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[Mazal]

Summer 22nd 514 AV

It was just one of those moments In time, her steps pressed forward across the cobblestone paths of winding alleys. Slithering about in bipedal stride as she prowled the corridors for an easy mark. Murder and money that seemed to be the dhanis agenda, the motive she needed to achieve both to survive. For someone looking in it might have seemed if her life was a wretched one, but there was salvation. But a handful in this world could consider themselves blessed or cursed by the gods. Mazal however found a purpose although she did not understand its meaning well, she liked to think of herself as a champion of her pantheons agenda it energized her and gave her marked hands purpose. Many wandered the world searching for the meaning of life, it was a pity that hers was to do it harm and cut it short but the double edge in that was she knew what she was put into the world to do.

But still there was something missing in the world, it was a lonely place for someone like herself. Not many wanted to hang around an avatar of pain and suffering. Her partner in crime had perished along while ago but the memory remained. Sometimes the echo of his voice haunted her memories, they were quite the partnership. It wasn't even a relationship with romantic inclinations it was a state of normalcy that she thirsted for even if she hid everything about herself, to feel normal, to be liked, to have friendly faces smile upon her. Her world prevented this but she dared to dream even when she willingly knew the outcome would be bleak.

After all her job was to bleed to meek, and there were two ways she could go about her job. She could drag her feet and whine and complain or she could do it with a smile and a pep in her step. It was a career move really, one that she was starting to rather enjoy.

Red cloak draped upon her mousy visage the only thing that the gloomy darkness could not conceal we're ruby red lips, pale skin of her cheeks and short strands of golden blonde hair. She was by no means an ambusher she seemed to wear the shadows silhouette like lace.

An imposing figure of four feet eleven inches tall she waited lurking In the open waiting for someone to turn the corner. The midnight hour was upon her and her fairytail world would soon become a nightmare if she did not pay tribute to her sacred deity Krysus goddess of pain and murder

[Fallon]

Heat, that was what Fallon felt. Fingers wiped away the sweat that had accumulated around her neck, her lips peeling back into a grimace as she looked for the needed air in which to cool down within. Many would have thought that the temperatures would dictate what one wore, but in the case of a mercenary it was a necessary evil to carry the equipment - besides, recent events had dictated that it was a good idea to keep such things close to hand. Who knew where her enemies were lurking and waiting for her?

Regardless, it was her place to operate within the darkness regardless - it was much cooler than working in the blistering heat of the daylight and certainly less crippling. Lips were licked, her eyes lifting to look ahead as she focused herself to the task at hand - if it could even be called that. It was little more than skulking about in the low light in the attempt to find some direction of where she was supposed to go. Client hunting was not an easy task after all, and picking a reliable one within the city was something that required a lot of time and patience. And it was something she was running out of.

Coin made the world go round, it was something necessary to bring in food and allow survival. By being able to eat, one remained healthy, and by doing that one was able to continue to work, to save and put towards plans. It was a more material life blood, but it was one that was needed regardless. Sometimes to the point that it blinded individuals and set them down the path of greed for more of it.

Footsteps shuffled, a slink down into the alleyway, the black cloak smothering her form and shape as best it could. Beneath the faint clink of steel existed in time with her steps, the gaze sweeping back and forth as she checked her surroundings - last thing she needed was to have a knife aimed at her back. Prowling, she gave a step into the mouth of an alleyway and hovered there to stare deep into its depths. The grimace fell back behind a neutral mask, the hands sliding beneath the cloak and layers to gently rest upon the tulwar hilts - ready to draw - before she stepped in. Guard up she stepped through the gloom, left shoulder leading the way fingers flexing and getting ready to draw if need be.

Alleyways were always difficult to fight in; narrow constructs, it was difficult to get a good swing in, thus leaving the individual to perform either hacks or thrusts. Eyes drifted, catching the shape of another as she turned the corner. For a moment Fallon paused, her head cocking to one side in a bemused fashion and her eyes straining as she tried to make sense in the low light. A gentle rock upon the heels, a blink, before she shifted her weight to the right side of the alleyway and took the slow, careful steps down it - all the while eying the red outline with suspicion.

