[T1:MP] Amayle vs <Open>

[Amayle]

I need a lame forum to sharpen my new found skillz. Dystopia seems to fill the slot. Any one up for an ass stomping?

[Zombzeh Nayt-o!]

Not sure 'bout the lame part. It seems like Lew would be the only person here that fits that particular bill. I mean, c'mon. It took the Jew several weeks to notice that a member was female, when she'd said it at least a dozen times. Also, calling someone a "lame Jew" just sounds fantastic.

Nonetheless, I'm pretty sure someone here would be willing to give you a good an' hard spanking. An RPer going by the name "Titan" is open for a match, if I remember correctly. I'd fondle your g-spot for you, but I'm already in fourteen fuckin' threads as it is.

In any case--'sup, nga?

[Titan]

I'm down for this. Or up. Maybe even sideways. Either PM me to edit this for an opening battle post or you start it up by your lonesome.

[Amayle]

Earthquakes, fires, and winds - oh my! How would one find themselves in such a world of chaos? Twas not anything below the most tragic of events; the wind took nearly all in it's grasp and tossed it aside; people screamed as the earth tore and shook, comparable to a bull bucking a rider, yet no one discerned the cries; the great crackling of fire incinerated what was left, the sounds of Hell sought higher than outstretched hands to the heavens above.

Yet amongst all of the carnage, there was a small child who did not falter to the devils wrath. It was said by those who investigated the scene later that a ray of light shined down upon her. "Nature was looking after her," they said, losing their faith in God because of such events, "May her luck continue through the rest of her days."

Her comprehension was not blinded by age, for she saw and understood what truly happened on that fateful day. The day her parents and friends were taken from her. The day all that she recognized became erased in a violent struggle against one. She swore to herself she would fight hard from that moment forward, ensuring that no one else would ever experience the same horrors she had. What a road her promise took her: A journey involving moments far too extensive and numerous to list, but they hardened her into what she was today -- a warrior.

. . .

There was a great deal of commotion about...something. The buzzing produced by countless voices echoing within each other made it difficult to assume what exactly, but she caught various words such as "Tournament" and "Fighting Competition" somewhere in the mix. She tried to ignore it, talking to her friends about other things, such as which boy they thought was the cutest in school, but soon even her peers fell into the bandwagon.

"Hey, Amayle, why don't you enter the bracket?"

Turning to her right, she saw the eyes of Mary gazing intently at her.

"It's...dumb. Why risk getting hurt without worthy cause?"

"I dunno. Maybe prove that we gals can beat people up too?"

"Girls beat up guys all the time. It's called marriage, Mary."

She laughed with her friends, whose cheerful giggles slowly faded as they thought to themselves about marriage. Suddenly, though, she sat up from her seat at the table, and started sprinting through town towards the exit gates.

"Sorry, guys, I gotta go! I'm late for a date!"

As she raced across a beaten dirt path well outside of town, she was thinking of her hypocrisy.

God...what am I doing. Running off to fight someone I never met and I tell my friends that doing something like that is stupid...I need a life.

Such was the contradictions of a teenage girl who tried to fight for what she believed in. Sometimes, though, as was the case as she raced to the location of her fight (Which is to the discretion of the opponent), her choices and actions made little sense.

[Titan]

Another day; another fight. Conflict was a way of life for some. There was an instinctual desire to seek out others solely for the sake of confrontation. No reason was needed other than the glory of battle, pitting fist-against-fist, weapon-against-weapon, spell-against-spell to see whom would emerge victorious. On a day like this where the thunder clouds were beginning to roll in, a bout between two like persons was imminent. I had the fortune of arriving before my foe, granting me the time to rest and pre-meditate on the upcoming struggle. The more I focused on separating my normal life from that of my battle-ready nature, the more quickly I could perform such a splitting of paths. For one like myself, this was crucial.

The scattered trees could provide some shelter from the soon-to-be storm though not all was shielded by thick branches above. Surely the winds that threatened to blow would snap a great many of the twigs and send them lashing out at any nearby. On my feet would I be once the sound of pounding footsteps reach my ears, though for the moment, my back would be turned to the girl I was to oppose. Hands were lax, ready to grasp either the whip from my left side or the few daggers across my right. Even standing though I was I left my eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the growing breeze that came at my back, better carrying forth the sounds originating behind me.

Now was the time, for Mortal Kombat.

[Amayle]

"You'd...think...I'd...pick...opponents...closer...to...home...but...no..."

Amayle desperately panted between breaths as her sprint finally came to an end. Not even halfway to her destination, yet several miles away from home, she laid with the grass and gazed at the sky above. The sun wasn't out today, instead, various shades of gray covered the vast sky.

I hope it doesn't rain at the fight. That'd blow.

As her breath finally recovered, she flipped herself back to a standing position and sighed.

