Round 1 Newcomer: Philomel Vs Tourneymant

[Tourneymant]

OOC: I'm sorry about that, I was sure I had chosen Tourneymant. I'll triple check from now on.

Barnabas was in great pain, the woman had kicked him multiple times with her hooves right where she had cut him. This caused the wound to open wider. Barnabas fell back and dropped his pan on the ground useless. However, it would bring at least a small advantage, now she would be hard pressed to find him, as long as she didn't spot the wet spots in on the ground that would show where he had been. Barnabas decided to back away and think of what to do next.

[Philomel]

The pressure moved off some way, the pounding of the frying pan ceased. Philomel lay there for a while, in the same position - hands gripped around sword, hooves up, right shoulder forwards, chin lowered, completely in the defensive - until the battering stopped for long enough for her to consider it gone and her efforts successful. Quickly, lithely, she rolled twice over away from the direction the offensive had been coming from, then pushed herself to her hooves, now for the moment taking a chance to catch her breath.

It was not long. There was a thumping clang that caught her attention, not a few feet away the pan had been dropped to the ground. She raised her chin, eyes flashing around, staring straight at it, then around that area. She did not look at the way her arm rather limply held the sword at the moment, the bruising beneath the shoulder guard now distinctively getting worse in pain and beginning to chafe. Neither did she look at the way Mort her pimp was hanging over the edge of the balcony he leaned on, his greedy eyes watching her. She did not see the way the judge himself was eagerly leaning forwards in his chair, but trying to seem as if he wasn't at all excited, clasping his hands on his lap and trying to keep an impassive expression on his face.

She did not see the crowd as they waited in baited breath as this pause in the game commenced and she was forced to swap her sword to her other hand, her not exactly best hand, and try to summon the courage to prepare to use her senses, wits and horns instead of the blade. She narrowed her eyes and watched. She looked. And she saw.

She saw the wet points of what seemed to be his version of blood appear in the sand and a subtle smile came to her face. She breathed in, she skipped forwards and feinted a swing with her sword to just above the area. Then she used her greatest weapon of all and toughly, strongly and boldy swung her head around in an arc, knowing that at some point the ram's horns sprouting from her head would connect with the man's body and hopefully, hopefully they would crash into his body.

[Tourneymant]

It didn't take the woman long to find Barnabas. She swiped at his legs and he jumped up to avoid it, only to be hit by the rams horn which sent him flying right into the wall. Due to his weightlessness, the wall stopped him fully and he didn't even leave a mark. That didn't mean the wall didn't do any damage to him. In fact it had shattered his back. His body started to glow red throughout it and his invisibility dissipated and reviled his shape to the world. He knew he was practically done. However, Barnabas was not going to finish like this. He started to fight off oblivion as he used his one ability. He turned completely invisible. I need to hurt her at least a little. He thought as he slowly crawled his way to his opponent. However, before he could even make it to her his invisibility wore off and his glowing red body showed itself about a foot away. He then promptly passed out.

[Philomel]

The force that she placed into the head butt threw her sideways. Philomel stumbled for a few steps, the sword in her hand swinging down and helping to catch her body. She growled to herself, cursing silently as the movement made the bruising on her upper arm simply get worse. She hissed through gritted teeth, eyes darting around to try to catch a glimpse of the man again but there seemed to be no more sign. Slightly - Philomel concentrated on the ground.

The wet spots upon the sand, the specks of his version of blood, were pointing towards a point and then stopped, but they could not be certain. As she looked there was nothing, nothing of him to be seen, not even his body or a vague outline. For a while she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Her sword felt heavy in her hand, but she kept it there. Grumbling under her breath she pushed her shoulder guard off from her right shoulder, reaching up to unbuckle it, then threw it to the side. Keeping her eyes flickering around she crouched into a fighting stance, swapping her weapon to both hands, the bruise now clear and blackish upon her pale flesh.

