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Post by Marshmallow on Feb 7, 2018 21:05:08 GMT -6
The bolt had struck home, though his opponent had finely honed reflexes and had managed to minimize the damage from the strike. Nevermind that the spell, hastily cast, had not carried enough force to kill something of its size outright. But he had hoped at least to slow it down, inflict enough damage to make it rethink its options. No such luck. The bulky humanoid barely paused in its charge. Faltered only for a breath, before that cold gaze was leveled upon him once more. And then it was sprinting toward him again. It intended to close the distance and put an end to his spells, that much was obvious.
He couldn't let that happen. In a brawl with this being, Ilchymis did not have the strength to compare. I do. It was imperative that he keep the soldier at a distance, at least until he could cripple it. Damage its legs, break its spine, rip off its head...
But Sohl... He couldn't leave Sohl! The ward he had placed would protect his brother from harm for a time, but he did not want to risk letting the icarim be taken hostage. Neither could he stay in place, and risk collateral damage. What should he do, what should he do?!
It was a sharp pinch in his thoughts. Dark thorns, tight and piercing, driving his reflexes where indecision would have left him rooted to the spot. The construct's light, slender body vaulted abruptly to the side, narrowly avoiding becoming flattened by the larger humanoid's charge. There was a despairing cry in his throat, but the Other's influence stifled and strangled the noise down to little more than a whine. His heart thundered in his chest, and the darkness was bleeding into his eyes like a stain. The voice was a rasp in both ears, sandpaper against the inside of his mind.
Move.
Fight.
Kill.
It is the only way to protect him.
He felt the continuing flow of magic within him, powerful and searing, but his spells needed time to charge after that last burst. He grit his teeth, reluctant to leave his brother's side despite the reality of the situation. But he would have to trust in his wards to protect Sohl while he maneuvered. He darted away, circling toward the direction the feline had charged from, trying to stay behind it and at a distance, using debris for cover.
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Post by tsukikoko on Feb 25, 2018 10:42:25 GMT -6
Rather than attempt to strike her again, the winged humanoid darted away from Viktoria's charge, attempting to create distance between the two of them. Presumably, that meant it had to recharge, or otherwise could not attack her in the same fashion as a moment ago - she could think of no other reason why it would not take the opportunity to try and hit her in the back as it slipped behind her strike. In that case, she needed to keep up the pressure.
Using the spurs jutting from her heels as a form of anchor, the scarred feline ground herself to a far swifter halt than a creature her size had any right to and pivoted back around to face her fleeing opponent. With a ferocious snarl designed to intimidate, rather than coming from a place of real fury, Viktoria barreled after the winged one with the same dogged determination as a pack of orcas running down a whale. Her target ducked behind debris, but she was not to be dissuaded.
Claws extended and jaws wide to display her rows of sharp, glistening teeth, Viktoria came clambering over one partially destroyed wall like a thing possessed; all snapping jaws and swollen pupils. In whatever window of time she had to chase this creature while it could not retaliate, Viktoria wanted to terrify it. Cause it to trip, to act rashly in a desperate attempt to defend itself, show her what other abilities it might be harboring. Every snarl, every snort of breath through flared nostrils, every gouge in the brick by her claws, was a deliberate and premediated step in her psychological warfare. When the winged one darted through a gap in a partially collapsed doorway too small for herself, the scarred feline continued her pursuit by slamming straight through the decaying wood and fallen brick in a flurry of fangs and a billowing of stone dust. There was not even a moment's pause as Viktoria forced her way through, her partially obscured form emerging from the dust cloud to continue the chase.
From a still snarling feline, wickedly sharp claws attached to limbs of powerful muscle lashed out at her target's wing and clothing, attempting to wound or snag it. If she could trip it, or get a hold of it, she could slam it to the ground, drag it towards herself, hold it down and forcibly stop it moving. Either way, she didn't give her fleeing opponent a moment's respite.
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Post by Marshmallow on Mar 11, 2018 8:04:24 GMT -6
Ilchymis skirted around a debris pile, slowing only long enough to register that the cat-thing had skidded to a halt and turned on its heel. In the same instant as it launched itself after him, the construct twisted and darted away.
This was good. As long as the thing was focused on him, it wasn't harming Sohl, and that was what mattered. A light of hope glimmered against the rising darkness of his mind. If he could keep the hunter's attention, draw it away from Sohl for long enough... His wards would keep Sohl safe, even now working slowly to heal and cleanse him of whatever toxin had induced his comatose state - if it was such a thing at all. Ilchymis just needed to evade this strange hunter and then circle back for Sohl, then they could run.
He kept his thoughts focused on that goal. Fight. You have the power to end this now. It was the only thing keeping his fears from boiling over into true terror. Just let go. The sound of its footsteps and bestial snarl put an extra burst of speed into his sprint.
Stop running! Fight it! Kill it!
His jaw clenched. Ignoring the thorns, thoughts racing, Ilchymis fled the rubble-strewn courtyard for the cover of the factory structure itself. An open doorway had partly collapsed, and the opening now was only just wide enough for his slender frame. He dived through it without so much as a pause. Perhaps it could buy him time...
Nope.
With a fanfare of splintering rubble and feral snarls, the feline simply barreled right through the decaying stonework. It was hot on his heels, eyes wide and teeth bared, looking more like a monster than a soldier. It was a terrifying sight, but what drew the strangled yelp from his throat wasn't fear - it was the lancing pain of claws tearing furrows into his wing, scattering blood and feathers across the concrete. He stumbled, but kept his footing and managed to pull out of the hunter's reach.
Before it could take another swipe at him, Ilchymis spun to face his pursuer. Magic flared in his open palm, and his eyes squinted shut fractions of a second before the spell unleashed. Brilliant, blindingly white light burst into being and filled the narrow entry space. For several retina-searing seconds, the light radiated from a single focal point immediately in front of the beastly soldier, obscuring all else.
Without missing a beat, Ilchymis used those precious seconds of distraction to turn and flee into the tangled depths of the old factory. Recalling Sohl's warnings about the dangers of the ruined building's interior, full of twisted metal and fallen supports, the construct sought the cover of deep shadows and rusting machinery to hide and gather his wits. Spatters of blood and shards of glass marked the trail of his retreat for several paces, until the wound hardened and sealed.
Like his opponent, Ilchymis discarded his shoes in order to quiet his steps in this jungle of brick and metal. The only light in this building was what filtered through the few small windows, high above the factory floor, so the shadows were many and long and deep. Guided by the voiceless whispers of the spirit that shadowed his steps, Ilchymis weaved his way between broken, leaning machines and rubble and fallen catwalks with barely any pause.
As the pain of his wounded wing faded, a new discomfort made itself known. Tension and pain burned in his chest. It felt like brambles had tangled his heart and lungs, and were beginning to squeeze. He was not built to run. You are weak.
Clutching a hand to his chest, making a concentrated effort to control his breathing, Ilchymis hid himself in the lee of a monolithic machine deep inside the crumbling building. Part of it had rusted and collapsed, providing an overhang that he crouched beneath. And there he waited, quietly catching his breath and trying to soothe the painful spasms in his chest. Waited, and listened, and hoped this thing couldn't see too well in the dark.
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Post by tsukikoko on Mar 15, 2018 11:03:46 GMT -6
At the sight of splattered red across the stonework and dripping off her claws, Viktoria felt a familiar swell of bloodlust. It made her nostrils flare, her heart rate quicken and her pupils swell. In the case of that latter point, her body’s reactions did not work in her favour. While pulling in as much light and information as possible would usually be advantageous in a hunting scenario, as the winged one turned, palm extended and eyes scrunched shut, Viktoria soon found out just how detrimental her large pupils would be.
A flash of brilliant white light soon filled the feline’s vision and though her pupils shrank to near pinpricks within half a second, she was still left completely blind. She had been caught by a trick near identical to the one Aaron had pulled on her; robbed of her sight yet again by a ploy of explosive light. It was enough to earn a snarl of frustration and a reeling swipe of her claws that carved through empty air. But though the irritation seared her chest, Viktoria forced down any subsequent growls, instead swivelling her ears and widening her nostrils to track her quarry’s escape attempt. Though she could not see for the next few moments, she still strode after the winged one - admittedly at a far slower pace than before so as to avoid colliding too hard with anything in her path. She might not be able to see him, but she could still smell his blood, hear the frantic pattering of his footsteps.
However, her prey was not stupid. After a few moments, the distinct patter of shoes over concrete became muffled and soft. He had switched to bare feet.
The scarred feline blinked the last spots of light from her eyes and continued to pursue what trail her quarry had left her; the blood splatters had noticeably faded after a few paces and the scent lessened considerably - too fast and a concealment of scent far too good to have been done by hand with a strip of material. Another with some kind of healing ability perhaps? No matter, Viktoria still had enough information to know the winged one had fled into the ruined carcass of what appeared to be an old factory. She could have left him, turned around and headed back for Sohl. But the shimmering barrier remained at the front of her mind; she might not be able to break it, but she could certainly try to break the one who had created it. With that in mind, she soon followed suit into the ruin. Shredded metal littered the interior; pieces of old equipment, fallen catwalks, decayed, abandoned materials and a few fallen support beams from the ceiling high above created a veritable maze in the building’s interior. The muscled humanoid took a moment to pause, allowing her pupils to once again expand and filter what light was available to her recently scorched retina. She was cautious, aware that again she was vulnerable to her prey’s version of a flashbang. But she could not deny the advantage given to her by her cat-like eyes; where the factory had been bathed in swathes of blackness just a few seconds previously, now it lay bare for her to see, greyscale but nearly as detailed as daylight.
