07-02-2018, 03:38 PM
With an ominous rumble, the storm swept over Bilgewater. A mass of black clouds scudded over the combatants, skeins of lightning rippling across its swollen underbelly. As Whirda stalked her furry foe, her measured steps keeping her just outside the reach of his broadsword, the first fat raindrops fell.
Rip him, the eager voice implored. Tear him to shreds.
Whirda sublimated the urge, drawing a steadying breath. Ever lurking in the annals of her mind, her shadeborn alter ego came more readily now, its bloodthirst—its lust for power—heightened by the bloody battles of Dante’s Abyss.
Unleash me. Let them know the truth of Whirda Windstrom.
“No.” The word emerged as a guttural grunt, primal in its defiance. Yet even as she denied its pleading she felt the leylines of shadow tighten around her, the thrumming rhythm coaxing the contagion forth. When she turned her gaze on the diminutive beast, her eyes crackled electric blue.
Ricter took a cautious step back, sensing the change in Whirda’s demeanor. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his broadsword. Unaccustomed to face-to-face combat, he looked anxiously toward his green-skinned ally.
Seizing on the moment of weakness, Whirda pounced. Twirling her daggers into a reverse grip, she opened with a flurry of overhand slashes, crisscrossing the beast’s fur with angry red lines. Recovering quickly, Ricter twisted nimbly to the left, accepting another deep gash before diving free of the initial onslaught.
Undeterred, Whirda bullied forward, bringing her closed fists together in a devious feint, the blades of her daggers inches apart as she chopped down. Predictably, Ricter brought the broadsword up in a horizontal arc and parried both blades. The screech of metal on metal pierced the very marrow of their bones. What Whirda’s furry foe didn’t see was the jerk of Whirda’s leg, concealed by the interlocked blades, as a swift kick doubled him over, the broadsword dipping low.
A moment later the pommels of both daggers crunched into the beast’s temples, dropping him to the rain-slick cobblestones in a heap.
When the golden glow suffused her adversary Yuuka took a cautious step back, regarding her opponent with new respect. Had it been the Pepsi, she wondered—had Cell, a mere novice in the school of cool, refreshing beverages, unlocked some hidden property Whirda and Yuuka had not? Or had it all been a cunning ruse?
The latter option seemed most likely as Cell clenched both hands into fists, lavender blades flaring to life in his grasp.
Yuuka blocked the first brutal chop, the sheer power of the attack reverberating through the parasol’s shaft and numbing her fingers. Sensing she was outmatched, the Youkai spun and fled, seeking a more defensible position. She dove through the doorway of the bar, tucking into a somersault and coming up in a run, disappearing from sight.
Snarling, Cell gave chase.
Entering the room, Cell glanced around quickly—too quickly—and sprinted toward the rear of the chamber, where a second door stood ajar.
As soon as he passed, the shadows around the doorway exploded into motion. Cell marked the telltale glimmer of Whirda’s blades and turned to meet his ambusher, but even his enhanced skill was no match for Whirda’s agility. She set upon him with a blinding attack routine, both daggers dipping and feinting in perfect harmony. In the first few seconds of the exchange the alien fighter accumulated a dozen nicks and cuts.
Cell staggered back, ignoring the pain. He managed to angle Ki Edge and block the next attack. When the umbral serpents wound around his wrists, he realized his error.
“Now,” Whirda called.
From the back of the chamber emerged Yuuka, leveling her parasol at the struggling fighter. The blast ripped into his defenseless form, shredding green flesh and spattering Whirda’s face and arms with purple blood.
With a cough, Cell slumped to the floor.
“The other one?” Yuuka asked, looking to Whirda.
“Handled.”
The Youkai smirked. “This is easier than I thought.”
“All thanks to the refreshing taste of Pepsi,” Whirda droned, her voice flat and sardonic.
A feral roar from Cell disrupted their mirth. The alien fighter stumbled to his feet, one hand held over his head, his gnarled fingers crackling with electricity. Faster than either woman could react, the sizzling energy coalesced into a whirring, yellow disc. Cell unleashed the attack, his mouth twisted in a wordless, agonized snarl.
Whirda fell back, throwing her hands in front of her face. With a rush of air the disc passed harmlessly wide, slicing through a wooden pillar in the center of the room before smashing through the far wall and into the adjoining alley.
“You missed?” Yuuka gawked.
Cell bared his teeth—a humorless grin. “I never miss.”
An audible groan filled the chamber, followed by the cracking and splintering of wood. Both women shot each other a horrified glance, the truth of the situation settling in too late. The room seemed to shiver and lurch around them, the grind of things breaking filling their ears. Then the ceiling collapsed, burying all three combatants in an avalanche of debris.
