A Beautiful Day to Die.

[Ioder]

“Get off of me you little fiend!” Ioder yelled just as the fox closed his jaw upon the nape of his neck. He still well in the air started to flail both his leg and wings as his arms reached back behind his head to grab the fox. The furry bastard had completely taken the Seraphim by surprise with his stealthy and light footed paws. His smallish teeth dig into Ioder’s flesh as the two started to ascend higher and higher into the air from Ioder’s struggling. With Ioder’s heavy clawed gaunt he forced his hand upon the foxes neck grabbing hold of it tight.

Ripping the fox off his gashed neck wasn’t difficult but the damage that this fox was capable of had been done. Ioder’s vision started to blur from the pain of his neck, he clutched the neck of the fox just before casting his weight aside over the edge of the bridge.

“Philomel!” Ioder yelled at the top of his scratching voice. Down below he knew that Philomel had bee hurt by his blade and was week. “Philomel, come out you bitch. Look at what I did to you little doggy.” He yelled again trying to lure the faun out so he could deliver his last blow. The faun was quick on her feet; even with a wound he expected nothing less from her. Ioder lowered himself just too about ten feet of the ground, he looked for the faun.

“C’mon! One final clash!” Ioder yelled challenging the faun into ending the fight like warriors. “Let end this and get on our way. We both have better places to be.” Ioder said in malice mannor.

[Philomel]

Down.

That was what she felt, the weight of the world crashing around her as Veridian was whisked away over the edge of the bridge. She could feel the whisper of the wing through his fur, the cold chill of the breeze on his teeth. They were still clenched tight together, the remains of the scraps of skin and flesh that he had managed to prize free from the nape of the angel's neck. In his thoughts there was no pain, just a fresh sense of adorned joy as he felt he was flying, way way down the side of the arching structure. Was there water below? He could not tell. Was there just air? He could not know. All he did was close his eyes and tell Philomel firmly.

Finish this, beloved.

Then he removed himself from her mind entirely, so that she could no longer feel his presence.

Fouly, this creature, their fair-faced opponent, snarled her back to reality. Philomel blinked, and opened her eyes, uncertain of what was occurring. Her mind was fuzzy for a moment, somewhere between loss of blood and loss of her companion's mental touch. Dimly she looked around, trying to focus forwards as Ioder jibbed.

"Come out you bitch, look at what I did to your little doggy ..."

Not in the slightest amused, the Nightingale blinked, then frowned. Slowly her face twisted in the direction of the terribly rude thing and she found herself stepping fully into the light, from under the shadow of the archway.

"He is not a dog," she frowned more.

She moved her hands fast, letting him continue to talk about finishing off this tirade. Arching her eyebrows she shook her head and kept repeating as he jabbered on.

"He is not a dog," said she, placing away her sword with one smooth action, and grabbing her fabric belt with the next.

Yanking on it, she pulled the already partially ripped and ruined material, causing it to fall away rather quickly. She saw Ioder begin to realise what she was doing, and his wings began to rapidly swing with action in order to charge her from a height. With her spare hand she placed it, palm flat on to the ground, keeping it straight and unbent.

"He is not a dog," she stressed.

Effortlessly she swung up the fabric and hurried tied a knot to form a temporary bandage for her injured arm. As eyes were kept on her she began to form the energy in her head, enough to find every dredge of dust in a metre perameter, ones that hid between the linings of the cobbles and had fallen from the sky.

"He ish noft a dogsh," muffled she as she tied the knot tight between mouth and uninjured arm.

Ioder was clean within striking distance. He moved, and he struck, down and hard, whether angered by her apparent lack of want to fight, or the repetition of her words. As his blades moved, however, Philomel's palm flicked up. All at once the dirt and dust between them flicked up, hard and brutal, forming a temporary cloud. She launched it, true and hard, earth magic beyond all reason, straight into the angellic thing's face, without warning and with brutal reality. As soon as she had done she ducked once more, out of the way of any blades or arrows, and just letting the storm that she made smash into Ioder's face and eyes and cause what damage could utterly be beautiful done.

[Ioder]

A dust storm or at least the cloud that consumed Ioder felt like it was. Dirt and dust flushed his face as he hastily attacked the injured faun. He intended to kill her without any resistance but when she just bandaged herself up he grew furious. To take time out of their heated fight to tend to one’s wounds, it was insulting. Ioder’s eyes were wide open as her surprise attack hit him, the dust and dirt making direct contact with his venerable pupils.

