Battle BE: Mari Valieri vs. Gwendalin the Brave

[Hippopotamus]

Round 4: Battle BE

Mari Valieri
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Gwendalin
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The Arena: The Ruins

(the text is clickable)

​

@Erica and @Musician


(These are the only two people who are able to post here, and all other posts will be deleted.)


"Mari Valieri and Gwendalin the Brave, your time for preparation is over."


The voice boomed throughout the stadium, forcing every seat within the arena to stand in uproar, crying for the fight to start and the brutality to begin.


"Mari! Gwendalin! Report to the arena and accept your fates in a battle to the bitter end!"


"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

 

[Chordling]

A strong sense of confidence had bathed the red haired woman as she stepped out of the frozen tundra once more, a victor. She let a wide smile grow over her lips as fans and fellow contestants cheered and screamed, and she took brief pauses to show off the blade and shield that aided her during her fight. Though the last contest had not been much of a battle, she still felt her weapons and armor deserved credit. In a sense, Gwendalin felt like she was also honoring her father. Had it not been for his superior craftsmanship, she would never had possessed the tools she waved before the crowd she did now.


Set on the far wall of the arena was a digital display of the tournament standings. Gwendalin walked over and glanced up the wall to read the list of names. Her amber eyes searched through the list until she found the standings for the fourth round, then settled when they caught a glimpse of Gwendalin's name. Her expression seemed to deepen as she spotted the name of her potential opponent. Mari Valieri. She had overheard other contestants speak her name around the arena. By this time in the contest it would be easy to assume that one would have met just about every other contestant, though this was not the case for the young warrior. She had never been the one to strike a conversation than a sword, unless a truly crucial matter desperately relied on her horribly exercised social skills, so she gathered most of her information through trickling rumors.


From what Gwendalin could understand, Mari was a woman about her age, and was a standing opponent from the very beginning of the tournament. She was supposedly skilled in combat, much like Gwendalin had been, but the red haired warrior failed to learn Mari's weapon of choice. Before she knew it, the loud announcement rang through the halls of the arena, and Gwendalin had been summoned towards the large crowd of people once more.


Perhaps she had become more aware of her followers, but it almost felt like the crowd had become more energetic. She could practically feel their excitement flow straight through her metal armor. By now Gwendalin had developed a small routine as she stood in front of the broad set of doors before entering the terrain. She quickly inspected her gear and eagerly awaited for the announcement to begin their match.


It turned out that the arena had been neither tundra or forest. Instead, Gwendalin was greeted by towering, ancient ruins seemingly made of brick or other strong stone. Various types of vegetation climbed along the sides of the deteriorating architecture, even curving outward as if to outline the building's true structure in its youth, and decorated the walls with tiny, white blossoms. The young warrior slowly turned her head about as she examined her new environment as soft, tapping noises echoed from the the flat of her metal boots. All else had been silent except for the rushing water from the petite river as it cascaded down into a larger body of water. It was a truly admirable place, at least for Gwendalin. She always marveled at old, historical sites, and it fascinated her even more when she learned their hidden secrets. Unfortunately, time did now allow the young woman for any site seeing. There were other matters that needed to be addressed.


Gwendalin took quick strides across the terrain as she began to look for her opponent. Though she seemed to hold a sense of confidence before she set foot onto the battle grounds, her quick movements had also been cautious. It seemed odd, but Gwendalin felt like there had been certain expectations for their current match. Had rumors about her refined skills with sword combat filtered their way through the mass of participants as well? Was there something she should fear about this Mari Valieri? Gwendalin turned her head around every angle, still in search of her opponent. They must have been doing a poor job of finding one another, that, or her challenger had been exceptionally good at hiding.


The time that had passed without sighting a single trace seemed longer than past battles. Had they increased the size of the arena in some manner? That would make reasonable sense for the extended amount of time it took for Gwendalin to finally spy the other woman in the distance. Mari appeared slightly younger than Gwendalin herself, and leaner in build. Gwendalin's amber eyes locked on Mari's figure while her feet seized in their tracks, and the rest of her body naturally pushed itself into a battle stance. Though they could not hear them, Gwendalin could sense the audience's excitement grow as the two warriors stood somewhere within the arena, eager for bloodshed.