[Mazal]

Alleys as they were seemed to be a favorite hotspot for Mazal, it was true the larger the sword in these cramped confines the worse it was to wield. Many a merc wielding big and clumsy two handers found themselves with little and in some cases without options, overcompensation was really just an invitation for disaster. The figure had no outlines of an unwieldly weapon, but the real question was did she have a medium sword? A short one maybe a dagger or perhaps non at all perhaps even a combination.

Her gnosis seemed to groan to life within her being in some macabre fashion resonating through the essence of her being. Invisible to the naked eye but under the arcanic lense of auristics one would be able to see a pale red aura formulating around her like a shroud as she harmonized with vexation tapping into Krysus's dark gift. There was a haunting image that swirled within but never leaving the tapestry of pale red, it looked like a face shrieking in torment melting away to the bone till the haunting image melded away translucently into the shades of sanguine. Perhaps a reflection of the plane itself that synchronized itself with her body allowing Mazal to be on the same frequency or wave length of her goddesses celestial divinity.

Amused with the strangers antics, she seemed to lurk forward into the darkness. Shifting herself to one side of the wall. Curious, it might have been for a reason. The serpent would wager with her cautious approach, and skirting to one side of the wall was a gambit for space to draw her sword. Long swords were a common flavor In this area, she took a measured calculation before she proceeded forward. Maybe she had a saber, and she was setting up a preemptive strike.

Mazal decided she'd try and cow this figure out of a defensive posture.

Hail, I'm Roxy

The peth you doing? You some kind of nutter, maybe drunk? Why you sskulking in the sshadows, I can see you and you look positively ridiculouss. If your looking for a wild night ssorry luv kitchens closed, whore housse I think iss five blockss down.

Oh yea and if you got ssomething cute to ssay bout me lissp keep it ya'sself or I'll cut your ballz off. As Mazal spoke her thumb slowly and methodically pushed on the hilt of her sword breaking it free from her sheath quite as a mouse. The action was veiled by her cloak.

When she finished speaking Mazal shook her head and whipped her cloak with shoulder in a huffy fashion allowing her arm to shimmy free the gladius in a concealed fashion.

She would take to the left side of the wall and walk casually towards the figure before stopping.

Well you gonna let me passss or are ya gonna hog up the corridor with your antics? It don't look none too inviting trying to slink around someone poised to rape
Ya dontcha know.

[Fallon]

Fallon blinked, and continued to stare for a moment. Eyes blinked, fingers slipping, cracking and tightening around the tulwar hilt, a gentle pull to the side as she weighed up her options in silence. Her hairs prickled, a deep inhale as she contemplated her next move. Her shoulder pressed against the wall, eyes staring through the darkness at the shape. Skin shuddered, an inhale out of reflex as she rested upon her toes. Even her knees begun to bend slightly, a gentle step around as she looked upon the crimson cloaked. Was it the simple Sunberth paranoia that was leaving her in such a state, or was it something much simpler than that?

Regardless she kept to her side as she gingerly stepped closer, slinking and sliding closer. Gradual, slow and paces, shoulder pressing up against the wall, a checking that her draw path was clear on the chance things turned messy. Jaw tightened, the catch of the faint red within the darkness. Caution was the watch word, the faint crunch of gravel beneath her feet and the moment of silence between.

And then the lady in red moved. It took Fallon by surprise, or at least caused her step to slow as she tried to work out the intention. The neck clicked, the shoulders rolled, the catching of the lisp snagging her attention and then it being diverted to the words that were spoken. Possibilities flared up, searching through the meaning and the intention, what was the aim, what was the target for such pointed and targeted words. Silence was the answer, and it lasted as she continued to press against the wall. Though, it did amuse her slightly that she was thought to be male already without any knowledge of shape, form or voice.

But there was one conclusion that was quickly being reached - more so with the overly dramatic rip away of the cloak - it was the attempt to spur into something. Still, it did not help but make the jaw set and the gloved hands click and tremble to key words. Whore. House. Balls. Rape. Her adrenal quickened a little bit to that last word, a firm press to the right and out of the way of the other who came closer. What did they want, really? It was a hard attempt to keep her calm, the race of possibilities and potential outcomes swarmed. Attack, defend, or keep moving? Dodge, evade, escape what harm could come her way? She did not really have time to rile herself up, nor did she fancy making herself another target - she already had enough eyes staring down upon her this season already.

