The Honor Circle Returns! (IC)

[SpottedKitty]

Lying in a crumpled heap in a corner of the fake bar, fake-Andrace would have definitely seen better days if she'd been in existence longer than half an hour. Every part of her body, from ears to paws and tail-tip, hurt. She wasn't out of the fight yet, though: she just needed a little more time to catch her breath after that sucker-punch...

The tremendous blast of wind nearby distracted her for a moment, then she saw a familiar figure tumble across the room and go splat on the floor not far away. The canine Demon, and he definitely looked the worse for wear. This was a great chance to take down a particularly obstinate and annoying opponent. Ignoring her aches and pains as much as she could, the lioness rolled suddenly to a crouch. She took as deep a breath as her straining lungs and battered stomach could manage, and lunged forward to the attack with a deafening, bloodthirsty roar, claws out and fangs bared in a vicious snarl. As she screamed and leaped, she thought she could hear an echo of her roar, off to one side...

[Lisky]

Ed watched the bolts turn on him as he was yanked forward.  He was unsure if it was a reflect spell or, if the angel had merely copied his spell and reciprocated in kind.  Either way, Ed had no time to decipher the Angel's movements as he was yanked forward.  It was a blessing in disguise, for, although the Cubi did start to loose his balance, he managed to recover, the move also sent him well clear of where the thin shafts of shadow impacted, sending geysers of snowy powder high in the Air.

Ed moved closer, he felt his tentacles being knocked out of the way, and figured he'd try something new.  The tentacle Laertes held started to shudder, it pulsed, writhed, then, seemingly split in half, in fact, every tentacle that was around the angel had split, where once was 4, now were 8, The one in Laerte's hand tried wrapping itself around the angel's arm, while the new one right next to it made a move for the angel's abdomen.  Three of the remaining tentacles attempted to wrap themselves around the angel.  The other three made an attempt to grab the shaft of the great Scythe... If he couldn't pierce the shield on his own accord, perhaps using the Angel's own weapon against him could prove useful.

Ed also seemed to dance his way closer to the area the angel was... the closer he got, the more tentacles he'd have available.


**********

In the fake bar, Bas continued his rather jerky swagger as the dull aches and pains continued to protest his movements.  He watched with a sense of morbid fascination as the lioness came in at a full sprint and pounced at him.  Pain or not, the fresh surge of adrenaline in the demon's system was enough to get him moving at full speed in a way that showed none of his injuries.  He roared back at the lioness as she pounced. 

He started to move his left wing into her path, however, just before it came into her reach it bolted back, in it's place, a fully hardened fist, coming in an uppercut, aimed at about where the end of her rib cage should be when the 2 would impact. 

Bas shrugged off the fact that his body was going to be coming into contact with those rather sharp and vicious looking teeth and claws in favor of, what, in his mind, should be a quick end to hostilities.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt raised his head as the cry of "Oi! Heads up!" echoed ahead of an incoming body. Taking a half step to his left, he grinned evilly, dropped the shattered remains of the chair, half turned, and raised his right paw up and out, bracing himself.

As Marya arrived, her paw slammed into his, and, gripping firmly around her arm, he whipped around in a tight circle, spinning the mongoose around his mass and sending her flying back in the direction she came from.

As she slipped from his grasp, he continued the spin, converting it into a sideways roll behind a table, snatching up another bent barstool on his way; the previous ones had been so useful. As a side effect, it dodged the incoming lioness neatly. He flicked the table with his shoulder, providing himself with cover, and grabbed it, providing himself with yet another makeshift shield.

And with that in hand, he waded into the fray.

[Boog]

The Marya in the bar took a few seconds to get what was going on, but the real one could tell from a distance and was already laughing as her duplicate was flung back towards her assailant. The fake barked out a hasty "thanks!" and grinned as she was sent right back at the demonic-lookin' bugger, already taking a swing at some lioness.
"Rktktktktktktktktkt!"
The trajectory of the throw took her a little past the demon, which was quite fine by her. The mongoose let the momentum of the throw carry her into a slide across the remains of someone's beer, sending her under a nearby table, which she flipped in front of her and lifted as she stood up.
Conventional minds see one use for one object. Creative minds see multiple uses for one object. Marya was often mistaken for a conventional mind but, really, to her there was only ONE real use for anything you pick up in a barfight.
With another chittering battlecry, table held ahead of her to provide mass and deflect oncoming projectiles, the fake Marya charged at the fake Bas.

In the real bar, Marya was still laughing. "Remind me to buy that man a drink when he gets out, Rich'. That was fuckin' BEAUTIFUL."
"Sure..." Richard replied absentmindedly, taking another sip of what he was drinking.

