[Iron League] The Wrath of the Elements

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Closed to my alt and Phi. 2v1.

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Many people were afraid of the elements. The elements could do serious damage. The elements could kill. However, the elements could be killed as well. Bring out the sun and watch the ice thaw. Bring forth the rainfall and watch fire go dim. Erosion did away with the clarity of earth and stone. Erosion completely restructured the earth to its own destructive will.

Just like with the elements, people could be broken down too.

Today, however, that breaking point not come. Today, iron would be sharpened on iron. There was a group called the iron league. This was a large group of fighters, unbound by loyalism to certain organizations or countries, with the sole purpose of finding out who was top dog. The young woman charging boldly into the darkness of a Citadel ring knew who that probably was. Herself, of course. Too long had she been the underdog, the loser of every ring. Now, Ashla Rose Icebreaker intended to fight again. Win again. This time, she was not alone.

The Eiskaltian warrior closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. No doubt was anxiety filling her body. Clenching the sword hilt at her hip, she felt a drop in temperature. The puffs of carbon dioxide emitted from her mouth and nose was now visible.

She opened her eyes. Her two mismatched eyes, one blue and the other burgundy, surveyed the arena around her. It was a wilderness landscape. The rough ground beneath her feet was a light brown rock. Raising her foot and heavily slamming it down, the sound of her armored boot slamming the bumpy, rough stone sounded across a mountainous world. It was chilly, obviously around the fall season despite the lack of any fauna. With no snow falling, it was the young woman's best bet. Reaching back and pulling a white hood over her black hair, the young woman straightened out her long, blue tunic. The sound of chainmail jingling under it let anyone in the desolate world of stone and boulders know she was more heavily armored than her steel shoulder and leg plates suggested. As she checked her leather gauntlets, covered in Delyn plates with retractable black claws, she smirked, "Nice weather for battle, eh, Felicity?"

Trailing a small ways behind her good friend, Felicity Rhyolite smirked. Pulling her elkan round shield off her back, the redheaded half-neanderthal spoke in her odd lisp, "Is it a little cool here? This has nothing on Eiskalt! It's so cute."

Pulling the collar her green magim leather jacket, the teen stepped next to her brunette friend with a cheery disposition. The older fighter sighed, "It's a battle, not a sightseeing experience." Despite the seriousness in her eyes, Felicity did notice a small, fond smile. "Didn't we get enough sightseeing experience from that time in the ruins of Raiaera?"

Felicity chuckled, "You mean when we made it to the top of that fortress and ran into the undead?" She rolled her eyes, "That was fun!" She was being sarcastic now.

They both chuckled as Felicity drew her delyn arming sword, tip lowered to the rocky ground. There really was nothing here but rugged, flat rock with one or two lone boulders. It was a bright, sunny day with zero clouds in sight. As the weak autumn sun caused the rock to go hot, the cold breeze still prevailed. The teen's smile faded as she watched her stoic, vigilant friend. "We're fighting a member of the league, right?"

"Yes," Ashla nodded as she observed her bland surroundings, "We face a single opponent." Ashla smiled at the redhead, reaching out and putting her hand on the girl's shoulder, "I brought you along because we're a good team."

Felicity smirked, "Two on one? Hardly a fair fight."

"The world is not fair, Felicity." Ashla's smile faded; as did Felicity's, "We both know this well..."

Oh, Ashla. Always the spoiler sport...

As Ashla let go and lowered her hand, Felicity fell into a serious silence. As they looked straight ahead, they waited on the massive rock terrain for whoever their opponent was…

Feel the earth. Let it flow through you. Let it run through your veins, and feel its life. That red-hot magma you can feel thousands of metres below, and recognise its effects - that is the blood of the planet and it can be felt by you. So let it. Feel the pulse of its beating heart and know that the world is waiting for you.

Over and over in her head she repeated the mantra, as her awareness melted into that of the world below. One hand pressed to the cold rock beneath her, Philomel was concentrating hard, eyes closed tightly shut. Through layers of stone, dirt and dying plants she could sense the energies flowing there, the underground streams of water and the tiny creatures crawling around. She could hear the trickle of water running off rocks, feel the death of a crumbling leaf starved of sustinance, and taste the lichen on the tongue of a bug slowly chewing his way to survival. With a keen desire and an open willingness, Philomel could understand the earth from where she stood right now upon this literal boulder of a starting platform, and know that just under fifty metres away were two individuals simply waiting for her to enter. And for her to fight.

