Time to Execute

[Blodwen]

Closed to Leoric

Like a wave of sunset her crimson hair flew out behind her in a myriad of directions. The wind was so howling mad that it gave her locks a life of their own, curling and whipping with the moments. As she faced the gale her face remained a picture of stocism and her eyes narrowed determiners of fate.

Standing there, strong and proud, Blodwen Dem'Satyros, truly and postively insane through inbreeding, faced the storm and whatever would come out of it. Behind her thunder crashed and lightening struck a lone and helpless tree again and again. Overhead black clouds formed a wall of seemingly impenetrable mass, threatening rain but not yet bringing it. All around her was a desolate wasteland, with only a few boulders for that small amount of coverage and a narrow lodge, about fifty metres in the distance. And only one tree. And only one satyr. Who had been standing there now for over an hour.

Impatiently, she cocked the hammer of her Aleraran decades-old gun, setting the first bullet around to the barrel. Of course there could be a chance of it being one of the blocked chambers of the six-round cylinder, but Blodwen was clever. She had loaded it up so that the first two chambers were empty. Therefore she pulled down on the trigger, pointing the end into empty space.

Flint was lit. Something moved. Nanoseconds passed.

Bang. It resounded. She pulled back the hammer again, reloading it and ... Bang! empty shot again.

In her right hand the gun was placed, whereas in the other was a brass knuckle-duster, perfectly shaped to her palm. As the wordless young woman, barely looking thirteen today in this wild weather, set the hammer once more, ready this time to release a bullet, she wrinkled her nose, and imagined her father and her cat. Bored and Boreder she called them, two of the most bored-looking people on the planet, yet the only two she loved. Loved enough to leave for themselves as she bid an attempt at glory.

[Leoric]

Leoric was down right Giddy today. He had finally managed to get back to radasanth after months of being away. his last round in the citadel was against a certain Zack Blaze that ended in what he said was a tie. The Brawler closed his eyes as the bright light that emanated from the Citadel door encompassed his vision. When the light faded he was in the middle of a desolate wasteland. The wind was sharp and blew furiously around Leoric. Dark clouds covered the sky in a depressing haze of misery as lightning struck the only plant life in the area.

The Bar Brawler looked around the arena he had been placed into as he realized he wasn't alone. The Silhouette of his opponent was rather odd, he was not exactly sure what to make of it. One thing was for certain though, they had both come to the Citadel for a reason today. Friend or Foe, Child or Elder, Woman or She-Beast, Leoric was going to bring the beat down. Leoric knew he would of been spotted and so didn't even attempt to hide. Then again he really wasn't one for hiding anyway. Beginning his slow saunter towards his opponent he unsheathed his sword and threw it into the ground point first. The lightning in the area would make swinging any form of metal dangerous. Leoric smirked as he took out his leather gloves and slowly put them on. The iron covering his knuckles clanked as they fill into position. Hopefully his opponent liked getting their face beat in cause that was exactly what he was going to do.

Lightning creased the sky almost as if telling Leoric to go for it. The moment the thunder boomed over the landscape he was off like a light. Leoric was moving as fast as he could towards his opponent.

"Let's see how long you can last!" he boomed as his fist lined up for a perfect uppercut.

[Blodwen]

She saw him clearly, for he did not come in disguise. The dusty plain gave him no covering as he stepped from the thin air that was the doorway, and a bright spark of lightening lit him up bold and brilliant for one major moment. Blodwen's eyes took in the black hair, the rugged features, the tall and strong build, steadily before the brightness faded and she was left once more to rely on what little sunlight was available.

Run. He was running. And at an impressive speed. In a brief moment he rid himself of his sword, leaving that to the ground, and moved to race towards her. The satyr saw no weapons, save his normal hands and feet, and for a moment she wondered what he was even going to do. As his feet took him towards her, Blodwen found herself retaliating with the same timing, rocking back on her hoof as he charged forwards. Of course she saw it coming, because it was so clear. The way his arm swung back before he let the fist loose, the subtle change in his stance and the way he tugged on the hem of his gloves. Those flying fists were not of any meagre damage - they were about as powerful as hers.

Blodwen moved back as the assailant said no words and just threw himself into the fray, ignoring all pleasantries and simply rocking in for a shoulder to punch. To break. To shatter.

Silently she dodged the fast-paced throw with as much speed as he himself mustered, then she raised her left hand and aimed the same thing to him in reply. The brass knuckle duster flew up to meet his chin with a cold metal kiss, just in the same way as he longed. In her right hand her gun was still present and perfect cocked, ready to fire once more, but the satyr did not shoot, just yet.

First of all she wanted to see if this bro-hoof landed, and if, in any way, they could turn this into a boxing match. Or perhaps a dance.

[Leoric]

At least his opponent wasn't completely inept in hand to hand combat. She saw it coming and nimbly dodged out of the way as a counter punch was thrown, in the same manner as his. He suddenly saw the features of what exactly he was fighting. the silhouette from earlier did look off but not this off. She matched everything he knew about satyr's but was somehow different. She looked young and it caused him to hesitate just long enough to take the Duster hit straight to his chin. Alarm bells sounded in his head as blood began pouring into his mouth. Leoric stumbled back and collapsed to a knee a few paces back, spitting up blood.

Lightning spat across the sky and lit up the arena as Leoric was on his knee's in front of a she-beast. he never thought he would be quite in this predicament. He was coughing up blood and grasping onto his chin. She had a mean left hook that matched his right hook. Not to mention she seemed to be just as fast as him. no she was a just a tad faster. It didn't matter to Leoric if she was just as strong or just as fast. In the end he had the Quaking Palm ability which was more then enough to sway the fight in his favor.

