Written by Bylin-
Narrowing her eyes, Bylin pulled her swords silently from their sheaths. Then, closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing, slow, rhythmic, and deep; attuning it to the quiet sounds of the light breeze that swept across the dry, coarse land. Snapping her eyes open once more a smile teased at her lips as she circled her prey. The folds and joints of her well fitted leather were hushed and muffled as she pulled the shadows and bent them to her needs. She slipped comfortably into stealth, advancing cautiously towards her target. The soft soles of her boots whispered upon the rocky ground.
She watched Butha closely as she narrowed the distance between them. Two large maces dangled heavily from his hips. Lightening danced and flickered about them, telling soundless tales of their devastating power. An ear twitched towards her as she moved across a patch of lose pebbles, Butha knew he was being stalked but made no move to find her. The battle would be quick, no matter the out come, it would be over soon. Bylin increased her pace, the fight was had already begun.
Charging into the troll, Bylin broke from stealth as she smashed against him with as much force as her small, orc frame could muster, stunning him momentarily with the impact of her body. She carved her swords, long, across his back; feeling the satisfying slice of her blades against the softness of flesh.
Within a moment the troll was facing her, maces in hand, a wild grin upon his face as he smashed them against her right side. The sickening sound of crushed muscle and bone resounded in Bylin’s ears as her blood pooled below the surface of her skin, swelling and making her shoulder stiff. A grunt escaped her lips as she took advantage of the opening the attack had left and plunged her sword in deep, leaving a nasty gash across the troll’s ribs. He pivoted to avoid her next attack and raised his hammer, bringing it down hard upon her back. The air escaped her lungs with the weight of the impact; she stood dazed as she attempted to draw a breath back into her burning body. Again the maces came crashing down upon her; she gasped, managing to bring her sword up in time to parry the blow. The piercing ring of metal against metal echoed across the barren land. Bylin retreated backwards, her crushed arm slow and stiff as she attempted to fend off the flurry of attacks, she gritted her teeth as every block and parry, every attack and counter attack sent torrents of pain through her right side. Her fingers grew numb with ache till finally she could grip her sword no more and the troll knocked it nimbly from her hand, sending it dancing across the ground before coming to rest a few paces away.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt her blood begin to boil. Still the troll grinned as he advanced upon her, his eyes tinged red and focused upon her. Desperately Bylin lunged with her offhand, two quick jabs as she dove into a low roll towards her fallen sword. Butha spun as she leapt past him, swinging low and wide with his spiked mace. Again she felt the sickening crunch of her flesh. She ignored the pain and protest of her beaten body as she grabbed up her weapon and rose again to her feet. She limped a moment, her left ankle protesting madly to the weight of her body, but a moment was all she could spare as again the hammers prepared to crash into her once more. She cried out as she shifted her weight to her broken ankle, narrowly avoiding a vicious blow meant to send her crumbling to the ground. She stumbled, bringing her weapons across the opponent’s chest, leaving a pair of deep wounds. Slowed and stiff, the attack cost her too much. The world exploded into nothingness as her head snapped to the right with the nauseating blow to the side of her head. She crumbled, beaten, to the ground.
Pain, incredible pain, was Bylin’s first thought as she began to awake. Oh how she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. The pain was too fresh, she felt herself falling back into the peaceful darkness of the unconscious. A cool trickle of water upon her lips pulled her again from the comforting dark, which seemed to reach and grab at the edges of her mind, beckoning her to come and curl up in their soft velvety folds. She opened her eyes only to slam them shut once more against the blinding and painful brightness of the mid afternoon sun. She felt a shadow move across her face, and dared to open her eyes once more. The troll smiled down at her, a damp piece of cloth in his hand that he applied gently to her forehead.
“Gud duel yah?” There was a fondness in Butha’s voice that made Bylin smile as the darkness relinquished the last of its hold upon her. The troll handed her a water skin and she sipped at it slowly. Many of his wounds had already healed and disappeared thanks to the regenerative nature of his kind. Bylin smirked, however, to see the long cuts in the leather of his tunic – he had not been expecting that blow. She propped herself up on her elbows and took another sip of the water, wondering how long she had been out for.
“Nah long” He seemed to read her thoughts. “I got joo gud in da head,” He thumped himself on the head where he’d landed the blow. “Joo went down ‘ard. I thinks mahbe I ‘urt joo.” He smiled at her, blushing slightly.
Bylin raised her hand to the place he’d indicated and winced. He’d cleaned it free of grit and the swelling was quickly decreasing, but the wound was not yet healed. He took her hand and moved it away from the nasty gash. Closing her eyes Bylin lay back down upon the pack he’d improvised as a pillow. She felt him lean over her, his hand gently inspecting the wound. His fingers slid down her face to cup her cheek and she opened her eyes again to smile at him.
“Was a gud fight thoh.” He looked at her reassuringly, and she nodded at him.
“Was a good fight.” Bylin agreed. She felt her breath catch in her lungs as he leaned over her once more. He brushed his lips softly against hers before kissing her gently.
