DART
“Always am!” Dart pumped his fist eagerly, before he dashed off toward the sparring area – not even noticing Reala had concluded his match and returned. He eagerly leapt into the ring, procuring Heat Blade as he did so, itching to kick off this long-awaited rematch (long-awaited being about 2 days for the Hero of Seles).
He looked back toward Gunvolt to follow, and something caught his eye. Looking up into the stands, Dart realized he was looking at the cheering faces of familiar people, all waving at him. Albert, with his lady beside him, hollering out toward him in very un-royal fashion. Kongol waving his big arms around and nearly hitting several people around him. Meru, making faces at him – alongside Haschel, who was making strikingly similar faces. And of course, Shana in the middle of them, holding up their son with one arm and waving, Lavitz himself gleefully shouting something Dart couldn’t hear from this distance.
“Haha!” Dart laughed, waving back at his friends and family. He’d have to go see them after this.
NEPHTHYS
It was as she’d feared. Something to lock her away… she was already tied to a pokéball perpetually, lest her trainer release her. She’d once seen that tether as something to be proud of. To be part of a trainer’s team was quite the honor – given the trainer was efficient and complimented his team. An equal relationship of sorts. But after he’d retired from that scene, she’d resented the ball, regarding it as a prison. Now… well, it was a complicated matter.
Kirin had proven as useful as Neph had hoped, landing in a powerful blow against the dark spirit. With that, the tablet’s call quieted somewhat.
Standing again, the gardevoir focused herself, pushing away the tablet’s pull as she settled her thoughts into focus with Calm Mind.
<I don’t care,> she replied to Bakura, telekinetically swiping a boulder to the side as it came down toward her and Kirin. <You’re a bad dream, and dreams fade. The boy asked me for help. You’re collateral – nothing more.>
She swiped her hand again, throwing aside another boulder going for Sans and Marshtomp.
<So leave, before we make you.>
She knew he wouldn’t accept a surrender, and as she threw a third boulder, this time, she sent it spiraling toward the dark spirit. If only a little more damage was enough to seal him, according to Kirin, then a boulder should be plenty.
FJORRD
The nord’s unfocused eyes seemed to struggle maintaining their shaky hold on the others when Byleth started to speak, as though the dragonborn was bored, or simply too drunk. Possibly both. He swigged a big gulp from his flagon (which magically refilled right after) before he slumped back into his seat and exited the conversation as quickly as he’d invaded it.
The others would probably assume such antics were normal. Just an alcoholic brawler, and little more. In truth, he had been that once, and had become that again. It had been his marriage, and his daughter, that had pulled him into a cleaner lifestyle. Well, as clean as a natural-born nord could get. A pint every now and again was perfectly fine, he was simply responsible with it.
Without them, he drank to dull the empty feeling left behind in the wake of their absence.
SPAMTON
“I N-nnNE-NEED Y-y-YOU…” Spamton pointed at Magolor, before he spasmed on the spot and suddenly appeared in front of his booth – very close to the egg, still pointing. “TO INSERT [Laserdisc] INTO [[Redacted]]! THAT’S IT! THAT’S [Owl] YOU HAVE TO DO! WAIT, OWL? WHAT??”
He cackled, before he raised his hand up, the disc between his index and middle finger. “JUST INSERT THIS [Beauty] INTO [Megaman X] AND I’LL bBE-BE [[Big!]] ENOUGH TO [Witness] [[H E A V E N]]! YOU’LL KNOW WHERE IT IS… WHEN YOU FIND THE GREEN VINES. I COULD DO IT [Myself] BUT IT WOULD TAKE [Time And Space]! IT’S MUCH… MUCH… [MuchMuchMuchMuchMuchMuch] FASTER THIS WAY [VroomVroom!]”