 

[Erica]

Spoiler

"The gods may be with you, Mari, but do not forget they can be fickle." Draven flashed a thin smile at his younger sister, amused but still concerned. "Do not count on their continued grace. Taking Them for granted is a sure way to earn their annoyance, or at best, their apathy."


"So you do believe They favor me!" Mari teased, nudging her brother's shoulder. The cold hallways of the tournament grounds were familiar now, as was the sight of so many diverse people.


He rolled his eyes. "That is what you heard?" He motioned toward the boards that displayed the tournament standings and the list of new contestants. "The fights will get more difficult, not less. You're up against another woman warrior, from what I've heard. And as you pointed out early on - girls can be crueler in a fight."


Mari's dark brown eyes scanned the lists, seeking out the name of her opponent. Gwendalin. It didn't seem like an imposing name, unto itself. Then again, real warriors did not need to embellish their prowess with titles or boasts. Her smile dimmed minutely before returning to its former brilliance. "I welcome it. These matches where no actual battle occurs might be safer, but they are vicious on my nerves."


Draven wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he guided her toward the doorway to her match. "You have had less time to rest between matches, but so did she. Use your terrain, do not hesitate to use your magic if necessary, and in the name of the gods, please do not stand out in the open waiting for a handshake."


The petite archer paused beside the door that would lead into the arena, looked at her brother, and smiled. "I will win this my way, or not at all," she said before giving him a hug.


He hesitated only briefly before hugging her in return as he chuckled under his breath. Only once she was through the door did he mutter under his breath as he headed for the stands to watch the match, "Grant her the favor she so fervently believes in. Or, if that it too great a blessing, then may they have good healers on hand."


Despite her boastful exchange with her brother, Mari had said a prayer outside the doors humbly requesting guidance and fortune. She had also drawn an arrow, keeping it ready at her right side as she entered the arena for her fourth match.


Half expecting the same grassy field as her last two matches, Mari was surprised at the damp air that greeted her. This was a place once sacred, or perhaps one only made to seem so by the passage of time. Trees and moss held dominion over the stone here and filtered light have the entire place a surreal quality.


Draven was right. The matches would get more difficult as she progressed. Part of her wanted to heed his advice. She should seek cover, strike from a hidden position while she could. Other contestants had apparently followed this approach with mixed success.No rule prevented her opponent from doing the same, although she might gauge her opponent's actions by the reaction of the crowd. She heard nothing of her opponent at first: only the sound of running water and the crowd's standard cheering greeted her as she quietly made her way inside. So far, they seemed content with their steady call for a fight - any fight - and no sudden noise nor stillness of held breath implied anything other than the standard start of a match.


Only her opponent was not readily apparent. Was this Gwendalin hesitant or clever? Or perhaps the arena held more secrets than in the past few matches. In any case, Mari kept her eyes open, scanning the area for any sign of the woman she would fight. It came, eventually, in the glint of light off of the woman's armor. Mari took a breath, wondering if she would repeat the battle with Azazel, and if so, to what success. The sight of the woman's strawberry blond hair made Mari smile. Her own hair was much darker but kissed with red as well. They were two sides to the same coin, perhaps, and under better circumstances might have discussed the merits of ranged weapons over blades.


Ranged weapons being superior, of course.


The thought brought a smile to her lips as she stood in plain view with her bow in hand, arrow held by her left hand. She bowed her head before calling out, "Well met! I am Mari... but you already know that, I suppose." Humor infected her tone, tinged perhaps slightly by the racing of her heart in anticipation of the fight to come.

 

[Chordling]

There was no question, this other woman was a skilled archer. Gwendalin may not have been a user of the weapon herself, but she had fought with plenty of them in the past to separate the good and the bad. Unlike the previous battles, Mari actually seemed normal. Not some epic shape shifter, or one eyed child, but someone who might have come from a land just like Gwendalin.


She simply grimaced at Mari's weak introduction, and gave no further reply. Gwendalin was not going to give away any information about herself, not to someone who could potentially slay her. It was a tactic her general strongly emphasized to new warriors when they joined the militia. The more you knew about your enemy, the worse off they were. For now it seemed that Gwendalin was at her advantage, though this was given the small percentage that Mari did not review the tournament standings. Gwendalin was never the one to participate in conversations, so this strategy was naturally learned.