--

Big Bad shrieked once, in what sounded like fear with a mortified edge. Like the most extreme reaction to being goosed short of actual violence. Houses shook and tumbled, sending people fleeing. Most were getting away okay, staggering their way into cars and speeding off as the buildings came down...
The man leaped through the window of the house he'd been hiding in as it began to tilt and crumble, snarl onwavering as he tried to advance on her over the rolling terrain.
"What have you DONE!?" The gun wasn't there, just the machete, but he didn't seem to be thinking clearly. "My people! My HOME! What have you DONE!?"

--

Boog stepped into the circle with Arryo, worrisome smile still firmly in place.
"So, weather effects. Where do I know that has extremes of weather... Ah" The Boogeyman grinned and gestured to the circle, smoke already rising from the edges of it.
"Got it."
The smoke grew thicker, forming a roiling mass of fog. Pretty soon it was impossible to see in or out of the circle...
When it cleared Arryo was standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier. It was night, the air was still, and past the planes and the edge of the boat there was just blue-black water as far as the eye could see.
The Boogeyman was nowhere to be seen.
A thought dropped into Arryo's head, with all the clarity of the sound of a penny dropped into a pond. Just a simple, expectant "Well?"

[Arroyo Milori]

Arroyo shrugged a bit, he wasn't all impressed. "It will do." He said in such a calm tone. Of course, he knew he was at an advantage. Fogs are usually made of water which ment he could use it in the fight, hopefully.

"Shall we get down to business? Or should we just stand here and lock each other into a monologue and tempt to one shot the whole match while one of us is still in a monologue?" He smiled, readying his sword.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace — the real one — looked as if she didn't know whether to bite her tail in embarrassment or laugh herself sick as she glanced between the fights involving her sister and her duplicate. She'd suspected for some time that Despina might be holding back: she could have finished Witt off half a dozen times already. All her possible attacks had been quite dangerous spells, though: even considering how tough the hedgehog seemed to be, the chance of killing him outright would have been regrettably greater than zero. The younger lioness had gone through the same basic training in non-magical combat as her other sisters and brothers, so she was doing about as well as Andrace expected. As for her duplicate... it was as if she were fourteen years old again, full of teen angst, hormones and at least one bottle of something with a good strong kick. Come to think of it, she'd seen Eugenia (who'd still be fourteen herself for a few more months) fight better than this in the same state...

Andrace — the fake one — saw the canine Demon's fist coming out from behind his wing a fraction of a second before it smashed into her ribs. Her throat clamped shut on an agonised yowl. Her hands and paws swung wildly about, with all her claws extended. The battered lioness slumped to the floor and lay in a heap at the Demon's feet, snorting blood from her nose as she twitched and moaned. She was out cold.

Despina wasn't blindly charging in a berserk rage (that was her sister Zoe's party trick), but she did suddenly realise she was moving too fast to turn abruptly. When Witt ducked to the side, she almost threw herself off balance trying to smack him across the back of the head with her staff. The wild swing missed by a mile. Wood shavings curled up from the floor as she dug her claws in and her paw-pads skidded on the floorboards. The lioness turned and lunged one more time. She really wanted to score just one good solid hit on the prickly little SOB. She muttered a few quiet words, and a red glow flared up around the end of her staff. Witt seemed to like using the furniture as shields and weapons. The small, powerful concussion spell glowed brighter, trailing sparks, as she swung her staff up, over her head, and hurtling down towards her target.

[Lisky]

In the fake bar, Fake Bas was feeling rather sore, not so much tired, but in pain, and not wanting to do much else.  The lioness had managed to run smack into that fist, and the pair collapsed in a heap of limbs, which was fine by Bas.  Leaning against a  couple overturned tables, the demon once again began tending to his injuries.  Finishing with his own healing, he noted the blood coming from the lioness.  Not wanting to take the chance of internal damage, he again applied a healing spell, only rather than outright healing, he began the process slowly, enough that she should wake up and realize that he wasn't trying to hurt her any more.

As if to add to the gesture, a nearly full, and completely undamaged bottle of whiskey was laying just outside his finger-tips... the fake Bas had to ask, while sweeping the bottle under a wing, was the lioness as strong of a drinker as she was a fighter?

[SpottedKitty]

Fake-Andrace barely twitched a whisker. Her slow, steady breathing didn't hesitate, and she still lay in a limp heap on the floor. A thin sliver of her eyes showed for a brief moment, though, from behind her eyelids. The lioness was, if not alert, at least more-or-less conscious again. And she could feel the pain of the splintered ribs puncturing her lung, that had finally knocked her out after that last punch, rapidly fading. She knew the canine Demon was hovering over her. He was healing her? Why? What was he up to? She decided to wait a moment or two more before seeming to wake up. Maybe the Demon would say something to reveal his intentions. If he was about to carry on fighting, well, she still had a few surprises hidden up her sleeve... and inside her belt buckle... and in her underwear...

[Lisky]

In the recreation of the bar, the 'fake' demon felt breaks heal and noted the bruises going down.  He collected a pair of shot glasses off the floor, both still usable, and used a quick cleaning spell to remove the dirt, grime and previous contents.  He carefully set them between fingers on his left hand while pouring the amber liquid from the whiskey bottle, filling each glass.  He capped the bottle, and set it between him and Andrace.  He then whispered in her ear, "I think it's time we made up.  Care for a drink, adventurer?"

[SpottedKitty]

Fake-Andrace's ear twitched, almost brushing the canine Demon's whiskers, at his whisper. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a sly little grin. So, that was his game? Seduce her with a friendly smile and a drink or four? Not this little kitty, she knew how to deal with any optimist who tried that stunt. She sniffed: the stuff in the glasses he'd set out wasn't top quality, but it was far from rotgut. She sat up with a wince and a quiet grunt. That wasn't all for show, several parts of her body she was very fond of still hurt a lot. The lioness hitched up her belt, apparently taking particular care to straighten the buckle, and looked back at the Demon with a confident, almost swaggering air. "Surely y've not had enough o' fightin' already?" she said with a skeptical flirt of her tail. "Heh, I'll not pass up an offer o' a drink, though." Keeping her eyes on the Demon for any sudden moves, she reached and picked up the glass. She didn't drink any, though... yet.

The real Andrace's ears flattened for a moment, and her tail flicked round and whapped lightly against a leg of her stool. "Ah, frig!" she muttered under her breath, glancing from side to side at the other fight-watchers. Her sister's fight was forgotten for a moment. Had any of them noticed, and realised what they'd seen? "Me, y're a silly bint! I know better 'n t' use that stuff when there's folk'll see!" Not for the first time, the lioness wondered just how accurately the Circle made its duplicates of actual people. She knew what was in the hidden compartment behind her belt buckle. Her copy "knew" that as well: the image in the viewing spell had been just big enough for Andrace to notice her duplicate's casual move, slipping her fingertips behind the buckle for a moment. But were her claws now genuinely coated with enough poison to knock out a rampaging Mythos — most kinds, anyway — and keep him out cold for several hours?

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt saw the incoming blow - albeit not very much in advance of it arriving - and moved the table up to block it, while swinging the stool across at knee height. The blow, heavy though it was, would be easily blocked by the weight of the table, leaving the stool to flatten the lioness.

Or so he thought.

The staff hammered downwards, slamming into the tabletop with a heavy, unheard thud. Unheard, because as it landed, the concussion spell went off with an almighty bang, shattering the table and blowing shards into Witt's face and upper body. With his body only partially shielded by his jacket, his muzzle and paws speckled with droplets of blood and embedded splinters, and half-deafened by the retort, he dropped the shattered stump of the table leg and the bent stool, grabbed the staff with one hand, yanking Despina towards himself. His other hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, lifted her from the ground (albeit not very far due to the difference in their height), and attempted to body-slam her into the ground. As hard as he could, four or five times.


By this point, he was utterly fed up with the fight. Damned sneaky magic users...

[Lisky]

The fake Bas grinned back, "Done fighting? Me?! absolutely not... however, at the rate I'm expending energy to keep you alive, and awake, well... i figured a friendly drink and a few moments of a breather would be in order... besides, a challenge like yourself, well... i don't even know your name, being... and the fact that you're holding your own so well against me in unarmed combat is truly commendable."

The demon shrugged as downed the contents of his own shot-glass with a grin.  "And who knows, maybe after killing the rest of this bottle, we'll be on a bit more even footing... i haven't been drunk in ages, or so it feels like."

Flashing a toothy smile he refilled his own glass.

In the real bar, Bas watched as his doppelganger continued flirting with the lioness adventurer, and he did his best to avoid showing signs of his displeasure... for the real Bas found himself concerned with what happened to the duplicate of his black clad, brightly colored friend he was currently sharing a table with... this 'Keaton'.

[SpottedKitty]

Despina's eyes had a gleam of satisfaction as she saw how well her concussion spell worked. She ignored the few splinters that had come her way from the wrecked table and peppered her stomach and thighs. Her triumphal snarl, though, was cut short when Witt grabbed her staff and pulled. She let go and started to lunge backwards, but not before she'd come just a little too close to the hedgehog's other hand. A strangulated cough was the only sound she could make as his clamping grasp immediately shut her windpipe. Her ears lay back, and she brought her hands up to claw at his arm, but

WHAM

All of a sudden the room did a hop, skip and jump and the floor hit her hard between the shoulderblades. Fireworks went off in her vision, and not the pleasant sort.