Keeping to the right she continued to slowly move her way down the left side of the alley. Best to ignore it, she finally decided - and thus steeled herself to continue the march forward. Nearly side by side now and at their closest, it was the blue-green orbs that strained in the darkness with the gentle hum of words reminding her that something was not quite right. Still, she fought to let it go, leave it be, no good would come from speaking. That did not mean however that her guard lowered.

[Mazal]

The person before her stayed hushed, not a peep nor word just silence that did not fall upon deaf ears. Perhaps the corridors walls would have been a better choice for more light hearted conversation.

True the enigma did not yield her guard, and it was true that the stranger had not drawn there sword as well. This allowed the viper to get from point A to B and place the Dhani within striking distance without the safety of steel between them. Was it words that steered the figure into confusion? So wrapped up in maybes and what ifs that the danger itself had hurtled itself onto her doorstep.

It was then the monster within herself was released something clicked and her inner mind ran rampant like a beast of carnage and mayhem.

Her ruby red lips curled warmly, her gentle smile widening into a grin a grin to a smile and a smile into a type of wide brimmed giddyness that could only be described as a psychotic itch just waiting to be scratched.

The serpent was waiting for sweet release, letting it build up and swell inside her mortal coil. This was different not fear, beyond excitment a state of jubilation on a higher level. She was anxtiously waiting to carve this woman like a jackolantern her mind racing turbulently with succulently sweet thoughts of sawing through tendons severing veins and arteries and bursting through bone.

Waiting for that special moment when all that energy all that raw unbridled tension was released.

With a surprising quickness that surpassed the normal range of human agility the Dhani bolted so fast that her hood had flown open revealing her visage, her face was twisted with malicious glee as her blue eyes dilated on her form like a nocturnal raptor her cold iron talon ready to sink deep into Fallons meat. Sadistic madness burning wildly in her crazed eyes, as if she was already losing grasp of her self control Mazal lusted for blood she yearned and craved to watch it smear across the corridor walls.

The power came from the calves and the twisting of her stomach and obliques to build up powerful momentum.

As her gladius sprang to horrid life it sheared through the fabric of her cloak like a hot knife through butter.
it was an under handed strike that arced upwards in an awkward angle the outer edge whipping itself out like a serpents strike. It was a brutally fast for a draw as her short sword was already drawn in preparation for this blissful moment.

Mazal wanted to catch the mysterious strangers hand as she, or if she attempted to draw from the more natural right hand. she wanted to cleave into her adversaries fingers, whether it was to sever them or smash and bruise them if they were protected by metal gauntlets.

[Fallon]

Fingers gripped, her chest rising slightly quicker as things shifted and picked up in pace. Uncertainties screamed, the adrenal picking up as she watched the own closing in of steps. She caught the flicker of the grin in the low light, the white edge of teeth aglow setting her skin prickling. Ears strained, her final guide through the darkness when her eyes failed her. That crunch of earth, the twist of toes as they pressed off the surface and bounded forward in great speed. Fast, too fast for her to truly formulate a good defensive reaction.

Steel whipped out, the glint barely within the darkness forcing her into pausing. That burning in the gaze, the wild look of simple killing and murder, hungry for blood. Fight or flight throbbed and existed for a tick, the first screaming thought to be little more than to move and get out of harms way - she would be sure as damned to try and fight her way out of this situation. The question however was where?

Arms barely begun the drag upon the tulwars, the rising hiss of blood lust filling the air. The gladus came out, precision to kill solely upon its point, arching and turning upwards. There was only one direction that Fallon could take, and that was backwards. Forward was blocked, and the narrow alleyway meant there was little room in terms of side stepping and moving to the side into a blind spot. Part of her wondered if it had simply been pre-planned, did her rivals know that she travelled down this route? Or was it merely a chance that this happened? Did it really matter anymore?