"Well, you at least have a mean left hook. Name's Leoric, what do you say to a friendly slobber knocker" He spat out a crimson glob of blood on the ground and stood up, grasping his right fist with his left and licking his lips maliciously. he was looking forward to this.

[Blodwen]

Whumph.

Oh by glorious Drys she loved that sound. As she dodged his wrenching blow, then responded with her own part of her mind moved immortal cogs and clicked into realisation that she liked this fighter. He used his fists like hers. He had speed like hers. And he took a hit like a bold satyr warrior, grinning through his bloody gums.

He knelt. Glanced by the blow. The clear opportunity was there - to hit him again and break his jaw - but that would be impolite. Or, rather, more to Blodwen's morals, it would just be plain boring. There was more to life, after all, than just beating a man wordlessly and then leaving him without making a point. If she could use her cunning words and her wit before knocking him unconcious, then by all means, she would do it.

Therefore she held back, and did not swing once more for the nose, or chin, or any other weak point. Instead she hummed a tune quietly to herself of only a few bars, and she imagined playing the maracas to go along with it.

Then ...

"Name's Leoric. What do you say to a friendly slobby locket?"

She blinked. And all want to hit him again was gone. In any rate he was still close range and at a point where her aged pistol would actually do some damage.

Amusement shot into her system. Slowly she took a step back to better look at the injured man beneath her, and tilted her head.

"So," she said, "You do talk then."

[Leoric]

"Just enough to be pleasant. Not enough to be boring" Leoric smirked as he spat out another Globule of Crimson. "Now let's get back to what we were doing, we both came here for a reason."

Leoric looked intently at her as his body protested the thoughts in his mind. That hit would of floored any normal man, but Leoric wasn't exactly normal. He kicked off the ground and sprang forward, Like a coiled up viper striking at his prey. Leoric quickly forced some magical energy into his hand as he got ready to quaking palm strike his opponent. he wanted to see just how solid she was. She already knew he could take a hit. Could she, herself, take a hit in return? Or was she just a glass cannon? Leoric planned to find out with a single Quaking Palm strike aimed at her chest.

Thunder rolled over the arena as lightning struck a rock behind Leoric. Causing smoke and debris to rain up behind him and scatter across the arena.

[Blodwen]

The man, apparently, was terribly rude.

He had spoken, finally, and told her his name. Leor-kitten or some other such silly title. And she had paused, and opened the floor to minor conversation before resuming the trial, yet apparently he had not the patience to even ask her name. That would have been polite. She, at least, had been reasonable enough not to insult him with a second blow, why should he follow through with irritating restlessness.

"Right, yep, lets continue fighting," Blodwen heard him say.

Words. Words before the punch of an oncoming, deadly, hailstorm.

The words made her realise something was occurring, and thus she took a small step back, enough, or so she thought, to dodge. Yet, however, his gloved fist rose, and it flew through the air in the unmistakable similar form to a bullet. Swing. It swung. Accurate to the extent of endorsing fear, and then by some unproclaimed magic it literally passed through the inches that should have saved her from the might of it, and smacked her right, square in the right breast.

Three, four feet. She flew back, right back onto her arse and fell back into the ground as a light struck behind her assailant. She winced, both from the brilliance and from the pain of her unprotected bosom, in the place that would undoubtedly become a large bruised area.

She shook. And she swallowed a scream to resort to a grunt.

"Well that was not polite."

[Leoric]

"Well I never claimed to be Polite, just pleasant." Leoric stood up right as he spat on the ground in front of him. "Besides, we both came here for a fight. so why hesitate and be polite?"

Leoric sighed a deep breath and slid his left foot slightly back and turned it to the side. he was going to attempt fighting like his Master. Something he had never tried before, but he had studied it all too much when he was but a student.

He smirked when he remembered just how Fluid his master was. it was almost as if his limbs, and his body, were made of water. The strikes were hard and true. Almost un-blockable by Leoric's standard way, his fist.

"Well then I guess you want to tell me your name if you think I was rude?" Leoric brought both hands up in front of him, preparing a defence."You won't be getting any more hits in by the way. I am not in the business of trading blows."

The wind died down to a mere whisper as a chill filled the environment. Within seconds it had started to rain. Leoric cleared his throat and spat out a phlegm filled crimson glob to his left. His eyes burning into the skull of his opponent.

[Blodwen]

The man spat, still suffering from the blow by her knuckle duster. Whilst he took the time out to talk, Blodwen heaved herself back to her feet, using her speed to make it seem as if she had always been that way. Naturally, she was still in pain, and if her brawling opponent looked closely, or had eyes of careful perceiving he would see that she angled slightly to the side, where the punch had hit her breast. She dared not to cradle it, 'less she show a sign of weakness, but by Drys she could not help the fact she was now weaker there, and thus her body limped dully to that way.

"You won't be getting any more hits by the way," the man claimed, "I am not in the business of trading blows."

Readiness filled her, and the satyr took the step back closer to him, her hands raised once more. As the man called Leoric turned to spit again she let out a snigger, and quickly flipped around her gun so that the barrel was in her hand, and the butt of it was angled out the top in the form of a club. As he continued his method of just standing there, waiting for her, she moved, eager to finish this as much as he did.

Her hoof under her injured side limped, but then her other slammed down to the ground, hard. With the power executed through the soil, the satyr was sent into the air, suddenly sailing two metres upwards. Rain broke out suddenly, swiftly, vehemently in torrents as she did so, so her hair was no longer a wave of sunlight, and by the time she was descending there were beaded droplets on her forehead. Unannounced she came down directly above the man, moving her arm up and over as she did so, and so her pistol butt-end was fashioned into a club to come pounding down on his skull.