WHAM

It happened again. A look of sheer fury, tinged with quite a lot of pain, came over the lioness' face. She drew her legs back, claws extended for a gutting kick

WHAM WHAM WHAM

The fourth time the back of her head slammed into the floorboards was quite enough. By the time Witt had finished, Despina flopped loosely in his grasp. Her eyes were wandering in different directions, and a few drops of blood trickled down the side of her muzzle where a fang had nicked her lip. The lioness was out cold.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt was raising the slightly floppy body for another slam at the floor - after all, no point stopping just because they were playing possum, now - when the bar around him faded into a flat, slightly sandy circle, bereft of any of the other combatants.

He paused, lowered the body gently to the ground, and checked that she was still breathing, and, apart from the bruising and concussion, wasn't in any immediate medical risk. Then he sat back, and sighed heavily, breathing hard. He glanced around, then gazed at the apparently peaceful body in front of him. "Shame, really. Some of those others looked like they might be fun to play with. But, a deal is a deal." He blinked, and rubbed his eyes clear, then looked over to his left.

About twenty feet away, neatly stacked, and unbroken, unbent, and apparently unharmed, was his half of a 307 ale, in it's twisty, eye-wateringly bent bottle, and his helmet. Sans dent.

He bent forward, pushed himself off the ground with a grunt, and stumped heavily across to it, one hand caressing the dent still in the back of his head. Bending, he snagged the helmet, and the ale, and turned back to his erstwhile opponent. "Hrm. Well..." he muttered, whilst putting the helmet back on his head, wincing a little as it pressed against swollen area around the aforementioned dent, "I can't take you back inside. If you woke up in there, you'd think we were still on. So..."

He looked at her. He looked at the ale. An evil, evil smirk snuck up onto his face, and he looked back at Despina's resting form.

"No. I couldn't do that. It'd be a waste of a good drink..." So saying, he took a drink, and sauntered towards the bar. "Be good, I'll be right back."


A minute or two later, he sauntered back out, carrying another ale in one hand, and a half-full bucket of water in the other. As an added bonus, he'd managed to snag a few handfuls of ice cubes, which were now merrily bobbing about in there. He sauntered over, saluted her with the bottle, emptied it (into him), then put the bucket down. He carefully adjusted the way she was lying down, turning her on her side so that she wouldn't end up breathing too much of the water. Then he stood up.

He picked up the bucket.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace shifted her attention from one part of the viewer's image to another when she heard a familiar yowl, tinged with a large dose of "whoops". She looked back at the actual fight going on in the Circle just as Witt slammed Despina down for the second time. She winced and shook her head, but there was still a little bit of a sharp-fanged smile on her muzzle as her sister flopped back and sprawled unconscious on the floor. As the scene faded from the viewer, proving that the fight was over, she just had time to notice her duplicate pounce on the canine Demon's double... although not, she thought, in a particularly hostile way.

The lioness had a pretty good idea what Witt had in mind when he came back into the bar. When the hedgehog walked past her with the bucket, she grinned and winked at him, and helpfully poured an extra tub of ice cubes into his load. "Duck t' th' left," she murmured, "D'spina usually lashes out t' th' right when y' douse 'er, if she can't see where y' are."

Of course, Andrace didn't mention what else her younger sister usually did. After all, Witt had just smacked down a Kithara girl; even in a mostly recreational brawl like this, there were repercussions to that sort of thing...

"Aaaiiieeehohahohfrigits COLD!!!" Despina shrieked as Witt dumped the bucket over her. She almost levitated into a half-crouch, icy cold water and several ice cubes sluicing off her wet fur. She stared back at the hedgehog, her eyes bulging and still a little glassy, then she took a deep breath, picked up her staff and scrambled to her feet. "Awright," she said with a wry smile, "Y' beat me fair 'n' square. That was a pretty good punch-up!"

The young lioness grinned impishly, raised a hand and snapped her fingers. Flames leaped from her staff, ran along her arm, and engulfed her body. Her hair was a tangled mass of curling fire; her eyes glowed like coals; inside her open mouth, her fangs looked like white-hot knives. Hot air blew around the Circle, with a scent of drying fur. Despina reached towards Witt with a passable imitation of an innocent look on her face. "Wanna shake on it?" she said.

[Lisky]

Bas was watching his double for a little while, the lioness's doppelganger seemed to jump at his own double in a way that was all too friendly for someone who'd just been punched into unconsciousness by the very same person... Perhaps she was a carefree adventurer, or perhaps she had a thing for large and powerful creatures... whatever the case, he was about to make a snarky comment, hopefully to fend off any ideas she might have, when the scene ended.  The spiky fellow slammed the other lioness into the floorboards of the fake bar a few times and it was all over.

