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<blockquote data-quote="Davies" data-source="post: 8403353" data-attributes="member: 30538"><p>A few minutes after Paragon has quit the scene, the first match of the tournament is ready to begin. Television displays across the stadium inform the audience about the contenders for this match. In one corner of the octagonal shaped arena stands Prydwen, British vigilante and recent addition to the ranks of the Powerhouse, a shield-wielding superheroine -- sponsored by a donor who preferred to remain anonymous. In the other, the mystery woman Talante, supposedly a renegade from the hidden city of Hespera, who had apparently paid her own entry fee.</p><p></p><p>"You and your girlfriends reaaaalllly owe me one for this, playboy," says <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNiz8qP3jxdDKjg9DtPYoouPTnAkMZIS/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true" target="_blank">Isekai no Miko</a>, the Warpwitch, as she fans herself while watching all this from the box she received as a complimentary offer following her underwriting of a certain entry fee. (The fanning is unnecessary, as the box is air conditioned, but she has a fan, and doesn't feel moved to smack anyone with it just yet.)</p><p></p><p>Ordinarily, <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNiz8qP3jxdDKjg9DtPYoouPTnAkMZIS/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true" target="_blank">Nick Grey</a> would offer a polite demurral to that identification, but at the moment, he's too concerned about the potential injury and humiliation that one of his closest friends might potentially suffer to really pay much heed to what he's hearing. He closes his eyes, reminds himself to believe in someone who has, so many times already, believed in him against all odd, and forces himself to calm. With that battle against himself completed, he feels able to turn and regard her, preparatory to answering her comment, but what he sees there makes him hesitate. "Um ... do you not like the chairs that are being provided?" he asks her.</p><p></p><p>"I like this chair," she answers firmly, as she sits, one leg crossed over the other, atop the back of a young man about the same age as Nick, and with a similar taste in wardrobe, who is on his hands and knees on the box's floor. This does not seem to be his choice of entertainment, exactly.</p><p></p><p>"Okay, then," says Nick, who has seen much weirder things in his time on Earth.</p><p></p><p>Below, the two combatants have slowly walked towards each other, one dressed in casual clothes and holding a spear of a bronze-colored metal in two thick hands, the other carrying a shield larger than she herself strapped to one arm.</p><p></p><p>"I have heard of you," says Talante after a moment, while the timer clicks down to the official start of the match.</p><p></p><p>"And I of you," replies Prydwen.</p><p></p><p>"Neither of us belongs in this world and time," says the former queen. "I suppose there's much else we have in common."</p><p></p><p>"No," says the Lioness of Britain. "I don't think we could possibly <em>be</em> any more different."</p><p></p><p>In the closing seconds of the count, Talante actually manages a smile. "Thank you for that honesty," she says through clenched teeth.</p><p></p><p>"You're welcome," says Prydwen under the sound of the buzzer that starts the match, and in the next second, she slams her massive shield forward as though it weighed as little as a boxing glove, smashing into Talante's unguarded side and knocking her back several steps.</p><p></p><p>"So much for chivalry!" snaps Talante as she recovers enough to drive her spear point forward towards Prydwen in a series of jabs, meant less to hurt than to judge how swiftly her opponent can shift the shield to intercept each of them. </p><p></p><p>"That concept belongs to a later era than mine," her opponent replies, blocking each thrust easily. The answer seems to be, swiftly enough.</p><p></p><p>Talante shifts stances, now swinging her spear like a knife attached to a lengthy hilt. "I have heard of your choice of companions, as well," she growls. "Can you shield them as well as you do yourself? At all hours?"</p><p></p><p>Prydwen flinches at that threat, touching as it does on the one thing she truly fears. The flinch proves nearly deadly, for one swing of the spear slips past her shield's edge to pierce through her armor, and spoiling her aim as she tries to answer the blow with another strike of her shield. Seizing the moment, Talante drives a second thrust home along the same angle, with Pyrdwen barely managing to avoid being impaled on the point of the spear.</p><p></p><p>She turtles, then, stepping completely behind the shield's barrier, making it as impossible for Talante to strike past it as it would be to strike through it. But her words can still strike blows. "That's what always comes of the strong trying to shelter the weak," Talante sneers. "They drag you down with them when they inevitably fall."