Xyla’s blade sang, metal crashing against metal with reverberating notes. With no small annoyance, the young elf began to murmur under her breath as she fought, grunting as she whipped around to parry a blow coming at her from behind. Her blade sang, metal crashing against metal with reverberating notes. It is not the Elvish that Amara and the rest of the elves are familiar with, but another dialect—even another language—altogether. “Agi du est’lat. Ising ehl ra oro.”
Sparks and embers fly from the golden light that flaked off her azure blade, spraying lightly with every new clash and note. Gods, she wished that there was something else for her to see besides a sword and a pair of gauntlets. It would’ve probably helped her more easily predict her opponent’s movements.
Keeping her amethyst hues trained on the disembodied hands, Xyla sought to try something else. After parrying another blow with a twirl and flick of her wrist, she suddenly lunged forward a small margin in an attempt to strike the gauntlets with her blade.
Sparks and embers fly from the golden light that flaked off her azure blade, spraying lightly with every new clash and note. Gods, she wished that there was something else for her to see besides a sword and a pair of gauntlets. It would’ve probably helped her more easily predict her opponent’s movements.
Keeping her amethyst hues trained on the disembodied hands, Xyla sought to try something else. After parrying another blow with a twirl and flick of her wrist, she suddenly lunged forward a small margin in an attempt to strike the gauntlets with her blade.
((failed to roll dice, aGaiN))
rolled 1d12 and got 9
Corym's new companion, though neither he nor she is aware of it just yet, looks at him rather incredulously when he voices an interest in the pool of water rather than the dusty piles of gold. It would seem she doesn't exactly share or agree with his priorities. Still, slipping her as yet unthrown throwing dagger back up her sleeve she steps aside, gesturing towards the water in an overly graceful manner, as if inviting him to look his share.
"Sounds like my partner and yours met a similar fate. A pit opened up beneath us not five steps into this Gods forsaken place. It was all I could do to save myself." Remarkably, all of that is actually true. Well, mostly true. She might have been able to reach out and grab the wrist of the foppish noble's son if she'd really tried but there was no guarantee she could have held them both. Strength isn't exactly one of her...strengths. It had been a much smarter idea not to try. Still, it had looked good enough for the judges, she assumed.
"I'm surprised they're letting you compete," she adds after a moment. Apparently Corym has found himself a chatty one. "After all, aren't you a criminal? You really think they're going to hand the Crown of Laurels over to a criminal? Seems more likely to me they're just using this as a round about form of execution..."
The expression on her face as she speaks isn't nasty. It isn't smug. It isn't a lot of things one might expect with those sort of macabre insights. Instead she looks...interested.
"Sounds like my partner and yours met a similar fate. A pit opened up beneath us not five steps into this Gods forsaken place. It was all I could do to save myself." Remarkably, all of that is actually true. Well, mostly true. She might have been able to reach out and grab the wrist of the foppish noble's son if she'd really tried but there was no guarantee she could have held them both. Strength isn't exactly one of her...strengths. It had been a much smarter idea not to try. Still, it had looked good enough for the judges, she assumed.
"I'm surprised they're letting you compete," she adds after a moment. Apparently Corym has found himself a chatty one. "After all, aren't you a criminal? You really think they're going to hand the Crown of Laurels over to a criminal? Seems more likely to me they're just using this as a round about form of execution..."
The expression on her face as she speaks isn't nasty. It isn't smug. It isn't a lot of things one might expect with those sort of macabre insights. Instead she looks...interested.
Her cold hues lowered, weakened by the loss of blood and the paralysis. Her shivering went on until she felt the warmth of Liam take hold of her. His voice comforted her and let her know that she had a friend here and was not entirely surrounded by enemies. When Liam lifted her up and carried her from the launching arrowheads, everything went black again...
A blue light shined on her flesh and woke her. The shivering stopped as the rune sealed her gash and the bleeding seized. Her leg was strong again, but she was unable to get up still. All they could do was wait out the paralysis.
“Liam, your mother should be proud of the Elvatian you have become. You honor me, Elvira and all of us. Saving this old bag’s life.” She grinned and chuckled, faintly, running slender fingers through Liam’s hair.
Indeed all they could do now was wait until the next challenge. She hoped though that the exit was soon to be at hand—then the fairy giggled sweetly.
“Liam can heal! He is so magical!” Rosalind’s eyes twinkled.
“You are still here I see...and unscathed. I thought you would have disappeared.” Gweyr smiled.
“Disappeared?! What does that mean like to die...you wanted me to die?” She teared up.
“No, not that kind of disappear. Never mind...I am actually glad you’re here, Rosalind.” Gweyr confessed.
“Aww, you should know by now you can’t get rid of a fairy that easily.”
A blue light shined on her flesh and woke her. The shivering stopped as the rune sealed her gash and the bleeding seized. Her leg was strong again, but she was unable to get up still. All they could do was wait out the paralysis.
“Liam, your mother should be proud of the Elvatian you have become. You honor me, Elvira and all of us. Saving this old bag’s life.” She grinned and chuckled, faintly, running slender fingers through Liam’s hair.
Indeed all they could do now was wait until the next challenge. She hoped though that the exit was soon to be at hand—then the fairy giggled sweetly.
“Liam can heal! He is so magical!” Rosalind’s eyes twinkled.
“You are still here I see...and unscathed. I thought you would have disappeared.” Gweyr smiled.
“Disappeared?! What does that mean like to die...you wanted me to die?” She teared up.
“No, not that kind of disappear. Never mind...I am actually glad you’re here, Rosalind.” Gweyr confessed.
“Aww, you should know by now you can’t get rid of a fairy that easily.”
Amara watches her invisible opponent get itself thrown off guard, thin eyebrows rising at the sight. The only visible assets it has are the greaves and the leggings it wears, yet they move as if off balance for a moment, stumbling backwards despite a lack of weight. Strange. As seemingly nothing swings the head of its nearly shattered spear around in an arc, rather than the traditional stabbing motion, the tall elf grins a fierce grin behind her mask. That shaft is hers for the shattering.
Swinging her own sword in the opposing direction, the woman meets wood with blade, intent upon ending this little confrontation so that she can move on to the next. Whatever the outcome of this contact may be, however, there is one thing both she and her companion seem to have forgotten. There is still a third opponent denoted by his breastplate and girdle. Even as she works to remove the spear from action, a heavy mace comes crashing down upon her back with enough force to cause Amara to cry out and push her to a knee. She isn't broken by the blow, but she is stunned, the breath forced from her lungs. An easy target for yet another attack.
Swinging her own sword in the opposing direction, the woman meets wood with blade, intent upon ending this little confrontation so that she can move on to the next. Whatever the outcome of this contact may be, however, there is one thing both she and her companion seem to have forgotten. There is still a third opponent denoted by his breastplate and girdle. Even as she works to remove the spear from action, a heavy mace comes crashing down upon her back with enough force to cause Amara to cry out and push her to a knee. She isn't broken by the blow, but she is stunned, the breath forced from her lungs. An easy target for yet another attack.
rolled 1d20 and got 8
For the swing against the shaft of the spear
You are on: Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » For the Crown of Laurels (closed)
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Dragonfire, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus