Round 2: Acrobat (Xomath) VS. Duelist (Isobella) - Judge Kicks

[Kicks]

http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/22621c9c664b73cdc029c8f23b17bf13.jpg

An unfinished game of chess or a battle arena? The answer was to draw clear when the contestants came to the field.

The chessboard that was laid out in front of them was large, as if they were only one of the pieces in the unfinished game of chess.

Some of the pieces laid out on the board were turned over, possibly knocked over by a winning piece or taken down as victim to previous competitors’ battles. But other pieces stood proudly in their marked places, waiting for their move, always waiting. The fallen pieces made for a great place to hide, or a great way to trip. The real pieces to watch out for were the ones that still stood. Be wary of these pieces for they can move, or can be moved.

Beware that by stepping off the board, there is nothing to catch you. The competitor will meet an untimely end by falling to their death into an abyss. Whatever kept this chess afloat must have been by magic.

(After two turns each, I will make a post.)
(You have 72 hours to post, and 5 turns each.)

By the tossing of an Indian Penny, the first to post will be Koti~!

[Koti~]

Skin to bone, Steel to Rust (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OYdeuj3EOw)

Hard tile clacked as she made first foot fall. Swords resting at her side, she looked around, her eyes soaking in all that she could see. Somehow, she had gone from a dimly lit cell to a bright lit chess board, mid match. Pieces lay over on the floor, there defeat obvious. Others stood tall and proud, the pawns matching her height, while others dwarfed her.

“A strange place, to be sure.” Isobella spoke, resting one of her hands on an upright piece. She had started at one of the corners, next to the queen piece in the corner. She looked up to it, giving a mirthless chuckle before sliding both swords out. It was rather fitting that she start next to the strongest chess piece, able to move about freely and relying on no other.

With her observations finished, she headed towards the middle, eyes looking around the field. It was well lit, the light coming from above with no real source. The world around them was completely dark; no light or anything piercing the dark completely. With a final swing of her blade, she made it to the center of the field. She took a deep breath, spinning the swords a few times before allowing them to point down in her hands.

“I know not who is here, but let it be know. You will lose.” Isobella allowed her voice to boom around the room, looking for her opponent. With the obvious feel of a fight, she was ready, her body shifting into a more tense yet mobile pose. Her left hand rested near her waist, the blade pointed down and parallel to her leg. Her right arm was raised, blade pointed out and held diagonally away from her body, her fingers flexing over it from time to time.

She needed to be ready for anything, from long range to midget with a sledge hammer. Either were possible, as no inclination had been given to whom she would be fighting against. Pushing her left leg forward and tensing her right, she let out a deep breath, letting her feel her surroundings. Currently there were two things that she knew right now.

One, she was in a fight for her life in a strange place. And two,

She must win, for she vowed to never fail again.

[RedKayne]

The Game of Life and Death (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FS1lKA2GNF0)

Memories. Precious memories.

Xomath sat inside of the cold cell, practically meditating as he self-reflected on his past. He just won his previous battle against the cowardly Alchemist, and decapitated his opponent with a swift strike. The mental image of the dwarf’s flying head caused the Acrobat’s lips to slightly curl up into a small smile. The rush of combat always exhilarated the orc, and he only looked forward to his next match, and hoped that he will face a worthy nemesis.

Yet, he always had to remain focused on his goal. He needed to be victorious in this tournament, so that he can regain the memories of his previous life. Xomath cherished the memories that were brought back to him, the ones about his brother. The orc exhaled deeply, making a slow and drawn-out sigh. His brother, apparently, was becoming weak and nearing the end of his life. Xomath can still feel the bitter feeling of helplessness, because he couldn’t do anything to help his brother.

He needed to win this next battle, because he needed to find out what happened to his brother. From then on, the Acrobat will forge his own fate based on the results of this tournament and the memories of the past. His feline-like eyes opened, and his golden orbs appearing to be glowing beacons in the darkness of the small cage. The orc stood up, rotating his shoulders in a clockwise motion while stretching his muscles. He was like a lion, ready to be unleashed from its cage and create havoc.