With his table-mate seemingly lost in thought, the demon said playfully, "i'll be right back... even though i know you don't want one, i could use a good drink right about now."
Without another word, the canine headed off, making a b-line for an open bar stool.  Looking for someone, or thing that could be identified as a barman.  With the floating smile seemingly gone... probably off to wreck someone else's day...  The demon peeked behind the bar, hoping to find someone or thing to get him a large mug of mead.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace sat where she was on the barstool until she was reasonably sure she wouldn't break out in a fit of giggles. Sure enough, her little sister had done the flaming-handshake trick to add a little zip to a simple hot air fur-drying spell. It had all been a carefully-rehearsed illusion. A pity Witt had been facing the wrong way so she couldn't see his face in the viewer.

She noticed the canine Demon — the real one — walk up to the bar to order a drink. She smirked, sauntered up behind him and stared at the back of his head with her arms folded across her chest. "Hey, hunky-an'-horny," she growled cheerfully after a moment, "I noticed y' watchin' that pitiful show "we" put on in there. Dunno 'bout you, but I've not fought that badly since I was a little kid. How's 'bout we show these folks how much better th' real thing is?"

[Lisky]

Craning his neck around slowly, a toothy, devilish grin across his muzzle, the demon eyed the lioness up and down.  She was a bit bigger than he'd guessed, very tall, and from what he could tell, very well armed... and probably better armed than he could see.  With a very evil smile, a subtle twitch of a wing and a small nod of the head, he replied, "I didn't think i was capable of failing quite that much... especially in a bar brawl where -I- should have had the upper hand...  Now... is that a challenge... Miss..."  Pausing as if to consider something. 


Extending his hand gently, and grinning, he added, "...Baseel Wolkshammar... The Basilisk... or Bas if you prefer.  Can't have a friendly spar without the formalities, now can we, miss?"
Drawing out the last 'S' to highlight the question.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's ears and whiskers twitched in amusement, and she made a quiet but distinct skeptical noise in her throat at the Demon's mention of his duplicate inevitably having the upper hand over her duplicate. "Yeah, it's a challenge, all right," she said. "I c'n fight a hell o' a lot better 'n my cheap knockoff copy — an' she was kickin' your cheap knockoff copy's tail a couple times there!"

When Bas introduced himself, the lioness smiled just as toothily as he'd done, reached out and took his hand, and shook it firmly. "It's a pleasure t' beat y' Bas, I'm Andrace Kithara. Did th' bar-critter tell y' th' rules o' th' place?"

Despite her carefree appearance, Andrace was privately more realistic about her chances. She recognised the name "Wolkshammar" from some old records she'd studied back home, listing powerful Demon families. If she wasn't very careful, she'd end up in the same battered condition as her duplicate.

[Lisky]

Bas's toothy grin grew much, much more friendly when an equally evil grin was returned... Now he could see why his duplicate had like the girl.  He replied, "Yes, actually he did explain the rules... and, since you're issuing the challenge... i believe i choose location... If you're ready now, I think i know just the place."

In his mind, Bas was running through several different locations, each offered there own advantages and challenges... The name Kithara seemed somewhat vaguely familiar... as if he'd heard it mentioned once in passing... or at least something very like it.  As the more exotic locations cycled through his mind, one in particular stood out...  A very devious snicker escaped the demon's lips as he asked, "Have you ever been, or at least heard of the Giant Liandria Forest?"

The question was said in an innocent enough tone... and, if she'd never been there... the place is ruggedly beautiful to the extreme, especially at night.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Witt grinned at the reaction to the water he'd provided; even better than he'd hoped. He then raised one eyebrow at the flames, and the outstretched hand. Mentally, he flipped a coin. Either the flames were real, and he'd get burnt, which would stink - he hated getting the smell of singed fur off - or they weren't. If they were, chances were the heat would cause his tendons to contract, and that would crush the hand anyway, so it wouldn't be a complete loss. And the damage would heal in a couple of hours or so, anyway.

All this passed through his mind in a split second. From outside, he reached out, and grabbed the hand that was being offered. Firmly.

"Sure. You fought well, too." The grin on his face belied the heat in the words. "Damned mages."

[Angel]

Sylvia Dahl...Why have you retreated?
...Mother Albell...?
You do not need to sleep here. The sun always shines. Yet you drew the curtains closed and fell out of the waking world. Why must you hide?
...I was hurt...
In battle? You can heal easily-
No, my lady...I...I hurt someone, and got hurt in return...
Did you intend to hurt the person?
...No...
Did you care about this person?
...Yes...but not enough, apparently...
All living creatures must go through pain in their lives, Ella-Illa, even those who can heal. If too much damage exists, you may not be able to repair it. But do not believe this is a failure. Even the gods cannot know everything about how love will end up. I myself learned this from the trickster god, as you may well recall. Do you understand?
...I believe so...but the pain is still there...
It will remain for quite some time. But you can only choose one path to end it. Now, do you wish to mend things with this person?
...I don't think I can...
Are you afraid you will hurt each other again?
...Yes.
What is it you want?
I want...the pain to end. I want freedom. From this fear, this regret, this...guilt...
Then you know what must be done. But first, you must face the world.
Mother Albell......thank you...
You've been sleeping long enough, my child...allow the sun to bring you home once again.