The distance between them mocked Gwendalin as she stared at the long range warrior. Her sword would only aid her in close combat, and right now it didn't seem like they were in any kind of combat. Zero for two. Gwendalin knew the first thing she need to do was close the distance between them, just close enough to scrape her blade against Mari's precious flesh; to have her enemy taste the true power of a blade. She trusted her shield would protect her from any harm the archer's arrows could bring her, yet she was uncertain to move from her position. A single action could trigger the archer's attack. Gwendalin knew Mari was good, she just didn't know how good.


The excitement that came to the crowd suddenly turned to frustration when it seemed that Gwendalin was taking too long to make a decision. Before anymore time could pass, Gwendalin allowed her rash emotions to overcome her, and she sprinted toward her opponent with a powerful battle cry while she held her shield before her for protection. Arrows may have hit the surface of the strong metal, but it was hard to hear the soft pings over her raging voice. Eventually the space between them had decreased to a desirable size, and Gwendalin raised her blade as she leaped into the air, anticipating the moment it would smash against Mari's unprotected skull.

 

[Erica]

Silence fell after her admitedly weak introduction. Clearly a warrior, the other woman did not respond for one heartbeat, then two. By the third, Mari started to wonder if her opponent did not speak the common tongue. Yet she and Azazel had conversed easily even though they obviously came from different worlds. Afterwards, Mari had wondered about that and assumed the tournament organizers had implemented some sort of magic to allow people to understand each other regardless of their native tongues. Now she started to wonder. Was it broken? No, the other woman's mouth was not moving.


Before she could consider it any further, she saw something subtly shift in her opponent's posture. Long arguments with her brother about whether it was better to watch a sparring partner's eyes or their hips became suddenly moot. Azazel had attacked openly, but he was relatively slow due to his heavy armor. This woman was not so encumbered.


With a gutteral yell that effectively made Mari twitch in surprise, the swordswoman ran straight at her. Fast.


Mari raised her bow, foregoing a shot aimed at the head for something more civil. Her first and second arrows bounced off the woman's shield. Like with Azazel, she would have preferred to test out the effect of her arrows on both armor and shield, not going for a fatal shot at first. Too late, she realized her opponent did not share her prefernce for non-lethal combat.


As she reached for her third arrow, the swordswoman leapt into the air, her sword shining in the light before it descended, aimed directly at her head. The crowd cheered, expecting to see blood and brain upon the grass. Mari stopped reaching for her quiver and grabbed her bow in both hands by the ends, stepping to the side and using it to deflect a portion of the strike.


The magically strengthened bow withstood the punishment. (She would have to thank Iannerios when she returned.) Yet this fortune was not without consequence: Mari had used this technique in sparring, but then the hits were with simple longswords and not weilded with such deadly intent. This blow came from a warrior true, and although the bow had fulfilled its unusually assigned purpose well, the resulting vibration forced Mari to hold onto the ends of the bow more tightly, which in turn made her hands temporarily ache. There was no question: she might be able to deflect another blow or two, but eventually the bow would fail under such stress, and a direct blow would likely break it.


Mari's eyes narrowed as she backed up and regrouped. "Very well," she said mostly to herself, "I'll call you 'Eager' then." The jest was almost entirely for her own benefit as they began to circle one another. With the bow still held in front of her in both hands, she watched her opponent closely for signs of the next attack, quickly reassessing her best tactic. Close quarter fighting was not her strength, but she had a few options, including one she hoped only to exercise if it became absolutely necessary.

 

[Chordling]

The edge of the blade slashed against the curve of the bow and slid away from its desired target. Gwendalin let out a grunt when her sword suddenly seized against the wooden bow, and became disappointed when the smaller weapon did not break in half. In that one moment she had gathered that Mari's bow was not of the ordinary sort. This weapon had been enchanted, and Gwendalin could feel a herself loathe Mari even more. Not only had this woman been an archer, she had also fortified her armory with magic.