Outside on the street, Ricter stirred.
Rip him, the eager voice implored. Tear him to shreds.
Whirda sublimated the urge, drawing a steadying breath. Ever lurking in the annals of her mind, her shadeborn alter ego came more readily now, its bloodthirst—its lust for power—heightened by the bloody battles of Dante’s Abyss.
Unleash me. Let them know the truth of Whirda Windstrom.
“No.” The word emerged as a guttural grunt, primal in its defiance. Yet even as she denied its pleading she felt the leylines of shadow tighten around her, the thrumming rhythm coaxing the contagion forth. When she turned her gaze on the diminutive beast, her eyes crackled electric blue.
Ricter took a cautious step back, sensing the change in Whirda’s demeanor. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his broadsword. Unaccustomed to face-to-face combat, he looked anxiously toward his green-skinned ally.
Seizing on the moment of weakness, Whirda pounced. Twirling her daggers into a reverse grip, she opened with a flurry of overhand slashes, crisscrossing the beast’s fur with angry red lines. Recovering quickly, Ricter twisted nimbly to the left, accepting another deep gash before diving free of the initial onslaught.
Undeterred, Whirda bullied forward, bringing her closed fists together in a devious feint, the blades of her daggers inches apart as she chopped down. Predictably, Ricter brought the broadsword up in a horizontal arc and parried both blades. The screech of metal on metal pierced the very marrow of their bones. What Whirda’s furry foe didn’t see was the jerk of Whirda’s leg, concealed by the interlocked blades, as a swift kick doubled him over, the broadsword dipping low.
A moment later the pommels of both daggers crunched into the beast’s temples, dropping him to the rain-slick cobblestones in a heap.
*****
When the golden glow suffused her adversary Yuuka took a cautious step back, regarding her opponent with new respect. Had it been the Pepsi, she wondered—had Cell, a mere novice in the school of cool, refreshing beverages, unlocked some hidden property Whirda and Yuuka had not? Or had it all been a cunning ruse?
The latter option seemed most likely as Cell clenched both hands into fists, lavender blades flaring to life in his grasp.
Yuuka blocked the first brutal chop, the sheer power of the attack reverberating through the parasol’s shaft and numbing her fingers. Sensing she was outmatched, the Youkai spun and fled, seeking a more defensible position. She dove through the doorway of the bar, tucking into a somersault and coming up in a run, disappearing from sight.
Snarling, Cell gave chase.
*****
Entering the room, Cell glanced around quickly—too quickly—and sprinted toward the rear of the chamber, where a second door stood ajar.
As soon as he passed, the shadows around the doorway exploded into motion. Cell marked the telltale glimmer of Whirda’s blades and turned to meet his ambusher, but even his enhanced skill was no match for Whirda’s agility. She set upon him with a blinding attack routine, both daggers dipping and feinting in perfect harmony. In the first few seconds of the exchange the alien fighter accumulated a dozen nicks and cuts.
Cell staggered back, ignoring the pain. He managed to angle Ki Edge and block the next attack. When the umbral serpents wound around his wrists, he realized his error.
“Now,” Whirda called.
From the back of the chamber emerged Yuuka, leveling her parasol at the struggling fighter. The blast ripped into his defenseless form, shredding green flesh and spattering Whirda’s face and arms with purple blood.
With a cough, Cell slumped to the floor.
“The other one?” Yuuka asked, looking to Whirda.
“Handled.”
The Youkai smirked. “This is easier than I thought.”
“All thanks to the refreshing taste of Pepsi,” Whirda droned, her voice flat and sardonic.
A feral roar from Cell disrupted their mirth. The alien fighter stumbled to his feet, one hand held over his head, his gnarled fingers crackling with electricity. Faster than either woman could react, the sizzling energy coalesced into a whirring, yellow disc. Cell unleashed the attack, his mouth twisted in a wordless, agonized snarl.
Whirda fell back, throwing her hands in front of her face. With a rush of air the disc passed harmlessly wide, slicing through a wooden pillar in the center of the room before smashing through the far wall and into the adjoining alley.
“You missed?” Yuuka gawked.
Cell bared his teeth—a humorless grin. “I never miss.”
An audible groan filled the chamber, followed by the cracking and splintering of wood. Both women shot each other a horrified glance, the truth of the situation settling in too late. The room seemed to shiver and lurch around them, the grind of things breaking filling their ears. Then the ceiling collapsed, burying all three combatants in an avalanche of debris.
*****
Outside on the street, Ricter stirred.
Quote:849/850 words
Whirda used her T1 Power Up for one round (3/5 SP remaining).
Stats this round:
ATK: 4
DEF: 4
SPD: 5
TEC: 5