Silence, tension. She had no idea where he was. He had truly gone invisible, vanished into thin thin air. Yet she kept her stance, her strength and her guard. Veridian was creeping towards her, from the edge of the gate, wary and quiet. His ears were folded back against his head, flat. He nickered, softly, just as he got to her.

And magnificently just as a figure lit up not a foot away from her, in a throbbing red light. Brilliant and striking it burned against the sand of the arena and the breath respectively caught in both of their chests. The faun and the fox. The fox and the faun. A pause, a sudden realisation as the body appeared still, passed out, unmoving.

The height, the rough build, the figure. It was him. It had to be him.

Philomel stared, her lips parted in shock, and she suddenly took in a quick sharp breath. Him, it was him. His body.

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, and then slowly reached up and slapped herself across the cheek. Wake up, she furiously told herself, Wake up Phi. Wake.

But no. Oh so no.

She was already awake.

And her opponent was unconcious.

Philomel let out a cry of joy, utter joy and skipped over to the body. Straddling over him she knelt, hard, on his shoulders and positioned her torso just at his chest. Pinning him down she drew the flat of her blade across his throat and held it there, daring and waiting for the soon to be moment when he would wake up.

Or at least she hoped he would wake up soon. And be faced with her sexy sexy body.

[Tourneymant]

It took a little while for Barnabas to awake to consciousness. But when he did, he was confronted with a great pain on his spine that was only intensified by someone on his shoulder blades. He groaned to signal that he was awake then felt the blade that was at his throat under him. He gulped then said, "Um, mind getting off my back? It's been shattered."

[Philomel]

Philomel had to honestly stop herself from bursting into hysterics. She looked pointedly at her hand held tight around the handle of her sword, and smiled, widely as she looked back down at the red man beneath her.

"Mind?" she said, for the first time her voice spilling out. She let her breasts man over his eyesight, only a few inches from his face. "Would I mind? You know yes, yes I think I do mind."

She chuckled, darkly as her eyebrow raised. Behind her Veridian found not only the time but also the courage to skitter over to her, then leap up to land on her shoulders. He wrapped his long fluff-ball of a tail around her neck and dug his claws into the plait of her hair. He nickered a few notes and likewise stared at the man his companion was leaning over.

His nose twitched, he sniffed and found the man to be rather shaken indeed.

Philomel paused, but did not remove the sword. She leant back a little, raised her chin.

"Darling, I will gladly get up under one condition," subtly she winked at the Invisible Man, the one they called Barnabas. "That you yield entirely and admit I am the winner. Unless..." she paused, considering, "Unless you want your throat cut too."

[hoytti]

Barnabas laughed, well at least chuckled, he couldn't really laugh with a sword to his throat. "Well, I can't move so that sort of naturally makes you the winner of this fight doesn't it?" he then stopped and thought for a second. "But if you want a verbal yield then I guess I can say I Yield!"

The Procter of the match raised his hand and said, "Barnabas Casmer Tourneymant has yielded. The winner of the match is Philomel "Phi" Serkena." as soon as he said this the crowd went wild.

[Philomel]

Philomel Serkena can der Aart slowly gained to her hooves, her smile brighter and filled with more joy than she ever knew she had in her, ever since the night of her first sexual enterprise. Now, here she was, not only proved as a warrior in bed and as an assassin, but in the arena as well, albeit it be the first round, but nevertheless it was something beautiful.

It was something honourable.

It was something truly and honestly fantastic, wonderous.

She stepped away from the shattered remains of how she had left the man, raising her arms into the air. The crowd - they seemed to adore her, they showered her with blossoms and cheers and adoration, they blessed her under the heavens and guidance of Drys, the tree Goddess, under great Tunmus, the first Faun to walk the lands of the mountains, they worshipped her. Or perhaps it was all an illusion.

In any case Philomel worshipped herself.

For tonight, she was truly, a victor.

[Philomel]

I submitted the thingmy for judgement. That okie dokie?

OKay sorry, this was done in a rush of excitement because I found out a friend of mine is pregnant. All super hyped.

jj

[hoytti]

OOC: That's fine. and congratulations to your friend.

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