That's the Name of the Game: Madison Freebird vs. Dra

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Dra.

That's it. Just plain old Dra.

I held the battle notice with the tips of my forefinger and thumb, as if the sheet of beige parchment were a poisonous, rabid beast that just so happened to have been lit ablaze.

Dra? Who fucking names their kid Dra? This better not be some cocky elven half-breed son of a bitch with an impossible last name.

I say impossible because those elves sure know how to abuse apostrophes and consonants when naming their young.

I crumpled up the piece of paper and hastily crammed it into my leather satchel as I arrived at the Dajas Pagoda. The monks greeted me half-heartedly as I threw open the wooden double doors and entered the main chamber. I regarded them with a small nod as I strode towards the antechamber that contained the portal to my ghostly carnival. The sparsely decorated room contained nothing more than an old black leather sofa and a few small windows that allowed the sunlight to come in and illuminate the place. Along the back wall sat an archway of stones that had various runes etched into them. I moved to the wall and placed a gloved hand on one of the runes. One by one, they lit up and glowed a bright orange hue that was reminiscent of the setting sun. A light hum filled the room as a shimmering blue portal appeared inside the archway.

The ethereal portal rippled like a pool of water whose inert state was disrupted by a kid hurling a stone into it. Through this gate was my arena, the carnival populated by the spirits of the dead. Every time, the layout was the same, but the faces were all different. I have never seen the same mom yelling at the same child twice, nor have I been nagged by the same carny who was just looking for a sucker to play his game.

Every now and again, however, I would see the translucent visage of someone my brothers or myself killed, back when I was working as an assassin with them. It was always a slightly unnerving experience, watching someone you've released from this mortal coil casually stroll on by while talking to a loved one, or screaming with excited joy as they had the time of their afterlife riding the tilt-a-whirl or roller coaster. You just want to reach out and sincerely apologize for committing such an unholy act against them, hoping that they forgive you.

I tried it once. Her name was Melissa Forrester. She was worth three thousand gold; a price placed on her head by a mob boss who told her some valuable information before she conveniently vanished. The image of her face, contorted in pain and fear, was forever burned into my mind as I sliced her throat and stomach open with my old pair of steel daggers. When I saw her that one time playing the ring toss game on the midway, I remember touching her lightly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," I told her, my voice choked.

"For what," she replied cheerfully before turning her attention back to the game. I remember crying a little bit after that--streaking my eyeshadow right before a scheduled fight in the carnival.

I came to the slow realization that when these people died, they left all of their earthly baggage behind and passed on with no regrets. Despite discovering that, I still feel a small knot of guilt in my stomach whenever I see a familiar face in my carnival.

Every time I step through the portal before me, I remember that encounter. A slight shiver passed down my spine as I immersed myself in the blue magic, coming out into the monochrome carnival. Throngs of ghosts mulled about as I pushed myself through the sea of spirits, towards the faded wooden bench that I frequently met my "students" at.

It was a relatively nice day--might've been overcast, but with the black and white nature of this place, it's damn near impossible to tell anyways. Everything moved around like clockwork; stand vendors and carnies shouted at everyone who passed by, hoping to get another customer in before their lunch breaks. The roller coaster surrounding the carnival screamed past, roaring down the rickety steel-lined tracks a bit too fast for my tastes.

I sat down on the bench and pulled out some stupid book that I had on loan from the library--not my usual magic-related fare, but a story about a dystopian future where everything, including mankind, was run by machines. When I picked it up, I thought it was a pretty interesting idea, but the character and plot development... Shitty isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Flipping to the page marked with a black feather, I dug in, waiting for that familiar whoosh that signaled my opponent's arrival to echo through the carnival.

[Dra]

"You know, Squiggly, I see it sometimes." the auburn-haired actor said as he continued to stare into the portal. "There's always something interesting there, in the corner of my eye, but it never comes out to say hello. I wonder why I have to do battle in such a depressing place. Do you know?"

He had been sitting in front of the thing for a good five minutes, but he had yet to find any compelling reason to enter what seemed to be a genuinely boring world. Though he was usually a rather care-free and rambunctious individual, in finding himself before the gray-colored world Dra could do little but flop on the ground and wonder. Though the spirits on the other side seemed to be having a reasonable time, he couldn't find anything that would compel him to venture inwards. Mostly because, honestly, he had already done everything he saw.

