Welcome to Gaia! ::

With a box clutched tightly between her small hands, Neinos never left her lusus's back, unless it was to deliver the goods stashed in said box to some unlucky trolls still stranded in the wreckage of this vast city she had never seen before now. He wouldn't let her run off on her own like that, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The large, muscled frame of a warhorse, capped by the flexible, clawed feet of a lizard made for quite the intimidating foe against any party interested in stealing their important resources. Besides, with how small and dainty the orangeblood was, letting her walk on her own through the debris would have been far from smooth sailing in any sense of the word. The lusus tread much more consistently than she. Even over mangled piles of what once were buildings, he kept a good pace.

They'd met only a few displaced so far, including one who was too severely injured to make the trip out of the heavily damaged area, and so they had left quite a large chunk of their supplies with him, as well as a wish of luck. If he had survived this far, maybe he could make it, but her lusus had been too cautious to offer carrying him to safety. Neinos felt a bit bad about that.

Patting his neck, the orangeblood willed her guardian back in the direction they'd been traveling from earlier. They had to find a resupply tent or there wouldn't be much left to give if they came across some other ailing soul. That was when her ride stopped dead in his tracks. He could see the white shape of another creature not far off, but something in the air felt strained and unsafe and rather than trotting over to make sure whoever was over there was alright, he started to move on another path entirely. Neinos squealed disapprovingly, and disobeyed her lusus, sliding from his back, landing with quite a stumble, but quickly getting back up and toddling in the direction of what they'd seen. He chuffed loudly, but could tell she was determined, and only followed behind. At her slow pace, he thought she would eventually tire and give up.

(Spraos gains one auto-hit and 3 HP!)

CRACK.

The debris found its target directly across the chest of the blueblood, shearing his sleeve with a particularly uneven metal edge as it passed. The force of the initial blow made the troll scream with fear, falling backwards out of surprise and too stunned to react to the projectile. He hissed through his teeth as he hit the ground, feeling a stabbing pain in his back as he landed on a pile of freshly made gravel and broken glass panes. A trickling of blood began to make an appearance. It slid messily down his arm and into the fabric of his shirtsleeve, tinting it day-sky blue -- a dangerous color. Spraos flared his nostrils and got back to his feet, his jaw clenched tightly.

After a moment of uncertainty, Spraos loosened his shaky grip on his weapon, wide eyes now drooping into a placid expression.

He swayed, loosening his spine. Shards of glass tinkled lightly as they fell from his back, revealing more pricks of cerulean. A slow, throbbing hiss from behind the troll cast an eerie rhythm onto his movements as he glid through the debris, searching for his target. A sure, steady hand flicked the troll's barbed chainwhip into motion, and soon the whirling sounds of metal filled the air. His eye caught movement on the top of a debris pile.

"That was a nasty trick," Spraos announced softly.

With a split-second motion, the troll launched himself up the pile. The looter was here. He had a weapon. He initiated combat. There was only one thing to do.

With a sharp breath in, Spraos drew his arm back and slung out his weapon, digging a heel into the pile the best he could for balance.

Spraos does 6 damage!

HP: 17/23
1 AH

HP: 16/23

Spraos' chain swung from the yellowblood's arm and back into the air. He stumbled back slightly on the hill, feeling a stabbing in his foot from the debris. He wasn't exactly wearing battle attire -- his leggings and prim vest were his only defense against oncoming attacks. Spraos repositioned his chain, swinging it across his elbows rapidly. He was now on the defensive.

Other than a sharp shard in his heel from his quick sprint up the hill, his adrenaline and fortuitous agility held off most of the pain. His eyes were trained on his target. He was a speedy one -- Spraos realized he probably didn't have another sprint at him. As long as he could just keep the yellowblood in range, he could rip him apart with his coils. Relish the thought.

The blueblood whispered something quietly, his expression a mix of glazed apathy and despair. With a flick of his wrist he struck at the yellowblood again -- a miss. The pronged chains whirled as they passed by. Discontentment flickered across his features.

Spraos barely had time to react as the troll slinked easily around him. His bursts of speed and ferociousness were unused to the natural flow that Aprife had. It was dizzying -- the blueblood wavered, the whir of his weapon slowing to a deep thrum.

"S-stop," He muttered. His hands began to shake as the yellowblood approached, and he struggled to block his oncoming attack. It was far too late.

"A-hhhkkk!" The air in Spraos' system was forced out of him by the blow. he managed, stumbling backwards. He slid down the pile, stopped abruptly by a misplaced pylon. His vision swam. There wasn't much time to recover from such a blow, and he'd already made an opening. The blueblood grunted and shook his head, flicking his dormant chain to hold it with both hands.

In his swimming peripheral vision, Spraos caught a glimpse of a great white mass. There was no time. There was no time. He gathered his ragged breath and leapt to his feet, cracking his whip with a metallic strike. The blueblood's poise was back -- he cranked the weapon around his elbows and stepped around Aprife, using the arc of the weapon as a rotating shield. What now, blueblood? He thought to himself, looking down at his foe dispassionately. What would father say?

Spraos considered his options for a moment, and found his opening - and the answer. Stop him.