Xomath, the Acrobat, was prepared for battle. Pray for those that stand before his onslaught.

Typical. The overlords of this tournament viewed this battle as nothing more than a game. They decided to place the Acrobat on an over-sized chessboard. This brought a little bit of distaste to the orc’s mouth, because the honor of combat should be taken more seriously. Regardless, he needed to adapt to his setting, and prove to everyone that he was not a warrior to be trifled with.

He took in the sight of his surroundings, examining the fallen pieces of the chessboard. Apparently, many of the pawns were already taken down, which did seem fitting for war. The real key players, such as the kings and queens, still stood tall and proud. These kinds of figureheads demanded and deserved respect, and the orc nodded with approval. The abyss awaited beyond the edges of the game board. Complete and everlasting darkness welcomed those whom would dare trespass its territory, and any ill-footing would cause one final descent into the maw of doom.

The orc took a step forward, and then approximately a few paces ahead of one of the remaining knights. His bare-feet caused no sound, and so his footsteps were silent and did not gave away his position. It was time to search and destroy his next opponent.

Suddenly, a strong and determined female’s voice loudly called out to battle him. Her voice was oddly pleasant, mainly because the orc respected the quiet strength behind it. Xomath’s formed a small but excited smile, and then licked his black lips in anticipation. This fight would be completely different than the last one, and he wouldn’t have to deal with any coward or dishonorable foe.

His gaze fell upon the other side of the chessboard, noticing a young battle-maiden. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness, almost like a ghost or a spirit. Raven-black hair fell upon her shoulders, and she was adorned with a dark-colored outfit. The woman carried silver katana-like blades in each hand. The dark cape shrouded her figure, and most likely hid any other weapons that were strapped on her person.

Xomath’s golden eyes narrowed upon her, focusing his vision and drawing in his inner sight. Her facial features bore the similarities of both a human and an elf. This perplexed the orc, and then he sniffed the air several times to study her scent. It was strange, but not unpleasant like the foul dwarf from before. The smell was a mixture of both a human and an elf, and so Xomath could safely assume that she was a hybrid offspring of the two.

He continued utilizing his inner sight ability, and examined her measurements. Her slim body stood proudly around the height of five feet and eight inches. Her almond-like eyes contained a quiet darkness, exposing the grim aura surrounding her.

Xomath took another step forward, finally completely his observations on the young warrior. This Duelist would find it difficult to escape from Xomath’s wrath, because he will always be able to track her down no matter where she decided to hide. It didn’t help that this arena was relatively small, and that the only areas to find cover were hiding behind the large chess pieces.

He raised his right arm, which held his signature weapon. He snapped it down, and the metal tip of his lance clanked loudly against the floor. The loud sound echoed throughout the arena, which announced the orc’s presence to his opponent. Xomath did not favor surprise attacks upon his enemies, and would rather face them in an honorable head-on battle.

The silent orc gave a nod towards her direction, expecting this to be a worthy battle between two close-range fighters. Obviously, Xomath’s large and toned body surpasses the physical strength of the Duelist’s skinny and lithe figure. However, he will not underestimate her prowess as a warrior. She may have the advantage of speed, and with the combination of the deadly dual blades, she would be an extremely challenging opponent.

It was time to begin.

Xomath maneuvered his lance, holding the weapon horizontally and with both hands. He charged forth towards the center of the battlefield, his calloused feet stomping loudly against the tile floor as he rapidly approached his opponent. One could liken the sight of a charging orc to a lion ready to pounce upon his prey.

Xomath was the predator, and Isobella was his prey.

Finally, when Xomath closed the distance between the two of them, and was only a few feet away, he halted his movement. Immediately, he swung his lance with both arms in one swift yet powerful horizontal motion. The halberd-blade of the lance approached towards her side, intending to bisect her from the waist. This would be a test to see how she could retaliate, because it would be difficult for her to block his attack endowed by his brutish strength. Yet, the Acrobat has been surprised before in battles, and would be ready for anything.

