Finch was entirely in predator mode now, and as such the only think he could think about was sinking his teeth into flesh and violently ripping it off the bone. The fact that his opponent was a living statue didn't even register until he was finally able to clamp down on Karl's arm and found he couldn't get his fangs into it. Snarling in frustration, he lifted himself onto his hind legs, the statue hanging from his jaws like a rag doll. And that was exactly how the werewolf treated him, shaking him around roughly before finally releasing and flinging the combat instructor across the arena toward the far wall. See how he liked it.

Falling back onto all fours, his golden eyes darted around, though he only truly noticed a few things. One was the fact that he was boxed in, caged. That simply wouldn't do. Once he was finished here, the next order of business would be to get the hell out of here. Another was that his battle with Karl was being watched, apparently. Finch glared at the vampire girl, teeth bared. Maybe it was an instinct hardwired into his animal nature, but he suddenly wasn't too fond of vampires. And the feeling appeared mutual. The wolf shot her what could be considered the canine equivalent of a smirk, as if daring her to come down and try to stop him.

The last thing, however, was by far the most important: another were in the arena. The fact that Finch knew Kalista, that she'd been trying to help him, was irrelevant now. Wolves were highly territorial as a rule. And to have a cat within ten miles of him... he wouldn't stand for it. Turning his back on Karl, Finch edged toward the werecat, growling out a clear ultimatum: Leave now or die.

Karl was lifted off his feet, and drastically flung around like a doll. The statue was finally tossed across the arena, sailing into the wall - with a rather loud crack. Karl slid down the wall, before pushing himself off the ground, brushing his jacket off, with a rather disgruntled look on his face, but his grin gave it away. "I'm in SO much pain, Songbird! You might should go easy on me!" He said with a rather hefty laugh. But the wolf was distracted from his fight.... Karl's number-one pet peeve. "Well, every puppy needs to be trained a little... I should..." The statue stoped, finally looking down at the arm the had been bitten. Not only was there color missing from the surface, but there were deep teeth marks dug into the resin flesh. "My bow arm...." He said, looking at the arm dully, and then turning his gaze back to the wolf. "Although... I suppose that I'll have to graft it later...." The statue said, his eyebrows slanting heavily. Arma, that had closely been following under him, one with his shadow untill now, crawled up his body, and traveled up his leg, flowing across his body like some sort of creature, up his body, and then down his arm, untill the ebony creature sat at his wrist, before it formed into a rather bold looking spike.... Like a harpoon, without the spearhead.

Karl made sure the polearm was firmly in his grip, before he dashed rabidly towards the werewolf, his prodding polearm in hand. But finally, the statue would almost leap upon Finch, and try to plunge the weapon through his lower leg, hopefully taking advantage of the distraction he was provided with. If the attack succeeded, it would hopefully pin the wolf to the ground, and at which, he was at Karl's mercy...

Kalista Delacroix

Kalista stood on the edge of the ring, watching through curious cat-eyes as Finch went at Karl with his claws. Not too much hope there: even her claws couldn't do much more than leave gouges in the resin-man, and she was geared towards their use. Wolves fared better with fangs. Of course, since Finch had no control over his partial transformations, he might not have much choice.

Karl did his damndest to stoke the werewolf's fury, and Kali smelled the transformation before she saw it. There was a sudden spike in Finch's wolf-smell, which would probably only be recognizable to someone else with a were's nose. Technically, this was what she'd been trying to prevent, but she was not overly concerned. He'd lasted much longer than he might have, and that was enough for her to know that he had made an effort to stay in control. That was all she needed; Kalista loved lost causes, but she would not waste her time and energy on someone who wasn't willing to work at it.

Karl was flung to one side, and Finch turned. His hostile instinct was in control right now, and he looked very much like he wanted to rip her apart. That was just too damn bad; he wasn't going to get the chance. Not only would Karl not allow it, but she wasn't going to indulge him. He was beyond thinking logically at the moment, which meant she wasn't all that interested in fighting him. She'd probably have to intervene later, talk him down, so to speak, but for now she simply regarded the wolf levelly, not the slightest hint of fear in her slit-pupiled eyes.

