Dancer of Blades (Marius)

Silence. Total and complete silence as the fencer watched the needles drew near, slowly cutting the distance. His emerald orbs could barely see anything anymore, but he could see three specks of green. Probably more needles, since that seemed to be her main tool against him. It was time to jump to the defensive with a trick he hadn't used in quite a while, but it would work fine all the same.

First, he had to neutralize the one moving low, which wouldn't be too hard. Pressing his foot softly, he leapt backwards a few feet, watching the other approaching needles draw close. Two quickly slashes cut the air, although nowhere near the target needles. Why, one would ask. Elementary, my dearest readers, since he had let loose something else with those slashes. "Air Slash," he said loud enough to let her know he had actually done something.

Two identical, horizontal waves of air ripped through the distance between the two fighters and displaced the needles and continued their travel. The blunt waves continued towards the woman, who could see the white waves as they struck the guarding assassin. Her body sliding back from the amazingly hard hitting attacks. There was silence as the green haired man watched her, sliding his foot back a bit. He wasn't done yet.

"Time to make things interesting," he said as he began slashing his sword wildly, making six slashes in a total of only a few seconds, sending countless six waves moving towards the woman with ease. Sweat dripping down the fencer's exhausted hair as he began to wear out. Not much longer, he was sure to take her down before long. "Air Slash," was the last thing he said before he rushed after the Air Slashes and the woman that was trying to kill him.

OoC: How about you end this battle with your next post. Sorry my post is so short. I really haven't used the original Zorlo in a very long time. What do you say to bringing this battle to an end? ^_^

OOC: Not too great, sorry about that. But it is really long, and I wanted to describe a good battle, and it is hard to put a lot of detail into fast moves. xD So yay, the end. I will be posting in that new thread soonish.

BIC:

The pressure in the very air shifted, growing lighter, perhaps thinner, around the woman, as if the substance had been drained someway or another. Her lavish deeply golden hair started to rise, the ends of the lighter coils spraying away from her head. Her luminous eyes flashed, dark yet brilliant in their darkness, visible like a polished piece of coal from a distance. Her plush coral lips pursed together like the closed shell of a clam, her breath calmly sliding in and out through her perfectly shaped nostrils, as her glowing lavender eyes watched the man below her.

She could sense the pressure differential below, the strange power of the man seeping into the air once again, visibly collecting in the air, and rushing toward her, an arched line in the very air! The muscles in her calves clenched, the sharp tip of her black stiletto heel scraping against the rough edge of roof ledge, her ankle straining against the thick strap that held the shoe to her small wonderfully arched feet; the veins filling with blood in the action, swelling to bugle under the cream skin of her ankles and the top of her feet. Her eyes widened further, a sea of black ringed by a small halo of crystalline violet, separated into five segments by the darker bands the color of eggplant. Her left hand trailed up through the air, the long cerise-pink nailed fingers wrapped around the handle of her Ivory Rose fan, the pointer finger flush with the first slat.

The Temptress leaped off of the ledge, straight into the first slash of air, her fan held in front of her, opened to its maximum, the end held in both of the woman’s hands as she batted with all of her strength at the Auric attack. It buffeted her backward, a tumble of black, white, and cream, her hair flying every way around her crown. The next second, her fan swooped downward, making contact with the next slash of air, the concentrated force once again forcing the woman violently to the side, her fan meeting the next consecutively. She was flung to the right, fan held upward, the tips of the roses catching two slashes, wrenching the woman backward, the thick and sharp bone rose heads falling to the ground unhindered. The last two attacks could barely be blocked, the edges of the wind slashes touching, barreling past the woman, slamming her backward against the hard ledge where they too crashed, dust and debris spilling around her form.

Although the Coquette had evaded a much worse fate, being ripped at savagely by the wind attack and then falling the long way to the hard stone street, she was badly damaged. But she must kill this man; he had caused the woman too much trouble now for her to give in. No longer was it the time for her image, no longer would the woman retain her elegant mask, nor her calm and elegant demeanor. Intense anger rippled through her form, eyes burning black, the feline eyes contracted in an instant, radiating malice. The veiled lights of the heavens flashing red upon the electric wisteria, gleaming harshly upon her perfect barred teeth, her primrose lips twisted in a vicious snarl. Jumping off of the ground like a bird taking flight, the Lady Huine let out a voracious snarling hiss, flying through the air toward the Fencer.