Staring at the world with sky blue spheres, he rattled off his experiences with the games in his mind. I have played billiards in pool houses and eastern taverns, darts in the woods and caverns, and have thrown knives pretty much everywhere but in the bathroom. I once knew a woman who could throw a ball at her own tank from inside, breathe fire while choking on ice, and do the barrel roll in quicksand. As for the games of chance and supposed skill, the only one who doesn't know woe is the shill.

Rolling over his left shoulder and back into a cross-legged position, the fire-wielder thought about what to do. He wanted to continue with the fight and give his opponent someone to engage, but he didn't really want to go to her domain either. Sure he didn't expect to win, but he at least wanted something fun to do if he did. As it was though, her realm offered nothing that he wanted. Then again though, he thought as he leaned forward to get a better view, I haven't seen it all yet.

Having only sat at the perimeter of the world and not entered, he could only see from the vantage of the portal's opening. Though probably comprehensive in the way of games of skill and individual fun-making, the view couldn't have shown all that was within the carnival. Thus, pulling the piece of parchment he had been given upon his acceptance of the terms of battle, he began to write a query to the owner of the realm.

With handwriting and organizational skills akin to a small child, he wrote:


Dear Miss Lady-Who-I-Am-To-Fight:

Hi.

I am sitting outside the shiny thing and am wondering if there is anything interesting inside. It is not that I do not trust you not to have your ghosties murder me, but its just that it seems sooo depressing from the outside. Anyway, because I still want to play with you (<3), I was wondering if you have cotton candy inside. That would definitely get me to come; I love that stuff. Otherwise, if there are rides, I would be willing to haggle.

[a depiction of a childish version of Dra riding a rollercoaster]

- Dra (your opponent)

P.S. Just tell Squiggy your reply. He's smart. xoxoxo

Folding the note in upon itself three times, he held it up. Aware of his desires, Squiggle, the living ball of ink and energy that was his best friend, uncoiled its thin mass and curled itself about the letter. Resembling then a simple piece of parchment wrapped in small black ropes, it lowered to hover in front of its master, owner, and best friend.

Waving his fingers, Dra gave the following very strict orders: "Treat her nicely, Squiggy. Just because we are probably going to kill each other very soon does not mean you have to attack her. Just give her the message and then come back. If she wants to come, just make sure to keep an eye on her too because she'll likely have one on you."

Bobbing in acknowledgment, the little package-thing turned about and hurled itself through the portal. Not wasting its time with pleasantries or concerns for the spectral folk, the Squiggle rushed through the carnival. Though it often lost its way and had to back track, it still managed to find who it had been searching for within moments. Bobbing up to the only other non-ghost entity in the whole of the area, it dropped its package into her lap. Returning then to its normal hectic, squiggly form, Squig waited for the eventual reply.

Meanwhile, outside, the lowly Dra flopped onto his back and began to stare at the ceiling. The portal was beginning to give him a migraine. Owwie.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Ten pages in, and I could already feel my eyes glaze over. The words on the pages started blurring and jumbling together, bouncing around the page tauntingly. After a while, I gave up trying to push myself further into the book; I quickly shut it and shoved it back into my satchel. "They can't all be classics," I muttered to myself.

My opponent was several minutes late. Crossing my arms and sighing deeply, I looked around the bustling carnival, trying to look for a way to distract myself until this Dra guy shows up. Several ghosts at the milk bottle game caught my attention--these young creatures repeatedly threw balls at the weighed-down pyramid, hitting the glass more often than not, but not hard enough to tip it over. The carny, his shirt drenched with sweat and pulled tight over his bulging belly, chuckled to himself as the kids handed over another hefty chunk of their allowance for three more attempts at a stuffed animal.

Then, I heard the telltale whoosh of the portal opening and closing. My eyes immediately darted down the midway, searching for any sign of my opponent. Nothing yet, just the numerous translucent figures of the deceased floating about as they idly moved from stand to stand, ride to ride. Several more minutes passed without event, until I caught something out of the corner of my eye. It was moving towards me at a good speed, and made a perfect landing in my lap. It was a letter wrapped in a thin black string.

What the hell is this, I thought to myself as I picked up the folded piece of paper. No sooner than when my fingers touched it the string undid itself and began levitating in front of me in a bunched up, curly mass. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, this thing, as it floated through the air, bobbing and weaving like a jumbled mess of black yarn. I didn't quite know what to think about it--perhaps the letter I held had a few answers. I unfolded the paper, taking a few seconds to read it.

