[FwM] The Trotting Dead-Mlp without the Kiddy Thread XVI

[Grif]

[Forest Ambush]

Prose notices he's being shadowed at the last moment. He looks back to see who or what his pursuers are, unfortunately just as the ambush is about to be sprung. Prose is caught off guard, and finds himself slammed to the ground by the griffon who tackles him.

However, the griffon has chosen the wrong batpony to grapple with, as hoof-to-claw combat happens to be Prose's best fighting style. As such, the moment the griffon tries to come at him with claws, the odds immediately turn against the grif's favor. "Unwise," Prose states simply, narrowing his eye as he moves to defend himself.

Prose twists himself around a bit, and angles himself to that the talons miss his flesh and instead strike the armor over his shoulders, sending sparks flying as the blow glances off. He then follows up with a pair of strikes of his own - a forehoof slamming upwards into the griffon's throat, attempting to strike and possibly collapse his trachea, and a raking swipe of his left wing's talons, attempting to slice through the griffon's extended forearm and several his major tendons and arteries. Neither strike should be immediately lethal, but a crushing blow to the throat should leave him gasping and possibly trying to pop his trachea back open, while such a devastating blow to the wrist could cause severe bleeding and perhaps even permanent loss of function for that hand without proper treatment.

Essentially, the griffon has invited himself into a world of hurt by trying to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowbolt. Assuming he's disabled by the one-two strike, Prose flings the griffon off of him, hops up, and looks to see if there are more attacks coming his way.

[Forest Ambush]
Wildcat wasn't having the best day. Having a hoof slammed into your throat would do that to anypony. The griffon let out a weak gurgle as his airways momentarily was cut off, staggering backwards in rapid confusion and shock, and only narrowly missing what would have been a double blow by pure chance, sustaining only a nasty laceration on his forelimb. Of course, Prose would be able to push off the griffon easily, who quickly slumped to the ground.

"Impressive work, pony. But your time ends here," Stuka said from the shadows of the forest above Prose, mere moments before she flinged the knife she had held in one paw, before launching herself directly at the Shadowbolt. Not one for subtlety, griffons.