Well?

The question came directly into her head, a soft male voice but with the grunt of animalism within it. Peeking open one eye the faun Philomel saw two intense golden irises watching her from the body of a fox, as he stood on the vast tundra landscape. Ripples of movement ran up and down his body - simple tricks of the white sunlight and wind one might say at a glance, but Philomel knew better. She knew they belonged to the sparks of want from the spirit of fire that lived deep in his chest. A want that kept him warm in this nearing frigid world and longed to dance and conquer.

Two of them, Philomel replied, sucking in a slow and uneasy breath. Looking east she gestured with a nod of her head where their opponents were already. One likely a human, or close enough with a fight build and another who is ... more. Stronger, heavier built, more impact on the ground around her. Probably both female, but I cannot be certain about the second.

She, herself, was beating against the cold with the thick fur that grew around her legs, and a thick shawl that she had hurriedly pulled on when they had been faced with this madness, over the top of her brand new dragonscale and mythril chainmail breastplate. Her companion, the fox-form earth-spirit Veridian, he of the golden eyes and fire, also had fur but he did not even shiver as she did. Instead he ran at a toasty temperature, as if by a warm fire in the dead of winter and seemed perfectly satisfied with their situation.

It is not even snowing, he scoffed.

The season is on the turn, Philomel argued, Yes, beloved, it is not the Berevar wilds but it certainly is not fair in terms of warmth. We will need to be careful here, where we place our footing. There may be icier surfaces.

There might be, or maybe not, Veridian said, swinging his brush tail and looking over, just up the rise where the two beings were hidden, just out of view. There are rocks. Your hooves are good with rocks.

I am thinking full assault with Delath, Philomel said, rising up into a full, straight backed stance again. Slowly she drew out her long, white, slightly curved sword known as Nameless, called so purely for the fact she had never come up with anything. Maybe.

Veridian shook his head, and opened his jaw, revealing rows of teeth and a deep red heat in the back of his throat. Me first, he declared, stretching for a moment, and then starting out at a trot. Me first.

Then the small, two foot long fox began to ascend the rise, his brush tail flashing back and forth as he did. Tongue slightly out he aimed right for the place where their two fighters would be, leaving Philomel to gape, uncertain in his wake.

Then hurriedly she sighed and started after him in a low run, picking up the pace with her hooves - which rightly did manage to catch fine on the rocks beneath them - and swinging up her sword at the same time into a guarded position.

Well, this is starting unceremoniously, she muttered.

The sound of hooves thundering against stone caused Ashla to turn her head to the distance. Well, weird things could happen in Althanas and nothing could phase her. She definitely knew that Felicity could be weirded out by a fox and a faun. Yes, a fox was merrily running towards them with a faun.

The faun appeared to have strong ram horns. Her magenta hair was thick, freely falling behind her back. Her brown goat legs were nothing unusual for this rare species. She wore a simple but elegant white blouse. Ashla could see the chainmail under her shirt as well. For her long yet numbered days as an adventurer or avenger, Ashla had only seen a select few faunas. It captivated her for a moment, as the face itself seemed ever so briefly familiar. No distinct memories were undug at the moment, however. Aside that, she knew it was time to fight.

Ashla knew that Felicity had a soft spot for animals, so she decided to send her towards the faunas instead. As frost started to emit from her white fingertips, Ashla spoke to her former pupil, "You take care of the faun, I'll get the fox. We'll separate them."

Without waiting for her younger sister's reply, Ashla drew her damascus hand in a half sword with lightning speed. In a flash, Ashla races towards the little fox, her light footsteps pattering against the rocks with grace and dexterity. Internally apologizing to Felicity, the yet unnamed faun, and herself for hurting an innocent creature, Ashla raised her sword in the Roof Guard and delivered a swift diagonal left-to-left upward cut. This military cut was usually meant to take out areas beneath the human's thighs; but it was now used against the flame coated creature's fur.

Meanwhile, Felicity eyed the faun alongside the fox. Felicity had never met a faun before! While knowledge of the active battle never left her mind, curiosities and questions did arise about the nature of the species.

It was not only one opponent, but two. When Ashla told her to go after the faun, Felicity immediately knew it was because Felicity liked animals and would not hurt them. This was the Citadel though, correct? Felicity would never hurt anybody outside these walls. While she was annoyed that her former mentor still did not trust her well enough, she had to remind herself that there were things she did not trust with Ashla anymore either. Their relationship was not what it used to be, and that was irreversible. The slightly frosty air and racing opponents kept Felicity's mind on the here and now. Her clothes ruffled as she picked up her running speed, running boldly towards the female faunas.

