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The Ultimate Test of Strength (True Lycalo vs TMITM)

True Lycalo

Member
High in the cloudless afternoon sky soared a grandiose warrior over miles of desert. Dark brown wings with an immense span of 20 feet pushed the individual forth with impressive speeds. A collection of white rectrices at the end of a lengthy composite tail acted as a rudder to retain balance. Keen golden eyes rested upon the immense coliseum out in the distance. Reaching the center and hovering over the open arena with rhythmic flaps of his flight bearing appendages, he began surveying the structure. Its dilapidated nature was a definite indicator it had long been abandoned. No contest of bloodshed had taken place within those walls, likely for centuries. A nostalgic sigh escaped the nares of his yellow rostrum as he reminisced about the many times he entertained a packed crowd with his might.

The large round pupils of this combatant grew in size to obtain a much clearer view of something in the middle of the battleground itself directly below him. Perhaps this is what he sought. He had heard of a man with overwhelming power that had been seeking challengers. Following a thirst to grow stronger and put his abilities to the test had brought him here. Suddenly his wings ceased and he began plummeting to the ground, though they remained unfurled and added a fair amount of resistance. Soon he'd make quite the entrance about 15 yards from the awaiting figure. The stone flooring would crumble and the layer of sand above it would stir up into a temporary billow of dust. After a swift flick of his wings it was dispersed and he was now fully visible.

The white feathered head stood nearly 7 feet above the ground while upright pointed ears of an identical makeup just past that height. His stoic expression and angled ridges above his eyes lended to a sharp visage. Wrapped around the bottom of his neck plumage and resembling a scarf of sorts lay a mane of fur. Noticeably well groomed, it was primarily russet with streaks of golden yellow and black. The physique of this creature was sufficiently robust and covered in khaki brown medium length fur. Both hands and feet were sizable paws with deathly claws sheathed within. The wings that carried him through the air had folded along his back not unlike a cape. Feathers of a near identical hue lined his legs from his hips to just above his knees to finish the clothes-like aesthetics of his appearance and appear as a set of trousers.

This amalgamation of avian and feline attributes formed the one designated Tharraleos. One with the right knowledge would make note of this hybridization as belonging to the beasts of legends known as Griffins. This particular one hailed from a shape-shifting subspecies called the Metallaxi. More often than not existing in restrained bipedal forms like how he was now, these inhibitors could be relinquished under various scenarios to unleash titanic quadruped monstrosities with berserker mentalities. After serving for hundreds of years under a sinful sorcerer, the nomadic combat hunter aimlessly travels the globe seeking to harness his strength. In recent years he had reached a plateau and shortly after, stagnation as he seldom had the opportunity to even go beyond his Suppressed Form. This had the possibility of changing with the being before him.

"You there." The heraldic hybrid called out with booming vocals that had a faint growl to them. "I surmise you are the one they speak of who seeks a challenge?" He inquired with a raised brow. His articulation and proper inflections betrayed his bestial exterior as he spoke. His paws remained at his sides as if braced for action at any given point and his stance shifted subtly. He had a feeling in his gut this was about to be the confrontation of a lifetime and he much anticipated it.
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
@True Lycalo
"I̶ ̷a̷m̷ ̴h̴e̶.̶"
Indeed, the Man had seen the griffin approach, and felt the mythological power coming from the being, although not enough to warrant any sort of alarm from the Man - yet.
The Man in the Mirror was curious about this being, this foolish, foolish griffin who had decided to face him. Looking up and down this entity, to be honest, he'd expected... more. This lion/eagle hybrid had much to learn if he wanted to face the Man in the Mirror. And much more power to gain.
But, the Man supposed, this wasn't the worst he could do. He was definitely no slouch at combat, the Man could see that much, and was ready for a fight, not underestimating the man too much.
There was also a healthy amount of reverence and fear, which the Man appreciated.
"W̸h̵o̶ ̵a̶r̵e̷ ̵y̵o̷u̶?̶"
 

True Lycalo

Member
Upon hearing this confirmation, the warrior's beak subtly twisted into a grin.