We shall see who shall overcome who in this match... the beauty?

Or the beast?

[Koti~]

Two swords, one soul. Both steeled with resolve. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ol5k02RRYhY)

Slowing her breathing, she began to fully prepare herself. Her left blade moved in small circle, having switched so the blade ran parallel to her waist, point facing from where she came from. Her right blade was still pointed up, the steel now crossing her face, splitting her eyes from her lips from the corner of her right lip to her temple. Her mind began to clear, to focus on the two blades and her beating heart, feeling it pump through her, allowing her breathing to sync up.

1 ….. 2….. 3….. 4…. 5 heart beats inhaled, her chest expanding from her diaphram up, filling her and pushing her into the world. She held it there, 5 beats once again, allowing her body to tense up, feel that minute burn that resided within, before letting it out. Not as a rush, but a steady rhythm, slow and calming as she pushed herself out of her mind, focusing and picking up what she could from the battle. It was a tactic that she remembered well, not from what, but that fit her so well.

Her left leg pushed forward, bending at the knee as her weight bore down on it, tensing like a coil of a piston. Right extended back, heel raising to propel her forward, bringing her center of gravity into her lower stomach.


1 ….. 2….. 3….. 4…. 5 seconds paused, her eyes focusing. Her body tensed over as the loud clang filled the board, providing her a warning. She turned her head, almost eyes swiveling to take in the sight before her. It was a distance away, but even from there she could see the feline orc, proud weight lifted on his shoulders, right hand wrapped around the shaft of his halberd spear. His body bespoke of toned muscles, angular yet curved, pronounced muscles in his chest and arms. Hair draped around his shoulders in rolls, metallic bands holding them in place as he nodded to her, drawing a short one from her. The orcs legs were hidden from view, covered by a loin cloth that easily drapped to his knees and gave fruitless protection to his loins.

It wasn’t a place she would attack without reason, for her honor respected that.

As Xomath shifted his weapon into his grip, across his chest, she could make out the metal spike resting at the back. A two tipped weapon, good for defense and parries from both ends. He would provide a good fight, worthy of her fullest. As he charged, she would wait, allowing the man to get up to speed before she did.

Press, coil, and release. Her right leg shot forward, adrenaline kicking in before she had made a step. The rush was of so familiar, the blood beginning to pump faster as she moved, matching, and soon outpacing the Orc in the contest as speed. The world around her seemed to slow a fraction, her pupils dilated as the bodily chemicals rushed through her, allowing the intake of more detail than before.

As Xomath stopped to prepare his attack, she continued, slipping onto his right. She could see the muscles buldge and flex to pull the weapon back, right arm moving forward, having already begun it’s movement to her waist. She would waste no time.

Positioned at his right, she slid some, left leg pushing out and locking into place as she pivoted on that foot, turning to face his right side, both blades flowing up in harmony. Her right arm came to her shoulders, slicing through the air as she aimed for his exposed right shoulder, intent to dig it into the man's shoulder. Her left came at an angle, its sharpened edge flying for the elbow, ready to bite into flesh and drag along the joint.

As she finished her strike, her right leg would push out, contacting the ground hard by her weight. Her arms were up, her left having taken the time to reposition the hold, both blades matching in direction.

1..2..3..4..5.. She counted in her head, watching the weapon intently before she bore down on it, both blades skimming the air as she brought her weight onto the spear. She could already tell head on collision would end with her down, so she would have to borrow his strength, like the waves borrow the power of the earth to guide them. She threw her weight into it, blades hungering to slam down his, to drive the brunt of the halberd into the ground. Her body coiled them, pressure on her left to be ready to move, adrenaline and dopamine coursing through her as her heart beat fast in her veins.

This would be a battle to prove herself, that she was leagues above such a savage creature such as this.