The slower neanderthal kept her shield directly in front of her. Raising her sword into a High Stance, the teen ran purposefully towards the purple haired faun. Her tough neanderthal frame showed strength and durability. Not even flinching, she lunged her sword back into the wrath stance as she ran into the half-goat woman head on.

As the autumn air whirled in bursts of winds across the bland rock surface, the teams of two each made their first moves.

A sable-haired and a fiery redhead. A human and something other. Both females. Both fairly young, looking at older teenagers, young twenties.

Facing off against a thirty-four year old faun and her twenty year old fox-form earth-spirit companion. What could possibly go wrong?

Splitting the party, that was what.

For a firm fighting arena, this was not ideal. With the ground as unstable as it potentially could be, born from the ice in the air and crevices of the rock, there was danger everywhere. Yet, their saving grace was the hooves of Philomel and the claws of Veridian. They allowed them soft landings and a firm grip with which to pivot and charge. Despite their difference in sizes the fox and the faun were similar in skill and profienciency when it came to fighting, his bite as terrible as her sword slash. Together they twisted around to face their chosen foes, the naked white blade as shining as the glint on his teeth. As white as the sky itself - pure and pitiless.

Philomel let out a slow, uneasy sigh as their two combatants ran at them. Seemingly, they chose to split themselves and face up to Philomel and Veridian in a specific way, for the redhead lunged for her right as the black-haired (older-looking) one swung at Veridian. Immediately Philomel was locked in clashing combat, Nameless sweeping up and blocking an attack straight for her body. She barely had time to call out as she spied, out of the corner of her eye, the black-head fashioned an upper cut down at the tiny form of Veridian. Her mind whirled as an agitated memory began to come to the surface, one of a distant thought and mind. Somehow Philomel had met this black-head before, but precisely when and where she could not say.

Not enough time for that though. Their opponents were moving, forcing Philomel and Veridian back to back, which was not ideal. The faun was keeping up with each sword slash measured out by the redhead, but Veridian, for his small size, was barely keeping up. All he could do against a human-sized opponent was dance and weave and hope that somehow he would be able to find an opening and aim a bite.

Ahhh ... feckle, Philomel cursed in her mind to him. You, fire, me ... I am going to-

She did not finish. Instead she suddenly slammed a hoof on the ground below her, the rock there beginning to shake as she did. As soon as she had done so she allowed the energy summoned by such a pound to send her flying into the air, in a curve right over the head of the not-quite human who had deemed her her enemy. The place where Philomel had slammed onto the ground now was causing a major earthquake to begin - at first a simple shaking of the rocks but then a rapidly extending imbalance as the small stones and shards of ice shook. Veridian, although caught off guard by the suddeness of Philomel's command, knew exactly what it was, and thus he scarpered just as her hoof touched the ground. Chattering high, he sprinted away from the sword slash comdemning into his side, and away from the earthquake.

While he ran his fur began to ripple, and in those ripples embers began to glow. The hairs stood on end, making him look large before his body actually began to get larger. Yes, he ran from his opponent, yes, he was condemning himself to the possibility of being called 'coward'. Yet - yet he was giving them a chance. As Philomel landed behind the red-haired Felicity and pulled up her sword to strike, Veridian began to double back. His body now quintupled in size he was fully on fire and now he raced as the faun lunged, ready to see if their opponents had survived the shock of her hoof's quake.

The earth bellowed. The ground moaned in some sort of agony as everything shook. The bare rocks beneath everyone's feet trembled. The faun had summoned an earthquake.

Ashla's first instinct was to keep herself steady. She instantly stopped fighting the little fox. She stomped the ground, willing strong blue ice into existence. As it surrounded her feet however, the powerful tremors caused it to break all over again. In those series of seconds she realized she was trying in vain, a booming crack was heard. The ground started to undo itself, sturdy stone shattered into mere pebbles as the very land at her feet split in two. Panic rose as she felt the earth at her feet fall away. Her speed ramped up as she lashed out for the closest ledge.

She managed to cling onto the edge of what land was left. However, in the aftermath of her panic, Ashla realized... she had dropped her sword. She cast her gaze downwards in time to see her precious weapon fall into the darkness of the earth.