Wizardry was just another element in the world that Gwendalin completely despised. Many say Gwendalin just doesn't have the patience to understand the magical kind, though Gwendalin could personally disagree. Her understanding was that these individuals felt the need to put themselves at their own disadvantage, because they did not find themselves physically capable, or thought that they could outsmart a warrior with mythical forces. Gwendalin rationalized that individuals who dared to temper with the natural properties of their armory did not want to be viewed as the latter, or wanted to be accepted by both factions. This idea made them look worse to Gwendalin than those who merely relied on magic.


When she caught a glimpse of Mari's face, she did her best to intimidate the other woman with a low growl through bared teeth, then drew her sword back to her side, as she continued to force Mari in close proximity of her blade. Part of her goal now was to maintain the short distance between them. In a swift movement, she bashed her silver shield forward, attempting to push it against her opponent and cause her to falter. The crowd became fascinated by their battle tactics as they continued to duel. Though a bow and arrow was typically used for offensive actions, it seemed that Mari had been placed in a position where her weapon would need to be used defensively. And it was more common for shields to be placed in a defensive position, Gwendalin had been given the opportunity to use it offensively.


After her attempt to hinder Mari, Gwendalin spun around with her sword at waist height, intending to cut at her opponent's flesh. Her shield pulled back to her side as she rotated, and exposed it's beaten surface towards any misused arrows. The toe of her steel boot created a small cloud of dust as it created a circular indent in the earth, and the plates of her armor smoothly slid over one another as her arm moved back at the final moment to add extra power behind her potentially lethal slash. It would be moments like this when her general would begin to feel slightly empathetic toward the poor fellow who was unlucky enough to face her in battle. Gwendalin would have to remind him of his own golden rule that empathy is for the weak, and does not earn you victory.

 

[Erica]

As her opponent growled at her, Mari grew suddenly nostalgic for her previous uneventful battles. Her match with Azazel, while challenging, had a spirit of sparring and even camaraderie about it. Not so with this woman. This Gwendalin would not be satisfied with scoring a hit: she seemed to earnestly desire Mari's death. While shocking, this provided focus and clarity.


Holding her bow out before her, Mari jumped backwards to avoid the thrusts of the shield. This forced her from the relatively dry and flat area where they had first engaged upwards along a small incline over run with roots and moss. Footing would be difficult here, and already Gwedalin prepared for another strike.


The other woman's form and motion was nearly poetic, but Mari had no time to appreciate it. Instead she made a series of quick judgement calls. The bow would not withstand many more hits; so she had to devise another defense. The bow was her best weapon, but it required distance. She could try for her knives, but that would require abandoning her bow. And even as these thoughts ran through her mind, she felt more than saw Gwendalin prepare her strike. Instinct kicked in, telling her that she had a narrow opportunity to make the unexpected choice. Years of sparring with her brothers had taught her that if she could not keep her distance from an opponent armed with a blade, getting inside their reach could be effective in preventing useful strikes. When under attack, the body screamed for her to run, but she had learned to ignore this, at least temporarily.


As Gwendalin's sword cut the air in an impressive arc, Mari ducked and tucked into a roll below the blade. She felt the blade scrape her quiver on her back, but only enough to knock off one of the small rivets holding the bands around the cylindrical quiver. Then she rose to a squatting position on the side of Gwendalin's sword arm. With a lighter armored opponent, she might have attempted to sweep their legs with her bow, but that would be ineffective against this woman's plate. So Mari tossed her bow behind her, abandoning it to the dirty arena floor for the moment as she grasped the handle of one of the throwing knives strapped near the small of her back. Unsheathing it in a fluid motion, she aimed for a seam between two plates of the swordswoman's armor exposed by the latest attack, letting the blade fly with an expert flick of her wrist from less than two feet away.


She offered no rejoinders or quips this time. This was too dangerous, and far she needed to be ready, for she was certain her opponent was.