Spinning in a clean pirouette on a smooth sheet of metal below him, the blueblood switched the trajectory of his weapon in a pinch. The vertical chain whirled around him with great momentum. He snapped his arm out and wrenched it back in, the coils finding their way around the yellowblood's arm and waist as he did. His weapon-hand. Good. Spraos' deadpan expression pulsed as he yanked Aprife close, focusing in on him intensely as the two closed in the distance. He wouldn't worm his way out of this one.

HP: 11/20
1 damage done!

HP: 11/23

The blueblood sucked in his gaunt cheeks as he kept the yellowblood in his chain’s grip. He was bulkier than he expected; it was unlikely he could keep him tangled for long. Fear crept up the back of his neck – one wrong move and Aprife could escape, and do some damage with his scourge. A cerulean vein popped in his neck as he gritted his teeth with the thought.

“You’re –“ he tugged the chain closer; the two were nearly touching. Spraos’ flat grey eyes stared into the troll’s with chilling indifference. “Not my type,”

The troll spat in Aprife’s face. He stepped back, ready to release his grip. His chains rolled across the yellowblood with a clatter. There was no aura of superiority in the blueblood’s actions – as he regained his stance he wavered. There was no way he could have held onto the troll with his slashed arm. His wound sent electricity through his spine and he automatically brought his other arm up to still it in reaction.

There was a pulsing pain at the front of his head. He shook slightly, like he was trying to get water out of his sound sponges. Spraos looked up when he heard the hiss of the troll. He was angry. The blueblood blinked and then was upon him.

He drew in a quick intake that nearly warranted a sharp screaming hiss from his throat before the scourge struck. He felt the bite of the flail digging into him before he twisted out of the way, crying out in muffled anguish. The response was sudden and unpredicted. Spraos had done what he didn’t need to. He made a mistake. He made the yellowblood rise up. He couldn’t control him. He would pay. Spraos would pay. Spraos tried to swallow a knot in his throat with no avail. His hands began to shake.

“Don’t say that…” His voice was a smooth, effortless murmur. He felt like he was choking. Spraos had to make up for his error.

The troll stepped in towards the yellowblood clumsily, his movement having lost grace. His face had paled, but its expression still remained detached from his erratic movements. In an instant, the troll flicked his arm up high. The chain followed, glinting dangerously in the moonlight. He brought it back down with a crash, intending to eviscerate his opponent on the way down. He'd make up for it. He'd make up for it.


HP: 8/23

Spraos does 5 damage!

HP: 2/23

In the heat of battle, Spraos’ locked-on gaze flickered from his target. In that moment he spotted him. A pale, undulating smear against a crumbling overpass. The monster freely skittered across the rubble, always with eyes on his charge. His guardian wasn’t going to intervene in the hostilities now unfolding with the two trolls. But he was watching.

The spindly troll’s arms were shaking visibly, even echoing into the metallic coil of his whip. As his opponent fell, he felt a stab of relief in his chest. For that tense moment, the wild-haired troll seemed vulnerable – literally below him. That was how it should be, yes? Spraos was in control. And yet, something wasn’t right. The troll felt himself grinding down on his flat teeth, unable to reduce the throbbing of his racing blood pusher. He didn’t have much time. He was down. If he could just lift the whip and strike him in the head, it’d be over.

He hesitated a moment too long. Spraos’ mouth popped open in surprise, his eyes immediately welling. The hard smack of the scourge disguised a troubling crunch, and the troll buckled forward into Aprife, a shocked expression turning into horror. His descent was silent until he hit the ground, crashing bleeding-shoulder first into the sharp debris. Uncontrollable tears began to bead as the pain washed through him. This couldn’t be happening. Spraos writhed and finally let out a gasping breath, contorting his limbs and trying in vain to bid them to his will. At once he jerked himself up off of the ground, to topple again on his injured kneecap like a broken puppet. With every attempt the troll became more and more frantic, his breaths short and beginning to become vocal with hysterical, throaty gasps.

“N-no!” he screamed. The yellowblood was retreating. His free hand jerked to his knee, sending another bolt of pain through him. Spraos screamed out, voice cracking wildly.

“You can’t do that! You can’t…!”

The blueblood’s eyes were pinpricks set in livid orange disks. His body shuddered and made every movement frenetic. Aprife gained momentum. If he got to his feet now with his damned artifacts, there would be nothing for the crippled blueblood. The situation had become unsalvageable, but maybe it wouldn’t end now. Spraos howled. Disregarding the pain in his knee, Spraos leapt forward, allowing his bad leg to fall behind him limply. Half dragging himself, the troll took his chain in both hands. The barbs between the straight rods in the whip caught his palm as he gripped it scrappily. This was the troll’s last burst of energy. He put his strong foot on the ground and launched at the back of the retreating yellowblood.

“I won’t let you!”

He forced his arms out and around the troll’s head – it was surprising show of dexterity considering Aprife’s broad horns. Chain firmly in hands, the delirious troll drew his arms in tight as he fell upon the back of the troll, finding himself landing and lying on the yellowblood’s back himself. He pulled his opponent’s neck up with his weapon. There was no time for thought. The troll’s arms shook violently, hands locked in a deathgrip on the chain. They were bleeding significantly. He sobbed manically and tightened his stranglehold.

“I can’t… You can’t…”


6 damage done.