12-17-2015, 08:36 PM
Magus thrashed against the bandit’s strength, bubbles frothing along the surface along with the fragments of ice. The man’s hands found no purchase as the slipped and slid over the frozen surface of the lake, and neither could his shoes find any traction. His back helpless arched as the woman cackled and mashed his face downward, like a high school bully delivering a swirly to a drama student.
“Ya know,” she pondered, her arms jerking about as she restrained him, “despite my trying, I don’t think I’ve managed to kill any Primes since I switched teams.” She knotted her fingers into the man’s long, white hair, and pushed down with her entire body weight. “Don’t think I’ve ever drowned a man either.” She laughed to herself briefly and chuckled out, “First time for everything, right?”
As the bubbles slowly trickled to a stop and the magister’s limbs gradually ceased their flailing, she gave him one more solid jerk and released him.
It was then that everything went wrong.
The suddenness and the intensity of the heat was what threw her off, and she was cast to the ground as the huge wall of flames surged out in every direction. The thin layer of white was peeled off of the ice, and scorched the earth when it met the shoreline. The woman helplessly batted at her face, the spell having burnt away a good portion of her hair and nearly blinded her, patches of smoking skin instantly peeling back.
“Diablo’s fucking ass crack!” she shouted, rolling back and forth, her hands clasped over her face. “Why do none of you people just die?!”
The blinked away the remains of her eyelashes with just enough time to see another Gloom bolt whizzing towards her. She tucked herself to the side, and the shadow energy tore the earth away in a huge plume of frost-bitten dirt. Reversing her direction, she tumbled over the crater as another ball of shadow blasted a new one. Continuing her movement, she managed to make it back up, only for the waterlogged magician to slam headlong into her gut.
Snorting, she looped her thick arms under his chin and arched her back, pulling his head into a standing guillotine choke. His hands scrabbled over her backplate, but he was unable to pry himself free, once again trapped in the burly wrestler’s hold.
Without so much as a snippy comment, she unceremoniously ripped his body up into the air by his neck, his feet flying off the ground with whiplash-inducing speed. At the apex of the lift, she stepped forward into a one-legged kneel, and then slammed him back down into her knee. There was a series of loud cracks as several of his ribs found new and interesting ways to orient themselves. A lamentable and uncontrolled shriek echoed out as the air was forced from his lungs, though he sputtered when he attempted to inhale once again.
“Alright,” the gladiator gasped, taking several long, hard breaths between her words. “Let’s try that again.”
Though he was still conscious, Magus could do little in the way of retaliation when she took him by the hair and began to drag him back to the hole in the ice he had just escaped. Shallow, labored breaths was all that the conqueror could manage, even as she carelessly plopped him into the water. She planted her boot on his upper back and pressed down firmly, the grind of bone-on-bone crepitus crackling in time with the last vestiges of breath.
“And stay down this time,” she spat.
Finally convinced of the man’s death, she dredged him free of the drowning pool and rolled him over, giving his effects a once-over. Other than a leather-stitched codpiece and some decent boots, she didn’t see much that caught her eye. Sighing, she glared over at the man’s scythe and shrugged. “I guess it’ll have to do,” she whined, contemplating the idea of lugging around yet another big, heavy weapon.
Trudging across the snow, she stopped, huffed despondently, grasped the handle, and tore it free. She rolled the huge weapon over, hefting it up and down to get a feel for its weight and balance. Her brow furrowed when she recalled Magus’ ability to summon it to himself, and focused on doing it for herself. With a puff of obsidian mist, the entirety of the blade vanished. She grinned, and brought the thought of it returning into her mind. With the same wisp of dark clouds, it appeared once again.
“Heh, well that’s pretty sweet at least,” she admitted, then twirled it between her fingers.
A sudden chill washed over her, and she assumed it was just another breeze until she noticed the inky shadow that welled up around her feet. “That’s mine,” a voice croaked from behind. Spinning on her heel, the grave-robber caught a wad of magic to the gut, flinging her through the air like a ragdoll.
Tumbling wildly through the air, she lashed out with the blade, stabbing it into the snow. It dragged through the ground and eventually brought her to a stop mid-air, she then swung around the weapon and took a heavy landing on her feet. She squinted across the snowy wasteland, almost unable to believe the man was still capable of moving, let alone fighting. “What the actual fuck.”
The bitter combatant hadn’t managed to pull himself completely off the ground, but he sat half propped up, his hand extended. “Child,” he rasped, “I have survived far worse than you.”
Scoffing, the woman yanked the scythe up and snapped back, “Not for long you haven’t.”
She tucked down her shoulder and pushed her foot into the ground, building up speed like a train on the rails. Her footfalls began to splinter the ice with every impact, cracks forming in a trail of her rampage. Magus snarled and hurled yet another attack at her, but this time she made no attempt to avoid it. Instead, she ploughed through in a glorious blossom of metal, smoke and gloom, shrapnel flying in every direction. She did not relent in her determined, plodding charge, even as another blossom of shadow and agony bloomed on her hip and shoulder.