 

[Chordling]

Gwendalin's quick rotation ended with a forceful strike, one that failed to hit it's desired target, and triggered a roar of frustration to release itself from the warrior's lungs. It was almost unbelievable; almost. The edge of the blade barely scraped the top of Mari's quiver as the smaller warrior ducked to evade Gwendalin's assault. The only profit the angered woman received was the small, shredded pieces of a rivet that helplessly fell from the craft of a single arrow. Though probably due to her attire and size, Gwendalin became impressed with Mari's agility. Many of her other opponents suffered large gashes or even death, but somehow this woman managed to defy both assumptions. Yes, Gwendalin was more than impressed. Impressed and enraged.


Her opponent escaped her hard gaze, though only briefly. Gwendalin turned on her heel again to regain her sight of Mari. The cathedral like arena gave a crisp echo when Mari cast her weapon to the side, causing the red haired woman to send a menacing grin. She basked under the assumption that Mari had been weaponless, and readied her weapon for another strike. But then her eyes caught the seamless motion that revealed the sharp, dagger like tool, and Gwendalin's body quickly withdrew her offense. She had barely been quick enough to block the first knife by the edge of her shield, but failed to notice the second blade that had darted in her direction until she felt a searing pain drag itself through her knee.


The unharmed knee knelt to the ground as she hid herself behind her shield, then briefly turned her glance away from the archer to view the damage. Fans roared at the first sight of true blood spill. Their voices rang through the open space of the ancient ruins, it almost sounded like it had been the first bloodshed they had seen during the entire tournament. You could almost feel their anticipation for what would follow. Would Mari take this opportunity to gain some distance? Would Gwendalin withstand the gruesome pain from her dagger wound? What other surprises did the warriors hold?


Fresh blood trickled from the openings through the precious, dented metal, and Gwendalin wasn't sure which had been more tragic. The fact that her knee had just been impaled by a short piece of steel, or that her father's hard work had been soiled by the very same weapon. It wouldn't have been the first time her armor succumbed to overpowering weaponry, but every time a moment like this occurred, Gwendalin couldn't help being suppressed by shame and dishonor. But then she reminded herself the true source that had caused such a personal sin, and her gaze suddenly shifted back towards Mari, with obvious signs of deep hatred.


The dagger was suddenly removed from the injured warrior, then thrust dagger back into the arena, unconcerned of its actual destination. With the strength of her uninjured leg, she pushed herself back to a stable stance, and picked up her blade. Her lips flared, and her eyes narrowed in anger. Gwendalin would have liked to point that Mari's tactics were a poor way of gaining the advantage, but Gwendalin would not lie to herself. This other woman may have been skilled in various arts, but Mari would never hold the same pride as Gwendalin did as a dedicated master to a single expertise. Her eyes were still locked on her opponent's as she enunciated with great meaning and volume.


"This isn't over."

 

[Erica]

Accustomed to possessing greater speed and agility than her opponents, Mari was surprised when the red-haired swordswoman managed to turn in time to deflect her thrown blade. Her esteem for her opponent renewed, she instinctively drew a second blade with her right hand and threw it as well, low enough to strike true in the woman's knee.


Inwardly, she felt a pang of sympathy as Gwendalin dropped to a knee. The strike had to be causing severe pain to bring such a warrior down, even temporarily. Mari cringed as the crowd cheered. They wanted her to press her attack.


Foolish though it might be, Mari was not yet prepared to attack with her magic. It seemed unfair against a woman who clearly excelled at the sword. This limited Mari's options severely. She only carried six blades and dared not turn to retrieve her bow without assessing her opponent's current capabilities. Theoretically, the injured knee should slow Gwendalin down. If not, though, it could be a deadly assumption.


Then the other woman fixed her with a furious gaze and spoke from behind the cover of her shield.


"This isn't over."


Mari tensed and shook her head nearly imperceptibly. "No, of course it is not. Still, I would prefer neither of us sacrifice our lives for their sport." She motioned toward nothing in particular, trying to indicate the crowd. In response, some booing mixed in with the cheering and calls for more fighting coming from the stands they could not see. As she continued, she could picture Draven among the crowd. He was probably holding his head in his hands and bemoaning her attempt to talk to her opponent.


Mari kept watching Gwendalin for any sign of an eminent attack, but she felt that she had to try. "I have no issue with you." Her serious expression faded and an amused smile graced her lips. "But I would like to see who is better."

