A Beautiful Day to Die.

[Ioder]

Closed to Philomel

“A bridge?” One of the monks asked Ioder in astonishment. The simplicity of the arena was a shock to the monk, accustomed to make elaborate dark places. Ioder nodded as he continued to describe his arena.

“Yes, a bridge made of thick cobblestone. There will be three arch ways with raises cobblestone towers reaching upwards of twenty-five feet.” Ioder continued as he checks his personal gear. His Damascus arm gauntlet fitted perfectly along with his Damascus yew-bow bladed wrist gauntlet. Today Ioder would be combatting in a form he does not to normally use. In the appearance of a twenty year old only for the reason as this is the best fitting body for his gear he recently acquired with Gavner during Beinost.

“Will that be the extent of you arena sir?” The monk said as he finished his hastily written notes of Ioder’s stage. Putting his quill down the monk looked up to the combatant. Ioder recognized the monk as he was finishing, the same as before when he was here to fight Talon. “If that does finish you arena up I’ll be ready to construct it post heist.” Ioder nodded once again giving the O.K. to go ahead and start.

The construction as brief as only ten minutes later the monk returned to tell the Seraphim that his arena was complete. The monk then started to shoe the Seraphim ushering Ioder into the arena. It seemed like impatience but was it simply excitement.

Do all the monks that reside here freely enjoy to watch men and women die for their amusement? Ioder pondered this thought as he was pushed to the door of the arena. Opening the door he saw a most beautiful sight, wide open blue sky and his grey bridge contrasting the scenery. Beautiful work these monks did, truly beautiful. Ioder walked about fifteen feet to the middle of the bridge his boots clunking with every step, just waiting for anyone to appear.

[Philomel]

"Ah, Lady Nightingale. We are so pleased to have you back."

The Ai'borone's smile was so obviously fake it made Philomel internally cringe. But she kept her face calm and stoic and simply nodded in reply. Around her hooves Veridian wound his way, making the form of a continous infinity symbol. Round, then through, round then through.

For a while the monk just looked oddly confused. The seconds ticked by like mayflies dying as he continued his idiocy. After a while the faun-whore just stepped around him, taking her own initiative. She continued down the sadly familiar corridor, looking from door to door. There were some fully closed, and others slightly open. One was charred, another had a hole bashed into it and had blood stained around the cracks. Veridian followed, pausing only for a moment to scratch his ear. Eventually they got to a door that was white and boring and was open.

Philomel paused, and gestured to it with a nod of her head, "I am assuming this one is free."

"Uh, yes, madam, but-"

She ignored him, and stepped in. As she did so she frowned, stepping directly into a gigantic archway. It was made of heavy blocks of hewn grey stone, held much without mortar. Her eyes scanned the area, and saw a simple stretch of pathway, made of the same stone. Silently the door closed before her, just after the Earth Spirit fox leapt into the space. Yet she was not bothered by it. All she was bothered by was the young man with elegant blonde hair, standing facing her near the centre of the bridge.

"Who are you?" she asked directly, her hand moving to a throwing dagger strapped to her thigh. "And why a single bridge?"

[Ioder]

"Ioder Madam, and it seems that you'll be opponent this day." The Seraphim said as he bowed elegantly to the Faun. As he bowed his green overcoat and blonde hair twisted in the breeze blowing across the cobblestone bridge. His piecing blue eyes locked onto the faun and her fox friend, within his crystal gaze a sense of chaos imbued his entire being.

Ioder wasn’t sure but this faun seemed to be familiar, maybe he had met her before. He felt disappointment towards the girl, like he had maybe let her down before. Yet now, nothing like that mattered. All that mattered was to test his own metal now, to test his new strength since Beinost. His trials with Gavner the vampire general proved that Ioder was no frail creature.

“A bridge you ask.” Ioder responded to the faun. A nod was all she gave to him. “Well, this make from a pretty straight forwards contest. No places to hide, no places to run.” Ioder said as he revealed his Damascus bladed gauntlet.