[RedKayne]

The Brave Lion Within (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNyrNwWTf6k)

Graceful and swift, the Duelist moved quickly to avoid the Acrobat’s initial attack. Isobella moved elegantly, slipping to his exposed right side and then raising her blades. Xomath continued forth with his swing, already too late to stop his own attack and defend himself from the human-elf’s upcoming assault. Both of her dual swords thrust to his vulnerable right arm, one of them intending to pierce through his shoulder and deal a crippling injury. The other aimed to spill the savage orc’s blood by slicing through his elbow.

The silent warrior observed her actions through a sidewards glance, watching as her silver katana-like blades neared his muscular flesh. Most warriors would be reacting in an unpleasant manner, and would panick over the chance of possible harm due to an unforeseen attack. However, Xomath was not like most warriors. In fact, there was a hint of a smile on his black lips, because he was well-pleased about this battle and the opponent he was facing.

In this arena, the two close-combat warriors can entirely focus on their battle. Unlike in the Acrobat’s previous fight, he had to focus more upon the dangerous environment than his actual opponent. In this battlefield, the Acrobat still had to be aware of his current surroundings in this chessboard, but there were little to no hazardous obstacles. Only the broken chess pieces scattered among the ground posed any danger if one does not pay attention over their steps.

The only real sense of danger would be battling upon the edge of this game-board and risk the chance of falling into one’s death. It certainly would be an exhilarating feeling to battle in front of the maw of the abyss, considering the massive increases of adrenaline rush. However, as of right now, such combat would be unnecessary. He only needed to be constantly aware of his current position on this board and estimate the distance between himself and the edge. That way, he won’t be receiving any unpleasant surprises any time soon.

Isobella, the Duelist, already began to prove to be a worthy opponent of his time. She calculated his rate of speed, and managed to outpace him by utilizing her incredible speed to pivot away from his attack. Her simple yet polished movement was a very welcomed surprise to the orc, and he certainly looked forward to the rest of this battle. This fight would be the epitome of honorable combat between two warrior souls, destined a pave a bright future in this tournament.

However, Xomath still had his eyes on the prize, and fully intended to be victorious by the end. His initial attack was merely used to test the Duelist’s ability and see how she would retaliate, and so he could easily maneuver his lance’s sidewards cleaving motion to deflect her blades. One would have expected Xomath to stop his current swing, and bring his large weapon back in an attempt to block Isobella’s blades. However, that only would have eaten away what precious time he had left, and the orc continued with his swing. His feet remained firmly planted upon the tiled floor., they did not pivot to improve his balance nor did they take another step to stop his forward momentum. Instead, his upper leg muscles began to relax and became loose to help provide unrestricted movement.

His hip and waist muscles stretched, appearing to be elastic as his torso continued to turn around in a counterclockwise motion. Amazingly, the orc used his own momentum as an advantage to speed up his contortion. Xomath’s green skin continued to twist, his abdomen muscles wrinkling from the pressure. His wild manes whirled around, flying freely in the air due to the high-speed movement. His right hand raised up and lifted his lance in a diagonal arc which would be effective in blocking the dual blades. He felt one of Isobella’s swords grazing against a new, unintended target. The tip of the blade contacted his left shoulder, lightly scraping against it and spilling a small amount of the orc’s black blood.

Finally, in those cherished few seconds, Xomath finished his twisting motion and brought his lance up into a slamming action. The iron shaft of his halberd-lance collided against the center of the steel blades, and then pushed them higher up in the air and away from the orc’s body. It was a completely baffling sight, because the orc’s torso managed to twist almost two-hundred and seventy degrees to block Isobella’s attack. Granted, any normal human being with flexibility could be capable of such a feat, but the Acrobat’s rubber and elastic-like body made the contortion clean, swift, and smooth.

His yellow feline-like eyes bore upon his opponent, slightly narrowing at her. Yet, there were no hints of malice within his gaze. Instead, there was a glimmer of excitement within his piercing golden orbs. His wild manes once again settled upon his broad shoulders, and then silence briefly fell in the battlefield. The orc studied his opponent, trying to gauge what is her own personal character.

