League A (Interdivision): BlueGhostofSeaside v. Lye

[Max Dirks]

Battle at your leisure folks. This thread must be completed by January 9th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.

[Lye]

“A girl you say?” He asked, prying his katar loose from the skull of a recently felled forest elf.

“Yes, sir. A half-elf with curly brown hair and blue eyes,” replied the hooded member of The Order.

“Anything else?” The assassin cleaned his blade against the moss of a nearby trunk.

“Seems her mother died giving birth and father passed shortly after. She’s had a couple near death experiences in the years that pass—“

“I don’t need a life story, just the vitals.” Lye interrupted, his tone much more aggressive.

“Sir, she is quicker than usual and commands some control over the elements. Aside from that, she’s harmless.”

“Good.” Lye stood up and exhaled. The rush of a fresh kill burned in his veins – he wanted more. “And the preparations?”

“We tried one of the older tricks in the book. One of the other members guised as a father of a missing child. He confronted her to beg her help in seeking a missing child. She has a knack for helping the oppressed and should be here any minute.” Replied the mysterious informant.

“Excellent, then leave me. I have more work to do.”

With a slight bow, Lye’s guest faded into the shadows of the thick forest canopy. Very few beams of rouge light streaked through the air, illuminating the occasional insect or floating pollen. Near horizontal, these strands signaled the setting of the evening sun. A dark forest was the perfect setting for an ambush. The assassin tilted his neck side to side with a series of wet pops and cracks. He rolled his shoulders to loose the tension from his previous target’s last few struggles. The lone silence he was left in was only broken by the light hiss of shaking leaves and distant crickets.

“It had to be a woman,” he thought to himself after sheathing his blades. “Spilling their blood doesn’t settle well with me.”

The killer dusted off his leggings with bloodied gloves only to manage a muddy cake of crimson and dirt. He let out a sigh, turned around, and sat upon the still warm corpse. He brought his knees toward his chest so that he could lazily hang his outstretched arms over them. Patiently, he waited, listened, and watched for any signs of incoming life. If the girl was indeed on her way, he wouldn’t have to sit for long. He would be quite irritated if she arrived after his bloodthirsty high wore off. The assassin displayed a smirk to himself beneath the crimson scarf hugging his neck and chin.

“Hopefully she didn’t succumb to these thick Concordia deepwoods. It’d be a shame. A real shame.”

The assassin gave a sinister chuckle.

[Ashla]

Ashla sighed and she sliced her way through a large wall of large vines with her long-knife. Her hood was up over her head, her black hair hanging out and covering her elvish ears. It was cold and making way through this long, thick forest was hard going. Even if it was day out, the hordes of large, old trees swayed their long branches of dark green leaves over her like a canopy, blocking the sky from view. It was in the dark of the night that Ashla search through this heavy foliage in favor of a man who had come up to her in the nearest town begging for help in searching for his little daughter. "She's blond, has a cute, red dress, blue eyes, and she's only four years old! Please help me!" Ashla nodded to herself and refused to give up. She jumped over a fallen tree and easily landed on her feet. Her elvish traits never failed her and she was moving along surprisingly well. However, her clumsy, human side was always with her as well as she only a moment later tripped over a dead uproot. Ashla spat dark, rich dirt out of her mouth and wiped her face and outfit off as she stood up again. She chuckled to herself as she pulled her cloak closer to herself again and simply carried on.

There weren't as many trees and branches now, but a clear path cut through the thick forest. Ashla followed her instincts and wet forward to the path, putting her long knife away. She traveled down the path as rain began to fall. The path was already starting to turn wet. Dirt turned to mud; the many kinds of trees off the pathway began to droop, the leaves being splattered by the light rain fall. Something in Ashla's head told her that this was no ordinary rainfall and that a storm was coming on. She shivered and pulled her cloak close against her body. The warm wool inside kept her a little warm, and within her hood she was dry. However, she did receive trickles of rainwater on her face and mud was clinging against her boots. Ashla looked up from her cold, lonely self to see another person up ahead on the path. Ashla sighed and went to ask him if he had seen a young, blond girl.