“Oh.” The faun replied as he gently caresses her knife. Ferocity evident in her tone and stance she took.

“Now allow me to begin this contest without any further delay.” Ioder said as an almost blinding like enveloped his right arm and his blade extending from it. Lurching forward Ioder started running at the faun. Ioder running with his bladed gauntlet behind him and his full arm gauntleted arm crossed in front of his chest. A stance only used by experienced Seraphim planning to end conflict quickly.

[Philomel]

She had not expected him to introduce himself so fast. Nor had she expected him to directly attack her. Instead she had stood, fingering her blade with a delicate touch, wishing to keep the boy on communication before they fought. He was right, of course, when he spoke of the lack of escape off the side of the bridge. There were only two places to go - backwards and forwards, and even forwards was limited. There was the vague sense of a shadow at the end of the bridge, and after that a simple darkness. Around them, upon this bridge, there was sun shining from a strange above world, and the far distant tinkling of a possible river below. From what she could sense, through the rock and the miniscule pieces of dust, only the other being existed, and that, really was all.

All in this magical blocked world of Citadel experience. Her finger slipped, sending a drop of blood falling to the floor, to merge with the grey stonework. Frowning, Philomel looked down, watching as it formed a perfect round circular bubble, thanks to physics, and asked Veridian what he thought.

The fox-formed Spirit seemed to think nothing of it. All he was concerned with was the tingling sensation at the back of Philomel's mind. Screeching a high tone he warned her - Get out of the way! - a sound in her mental lobe that was coupled with a physical sound.

Flumt, flumt, patter, patter, pat.

The grey eyes looked up, and widened slightly, astounded to see the young adult racing towards her. He had a determined expression on his face, and set eyes, completely focused. A blade extended from his right arm, something grey and possibly steel, Philomel supposed. Lithely his feet were carrying him closer, wanting to stab her and have this fight over and done with; yet Philomel was not happy with this result.

Automatically, reflexsively, the faun-whore threw herself into the air. Her muscles contracted, her legs extended, and she let out a short bark of faunish before leaping up and over the fair-haired angelic thing. His appearance said 'human' but his beauty and agility seemed to speak otherwise, but Philomel did not let that distract her. Her jump took her in a gentle high porabola, soaring a few feet above his head, before she landed behind him, two metres away. As he grounded, pausing to figure out where she had gone she twisted to face him and threw the knife.

It spun through the air, a wheel of fate, aimed directly at his lower back. Even if he turned it would be sure to hit. As soon as she had thrown the dagger Philomel drew her sword, blessing the air with its white blade, and raised it to guard her body.

[Ioder]

Ioder watched as the limber faun leap up and over him as he charged. His eyes tracking his opponent in the bright blue sky over him. As she landed she turned and flung her throwing knife without hesitation. It seemed as if Ioder had found himself an able bodied compatant.

"Graaa" Ioder grunted as he fixated on the spinning knife flying towards him. With no time to react physically Ioder relaxed himself waiting for the blade. As the knife would have punctured his flesh instead Ioder erupted, completely enveloping himself in his blinding glimmer. The blade instead was repelled by this blinding aura. Ioder knew where the faun was even if he couldn't exactly see her.

Kneeling down on one knee he pointed his gauntlet's yew bow at the direction of Philomel. In the split second he lowered his defense the Seraphim let fly a yew arrow at the faun. Everything in almost one movenet from the second he repelled her blade to the moment her fired.

"Tricky tricky." Ioder said as he once again rose to his feet. This time he started to sprint at the faun with full intent to close the gap between them. He was not as quick as his arrow but he was indeed in full sprint while the arrow still soared in the air. "But I'm determined to win this." He said as he narrowed the gap.

Nimble and quick was the faun to form a plan of action. At least that was what Ioder deduced as he made his way to the attack. This fight seemed like it would be quick, the limited space proved to be at his advantage for now. As long as he stayed on the attack he would end this without any worrie.