"Great..." Ashla mumbled as she looked up again. As she looked up, she saw the little - wait - huge flaming fox leap over the gap in a single bound. Ashla's eyes widened. She could hear noises from the dying quake as well as the fight Felicity was fighting alone.

The protective instincts of an elder sister took over. Nimble and flexible, she lifted her other hand to the earth above. Firmly grasping the higher ground, she lifted her foot to the land above. Now, although she was a natural acrobatic, her raw strength proved to be significantly weaker. It took a moment for her to pull herself back up again...

... What she saw caused a bought of rage to take over...

The earth shook with the violence of an entire army. As the landscape churned and screamed, Felicity completely lost balance. Accidentally dropping her shield, she fell onto the ground with a moan. Her vision was blurred and shaky. The air was flooded with clear dust and dirt as the solid earth vibrated. She barely held onto her sword.

After what could of been anywhere between five seconds and a minute, the earth reached a chill calm again. Felicity's eyes gazed downwards as the sound of apocalyptic crumbling stone roared around. However, hooves pounding behind her caused her to gasp.

Dizzy but alert, the downed teen turned around to see the faun raising her sword. As her vision pixelated, she gripped her sword and bolted up. As she partly stepped back, her head started to pound. She was unable to move for that moment. The horrific sound of a cold blade slicing through flesh echoed across the flat mountains.

She heard Ashla scream her name from an unknown direction.

Pain only lasted for a moment, however. Suddenly, the agony of the cut across her stomach transformed into bolstered strength. For the headache she had briefly experienced, her powers were activated by the bleed. She was unaware of whatever surrounded them. This was partially due to her blurred vision; yet also partially due to her newfound reckless anger. For a short period of time, she was completely immune to pain, her raw strength boosted.

It was probably unsettling, the way she smirked.

She clenched her free fist before pulling her hand over the blade. She safely gripped her delyn weapon by the blade, holding the weapon as an improvised sort of mace. Using the half-sword grip on her weapon, she raised the sword in a murderstroke. This technique was aimed to hit an opponent with either the pommel or crossgaurd; a bludgeoning method. Her strength was nearly doubled, she was taking full advantage of it. She started a series of heavy hitting blunt attacks, all aimed at the faun.

For all her improved strength, the wound still existed. As she still bled, the beserk part of her Beserk Rage started to show. Before, she was confident. Now she fought with reckless abandon. Forgetting her form, she struck with less skill behind the art of combat. She was not insane yet. However, the increase in boldness within her violent eyes were apparent. A hint of years of anguish masked was hidden under her rough emerald gems.

Strong, this one, Philomel commented as she fought back a series of progressively more savage blows. Mighty and-

I come, hissed Veridian, charging straight for her.

His body now at its greatest glory, he was burning the ground beneath his paws. Steam rose, the freezing cold barely able to comprehend the great heat that steamed from him. Eyes like embers he was a charging bull, massive and uncomphrending. He watched as Philomel looked in utter confusion as her red head opponent swing her sword around to grasp it by the handle.

"What are you doing?" Philomel asked, before the hilt and pommel came for her skull.

Desperately she matched strength with speed, sweeping her sword into wilder and wilder gestures. Pride beat like a marching bands' drum in his chest as he made the tundra landscape warm again, blessing it like a new spring. Then he twisted his attention back onto his original foe - the black-haired one.

And he saw her downed, presumably altered in balance by the thunder of Philomel's earthquake. Various shallow cracks in the earth spoke of its success, ripping this cold world in to like his heated body did. She was downed, and not even looking at him, and thus - he skidded to a halt. He huffed, tilting his head and honestly not wanting to be that sneaky bastard this time - not any time - that took advantage of the enemy's weakness.

There, he paused, then let out a loud bark.

Philomel twisted her head with shock, and received a quick, eager bash to her forearm. Eyes wide, Veridian regretted his sense of honour briefly, before Philomel twisted back quickly into her fight, rolling back her injuries and bashed shoulder. The fox-form earth-spirit - or, rather, part fire-spirit now, for he had allowed that tenth of his soul to take over - turned his head back to the black-haired girl and lowered himself into a crouch. Summoning up enough firey breath into his lungs he waited for her to notice him, and stand.

And when she did he would release the heat that was gathering behind his gritted canines. A tongue of flame wound dart out, shaped like jaws, and snap at whatever stood a metre away - currently her.

All for honour, all for a good fight.