[Lye]

The rays of light pinched off into darkness and the cold of night began to claim the air. In further protest of time, a feeling of cold pricks teased at his exposed skin. His cold green eyes tilted to the sky to discover the source of his annoyance was indeed a brewing squall. His irritated brows leveled again, trying to look both was on the path he rested upon. Even the warm body beneath his buttocks had grown cold as the earth. The assassin tapped his boot rhythmically, causing a bounce to transfer to his hung arms.

"Apparently the word 'shortly' was a loose term," he scoffed with irritation as the rainfall progressed.

Silvery hair atop his head began to clump together under the weight of falling rain. It stuck to his face and gave his scarf more weight. This manner of waiting grated his nerves. What was once the high of a fresh kill had now become an untamed anger of impatience. If this half-blood were not to show soon, he would be slitting the throat of the man who left him hours ago.

Splosh.
Splursh.
Splosh.
Spursh.

Someone approached. Tension created a weight in his chest when the sound of footsteps overcame the hiss of rainfall. An emerald gaze confirmed his suspicions and within moments she was within engaging distance. A hooded figure, already dashed in the faint stain of mud, inquired about a missing girl. She was the one.

"A missing girl?" he playfully inquired with haunting undertone."I'm afraid I haven't."

He teetered forward on his knees and rose from the balls of his bladed boots. If she hadn't notice the dead forest elf he was sitting on, she surely would now.

"But it seems that a different one has found her way to me..."

A hoarse chuckle escaped his dimly lit features. Anxiety quickly washed away as the skin of his arms began to writhe like festering maggots. Two long blades of white ivory shot out from his forearms to grotesque sound of popping joints and twisted bone. He paused for a moment with mutated arms head out to his sides, head hung low while water fell from strands of platinum hair. He was giving her a moment to ready a fight.

"I wonder if anyone will be looking for you when you're gone."

The assassin grimaced.

His body shot forward at unnatural speeds. One blade of bone screamed directly for the girl's throat while the other followed from below to cleave her in twine. If she could manage to see the look on his face, she would find the wide-eyed smile of an insane killer begging to hear her final screams.

[Ashla]

Ashla was indeed surprised with sicking horror when she noted that the man ahead was sitting on a dead elf! Her horror, her benumbing, her everything was instantly turned off and replaced by her instinct to run when he shot towards her. She let her body to the thinking for her as she let herself fall over. She spread her feet so her landing wouldn't do any harm as she prevented herself from plummeting to the ground with her left arm. With both hands she pushed herself ahead and was able to avoid the attacker's deathly blows by simply sliding between his legs as they switched places.

Ashla was covered in mud and water now, but she didn't mind at all for once. The mud had provided her the ability to pull off such an unprepared stunt in the first place! Whoever the this guy was was murderer who intended to kill her for bloodthirsty purposes. Ashla just knew this, as she had seen these kind before. She had not been able to see his face, but the scene she had just witnessed and even his body and attack stances had told her everything. She would not be able to run from him forever.

He was at a pretty fast speed by the time he had reached her, so he was still running. While he slowed himself down, Ashla got up at the speed of an otter and with her right hand drew her long sword. With her other hand, she undid the clasp to her cloak and let it fly off her. She would need all her physical gifts to surpass and throw this guy off her trail long enough to scram, her cloak would just he a burden. She was covered all over with thick mud! Her hair, back, waist, legs, her entire body was filthy. However, Ashla didn't care one bit, only one thing was on her racing mind:

This guy is trying to kill me!

[Lye]

The girl was not only fast, but extraordinarily lucky. She not only dodged two blows without the assassin tracking her, but she was able to slide through running legs, avoid the jagged axe-blades fixed to his heels, and do so without a single scratch. She was either exceedingly lucky or deceivingly skilled.