Narrowing her eyes, Bylin pulled her swords silently from their sheaths. Then, closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing, slow, rhythmic, and deep; attuning it to the quiet sounds of the light breeze that swept across the dry, coarse land. Snapping her eyes open once more a smile teased at her lips as she circled her prey. The folds and joints of her well fitted leather were hushed and muffled as she pulled the shadows and bent them to her needs. She slipped comfortably into stealth, advancing cautiously towards her target. The soft soles of her boots whispered upon the rocky ground.
She watched Butha closely as she narrowed the distance between them. Two large maces dangled heavily from his hips. Lightening danced and flickered about them, telling soundless tales of their devastating power. An ear twitched towards her as she moved across a patch of lose pebbles, Butha knew he was being stalked but made no move to find her. The battle would be quick, no matter the out come, it would be over soon. Bylin increased her pace, the fight was had already begun.
Charging into the troll, Bylin broke from stealth as she smashed against him with as much force as her small, orc frame could muster, stunning him momentarily with the impact of her body. She carved her swords, long, across his back; feeling the satisfying slice of her blades against the softness of flesh.
Within a moment the troll was facing her, maces in hand, a wild grin upon his face as he smashed them against her right side. The sickening sound of crushed muscle and bone resounded in Bylin’s ears as her blood pooled below the surface of her skin, swelling and making her shoulder stiff. A grunt escaped her lips as she took advantage of the opening the attack had left and plunged her sword in deep, leaving a nasty gash across the troll’s ribs. He pivoted to avoid her next attack and raised his hammer, bringing it down hard upon her back. The air escaped her lungs with the weight of the impact; she stood dazed as she attempted to draw a breath back into her burning body. Again the maces came crashing down upon her; she gasped, managing to bring her sword up in time to parry the blow. The piercing ring of metal against metal echoed across the barren land. Bylin retreated backwards, her crushed arm slow and stiff as she attempted to fend off the flurry of attacks, she gritted her teeth as every block and parry, every attack and counter attack sent torrents of pain through her right side. Her fingers grew numb with ache till finally she could grip her sword no more and the troll knocked it nimbly from her hand, sending it dancing across the ground before coming to rest a few paces away.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt her blood begin to boil. Still the troll grinned as he advanced upon her, his eyes tinged red and focused upon her. Desperately Bylin lunged with her offhand, two quick jabs as she dove into a low roll towards her fallen sword. Butha spun as she leapt past him, swinging low and wide with his spiked mace. Again she felt the sickening crunch of her flesh. She ignored the pain and protest of her beaten body as she grabbed up her weapon and rose again to her feet. She limped a moment, her left ankle protesting madly to the weight of her body, but a moment was all she could spare as again the hammers prepared to crash into her once more. She cried out as she shifted her weight to her broken ankle, narrowly avoiding a vicious blow meant to send her crumbling to the ground. She stumbled, bringing her weapons across the opponent’s chest, leaving a pair of deep wounds. Slowed and stiff, the attack cost her too much. The world exploded into nothingness as her head snapped to the right with the nauseating blow to the side of her head. She crumbled, beaten, to the ground.
Pain, incredible pain, was Bylin’s first thought as she began to awake. Oh how she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. The pain was too fresh, she felt herself falling back into the peaceful darkness of the unconscious. A cool trickle of water upon her lips pulled her again from the comforting dark, which seemed to reach and grab at the edges of her mind, beckoning her to come and curl up in their soft velvety folds. She opened her eyes only to slam them shut once more against the blinding and painful brightness of the mid afternoon sun. She felt a shadow move across her face, and dared to open her eyes once more. The troll smiled down at her, a damp piece of cloth in his hand that he applied gently to her forehead.
“Gud duel yah?” There was a fondness in Butha’s voice that made Bylin smile as the darkness relinquished the last of its hold upon her. The troll handed her a water skin and she sipped at it slowly. Many of his wounds had already healed and disappeared thanks to the regenerative nature of his kind. Bylin smirked, however, to see the long cuts in the leather of his tunic – he had not been expecting that blow. She propped herself up on her elbows and took another sip of the water, wondering how long she had been out for.
“Nah long” He seemed to read her thoughts. “I got joo gud in da head,” He thumped himself on the head where he’d landed the blow. “Joo went down ‘ard. I thinks mahbe I ‘urt joo.” He smiled at her, blushing slightly.
Bylin raised her hand to the place he’d indicated and winced. He’d cleaned it free of grit and the swelling was quickly decreasing, but the wound was not yet healed. He took her hand and moved it away from the nasty gash. Closing her eyes Bylin lay back down upon the pack he’d improvised as a pillow. She felt him lean over her, his hand gently inspecting the wound. His fingers slid down her face to cup her cheek and she opened her eyes again to smile at him.
“Was a gud fight thoh.” He looked at her reassuringly, and she nodded at him.
“Was a good fight.” Bylin agreed. She felt her breath catch in her lungs as he leaned over her once more. He brushed his lips softly against hers before kissing her gently.
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