"I am Tharraleos." He responded, placing a paw to his chest with an heir of grandeur. "Allow me to showcase the might of the Metallaxi." The way he carried himself denoted a sense of hubris. The Man would likely be able to detect something inside Tharr. Something sinful. Dwelling within the Griffin was a semi-sentient essence of pure Pride bestowed by his former enslaver. It formed a sort of symbiosis with its new host and by feeding off his inherent ego, it gifts him an ability it believes suits him best. As he spoke the gold of his eyes flashed a vibrant purple momentarily and would pulse a couple times almost like a heartbeat. These were reserves of power being stored for later use.

Tharraleos would begin pacing back and forth laterally as if analyzing his opponent; his eyes locked on intently. The pressure he felt emanating from this individual was suffocating. His heart began thumping within his chest and for the first time in recent memory the thrill of battle began to envelope him before a blow was even dealt. It was an invigorating sensation and he was hoping the skirmish would live up to the hype. Facing such insurmountable odds so headstrong certainly invoked a feeling of self admiration which acted as a morsel for the Sin essence and caused his irises to illuminate a few more times. Normally he'd take a more methodical and defensive approach to battles at first to determine one's strengths and weaknesses. This however was an exception. In a nice change of pace he had to prove himself to his foe and he was all for the challenge.

Crumbling the stone beneath his feet, Tharr abruptly made a beeline towards the Man with surprising speed given his sizable frame. Each step closed a significant gap and trembled the earth every time. Assuming his target didn't move he'd be within striking distance in a matter of seconds. Planting his left foot, he'd stop and send a pretty basic right armed punch. The momentum from his charge gave it a fair amount of strength; far more than any human could ever achieve and he had yet to apply any genuine effort. He'd attentively watch the reaction of this person, prepping himself to react accordingly.
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
The Man recognized it all too well, the poison that would eventually be this being's downfall. Pride was a thing that was best left untouched, in the Man's experience, unless it was reasonable pride, pride in your accomplishments, pride in your own strength, not something that was born to you. Pride of knowledge. That was what warranted pride. Not inborn ability or social status.

Nevertheless, The Man just smiled at Tharreleos as he paced in front of the Man. The Man knew that He was feeling it, the bloodlust and the battle rage. It was expected of someone of his upbringing and makeup - this being was literally born for battle. Bred for it. Similar to the Man himself. This is what they both lived for.

Metallaxi? Must be his race or something.

Anyway, the Man doubted it mattered now.

As the man watched Tharreleos, almost in slow motion, run up to him, the Man was acutely aware of the purple pulses in his eyes, like a heartbeat. He could almost feel the ka-thump of it, the beating that flowed blood through this physically impressive creature's veins. He could almost feel it speeding up. He could almost taste it.

Oh, what the Man would give to feel that beating again.

Tharreleos must not have expected that punch to connect, or even do anything, because it didn't.

The Man dodged the blow easily, spinning to Tharreleos' right, (I'm assuming he used his right hand) his footing like an intricate dance around Tharreleos to his back, pulling his cane out of his sleeve, something that couldn't possibly fit in there, and bringing it down on Tharreleos with one hand, not really expecting that to hit either, more just testing the griffin and giving him a small taste of the Man's strength.

The Man had experienced this before, the slow buildup that happens when beings don't know the others' abilities, this slow dance that eventually broke out until one being ended up more powerful than the other. Like a sacred ritual, with either side adhering to the unspoken rules. The Man had fought demons, he had fought nightmares. He had fought gods. Tharreleos couldn't be serious, starting out like this.

But the Man would be patient. He would be lenient. He would make do. Right now, he needed his combat fix, and this griffin, this... Metallaxi ... would do.
 

True Lycalo

Member
In an unsurprising development, Tharraleos' strike missed its mark. He lurched forward somewhat, rooting his right foot in front the other to stop his momentum. This Man had moved so quickly and it was almost like he teleported at the last second. The counterattack came just as swiftly and Tharr would barely have time to react. He couldn't even evade and had to face it directly.