"He'll probably be gone by the time I get there at this rate. Looks like I'll have to use Luna. "

She took her right forearm, just below the wrist, and held it tightly with her left hand. Opening her fingers widely, her right palm faced the sky as the wind around her elevated wildly. Slowly but surely, streaks of pink and purple swirled about her being and made their way into a sphere that levitated above her hand. She released the grip on her forearm and brought both of her hands together, linking fingers around the fragile ball. Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together, causing the magical light to pour out between the cracks of her fingers and cover her entire body in a bright fuchsia. When the light faded out, Amayle found herself upon the back of a beautiful unicorn. [1]

Smiling, she petted the top of Luna's head, and soon after the mythical horse took off in the distance with blinding speed.

. . .

"Sorry I'm late!" she called, poking her head out from some branches in order to get a better look at her opponent. "I hope I didn't make you mad or anything. I sort of forgot about this until the last minute." Stepping from outside of the trees, she positioned her body to square up with the opponents, some 8 or so meters away.

She was without Luna now, (sometime before entering the localized region that the opponent was in, Amayle reabsorbed the makings of her unicorn) determined to make it look like she made the journey honestly. The first thing her opponent would realize, besides the fact that she's a girl, would be her urban attire. For casual appearances, she chose to wear denim jeans and adorable black shoes with pink laces. Her upper body, covered in little more than a t-shirt, displayed a series of kittens on a white background. She had little time to change before leaving, so that was how she presented herself currently.

"Excuse me while I change!" She had little regard for whatever the opponent might have to say, or his reaction to such a blunt statement, if any. A brilliant flash of pink and purple shined around her again, and when it faded, she was in a black robe outlined with velvet that mimicked the style of a mage. Indeed, that was her calling, that was her lineage, and so she honored traditions with appropriate combat attire, albeit a "slight" color difference. [2]

"Let's get started, shall we?" Amayle bowed her head as flocks of long brown hair covered her green eyes and pretty face. She quickly shifted into an attentive stance, although it seemed her positioning was more dance-oriented than combative.




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[1] Pseudo Summon: The ability to mold one's magic into another creature that's capable of following basic orders.
[2] Shifting Attire: The ability to alter clothing with magic; however, there are mild restrictions such as both items must be equivalent in mass, and etc.

[Titan]

"There she is." It had taken her longer to arrive than I'd expected, though such delay only worked to my benefit. It allowed me to further reflect upon myself and focus my mind, preparing for the battle which may indeed leave my hands stained with blood. The hands of my combat aspect. When I retruned to my mindset of normality, my conscience would be freed of such deeds. At least this is what mother had told me of Ihnyoh; a means of keeping separate our peaceful and aggressive natures to not become tainted by war. To not become caught in the Path as the Exarchs were. I practiced this concept more out of a love and respect for my own people, much in this way this woman wore the battlements of her own kind. I could hear the muffled fluttering of her robes as carried by the air to my pointed ears.

Bare-footed, torso uncovered, I wore nothing but black denim and the belt which held my utilities. Maybe not the best choice of apparel considering the unstoppable storm that was dawning above us, but I was lucky to be graced with a greater resistance to the elements than the fragile Mon'Keigh. In a single movement I'd turned to face this woman who's name I knew not yet was destined to face in the art of conflict. My eyes remained closed though, so my directness in having turned might catch her unaware. Maybe thrown off enough to not have noticed the blade aimed at her belly until it was too late. Indeed, with such grace and skill I'd unsheathed and accurately discarded one of my three knives her way.

Aggressive, true, but as an Eldarin warrior I was not prone to conversing much with my enemy as I was to put them down as quickly as possible. Her words fell not on deaf ears though. I heard and acknowledged all, especially this, "Let's get started, shall we?"
"Yes, we shall."

[Amayle]

"Woo!" She said, the way in which she expressed the word managing to harmonize perfectly with her twirling motion, which brought her out of the path of the approaching blade quite quickly. As she spun, wisps of pink swirled around her like ribbons, one of which managed to caress the blade as it passed. 'Less something prevented it, contact between the two would result in the knife transforming into a rather large flower that would land on the ground behind her. [1], [2]

Time to get serious.

The battle had commenced, so her childish antics would have to end, otherwise it would surely mark her defeat. The transition was easy, however, since she'd be training with her mom since she was an infant. Then when.... later on, she acquired lessons from family friends, which proved to be equally effective. On the outside, she was just a girl, but there was a warrior's spirit within, and that was what the opponent would have to deal with.

The ribbons of pink were accompanied by ribbons of purple, and there was a diagonal, linear series of points where the two intersected. It was at these intersections that a solid object manifested, which could clearly be identified as a staff. After the staff was grasped tightly in Amayle's hands, the pattern of interaction dissipated, and the series of ribbons resumed flowing wildly like an aura. [3], [4]

With this she waited.