[Philomel]

A flash of brilliant light flashed from the boy. Immediately, Philomel was on her guard. She raised her left forearm slightly to shield her eyes as the glimmer prevailed, yet kept her sword in guard. A clatter was all she heard of her throwing dagger as it was cast aside as easily as a poor insult, and sent to the side and onto the cobbles. Her teeth grated, and a grunt grumbled from her throat.

How very irritating, she concluded of her analysis of the young man, He is magical. Light magic.

Apparently some sort of paladin hero, Veridian finished for her.

She sensed her beloved fox-companion, waiting still in the far reaches near the door. He sat back on his haunches, patiently waiting for his chance to be of use, somewhere in the shadows of the first archway. Right now he was behind the light-bringer boy, and for now this would certainly do. It was, after all, Philomel who had been itching for a fight and eager to play her way once more in the Citadel. He was simply here to assist if needed.

Her sword was raised up, and it took a moment between hearing the twang of the loosened string and a quick swipe of her white blade to deflect the arrow. It was near, terrifyingly near, but Philomel was fast enough with her skilled reflexes of a trained whore to knock it out of the way as it powered towards her chest.

The arrow was very soon followed by the assailant himself. He had the face of a determined demon, set to destroy whomever stood in his meagre way. Philomel took another leap back - a smaller one, only a couple of metres - to give her the space needed to set herself at rights. As she rose into the air she prepared herself, and swung the white sword of snows down, setting it to parry and thrust to her heart's content. When she landed she clashed straight, blade to blade directly, and she opted for a dance. Every movement he made, she made back, and thusly they danced on the straightened bridge, until the faun-whore opted for a feint.

She made a fake lunge for his shoulder, and then at the last moment pulled out her wicked keris dagger, the Death-Bringer, and aimed for his unprotected thigh.

[Ioder]

She’s swift and nimble, and not a wasted movement. Ioder thought as he and the faun danced blade to blade. Each of Ioder’s quick slashes countered beautify by Philomel. Her own strikes a mixture of accurate and animalistic swipes of her blade. How skilled a woman, Ioder concluded simply on he and she’s parrying.

Pushing the faun farther and farther back, Ioder noticed a fault in her footing. Seeing this he Ioder lunged forward with his blade aiming for the fauns sword arm shoulder. But Philomel being the crafty faun tricked him as the fault in footing was only a faint. She lunged using her strong legs to propel herself aiming for to skewer him.

Ioder kicked up slightly with his foot still planted on the ground, an attempt to move his shoulder out of the way of her blade. This was his last second reaction to the faun’s attack. The faun’s sword hadn’t even come inches from his should. Instead as he used his last chance to avoid her blow, she quickly unsheathed a remarkable dagger and swung as Ioder’s leg. What as skilled and seasoned fighter.

Poor thing, did she notice before. Ioder thought pitying the girl. Just as Philomel’s dagger was to have reached Ioder’s thigh a glimmer of angelic light consumed his leg. The two worriers ran past each other as if neither had been struck by the other. Ioder continued his run though he as dangerously nearing the darkness of the boundaries. Philomel ran as well trying to widen the gap or get closer to her fox friend.

Ioder knew how he could gain the advantage of this battle. Ioder turn hard and made his way for the side of the bridge. Full of confidence the Seraphim placed his last running step upon the egde of the bridge and jumped. Arms spread eagle Ioder soar out from the bridge and from his back flashed into view a pair of beautiful angelic seraphim wings. With one wonderful extension of his wings Ioder turned his course and started for the faun. His wings propelling Ioder fast at Philomel. As he soared towards the faun he readying his yew bow once more and fired it at the girl.

“You might be a being of the earth my chances to best in with blades in little. But as long as I rule the air, I will win this.” Ioder yelled to the faun, maybe to warn her of his shot. Regardless he didn’t want this fight to end quickly. He is as any warrior would be enjoying the art of combat. Sure that the faun already noticed the arrow flying.