My heart sank as I folded the sheet back up and set it on the wooden bench beside me. The handwriting, the language... The heart and picture of the roller coaster... The string of X's and O's at the end... I was about to kick the living daylights out of a child. This had to have been some sort of a cruel joke.

I regarded the thing--Squiggy, the letter said its name was--with a blank stare. After thinking the situation over for a few seconds, I muttered the short incantation that only myself and the monks who manifested the carnival knew. A few feet to my right, a shimmering portal opened up, showing the rusty bronze colored decor of the antechamber. "Go and tell Dra that I'll be right there." I stood up, brushing a few food crumbs off the backside of my vlince dress before I set out for a grouping of food stands across the way.

Someone set this poor kid up; that was the only explanation. He had no idea what kind of trouble he was getting into, coming here and doing battle with a Dajas Pagoda Warrior. I stopped at one of the stands and ordered a thing of cotton candy before I doubled back and went through the portal.

The short trip through the portal always left me feeling disoriented and nauseated. As my stomach settled and my vision cleared, I could make out the features of the antechamber--the light brown walls, the hexagon-tiled floor, the black leather couch, and...

To my surprise, lying on the floor a few feet away from me was a man whose face was blank with boredom. Not a young boy, as I originally though, but a guy who looked like he was maybe a couple years younger than I was. His messy mop of brown hair covered the floor and his boyish face, obscuring a set of innocent azure eyes that seemed intent on drilling a hole through the ceiling. He was simply dressed; a dark brown vest covered contrasted with his tan shirt and pants.

I cleared my throat, trying to get his attention. "Dra?" I asked the boy. "Hi. I'm Madison Freebird." I handed him the fluffy pink cloud of candy before throwing myself wearily onto the couch. I studied him intently for a few moments. Nothing about this kid screamed fighter to me--but who was I to judge? Nobody comes to the Dajas Pagoda expecting to do battle with a pale scarecrow wearing a purple dress.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my legs and putting my hands under my chin. Good manners told me to keep my mouth shut, but my curiosity about the boy and his purpose was getting the best of me. "You don't look like much, if you don't mind me saying. Why are you here?"

[Dra]

It takes a while to find someone in a crowd, the young boy thought as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. Even if they were the only other living thing on a dead world you still had to get past all the intervening muck and confront them. And in that situation, what was bound to happen? Would they attack? Or would they be too perturbed to move? Would they laugh? Or would they cry, overwhelmed by the prospect of another?

Dra wondered and in doing so found himself once again disseminated throughout a dreamer's void.

Though he still laid upon the hexagon-laced floor in reality, staring at the ceiling, the vast majority of his cursory consciousness was driven back into the realm of imagination it called home. There he saw, in masterful and dramatic angles, the movements of a faceless figure. Marked in red to differentiate him from the horde of dead and damned, the man's ordeals were made to seem herculean as the image panned out to reveal his enemy's innumerable mass. Thankfully however, they were not. In the face of the editorial privileges of the mind they were as if a great mass of butter when presented with a heated knife. They were discarded within in moments as one scene faded into another.

As the scene reemerged, all the dreamer could see was a gray blob of an outcropping. Designed to be rock, but failing horribly, it was quickly forgotten as the hero reared up from behind it. Seemingly a changed man, if the darker crimson hue was indication, he contrasted greatly with the figure that laid before him. Unseen to the narrator for the first few moments, the women came into view as the man approached and the image shifted behind him. Slender, with a hint of menace, she was as featureless as the man though lad out in a violet color rather than red.

Confronting the woman, the hero seemed unfazed as both she and the scenario he was apart of split into a variety of facets. Akin to a motion blur--which was something the host of the dream had experienced once at the hands of a mob once--it showcased a small subsection of the emotional reactions the woman could deliver. In one, she drew a small dagger and attacked. In another, she shook lightly (seemingly disturbed), but did little else. In a third, she bowled over in laughter, howling capriciously at the sight of a living, breathing figure. In the final one, she collapsed to the ground and wept, overcome with emotions scarcely comprehensible.