 

[Chordling]

Determination had swept away the torturous pain from Gwendalin's injury, and the warrior's stance appeared more balanced. By now a small stream had formed its way down the shin of her boot, the one corresponding to her sword arm. Spectators around the arena gasped in awe as the gruesome sight was revealed from Gwendalin's kneeling position. Some of them sought the need to politely excuse themselves from the watching area, others waited with eager eyes.


"Now she's really in for it," a viewer commented as the people cheered and clapped around him.


Another observer turned his head to reply. "Yeah, if Mari has the sense in her to do so." His hands still clapped as he spoke, then he raised his arms and curved his palms around his mouth. "Finish her!"


"She's a goddamn archer," the viewer responded back. "Mari all ready won this battle the moment she stepped into the arena. Trust me. I've seen fights like this before. The swordsman never wins."





The observer's arms were positioned by his sides now, and the clapping around them began to lighten. "Well, you clearly are more knowledgeable on the subject than I am," he spoke with true meaning. "But who knows, there is always a first for everything, right?" The observer gave off a weak smile. "Besides, we have here a swords woman. Can't mistake one thing for the other now, can we?"





The viewer gave a friendly wink towards the observer, just as the previous round of applause had completely died away.


Gwendalin took a weak step forward with her damaged knee, then swiftly shifted her weight forward onto the other knee before sending another swing in Mari's direction. The bow that had been cast off onto the grounds of the arena seemed to taunt them both. Its current state gave Gwendalin the advantage she wanted, and at least distracting Mari from fetching her beloved instrument was satisfying enough. Again, she appeared to stumble forward, then would quickly turn her weight onto the other leg and send out a slash. All the while she strongly held to her shield, ready to bash against her opponent's lean frame.

 

[Erica]

Her words seemed to have no effect upon the warrior before her. The redhead offered no response. Instead, she atttempted to stand, however carefully. The crowd continued to cheer, boo, and yell advice, but Mari kept her eyes on the woman before her as she took a small step back, giving the other woman some room and a chance to safely test the joint's stability.


Despite fervently wishing that the woman would speak after allowing her such a courtesy, it was not meant to be. In response to her request for non-lethal combat, the swordswoman attacked. She feigned greater injury to slash at Mari.


It happened so quickly that she nearly missed it. The auburn-haired archer jumped back, her arms spread wide to avoid the blade. It was almost enough, but not quite. The tip of the blade sliced Mari's right bicep, cutting the fabric there and leaving a long gash in its wake. Crimson blossomed on the light-colored sleeve as the blade continued its path and left a similar mark on Mari's left thigh; although that injury was lessened by the bottom of her armor.


Mari could practically hear the "I told you so"s she would get when she got home. But first she had to get home. Her smile long gone, her eyes narrowed in anger, just before the shield hit her in the chest and chin.


As she staggered backwards, she heard the crowd's familiar cry: "Finish her!" Only this time, they were rooting for her opponent, and the swordswoman was unlikely to be merciful.

 

[Chordling]

The blade seemed to sing as it cut across Mari's bare arm, then slice itself across the archer's light armor. Like a kid not wanting to miss out in all of the fun, Gwendalin's shield forced itself against Mari's body, causing its target to stumble backwards.


Words of "encouragement" rang throughout the stadium, and though their praises had been convincing, Gwendalin found herself in a state of over exertion. The pain within her knee awakened once more, and hindered Gwendalin's opportunity to take down her opponent. Carefully she balanced herself, though Gwendalin was unsure if her position would be able to withstand any anticipated attacks. Though she had been successful in catching her opponent before, the glory was not enough to compel the warrior any closer to the archer.


She leaned forward, without taking stride, and swung her blade out to Mari. It was an equivocal attempt. The warrior knew the distance between them had been far enough to place Mari just out of sword's reach. This had been the only action the warrior dared to push herself through.


She could hear her general yelling at her in her mind to persevere, and to place her opponent out of her misery. For once Gwendalin was able to push aside his demanding words, and remained in her unnatural position. True, had it been a real war, this would not be the case, but putting herself in such severe pain to take down a single archer in their current conditions did not seem deserving of her efforts.