Isobella’s almond black eyes displayed a quiet determination, and this proved she was very motivated to win this fight. Xomath could only make assumptions on why she wanted to win this tournament. Perhaps she wanted to prove herself, and to show others that she is not only a competent fighter... but an excellent swordswoman. A dark and grim aura did surround her, and that aspect is usually the result of tragedy. Yet, as far as the Acrobat is concerned, she is an honorable fighter and rose above her past. Then again, she may also suffer from memory loss, and so does she truly want to regain her tragic memories?

Does he want to regain his tragic memories?

After all, based upon the memories he regained, Xomath shortly discovered that his brother was nearing the end of his life. The orc couldn’t fathom why... was he suffering from a disease? Did his brother planned to fight an unwinnable battle the next day? Was he walking right into a slaughter?

If Xomath does win this battle, he will most likely be given a revelation upon his brother’s fate. More than likely, his beloved brother met an unpleasant demise. Does he truly want to go through the bitterness of losing his brother, twice? Will he sink into a spiral of darkness, and become depressed over the death of a family member? Even if Xomath managed to escape the abyss from this battle, the darkness will not release its hold upon the savage orc’s heart.

Yet, the Acrobat couldn’t think that way. He will not think that way.

He tightened the grip of his iron shaft, and a new fiery light filled his eyes. He was even more determined to win this battle, regardless of the consequences. Xomath knows himself very well, and understands that he is a battle-proud warrior with a strong heart. In this moment, he is still standing. This proves that he overcame the bitterness of losing his brother beforehand, and he will overcome that feeling yet again. He will not back down and he will not give up. He will keep pushing forward until he reigns supreme.

The weight of Isobella’s blades bore upon the shaft of his lance, and the two were locked in a struggle of both willpower and physical strength. However, even though the Duelist may have an indomitable spirit, her physical prowess could not match the Acrobat’s pure strength. The orc quickly shoved his lance forward, pushing away the blades and giving the orc an ample amount of time for his next move.

His body rapidly uncoiled itself, releasing all of the built tension and reverting back to its normal state. Now, before Isobella had the chance to swing her blades back down upon him, Xomath quickly crouched down and tensed his leg muscles. In this moment, he would show why he earned the title of the Acrobat. His calloused feet pushed against the cold floor, and then he jumped up several feet high.

He somersaulted backwards, his large body moving in a graceful fashion through air. His body moved in a reversed arc, and the trajectory placed him several feet behind his original location. The orc quickly reached the apex of his arc, and rapidly descended towards the ground. His feet landed directly on to a black tile with a soft thud, and then Acrobat straightened his body posture. Xomath’s right hand lightened its grip on the lance, which hanged directly parallel to the ground. The large halberd-edge pointed towards the general proximity of his opponent, who now stood several feet away from the silent orc.

Xomath took note of his surroundings, becoming aware that he is approaching one of the outer edges of the arena. However, it was still quite the distance away, and he didn’t need to worry about falling off of the battlefield in this current instance. Instead, he especially paid attention to the broken bishop piece lying on the ground nearby. In fact, this large chess piece was in the direct path between the two warriors. It was about three arms length away from the orc, and the black bishop itself was broken in half from the waist. The bishop, despite being a royal figure, became another casualty in the game between the overwatching gods.

The Acrobat glanced back up at his opponent, and this time prepared himself. He will not initiate the next attack, but instead raised his free hand towards her. He flexed his brutish fingers, gesturing the battle maiden to make the next attack instead. She had a couple of options to maneuver around the broken bishop in between them. The Duelist could always run around bishop, and then encircle the orc with her high speed before commencing her next assault. If she also proved to be an agile person, she could always leap over the chess piece and lunge towards the orc with her twin blades.

However, Xomath still had a significant advantage in this situation and overall in this battle. Range. His lance was nearly twice the length of her two swords, and thus could attack her from a mid-distance. Whichever angle she will approach from, the Acrobat will be ready for her. Xomath widened his battle stance, his left leg sliding further up while his other leg did the complete opposite. He retightened the grip on his lance with his right hand, constricting the iron shaft with tension. His free arm stretched forward and helped stabilize his balance, and his opened palm faced Isobella and gave another beckoning sign to her.

