Every time she stabbed him, the wound closed over. Blood flowed, and it flowed freely across his skin and down his body, soaking into the bandages that already covered him. In a way, he was far more terrifying that Josh Cronen. Though that man had survived everything she'd thrown at him, it was because he'd dodged it, turned it around and redirected her attacks back at her. This man took everything she gave him and more. Each thrust of the spear made contact and sunk deep into that flesh, but he just wouldn't die. He barely even seemed to feel it!
Deep in the pit of her stomach, she could feel a small swell of panic beginning to form as Amalia rushed forward and jammed itself into the man's open mouth. She felt it go in deep and hit something hard at the back. Some point of bone she didn't want to think about. The feeling of the metal suddenly stopping sickened her.
Did it work? Tell me it worked.
Then hands with a grip like iron grabbed her shoulders. She could feel the fingers digging in to the skin, deep, bruising her. She grimaced and tried to pull away, but couldn't.
With her spear still trapped inside his mouth, Fae twisted it, feeling the point scrap against that bone and cut even more into his flesh. Blood flowed from between his teeth, over his lacerated tongue and down his chin and neck.
Her stomach roiled watching it.
The contents of her breakfast, eaten so long ago, threatened to bubble up to the surface.
The panic set in again.
“What the hell are you?” She asked, green-gold eyes wide.
No, keep it together. He is nothing but a monster.
She couldn't help the mall whimper that escaped her lips as the man, no the thing, continued to move with the spear lodged deep into the back of his head. Shifting, she brought her leg up between them and braced her knee off his stomach, then pivoted her weight off it, brought her second leg up and braced her foot off his chest in an effort to wrench free from him. Just as she applied pressure, multiple flashes of light caught her eye and Fae looked to see dozens of those icy arrows heads coming straight at them.
Oh no!
At first she thought Josh meant to kill them both, then the heads went only for the creature holding her. They ripped through his legs and he roared that terrible sound once more. She cringed, then pushed off him using the enchantment on her boots. His hands were wrenched off her, nail scraping against the material of her jacket, tearing into it and rending some of the flesh beneath.
She grimaced, but ignored the pain.
Landing on the ground in a crouch, she watched as the man from before, the one he'd practically impaled, send some kind of scythe flying right at him before he charged.
What the fuck kind of tournament is this? Don't you people know how to die!?
Not wanting anything to do with these freaks anymore, Faelynn used the distraction from the other two and her enhanced speed to slip away. The two immortal freaks of nature could battle each other for eternity for all she cared, just as long as they left her the fuck alone. She was seriously beginning to realize why Jared had not wanted her in this to begin with and why Seth has not seemed entirely thrilled with her decision either. Perhaps she should have let her redheaded thief talk her out of it. But then again, she knew if he had, she'd only be mad at him and feel left out, or like he thought her weak. No, she'd made her decision and entered into tournament. She had to see it through.
Looking out over the chaos and the fighting still going on, Fae spotted the Drow a couple tables over. She seemed rather badly injured, smoke rose from her body, blackened patches covered that arctic hide of hers and her skin looked raw, red and swollen.
Jumping across the expanse between the tables, Fae ran for the woman, her original opponent. A much safer target in all honesty. At least not one that seemed capable of regenerating herself from practical death. Coming up behind the woman, Fae pushed off the wood, flipped through the air and landed before the Drow in a crouch, her spear out at her side, the tip smeared with the blood of the freaky blonde man.
The Drow moved for something at the small of her back and Faelynn tensed, ready for action. Then she stopped, her hand going to her temples.
“Vith...” She practically hissed the word, her voice sounded pained.
Fae blinked in confusion. Unsure how to continued. The woman wasn't even paying attention to her. “What's wrong with you? Attack me!”
She glared murder down at her, her jaw clenched tight before she spat the words out between grinding teeth. “If I could I would have done so!”
Slowly standing from her crouched position, Fae lowered the tip of her spear to the ground, but kept it out in front of her in case this was some form of trick. “Do you yield then?”
Before she could react, the woman grabbed the shaft of the spear and lifted it, the point dangerously close to the dark skin of her throat.
“Don't you dare let someone else take this from you. Give me a warrior's death...” Then she groaned again, her hands wrapped around her temples, rubbing them, as if to blot out whatever agon had overcome her.
Her stomach revolted once more. Killing someone in battle was one thing. It was the heat of the moment, the adrenaline, the fuel to the fire. But looking this woman in the face and stabbing her through the throat was entirely different. Still, Fae knew what it was like to request a warrior's death. When the water covered her head in the first round and she thought she was going to drown, all she'd prayed for was a quick, clean, death. A warrior's death.
She nodded her head. “All right...”
She couldn't do it to the throat though. That would be too much for her.
Shifting her position, Faelynn brought the tip of her spear point up and levelled it at the woman's chest. The Drow focused hard eyes on her, even through the haze of pain Fae could see therein. When she hesitated, the woman stepped forward, just one little step, the spear point pushed into the hide right above her heart.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Fae pulled back, then quickly thrust Amalia towards the dark skinned warrior before she could change her mind. The spear tip slid through cloth and flesh, nicked off bone and lodged itself somewhere deep in the woman's chest. Blood spurted and flowed from the wound, small droplets splattering against Fae, a dance of red upon her face, hands, arms and chest. The woman's knees buckled, but Fae caught her before she hit the ground and slowly lowered the Drowess to the black and white linoleum floor. The crowd around them hushed as the thief reached up and closed the woman's eyes, her own shining bright with unshed tears.