OoC: Something tell me this battle will break my lazy streak. Let us keep on going! ^_^

BiC:
Mioska may not have been able to read minds, but the tone of the man’s voice as he said “Get up” told her that the charade was over. “I’m guessing the jig is up?” Mioska asked with one of her eyes open a sliver.

“Yes. Now, stand up,” replied the man, a bit of annoyance on his words.

“I don’t take orders from you,” she said as she stood up anyway.

The storm overhead had lightened up even more. The once torrential downpour turning into a light rainfall. However, a new storm was about to start, but it was not one of clouds and thunder, but one of steel, blood, and death.

Vaskalen could finally begin to feel the effects of the death of that old man. Soul number 300 out of 1000, what skill would the sword reclaim once it fully digested the spirit? It seemed to take longer for the process to be complete with every 100 souls devoured. Yet, it would not matter. With its strongest servant in play, there was no way it would suffer another defeat as humiliating as his battle with the man in green.

Mioska distanced herself from the man, if things were about to escalate, like she anticipated, then she would need room to manoeuvre. “So,” she said confidently. “I take it we’re going to go all out now?”

“Yes,” replied the man. “I have things to do, and you’re getting in my way.”

“I do that,” replied Mioska curtly.

The gloves were off, as far as the disturbed woman was concerned. It was obvious that the man was in a hurry, his attitude all throughout the fight suggested that. She would give it her all and not worry about the consequences. Being dead has that advantage.

Drawing the sword of Hellfire from its holy scabbard she stood ready to give the man the fight of his life.