He narrowed his eyes once more, focusing his vision and observing any further actions from the Duelist. His nostrils flared, sniffing the air several times and taking in her familiar scent. His Inner Sight ability was still active, which helped improve his aim upon his targets. The orc was so fixated upon his opponent, that he was completely oblivious to the minor wound on his left shoulder. It was a light gash, but black blood freely oozed down his brownish-green skin. Even if the orc did paid any heed to the flesh wound, it was nothing to worry about because the blood will quickly clot in a matter of a few short minutes.

Xomath slowed down his breathing, envisioning his next strike and gathering power for it. In this strategy, he will allow the Duelist to approach him, before performing another one of his signature abilities: Impale. Once Isobella is near enough, he will thrust the charged-up lance towards her center. Impale is a devastating attack once it connects, because its damage potential is extremely high, practically through the roof. It can shatter dense armor, and can even skewer unprotected bodies. This attack may even have the capability of destroying her silver swords, if she plans to perform a head-on collision against him and attempt to deflect his attack.

Every ability has its own drawback, however, and this attack is no exception. Impale is a relatively slow attack, and enemies are prone to dodging it. A person with Isobella’s agility can easily dodge a sudden and out-of-place assault. Thus, Xomath will have to bide his time and continue gathering energy. He even had a backup plan just in case, which he will use as a perfect opportunity to strike like a ferocious lion.

Xomath did greatly respect Isobella as a warrior and as an adversary. However, he will not let her win. Whatever her goal is, she is clearly fighting only for herself. Xomath did not share that same mentality, because he was fighting for one other person. He was fighting for his brother.

Xomath not only carried the strength of one... but two ferocious orcs. Whatever became of his brother, whether he lived on or met his maker, his warrior spirit still lives within Xomath today. This is the powerful connection between two family members that are best friends. This is the final advantage that Xomath had over Isobella, and he intends to use this mindset to its fullest damaging potential.

This is an extremely deadly game between life and death, the players will do everything in their power to win. Both the Duelist and the Acrobat will clash against each other, seeking to overcome one another in the art of combat. However, Xomath is fully confident that he will claim the gauntlet of victory. The human-elf hybrid faces an orc with the heart of a proud lion, one who has the strength of multiple men.

Xomath exhaled deeply, clearing his mind and keeping his body very still. He awaited for Isobella’s next move, and was ready to continue this epic waltz between the beauty and the beast.

[Kicks]

It was then, and only then, that the game pieces came to life. By some sick twist of this game they brought themselves up from mere inanimate objects to those of destruction and a serving distraction from their true enemy.

The pieces shook in their places, shaking the ground with vibrations similar to that of an earth quake. The game board itself shook, enough so to cause for a great move.

The board dropped ten feet in the air, stopping at a slam ten feet below its original position.

And the game pieces, after having shaken themselves awake, sprung to life. They charged towards each of the opponents, making it harder for the opponents to be able to battle each other.

The battle continues; Koti is next to post.

[Koti~]

The cold bite of steel, and the fiery heat of her blade (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLAP1JDci7A)

Isobella had to admit, she was rather impressed at her opponent. His reaction was almost as fast as she, his body much more fluid. Muscles bent and stretched, his spine curling as he twisted in place, his arms raising as he moved. Her blade missed most of their target, her left slicing a hairsbreadth away from his chest, the sound of wind whistling between the two. Her right however, found purchase in his shoulder, splitting skin and spilling hot blood. She registered this before his spear rose, catching her blades on the downswing.

The clashing sound filled the air, steel against iron as they struggled, their eyes locking between them. Isobella could now study his eyes, the dull yellow, feline of a hunter, haunting yet aflame. Torment hid behind them, mental conflict raging behind them unspoken. Her mind focused on that, their struggle but background.