[Philomel]

The boy leapt from the side of the bridge. The boy threw himself into the air. The boy grew sudden wings and was there, flying, swiftly twisting and turning as fast as Philomel ran. She looked as he spoke, her eyes widening as she watched him. It was undoubtable that he was not human, as her instincts correctly had told her in the beginning.

An arrow, straight and narrow, was released from his bow, in her plain view, and it was easy to duck and dodge it. Glancing, she looked forwards, seeing the dull darkness that was the last archway before her. Her hooves clattered with each pace on the cobblestones, though slowing as she realised she was losing ground. Down here, away from him, she was unable to use her sense of nature, and all goodness was denied to her. Nothing from the beauty of Drys could come to her aid; all she could do was remain here on the bridge and run backwards and forth.

In a desperate attempt to find peace, she leapt again, aiming for the winged creature. She hooked out a second throwing knife and sent it spiralling towards his body. By the fate of his magics, it would likely not hit like the first, and like her keris dagger, and thus she followed it angrily with another.

She landed, heavily but assuredly upon the battlements of the bridge, that wall that separated grey stone from the depths beneath. Balanced there she was between the abyss below and the white sky above, precarious but steady and closer to this devilish angel.

The faun roared, anger lifting into her lungs.

"You cannot defy me!" she screamed, "You cannot defy me, demon, I am the assassin-whore, I am the goddess that lovers fear."

[Ioder]

Soaring through the breezy sky Ioder watched as his faithful arrow smashed into the cobblestone of the bridge. Philomel simply side stepping his shot as if it were mere child’s play. It was true if Ioder hadn’t ascended to the sky the faun’s natural skill on the ground would easily overcome the seraphim. Ioder had already let his light save him twice thus far, but how much longer with that trick work.

Ioder’s eyes still fixating the faun as she prepared her next attack. She leaping into the air once again and hurling a throwing knife at Ioder with all her might. The piece of metal hurling up towards the seraphim was crude and easily noticed to a winged being of the air it was child’s like the arrow was to the faun. Ioder quickly fully extended his wings and halted his body’s forward progression; this with a quick push down Ioder easily out maneuvered the throwing knife. The Seraphim stopped there for a moment suspending his self in midair.

Then a great impact as without paying close attention to the faun Ioder had been struck by a second throwing knife. Dribbles of blood flowing from his upper arm as the knife stuck out of the meat of his young form. Ioder perfectly capable of maintaining flight stayed suspended as he looks down at the faun.

Philomel burst into screams as she pitied Ioder, daring him to conquer her. She claiming to be the assassin-whore, the goddess that lovers fear. And in that instant Ioder remembered this faun, her name was Philomel and once Ioder let a friend of her die out of laziness. Not chasing after the man scorned the whore and left her for dead in the brothel. Great shame came over him as he slowly descended to the cobblestone. His long blonde hair twisting as his foot reaches the ground. With one quick movement of Ioder’s fully plated arm and the knife was pulled from his meat, and quickly thrown off the side of the bridge.

“I would not defy you, I wouldn’t dare to.” Ioder said as his body began to distort and bubble up. He undergoing a metamorphosis to change his form, the one that Philomel maybe would remember. A young boy with a sad face now stood before the faun. Ioder believes that this was his appearance that day. “Philomel.” He spoke her name; even though she hadn’t introduced herself thus far. But this is not a pussy footing contest, Ioder walked into this arena expecting to spill blood.

Now only slightly levitating off the surface of the bridge Ioder leaned forward and began accelerating faster than before at Philomel. His bright light engulfing both his arms at once, though his bladed arm was wounded he was more that capable of still using it. Less effectively yes but use it none the less. With his wings pushing him as fast as they could at the faun Ioder’s smile widened, His blinding aura operated both as a shield and spear, if one of his strikes were to meet flesh of metal it would have a severely high chance of penetration and cleave directly through an enemy. As his distance narrowed between the two Ioder ascended hastily and then descended on top of the faun. His full plate covered arm out with clawed fingertips aimed for the faun’s breast and heart. His Gauntlet would pierce dehlar severely dent mythril, due to it already Damascus plating. His other bladed gauntlet aimed for her shoulder.