She huffed, looked around. Acted as though she did not know where to follow, when in fact that was far from the truth. She knew, if not the exact location of the winged humanoid, at least a fair approximation.
When she moved, Viktoria’s trajectory was adjacent to where she believed her quarry to be, sending her up a half-collapsed flight of steps that she deliberately creaked with her weight. Let the magic-user think she was going the wrong way… Aside from the occasional thump or creak of her feet over the second ‘floor’ walkways that soon faded into nothingness, only grating metal, falling apart at the seams, stirred in the deadness of the factory. Ilchymis was left to cower in the dark.
He was almost certainly unaware that Viktoria could see him.
Heavy, suffocating silence pressed in, stretching over what might have been seconds, minutes or any other time besides. No soldier appeared to attack him, no looming figure emerged from the darkness, fangs glinting from peeled lips. There was only silence. So much so, Ilchymis might even believe he had evaded the feline; there had been no sound from her in some time, nothing to say she had gotten closer. But, equally, nothing to say she had gotten further away either. Was she perhaps waiting, in the darkness, for him to move? Further seconds ticked by, still nothing happe-
From above, in a shrieking of dying metal and the rushing of air over a large body, a massive figure, silhouette blocking out what little light filtered down, hit the ground just in front of the winged humanoid. Her landing shattered the quiet of the dark with a tremendous thud and the next second a clawed hand slammed into the overhanging machine Ilchymis cowered beneath. A beastial snarl rumbled forth as Viktoria reached for her quarry with her other hand and when her mouth opened the whiteness of her teeth stood in wet, stark contrast to the blackness of her body’s silhouette. “No morrrre rrrunning.”
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Post by Marshmallow on Apr 11, 2018 1:53:27 GMT -6
In the dark, Ilchymis waited and listened. Slowly the pains in his chest eased, and the creak of something moving through the factory's twisted innards faded to silence. Though the fallen machine provided cover and the comfort of something at his back, Ilchymis felt no safer. This being, this bizarre soldier hunting him was strong and capable. The voice of something like intuition warned him that this was no typical hunter and to be wary. He should keep still, keep quiet, and wait for the most opportune moment to make his escape.
Yet as the rush of his earlier desperation faded, and the sounds of his pursuer were replaced by a heavy, tense quiet, Ilchymis began to grow unsettled. Half-blind in the gloomy darkness, the construct rapidly began to regret his decision to seek refuge here.
It was the dark. Even in the best of times, even on the calmest nights, Ilchymis did not like being in the dark alone. It frightened him more than any beast or savage hunter ever could. For when there was nothing to see, the mind conjured images of its own, and the things he saw in the darkness were... unsettling. Indistinct shapes in the environment warped into dreadful things at the edges of his vision, twisting and lurching as though alive until he turned to face them and force the shapes to resolve themselves back into something mundane and lifeless.
It was a creeping thing, seeping through the cracks in his psyche and planting thorns. Fear, paranoia. The sensation of being watched, the impression of talons poised just out of view, ready to clamp down and tear him apart. He felt it at the fringes of perception and pressing in. A sensation of thorns, a venomous voice that was growing harder to ignore.
It's still out there.
It will find you.
It will kill you.
And then it will take him. And there will be nothing you can do to stop it.
You need me.
It was louder in the dark. It was more persistent in the dark. It knew he was afraid and it pressed on that fear. Ilchymis closed his eyes, but that did nothing to banish the curling shadows from his vision.
Don't fight it. You're too weak.
Give it up.
You can't hide forever.
The endless, awful silence was abruptly rent by the shriek of rusted metal. Ilchymis' heart leapt in his chest as the massive shape of the hunter landed with a heavy impact before him. Rows of jagged teeth gleamed white in the darkness, and a clawed hand struck the toppled machine that had sheltered him. He didn't hear her snarled words. A yelp of shock and terror had ripped itself from his throat, though the cry cut itself off prematurely in a strangled sound. Pressure, pain and terror flared all at once, violently jarring something loose inside him, and when he moved it was not by his own will or thought.
The reaction was automatic and instantaneous. His hands were up before he even realized they had moved. Magic rushed through him, this time accompanied by a muted, bloody glow beneath his clothing. It burned like an acid in his veins, but Ilchymis' whine of pain was stifled.
