06-11-2018, 09:23 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-11-2018, 09:26 AM by PepsiWhirda.)
Whirda fought back a surge of anxiety as she stepped onto the raised platform of the arena. It rose like bile from her chest into her throat, caustic and bitter. She curled her toes to prevent any outward sign of weakness. She felt no fear of the battle to come—never had Whirda Windstrom, in her decades of combat, shied away from a fight. Rather, it was concern for the welfare of her opponents that gave her pause. The other Whirda, over whom she held no semblance of control, had proven herself a vicious and unsentimental killer.
At Whirda’s side, Yuuka seemed to sense her discomfort. Her green-haired ally frowned and muttered under her breath, “Are you okay?”
Before Whirda could respond, their opponents appeared at the opposite side of the arena. Whirda’s eyes narrowed as she examined her newest prey. The pair of Primes seemed even more mismatched than Whirda and Yuuka—a girl, blonde curls spilling down from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat, carrying a broomstick; and her ally, caught somewhere between man and beast, wielding an unusual staff.
“I’ll take the girl,” Whirda whispered, a slight rasp edging her voice. She assumed an expectant stance, arms bent slightly at the elbow, left shoulder thrown back to reduce the plane of her exposed torso. Her fingertips twitched inches above the hilts of her daggers. As she spoke, two umbral serpents coalesced around her wrists, wriggling and writhing in anticipation of bloodshed.
Yuuka twirled her parasol idly. “Look at them,” she said with the hint of a sly grin, “they don’t stand a chance.”
As the resounding boom of the gong echoed throughout the arena, Whirda wasted no time. Her daggers hissed from their sheaths, the umbral blade already leaking an eager trail of opaque ash. Taut muscles moving in perfect harmony, she darted toward the magician, readying her first spell.
Whirda’s opponent did not falter. Two glowing orbs appeared at her flanks and surged with bright light, unleashing a pair of luminous projectiles. They hurtled through the air with frightening speed, leaving Whirda little time to dodge.
Whirda vanished with a thunderous crack, having anticipated an attack. The projectiles passed harmlessly through empty space.
Whirda was upon her then, exiting her teleport within melee range of her startled opponent. To her credit, the girl brought her broomstick in line with Whirda’s first blinding attack routine, giving ground in the wake of the plagued woman’s ferocious assault. Whirda twisted, a deft jab of the shadechill dagger bypassing the girl’s defenses and slicing into her side with a spray of blood.
The girl screamed, more from anger than pain, and thrust her broom forward deceptively, sending Whirda’s attacking blade out wide. The orbs at her sides flashed again, and this time Whirda truly had no chance to counter. The projectiles caught her in the shoulder and chest, the stinging strikes setting her back on her heels. Whirda growled, bullying through the pain and surging forward.
As they approached the edge of the platform, Whirda’s slashes and jabs showed no signs of relenting. Each combatant knew the terms of victory in this fight—to fall from the platform meant elimination, and now the girl’s heels rocked on the edge of that very precipice.
Whirda pushed on, enacting another spell from her diverse repertoire, this time foregoing the abilities of the shade and calling on the magic of her past, of her mother, from Faerûn. A gust of wind separated the two combatants, hurling the girl off the edge of the raised platform and into open air.
The girl, her vision clearing as the brief effects of the shadechill toxin wore off, maintained the presence of mind to flip one leg nimbly over her broomstick, enacting the power of flight. Instead of hitting the ground and losing the battle, instead she soared up and over the platform, laughing when she took note of Whirda’s surprised stare.
But Whirda, no stranger to flying foes, had feigned the reaction. Three umbral daggers coalesced before her outstretched palm, soaring toward her airborne foe. Two of the daggers soared harmlessly wide, but the third sliced across the girl’s cheek before dissipating.
The girl faltered in her flight and Whirda seized the advantage, slipping her daggers into their sheaths. A second gust of wind launched Whirda high into the air and she caught the tail-end of the girl’s broomstick, dangling in midair. Flexing her wiry muscles, Whirda twisted on the broomstick’s axis, planting both feet into the girl’s side and shoving her off the flying object.
To Whirda’s astonishment, while the girl cried out in pain, she remained aloft, the flight spell maintaining its effect. Whirda plummeted, reorienting herself and landing on the platform. A jolt of pain lanced through her feet and ankles.