Upon waking, Sylvie didn't consciously remember hearing these words, but heard the calm rustling of leaves outside. She blearily opened her eyes, traces of dried tears making it just the slightest bit more difficult. She licked her lips once, and swallowed. When she opened the curtains, she felt life, energy, and power coursing through her- slowly, but with a renewing, rebirthing feeling. She filled her lungs with clean, cold air and turned back to face the room. Her eyes fell on her pack - and the fresh clothes inside. She didn't quite recall packing those, but she must have...

After changing into a fresh outfit (that looked remarkably similar to the one she'd been wearing, but with no sleeves and a slightly lower neckline), she picked up her staff and, with a sigh, walked downstairs.

When she entered, she noticed that many people were still outside...and that Stygian, Andrea, and Sahlena were gone. A wave of surprising relief washed over her, and she headed back to the bar.

"Apple juice, please," she said, then looked outside. And did a double take. "Oh! Sweet Gods, I'd forgotten Dani was fighting! She hasn't fallen asleep yet?!" Her bright green eyes looked, for the first time since her last fight, lively.

---

Dani moved quickly away from the house she was holding onto once it was clear that it was very likely to fall on her. She got low to the shaking ground and covered her head with her free arm (such things as earthquakes weren't uncommon in Rustburg). Then she looked up to watch the advancing, scared, furious Big Bad. Whether he was upset because of what she'd said, or because of his home falling to pieces around him, she didn't know, but what mattered was that apparently he was shaken enough (pun only half-intended) to be faltering. He had switched weaponry. If she got in close, just once, she could do this...

"Well, hell if I intended for this to happen!" she shouted, still staying low, but tightening her grip on her glaive, waiting for Big Bad to get close enough. "But hey, as long as it's happening, this isn't real, is it? So why not huff and puff and blow the neighborhood down?!" The last part of that sentence simply sprang to her lips; apparently, a few stories HAD made it into the world she came from. But before any differences between the two stories could be wondered about, Dani got up herself and began to run towards Big Bad, her teeth gritted and her face somewhat distorted in exertion as she deigned to close the rumbling distance between them and swing at his neck.

[Boog]

To be honest I'd be happy to keep talking. I LOVE to talk. For instance, lets talk about you. Who are you? The voice had an amused edge as it floated around the edge of Arryo's mind, We're about to beat each other until candy comes out and I'm pretty sure the most we have on each other is names and appearances. Where are you from, boy?
The fog roiled and moved. Was that him, standing there in the shadow of the wing of one of the jets? It was too dark...

--

Richard raised an eyebrow when Sylvia came back downstairs. "Was wondering when you'd be back down." He gestured to the ring with his drink. "Your friend looks kinda like she's in over her head, but she's keeping it together well enough. She's probably gotta reign in those spells of hers though, or she's gonna-"

--

It was one of those moments that needs to be kept forever. The suburbs crumbled around the both of them, Big Bad and Dani, as they moved toward each other for the kill. The polearm scythed for him at neck height, his machete came up too slow. The nightmare sneered, blinked out of existance... And reappeared right where he was a second ago, looking alarmed. His eyes widened. The machete fell from one hand, soon followed by the gun. Whatever horribleness that made him other than a man abated, if only momentarily. The blade connected with his neck...
Briefly, Dani was in a forest with trees that dwarfed mountains. Before her was something that Was Not A Wolf. Wolves were smaller, and had no arms, and less mouths, and more eyes. Her polearm was cleaving through its neck...
"I'll sh-sh-sh-show y-you!" Gunshots, screaming....
High above, the foliage formed a woman's face. She opened her mouth and said-

Dani was standing in an empty circle. In front of her was The Book, which promptly snapped closed. Next to it was a torn up page, and Big Bad's revolver...

--

"-Oh." Richard blinked. "Well nevermind then."
Marya snickered, keeping an eye on the hedgehog who'd just walked out of the barfight. After that show, she figured she owed him a drink.

[Paladin Sheppard]

(Heh I think its about time i rejoined so here I go )



A bight crackling rift opened just in front of the bar, and hurtling out of it came a certain Armored Wolf Cubi. With a decent amount of speed he slammed into the bar, the angle the portal spitting him out causing Paladin to come to rest upside down.

"Owww."

[SpottedKitty]

The flames running along Despina's bare shoulder and down her arm didn't pull back when she grasped Witt's hand and tried for a knuckle-straining grip to match his. The hedgehog didn't feel much heat as a brisk conflagration appeared to engulf his arm up to the elbow, only a gentle warmth and a whirling wind confined to within a few inches of the lioness' body. One final gust of hot air swirled her skirt-flaps around her legs and ruffled her hair and tail-tuft, then it all stopped, leaving Despina with perfectly blow-dried fur.