Did he resent having to fight here? That he was given such a woman to fight? Did he detest her due to the blood that ran through her, half human and elf. Hatred boiled, anger at being judged by another man, one who only seemed to look down at her. Her lips pulled taunt as their weapons separated, her arms quickly flowing down to protect her core. Her entire body coiled like a snake, ready to strike down such folly that she would be looked down upon.

Who was he to judge her?

He, who wore his hair like a beast, silent and judging. This man, who knew nothing of her past, possibly thinking her unworthy of a fight. As the man bounded away, she took a pause, watching. Depravity pumped through her veins, wretched anger pushing into her veins as she looked to him. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall again, not to another race, one who would not even acknowledge her. She raised her blades, her memories playing in her head.

She had lost her blade in that match, pain grimaced through her as she had fallen. He taunted her, asking if she were finished, nothing but a grin to hide behind. Who was this man, one who would toy with her, a mentor, or a rival? A father, or a brother.

Neither answer would present itself, for the last she could recall was his attack to her, having given herself just enough time to regain her weapon. She was pushed to think on her feet, always on the move. Speed was her forte, her strength. It didn’t matter those who stood to her, if they couldn’t see her move.

As the man's fading grin passed her mind, she tightened her grip on the hilt, watching her knuckles turn white from pressure. Her heart pounded through her, blood pumping in her vein as she finally returned her attention to the acrobat. This time around, he beckoned to her, drawing her to attack him. It was a simple taunt, an easy to see trap, but one that worked well. With the distance to cover, she would need to figure out a way to get through without taking that spear. He had already gone to take a stance, spreading his legs wide and hefting it to his side, holding it like a lance than a spear. It was a simple striking pose, but one that could cause severe pain if it were to land. Thus was the problem of the distance.

Even with her speed, he would easily be able to see her coming, see her movements no matter how she moved. It would take some serious work to make her attack work, but one idea did come to mind. She would have to bait him, to waste his attack and bring herself close and force an opening

Wiping her blade clean, she began, beginning a slow walk to the left, slowly gaining speed. An idea was slowly forming, bringing with her a possible chance. The broken bishop. It lay to her side, to the right of the orc, and easily to her chest. She could make it there, able to dive behind it before sending another in her place. Positioning both blades, she reached back, slipping the hood up before turning. She sprinted, her blades digging into the tiled floor, her face a mask of shadows.

Her feet carried her a few paces forward, the bishop looming closer before the floor began to vibrate. Drawing a further grimace to her face, she picked up her speed, wondering what trick this man was planning. Was his stance nothing more than a folly, to bait her into her attack as some arcane magic worked from the distance, to strike her from behind?

No, this orc boasted no signs of magic, his body built and sculpted to be a fighter. His elastic and taut body proved beyond a shadow that he was an athlete, far from the soft and delicate body of a mage. She ran then, feeling the floor pick up in vibrations and nearly force her to stop.

Knowing it was now or never, she dropped, still going full speed and allowing her weight to push her forward, sliding along the marble smooth floor towards the white pawn, before the world dropped away. The floor plummeted, leaving them all hanging for a sparse second before gravity took hold.

Isobella herself was still moving foward, her body shifting from sliding to gliding, moving on air towards the pawn that was now starting to drop. In seconds, her heart picked up, her mind drawing blank before having to re plan her entire move. Using that ability now would leave her open, and nothing more than a target to the falling pieces as she went to attack the falling Xomath.

As her feet contacted the head of the pawn, her mind solidified on a plan, her breath sucking in deep. Holding it, she allowed herself to tense and reposition, now facing towards the orc, the broken bishop just between them. She launched, her blades singing through the air before she spun, pushing as much weight into her feet just before contact with the piece. She could feel it’s weight, now floating free during their fall, the floor looming close behind them.

Mustering up what she could, Isobella kicked the bishop as the rest of her made contact, forcing it to fly towards the acrobat with some force, not enough to hurt, but more than enough to throw him off course. She might not be able to move like he does through the air, but even his skills would not be enough from stock still to falling. As she sailed back, she twisted again, her blades singing through the air as she landed on the head of the pawn once more.