Pivoting his body, he'd begin initiating a half rotation while straightening his body out. Simultaneously, something began to manifest around his left forearm. Donning the same purple glow his eyes took on moments before was a small ovoid shield with a 2 foot diameter. Aptly dubbed the Buckler of Brilliance, this was part of his vast hidden arsenal that the essence provided. Composed of hardlight and physically resembling glass, the damage and durability of these is dependent on the amount of reserves designated to it. With 5 garnering average statistics, this particular construct utilized 3.

In a backhanded strike, the Man's cane would collide with the sinful construct. As Tharr predicted, the attack was dealt with way more force than how it looked. The barrier nearly shattered on contact, sending shards all over that would wither away after a few seconds. Numerous deep fractures were seen throughout as well and it looked as if it was close to crumbling. Undeterred and hoping this would at least cause some semblance of imbalance, Tharraleos would send the bottom of his foot towards the Man's midsection in a swift, powerful kick. He'd be left relatively vulnerable if this missed, but still with the chance to retort if he was quick enough.
 
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TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
As the brilliant buckler shattered under his might, the Man couldn't help but smile. This Griffin had a few tricks in his bag. That was good.

More.

The Man in the Mirror was feeling it. He felt the power radiating from this being. He felt that he had more to give. More power. More fight. More of that delectable mortal determination.

Show it to me.

The Man in the Mirror saw the foot coming, but he didn't believe it, he didn't believe a griffin, skilled in combat, would do something this unwise. It was apparent that this griffin hadn't fought anyone more powerful than him in a while, maybe ever. He had been relying on brute strength for a while now, rather than skill.

The Man in the Mirror dodged, quite easily, actually, before spinning into a crouch and swiping at his one remaining leg that was on the ground, albeit a little halfheartedly. He didn't actually expect it to hit, he just wanted to reprimand the griffin for making such a mistake.

Even if the Man's attack didn't hit, the force of the swipe alone would kick up a lot of sand.
 

True Lycalo

Member
Tharraleos was certainly a master tactician to the point of seemingly having some precognition at times. The rudimentary kick he delivered was somewhat of a fake. If it connected that would have been satisfactory, but he was hardly counting on it. He was testing his adversary and seeing just how uphill of a battle this truly was. So far this Man had not disappointed at the slightest.

Ever impressed with his footwork, Tharraleos reciprocated with his own movements that were graceful, precise and calculated. Even maneuvers that seemed last minute were executed as if it were the plan all along. This was no exception. With his right leg now extended above his opponent and the other rooted to the ground, his options seemed limited as the Man went for his strike. In a bizarre move that he somehow made appear majestic he bent the knee that supported him and leapt upwards. In tandem with this, his other limb slightly veered to the right then kicked to the left. It all required finite concentration on very specific muscles and even with all his flexibility he felt the most mild of cramps setting in his groin. Hardly anything significant and really only a temporary annoyance.

This not only allowed his leg to narrowly evade the attack, but it gave him just barely enough leverage to initiate a counterclockwise twirl of his own with a pull of his body. His right foot would reunite with the stone first about 3 quarters the way through. His hips and torso would twist to complete the rotation while his left foot planted itself on the ground close to where it was before. All the while Tharraleos' right fist would be careening down towards the top of his opponent's cranium. But it wasn't a bawled up paw like it was before. Instead something was enveloped around it.

Taking the form of a giant, fist shaped gauntlet, the Supercilious Cestus made its appearance next. Not only does it expand the area of his strikes for further damage, but the inside nullifies concussive impact to protect his paws. The Griff was indeed a crafty one and had many more tools at his disposal. The Man perhaps would make note that this 4th strike was oddly faster than the 1st. It wasn't particularly a matter of effort either. The Metallaxi have individual methods of increasing battle performance in the midst of a skirmish. The body of this hubristic hybrid acts as a natural kinetic dynamo. Each mighty swing enhances attack speed and strength by 5%; rising up to thrice his base power. While it was remarkably unnoticeable at the moment, its full effects would reveal themselves over time.
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
The Man watched, having stood up swiftly after the slash, as Tharreleos careened above him in a smooth arc, the Man putting his cane away in the same way he brought it out; storing it in his sleeve - something that wasn't naturally possible, thinking about Tharreleos' avoidance of this simple problem. The Man almost laughed. Didn't Tharreleos have wings? The Man, who wasn't visually able to fight in the air, might be at a disadvantage. Tharreleos couldn't have just launched himself into the air and then dive-bombed the Man in the Mirror?