A shining wave lurched forth from the construct's raised hands, a pulse of raw force that violently shoved at any and all objects before him. Metal screamed, concrete cracked and clouds of dust and debris were cast high and far. So close to the epicenter, there was nowhere for the feline soldier to escape the wave. She, too, was launched, affording the construct a little breathing room. The magic looked different than it had previously: A sick crimson had bled into the pale opal light, and turned the leading crest of the shockwave into lines of jagged thorns. It was meant for more than pushing the hulking warrior out of the way; it was meant to do harm in the process, to dig in and cut and burn, like shards of glass across one's skin.
In the wake of the wave, Ilchymis slumped forward as though he were about to collapse. For a heartbeat, the construct's body hung limp in the air like he was suspended on invisible strings. Then he slowly drew himself upright. Ribbons of scarlet light slithered out from beneath his right shoulder like charmed serpents, waving hypnotically through the air while darkened eyes pinned the soldier with an empty stare.
The sudden shock of his enemy's appearance combined with the mounting fears and instinctive reactions to change something within the construct. A crack in his mental defenses wide enough to allow another's influence to rush through and assert itself over his consciousness. Now something else stood boldly where Ilchymis had once cowered in hiding. Now something else flexed his hands and split his pale face with a too-wide grin. In the brief, hollow silence that followed the wave, there was only the patter of crumbling stone, a ragged breath, and a twisted, terrible laugh.
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Post by tsukikoko on Apr 30, 2018 9:09:08 GMT -6
When the construct raised his hands, when a sickly glow burned from beneath his clothes, Viktoria responded not through logical thought, but an instinctive knowing; sharper and more reactive. The soldier had not survived this long on training and strength alone.
Her arms came up, crossing in front of her face and chest just as the crest of the wave struck. Grey skin, thick and rough though it was, soon became laced with cuts and hair-thin slices. Not dissimilar to the times she had crashed through a window. More pertinent, however, was the fact her feet left the floor and she was rather spectacularly thrown backwards. With only a short grunt as a heavy breath was shunted from her lungs, Viktoria twisted in midair with a dexterity that belied her size. If anyone doubted the cat heritage in her hybrid genetics, they would not have in that moment.
One hand reached out to grab the edge of a dusty workbench just below her trajectory. Metal and bolted to the floor. As she came into contact and her momentum came to a rather abrupt halt, the scarred feline felt an uncomfortable jarring sensation in her shoulder. It went ignored. She flung herself atop the bench, clawed hands gripping the edge while her hulking silhouette crouched in the darkness and watched her opponent.
Assess.
Complete shift in demeanor. Likely cause: split personality. Current abilities unknown. Stamina and resilience unknown. Re-engage, gather information. Adapt.
Viktoria launched herself forward a moment later, apparently not cowed by her foe's recent show of strength. Her attack had a purpose - not giving her opponent time to breathe, to see how quickly the winged one could recover, or whether they would use a different ability in response to her charge. The time for stealth and using the cover of darkness would come later, once she had ascertained more about the construct's recovery time. Though she covered ground quickly, the feline did not sprint in a completely straight line; she weaved at random moments, enough to at least provide her some chance to dodge a retaliation, should she need to.
If able to close the distance, Viktoria's large fist rose in a short, sharp backhand at the side of the winged one's head. From the size of her muscles and the ease at which she had thrown rubble around earlier in their altercation, it was clear the scarred humanoid's blow would land with no small amount of power behind it, if it hit at all.
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Post by Marshmallow on May 11, 2018 0:30:11 GMT -6
The hulking soldier charged, and the possessed construct spread his arms in open welcome of the challenge. His eyes tracked the feline's erratic, weaving movements as the distance between them became less and less. The jagged, crimson rings of his irises seemed to swell right along with that sick mockery of a grin. Gone was the fear that had driven Ilchymis' flight and softened his attacks. Replacing it was a twisted glee, a madness that had turned a shaking sob into cracking laughter.
He stood his ground. Blood-hued markings flared bright upon Ilchymis' skin as magic pulsed, raw and powerful, within the deceptively frail body. It tapped into reserves Ilchymis himself had kept carefully closed off, for it lacked the former's measured control and pacifist nature. It forced new strength into the slender limbs and light frame. The air around the construct grew heavy and charged with energy, flickers of bloody light crackling like a static discharge.
In fleeting seconds, the soldier had closed the gap. A fist swept toward those dark, unblinking eyes and an unflinching expression.