Whirda looked up just in time to see a flask, hurled at her by the grinning girl, strike the ground a few meters in front of her. While not very painful, the sheer concussive force of the resulting blast sent her skidding painfully across the platform.
She growled and vanished once more.
At Whirda’s side, Yuuka seemed to sense her discomfort. Her green-haired ally frowned and muttered under her breath, “Are you okay?”
Before Whirda could respond, their opponents appeared at the opposite side of the arena. Whirda’s eyes narrowed as she examined her newest prey. The pair of Primes seemed even more mismatched than Whirda and Yuuka—a girl, blonde curls spilling down from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat, carrying a broomstick; and her ally, caught somewhere between man and beast, wielding an unusual staff.
“I’ll take the girl,” Whirda whispered, a slight rasp edging her voice. She assumed an expectant stance, arms bent slightly at the elbow, left shoulder thrown back to reduce the plane of her exposed torso. Her fingertips twitched inches above the hilts of her daggers. As she spoke, two umbral serpents coalesced around her wrists, wriggling and writhing in anticipation of bloodshed.
Yuuka twirled her parasol idly. “Look at them,” she said with the hint of a sly grin, “they don’t stand a chance.”
As the resounding boom of the gong echoed throughout the arena, Whirda wasted no time. Her daggers hissed from their sheaths, the umbral blade already leaking an eager trail of opaque ash. Taut muscles moving in perfect harmony, she darted toward the magician, readying her first spell.
Whirda’s opponent did not falter. Two glowing orbs appeared at her flanks and surged with bright light, unleashing a pair of luminous projectiles. They hurtled through the air with frightening speed, leaving Whirda little time to dodge.
Whirda vanished with a thunderous crack, having anticipated an attack. The projectiles passed harmlessly through empty space.
Whirda was upon her then, exiting her teleport within melee range of her startled opponent. To her credit, the girl brought her broomstick in line with Whirda’s first blinding attack routine, giving ground in the wake of the plagued woman’s ferocious assault. Whirda twisted, a deft jab of the shadechill dagger bypassing the girl’s defenses and slicing into her side with a spray of blood.
The girl screamed, more from anger than pain, and thrust her broom forward deceptively, sending Whirda’s attacking blade out wide. The orbs at her sides flashed again, and this time Whirda truly had no chance to counter. The projectiles caught her in the shoulder and chest, the stinging strikes setting her back on her heels. Whirda growled, bullying through the pain and surging forward.
As they approached the edge of the platform, Whirda’s slashes and jabs showed no signs of relenting. Each combatant knew the terms of victory in this fight—to fall from the platform meant elimination, and now the girl’s heels rocked on the edge of that very precipice.
Whirda pushed on, enacting another spell from her diverse repertoire, this time foregoing the abilities of the shade and calling on the magic of her past, of her mother, from Faerûn. A gust of wind separated the two combatants, hurling the girl off the edge of the raised platform and into open air.
The girl, her vision clearing as the brief effects of the shadechill toxin wore off, maintained the presence of mind to flip one leg nimbly over her broomstick, enacting the power of flight. Instead of hitting the ground and losing the battle, instead she soared up and over the platform, laughing when she took note of Whirda’s surprised stare.
But Whirda, no stranger to flying foes, had feigned the reaction. Three umbral daggers coalesced before her outstretched palm, soaring toward her airborne foe. Two of the daggers soared harmlessly wide, but the third sliced across the girl’s cheek before dissipating.
The girl faltered in her flight and Whirda seized the advantage, slipping her daggers into their sheaths. A second gust of wind launched Whirda high into the air and she caught the tail-end of the girl’s broomstick, dangling in midair. Flexing her wiry muscles, Whirda twisted on the broomstick’s axis, planting both feet into the girl’s side and shoving her off the flying object.
To Whirda’s astonishment, while the girl cried out in pain, she remained aloft, the flight spell maintaining its effect. Whirda plummeted, reorienting herself and landing on the platform. A jolt of pain lanced through her feet and ankles.
Whirda looked up just in time to see a flask, hurled at her by the grinning girl, strike the ground a few meters in front of her. While not very painful, the sheer concussive force of the resulting blast sent her skidding painfully across the platform.
She growled and vanished once more.
Quote:849/850 words, no super moves used.
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