[Lair 1v1] Ghosts of Time (Shaheen/Mort)

[medigel]

That . . . was not a good sound. Normally it would be, but Mort had unwittingly struck War's pride in battle a wound - and in one who was visibly in civil dispute with her own body and mind already. So really he wasn't so surprised that the horseman had struck back almost immediately, though wings - that was new.

Or . . . no, birds hated him. Being hit with wings was not new. Being hit with a katana, though . . .

Instinctively when the wing battered him back, he used Thor to defend himself once more and slam back with the plated arm, unable to get a charge so quick after his Fear had expended the electricity. But the attack hadn't even been that draining, why would . . . Jack damn it. Why wasn't his head in the game? If he was so desperate to get allies, he would have thought that would translate into battle skills somehow. A hero on a quest was supposed to go through trials and tribulations, yes, but . . . A few more hits and the horsemen would be walking away with a scoff.

HP: 20
Damage: 3
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

As she was mid turn, the hit took her square between the shoulder blades, which made her grit her teeth and stumble forward a little, though her wings continued to move, spreading behind her as necessary to keep her balance, and her golden eyes cast a quick and narrowed glance at her student opponent from over one shoulder.

Muttering a curse under her breath that sounded more like she was chastising herself then being upset with him, she turned around completely before launching herself forward, pushing off with the foot she chose to pivot on, her wings giving powerful strokes to add strength and power to her maneuvers as she threw herself directly at the student, intent on barreling him down into the dirt with nothing more then brute force.

If her dagger had just happened to be pointed at him when they collided, that was just an added bonus.

HP: 26
Damage: 9
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC  

[medigel]

Try as Mort might, he wasn't ready for the lunge. He had been desperately trying to channel energy back into his numb fingers, but for whatever reason nothing was coming through - like there was some sort of dampener blocking his circuits. Had something broken? No, he would have felt something uncomfortable. Then what was it? Why was he feeling weaker instead of stronger these days? Insanity couldn't be affecting his Fear levels this bad, could they . . . ?

The frustration and anger built up into a hissed, "s**t - !" before the horseman collided and drove her weapon into him. Though built sturdy, his legs couldn't stop them from toppling backward, and with a yowl Mort hit the ground. Electricity or not, he did try to force her off, scrabbling to grab something to yank.

HP: 11
Damage: Mort you dummy
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

She had him down on the ground, her dagger pressing into him, and she was preparing herself to raise it up only to plunge it down again, and again if necessary, to force it through that pesky Fear shield and show this boy that he couldn't just electrocute her and get away with it. This was the time when her rage usually amp'd itself up to full throttle, and she would just let go of everything else, and let whatever happens, happen.

But for some reason, today, it was different. He hadn't really harmed her much in return since his electrifying earlier attack, so maybe that was why. Whatever the case my be, she found herself looking down into the face of nothing more then a child, and she felt bad about what she was doing to him. He might not have shown the signs, but he said he had insanity. She knew what that was like. She knew how it felt to be on the losing end of every spar and battle, to have many treat her with disdain. She knew the doubt, the paranoia and suspicion. She knew, and yet here she was, and now she felt as though she could exploit that knowledge, and for what? To beat the undying flesh off of this student?

With a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, and one last small push against her dagger, she rolled off of him and back to her feet, then gestured at him to get up.

"Are you finished yet?" She demanded, jaw clenching as soon as the words were out, and golden eyes studying him as she waited for his answer.

HP: 26
Damage: 1
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

The zomboil hissed in pain as she pulled herself off, his bones aching from consecutive hard blows from the dagger - the one good thing about having more flesh was that at least it could be a sort of buffer. Right now he felt like had there not been a shield up, he would have had scores along his bones by now. More than that, though, he felt weak.

And the horseman standing boredly over him only heightened that grating notion into his nerves. She didn't think he was worth the effort.

Gritting his teeth, he put on an act and hung his head, letting himself shakily get to his knees as he wiped blood off his coat. "N-Not . . ." His fingers flexed as he then got to his feet, twitching with anger or energy, he didn't know; his legs quivered similarly and added to the effect.

He wavered in place for one moment longer to get himself together. The only prelude to his sudden feral lunge was the snarl ripped out of him: "Not even close!" Fingers curled into fists as he mimicked her full-body tackle, using his right shoulder to take the brunt of the crash as Thor was swung in a left hook.

HP: 10
Damage: 6
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

She continued to watch him. He just looked so defeated and broken, she was sure that it was over. He didn't have anything left, and was no longer worth her time or effort. But she knew better then to turn her back on him, or to desummon her dagger. No, she still watched him, even if she let the battle ready tension in her muscles begin to relax ever so slightly.