The rain pelted against the alabaster skin while his sprint slowed to an irritated walk. The assassin let out an unusual chuckle, before sheathing his blades back from where they came.

"You're a lot faster than you look, Icebreaker" said an increasingly hostile voice, "It just means more fun for me - I like a good chase."

Menacing emerald pupils turned to lock upon the filthy half-elf. Dripping clumps of platinum did very little to hide the twisted grimace he still maintained. Now, his body faced the girl square. Her shaky, unskilled posture did little to intimidate.

"Seems like there are some willing to pay a pretty penny to snuff out your lineage."

His gloved fingers slid along the five, six-inch long steel needles to his side. Their previous gloss became enveloped by shadows, and started to lift from their position by their own volition. These pitch black weapons lifted into the air surrounding the killer, nearly invisible against the stormy night sky. Only the occasional flash of lighting was just enough to silhouette their deadly existence.

"Before you die, I'd like to see those legendary eyes. It's said they only show in times of desperation. Care to show me?"

Lye slid into an offensive posture, thrusting one arm forward to signal three of his floating needles forward. Two of which sped for her thighs, leaving the third to seek refuge in her chest. These shadow possessed weapons carried with them a minor ability to track. Surely her luck would not be so keen as to avoid all three. To keep his plaything under pressure, the assassin advanced just behind his projectiles, the remaining two needles floating majestically in tow. The initial illusion of being unarmed would quickly change once he was upon her, for his hands hovered ever so close to the damascus chain sickle jingling at his side.

[Ashla]

Ashla snarled as he spoke to her. His eyes were terrifying, and his tone was mocking. Ashla knew that he thought of her as being something weak, which made her blood boil. "Before you die, I'd like to see those legendary eyes. It's said they only show in times of desperation. Care to show me?" And he threw a thrust at her. Ashla stepped back swiftly as soon as he did. She didn't step back far enough though to feel a sharp pain in her chest. Ashla felt some blood begin to trickle from an area in her chest. She briefly hissed at the hurting realization that he was armed. She growled, "Well, you already have me ticked, so one more bad move and you will see my eyes." Ashla didn't know of why her eyes fascinated so many, however, they had made her popular in some distant, Fallien, villages here and there. Ashla knew very well that they were the warning signs that she was in a bad mood though; and that bad mood was certainly coming on to her.

Ashla drew her long sword and long knife. She kept her sword across her chest, her shorter blade swayed at the right side of her. Lightning would flash violently here and there, revealing The image of a muddy girl standing in the rain. She shacked in the cold, but her eyes showed no traces of fear. Her eyes wee coated with the sudden urge to prove herself to this stranger. He wanted her to fall to her knees, he wanted to mock- well was -mocking her. Ashla wanted to beat the living crap out of him for that. She had done nothing wrong to him, why should he attack her now?

She took an unsteady breath and stepped closer to him again. One foot in front of the other, her pose staying right where it was. Ashla lifted her short blade up to where his hand was, she would have to be careful in judging where he would attack her next. But would it be him delivering the next blow? "My turn."

Out of another rare flash of luck, she was able to wackthe man's invisible weapons aside and was able to do her thing. She dropped her own blade and quickly reached to grab his wrist. She clutched it tightly and gave his arm some time to 'cool off'. Her eyes stayed focused on his eyes, where his eyes would lead would determine where he would strike next. Like Ashla did, surely he had more tricks of his sleeves. As several droplets of red blood dropped to the ground between them, Ashla tightened her grip on her sword.

[Lye]

It was satisfying to hear the thud of steel sink into flesh. At least one of his skillful attacks landed a hit. Still, the girl's displayed level of finesse was rather impressive to the bloodthirsty aggressor. During his advance, she had the time avoid the remaining two needles and shockingly enough, take hold of his wrist mid-advance. The fact this girl was able to connect her blows without leaving him an opportunity to evade seemed godlike. What was supposed to be fun, quickly became an infuriating engagement.