Danger was apparent, and getting out of it was the first priority. A step back as quickly as she could muster, mere beats slower than the attacker. The black cloak was pushed back as steel grinded as it was pulled free, right tulwar first, the left second. Body jerked away, the gladius point screeching at the leather of her bracers, and through the fabric beneath to the skin - a loud hiss escaping to verify the hit. She forced a turn of the body, snatching the limb back so the left faced forward and was first to be completely drawn instead. The curved blade teased, another step away as she forced the right to grasp upon its own tulwar once more and draw it.

Muscles gave a strain, the mind thinking on retreating and defending. Whoever it was already had the one up on her, meaning she had to start getting things going first. Silent, her teeth gritted, the rough exhale of hot breath into the night forcing her blood to pump faster. The wrist twisted, a side on stance with the left blade held diagonal ready to block - or attempted to at least. The right came round once more a fast forward thrust going to aim for the torso centre, anything else was hard to distinguish within the low light. Space, she needed more space. From there she could operate better, but until then it would be an uphill struggle to break even.

[Mazal]

The viper was rather pleased with how things were taking shape, the stranger had made very clever moves to evade serious injury. There was talent there but something was missing. What was she really? Indeed there was clearly skill but it left Mazal perplexed, where was her killer instinct? Her lust for blood? Her adversary seemed hell bent on survival and nothing more.

The figures sword danced and swayed teasing the viper, egging her on. The tempo of the fight was escalating, and tension within her muscle fibers was surprisingly fading as they swayed in a waltz of death. Mazal within the frenzied mayhem was trying to make sense of her partners rhythm. Looking for detailed insights in her movements, her defensive patterns. Sometimes people unknowingly broadcasted there intentions through body language.

Contemplating what next.
She had good conflict resolution skills, perhaps she should make a point or two.

Mazal catapulted herself full throttle towards the thrusting tulwar as it malevolently lunged at her. Free hand gripped the tip of her gladius for extra power and the vipers gauntlet would provide adequate protection from being cut by her own blade.
Mazal would smash the lunging sword off to the side in an attempt to throw the tip heavy weapon off balance but not without receiving a little parting gift from the sweeping arc of its cruel barb.

The curvature was what got Mazal as she waylaid through within the cramped space. It grazed her a little below the armpit. The glint of steel whipped past her, but she felt it drag along raking the flesh of her side, it was an explosion as the fabric of her clothing ripped open. She could feel the warmth, trickle down her ribs and dribble off her hips.

That look the confidence in her steely blue eyes in that moment wavered. Fear, uncertainty it was a plethora of doubt. Causing a momentary tremor of panic.

Eyes darting capriciously fell upon her cold iron gladius and everything changed. It had finally synchronized to become an extension of herself as the aura of vexation wrapped around the cold iron. Something about it empowered her, it absolved her doubts after all she was chosen for this. She was an avatar of the goddess of murder, is that how her champions would act when confronted with danger?

Over the course of a moment the expression of the acolyte of suffering had changed, a crazed menacing look washed across her features once again like an over zealous zealot.

The hushed whisper that echoed in the twisted recesses of her mind that came in crystal clear clarity from krysus herself when she was marked and initiated into her inner circle.

Should you fail me little serpent you will beg Dira for sweet release, and it will never come.

Still holding the tip of her sword the vipers left arm would swoop up then arc down like a crashing wave to deliver a punishing elbow style vambrace strike into her adversary's left tulwar that was brandished in defense. Mazals forearm and hand were drenched in spiked cold iron, and the vambraces had a habit of snagging an adversaries sword within there tapestry of metal thorns.

Her left hand would open allowing Mazals gladius to bolt forward underneath weaving steel. It was an opportunity to try and shiv her opponent in the lower belly just under the naval. It was a good spot to choose, it kept the attack low key allowed the strike to be powerfully driven and in a spot where most chest armors end.

Getting stuck in the intestines was a slow and torturous affair, and it was precisely the reason why the serpent chose to target that spot.

An attempt at a mortal wound.

But only time would tell if her technique had prevailed.