SPARTAN v JOTUN
(Auto-Perms from Cardboard. Co-written w/ Mallard)
The trident found purchase, and dug into undead flesh that yet again oozed black ichor. Yet again, an attack had dealt reduced damage. The vampiric jotun snarled. Her free hand shot to grab the middle prong of the trident and lift herself off of it in the split-second that Kassandra was reeling from the attack. Nótt kicked her leg up, transitioning into a backflip, when her opponent shot backwards.
Stubbornly, the princess held on with an iron-tight grip, and was pulled after the misthios. Her sandals slid across the ground as they went farther from the cliffside, and still she held onto the trident. This prevented Kassandra from twirling the warfork to kick up debris, at least right away, as Nótt restricted the movement of the weapon with one hand while her other drove a lance towards the Spartan's chest.
“Sorry to disappoint, dear. It wouldn't befit nor benefit me to lose my composure against such a skilled opponent as yourself.”
“You know, that's fair,” the misthios shrugged as she tilted her body, the lance glancing off of the lion's roaring face on her shoulder as Kassandra's other hand shot up to grab the side – and both women were locked with ahold of one another's weapons on the edge of the cliff.
“The last guy to do that didn't end up so hot. So, who do you think's going to win? There's you, there's me, a red guy, a kid with toys… I guess the losers are still involved, as well.”
As the two pushed against each other, weapons ensnared by their opponent, Nótt found herself utilizing her superior size to try and force Kassandra to the ground. If it wasn't as simple as that, which it likely wouldn't be, she then tugged on her own spear and focused on shoving the trident- this maneuver aiming to throw Kassandra off balance.
“I would like to think I have a good chance to win this. But otherwise… hmm. Dart seems to be rather adept.”
The misthios was quick on the uptake, and with the tug, the two merely spun, still locked in place, the spartan maintaining her grip and similarly pulling – and they neared the drop-off of the cliff.
“The red guy,” Kassandra recognized. “Don't count out the kid, his little toys seem practically unbeatable.”
She was intentionally yanking the both of them nearer to the ledge, with the clear intent to drop off into the Malian Gulf below.
Nótt was intentionally yanking away from the cliff. Not because of the water that lay below, but because she knew that Kassandra could take long falls better than she could. After a few moments, it became clear that this was going nowhere fast, and so the Moon's Elegance had an idea. She seemed to cede her efforts, and moved towards the cliff with her opponent. Then, at the last second, she attempted to swing the misthios off the edge first and dangle her over the gulf!
“Yes. He’s capable to have made it this far.”
With a hefty swing, the misthios was successfully pulled up and over. She might have been capable of keeping the strength gap between them close, but she still maintained a disadvantage in height – a rare thing for Kassandra, given she was a six foot tall woman from a time where such things were rarely heard of.
“Hup!” she let out, recognizing what was happening as she was pulled over the cliff.
She could have easily found a method out of this predicament of course, Kassandra was nothing if not resourceful, though many of her responses involved needing to give up control of the trident for the moment. In truth… she was losing interest in the fight in favor of other pursuits. Her earlier conflicts in past matches had already worn down her resolve considerable, and she was quite enjoying Nótt’s company.
Instead, she flashed her surprisingly white smile at the jotun (another uncommon thing from the spartan’s time) as she dangled over the ledge. “Well, now you have me. What will you do with me?”
The princess smiled back at her opponent.
“Well, I'd hoped to go ahead and win our little skirmish, dear.”
Following this, Nótt yanked Kassandra closer, and at the same time threw a powerful kick aimed to impact the greek warrior square in the face.
The misthios smartly twisted herself, the kick missing her as she was pulled back onto land. She tucked and rolled behind the jotun princess with a short huff.
“Come on, don’t stop flirting now, I thought I was getting somewhere!”
She performed what initially seemed to be a leg sweep- but it was far too high to be one, more like a sweeping kick by the end in an effort to trick the princess with a shorter move.
Her sweep carried her into a quick spin when she tucked her leg back in, and she used this to kick off the ground and directly toward Nótt, getting fixed into her brawler fighting style – a rarity in tournaments such as these.