There was really no warning at all. At least, not enough for her to react any differently then she did The boy was staggering to his feet, head hanging, movements seemingly lethargic.

And then he was suddenly on her, screaming words that she barely heard over the sudden roaring of warning that filled her head. Her teeth clenched, but she still made a small noise at the impact. She tried to bring her dagger arm up, but she found it pinned down by his body against hers as she fell to the ground, wings splaying out beneath her. She tried to push against him, but he was surprisingly heavy, and the air was knocked out of her in a fairly audible whooshing sound, which didn't make things much easier.

Eyes narrowed up at him, she couldn't help the smirk that tugged up the corners of her lips.

This was much better.


HP: 20
Damage:
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC

Ol-j-man

have a lame taaaaaag~

 

[medigel]

He didn't have a plan for this: just hurtle himself at her and see what happened. It was easier to lose himself to his inhibitions, the violent side that he knew dwelled under his normally passive outlook when it came to battle. Maybe it was the Insanity. Maybe it was because of how she treated him. Maybe it was neither and Mort was secretly a bloodluster when desperate.

Either way, a feral snarl left him as they crashed to the ground, not letting up as zombies were wont to do when they had live prey in their grasp. Clawing at the arm that held her dagger, he tried to establish a firm grip and keep her down as he went the zombie natural way: trying to bite at whatever he could get. While her shield would protect her from contagion, it was never pleasant to have sharp teeth sink into skin.

HP: 10
Damage: 6
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill

Seussi

i guess he decided to start doing real damage late into the party XD

 

[Seussi]

It at first seemed as though she was at his mercy, her dagger arm pinned and now being grabbed as well. Yet somehow, she didn't seem to concerned. Not even when teeth flashed down and sunk into her skin. Certainly it was unpleasant, and painful, and a little strange to be on the receiving end of such an attack, but with the feral mounts of war it was not unheard of...

And this boy was certainly behaving in a feral manner. Struggling beneath him, she first attempted to push up against him, rocking her body to the side in an attempt to throw him off. Her wings, which she had first let lay spread out beneath her, folded upwards to beat against his face in a quick flurry of feathers meant more to distract then harm.

And then her dagger was gone from the tainted solid mass of grey that was her right hand, reappearing in her left, which she struggled free and then brought down in a strike directed between the zombies shoulder blades.


HP: 14
Damage: 8
Fear: Y3 Battlecry-used, Y2 Battlecry

Ol-j-man

wooooooo~

 

[medigel]

The feathery buffeting was more than enough to confound him, hissing through his teeth as he batted them away - only to have a howl rip from him as the dagger sank into his back. His shield was wavering as was his strength, but Mort would be damned if he came this far and then cried uncle. Better to be dissipated and leave an impression than back out and look cowardly. Even if that might have been the smarter thing to do.

He didn't have much time left, though, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Snarling, he spat blood and dug Thor's metal class into her skin, charging up a shock. What was different this time, however, was the flash of nauseous color, green and orange and even a bit of black, just before the electricity was let loose. He had forgotten about the Distortion he had been saving, used to the constant craves by now. Not nearly as bad as the whispers in comparison.

HP: 2
Damage: 5 + 2 = 7 dmg
Distortion Left: 3
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Shaheen had simply lost herself in the moment. The whispers might have raged on in her head, but for now they were actually almost easy to ignore in favor of the battle that waged outside of it. When the boil dug his claws into the flesh just above and to the side of her stomach, piercing the skin above her rib cage, she paid it little mind. Claws were nothing new to her, even if these ones were made of cold steel.

No, what was new, and what she kept forgetting about, was the electrical charge that these claws could generate. A surge of electricity jolted through her, and her back arched off of the ground, her wings plastering flat against the earth as she gritted her teeth and rocked her head back with her eyes closed. Even with her eyelids shut, however, it was hard to ignore the orange and green light that filtered through, or the way the whispers in her head almost seemed to cease for just an instant.....

Before it had ended, and they returned, and her eyes flew open, her hand tightening on the blade that was still dug into the zombies back, and twisting it harder into his flesh.


HP: 7
Damage: 2. ide.
Fear: Y3 Battlecry-used, Y2 Battlecry  

[medigel]

That dagger was becoming a nuisance. A nuisance that cracked his barrier with a pop and made him feel rather vulnerable now. The pain seemed to double almost immediately, and though he tried to grit his teeth against it, a strained whimper escaped him.

He really ought to stop now. She'd taken the Fear shield down, so it was pretty much over.

