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The Dragon Knight -> RE: =Elemental Championships 2008= Grand Finals (8/26/2008 23:08:25)
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The fury of the woman was unmistakable, and Torrelle had no doubt in his mind that she would kill him without thought of mercy if she had the chance. He had seen her in one of his quick glances, charging across the field of death to the aid of her companion. It was not hard to guess that the cause of her anger was largely due to the feelings she held for the lumbering giant, and the fact that the man had nearly fallen to the pirate's machinations. He knew, now, just why his attack had failed; this woman had somehow interfered with it, although how she could possibly have done this remained a mystery. How else could she have become alerted to the danger that Roch had been in, hidden as they were behind the pillar?
His eyes turned and focused on the metal warrior, face darkening with grim determination. The mocking bellow that echoed dully from within the mighty tank told the wily pirate that the Earth Chosen had also seen the fiery Enya approaching from the far side of the arena. A hint of joy could be heard in the cry, mirroring certainty of victory and relief at seeing one's beloved unharmed. The thought caused Torrelle to wince as his feet dug into the sands, halting his movement. The reminder of love and what it meant to two people only served to fuel his own fury as he recalled that which he had lost so long ago. How dare they mock his pain, his grief? How dare they act as if such feelings for one another absolved them of their injustices? Injury to his mind and body he could easily forgive and forget, but never, ever would he allow someone to injure his heart and pride and go on as if it was of no consequence!
The roiling seas of his rage flared anew, becoming an ocean squall, and that squall swiftly grew to a mighty hurricane within him, giving him strength to strike back at these ignorant wretches who dared to flaunt that which had been stolen from him. He stood his ground, turning so that he faced neither one nor the other. His gaze fluttered back and forth as he waited, tasting those precious few seconds as they dripped in crimson drops from between his tightly pursed lips. He knew that the opportunity was there, it just took patience to find it.
In a flash, he saw it. An epiphany gave him the insight he required as the iron-shod feet of the Crusher crunched closer and closer. Part of the icy trail that had melted lay across the man's path, with the water hidden just below the surface. Knowing he had no time for anything overly fancy, the Maelstrom raised the water the few inches it needed to break the surface just as the giant charged into it. The soft mud was shallow, not even noticeable to the man as he passed on through, and yet it served its purpose. As his feet lifted from the moist ground, the water clung to them, swiftly climbing the back of his leg once more, though in a significantly smaller quantity than the last time. Even with his fury providing the impetus to control this fluid, Torrelle's injuries were simply far too numerous and grave to allow his body to go beyond manipulating a few mere cups full. However, it was all he would need.
The great Earthen Axeman called out, his gruff voice almost choking with laughter at the plight of the wounded seafarer. His ultimatum of net, axe and spear hung in the air, an undisguised insult that spoke volumes for his lack of respect for the seaman's abilities. The man was a fool if he thought that the Pirate Lord of the Western Seas was without one last trick. The bold statement did little to improve the pirate lord's demeanor.
The net hurtled from Roch's hand. As it did so, Torrelle caught the hint of movement from his opposite side that announced the flight of Enya's bola. He knew that he would have one chance to end this, and despite his rage at the injuries they had caused, he had no wish to deprive either of these newly found lovers of the other, if it could be avoided. Nobody deserved to have that fate thrust upon them, as it had him. The strategy that had formed inside of his mind encompassed both foes, and would pit their desire to win against their feelings for one another. Even as the net was tossed, the water was swiftly gathering on the Earth Warrior's back, preparing to leap forward at the command of its master.
He took a chance, launching himself bodily forward, releasing his hold on the precious longsword as he did so. If he failed in this attempt, no amount of swordplay would spare him from the woman's wrath. The time for brute force and the cut and thrust of combat was past; now it was time for something more subtle and sinister.
His dive carried him well out of the bola's limited range, but the metal net had a much larger span. He hit the ground on his hands, prepared to roll forward in a neat somersault, when his feet were suddenly wrapped in the clinging bite of the steel mesh. The dead weight constricted his movement, causing him to crash painfully to the ground. His teeth clacked together from the impact, and he realized from the sudden stabbing pain that another rib had been broken from the fall. He knew full well that he lacked the time to free himself from the trap. Still, it did not matter. He would either win or lose with the move he had planned.
If lady luck was with him, then he would have the time to draw the small volume of water in through the Crusher's mask to encircle the man's heavily muscled neck. The band of water would take on a form as of a collar of spikes, digging in to the flesh, the collar twisting even as it lightly constricted. In so doing, he hoped that the man would realize that Torrelle could easily set the ring to spinning and contracting, shearing through the muscle and sinew until it pierced the vertebrae beneath, severing the head of the Champion of Earth. He also hoped that the man would recognize that the lack of such an event happening immediately was an indication that the pirate would prefer to spare his life, if he could stop the rampage of his ally.
However, whether any of this would come to pass depending largely on whether or not he had enough time to accomplish the task before one or the other of his opponents got close enough to snuff the life out of him. Knowing that his very existence depended on his skills, he focused intently on the water, attempting to mold it to his will. As he did, flashes of his wife's smiling face drifted before his sight, her arms outstretched towards him. Whether she was simply supporting him, or welcoming him to the afterlife, he could not say.
He only knew that he was about to find out.
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