[Fallon]

Speed. Stronger. Swifter. She had to obtain the upper hand and ensure that there was the security of safety. The tips swayed, feet snapping back and together as she returned from her lunge and drew blood. She hoped it would be a deterrent, something that would push the attacker back and make them reconsider. Fibres and sinew burst into life, the right arm throbbing as she confirmed her grip. Light but firm, she felt the wrist rotate as she heard the crunch of steel within the darkness. She needed to see, she needed her vision to pick things out. Her foot snapped back again, pulse rising as she thought only upon defence and deflecting the blows. Escape would come soon - she hoped.#

Fear hovered there for a moment, it filled the air with its stench. The trembling of blood, the precision as she pulled the right tulwar back once more, and kept the left snaking there teasingly. Adrenal called her, the pressing up of those mental chains shuddering once more. Precision was needed, quick, precise movements that would minimise danger to herself - a textbook attack and defence simply. Of course, that was far from possible, there was too many chances and probabilities to take into consideration. But that did not mean she was not going to try and get close.

Blinking, Fallon sucked in the air taking the pause to step back once more. Reach was needed for a good defence, space was needed to prepare. Let the attacker come to her if she was still so inclined to reach for murder. Lips were licked, the orbs focusing down upon the shadow and the shape, a gentle sway to keep herself limbered. Where was the next attack going to come from? When was it going to come? Every tick was important to create and think about her surroundings. How narrow was the alleyway for one? Possibly about two shoulders wide, she would have to throw herself right against the wall or step back if a thrust came her way.

There should have been no 'if' factor really, the narrowness left the space only for hacking and stabbing - a full swing was far from available here. Rocking up onto her toes, she braced herself as the vambrace came round and struck upon the left. A hissing clatter of metal, her first thought was to simply withdraw the blade back to herself and resume the defence - but it was the firm grinding of snagged surfaces that stopped her. Locked in, Fallon threw her strength into the control - length and leverage was something she had to use now as she looked to wrestle it free. She begun to press upon the left, focusing on driving the arm back and across the attacker.

It was the gladus however that grabbed her attention next. Throwing herself into the wall of the alleyway, it was the right tulwar that lashed forward to attempt to deflect the blade off course and away from harm. Wedging it down in the space in between and tucking her arm in close, she gathered her bearings and thought upon speed - it was the only way to obtain the upper hand here and so she looked upon it. Hilt of the right tulwar rising, she pulled the curve up so it was across her, a rebound off of the wall with the inner curve of the blade between her and the attacker. Teeth gritted, the right edge scraping against the inner of the left before she simply threw her weight into it - hoping to barge with force into her. Head tucked in, gaze burning out from beneath the hood, she would crane her head back and bring it forward into a head butt if possible - aiming to stun and use the moment to once more back away and escape into the night.

[Mazal]

There skirmish waged on, each moment delivering a new dilemma in which to solve. The puzzles came, bits and pieces to arrange and order.

Her gladius had been pushed aside, allowing her adversary to push into her. The viper was deceptively strong, the munchkin had the strength equivalent to a full grown human woman.

Fallon however had the height and leverage, to thrust back Mazal. The dhanis feet being dragged backwards, leaving behind a trail in the dirt by brute force.

Her gladius up until this point had been unavailable, as it had been wedged away by the swordsman's bicep. However when her opponent sought to turn the right sword to add leverage to the left, she would have inadvertently allowed Mazal to coil it back. Where it would find itself checking that very same tulwar edge to edge to prevent it from being rocked into her.

The viper had been waiting for an opportunity. As she craned her neck back she had broadcasted her intent allowing Mazal to make split second decision. Her gladius had grown relaxed as it twisted its razor sharp edge ever so slightly.

There was depravity that burned wildly in the single blue eye that peered up at taller woman in an irrational gaze. Revealing a chilling darkness that exists within us all, squawking a cacophony of lecherous temptations to free itself haunting every waking moment within the recesses of our deepest animal mind. That primordial you which is sedated into silence with notions of law morality and rational. Mazal had freed herself of these chains, and basked in a freedom that few seldom knew.

The serpent would do what it needed to do. Sometimes it was a better strategy to take a big hit to deliver one of your own.