As for the man, Dra found him reacting the same way no matter what the woman did. Walking forward, he would stop within two or three feet of the woman, turn a violent shade of red, and swing his foot in a beautiful arc directly at the woman's right temple. Though he may have had to jump or squat as the woman's pose required, the feeling was always the same on connection. As featureless extremity met featureless face, there was a rumbling. Traveling throughout the whole of the watcher's consciousness, they slowly increased in intensity as the scenes repeated themselves until finally, with one awesome thrashing, the man was thrown from his imaginings.

Opening his eyes with a flutter, for they had surely fallen in his absence, Dra swatted away the living mass of ink known as Squiggle. Having been around for a good couple of minutes, it had been prodding him with a harsher portion of its being as it tried to rouse him from his sleep. It had things to tell him and there were some things you couldn't communicate through such a stupor. Of course the moments after weren't much better, but as a loyal familiar the Squig still had to try.

Floating in front of his creator, Squiggy had just begun its mimed explanation of the encounter with the fire wielder's opponent as the woman herself arrived. Appearing from the portal she was accompanied by an attention-drawing woosh sound that made her the focus of both the man and his squiggle.

Having propped himself up on his arms, the boy didn't seem what many others saw. His concerns didn't lay with strange purple dresses, pale skin, or a lithe, or otherwise anorexic, figure. These weren't the things that interested him. Rather what mattered, and what he received graciously received from the woman, was the swirl of pure sugary goodness that she held. Pink in color and of the lightest textures, it ballooned outward from a paper holder to eclipse views and mark the end of diets. It was majestic and lovely and largely gone in one fell, swooping bite.

Though one moment licking his lips in sticky delight, Dra found himself a moment later turning to his squiggle in wonder. Regarding the mystical mass, he noticed the solemnity that permeated the black coils. Closing his eyes, he felt through their connection a longing for something whose make-up resembled his own and whose consumption would sustain him. Quickly catching onto the idea, the manic individual who owned and operated the Squig offered up the rest of his cotton candy with a smile.

Bobbing happily, the string-based entity descended upon the candy like a horde of locusts and thus obscured the whole of the mass beneath it. Making no sounds or movements but for the the normal migrations of its coils, Dra was forced to wonder whether it fed at all. Within a second though, his doubts were put to side as the creature departed the paper to float once again. Leaving behind only that which was inedible, the squiggle was both joyous and imperceptibly longer following the meal. Sadly though, as the woman spoke, he wasn't able to give his thanks.

Turning his attention to the woman and her question, Dra raised an eyebrow. Though he could admit that he didn't look like a very strong fighter--or a strong anything for that matter--he couldn't help but find it a bit odd for her to be the one to say so. Not only did she appear odd in her dress, which seemed to be better made for dancing or courting rather than trading blows, but she seemed far less real than he did. Maybe it was simply because she hung out with ghosts, but she was paler than bleached bones and looked like she would tumble in a stray wind. Even so, such things were forgotten and forgiven as soon as the dreamer found it was his turn to reply.

Smiling up at the woman, the boy enthusiastically called out, "I'm here to fight! ... Duh."

Snapping his fingers and summoning up some of the bits of thought that lined his cage, he wasn't particularly surprised as puff of flame appeared a foot left of his head. Remarkably unintimidating, it was gone even before he could get his hand up to pretend to wave it away. Even so, he tried before a moment later deciding to do something else.

Drawing close to the woman, he laid down on his ankles in front of her and pouted.

"You do still want to fight right?" he asked, as tears welled in his eyes.

He really did want to fight, but he thought that his demeanor made it seem like he didn't. Thus, he decided to do something subtle to win her back.

Adopting an innocent smile, he happily replied for her, "We can try and kill each other and then have more candy."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Such innocence in this boy's voice... For some reason, it intrigued me. There was an eagerness in Dra's eyes that I haven't seen in years, reminding me of the days me and my brothers spent as children--before we became assassins. A small, condescending smile crept across my face.

"Well, of course you came here for a fight. But you still didn't answer my question. Why are you here; why are you looking for a fight?" I looked deep into the boy's bright blue eyes as he pleaded with me, searching for some sort of purpose. "You're, what, sixteen or seventeen or something? You don't have anything to prove at that age. You have other priorities in life... Finding a nice girl to spend your future with, deciding whether you're going to school or learning your father's trade, running around and exploring... You know, stuff like that."