The strike was not so devastating as it may have been on Ilchymis alone. This entity had no fear and no sense of pain. It simply crumpled back, allowing its borrowed body to rag-doll and disperse the force of the blow. And then, like some horrid marionette from the deepest of nightmares, the slender body twisted and rolled. Limbs and ribbons moved as though they each had their own independent consciousness as the body turned force into momentum. He rolled away from the backhand in a possessed tangle. In a flash, the Not-Ilchymis was drawing itself upright again some paces back, with a newly bloodied lip and a spreading, cracking bruise upon its face. But still no sign of fear or pain.
"Was that all?" a distorted set of voices called mockingly. His head tilted sharply to one side, almost bird-like in its curiosity. "Do it again. Come. Play with me."
If the warrior continued to press the attack - as he assumed she would - she would find the second attempt he was far less passive. Viktoria was not the only one to observe and adapt. The spirit was as curious as it was bloodthirsty. How would she move? What would she do? How much damage could she take? How easily could he break her?
The next time she lunged to close the distance, a response would be thrown to meet her.
With a downward sweep of his arms, the magic that had been collecting erupted. Great crescent blades of energy coalesced and swept forward, cutting a swath of destruction through the factory. Four of those terrible, crackling blades - each the height of a man, but no thicker than a knife - carved through stone and metal in wide, erratic sweeps. They moved unpredictably, from mid-air twists and abrupt turns, to sudden rising arcs that brought them crashing back down again. With every surface they sliced or smashed, they shed some of their magic. Though they shrank with every impact, the corrupted energy that was left seeping and hissing in their wake slowly eroded every bit of matter they touched like acid.
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Post by tsukikoko on May 14, 2018 14:42:02 GMT -6
Viktoria had gathered a number of valuable pieces of information on her opponent, even in the short span of time their altercation had lasted thus far. For one, blunt physical punishment did not phase them much - whether the damage was ignored or simply deflected did not matter immensely, the outcome was the same - and for another, the nature of their abilities had shifted dramatically. Explosively. Intimidation also no longer seemed a valid tactic, thus the snarl from Viktoria's face, her show of teeth, had vanished. Replaced by a stonewall of determined focus.
When her opponent began to tear up her surroundings, the scarred feline did not flinch, no fear or surprise showed on her features. She shifted her weight onto one leg and used her charging momentum to swing out of the way, watching as a bladed arc curved past her, scoring an ominous line into the floor and machinery beyond. Better that than her chest, judging by the corrosion already setting in.
Emerald eyes, alert and calm in the wake of such a display, darted between each blade as the humanoid moved. Her body pivoted and dodged, in a manner that might have looked effortless, yet was underlain with the knowledge that if she were to be struck directly, she would die. Viktoria knew this, could tell from the damage created around her. But she was not afraid, nor did she hesitate. The humanoid knew where she needed to be, had scoped the area even before she jumped down to scare the winged one and her trajectory took her towards that goal.
With sliding skid that took her beneath one blade, the feline moved past a scattering of discarded metal. She was not idle in her movement. One arm reached out as she passed, snatched for the metal. As her feet planted both hands gripped a cold edge and she spun to face her adversary's attack. A crackling arc came down, Viktoria threw up the metal before herself. It was thin, barely more than a sheet, but the fraction of protective deflection it leant her gave the feline chance to better ground herself, prepare for another charge.
She flung the corroding metal aside before it could touch her and surged towards the winged one once again. A broken length of metal pipe had caught her eye in the melee, sheered off from above by the wild swings of destructive energy. But as she ran, another erractic slice appeared in her periphery. The feline dove without thinking, something glanced over the back of one leg, began to burn down the length. But her course was set now, to hesitate meant annihilation.
Viktoria's hand found the smooth, circular metal as she came in to a breakfall roll; at the weight of it in her hands, the vision of what she was about to do and the pain flaring in her leg, a spike of excitement and adrenaline shot straight up the feline's spine and into the back of her skull. As she rose, green eyes were alight with a savage eagerness, tinged with a roiling fury that burned just beneath the surface, barely contained. Her muscles rippled as she drew the improvised weapon back and curled a second hand around it. She could see him moving, coming for her in what might have seemed like a moment of weakness on her part. The feline held it low, hip height, like a bowstaff or polearm. Then, driving up with both legs and thrusting her hips forward into the pivot, Viktoria used her own momentum and sheer power to swing the metal in an arc towards the winged one's body, just as she watched it lunge for her.
While blunt force trauma might bother him little, that didn't stop the slim super weighing very little; or at least, that was the summation she came to. With her aim for just above his hip, she hoped to send her opponent flying.