As Mazals adversary crashed her head down her gladius would spring to life ready to impart vexation as her right foot her lead foot stanced in southpaw veered off to the left to allow maximum rotation of the hips which in turn allowed her right hand to swing the gladius to her fullest potential. A shrill hiss as steel grinded against steel, only when the attack was delivered would her folly be unveiled.

Mazals diminutive stature played a small part forcing Fallon to reach with her neck far past the safety of her steel tulwars. Her left sword was locked in place in a bout of tug of war with Mazals left vambrace. Which prevented her from using it to deflect the blow, that left swords blunt back end would also prevent her from veering her neck off to the right while the right sword itself could not go backwards pinned by the the woman's chest nor forward pinned by the left sword that was in front of it. She would have effectively trapped herself tangled within the tapestry of her own steel, only for a moment but sometimes that's all it took.

-shwing-

The only thing the viper could do was turn the other cheek and take the head butt to the side of the face, a whip crack and everything went blank. She had been knocked backwards, her right sword wavering in the corridor as she tried to regain balance. Mazal felt dizzy the room, corridor wherever she was felt like vertigo as she struggled to stand on her feet. She could not make out the figure that loomed in the darkness, it was a state that was similar to being in and out of consciousness. Still on guard still backing up she could feel the pulsing pain running through the side of her face, it felt tight like it was swelling up.

Left hand gripped the handle of her sheathed gladius, while her right hand extended was leaning her shoulder on the wall to try and regain her posture and footing.

She wasn't sure if that person had survived that, but if she had perhaps it was best for Mazal to find someone else to play with. This one was starting to become a lot more then she bargained for.

[Fallon]

There was a crunch as steel collided, a hissing grind as blades sliced and locked within the darkness. She felt her temple collide, both blades crossed defensively. A full firm pull away as the opponent staggered away and lost her balance. Fallon threw her own foot backwards - bracing to the recoil of meeting flesh. The left tulwar was firmly jerked back, her foot raising to press between her and them in an attempt to firmly push away. She pivoted, a forced contortion round as sharply as possible to escape the worst of the oncoming blow in retaliation. Muscles gave a scream, tendons strained for a moment the world was wrapped within the beat the fight. Air was sucked in, nostrils flaring before a hot breath was exhaled between her teeth. Pulse roared, adrenal of the fight resting within her core as she took what was before her in.

Those last few ticks had moved in a blur, and it was perhaps only now she had unlocked herself from the steel and given herself some space that she begun to register. The slashes into the leather, the cuts and hacks primed to kill being deflected to hit elsewhere. Skin gave a hiss, the trickles of blood running and seeping across the surfaces. She felt the slash of the flesh where a blow had managed to go through the leather armour, her shoulder tightening up as it complained. The crossed blades parted swinging down to her sides as she braced herself, the rattle of a breath escaping. There was another step back, the faint patter of blood upon the floor snagging her attention.

She could not allow herself to stay exposed like this any longer - but even she had the feeling to turn and run was becoming now far from an option to go to. Fight or die sprung to mind, and it was within the darkness that Fallon steeled herself to press. Or at least, drive them off into the night. The people of Sunberth would learn not to come at her with blades without the intention of meeting her own. A faint growl of noise escaped the back of her throat, a rock up onto her toes as she considered her move.

Quick steps, the sway from side to side as she shifted her weight, swaying almost as she bobbed forth. To the left shoulder, then the right. One foot firmly placed in on the ground, a firm twist to the side as she closed in on the target. Left tulwar held within a backwards grip, she let the edge run down the length of her arm and weave teasingly back and forth. The right arched back, a high holding of the point as it hovered between them. The advance came, a lash of forward of the right tulwar towards the body. A firm barge, came from the left and the slamming up towards the form - aiming to topple the attacker to the floor.

Wrist rotated, a thrust at the form to pierce and deter away. She gave a gasp, a pull back once more as she glared down to the shape. Her voice croaked, barely a snarl vibrating from her throat as she pace around, slow and steady, watching what was before her. The blade tip gave a drag against the ground, form bending slightly as she weaved left and right. Never quite still and always moving. Her voice gave a click, a low guttural sound escaping as she spoke, "Little red, little red.. Perhaps you should use your head? Leave me be and we shall see if a cleaner fate to comes to thee."