</p><p></p><p>Behind the shield, Prydwen feels her body work to heal the cuts she's just taken, and takes a deep breath -- much like she's seen someone else do, so many times -- before a smile settles on her face. "I was right. We couldn't be any more different."</p><p></p><p>And with that remark, she slams the shield's lower edge to the ground and uses it as a pole to vault upwards, making Talante think that she'll come down atop her head so that the fallen queen tries to stab upwards, then landing on the arena floor before her. With a twist of the shield, she strikes upwards at the forearms holding the spear aloft, knocking it out of Talante's hands. <em>Then</em> she drives a punch upwards towards her opponent's chin.</p><p></p><p>Talante reels with the blow, but her eyes are still focused and alert, even after Prydwen follows up with another shield strike to Talante's no-longer guarded side. She rolls with the blow, letting it carry her to where the spear has fallen, so that she can snatch it up once more and make it ready for another attack. Shifting her stance so that Prydwen's next attempt at a shield bash misses widely, she finds another opening in her guard to strike at her still-wounded foe.</p><p></p><p>Prydwen grimly considers her options. Taking the spear away <em>again</em> might work, but it's a move that she'll be expecting. Therefore, strike at a different target. And with that, she launches a kick at Talante's legs, hoping to put her off her feet long enough to settle this. She suppresses a curse when Talante practically bounces back to a standing position, with that stifled protest turning into a sharp gasp of pain as her opponent manages to strike a telling blow.</p><p></p><p>It comes to her that she's not going to win this fight, and she focuses on defense, tries to let herself heal again -- but Talante follows up that successful strike with another one that slams past the shield and into her chest. She's falling and is out before she hits the ground.</p><p></p><p>Talante stares at her fallen adversary, hands still clenching the spear in a way that suggests that she intends to finish this.</p><p></p><p>"Enough," says a voice from behind her.</p><p></p><p>She doesn't look back, but does lower her spear.</p><p></p><p>"Congratulations on your victory," says the voice of Thunder Dragon, echoing through the arena. "What boon would you claim?"</p><p></p><p>"Nothing," says Talante of the Serpent Soul. "I want <em>nothing</em> she has to give me." And with that, she walks away from the scene of this fight, with queenly stride.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Davies, post: 8403353, member: 30538"] A few minutes after Paragon has quit the scene, the first match of the tournament is ready to begin. Television displays across the stadium inform the audience about the contenders for this match. In one corner of the octagonal shaped arena stands Prydwen, British vigilante and recent addition to the ranks of the Powerhouse, a shield-wielding superheroine -- sponsored by a donor who preferred to remain anonymous. In the other, the mystery woman Talante, supposedly a renegade from the hidden city of Hespera, who had apparently paid her own entry fee. "You and your girlfriends reaaaalllly owe me one for this, playboy," says [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNiz8qP3jxdDKjg9DtPYoouPTnAkMZIS/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true]Isekai no Miko[/url], the Warpwitch, as she fans herself while watching all this from the box she received as a complimentary offer following her underwriting of a certain entry fee. (The fanning is unnecessary, as the box is air conditioned, but she has a fan, and doesn't feel moved to smack anyone with it just yet.) Ordinarily, [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pNiz8qP3jxdDKjg9DtPYoouPTnAkMZIS/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true]Nick Grey[/url] would offer a polite demurral to that identification, but at the moment, he's too concerned about the potential injury and humiliation that one of his closest friends might potentially suffer to really pay much heed to what he's hearing. He closes his eyes, reminds himself to believe in someone who has, so many times already, believed in him against all odd, and forces himself to calm. With that battle against himself completed, he feels able to turn and regard her, preparatory to answering her comment, but what he sees there makes him hesitate. "Um ... do you not like the chairs that are being provided?" he asks her. "I like this chair," she answers firmly, as she sits, one leg crossed over the other, atop the back of a young man about the same age as Nick, and with a similar taste in wardrobe, who is on his hands and knees on the box's floor. This does not seem to be his choice of entertainment, exactly. "Okay, then," says