[Philomel]

He spoke her name directly. But she did not recognise the young man. As his face shimmered into something younger, more immature her brow furrowed, as if he expected her to remember him from another time, another life.

Hovering just over the dull grey stones his longing eyes searched hers for some sense of familiarity, yet they were not to find it. His tone seemed to earnestly speak of a era when they had known one another, or maybe some event, but to be sure there were many events in Philomel's life. Truth be told she neither recognised young man, nor boy that he transformed into, she just saw him as another face to add to the many she had scorned, betrayed, become brief friends with, or - lets face it - shagged. Maybe he had even fallen in love with her and she had left him; those saddened eyes seemed to speak of such a thing. Yet by all the gods she did not recognise the golden wings holding him high into the air.

"I do not know you," Philomel said, frowning. She glanced to the left, where her two throwing daggers had been so unfortunately cast aside. "I do not recog-"

As if fueled by anger, the angelic boy suddenly struck out with bright light. It was like the same sudden star as before, when her assailant had cast away her keris dagger from slicing his body. She narrowed her eyes, lowering her eyelashes over the pupils like arrow-slitted windows and stared there, remaining in what brilliance she could bare. With her mythril blade, that white fire of death and duty and love, still held in front of her immaculate body she prepared to fend off his erstwhile secondary attack.

Swiftly he descended and proceeded, slamming out for her chest with his taloned glowing gauntlet. She nimbly stepped back, but the deep grey damascus still just tickled. It scraped along the line of the steel breastplate she wore, sizzling away like hot acid, sending a scratch as deep as a silver coin. Flashing out, mad and vicious, the faun-whore was forced to do a double take as the second weaponed hand swung for her collarbone. She ducked, and dived, using every note of skill in her agility book to weave away, yet still the glowing puslating blade caught the flesh. A deep cut was thrust across the skin, and in a cry of anger she dropped her keris dagger, the shock of the injury too surprising to bare.

Hands and knees. Philomel cast herself lithely down to the deck of the cobblestone bridge, and rolled as fast as her speed would carry her. She tucked injury against the beautiful hallowed mythril of her sword and kept it baring her weight as she used every ounce of endurance she had to get away, and fast.

At the same time, operating under the same star, though without any communication other than, My turn, the Earth Spirit ran. He was placed, fair behind the angel and his beloved, but still to the boy's behind. He started out sprinting as Philomel ducked, then galloped as she screamed in pain. At the first complete roll he lunged into the air, white-tipped tail whipping the air as he lunged directly up and for the seraphim's unprotected neck. Right at the nape, where the pain sensors lay. His jaws parted, his claws extended, ready to bite this bastard to death.

[Ioder]

“Get off of me you little fiend!” Ioder yelled just as the fox closed his jaw upon the nape of his neck. He still well in the air started to flail both his leg and wings as his arms reached back behind his head to grab the fox. The furry bastard had completely taken the Seraphim by surprise with his stealthy and light footed paws. His smallish teeth dig into Ioder’s flesh as the two started to ascend higher and higher into the air from Ioder’s struggling. With Ioder’s heavy clawed gaunt he forced his hand upon the foxes neck grabbing hold of it tight.

Ripping the fox off his gashed neck wasn’t difficult but the damage that this fox was capable of had been done. Ioder’s vision started to blur from the pain of his neck, he clutched the neck of the fox just before casting his weight aside over the edge of the bridge.

“Philomel!” Ioder yelled at the top of his scratching voice. Down below he knew that Philomel had bee hurt by his blade and was week. “Philomel, come out you bitch. Look at what I did to you little doggy.” He yelled again trying to lure the faun out so he could deliver his last blow. The faun was quick on her feet; even with a wound he expected nothing less from her. Ioder lowered himself just too about ten feet of the ground, he looked for the faun.