She swung, the now deadly sharp points of her broken fan slashing at the fragile skin of the man with green hair, but the cold flash of steel met and countered the woman’s fury. Dropping to the ground in a moment, the blur of white passing above her, Veronica exploded upward off of her hands, one sharp heel aimed for the man’s chest, the other for his chin, the skirt of her dress blooming downward, uncovering her supple thighs. His sword had managed to block the kick aimed at his chin with a swift horizontal slash, but the stiletto heel made contact with the chain mail beneath the Fencer’s clothing, driving him backward with the force.

He charged her at once, the pale light of the moon glittering in the coils of the man’s armor that was visible through the many rips and tears in the exterior cloth. His lids were narrowed, intense emerald eyes never leaving the form of the graceful but deadly beauty. His sword arm quickly wove a tight net of metal ahead, deflecting and attacking in nearly the same moment, his sharp sword clashing noisily against the nearly metallic hardness of the bone fan. But Vana was preternaturally agile, her steel clad soles and artistic wielding of her prime weapon was enough to fend off the man’s attacks but not enough to break through his defense.

The two were a blur, weapons intermingling, a near dance. Artistic it was, this battle of master fighters, agility matched against agility, bone against steel. A few droplets of red permeated the dance, thin lines of blood upon the otherwise unmarred legs of the beautiful woman, a few upon her hand, nothing more than scratches, but still hits never less. The Fencer had the advantage, longer reach, and armor. But Vana did not doubt her abilities, she was one of the best, she was a Coquette.

Sliding to the side to evade a blow entirely, Vana twirled, dropping down to one foot, dancing elegantly behind the man in a mere blink of the eye, the other foot making contact with the ground as her sharp heel kicked the back of the man’s left knee, the Seductress already away when the fencer stabbed behind himself. A barrage of needles sliced through the air toward the man, the near atom-splitting sharp tips glittering like sand in the wind, a multicolored swarm of death and paralysis. But once again, the man’s magic came to his aid, but his attention was drawn away, Vana vaulting forward with a ferocious growl, attacking with everything she had, beating at all sides and angles, making contact with the form of the Fencer more than once, this such a close range making it hard for him to use his sword, the woman’s breath slammed against the man’s face was how close they were. But the hard butt of Zorlo’s sword drove itself into the Coquette’s side, the crunching of bone audible in the brief moment of silence and inactivity before the feline woman back-flipped away, landing harshly enough to finally break a heel.

A long strip of black and white cloth hung to her lithe side, blood seeping from the infinite small wounds around her body. Her breasts heaved with her heavy breathing, standing limply to one side, the broken heel still attached by the steel plate, but unusable. Her right hand now held nothing but a few broken slates of her fan, the sharp jagged edges wet with the blood of the green haired and eyed man she was peering at intensively. Her knuckles were raw from punching his chain mail, the blood snaking along her long nimble fingers to drip upon the wooden roof. Yet her hair was perfect, highlighted by the flush of her face, and glistening with sweat. The pain in Vana’s side was intense, the rib definitely having been broken, but she could not give up. She would not stop, even though she was nearly out of needles, even though she had lost two of her weapons, even though she was broken, battered and bleeding. She must kill this man; he must die rather than have the Temptress join his forces.

With a resolute animalistic growl, Vana kick her broken shoe at the man, the black article of footwear like some strange crow flying at the man. She brought her arm back swiftly, the lean muscles beneath her skin flexing sizably, before snapping forward, the last pieces of her Ivory weapon cascading violently at the sword wielder, lunging at him close behind her attacks.

His sword slices were much slower than they had been at the beginning, but they were good enough to deflect the rabid harsh tosses of the Coquette, only being scratched across the shoulder by a strangely flipping slat that he had perceived as not being able to hit him. But in blocking the projectiles, he had opened his guard to the woman, who slipped nimble under his sword arm to deliver a hard punch to his nose and a knee to his groin. She hooked her slim leg around his, wrenching him off balance in an attempt to knock him to the ground. But he replanted his foot successfully, receiving another blow this time to the jaw.

Vana used everything she had in her, punching, scratching, elbowing and kneeing the man she had almost in an embrace, nearly howling with anger and frustration, her delicate skin grating against the harsh cloth and even harsher metal. Then his head bashed into her’s, her delicate exhausted form falling to crumple upon the ground, her leg in a last effort lashed out, catching Zorlo in the knee she had previously attacked, and the man fell atop her.

She looked down, her violet eyes staring into the emerald orbs a hand span away, and then she felt the sharp prick of the slightly dulled edge of the man’s sword against her throat. Her tongue darted out to lick the blood off of her lips, the broken flesh stinging with the contact. She winced, both under the weight of the man, the pain of her wounds, and the situation she was in. With a sigh of resignation, the Lady peered once again into the man’s eyes.

“What does this Organization do now?”