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Post by Marshmallow on Aug 22, 2018 8:41:36 GMT -6
They were both on the move. The soldier to avoid certain death and close the distance, and the chaotic being to flank her for a more direct attack. After that first sweep of the scarlet crescents, he had abandoned direct control of the spell. The magic was left to fling wide and wild, carving deadly destruction through the empty factory of its own accord until the blades spent their energy and dispersed. Every rip, tear and impact crater left by the whorl of magic blades continued to smolder with sick crimson light. These lingering stains of chaotic magic continued to seep and corrode at every furrow and ragged edge, quickly turning the old factory's dusty skeleton into a mangled hellscape.
Dark eyes followed the muscular shape vaulting and rolling through the wreckage, intent on closing the distance in spite of the wild magic that threatened to slice her open with every pass. The precision and determination with which his opponent navigated the wreckage and avoided being cut to ribbons could be considered impressive, were he of a mind to be impressed.
The gap between them was rapidly shrinking. Two predators, each trying to out-maneuver the other. A blade carved the soldier's leg, she dropped and rolled, and his course abruptly shifted. An opening he could take advantage of, a moment where her eyes were not upon him. Bones and flesh cracked and shifted as magic surged, morphing Ilchymis' fingers into long, sickle claws of stone and horrid magic. Raw magic crackled between the marble talons, still slick with the construct's own blood from the change, as he lunged for the attack-
And was met by the brutal swing of a steel pipe. The crack of metal meeting flesh, meeting bone, echoed in the twisted ruin. The stolen body, still so light and frail no matter what shapes he twisted it into, bent sharply at the point of impact. It was only too easy for someone of Viktoria's strength to send that fragile form sailing across the vast factory floor.
The shock of the first impact was only matched by the jarring crash of the second, when the construct struck the concrete and rolled, sliding to a halt among the smoldering wreck of old machinery. Clothing tatters and glass shards littered the path his landing cut through the grime and debris. With a gurgling hiss of a breath and a wheezing cry, the possessed construct struggled to right himself. When he did pull his puppet back to its feet, the movement was stiff, stilted. Like some parts just... weren't bending the way they should anymore. The singular wing - already wounded and brittle - had been broken completely. Part of the limb had shattered with the impact, and the rest of it hung twisted and limp at his back. Shards of glass cracked and flaked away with every breath. And despite it all, the sick entity still warped its host's face into a mocking grin.
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Post by tsukikoko on Sept 10, 2018 5:15:18 GMT -6
As it turned out, Viktoria's assumption about her opponent's weight had been the correct one. At the impact from her improvised weapon he sailed through the air, collided with some nearby rubble and came to a rather ungainly stop some distance away. Even as the construct began to push himself to his feet she was moving on him again, not wanting to give him an inch now that she had managed to strike him. The feline was well aware of her disadvantage at range; she had no distance weapon save the rifle loaded with sedative and that only had two shots left, not really an option. Whereas he clearly had ablities that could strike her from afar, given the blades she had been dodging up until a few moments ago.
Pipe still in hand, she closed the distance. As her opponent's grinning, twisted face rose, she struck him across the head. If his expression and malciousness bothered her any, it did not show in Viktoria's face. Any human would have been struck cold by such a blow, it was very clear at this point, however, that her opponent was far from human. Sure enough, he did not go down and she brought the arc of her swing around for another blow.
Something caught her arm.
By all accounts, it looked like a ribbon, long and winding around her limb to prevent her striking the winged one again. A searing burn took root in her skin not a second later, eating away at the flesh even as she looked at it. Whatever this was, she needed to dislodge it. Quickly. With a swipe of her other arm, the scarred feline brought her claws down through the ribbon, tearing through it with deadpan, determined urgency. She could not afford to lose a limb, it would hamper her fighting abilities too much. Her talons met resistance she had not been certain would be there and after a moment of effort, she cleaved through the ribbon. In the same beat of her heart Viktoria put a step of distance between the two of them and moved sideways on the balls of her feet, not wanting to be stationary and directly in front of her opponent. The remnants of his attack continued to burn for another few seconds, before fading away to nothing.
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Post by Marshmallow on Oct 2, 2018 22:22:07 GMT -6
Bone cracked under the impact of the pipe. Blood and stone shards splattered across the floor, a fresh wound had been carved from the construct's body - a dreadful gash across his scalp, one which would likely have felled any normal mortal. The cruel grin twisted into a grimace. Though the Other felt no pain, the shock to his host still made the stolen body spasm.
The feline angled for another strike with the pipe, but this time he was ready. One of the crimson ribbons that rose from his back snapped forward like a striking serpent and tangled itself around her arm. It tightened and pulled with surprising force to prevent the coming blow. But before he could capitalize on the opening made for himself, the super soldier's claws cleaved through the ethereal streamer.
This time he felt it. Pain. Raw and sharp, the sensation lanced through the length of the severed ribbon, and a wordless sound of pain and rage clawed its way from the construct's throat. Dark eyes were wide, swirling irises constricted as he pinned the feline with a death glare.