The grin disappeared from my face, leaving nothing but a scornful frown behind. "Myself, on the other hand, I have a purpose here. It's not because I enjoy fighting; oh no, I actually hate it. It's all I've ever known, all I've ever lived by." A deep sigh escaped my lips as I leaned back and sunk into the leather couch. "No matter what I think about it, I need to fight, just to prove to myself that I am alive. Without violence, I'm nothing; I don't exist."

I stood up and waved a hand dismissively. "But, I suppose it's my duty to wipe the floor with you no matter what your reason is, seeing as you already paid the entry fee. Come." Reaching out and touching the stone runes, I activated the portal once more. The vivid blue disk spread itself across the cold wall, displaying the rippling visage of the monochrome carnival.

Another day, another dollar, I thought to myself as I immersed myself in the portal.

I emerged in the middle of the midway once more, smack dab in the middle of the carnival. Off in the distance, I could barely make out the bench I was sitting on earlier when Dra's odd companion dropped his letter off in my lap. The carnival had continued operating without me; to my left, I could make out the ferris wheel slowly making its rotations over the roofs of the milk bottle game stall and fried dough stand.

A second after I set foot on the gray dirt, I heard the loud whoosh of the portal opening again, depositing Dra and his unnatural friend a short distance behind me. Within a split second, I decided to show this kid how big of a mistake he made by coming to the Dajas Pagoda.

Like a flash of lightning, I twisted my body around, sending my balled up right fist towards the kid's jawline with the intent of giving him a few of his own teeth as a grim souvenir of his day at the fair.

[Dra]

Continuing to sit on his ankles, Dra was disappointed when his opponent's question turned into something rhetorical. He had plenty of good reasons to fight as he did. For one, he had never been in a battle where death was encouraged, or even allowed, and wanted to try it out. He also thought that by fighting he would meet interesting people who he could get adventuring tips from. Finally, he simply wanted to see what would happen if he happened to get killed during the bout. He had never experienced death before and thought that it would be pretty fun. Sadly, with Madison talking so much, he was unable to tell her such.

Instead, he simply listened intently to her brief, but telling, exposition. To his dismay he found that her life was full of violence she didn't even want to take part it. It was rather sad, but she seemed to persist anyway. He supposed that it must have had something to do with the monochromatic circus. She probably kept something fantastic there that kept her from becoming too angst-ridden or detached. He decided he'd have to investigate it after their fight was over. As for that, it seemed to be continuing.

Rising off his ankles as the woman opened the portal, Dra waved for his squiggle to follow him. Bobbing through the air like a stringy balloon, it moved to hover just over its' owner's left shoulder. Once it was there the fire wielder took a deep breath, and walked through the portal after his opponent.

Arriving on the other side accompanied by a nice whooshing sound, the actor took but a moment to recall his environment. Pulling from what he had seen on the other side, he noted that for all of the things around him there existed only one color and its various shades. Expanding outward for hundreds of feet, if not miles, the gray-scale circus was filled to the brim with rides, gaming huts, and show tents. Even for them though, there still seemed to be something disturbingly off about the place, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. It wasn't the happy ghosts or shoddily constructed huts; it was something more pervasive.

I wonder if I can get Madison to tell me what it is before we begin.

Turning away from his brief perusal of the environment, the new fighter felt his body freeze as his fight-or-flight reflex suddenly kicked in. Having seen his opponent's balled fist in his periphery, he felt what little thought he had flush from his body as instinct kicked in. Relaxing his legs, he fell backwards onto his butt as Madison's pale fist passed within millimeters of his face. At the same time, he raised his right hand into the air to enact the second part of his reflex and do what he did to all big scary things that could hurt him: Burn them.

Before he could do that however, his Squiggle reacted to the fear he had felt over his connection to his master by rushing forward at the assassin. Compacting into a tight ball of black inky coils, it aimed its attack at the woman's chest in the hopes of knocking her back, if not stealing her breath. Unbeknownst to it however, it would soon have an aid in its attack.

Summoning up the flames that hung on the edge of his consciousness, the young combatant shot a ball of flame from his fist. Though normally something only meant to knock a person back or burn them lightly, it found its effect doubled as it caught the speeding Squiggle aflame. Turning the familiar into a living, though not breathing, projectile, the flame had done well for a weapon costing little more than a heavy exhalation.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I'll give the kid this much; he's quick. Not exactly the most graceful opponent I've had, but he's damn quick. As my fist penetrated the air in front of Dra, he half dodged, half fell backwards, landing flat on his ass on the hard-packed dirt. As if it were reflex, he rose his right hand. Fire swirled into existence, jets of bright burning magic coiling themselves into a tight ball in the middle of his fist.