“C’mon! One final clash!” Ioder yelled challenging the faun into ending the fight like warriors. “Let end this and get on our way. We both have better places to be.” Ioder said in malice mannor.

[Philomel]

Down.

That was what she felt, the weight of the world crashing around her as Veridian was whisked away over the edge of the bridge. She could feel the whisper of the wing through his fur, the cold chill of the breeze on his teeth. They were still clenched tight together, the remains of the scraps of skin and flesh that he had managed to prize free from the nape of the angel's neck. In his thoughts there was no pain, just a fresh sense of adorned joy as he felt he was flying, way way down the side of the arching structure. Was there water below? He could not tell. Was there just air? He could not know. All he did was close his eyes and tell Philomel firmly.

Finish this, beloved.

Then he removed himself from her mind entirely, so that she could no longer feel his presence.

Fouly, this creature, their fair-faced opponent, snarled her back to reality. Philomel blinked, and opened her eyes, uncertain of what was occurring. Her mind was fuzzy for a moment, somewhere between loss of blood and loss of her companion's mental touch. Dimly she looked around, trying to focus forwards as Ioder jibbed.

"Come out you bitch, look at what I did to your little doggy ..."

Not in the slightest amused, the Nightingale blinked, then frowned. Slowly her face twisted in the direction of the terribly rude thing and she found herself stepping fully into the light, from under the shadow of the archway.

"He is not a dog," she frowned more.

She moved her hands fast, letting him continue to talk about finishing off this tirade. Arching her eyebrows she shook her head and kept repeating as he jabbered on.

"He is not a dog," said she, placing away her sword with one smooth action, and grabbing her fabric belt with the next.

Yanking on it, she pulled the already partially ripped and ruined material, causing it to fall away rather quickly. She saw Ioder begin to realise what she was doing, and his wings began to rapidly swing with action in order to charge her from a height. With her spare hand she placed it, palm flat on to the ground, keeping it straight and unbent.

"He is not a dog," she stressed.

Effortlessly she swung up the fabric and hurried tied a knot to form a temporary bandage for her injured arm. As eyes were kept on her she began to form the energy in her head, enough to find every dredge of dust in a metre perameter, ones that hid between the linings of the cobbles and had fallen from the sky.

"He ish noft a dogsh," muffled she as she tied the knot tight between mouth and uninjured arm.

Ioder was clean within striking distance. He moved, and he struck, down and hard, whether angered by her apparent lack of want to fight, or the repetition of her words. As his blades moved, however, Philomel's palm flicked up. All at once the dirt and dust between them flicked up, hard and brutal, forming a temporary cloud. She launched it, true and hard, earth magic beyond all reason, straight into the angellic thing's face, without warning and with brutal reality. As soon as she had done she ducked once more, out of the way of any blades or arrows, and just letting the storm that she made smash into Ioder's face and eyes and cause what damage could utterly be beautiful done.

[Ioder]

A dust storm or at least the cloud that consumed Ioder felt like it was. Dirt and dust flushed his face as he hastily attacked the injured faun. He intended to kill her without any resistance but when she just bandaged herself up he grew furious. To take time out of their heated fight to tend to one’s wounds, it was insulting. Ioder’s eyes were wide open as her surprise attack hit him, the dust and dirt making direct contact with his venerable pupils.

“It stings!” Ioder yelled as he flung his bladed arm through the dust cloud flailing to strike down the faun. Again and again he swung through the cloud all in vain; Philomel had clearly backed up to get out of his reach. With a couple mighty beats oh his wings the dust cloud disappeared leaving Ioder still hovering off the ground and ascending higher and higher once again. Ioder letting out a slight chuckle for the fauns wonderfully executed attack, the damage from it was little but very effective.