She held on to Witt's hand through half a dozen vise-like shakes, and only several years' experience of arm-wrestling her older (and much stronger) sister Irene helped her avoid visibly massaging the life back into her hand when she let go. Then her ears flicked inquisitively as she realised part of what Witt had said. "So yer not a mage yerself?" she asked. "I thought all those illusions were your doin'. What was it, then, someone's set-spell? Ah, never mind, let's get back inside so's I c'n buy ye a drink. A fight like that deserves some celebratin'."

Inside the bar, Andrace looked thoughtful for a moment at Bas' suggestion. "Nope, can't say I know anythin' 'bout th' place," she said, "seen th' name on maps, I think, but that's 'bout it. Hold on a sec, be right back." The lioness trotted over to her backpack where it leaned against the bar, picked up her gunbelt and sword, and quickly buckled them on. The heavy baldric was really more suited to go over her thick leather jerkin rather than the decorative silk shirt she currently wore, but the shirt had been carefully made for this situation: it could stand up well under the stress and still look as if the only thing inside it was a lioness. No unexpected bumps or bulges revealed the hiding places of several sharp and pointy little surprises.

Finally she reached into a side pocket inside the backpack and pulled out a long thin club made of a dense reddish wood, reinforced by metal banding that was tastefully decorated with rows of spikes. It was also at least twice the length of the backpack, never mind the small pocket it had come out of. Andrace sauntered back towards the Demon, whistling cheerfully, with the club propped casually over her shoulder. "Haven't used m' lucky club f'r a while," she said, "so it's 'bout time I gave it an airin'. Brawlin' f'r fun, it don't matter if y' ain't usin' y' weapons, but in this business — a girl can't be too careful."

[Lisky]

"oh, but it wouldn't be a fair fight if you didn't have something to protect yourself with, m'dear.  However, i'm going to make things clear that there will be no killing.  For one, an honest spar might be a matter of honor. Besides, if your boasts are half of what you claim, i would no sooner burn a painting in castle Wolkshammar than kill a masterful fighter such as yourself... Besides that, anything is fair game... the spar ends when one is either incapacitated, was unable to dodge a would-be lethal strike, or gives up."

Standing up to his full height, his eye-line a few inches shorter than the lioness, yet horns going well above, the demon gave a bit of a snicker as he headed out the door.  "I figure the looser buys the winner a drink, unless you have something better in mind for a prize... In which case,- I'll- still take a drink for my victory prize."

Giving a noncommittal shrug as he headed out the door.  The demon walked to the circle and focused on a particular island he'd become quite fond of.  The waves gently lapped in the tropical air, the outer edge covered in soft, white sand.  The sand extended about 50 feet inland where it stopped.  The rest of the island was made up of a strange volcanic formation.  Near perfectly octagonal flutes of rock, all near uniform in face, but extending to different heights.  The dream-scape like land was covered with the little pad-like octagons throughout most of the largish island, some formations standing 30 feet above the ground, others fell below sea level, leaving little salt-water ponds where the ocean leaked through.  In the center of the island was an imposing 'battle-terrace' as Bas had dubbed it.  The sheer vertical cliff standing some 500+ feet in the air, casting an odd and ominous shadow.

The beaches themselves had brush and a handful of trees, but most of the island was rock, with protruding grasses of all kinds.  Most of the grass was a little over knee height, and in patches no bigger than a few feet around.

Bas stood atop one of the smaller formation, 10 or so feet above the average plane where the majority of the pads sat.

The island, if one were to observe it from above, would be a near perfect oval, about a mile at it widest, and about 500 feet at the midsection the other way.  The battle-terrace was a massive structure, with roots vines, and stones hanging off it, the plateau at the top was a perfect circle, 60 feet across.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace nodded curtly as the canine Demon laid out his conditions, then she grinned sardonically. "Now how w'ld I get a drink out o' y' when I beat y', if I've gone an' done a clumsy thing like kill y'? Apart from th' messy way, o' course," she finished with a brief mischievous (and toothy) smirk. The lioness followed him outside, still whistling cheerfully, and waved towards Despina and Witt as she entered the Circle Bas had selected.

Her ears, whiskers and tail twitched intently as the empty Circle faded and shifted into a strange rocky island. She wasn't far from Bas, and at about the same height, but there were several of those stone columns between them, some higher, some lower. The lioness glanced around briefly, taking in the details of their arena. Not enough brush or undergrowth to use as cover, except on the beach, so forget about hiding and ambushing. A few very low columns, now turned into water-filled pits; better watch out for them. And the massive column in the middle of the island; could she climb it somehow, if she needed to?