Oh shit, I thought to myself as my face contorted in surprise. Shit, shit, shit!

As I drew my right fist back, I caught Dra's odd familiar screaming through the air towards me out of the corner of my eye. It was headed for a high speed collision with my chest. Two attacks coming at once--I had to get the hell out of the way of both.

I caught the small sound of the fireball being expelled from the kid's hand. Instead of hitting me, the strange ball of black collided with the projectile, allowing itself to be consumed by the traveling flames. Acting quick, I immediately dropped to the hard, gray dirt. I could feel the heat as the burning familiar soared harmlessly over my head.

Dammit, a fucking mage! Fuuuuck! I snorted, kicking up a small cloud of dust as my bangs scattered across my forehead.

I was completely thrown off my game plan by the nature of my opponent. I've grown accustomed to fighting people who rely on weapons or fists--only once during my time at the Dajas Pagoda have I ever fought someone who wielded magic like this. Some demon guy... I had trouble recalling the strategies I had to create on the fly. The only thing I remember was that magical projectiles like, say, fireballs, weren't terribly difficult to dodge, granted that the caster telegraphed the shot. But, this time around I had the also worry about that damned whatever-the-hell-it-was that accompanied that nappy little shit. If it was ordered around by Dra, I could handle that. If it acted independently; had intelligence all its own...

Well, balls.

But I couldn't worry about that right now--I had to pick myself up off the dirt and pummel the boy before the flaming familiar could double back and take another pass at me. I commanded a length of wire to come out from around my left arm. The steel thread shot out towards Dra's right ankle, hoping to ensnare him and prevent him from getting away from my next assault: As fast as I could, I pushed myself up to my feet. My right foot fired off a roundhouse kick to his prone skull. The slit in the leg of my dress parted as my heeled leather boot tried to find a new home in his jaw.

[Dra]

[OOC: Is this post as bad as I think it is?]

Dra watched the scene with as much focus as he could muster. Though he could admit that the battle was important and that the immolation of his familiar was something to be slightly concerned about, he couldn't help but give a bit of thought to the state of his rump. It had really been a hard fall and the poor thing didn't deserve such treatment, even in such dire circumstances. He was sorry for it and decided that he'd give it something soft to sit on later. As for now, he had other things to worry about.

Turning his attention back to his opponent, he watched as she dodged his projectile with surprising elegance. Dropping to the ground, she sent his partner barreling past her, a victim of his own momentum. Thankfully though, that wasn't much of a punishment for such a stringy entity. In fact, it was more of a boon. Undoing its overlapping structure, the Squiggle quickly returned to a coiled state. Then, using the speed it had gathered it began curling to left. Turning until it had reversed its direction, Squiggy then straightened its trajectory and aimed itself at Madison's rising form.

Having been watching the familiar's movements, Dra was surprised by a constricting feeling on his right ankle. Looking down, he discovered it was a bit of steel cable coming from his opponent's sleeve. Unable, and largely unwilling, to do something about it, he decided to continue on with the inkling of a plan that had been forming in his mind.

Raising his left forearm, the former acrobat prepared to block the incoming kick. Keeping the extremity about a foot away from his jawline, he bent it slightly towards himself. Meeting the incoming roundhouse kick, the forearm dissipated some of the impact by allowing it to roll up its length even as it absorbed the rest. Utilizing the momentum to his advantage, the prone figure curled his feet up as best he could and performed an over-the-shoulder roll to the right. At the same time, he felt as the familiar entered its final trajectory.

Aiming at the woman's midriff, the familiar made to reenter its balled form, but this time expanded it outward. Rather than being small and compacted, the Squiggle's shape was simply the outline of a ball trailing its own fiery coils. Though this form would lose some of its force on impact, the errant tendrils would expand the impact of the blow, hopefully setting fire to some clothing or hair or otherwise singeing skin. Even this, however, depended on the hope that the block would somehow delay the woman's safe positioning a moment or otherwise distract her enough so that she didn't notice the errant projectile.

In the mean time, whether or not the hit went through, Dra would try and get into a defensible position wherever his roll ended. Though his forearm hurt and was probably bruised, either on the skin or deeper, he would worry about that later. Right now he needed to fight.