[@Griffintaur]

[i]The Magna Pater moved by yanking itself along with its arms as the bunching loops of its tail continuously propelled it forwards. Its weight spread far across the ground. Because of this its center of gravity and balance was more or less unaffected by the tremor. Likewise the immense stride of its arms, which could cover more ground than a cheetah, overtook the crack and its body easily slid right over it with nary a pause. By the time Tharra lashed out at it with his arm, it'd have been only ten feet from his body. Furthermore, if Tharra could recognize at least the general shape of the monster, enough to vaguely pick out its eyes or decipher the arms and tail for what they were, then the Malocchio would activate. It didn't require 20/20 vision, considering how it could work on animals with considerably worse eyesight than humans. Tharra would feel something slipping wetly into his mind, melding into his vitals like a warm leech. Were this to occur, then right before the moment of impact, as he struck at the Magna Pater with his wing, the lights would go out. One moment he'd be swinging at a terrible, blurry form shooting forwards him, and the next he'd see nothing but black. It would have temporarily traded sight with him if he could see it with any discerning definition. He could see through the Magna Pater's eyes, and it could see through his. By shutting its eyes, it had effectively blinded him. Tharra'd feel the impact of its firm, soggy body, followed by a sudden tremendous weight on his wing. Somehow, instead of smacking it away, it'd have immediately stuck to his limb. The monster had reared up to take the hit on its center mass before dead-weighting Tharra, trying to drag him onto his side. It wasn't that Tharra couldn't lift the monster, he probably could, but it was nearly half his equivalent body weight pulling down on an extended wing. He'd lack the leverage to easily recover his footing with such a lopsided increase in weight. At the same time he'd feel something cold oozing past his feathers, as if he had just sunk that part of his wing into tapioca.

Tharra's blow had been powerful, perhaps even as much as a car crash, but that did little against its rubbery, truck tire body. If a mere deer could quickly get up and run off into the woods after getting hit by a car, then what chance was there to stun the Magna Pater? There were no bones to break, and its insides were cushioned by hundreds of pounds of striated muscle so powerful that it could move freely even when subjected to the immense pressures at the bottom of Mariana's Trench, which could crush WWII submarines like tin cans. An eighteen wheeler could barrel over it and it'd still be relatively unscathed. Claws would probably be best for tearing into the monster, but after only a single second of combat Tharra would easily be able to tell that it'd be suicide to allow his head anywhere near the thing. Who the fuck would want to get this nasty-ass shit in their mouth!? There was no telling what weapons the slimy abomination was hiding.[/i]