Flight
They danced, twirling, spinning. She delighted in showing him the miracle of flight. She tucked one wing in, rolling. He was clumsy, but he mimicked her movements, chasing her across the starry night sky. Her love, her mate - he was everything she could have wanted. He worked hard - for her.
Grave
There was no grave for her to spit on, no practical way to display her newly kindled hate. And a large part of her, a traitorous part of her, did not want to. She channeled her rage into strength, throwing herself into her training. For all her hate, he won.
Ominous
She crept through the dim corridor. She did not know where she had come from, nor where she was going. All she knew was a deep sense of dread. She was not a coward; she kept moving forward despite her fear. But it was hard. Her dream trembled in terror.
Vengeance
The orc's axe drew blood, opening a thin gash across her cheek. She was not especially vain, but she took offense to that. She moved with unnatural speed and magically enhanced strength, smashing the greataxe aside and kicking him squarely in the soft bits. He doubled over; she struck again.
Flowers
She ground the delicate petals down, mixing the herbs together into a mushy paste. The herbs were worth their weight in gold, but they were that effective. Already, she had set aside a wealth of liquid magic: healing potions and elixirs to enhance every aspect of herself. It was necessary.
Preparations
She punched, piercing the dummy's "eyes" with the spikes adorning the handguard of her axe. The girl stepped back, panting slightly. Long practice had given her endurance - she could keep going just short of forever. She did need to work on all her talents, though, so she had to stop.
Showing posts with label arena. Show all posts
Showing posts with label arena. Show all posts
Friday, November 14, 2014
Through the Dark Portal
The feel of her axe slashing through flesh, slamming into bone, was intensely satisfying. This was what she was meant for. This was what she had trained for.
She ripped her axe free of the dead orc's skull, lashing out and tearing through another orc's throat.
She wasn't alone out here, by any means - Alliance and Horde alike fought the crushing might of the Iron Horde. But it wasn't like she could hide behind the others, not that she'd want to. She had come to fight, and it was glorious.
A new wave of orcs stormed through the portal. Somehow, she found her efforts had brought her to the front lines, a position that she hadn't intended to occupy. Still, as the strongest warriors of every Azerothian race poured forth to meet this threat, she felt - confident. That was the word.
The orcs largely didn't focus on her, either, at least not at the start. She was small, and she had a trained talent for blending in. She slipped through their ranks unnoticed, ducking a wild mace, and began to wreak havoc.
Her knives had been displayed prominently, not for intimidation, but for easy access. They glowed blue-green as her power freed them from their sheathes. The blades began to dance around her, almost as though they had minds of their own. Blood spattered as sharp points found soft flesh. Her knives fanned out around her, while she herself laid waste to every orc that came before her. Limbs fell, heads rolled, and the orcs suddenly viewed the small half-elf as a threat. This fact, she realized too late.
She drew her blades in close to her body as one particularly large orc turned to face her. He grinned as he smashed his own axe down against her block. Another bone-jarring attack, another - this one was followed with a kick that knocked the wind out of her and sent her flying.
She felt the magic swirl around her as she rolled through the portal.
---
A heavy kick to her side woke her up. She attempted to lash out, tried to fight whatever - whoever - had thought to capture her. Her hands were bound behind her back, so she thrashed, wielding her magic like a club and blasting outward with raw power. She was stunned as her own magic was reflected back at her.
The big orc grinned down at her as she groaned, looking up. She noted absently that her armor had been replaced with rags that barely covered her modesty. One more thing to take out of the orc's flesh, when she was able.
Her orcish was rusty, but she understood him well enough. "You like to fight, little girl? Then you will fight." He threw two crude-looking axes down next to her. "You will fight in the arena," he said, "Until you die."
This was not exactly what she had wanted when she decided to put her skills to use.
---
She killed, and killed again, for the orcs' amusement.
She made a point of not getting to know the other prisoners: she didn't know when she would be forced to fight against them - or worse, when the orcs would just kill them all outright.
The first time they had tried to bleed her, she bit, kicked, clawed, and punched, thrashing until they knocked her out with a swift blow to the back of her skull. The second time, she fought only until they knocked her out with a sweet-smelling herb.
Before they could attempt a third time, something amazingly fortuitous happened: fire broke out, burning the huts around them, and the cage door swung open.
Somehow, she doubted the two events were unrelated.
She ripped her axe free of the dead orc's skull, lashing out and tearing through another orc's throat.
She wasn't alone out here, by any means - Alliance and Horde alike fought the crushing might of the Iron Horde. But it wasn't like she could hide behind the others, not that she'd want to. She had come to fight, and it was glorious.
A new wave of orcs stormed through the portal. Somehow, she found her efforts had brought her to the front lines, a position that she hadn't intended to occupy. Still, as the strongest warriors of every Azerothian race poured forth to meet this threat, she felt - confident. That was the word.
The orcs largely didn't focus on her, either, at least not at the start. She was small, and she had a trained talent for blending in. She slipped through their ranks unnoticed, ducking a wild mace, and began to wreak havoc.
Her knives had been displayed prominently, not for intimidation, but for easy access. They glowed blue-green as her power freed them from their sheathes. The blades began to dance around her, almost as though they had minds of their own. Blood spattered as sharp points found soft flesh. Her knives fanned out around her, while she herself laid waste to every orc that came before her. Limbs fell, heads rolled, and the orcs suddenly viewed the small half-elf as a threat. This fact, she realized too late.
She drew her blades in close to her body as one particularly large orc turned to face her. He grinned as he smashed his own axe down against her block. Another bone-jarring attack, another - this one was followed with a kick that knocked the wind out of her and sent her flying.
She felt the magic swirl around her as she rolled through the portal.
---
A heavy kick to her side woke her up. She attempted to lash out, tried to fight whatever - whoever - had thought to capture her. Her hands were bound behind her back, so she thrashed, wielding her magic like a club and blasting outward with raw power. She was stunned as her own magic was reflected back at her.
The big orc grinned down at her as she groaned, looking up. She noted absently that her armor had been replaced with rags that barely covered her modesty. One more thing to take out of the orc's flesh, when she was able.
Her orcish was rusty, but she understood him well enough. "You like to fight, little girl? Then you will fight." He threw two crude-looking axes down next to her. "You will fight in the arena," he said, "Until you die."
This was not exactly what she had wanted when she decided to put her skills to use.
---
She killed, and killed again, for the orcs' amusement.
She made a point of not getting to know the other prisoners: she didn't know when she would be forced to fight against them - or worse, when the orcs would just kill them all outright.
The first time they had tried to bleed her, she bit, kicked, clawed, and punched, thrashing until they knocked her out with a swift blow to the back of her skull. The second time, she fought only until they knocked her out with a sweet-smelling herb.
Before they could attempt a third time, something amazingly fortuitous happened: fire broke out, burning the huts around them, and the cage door swung open.
Somehow, she doubted the two events were unrelated.
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