But that would require logic, and right now he was just beyond its grasp. Mort only knew pain and whispers, and continually hearing the horseman's monotonous taunt in his ears pushed him to keep going. She needed to know how desperate he was in this endeavor - desperate enough to attack even when the battle had already been lost.

Growling, he twisted an arm backwards to grab at the dagger, yanking it out with a soundless whimper before tossing it; a useless action, but he was determined to get it out and make her annoyed either way. And then Mort did the only thing he thought to do when little thought was going on at all.

He bashed his head against her.

HP: 0
Damage: 3 yes he is still going ide
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

His claws bore deep into her skin, the pain becoming more urgent as blood welled up from the wounds and began to trickle down her side. She knew what this must look like to anybody passing by. A horsewoman of war, losing a battle against something so pathetically weak as an initiate.

But she was not losing. She knew that the second she felt something give beneath her dagger, a sensation that she learned to recognize after countless years of training and practice and sparring and battles. Her own Fear shield might be weakening, but his had just given out completely.

It was over for him. Even when he yanked her dagger out of his back and flung it away, she let him do it. Even if her self satisfied smirk only resulted in a head that bashed against her own, she still knew she held the advantage.

Though her head was fairly exploding with the pain the strike caused, she began to laugh, then stopped only to his from between clenched teeth.

"You did it wrong."

She then preceded to lunge upwards and towards him, using her last reserves of strength to battle against the pinned position he had held her in, and bashed her head back into his, tit for tat.

Only her tit was a lot bigger then his. >>


HP: 4
Damage: 7
Fear: Y3 Battlecry-used, Y2 Battlecry

Ol-j-man

don't even ask about that last line I can't even

 

[medigel]

And here Mort had thought he was a hardheaded person - no, Shaheen had that pat down and he learned it first hand. The zomboil barely managed more than a strangled cry, his glasses cracking as glass broke apart and pressed against his face or fell. He slumped backward, the world spinning as he spat out blood and struggled against the inevitable.

Her laughter was the last sound ringing in his ear when he succumbed to darkness and stilled. Thor's humming grew quieter and quieter until the energy stopped its course and fell silent.

HP: -7 wtg

Seussi

hi have a crap tag. we could skip to some sort of aftermath in the pony infirmary if you want~

 

[Seussi]

Well, that had apparently done it. The war chieftain felt a body sag on top of hers, and she was quick to roll it off of herself with a small grunt of exertion. The spar had left her winded, bleeding, and probably bruised as well, though her Fear would take of most of that given a little bit of time.

She was still chuckling to herself as she staggered to her feet, reaching up to push back hair that had tangled in front of her face at some point, and then gave a quick glance around, mostly to make sure they hadn't drawn a crowd of spectators, which thankfully they hadn't.

She then looked down to the unconscious body at her feet. What to do, what to do. She was more then tempted to just leave him there and let somebody else deal with it, but that seemed a little unfair. But then again, why would she care about fair? He had gone into the fight knowing the terms of their agreement, and he had lost, though not without impressing her first.

The chuckling stopped, her smile slipping away as she pursed her lips together and considered, though anybody paying close enough attention would see the sheen of sweat across her brow, the small twitching of muscles in her arms and legs, and the way she wavered ever so slightly on her feet.

------------------

The boy would awaken in the horsemen's version of the infirmary, a blonde headed woman of war sitting nearby with her back up against a wall, eyes focused on something that she was holding almost gingerly in her hands, with a roll of tape sitting in her lap.

She looked like she was concentrating very hard on a pair of somewhat put back together but still in rough shape glasses.  

[medigel]

He wasn't unused to waking up in the infirmary at this point, though it smelled . . . different than he remembered. Mrrrr. Mort squinted at the ceiling before shutting his eyes again with a wince. His head was throbbing as if he'd - he'd hit something. Hard. And harder still, he was starting to remember, by butting heads . . . And then the whispers seeped back into his senses and he grimaced further, lifting a shaky hand to press to one side of his face as if that might shush them.

A groan heralded the return of full consciousness. Managing to pry an eye open, Mort glanced about with thoroughly blurry vision. The person at his side wasn't a redhead, so that was confusing. Nor was the infirmary the sterile white he remembered. Nor were there glow bugs. Wait . . . Right. Lair. With a grunt the zomboil sat up, face scrunched but both eyes open now to look at the woman. "M'up," he mumbled, noticing she had something in her lap but not quite identifying it. A he groped for his glasses and found thin air. Great. "Mrrr . . . We good? Or have t'try again?" He sounded neutral, even dutiful on the subject; if need be, he literally would pull himself out of the cot and fall on her to start a new fight if need be.