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[1] Pink Ribbon Aura: A half-powered version of Amayle's aura. The way it acts resembles a series of ribbons swirling around her.
[2] Shifting Weapons: The ability to alter simple weapons such as a knife, a sword, a chain, and etc, into something else with equal mass.
[3] Purple Ribbon Aura: A half powered version of Amayle's aura. The way it acts resembles a series of ribbons swirling around her. (When both aura's are up simultaneously, it forms an aura stronger than either one alone. The actual power of the aura is variable dependent, considering things such as physical and emotional state, and etc.)
[4] Mage's Staff: Formed by the very prowess of the user, this staff utilizes ambient energy to amplify the spell-casting ability of the wielder. It's rumored to be unbreakable by most physical means due to it's mythical composition.

[Titan]

"That was my fault." Her magicks set to work on the thrown weapon of mine, turning the pristine wraithbone construct into a harmless flower; a fact that irritated me, if only slightly. I would have to be more careful and put focus into the blades so as to establish and maintain a link between myself and the psycho-reactive material. Perhaps this would allow me to prevent her manipulation. Either way, though, with the hand now free it snatched from my left hip my whip of vines. Simultaneously I dashed forth to cut the distance between the two of us, allowing my new weapon the reach it needed. As easily as I'd grabbed it so too did I send it lashing out, though not at her. Instead my intention was to entangle the staff she had given substance to and attempt to jerk it from her hands.

The momentum of my jump would grant me impressive force to oppose the ground with and ensure I would be hard-pressed to move from my new position. Either the two of us would become locked in a stalemate tug-of-war or her weapon, maybe even she as well, would be forced in my direction. Even while I commited to this act I began a sub-conscious bond to my rightheld knife. The effects of this psionic interaction would be the gradual development of a cerulean blue-hued aura around the edged portion.

[Amayle]

"In combat, there is always the chance of something to occur that you are not prepared for. Therefore, you should try your best to ensure some sort of a back up plan."
"You mean something they're not prepared for."
"Exactly. Now, take stance, it's time to go over weapon defenses again!"

Sadly, whips are used less commonly than various other weapons, and thus, her training didn't cover them on this day - or any other thus far.

Another excerpt of Amayle's past:

"What should I do, Xavier, if I encounter something I'm not ready for?"
"One that is trained to kill a bear surely would have no problems with a dog."
"And if the ability of the unforeseen surpasses the 'bear'?"
"There are two kinds of ability. Physical, and mental. This is something you already know - you're just not thinking. If one is greater than you physically, which, due to who you are, may be the case more often than not, then rely on your wits. If they're truly greater than you...even fools get lucky; why not us, why not you?"

She nodded and went back to training, repetitiously forming spell circles and shifting their patterns.

. . .

She always tried her best to follow her teachings, which, in some aspects, came quite easily: it was more muscle memory and acquired reflex than anything at this point. Although she hadn't combated against a whip before, she was experienced enough to improvise a solid game plan to fight it.

Her reactions were quick and precise, yet they involved almost no movement what-so-ever. Instead of taking time to attempt an avoidance of some sort, moving one weapon out of the path of another, she used this time to focus. As soon as the whip surrounded her staff, a rapid stream of magic would shoot down the path of the whip, circling around it with alarming speed. Presently, it was harmless, but as it would contact the opponent it would transform into a nasty blast of electricity. [1]

As these events were beginning to unfold, it seemed that the flower Amayle created was rooting itself into the ground. Would the opponent realize this in the midst of combat? [2]

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[1] Delayed Mana Shock (2): A steam of mana that assumes the role of electricity and mimics it's physical effects. Since it was fired from the Mage's Staff, the power of it is doubled. The phrase "delayed" in the name is due to a period of time between the attack being fired and the true nature of the attack being revealed.
[2] Flower Power: As instructed to always do, Amayle is forming a backup plan should she be unable to win the fight directly. The flower will gradually leech into one of Earth's leylines and draw considerable power for later use.

[Titan]

Electricity, one of the Eldar's most widely used powers when dealing in psionic attacks. Like Amayle Tanis wasn't trained in the use of such a skill, though he possessed an inherent bond with it. No doubt, a very odd event would occur the moment that magicka lashed out at the Eldarin fighter in the form of electric force.

A surge began to course through me, teasing at my flesh with its integrated heat and surging across my pale flesh. The deep brown of my eyes flared into a brilliant blue that surpassed even the ignition of power across my dagger. The soft brown of my hair would take on traces of silver. Throwing out that hand as if to stab her with my blade the might she directed at me would take an unexpected turn. From the glimmering tip of the knife would the volts lance out in a spreading wave of shock. It was a bit straining on me though, detracting from the accumulated build-up in my weapon to better focus the attack. Not only would the girl find herself on the recieving end of the strike but the ground too would become littered with small, smoking craters. Perhaps even the growing flower would succumb to an incinerating death. Once the charge was released residual heat wafted from my body in smoking lines, a soft hint of red spreading across my visible flesh.

Without delay though I brought down my right hand to smash upon the tense length of my whip, trying once more to jar the girl with the captured staff from her place.