Upon her dainty fingers wrapping around his wrist, he felt the bite of winter's grasp upon his flesh. Even with his years of living in the Skavian Wilds and braving its tandem blizzards, this frost held more kick than a several hours exposed to the elements. Within fractions of a second, most likely due to the benefit of already being drenched from the storm, his entire left arm became ridden with frost and incapable of moving due to the decrease in body temperature. Luckily, his momentum from his advance gave him what he needed to escape. His eyes locked with hers and his expression no longer harbored amusement. What was once insanity had quickly become cold, calculated aggression.

His free right hand writhed with greater agony than the icy nip of her grasp. Flesh danced as if possessed by maggots before ejecting a three foot blade of bone from his forearm and was hurdled toward her face with the weight of his speeding body behind it. Leaving nothing to chance and trying to take full advantage of her naive close combat attempt, he followed up with a coiled heel toward her stomach. During mid kick, the trifecta was completed by launching the last two floating needles behind him towards her young, flat chest.

He could not feel if her grip had been loosened form his wrist, but it would not matter. The assassin's entire body became rigid, tense with preparation to combat any further atrocities this girl could muster. His gaze remained locked on hers, for if it was an attempt to read his movement, she would not best his ability to operate purely on his peripherals.

[Ashla]

She was quick, but she had been too careless despite her attempts to remain conscious.

The kick had propelled her back a whiles. She spat deep, red blood out of her mouth as she fell flat on her bottom into a mud puddle. The needles caught several strands of her hair and even pulled some out. She chocked up some more blood and kept spatting. Now, she was a rather unpleasant sight. Covered in much water and mud, blood also thrown into the huge mix; she seemed more brown than any other color! Now off her feet, Ashla realized how cold she was despite her constant use of energy. She also came to the conclusion that she would not be able to win this fight. Her attack had been too recklessly pulled off and she was paying the price. She could feel nothing but pain, cold, and the worst of all... defeat.

Well crap.

She still had to get out alive though! The rain was pouring so hard now, she could barely see more than ten feet in front of her. Ashla scoffed; her hair was deeply wet and mopey and all over her face. This had been an unpleasant. Unknown to herself, her eyes were in their deepest rage, the unique color of ice taking over instantly. She was at her limits now, she had to get out! She made a quick back flip away from him, the unusual pressure on her left arm proved that she may have strained it in her earlier dodge. She winced and staggered up, her eyes barely were able to trace the monster's next move...

[Lye]

The prong of ivory did not find it's home in soft female flesh, but the resounding pressure of an impact reverberated through his leg. Their locked gaze was lost as her body gave way to his strength and loosed her several feet forward. His expression remained flat and cold as she comically collapsed to her rear into the sludge of rain and mud. Something inside tickled his urge to smile the moment she spat blood. Her image of filth, blood, and icy blue eyes was something of beauty. He even harbored some admiration for her continued maneuvers while injured.

He kept his watch upon her as she faded away in the increasing downpour. The weight of the rain alone was noteworthy. Visibility had now been reduced to mere outlines. If the girl were to make her escape, now would have to be the time.

"The weather favors you, Icebreaker!" He shouted over the roar of water crashing into earth. "I hope you'll do me the honor of sticking around 'til the end like the elf before you."

His right arm barked similar noises of wet pops, slurps, and crunches as the blade of bone retracted within the flesh, leaving a small trickle of blood to be quickly washed away. Instead, he armed himself with the damascus chain sickle jingling at his hip. Left arm still numb and nonoperational lay limp as he generated a whirlwind momentum behind the six inch curved blade at the end of six feet of chain. Lye advanced toward where she previously existed, sending out a blur of weaponry in multiple swings. With the limited visibility playing against him, he hoped it would also cripple his opponent's abilities as well and allow the blade to seat itself into her supple body. Should he be so lucky, the anchoring of such a blow would allow him the opportunity to rend her of balance, pull her close, and allow the dagger end of his weapon to claim her final breath.

His confidence in bringing about her end was restored. In this visibility, any attempt to advance into his swirling blade would doom her. She would either run or die.