In this way, as Tharreleos flipped above him, he laughed as he saw this move exactly how it was - fancy, of course, - but completely unnecessary.

The Man simply raised his hand, pointing in the direction of where the griffin would land/attack, and released a powerful gust of telekinetic power - something that would hopefully shove Tharreleos back, seeing how he wasn't very grounded, again, with one foot on the ground. The Man smiled. This seemed reckless.
 

True Lycalo

Member
The subsequent burst of psionic energy was enough to send Tharraleos hurtling backwards perpendicular to the ground. What was left of his shield as well as the gauntlet were destroyed entirely from the impact and would send purple particles to scatter about. The wings of the warrior would reveal themselves at this point to dampen his momentum. The outer remiges appeared to "grab" onto the stone floor as well to not only slow him further, but to ground himself while he regained his footings. He would come to a stop about the same distance he started this skirmish while his flight bearers remained outstretched to the sides. Thrice his height, they occupied a fair amount of space and were easily the most resilient part of his makeup.

"I see." He began with an audible, close beaked chuckle as he stood upright. "It appears fighting you as a man will prove fruitless. I shall fight you as a Griffin now!" He declared with vigor as more reserves were added to his stockpile. His maw would open and his signature battle cry would erupt from him. The piercing screech of an eagle would resonate throughout the abandoned arena. This would transition into the booming bellow of a lion that almost seemed to threaten the structural integrity of this place. His left wing would bend into a makeshift fist and slam into the ground in front of him. Even with its impressive span TMINT was still way out of reach. But a direct strike wasn't the intention.

Tharr's wing landed with such force and precision that it created a fissure of splitting earth that was sent towards the ambiguous figure. This wasn't intended to cause any damage, but rather disorientation. The Knight of Hubris would watch the reaction intently while prepping his other wing and retracting the other. With a lofty lateral swing, the air around his appendage would create and release a crescent-shaped construct of pressurized wind that would be unleashed in accordance to the Man's movements. Nearly invisible and moderately sized, these have been known to carve through steel. From here he would determine whether or not to continue this ranged assault or make another attempt at close quarters
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
The Man watched as Tharreleos slowed his momentum, the griffin coming to a halt reasonably far from the Man in the Mirror, the Man satisfied with the distance he put between them - this would slow him down a little.

The reveal of the griffin's wings did not surprise the Man, nor did it make him feel as if he was in danger. the only thing the Man felt was a semblance of sadness, as sad as a being who cannot feel grief could get, looking at the Griffin's wings. Oh, how he wished he still had the use of his.

The prideful griffin chuckled and then babbled on about his power for a little bit, honestly, the Man in the Mirror wasn't paying attention. Something about fighting him as a griffin, not as a man. The Man almost laughed. Tharreleos was hopelessly optimistic that it would make any sort of difference, but the Man would humor him - for now. This griffin's pride would have to be stomped down eventually - this griffin was getting a little too big for his britches, and the Man in the Mirror had the power to correct that.

The Man appreciated the creativity Tharreleos using his wings almost like a second pair of arms, slamming one into the ground to create a fissure aimed at him. The Man simply dodged to the right, pivoting on his right foot to dodge the fissure entirely. The Man didn't really know what his opponent was trying to achieve with this attack, but the Man guessed it didn't matter. The griffin had shown that he was more interested in showcasing his power than actually fighting the Man in the Mirror before, so the Man in the Mirror assumed it was the same here.

The crescent-shaped vestige of wind didn't escape the Man in the Mirror - in fact, he noticed it instantly, and quickly spun on one foot to generate torque, crouched down to intensify it, and then jumped above it, his body spinning parallel to the crescent-shaped object, then landing lightly on his feet, in a slight crouch, before standing up again. The Man chuckled.