“It stings!” Ioder yelled as he flung his bladed arm through the dust cloud flailing to strike down the faun. Again and again he swung through the cloud all in vain; Philomel had clearly backed up to get out of his reach. With a couple mighty beats oh his wings the dust cloud disappeared leaving Ioder still hovering off the ground and ascending higher and higher once again. Ioder letting out a slight chuckle for the fauns wonderfully executed attack, the damage from it was little but very effective.

“I can’t see now. Philomel, you are a very hard person to read.” Ioder said admitting her attack had rendered his defenseless. This was no jest; Ioder had blurry vision at best. Still he ascended higher, with no real plan on how to end this fight. “But you madam with almost little effort have rendered me limited.” He said with one hand constantly rubbing his eyes. Just by keeping a general idea of his location Ioder knew he was located roughly above the center of the bridge.

This is not good, my magic is limited and my vision blurred. There is only one outcome. Ioder thought to himself as he stopped ascending. Just behind him there should have been an arch way closed he had just reached high enough to land on. Slowly he moved back and felt the edge of the tower with his boot. Taking the moment to firmly plant his feet Ioder decided that this fight was more or less already over. He had no real idea even where the faun was at this point. She for all he knows had silently climbed the tower and was already behind him ready to slit his neck.

“Well finish it faun.” Ioder said as he let his wings rest and he waited standing atop the tower with the wind gracefully twisting his blond hair.

[Philomel]

She could not see him. Not one bit. Nox, nada, nowt.

Warily she looked around, gritting her teeth still against the harsh pain that the wound gave her. Her eyes danced around, but it seemed that he had flown up somewhere and just gone - gone beyond the edge of air and space, between this arch and the next. Back in her mentality she tried to connect with Veridian again, seeking him out with minor desperation, but he was still closed off. All there was, was an empty void answering back, the feeling of existence and life, but no more.

At least he is alive.

Effortlessly she sighed, and reached down to her belt of fabrics and tugged off another piece of fabric. Still looking around for where the angel had gone after she slighted him with a cloud of angry dust, Philomel tied another bandage around her arm, hoping that would stem the bleeding for now and keep her sane.

The dust had gone up, swift and powerful; her last line of defence. Such a simple magic, yet so powerful in its own way, it had blinded him and given her the oppurtunity to scramble back. Of course, going back had meant looking away, and after she had found her previously abandoned throwing knife and takne it back up, the faun-whore had searched for the boy again. However, he had gone. All into the light or up above the non-existent clouds somewhere. She kept her eyes peeled as she finished off the second knot, but there was still no sign. And she dared not move, for that might provide a moment of air-assault.

Her hands free again she took up the saved throwing dagger and spun it through her fingers. He would be weaker now, maybe irritated. There would be a reason he would hide. Fearing her? She hoped it was so. Too injured? Well, that also gave Philomel an advantage. Taking a breather? That was not so good, but it still provided the Nightingale with a few minutes to plan her dramatic end in this place, whether jumping off the bridge in a beautiful sucide, or stabbing the creature in the back. She was not sure. For now all she could do was keep alert and wait for him to come to her.

And usually it was easy. She opened her mouth and spoke.

"Come out!" she declared, "Or give up, either way you are a coward!"

[Ioder]

Ioder waited for what seemed like an eternity, the possibilities for the faun to finish him was endless. Yet every second he waited anxiously for his death it did not come for him; in retrospect he had only been standing with his guard down for about two minutes. Ioder waited long enough for his eyes to water up and his vision to return to him even if only partially.

Where is she? Ioder pondered as he could start to make out the features of the bridge once again. The grit of the cobblestone and the arch of the towers but with everything becoming clear he could not find Philomel. Had she snuck up behind him? The thought made Ioder twist with quickness but only to be disappointed with the lack of Faun.

Then he heard her cry out to him from the bridge below, seeming to be beyond the next tower or possible the one after that but clearly they both could not see each other. Ioder then decided that it was indeed time to end this contest and with one deliberate step left the tower. Off the edge of the tower he descended letting his wings slowly guide him as he glided.