She saw Karl approach over Finch's shoulder, and jerked her chin in that direction. "Behind you," she advised evenly, still not having moved from where she stood, arms crossed, the picture of composure.

It annoyed Finch that his threatening gesture wasn't doing it's job. Maybe he had to try harder. Pressing his ears against his skull in a clearly aggressive manner, he let loose a violent snarl. Still, she didn't budge. Who was she not to fear him? Why did she seem so calm? Finally, bits and pieces of memory from his human half started sinking in.

"This is not how you want summoning the beast to feel..."

"...you aren't just a beast, you're a human, too..."

"I can help you..."

What was he doing? Kali wasn't his enemy. If anything, all she wanted to do was help him. And here he was, letting the monster in his head take control and try to hurt her. This wasn't what he wanted. And the only way to keep it from happening was if he got a hold of himself. Slowly, the were backed off, muscles relaxing as he tried to calm himself. He couldn't keep doing this, not unless he wanted someone else to end up like Alex. Someone who didn't deserve to die. He couldn't let the Beast stay in control, he had to focus, he--

Finch's ears flicked up as he heard footsteps pounding toward him. With a low growl, he turned in time to grab Arma in his teeth, shooting Karl a hateful glare. He was the enemy here, not Kali. He was the one the blonde had to focus on right now. With a strong yank, he pulled the lance off of the statue's arm and flung it away, leaving him weaponless. Smirking wolfishly, Finch leapt at the older immortal, intent to pin him to the ground helpless.

Karl would turn and watch as the werewolf spun rapidly, and took his weapon in his teeth. This took Karl by a good bit of surprise, but didn't truly shock him. The wolf was seeming to be a rather hefty task for the half-assed attempts of the statue.... Karl would have to fix that. Arma was jerked from his grasp, the avian weapon of darkness stabbing fiercely into the ground. And Karl only grinned. "Snippy!" He said laughing, before he noted the werecreature coming towards him, and tried to find himself on top of Karl...

Karl just laughed as he watched the beast, almost in slow motion. His eyes went from their joyfilled expression to 'gametime'.

Karl would shift his stance, and even let the boy get close to him.... But that was all he would get. Reaching out, Karl would grab for the were-creature's arm (forelegs...?), as he grabbed Karl, and didn't even need to wrap his hand fully around it. Accumulating his grip as best as he could... before squeezing as hard as the statue could, with ALL of his inhumane might, making sure to painfully dig his thumbs into the meaty arm. Surely, with all of his astounding might, there would be even the slightest reaction from the wolf-boy. He KNEW it.... The statue shifted his stance, allowing the tackle-like attack to be nullified, especially in his grip. It wasn't that Karl was any heavier.. it was just that Karl was stronger.

Now there was math involved in this - Karl himself was no astonishingly heavy being. Perhaps 300 lbs. Perhaps. And the werewolf was no more than fivehundred, he was almost assured, not that it would matter that he was four times that. The wolf's strength was certainly undefined... but Karl knew his own strength.... Karl had lifted things somewhere around 500 times this wolf's weight (based on what he had read once, about the weird devices known as "Locomotives". Not to mention those pesky "Locomotive Passenger Cars" that were attached to it somehow, and on his assumed weight).... For some reason...the statue found the Wolf's plan of immbolizing him with a pin, rather laughable.

"What ever were you thinking, Songbird? Surely to goodness, you didn't believe you could overpower little me, did you? Why, I had no chance! Look at you - there is just no way I could do something like..." Karl would twist his hips, and fling his arms, attempting to toss the wolf like a frisbie... or the werewolf equivilent. It depended if the wolf hung on to his arms.... which he honestly hoped the wolf was smarter than such...

Finch wasn't entirely certain what had happened. One moment he was just about to sink his claws into the statue's body (more or less). The next moment: pain. Mind-numbing pain shooting up through his arm. The wolf let out a sharp yelp, clearly not expecting that kind of strength from his smaller opponent. It felt as though the bones in his forearm could snap at any moment. It took him a moment to realize: he couldn't move without running the risk of causing himself more pain. He was completely at the mercy of the cement and resin psychopath.