"W̷e̸l̴l̸,̵ ̷g̶r̷i̵f̶f̷i̸n̴,̷ ̶" He said, smiling. "M̴y̶ ̶k̸i̵n̵d̴ ̴s̸e̷e̷ ̵w̸i̷t̸h̴ ̸m̵o̷r̵e̴ ̷t̷h̷a̸n̵ ̴e̴y̵e̶s̸.̶"
 
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True Lycalo

Member
As the Man landed and stood upright, he would see a volley of 3 small arrows flying right at him about a second apart. Behind these bolts was a sprinting Tharraleos with significantly more velocity than his previous approach. Which was more attributed to elevated effort rather then an ability. Both wings were at his sides curled for bludgeoning while each of his paws dual wielded another of the essence's constructs.

The Crossbow of Complacency functions similarly to a pistol with comparable grip and firing mechanism. With individual resources needed for the bows themselves and the subsequent bundles of 5 for the bolts, this exhausted a good deal of his reserves. 2 for each component meant damage wasn't the priority, but rather as a nuisance to deal with while the Griff capitalized on potential openings. First he would attempt to get within striking distance for his feathery limbs before adding winged punches to his barrage of arrows. He launched 3 to start, but his digits hovered over the trigger and his eyes narrowed at the obstacle ahead.

"Sight beyond my understanding I am certain." Retorted Tharraleos as he pressed on. His teeth and fangs had instinctively revealed themselves with a beastly grin as he felt himself becoming immersed in this battle even more. Combat adrenaline began coursing through him and being so overpowered was almost euphoric. He could feel it. The inhibitors binding him to this humanoid guise were waning rapidly. Soon a whole different monster may manifest.
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
The Man quickly pivoted on one foot, dodging the Griffin's first attack. Theoretically, and a lot of what superpowered entities like him did was theoretical, a fist was harder to dodge than an arrow. A fist you had to completely get out of the way of, but a arrow? you only needed to move about an inch, maybe more. In this way, it was easier for the Man to dodge a bullet than a fist.

Just for dramatic effect, the Man caught the last arrow and snapped it like a twig with the squeeze of his fist at his side, as he dodged Tharreleos' first punch, of course, dodging to the side, aiming to get around Tharreleos.

The whole time, the Man in the Mirror was acutely aware of just how much power he was using at a given time, His Fear Factor and Interfearance, Tharreleos' and his bodies, external factors such as the sand being kicked up every time the Man in the Mirror stepped, none of the sand sticking to him, mysteriously. He saw... everything. He knew just how much energy Tharreleos was expending, and how powerful the constructs were.

He could also feel the energy of the fight, the electric, dizzying, euphoric, maddening, addicting nature of the fight. Tharreleos didn't understand. How could he? The Man was a hunter. Tharreleos was, too, but not to the caliber of the Man. And Tharreleos had forgotten the very first rule of the hunt.

Never attack your prey until you make sure it is prey.

All this time, Tharreleos had been in control of the pace of the fight. The Man had never really cared to control it, but now, the Man smiled and took the wheel.

If Tharreleos was observant, which the Man saw he was, he'd give him that, he'd see the Man in the Mirror suddenly and subtly change gears, and if he was really observant, he would feel the man's Interfearance and Fear Factor downshift too, the incoherent inaudible rustling of fear and destabilization turning gradually into a buzz as the Man consciously increased the the two ambient abilities, which were arguably the ones more likely to give him an advantage.

It started slow, the Man pulling out his Cane and counterattacking once to the legs, twice to the head, dodging in and out of Tharreleos' range expertly, taking advantage of every overextension and opening he saw, punishing them accordingly.

The Man in the Mirror was not prey.
 

True Lycalo

Member
As Tharraleos closed the distance and sent his first winged punch, he instantly noted how disadvantageous it would be. Sure they packed more of a wallop than his other limbs and their range was superb, but the wide sweeping motions could easily be maneuvered around and this opponent had already displayed incredible agility. As such he had formulated a contingency beforehand. The momentum from the swing carried him forth and he'd use this to his advantage.