The damaged ribbon recoiled tight against his body, curling upon itself like a wounded animal. In the same instant, the remaining three lurched forward with vengeful speed. Two sought to entangle her legs, while the third swept for her face to muzzle and blind.
While he could not match his opponent's raw brute strength, he pushed the advantage of his mobility and speed, and his multiple effective limbs. Slow her down, distract, attack from multiple angles. Dropping into a low stance, the construct lunged with corrosive claws outstretched. He swung up under her guard, swiping the long sickle claws diagonally from her hip toward her shoulder.
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Post by tsukikoko on Nov 28, 2018 8:06:07 GMT -6
As soon as it registered on its face, in the sound of its voice, Viktoria knew. She had hurt it. Another point of assessment, a brief flicker of emerald eyes to the remaining tendrils, their locations and origin. Then the feline was leaping away, refocusing on the attacks coming her way. The height she attained was impressive, her feet clearing not only the ground but a good few feet into the air. One tendril missed her leg completely, but the other wrapped around her ankle. Almost immediately there was the same tugging strength, threatening to pull the humanoid out from under herself. If she wound up on her back, she'd be at a distinct disadvantage, potentially fatally so. Thus, quick as a striking snake, Viktoria lashed out with her free leg as gravity took her back over, claws extending from the tips of her toes. A flash of heat, like boiling water in a pan, before the claws of her feet tore through the burning tendril.
Not that she could stop after that. Another winding tendril, aimed straight for her face. Given the damage she'd already witnessed and felt, if those ribbons connected with her eyes, she would be finished. Her hearing and sense of smell were excellent, but she could not afford to be blinded. A blind combat asset was a worthless asset. She lurched back, bending at the hips to get her face clear, closing her eyelids very briefly to protect her eyes. While necessary, doing so meant she was unable to dodge effectively. The tendril wound around her neck, immediately burning into her flesh. Both eyes snapped open again, in time to see the creature lunging for her from below, claws outstretched. The carbon fibre of her chestplate took the brunt of the strike, shielding her chest, but still Viktoria felt searing heat and pain lance across her nerves from both hip and shoulder. Rage surged against the floodgates of her control, making her pupils teeter, a snarling puff of breath escaping her nostrils and lips.
Yet she maintained control. She wasn't so far gone as to fall back on unrestrained ferocity, not just yet.
Even so, a measure of that wild savagery leeched through Viktoria's self-imposed barrier. Her lips pulled back to reveal bared fangs and rather than trying to escape the construct's hold, the scarred feline lashed out with a short, sharp jab to her opponent with a closed fist. While backed up with the tremendous strength the humanoid possessed, her punch was more a split second reaction to the construct's slashing attack than anything specifically aimed to damage it. A horse kicking out at a person walking behind it.
Her follow up, however, was far more planned. She grabbed hold of the tendril round her neck with both hands. The skin of Viktoria's hands began to burn, but the pain and damage went unheeded as she planted both feet. The ribbon pulled taut, she felt the weight of her opponent at the other end. Then, the scarred feline began to swing, aiming to lift the construct off it's feet, using rotational momentum and the counterweight of her own body to build up speed with her impromptu hammer toss-like creation. She intended to smash her foe into whatever rubble came her way once she had it at decent speed, the floor if she had to.
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Post by Marshmallow on Jan 3, 2019 8:27:35 GMT -6
Pain rippled through another torn tendril. The destruction spirit howled in rage, though the cry was cut short by Viktoria's quick, reactive jab. The blow was fast, short, sharp, knuckles impacting the slender construct's chest. Damage was minimal, and sparked a reflexive counterattack. Another hissing furrow was clawed into Viktoria's tactical vest by the thing's corrosive marble talons.
And then, tension. Pressure at his back, pinching, pulling taut. Viktoria had taken hold of the ribbon at her throat and leveraged her greater bulk and power. The construct dug in his heels, trying to resist, but the soldier was stronger. The world became a blur as the spirit's fragile puppet was hauled off its feet and swung through the air like a toy.
Glancing blows against rubble and scrap rocked the frail body, kicking clouds of dust and shrapnel into the air. The wrath spirit tried to sink his claws into the fleeting mounds of concrete and machine parts, straining his host's reach to the limit in vain to slow his momentum and take back control. In desperation, the ribbon tightened its grip. Like a snake caught in the jaws of a predator, the burning tendril squeezed tighter around the feline's neck. It constricted, trying to cut off her airways, choke her out, make her stop her assault. Bloody runes flared brightly across Ilchymis's skin, and the air grew heavy and charged with the pulse of powerful magic.