Andrace returned her attention to the Demon and shifted her stance into a ready crouch, bouncing slowly up and down on her pawpads. Her claws scraped the rock, testing it to see if it was unusually hard, soft, or crumbly. She changed her grip on the leather-bound club handle, holding it ready to swing, or to parry an attack. The lioness narrowed her eyes and studied the columns in front of her. If she ran there, then jumped up there, that would give her a good height advantage to launch an attack on the Demon. Of course, the same stepping-stone sequence of columns would also give Bas the same high-ground advantage to attack her.

She watched him with a hunter's intense concentration, alert for any movement in feet, hands, eyes, tail or wings that might give her an instant's warning. Her tail lashed once from side to side, then Andrace took a deep breath, filling her lungs, and let it trickle out between her fangs. Her opponent was in front of her. She was ready.

[Lisky]

The shepherd demon stood his place, breathing the sweet ocean air, enjoying the gentle breeze as caused his clothing to flutter slightly.  He stood his ground, holding his arms a little ways from his body as he appeared to lazily flex his wings to their full length.

Bending his knees into a slightly lowered crouch, the demon took a quarter-turn, seeming to expose his left shoulder to the lioness.  Very slowly, his hands began forming into fists.  A blackish mist trickling from the edges of his fingertips.  In the blink of an eye, the demon stood behind a very large shield. The 4' metal rimmed, and bossed wooden circle interposing itself between Baseel and Andrace. 

The demon's lips curling back into a bit of a sneer, exposing his long, sharp and vicious teeth.  In his other hand, a large and stylized battle-axe.  The axe-head in the shape of a large bird of prey, almost as if it were a hawk, or an eagle perched on a post.  The edges of the wings sharpened to a razor's edge.

"Here kitty kitty kitty." The demon said in a chiding tone, "I've got a nice ball of yarn and some catnip for you to play with."

So saying, Bas ducked down slightly, hopping forward from stone to stone, careful to keep the shield between himself and the club.  His wings seemed to flare and twitch at each little hop, adjusting his movements so as to allow each footfall to land on the center of each flute.  His movements seemed almost a dance as he began closing the distance, it was clear his footing was sure as he continued hopping.  When he got close enough, Baseel unleashed a feint-strike with the axe, pulling it down, and using the momentum to swing the shield 270 degrees in a flash.  The brutal blow aimed for Andrace's midsection.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's eyes narrowed when she noticed the black haze around Bas' hands. As the shield and axe appeared, she grinned fiercely. "Aww, whassamatter, puppy," she purred mockingly in reply to his taunt, "Big hunky Demon's so scared o' one little Bein' y' gotta hide b'hind a great big shield?" The lioness began to sway gently from side to side, little more than shifting her weight on her paws, her tail curling back and forth in slow, lazy S-curves.

Here he comes, she thought as Bas started his almost dance-like charge. Now, don't make a move too early, he'll see an' shift his attack. Wait. Wait. Ah frig, I bet th' axe's a feint, lots o' edge dents in that shield, he attacks wi' it! Wait... wait... wait, wait, waitwaitwaitNOW!!! In a sudden burst of motion as the Demon's feet landed on her level of the rock platform, Andrace ducked and threw herself forward in a low dive, easily avoiding the axe and just barely low enough to miss the abrupt swing of the shield. The heavy metal rim just scraped the fur on the top few inches of her tail: any lower, and it might have broken her tail, or even crushed her hip.

The lioness landed on one shoulder, rolled, and her other arm swung out, launching her spiked club like a whiplash aimed right at the Demon's knees. At the last moment she twisted her wrist, making the club spin so that the spikes would — if she were unreasonably lucky enough to score a good, solid hit so early in the fight — tear as well as batter and stab.

[Lisky]

As the lioness ducked, a faint chuckle escaped the demon's lips, "Clever girl, i'll give you that." 

Bringing his wings in close, using the momentum of the large shield to carry his body through, his eyes never left the lioness.  Her own swing coming too fast for him to move his shield, Bas swung the axe in a slightly awkward and shallow arc, posing the axehead between his exposed leg and the spiked club.  The titanic crash between the two instruments combine with the awkward angle of his own hand sent the axe spinning out of Bas's grip, while driving Andrace's club down.

Taking a back-hop, the demon flicked his wrist out beyond the protective shield, long, vicious claws extended, as the black mist appeared again.  Then stopped, "Perhaps we should make this more interesting..."

The tone was intentionally off, a clue as to his next move as Bas started sliding the shield off his arm, careful to watch Andrace's moves.  Taking a large, wing-flap assisted jump backwards, Bas opened the distance between the two as the shield slid off his left arm.  Again, without warning, he flung the 20 pound hunk of wood and steel in Andrace's direction as if it were a Frisbee disk.  The demon's hands were giving off the blackish mist again, his body appeared tense, wings spread, and his entire muscles seemed tightened, like a coiled snake, ready to strike.