“Philomel!” Ioder yelled as his feet gracefully meet with the ground. He once again felt the fire of combat burst deep within him and he relished the feeling of one final clash.

[Philomel]

After a thousand turns of the unmoving sun, an orb of white light in this unforgiving sky, Ioder dropped in front of her. His golden wings spanned out behind him and they draped like a cloak, conspiring to keep him the epitome of glory in this hole of a battle. In his hand he still held a blade of grey metal, and in hers still was a simple throwing knife.

Seeing him fall was a relief. Fall from the shadows she could not see, fall from the place where only he could really get to. Her throwing knives could go so far, yes, but her eyes had not looked to see him in the depths of the tower.

Slowly her head shook, her eyes burned with rage. Her hand dropped the throwing dagger and dragged out her main blade.

"Angel or not," she spat, "You are an enemy now!"

And she pushed energy into her hoof as he swung his sword. Bounding, fast and furious, she cut the space between them in twain and met him mid-stride. Slamming down with her mythril blade she pulled out The Lover, her darling keris dagger that was the one who bled veins dry, and went for a two-pronged attack. Ioder was fast, but she was also so. Her hooves were like that of a dancers, and with them she could gain to speeds of a racing ibex. She roared, then roared again as their weapons clashed and were evenly met.

[Ioder]

The faun was quick, but this Ioder already knew. She and he clashed blade to blade one last time, yet Ioder only saw blurs of movement for the Faun. There was truly little that he could do other than swing his best to block against unclear strikes. He took carful steps backward as Philomel swung again and again opting to step aside of the majority of her attacks.

“Good, you truly do wish to end this contest.” Ioder said at the blur that was the faun. How he wished to see her expression to his conceding, he would remember it always but alas he could not. Inside he imagined the satisfaction of this earth bound creature triumphing over a being of the sky, somehow he pictured her with a satisfied grin as she swung at him with both blades of hers.

Each time she swing he stepped back avoiding one blade and repelling the other with his damascus blade. This was a close fight; if he had paid better attention to her early on he would be the one with the advantage. Ioder dropped to the ground quickly and spun quickly with his leg out trying to take Philomel off her feet, but on the land she was the victor leaping over him with ease.

Ioder had lost her; even the purple haired blur was gone. This was it, this was the end. “End it faun, I have been bested.” Ioder said as he waited for a moment in silence, he completely dropping his guard ready for Philomel to end this.

[Philomel]

The wound on her shoulder was still something. It still ached to raise the dagger up past her shoulder, but at least it was present. The Lover and her white blade together cleaved the air, spinning in circles as she tried to gain back the revenge for her lost love. In her mind she tried once more, futilely, to link back and speak to him, yet he was still gone. He was still closed of, he was still distant, a shadow of the conversation she usually had.

Still falling down, down, down into emptiness.

She danced as well as she could. Trained in the most exotic of bars and by the best of choreographers she had learnt to be easy on her feet and keep up her endurance for some length of time. Though she still got tired she had already rested some time, waiting for Ioder to descend. And then, when he had, all he did was clash with her in war, and try to dethrone her from meeting with the ground, but she was gone, dancing. Dancing. Forever dancing.

He was weakening, and she could feel it. In his unhappy expression the faun-whore could spot the lines of discomfort and the disorderly attitude of someone disliking this whole scene. In a moment of closeness he dropped his sword entirely, leaving her an obvious opening, saying something about being "bested". Philomel hardly heard the word. She only saw the weakness.

And into it the Nightingale flew, sharp and precise, flicking out with the Lover. It caught him beneath the chin, and heartlessly she drew it along and up, slicing along the throat. She did not go deep - it was light enough to only nick down to just a few layers of skin; yet blood still rose and the half-angel beast still went pale with pain.

Stepping back Philomel nodded to him, raising the wavy blade to her eyes. Carefully she looked at it, frowning a little, before pocketing the whole thing.

Ioder seemed to have stopped. The blood was running faster now, smoother, more lucious. Easily she could have ended him mercifully, but she wanted to show the fact that she could have restraint. She could control her actions. She could bring life when death was due.

She could make a death last much longer than was fair.

"This ends," she said, turning around. "Ends now. Now tell them to open the door."

[Quentin Boone]

Ioder receives:

• 792 EXP
• 99 GP

Philomel receives:

• 924 EXP
• 99 GP

Congratulations!

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added.