A resounding CRASH echoed through the ruined factory, as the brutal hammer-swing ended in a jarring impact against the side of a crumpled machine. The crumbling walls quaked with the force of it, shaking curtains of dust and detritus from the swaying catwalks above.
The impact jarred something deep inside, pressure and shock rattling the fragile core in its setting. The construct's body came to rest limp, lifeless, doll-like against the old machine. Fresh blood welled through spreading cracks in the frail body.
Silence.
The choking hold of the ribbons vanished as the crimson streamers lost cohesion and became incorporeal, flickering in and out of existence like static. Smoldering runes faded to a dull glow. One eye was missing, part of the doll's head had been crushed by the terrible blow. The other eye was empty, staring blankly into the ether.
And then, with a spasm and a rasping intake of breath, life seemingly returned. Sickly red light flowed, gleaming in seething patterns across marbled limbs. The ribbons bloomed, fresh and bright, once more from Ilchymis' back, and the damaged body hauled itself upright defiantly.
He wasn't dead yet.
Magic surged, and the air around them became charged, warping and rippling like a heat haze. With a raised gesture of his hands, the broken mage summoned an array of brightly glowing orbs. Sized no larger than a baseball each, radiating crackling auras of chaotic power, there were first a handful. Then a dozen. And then more, and more still, popping into existence and hanging in the air like mines. In a matter of seconds, they filled the factory interior with their ominous light.
The broken face twisted, somewhere between a grin and a sneer. "Just... Die..." the voices seethed, echoing in split tones that seemed almost robotic with the amount of distortion. Stone talons flexed, and one by one, in a rapid and terrible cascade effect, the dozens of magical grenades began to detonate. He'd bring the entire structure down on them both if he had to, and the cascade seemed primed to do exactly that!
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Post by tsukikoko on Jan 20, 2019 7:22:07 GMT -6
Had Viktoria succumbed to the grips of battle rage, had she been unable to keep control of the fury thrumming a dangerous beat within her veins, it wouldn't have mattered how many explosive spheres had appeared, she would have charged for the construct nonetheless. But she was in control, able to see the unfolding situation with a tactical mind and the forethought to realise, as soon as the first magical grenade exploded, she would do no good remaining in the building through what was about to occur. There were easily enough spheres to bring the building down, should they all explode - which they were certainly about to do.
She would be unable to complete her objectives, should she die here or be grievously injured.
A window nearby, the closest avenue of escape. As the cascade of detonations began, Viktoria turned and sprinted away from her opponent. The distance was nothing, her speed easily powering her across it within seconds. In a burst of shattering glass, the feline dove through the window and the building promptly exploded behind her.
But, contrary to popular media assertions, leaping away from an explosion and the shower of debris created from a collapsing building was not a simple case of being flung a small distance from the shockwave, rolling for a while and clambering back to one's feet with nothing more than a few bruises. Though Viktoria escaped what would have been almost certain death, or at least loss of limb and seared retinas, the resulting blast of energy not only punched her insides with enough force to risk organ rupture, two separate pieces of brick collided with her body and catapulted the feline into a tailspin of limbs that had her bouncing of the ground not half a second later. She rolled and slid heavily across the ground, coming to rest in the dirt with a rather large series of skid marks and dents in her wake.
But to stay on the ground was to die. She had to move.
As she pushed herself to her feet, the first real, uncontrolled snarl peeled out from behind Viktoria's bared fangs. Control teetered alongside her rapidly swelling pupils, until the black came to encompass all but the slimmest ring of emerald. Her neck throbbed, the skin raw and burned in a circular line as though she had been recently hung by a noose made of white hot metal. She'd lost hearing in one ear, a trickle of blood sliding down the side of her face from a burst eardrum. Amongst the smaller cuts and bruises, there was a highly unpleasant physical sensation radiating out from Viktoria's thigh and shoulder, a pounding, excruciating pain that spoke of broken, potentially shattered bones. Attempting to move her arm and put weight on her left leg cemented the damage she had sustained; her leg threatened to buckle beneath her, the mobility of her arm was very limited and accompanied by the crunch of bone sliding over snapped bone when it very much should not. However, rather than become paralysed by the pain, her suffering only fuelled the rage pulsing within Viktoria's core. It flared, swept over her with a hefty dose of adrenaline, a fierce and writhing presence that swamped her nerves and allowed her to function even in the face of such damage.
She turned towards the rubble, face contorted into an expression of animal savagery barely on the fringes of sanity. Despite the ominous crunching of misaligned bone in her leg, the scarred feline was clearly ready to fight - hands raised, claws extended, stance firm in the face of diminishing agony as it faded below the rising, seething tide. Her maw opened.
Viktoria bellowed her challenge.
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