 

[Erica]

The sound of the crowd stuttered briefly as Mari's vision went white. She felt more than heard the unsettling clack of her teeth slamming together. Stepping backward felt clumsy and slow. Her mind screamed for her to focus; on every level, she knew that her life was in danger. Her opponent only wanted one thing: victory, preferably at the cost of Mari's life. She had to get her bearings, and fast.


Her body would not be rushed, however. A blow to the jaw demanded the her body's full attention, if only for a few moments. And they were precious ones.


The swordswoman moved forward to strike again, but this time the blade missed. Mari kept her feet beneath her and managed to lean backwards, but it was barely necessary. At first, she thought the swordswoman might have finally discovered some mercy. Then she saw the anger still smouldering in the other woman's eyes, even as she flinched in pain.


A better woman might have ignored the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She might have attempted to plead again for an honorable match intended to avoid severe injury. At the moment, however, the feel of blood running down her arm, the sting of the slice to her thigh, and the ringing in her head distracted her from the most honorable path. Her bow was still behind her, out of reach. Persumably, if she attempted to retrieve it the swordswoman would attack in earnest. Before she realized she had chosen to do so, Mari had opened up her connection to the elements. Well, one element: the only one that heeded her. Arcs of white-blue light danced over her left hand and wrist, increasing in intensity and frequency. The archer looked down at her hand, noting the building power there, then to the swordswoman before her, opting to take the more honorable course. She would give the woman fair warning.


Waiting to ensure her opponent saw the energy dancing in her hand and the threat it presented to the metal-armored, Mari maintained the distance between them. "We are both injured, and the time for our match is nearly at a close. Are you satisfied with blood drawn, or shall we continue?"


Later, Mari would say that, in that moment, she fervently hoped the woman would choose to allow the judges to determine the winner. If she were truly honest, however, she had to admit - at least to herself - that she wished most of all that her opponent would give her an excuse to knock her out.

 

[Chordling]

Sweat began to pool near the edge of Gwendalin's hairline as her lungs eagerly fought for fresh air. The knee injury seemed to drain her energy more than she ever expected. Briefly she concluded that the dagger had been tainted, but Gwendalin knew she would have all ready submitted to Mari's victory, even if a weak, poisonous solution had been applied. During one of the early wars she fought in, an arrow managed its way past the plate in her shoulder. It was quickly learned that their enemies doused their ammo with high volumes of toxic substances to take down their opposing forces. General Tryphon eventually found Gwendalin's suffering corpse in the middle of the battlefield, and against his own code, hauled her back to their medics. That had been the only favor her General ever did for her.


Eventually they were able to learn of the poison that had entered Gwendalin's veins, and were able to salvage their beloved soldier. Other warriors had also been infected, though not as severely. From then on Gwendalin became familiar with the pain that came with contaminated weapons, and the pain she was experiencing in this moment was certainly far from it. She drew a few deep breathes, attempting to push her misery away, but her efforts were fruitless.


The bright flashes that coated Mari's hand flashed in the corner of Gwendalin's eye, bringing the red haired warrior's attention away from her knee. Her angered expression pushed away into something more displeasing, one that would only confirm her hatred towards magical elements. Now it seemed that her opponent held the advantage, no matter what physical state they may be in. Gwendalin's steel attire held no effect over the floating energy under Mari's command. Though Mari's word's teased the warrior's tolerance, something within would not allow Gwendalin to give up. Her sword remained unsheathed, and her shield stayed on guard, even though they would be of no use to the warrior against Mari's electric powers.


"Why stop now?" her deep voiced countered. It was true, both of them had experienced a fair amount of damage, but in Gwendalin's mind it did not seem logical to suddenly seize their efforts. They had come so far, why end it? Why ruin the opportunity to see what other events lied ahead? Yes, their battle was about to come to an end, but Gwendalin understood from a long repertoire of battles that unfathomable things could happen within that seemingly insignificant amount of time.

 

[Erica]

(My apologies, but I am traveling today and will not have the opportunity to post again. If you want to post to wrap up the match, Mari would not light her up, but would rather back up toward her bow - but not picking it up - and give Gwendalin the opportunity to get to her feet with no immediate threat of attack. Excellent match, though! As always, you rock.)