Nick, who has seen much weirder things in his time on Earth. Below, the two combatants have slowly walked towards each other, one dressed in casual clothes and holding a spear of a bronze-colored metal in two thick hands, the other carrying a shield larger than she herself strapped to one arm. "I have heard of you," says Talante after a moment, while the timer clicks down to the official start of the match. "And I of you," replies Prydwen. "Neither of us belongs in this world and time," says the former queen. "I suppose there's much else we have in common." "No," says the Lioness of Britain. "I don't think we could possibly [i]be[/i] any more different." In the closing seconds of the count, Talante actually manages a smile. "Thank you for that honesty," she says through clenched teeth. "You're welcome," says Prydwen under the sound of the buzzer that starts the match, and in the next second, she slams her massive shield forward as though it weighed as little as a boxing glove, smashing into Talante's unguarded side and knocking her back several steps. "So much for chivalry!" snaps Talante as she recovers enough to drive her spear point forward towards Prydwen in a series of jabs, meant less to hurt than to judge how swiftly her opponent can shift the shield to intercept each of them. "That concept belongs to a later era than mine," her opponent replies, blocking each thrust easily. The answer seems to be, swiftly enough. Talante shifts stances, now swinging her spear like a knife attached to a lengthy hilt. "I have heard of your choice of companions, as well," she growls. "Can you shield them as well as you do yourself? At all hours?" Prydwen flinches at that threat, touching as it does on the one thing she truly fears. The flinch proves nearly deadly, for one swing of the spear slips past her shield's edge to pierce through her armor, and spoiling her aim as she tries to answer the blow with another strike of her shield. Seizing the moment, Talante drives a second thrust home along the same angle, with Pyrdwen barely managing to avoid being impaled on the point of the spear. She turtles, then, stepping completely behind the shield's barrier, making it as impossible for Talante to strike past it as it would be to strike through it. But her words can still strike blows. "That's what always comes of the strong trying to shelter the weak," Talante sneers. "They drag you down with them when they inevitably fall." Behind the shield, Prydwen feels her body work to heal the cuts she's just taken, and takes a deep breath -- much like she's seen someone else do, so many times -- before a smile settles on her face. "I was right. We couldn't be any more different." And with that remark, she slams the shield's lower edge to the ground and uses it as a pole to vault upwards, making Talante think that she'll come down atop her head so that the fallen queen tries to stab upwards, then landing on the arena floor before her. With a twist of the shield, she strikes upwards at the forearms holding the spear aloft, knocking it out of Talante's hands. [i]Then[/i] she drives a punch upwards towards her opponent's chin. Talante reels with the blow, but her eyes are still focused and alert, even after Prydwen follows up with another shield strike to Talante's no-longer guarded side. She rolls with the blow, letting it carry her to where the spear has fallen, so that she can snatch it up once more and make it ready for another attack. Shifting her stance so that Prydwen's next attempt at a shield bash misses widely, she finds another opening in her guard to strike at her still-wounded foe. Prydwen grimly considers her options. Taking the spear away [i]again[/i] might work, but it's a move that she'll be expecting. Therefore, strike at a different target. And with that, she launches a kick at Talante's legs, hoping to put her off her feet long enough to settle this. She suppresses a curse when Talante practically bounces back to a standing position, with that stifled protest turning into a sharp gasp of pain as her opponent manages to strike a telling blow. It comes to her that she's not going to win this fight, and she focuses on defense, tries to let herself heal again -- but Talante follows up that successful strike with another one that slams past the shield and into her chest. She's falling and is out before she hits the ground. Talante stares at her fallen adversary, hands still clenching the spear in a way that suggests that she intends to finish this. "Enough," says a voice from behind her. She doesn't look back, but does lower her spear. "Congratulations on your victory," says the voice of Thunder Dragon, echoing through the arena. "What boon would you claim?" "Nothing," says Talante of the Serpent Soul. "I want [i]nothing[/i] she has to give me." And with that, she walks away from the scene of this fight, with queenly stride. [/QUOTE]
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