Her eyes flew to the floor, now mere seconds from contact. She exhaled, her lungs burning from her flight as she began her second part. The near jarring impact of the pieces was almost enough to throw her off, if she had not already gone flying. Her new target loomed ahead, the large imposing figure of the white queen, imposing and strong. There was one that wouldn’t be felled until the war was done, and even then she wouldn’t bow without a fight. The perfect version of the perfect female warrior.

As she sailed, she spun, twisting gracefully so that she would now be staring down at the Acrobat, blades now resting against her chest. Scorn burned into the man; violent thoughts cascading through her brain. This man would never bring her down, no matter his gargantuan strength, nor his imposing size. Neither bothered her, as it was just another person in her way, another one who only wanted her shame, to see her defeated.

She contacted the queen, her feet pressing into the cold stone as she leaned down, gravity causing her raven hair to drop free of her hood. It masked her further, revealing only her amber eyes, those growing with tempered hatred and anger, rage and violence tempered like her blades.

She was forced to re-focus her attention once again, as the once quiet stone beneath her began to move, just the minute tremors beneath it. Once again the drop from before flickered across her mind, wondering if they had somehow broken the temporal hold that held this place, and would now be sent to plummet towards their demise on an unseen floor, more than likely shattering the field completely, fragments of wood and marble skittering across the ground like wild fire.

This was not to be the case, though, much to the chagrin of her own thoughts. The piece had begun to shake violently, pushing her off as it reared back, making the most common pose to strike her into the ground. Now not only would she have to focus her attention onto her opponent, she would now need to keep focused on the board itself. In her fall, she could see that the other pieces had begun to move, shuffling and skidding across the floor as they headed towards the two of them, treating them like enemy forces found in the opponent's encampment.

She fell to the ground, lying now on her back, momentarily dazed from the fall. She wasn’t given time as the pieces advanced. She rolled, quick to her feet, blades raised as she swiftly dodged out of the way. Had she been slower, all that would remain of herself would be her crushed form beneath the queen.

Though, she now had to deal with the Acrobat, her true opponent. It would prove difficult, but at the same time, a great opportunity to her. Already, she could see how the pieces would make long range difficult, their constant presence making wide swings and strokes just as damaging as standing still. With these thoughts rushing through her mind, she darted forward, her lithe frame slipping in between the chess piece with elven grace, blades poised. She held them in front of her, a barred cross in front of her, both to defend and strike. If he managed to complete his strike at her, she would use her momentum to sail above him, leaving the ground and enemies in her wake. If not… it was best she not focus on that.

Both blades rose, the edges glinting with malice and glee. She never once stopped moving, only once angling herself to his left side, away from the lifted spear. She tensed as she neared, drawing her body in and forcing herself into a smaller and smaller with each step, her arms tucked into her side as much as her stance would allow.

Within the breath of a wingbeat, both blades descended, sharpened edges hunting for the orc’s shoulders and to bear down across his chest, to score and slice him open. She could almost feel the orc’s sturdy resistance, his tough and calloused skin used to the bite and sting of the blade. She had to make these count, to teach the man his place.

Prove to him that she stood no chance against her, and that he would be left with two options. Though, from the fire that burned in his eyes, to the curl of his lips and almost animalistic pleasure that masked his face, he wouldn’t take it. This was a warrior, proud and strong, and surrender was not the honorable way. That he would face his opponent in battle strong and true, even if he stood no chance to win.

The second then was the only one. To fall at her blades. Allow his blood to slack the ground. Bath the white tiles red and stain the black tiles for all. If required, she would grant him a swift death, painless and honorable. The way a true warrior would fall.

One word played through her mind, nearly bringing a smirk to her lips.

Check.

[Kicks]

It is with great sadness I must announce that this Battle is over. Kayne has had to withdraw from the battle for great reasons.

I pronounce Koti~ as this round's winner.