Screaming in primordial rage and pain, the dune-dweller filled Magus’ vision, and somewhere inside of him, he knew that it was over.
She swung the heavy blade, and with a SNIKT and a spray of blood, Magus’ head flew from his shoulders.
“Ya know,” she pondered, her arms jerking about as she restrained him, “despite my trying, I don’t think I’ve managed to kill any Primes since I switched teams.” She knotted her fingers into the man’s long, white hair, and pushed down with her entire body weight. “Don’t think I’ve ever drowned a man either.” She laughed to herself briefly and chuckled out, “First time for everything, right?”
As the bubbles slowly trickled to a stop and the magister’s limbs gradually ceased their flailing, she gave him one more solid jerk and released him.
It was then that everything went wrong.
The suddenness and the intensity of the heat was what threw her off, and she was cast to the ground as the huge wall of flames surged out in every direction. The thin layer of white was peeled off of the ice, and scorched the earth when it met the shoreline. The woman helplessly batted at her face, the spell having burnt away a good portion of her hair and nearly blinded her, patches of smoking skin instantly peeling back.
“Diablo’s fucking ass crack!” she shouted, rolling back and forth, her hands clasped over her face. “Why do none of you people just die?!”
The blinked away the remains of her eyelashes with just enough time to see another Gloom bolt whizzing towards her. She tucked herself to the side, and the shadow energy tore the earth away in a huge plume of frost-bitten dirt. Reversing her direction, she tumbled over the crater as another ball of shadow blasted a new one. Continuing her movement, she managed to make it back up, only for the waterlogged magician to slam headlong into her gut.
Snorting, she looped her thick arms under his chin and arched her back, pulling his head into a standing guillotine choke. His hands scrabbled over her backplate, but he was unable to pry himself free, once again trapped in the burly wrestler’s hold.
Without so much as a snippy comment, she unceremoniously ripped his body up into the air by his neck, his feet flying off the ground with whiplash-inducing speed. At the apex of the lift, she stepped forward into a one-legged kneel, and then slammed him back down into her knee. There was a series of loud cracks as several of his ribs found new and interesting ways to orient themselves. A lamentable and uncontrolled shriek echoed out as the air was forced from his lungs, though he sputtered when he attempted to inhale once again.
“Alright,” the gladiator gasped, taking several long, hard breaths between her words. “Let’s try that again.”
Though he was still conscious, Magus could do little in the way of retaliation when she took him by the hair and began to drag him back to the hole in the ice he had just escaped. Shallow, labored breaths was all that the conqueror could manage, even as she carelessly plopped him into the water. She planted her boot on his upper back and pressed down firmly, the grind of bone-on-bone crepitus crackling in time with the last vestiges of breath.
“And stay down this time,” she spat.
Finally convinced of the man’s death, she dredged him free of the drowning pool and rolled him over, giving his effects a once-over. Other than a leather-stitched codpiece and some decent boots, she didn’t see much that caught her eye. Sighing, she glared over at the man’s scythe and shrugged. “I guess it’ll have to do,” she whined, contemplating the idea of lugging around yet another big, heavy weapon.
Trudging across the snow, she stopped, huffed despondently, grasped the handle, and tore it free. She rolled the huge weapon over, hefting it up and down to get a feel for its weight and balance. Her brow furrowed when she recalled Magus’ ability to summon it to himself, and focused on doing it for herself. With a puff of obsidian mist, the entirety of the blade vanished. She grinned, and brought the thought of it returning into her mind. With the same wisp of dark clouds, it appeared once again.
“Heh, well that’s pretty sweet at least,” she admitted, then twirled it between her fingers.
A sudden chill washed over her, and she assumed it was just another breeze until she noticed the inky shadow that welled up around her feet. “That’s mine,” a voice croaked from behind. Spinning on her heel, the grave-robber caught a wad of magic to the gut, flinging her through the air like a ragdoll.
Tumbling wildly through the air, she lashed out with the blade, stabbing it into the snow. It dragged through the ground and eventually brought her to a stop mid-air, she then swung around the weapon and took a heavy landing on her feet. She squinted across the snowy wasteland, almost unable to believe the man was still capable of moving, let alone fighting. “What the actual fuck.”
The bitter combatant hadn’t managed to pull himself completely off the ground, but he sat half propped up, his hand extended. “Child,” he rasped, “I have survived far worse than you.”
Scoffing, the woman yanked the scythe up and snapped back, “Not for long you haven’t.”
She tucked down her shoulder and pushed her foot into the ground, building up speed like a train on the rails. Her footfalls began to splinter the ice with every impact, cracks forming in a trail of her rampage. Magus snarled and hurled yet another attack at her, but this time she made no attempt to avoid it. Instead, she ploughed through in a glorious blossom of metal, smoke and gloom, shrapnel flying in every direction. She did not relent in her determined, plodding charge, even as another blossom of shadow and agony bloomed on her hip and shoulder.
Screaming in primordial rage and pain, the dune-dweller filled Magus’ vision, and somewhere inside of him, he knew that it was over.
She swung the heavy blade, and with a SNIKT and a spray of blood, Magus’ head flew from his shoulders.