He was helpless.

Frozen by this realization, Finch listened numbly to Karl's taunts, barely listening to them, really. The concept of being so trapped, so helpless... it scared him. He was a predator, a warrior. It shouldn't be possible for someone to stop him, especially not this easily. The beast winced pitifully as the grip on his arm strengthened, and he found himself being flung across the stadium once more. And least he didn't hit the wall, this time, tumbling across the dirt before finally skidding to a half.

For a moment, he lay still, motionless except for his breathing. Then, slowly, he rose back to his feet, favoring his other arm over the one that had been grabbed. Yes, he was sore. Yes, he was humiliated. No, he was not going to quit. If he went down, he was going down fighting. Growling, he moved toward Karl once more, picking up speed until he was charging at the older immortal. A head on attack probably wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't really going for strategy. Just results.

Amarante was back on school property, her bags in hand and golden eyes surveying the buildings once more. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed from when she last stood on this ground. She’d never been very good with time, but then, most elves weren’t. Whole days could pass while they sat thinking.

She walked forward slowly, unsure of her destination. Adrien had hurried back-there were many things for their family to deal with. Amarante had wanted to stay at home, but Mother had put her foot down and insisted. It was about time the Orabels got their heads out of the past and into the future, she said. She wanted her youngest daughter to experience life as other beings saw it, and now was as good a time as ever.

But I don’t care about others, she thought. I’m fine with myself and books, animals, and Adrien. I don’t need anyone else.

She finally found the door labeled Headmistress. She raised a pale hand and knocked softly, half afraid of going in. She didn’t want to be here. Maybe she could ditch her bags and run for the forest, live as a wild elf. But no, she couldn’t. She had to fulfill her family’s expectations, and do her duty.

Karl watched with glee as he battered down the wolf again, using that grand strength he was blessed with to make sure that he'd think twice about trying to tackle or pin him. Although, it wasn't clear if the wolf was thinking at all. His attacks were based from blind rage. And such a fighting style would never match a quick thinking, cool headed fighter like Karl. Especially with his strength advantage. Although, as much as he enjoyed making the wolf feel hapless (although, he was fairly sure the only thing the wolf felt now was fury), he had to get his point across. The fight wasn't a fight anymore. It had degraded back into a ruthless beating. He was now simply beating a larger target. Karl ran the facts through his head one last time; Strong, werewolf, angry, fast, ill-to-no-logic. Karl knew if he wanted, he could more than likely win this fight. Everything was going in his favor. But the victory felt hollow. There was no point in fighting a fight you knew you could win. There were no benefits. And as much as he hated it. He -had- to do his job. Lest the Headmistress grow angry with him.

But he was going to do it in a subtle way.

He knew the wolf simply ignored his words. He'd done so much taunting that he was sure of that. And in this blind, enraged hybrid form he obviously didn't have much control either. So. He'd revert to what the wolf had left - the will to live and fight, and instinct. He held out his injured arm, and called to him his mallicious raven, the tool his destruction that he preferred... And his raven would return. The bird's body slowly warped into his cutlass, before he was out of time. He hadn't had nearly enough time to make a complete thought out of all the information he'd gathered and conjured. But it was good enough.

Karl leaped high, over the charging wolf, bringing his knees to his chest as barely gained enough clearance over the wolf's head. He rolled with his landing, into a kneel, before standing up and turning around. The wolf hadn't caught him, but might've saw his tactic; in fact he was hoping he would've. The statue felt a grim smile creep across his face. "Come on then, wolf-boy!" He called in his taunting voice. "Let's see if your flesh can stand against a blade!" He called, holding his arm out, Arma's concrete edge completely ebony, but still glinted. He made spining motions, twirling and juggling Arma lightly with his bitten arm. He was doing this for a reason; he was trying to draw emphasis on his sword. It was not something the hybrid-creature wanted....He wanted to avoid it. Or disarm him. Karl hoped he logic'd the second one. After all, his arm was already weak. He would prepare for the next assault by the wolf-boy... obviously leaving his arm out prior to strike with it. His stone eyes locked from afar. A dead glare set on Finch.