Once more Tharr would avoid the Man's cane with a leap, only this time he didn't touch the ground afterwards. Right after bending his knees and making his bound his feathered appendages would extend fully and send him airborne with a flurry of flaps. Even more wind than before would naturally be stirred up from the sheer vigor it took to attain flight. These wings were no doubt the most powerful component of his natural arsenal. He'd create a good amount of space with relative quickness as he traveled diagonally upwards. He could feel the intensity of TMINT increase noticeably. Perhaps Tharr was a bit deranged because this only immersed him further into the fray. He was enjoying this heightened effort from the ambiguous figure.

After covering only a short distance, the Knight of Hubris would demonstrate his graceful aerobatics and seamlessly shift his trajectory to start heading towards the Man. Flying perpendicular to the ground, he'd begin sending a barrage of bolts from above while maintaining a rotation. One by one he'd expend his remaining 7 arrows and by the end of it his crossbows were on the verge of breakage
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
The Man saw all of this transpire, the leap above him, the Man would've guessed that Tharreleos be wary of his acrobatic movements to not catch another gust of telekinetic force, but it seemed he was wrong. Tharreleos didn't.
Huh.
Even so, the Man didn't interrupt the prideful griffin's attack. He more just watched, eyes on Tharreleos all the time even though they didn't necessarily need to be, analyzing his opponent's moves carefully, procedurally analyzing how he moved, and through that, how he thought.
The Man gathered that, like him, Tharreleos was a very offensive type of fighter by nature, and he enjoyed being on the hunt. Tharreleos also didn't seriously think anyone could defeat him, his foolish pride being of immense amusement to the Man.
As the Griffin speeded toward him, it was hard for the Man in the Mirror to take him seriously. Tharreleos had been blasted aside from the Man's telekinesis before, and now the Griffin was just flying at him in a straight line? Exceedingly foolish.
So, the Man deemed it would be needed to pull out one of his greater weapons
As Tharreleos flew toward him in a straight line(HA!), the Man dodged the arrows painfully easily, and puddles of a black liquid manifested quickly on the walls of the arena. Tentacles, hard enough to skewer Tharreleos but flexible enough to track him a little bit, shot out of the puddles and toward Tharreleos at lightning speed.
At the same time, from the Man in the Mirror gushed black ink, covering a great majority of the stone ground with the dark liquid.
The tide was turning.
 
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True Lycalo

Member
Tharraleos couldn't help but smirk at the display and showcase of immense strength; his irises glowing the hubristic purple a number of times. With his armaments essentially expired, he relinquished his hold on them where they vanished amongst the torrent of wind from his feathered limbs. At first he had moderate success in evading the onslaught of piercing tendrils. His sizable physique would drift about in very specific rotations and twirls. It was as if it was an airborne dance he was performing with flamboyance. He found himself honored to be on the receiving end of this elevated effort. He surmised this Man was simply giving a grain of what He's truly capable of.

His impressive maneuverability was only half of the contribution. Within that head of plumage was a methodical and ever calculating machine executing complex equations almost like some type of cyborg. He was able to determine the patterns of these constructs and commanded his body to act accordingly. After a moderate time of evasion a few would begin to close in on him. He'd turn to face them however and held his right arm in front of him astutely.

Expending the remainder of his reserves manifested the Extraordinary Escutcheon around his forearm; a 4 foot shield resembling the Greek Aspis that provided more coverage than his smaller barrier but with less mobility. What's more, since it had reached the maximum strength the outline surrounding it took on traits of plasma. Not only would it hold up even after taking numerous blows, but each time it'd deflect back a volt of sinful energy equal to about 2,000 volts of electricity. This would probably be no worse than an insect bite to this being, but the sturdiness of his shield was favorable regardless. He'd continue to tuck, roll and flip through the air with finite precision, seamlessly alternating between using his construct to take a blow and outright evasion. The tides have most certainly turned and now he was on the defensive. Someone in their right mind may second guess their decisions right now, but Tharr was thrilled. If his heart wasn't pounding in his chest and the feral call of a monster seemed to be screaming within him, his ego would certainly be more prevalent. It hadn't shattered yet, but the Griff's hold on his inhibitors were the closest they've been to breaking in centuries. That shit eating grin had only seemed to be cemented on his avian visage. This would be the fight of his life.
 