“I can’t see now. Philomel, you are a very hard person to read.” Ioder said admitting her attack had rendered his defenseless. This was no jest; Ioder had blurry vision at best. Still he ascended higher, with no real plan on how to end this fight. “But you madam with almost little effort have rendered me limited.” He said with one hand constantly rubbing his eyes. Just by keeping a general idea of his location Ioder knew he was located roughly above the center of the bridge.

This is not good, my magic is limited and my vision blurred. There is only one outcome. Ioder thought to himself as he stopped ascending. Just behind him there should have been an arch way closed he had just reached high enough to land on. Slowly he moved back and felt the edge of the tower with his boot. Taking the moment to firmly plant his feet Ioder decided that this fight was more or less already over. He had no real idea even where the faun was at this point. She for all he knows had silently climbed the tower and was already behind him ready to slit his neck.

“Well finish it faun.” Ioder said as he let his wings rest and he waited standing atop the tower with the wind gracefully twisting his blond hair.

[Philomel]

She could not see him. Not one bit. Nox, nada, nowt.

Warily she looked around, gritting her teeth still against the harsh pain that the wound gave her. Her eyes danced around, but it seemed that he had flown up somewhere and just gone - gone beyond the edge of air and space, between this arch and the next. Back in her mentality she tried to connect with Veridian again, seeking him out with minor desperation, but he was still closed off. All there was, was an empty void answering back, the feeling of existence and life, but no more.

At least he is alive.

Effortlessly she sighed, and reached down to her belt of fabrics and tugged off another piece of fabric. Still looking around for where the angel had gone after she slighted him with a cloud of angry dust, Philomel tied another bandage around her arm, hoping that would stem the bleeding for now and keep her sane.

The dust had gone up, swift and powerful; her last line of defence. Such a simple magic, yet so powerful in its own way, it had blinded him and given her the oppurtunity to scramble back. Of course, going back had meant looking away, and after she had found her previously abandoned throwing knife and takne it back up, the faun-whore had searched for the boy again. However, he had gone. All into the light or up above the non-existent clouds somewhere. She kept her eyes peeled as she finished off the second knot, but there was still no sign. And she dared not move, for that might provide a moment of air-assault.

Her hands free again she took up the saved throwing dagger and spun it through her fingers. He would be weaker now, maybe irritated. There would be a reason he would hide. Fearing her? She hoped it was so. Too injured? Well, that also gave Philomel an advantage. Taking a breather? That was not so good, but it still provided the Nightingale with a few minutes to plan her dramatic end in this place, whether jumping off the bridge in a beautiful sucide, or stabbing the creature in the back. She was not sure. For now all she could do was keep alert and wait for him to come to her.

And usually it was easy. She opened her mouth and spoke.

"Come out!" she declared, "Or give up, either way you are a coward!"

[Ioder]

Ioder waited for what seemed like an eternity, the possibilities for the faun to finish him was endless. Yet every second he waited anxiously for his death it did not come for him; in retrospect he had only been standing with his guard down for about two minutes. Ioder waited long enough for his eyes to water up and his vision to return to him even if only partially.

Where is she? Ioder pondered as he could start to make out the features of the bridge once again. The grit of the cobblestone and the arch of the towers but with everything becoming clear he could not find Philomel. Had she snuck up behind him? The thought made Ioder twist with quickness but only to be disappointed with the lack of Faun.

Then he heard her cry out to him from the bridge below, seeming to be beyond the next tower or possible the one after that but clearly they both could not see each other. Ioder then decided that it was indeed time to end this contest and with one deliberate step left the tower. Off the edge of the tower he descended letting his wings slowly guide him as he glided.

“Philomel!” Ioder yelled as his feet gracefully meet with the ground. He once again felt the fire of combat burst deep within him and he relished the feeling of one final clash.

[Philomel]

After a thousand turns of the unmoving sun, an orb of white light in this unforgiving sky, Ioder dropped in front of her. His golden wings spanned out behind him and they draped like a cloak, conspiring to keep him the epitome of glory in this hole of a battle. In his hand he still held a blade of grey metal, and in hers still was a simple throwing knife.

