Snippet #1696759

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.