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
We're All Mad Here
When the Onslaught of the inky tentacles had ceased, the Man in the Mirror looked up casually to see if Tharreleos had been turned into a shish-kebab yet.
To the Man's amusement, he hadn't.
The Man supposed it was useful to have a very flexible weapon such as the griffin's sinful constructs, blocking attacks and dealing them with more than just his body. After all, that's why the Man gave Blindfold the Ink - plus, it was his signature weapon.
But it didn't matter now, anyways. The arena floor was almost completely covered in inky black liquid, the liquid being able to turn solid and move at a moment's notice.
The attack was but a distraction. The Man now had dominance over the ground, and Tharreleos couldn't stay in the air forever.
A group of inky tentacles, softer and more flexible this time, aiming to track Tharreleos and drag him to the ground, where the Man had the advantage, sprouted up around the Man and shot up into the air after the Griffin, aiming for arms, legs, neck, anything they could reach.
The Man in the Mirror laughed without inhibition.
 

True Lycalo

Member
Tharraleos felt quite satisfied that he was able to avoid the barrage. But he knew he couldn't allow his vanity to get the best of him quite yet. This was an accomplishment, though not enough to warrant celebration. Another bombardment of much more malibile tendrils burst from the ground threatening to ensnare and ground him. He didn't need to be a tactical genius to know how severe of a disadvantage he'd be at with how much of the inky substance covered the arena. It'd no doubt be comparable to stepping onto an active minefield.

The beast would continue his graceful aerobatics applying the same technique as before. Through a number of close calls he persevered with grace. He was still an organic mortal being despite his centuries of existence so he was bound to falter at one point. The Extraordinary Escutcheon held together dutifully, but that too had its limits. Eventually it reached the end of its use and the recoil from such was enough for Tharr to stagger sufficiently for a few of the tendrils to wrap around his torso and bring him to the ground below.

He'd hit the arena floor with a painful thud and unable to move from his restraints. Being in this most unfavorable situation was what finally caused something within him to snap. Trapping a feral animal like this and making them feel cornered typically does bring out their full ferocity. The breakage of his barrier was rather symbolic of his pride shattering and his irises hadn't glowed the vibrant purple since before he manifested the construct. It seemed he had finally understood just how fleeting of a chance he had. The Man would likely sense this and believe the skirmish to be over. But confusion of some sort would no doubt flow through him next as Tharr looked up at him with a deranged visage.

"It has been centuries since I have been pushed beyond my suppressed limitations. You have my gratitude." He declared with a cackle. His pupils dilated and his body began expanding greatly. The sound of bones crunching and breaking emerged from the warrior as he began to undergo a metamorphosis. If he wasn't already on his paws and knees he would've collapsed from the sheer agony. Grunts of excruciating pain escaped his beak as he continued to grow in size. His coat would darken noticeably and his rostrum took on a sawtoothed appearance. The fur and feathers lengthened and became reinforced comparably to steel while his skin hardened like stone.

After roughly 30 seconds the Tharraleos of before was replaced with an almost unrecognizable titan of destruction. With a quadruped stature, his head rested 15 feet from the ground when standing upright while his body length was 26 feet. His eyes would burst open; his pupils now almost occupying the entirety of the area and what little of his iris that was visible was heavily bloodshot. He had remained laying down, but would make attempts to free himself after collecting his composure. He moved with much more rancor and his strength had made a drastic increase. After all, he was able to maneuver the metric ton of weight that was now his body with only slightly less agility than before. Not to mention any regard for his well being was eradicated. That pride of his seemed to be diminished and what remained was unbridled fury and a lust for bloodshed. He'd grumble and seemingly curse without words as he attempted to free himself. Then he'd be able to stretch his limbs and unleash his rage on whatever was in his sights.
 
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