The princess blocked with the trident, making no attempts to dodge, before she thrusted the lance forward. Kassandra bounced off the golden rod enough to spin to the side of the lance, and kick off of her spin to leap over the extended weapon, latching cleanly onto Nótt’s shoulder and shifting behind the woman, putting one arm around her neck, and the tip of her sheathed hidden blade against the jotun’s temple, just under the crown.
For a moment, the battle stopped, but the blade didn’t extend.
“…Well?” Nótt asked, a little impatiently.
“Not to come off as brash, but I haven’t had this much fun with anybody in quite some time, not this kind of fun…” the misthios said. “And you… have impressed me. I came here expecting creatures and beasts. Nothing but fights and self-doubt. You stand out, a beautiful flower in a field of dead reeds.”
“I’m… uh, flattered,” Nótt didn’t move in such a precarious position.
“It’s well-earned,” Kassandra shrugged. “I’m usually not drawn to others, but there’s something about you… I haven’t figured it out. I feel like my stomach turns inside-out when our eyes connect. I don’t even remember if that’s a normal feeling to have… I’d like to learn more about you.”
“…Interested as I am, this is a projected fight. People are watching this and… hearing this. This feels like a more… private conversation to be having.”
There was a pause.
“That’s a good point. So what do you propose?”
Nótt could feel her torn leg about to give out under the combined weight, and tightened her grip on the trident and the lance. “We can talk later, after we do-” suddenly, the jotun’s head snapped back. She’d anticipated the hidden blade to emerge, and emerge it did, leaving a deep gash under Nótt’s left eye. The back of her skull collided with the front of Kassandra’s, knocking the misthios away with a grunt.
Despite the increased pain in her head, thanks to the crimson stone, Nótt quickly spun and jabbed the lance down while bearing up the trident like a javelin, and let it quickly fly.
Kassandra leapt over the lance with ease – only for the trident to stab into her and carry her through the air. She skid against the ground to a halt, two spokes stabbed into her. One in her shoulder, and one in her chest, likely puncturing a lung.
“After we do what we came here for,” the princess concluded, and swept her lance through the air before her, another Dragon Fang barreling upon the misthios. Nótt’s torn leg buckled and gave out under her, dropping the woman to a knee. She fired a few blasts behind the dragon fang to back it up as she hissed under her breath, glancing down at the mangled limb. If it had been bad when Kassandra had torn it open, it was worse now. The moving and fighting had done nothing good for it, and it was completely twisted and pooling with ink-like blood.
Yet the misthios persisted, and Nótt gave a short grunt under her breath in some exasperation at her opponent’s persistence. Kassandra, carrying the trident that she’d yanked out of her, was closing in, having blocked the attacks with her fleece. Punctured lung or not, she didn’t seem to be slowing. Nótt’s grip tightened upon her lance her knuckles white. She had one move she could think of right now. One good move to potentially end this. If it failed… well, then her opponent would have earned the victory.
Kassandra leapt forward, pulling the trident back, and…
Nótt felt one of the spokes tear through her throat, piercing out of the other side, barely grazing her spine. She let out a small cough, ink oozing out of the wound and her mouth. The princess had her arm raised, and her lance was halfway through Kassandra’s sternum, sticking out of the other end, only an inch away from being deflected by the woman’s impenetrable fleece.
For a moment, the two held their weapons through one another, before the women both dropped to their knees fully. This wound.. Nótt could survive. Kassandra’s, she surely couldn’t. Unless she perhaps could heal herself again…?
Yet the misthios didn’t, instead letting out a short choke that sounded like it was meant to be a laugh. “G-Guess… you win this one…” she said with a slight smirk, before keeling over to the side.
With a trident stuck in her throat, Nótt’s verbal reply options were severely limited, but when the fanfare began to play… it was confirmed.
She’d won.
WINNER’S BRACKET WINNER: NOTT!