Seeing him fall was a relief. Fall from the shadows she could not see, fall from the place where only he could really get to. Her throwing knives could go so far, yes, but her eyes had not looked to see him in the depths of the tower.

Slowly her head shook, her eyes burned with rage. Her hand dropped the throwing dagger and dragged out her main blade.

"Angel or not," she spat, "You are an enemy now!"

And she pushed energy into her hoof as he swung his sword. Bounding, fast and furious, she cut the space between them in twain and met him mid-stride. Slamming down with her mythril blade she pulled out The Lover, her darling keris dagger that was the one who bled veins dry, and went for a two-pronged attack. Ioder was fast, but she was also so. Her hooves were like that of a dancers, and with them she could gain to speeds of a racing ibex. She roared, then roared again as their weapons clashed and were evenly met.

[Ioder]

The faun was quick, but this Ioder already knew. She and he clashed blade to blade one last time, yet Ioder only saw blurs of movement for the Faun. There was truly little that he could do other than swing his best to block against unclear strikes. He took carful steps backward as Philomel swung again and again opting to step aside of the majority of her attacks.

“Good, you truly do wish to end this contest.” Ioder said at the blur that was the faun. How he wished to see her expression to his conceding, he would remember it always but alas he could not. Inside he imagined the satisfaction of this earth bound creature triumphing over a being of the sky, somehow he pictured her with a satisfied grin as she swung at him with both blades of hers.

Each time she swing he stepped back avoiding one blade and repelling the other with his damascus blade. This was a close fight; if he had paid better attention to her early on he would be the one with the advantage. Ioder dropped to the ground quickly and spun quickly with his leg out trying to take Philomel off her feet, but on the land she was the victor leaping over him with ease.

Ioder had lost her; even the purple haired blur was gone. This was it, this was the end. “End it faun, I have been bested.” Ioder said as he waited for a moment in silence, he completely dropping his guard ready for Philomel to end this.

[Philomel]

The wound on her shoulder was still something. It still ached to raise the dagger up past her shoulder, but at least it was present. The Lover and her white blade together cleaved the air, spinning in circles as she tried to gain back the revenge for her lost love. In her mind she tried once more, futilely, to link back and speak to him, yet he was still gone. He was still closed of, he was still distant, a shadow of the conversation she usually had.

Still falling down, down, down into emptiness.

She danced as well as she could. Trained in the most exotic of bars and by the best of choreographers she had learnt to be easy on her feet and keep up her endurance for some length of time. Though she still got tired she had already rested some time, waiting for Ioder to descend. And then, when he had, all he did was clash with her in war, and try to dethrone her from meeting with the ground, but she was gone, dancing. Dancing. Forever dancing.

He was weakening, and she could feel it. In his unhappy expression the faun-whore could spot the lines of discomfort and the disorderly attitude of someone disliking this whole scene. In a moment of closeness he dropped his sword entirely, leaving her an obvious opening, saying something about being "bested". Philomel hardly heard the word. She only saw the weakness.

And into it the Nightingale flew, sharp and precise, flicking out with the Lover. It caught him beneath the chin, and heartlessly she drew it along and up, slicing along the throat. She did not go deep - it was light enough to only nick down to just a few layers of skin; yet blood still rose and the half-angel beast still went pale with pain.

Stepping back Philomel nodded to him, raising the wavy blade to her eyes. Carefully she looked at it, frowning a little, before pocketing the whole thing.

Ioder seemed to have stopped. The blood was running faster now, smoother, more lucious. Easily she could have ended him mercifully, but she wanted to show the fact that she could have restraint. She could control her actions. She could bring life when death was due.

She could make a death last much longer than was fair.

"This ends," she said, turning around. "Ends now. Now tell them to open the door."

[Quentin Boone]

Ioder receives:

792 EXP
99 GP


Philomel receives:

924 EXP
99 GP


Congratulations!

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added.