The Arena

[Philomel]

Thump, thump, thump.

Damn, was her first thought. He had gotten fast ...

Quickly, sucking in her breath Philomel pulled her and Veridian's resources, without permission reaching for their bond. The constraining floor, which was perhaps no more than thirty metres in diameter, restricted where they might go, but it was the only try possibility for now. The decision was made in a split second, as she knew the man's strength and saw him coming possibly even faster than herself, rapidly thundering over the dusty ground like an oncoming storm -

The ground opening up beneath them Philomel and Veridian vanished in a swirl of dirt and breeze, sucked in through the portal which she summoned. It left John to slice at emptiness, for they disappeared mere half a second before his blow struck. Re-entering the arena and the quiet murmurs of the crowd, as well as a base line of some fell boos, the faun and fox came up where John had begun, watching his blow come to nothing. Strike to nothingness.

Damn, she repeated, and Veridian entirely accepted her thoughts.

Fire? he suggested and she sighed, nodding, lowering herself into a ready crouch, steeling herself for the likelihood of John coming at her again.

Yes. That may be of some help, she said. I suspect even my strength as the goat ...

It was Veridian's turn to agree. Not even she has the strength to defeat him. Use swords for now. I will ...

With a lithe twist of his tail he began to sprint away from Philomel. He showed her an image of him, running at the same time as spurting into flame. Even though strength and speed could not work against Cromwell in this fight, it still might be possible that the throes of flame and ash might have some effect. In this run, as fast as a simple fox could be, Veridian would grow, doubling, tripling, quadrupling, quintupling in size until he was as huge as a wild horse and just as stubborn. Though his strength would be little compared to the half-giant, there would still be fire aplenty, as well as a distanced bite that may, or may not, give them some advantage.

Philomel could see the plumes of smoke beginning to billow from his coat. She nodded with approval, fixing her jaw into a state and preparing to have to stave off John - at least for a short while. If she remembered him well he was very well armoured, to almost every degree. Her mythril blades, if she could find a way to get past his array of vigorous, agile bolows, could do some damage against him, but it was likely his head that they would need to go for.

Pah, we are aiming directly for his eyes this whole battle, Philomel advised, sending her awareness into the ground for ... anything. Grabbing the first small root she found - the beginnings of a simple dandelion weed - she began abstract communication with it as a last resort. Eyes.