All of the clay over his arms hardened as it tensed down and struggled to maintain its integrity - with all the weight behind it, limbs breaking off was a serious concern. Soon both legs hooked around the shaft as well - not a good position to begin climbing but at least it meant that he could hold on, for now. He wasn't counting on the spinning though.. or the shaking, the wobbling. At one point a sudden jolt shook his body hard enough to smash his own face into the shaft of the halberd, shaking his nexus violently inside.
Petch this. He'd find another way up; this was already giving him a headache. There wasn't even a safe way to get back down again, so he threw caution to the wind and let himself go to topple backwards a foot or two.
At least it meant he could tuck himself up as far into a ball as possible on the way out and escape with just some soreness pretty much all over his body. Better than being thrown to the other end of the Pits, getting his head squished up against a rock in the process. Unfortunately, it did leave the Pycon back at square-one; staring at Clemens and wondering, with nothing around him to climb or use as leverage, how he was supposed to really do anything. His whip was all the way over-- oh. He tried to remember where the whip had been tossed in their earlier tussle but the throw had disoriented him. In fact, it was barely a step or two away.
Lucky me. The throw had unraveled the leather though, so as he picked up the handle and watched Kos reasserting himself, the squirrel slowly begun rewinding the twenty-or-so coils back against the handle.
This whip was pretty much the best way to take advantage of their size difference.. or at least, stop Kos from taking advantage. Being small could be a blessing or a curse depending on what scale they were working with, the situation. Right now, Archailist was struggling to hold himself down.
Come on. Once the whip was back in place, while Kos was quickly recovering from the drunken swaying, Arch threw out the whip out with all the strength he could, watching the leather unwind in the air.
Make it. Make it. He could only pray that it'd unwind fast enough to reach the man before it touched the ground. His prayers went unanswered; the tip hit first and the rest of the coil followed, working swiftly backwards. He cursed silently and gripped the base with his free paw, beginning to pull back and wind it up for another strike.
If only he'd had more time to practice with the whip on still objects. Heck, if only he'd had time to practice in general.
It takes finesse, Fist had told him.
If you don't know what you're doing, you won't be doing anything at all. He didn't even have the faintest clue.
by Clemens Kos on March 14th, 2015, 9:00 am 