Philomel threw her body and mind into her blade dance ... blade and hilt dance, with the strong one opposite her, relying on her own ability to bring in more blows than someone normal could hope to. Because magic - for now, that was not for use. The earthquake had been but an initial display with their power. Now she wanted to dance, blade to blade. She switched hands to hold Nameless, the sword, with her uninjured arm and grew determination to win.

The Beserk Rage lasted for a puny fifteen seconds.

Only moments after the pommelwhacking started, the burst in anger fueled energy halted.

"OH MY WORD THAT HURTS!"

Felicity almost dropped her sword. She had to step back, quickly grasping the hilt with one hand and her wound with the other. As common sense returned to her, she staggered and held her sword in a protective guard.

Her abilities remained useless and monstrous in function. Tears almost entered her eyes as she gazed upon the faunas she actually got several hits in on. Even if she managed to hit her, the faun had no form of significant fallback. No concussions, no anything... Slowly stepping away, still holding her throbbing stomach, reality washed over her in waves.

The severity of her disadvantages settled in.

As her visible breath escaped from her lips in heavy heaves, the bleeding child tried to continue her backwards steps. She was outmatched and wounded, yet determination still shone in her green eyes. For all that fight the child had, fear was still a very real deal. She herself did not catch herself shaking. As blood dripped onto her arm, then onto the greyscale rocks at her feet, she was unable to get a grip. She was completely sane again, but was unable to take any initiative. She had spent an entire year on her own, scaled literal mountains, yet here... she was at loss.

She was independent like a wildcat and bold as a badger. She was strong like a bear and courageous like an eagle. Yet somehow, very deep down, she secretly longed for the Ashla she once knew to be beside her. She was still a sixteen year old girl. She still needed support.

However, as her opponent was probably grasping her advantage, her chances of aid were slim.

The fight continued.

The fox was full of flaming fiery. His eyes burned like hot coals tossed into a wildfire. The flames rippled like a rich lion's mane. This monster of a creature was the wrath of summer scorching winter's cold lack of heart.

What if winter was too cold? Could snow not melt under a burning spring's sun?

Felicity was Ashla's number one goal right now. She always regretted how she and a close alchemist forced onto Felicity powers that were uncontrollable. Felicity's strength would last for a meager fifteen seconds that were passing in a flash. Thoughts racing, Ashla was determined to get past the fox.

Said fox, however, had other plans.

The moment Ashla pulled herself up from the cliff, the fox spat flames from its mouth. The flames seemed to forge the shape of monstrous jaws.

Oh bloody Thayne!

Ashla instantly took a small step back - before swiftly attempting to regain balance. Trapped. Upon watching the nightmarish licks of burning orange come close, Ashla pulled her right arm in front of her body, sacrificing her secondary limb.

The feeling was horrendous. As her arm twisted in its burning agony, Ashla was surprised when raw flesh was ripped off the exposed skin between her gauntletted forearm and plated shoulder. A shout of pain was emitted as the flames dissipated, leaving behind a mangled and bloodied upper arm. Her delyn plates too were dislocated, the leather gloves severely hot. Healing ice immediately froze over her entire arm. In due time the wounds would be numbed. However, the discomforting collision of fire and ice caused tears of infliction to form in her blue and burgundy eyes.

Her arm was useless now. As it hung limp on her arm, Ashla glanced down to her dominant left hand. She formed a tight fist. As the short claws emerged from the gauntlet, cold steam rose from her hands. She glared up at the enormous fox. She was bathed in the pain of wounds both physical and emotional. She felt the dire desperation of protecting what was her's. Icebreaker would have to resort to using brutal magic to reach her adoptive little sister.

She was not playing games.

She outstretched her good arm. She winced as the bitter winds of the barren earth nipped her wounded right arm. Determination pushed her as she stepped closer to the fox, almost in haste. As she growled for both her wound and her loved one, she caused a hunk of crimson colored ice to grow between her and the beast.

The ice was crawling with bacteria and viruses. It was corroded in the filth of disease and pestilence. The bowling ball sized chunk of ice, a bleeding rose in a dull graveyard of stone, grew lighter in color and more frictioned than its first summoning. Icebreaker clenched her hand shut, causing the ice to explode. As shrapnels of maroon ice flew in the air, Ashla made a mad dash. She hoped that even if the fox dodged, it would distract the creature. Hopefully, she could reach Felicity Rhyolite.

Had she forgotten that this was the Citadel? Had Ashla's paranoia of loss surpassed common sense? It takes one look into her past to see how jaded this crumpled rose was...

Echoes of her alternate self silently creeped upon her subconscious. Ayleth.