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Raindrops and a half-eaten riceball | Who the hell is Mitchi?!
The incoherent ramblings of a Tzimisce trapped by a Tremere in a Toreador's body. Or maybe i'm just a Malkavian. My bad.
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MMOG Writing Challenge: Fall

Posted 10-27-2008 at 10:59 PM by Mitchi
This is my third entry into the MyMMOG Writing challenge. It's split into two posts again, since it's too long for one blog entry.


---
Fall into darkness


Die...just die...

It had been nearly two years since he'd seen the bastard, and frankly, those years had done nothing to improve Karma's opinion. Armand was as rude, selfish and just as much of an ass as he was the day they first met.

Die already!


The thought burned like a flame through Karma's mind, as if merely thinking would help to abolish this adversary, but no such luck.

It was a horrible idea to meet him out here like this. In his nearly four thousand years as a kindred, Armand had gathered quite a few tricks that he could easily use to turn any situation to his advantage, no matter how horrible it was. No one knew this better than his current opponent, a small and frail looking girl who appeared to be fifteen.

Karma stood there, too nervous to move. He knew that he should probably call Scythe and ask him to help, but he didn't know if that would help the situation, or if Nova had to ask him directly. After all, this was between Nova and her estranged sire.

The two Lasombra glared at each other. They once were "lovers" in a very loose and physical sense of the word, but now, their hatred for one another was more obvious than a candle in a pitch dark room.

It took a long time for the search to be at all fruitful, especially since not only had he changed his name, he changed his body too.

Cyric, he was now called, and instead of the boyish exterior he once possessed, he now wore the face of a middle aged man. Yet Karma was completely nonplussed. The Lasombra's attitude hadn't changed one bit, and that alone merited him being despised. And to Karma, he would always be Armand the Twerp.

"I told you to come alone, Lillith." Armand -- Cyric said through gritted teeth.

How long would he stick with this name until he realized it's roots in a nerdy tabletop RPG?

"It's Nova now, Armand. And you know that he follows me everywhere. Wouldn't let me leave the city."

"Tsk tsk, Little Lillith. If you won't address me by my new name, why would you expect the same courtesy from me?"

His smirk was irritating.

"Because you're a ****."

"So obscene."

"Big word for such a small brain. Then again, all your blood is in the lower region anyways."

A large, shadowy tendril arose from the ground and looped around behind Nova, pushing against her back, nudging her closer to her adversary.

"Don't complain, you always liked it." He taunted, his lips curled slightly upwards. "Or maybe that's why you came here? Your little pansy ass Tremere boyfriend not satisfying you enough, perhaps?"

"Leave Scythe out of this."

"Oh, who says I'm referring to Scythe? Maybe I'm talking about the hothead over there...after all, you did have trouble keeping your legs together..."

Now Karma was furious. Did this little prick just call his friend a *****? Yes, he did, and he was about to pay for it.

The flames that lurked within Karma's eyes were now manifested in his hands, growing larger, ready to roast any target they touched.

Before a word could be uttered the ball of fire was blazing it's way towards the object of Karma's ire.

Armand was going down.

In less than a second, however, a shield of blackness and shadows erupted between the Lasombra and the flare, causing it to dissolve. As the wall of shadows died, Karma saw that not only was it Armand who had created it, but Nova as well.

"Stay out of this" they chimed in unison, before going back to glowering at each other.

But there would be no more taunting and heated looks.

This battle was now on.

Nova rushed at her sire, a mess of shadow tendrils emerging from her skirt, all of which hiding one very sharp knife each. From seemingly nowhere, a small black hole appeared, from which Armand drew a large claymore that had to of been bigger than Nova. In a sweep that seemed too fast for such a large weapon, a few of Nova's tendrils were gone, the blades clattering to the ground.

Another swing, this time with less speed and more strength. A quick push upwards with her spindly tendrils was all Nova needed to dodge, but now that she was airborne, there was little she could do.

From a pouch at her hip, she produced a small, wrist mounted crossbow. Weak and barely able to kill a rabbit, it was an insignificant piece of weaponry, but with special bolts at her disposal, Nova had little to worry about.

One shot. It zinged through the air and in less than a second found it's mark and exploded, engulfing her foe in a mass of flames.

"Seriously? You're so pathetic that you have to rely on cheap tricks to get by?"

Karma had seen it perfectly. By some miracle, Armand was able to shield himself with his rather large blade and use his control over shadows to protect himself from the explosion.

"You're the cheap bastard" Nova commented as she landed on the ground, her tendrils helping to cushion her fall.

"Your insults are getting weaker, my dear. I expected better from you, Lillith."

"**** you."

"You want to, don't you? All you had to do was ask."

Another shot fired, once again deflected by sword and shadow. Karma hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The difference between 4000 years and 8 was rather obvious.

Nova jumped back, her tendrils propelling her out of the way of an attack as Armand rushed for her. All she could do for the time being was dodge and avoid, until she could think of some way to strike back.

A low swing was all it took to take out a large portion of Nova's arsenal of shadows, causing her to fall on her rump. A finishing blow came from overhead, but Nova had one shot to avoid a fatal encounter with the claymore. Her small hands shot up, and with just enough concentration, she was able to borrow the resilience lent to her by a small bracelet on her left wrist. All at once, five ranks of fortitude coursed through her at the exact moment of impact, allowing her to get by with just a cut.

"What the hell?"

Armand drew back and held his blade in a defensive stance.

"No relics, Lillith, that was the agreement."

"It's not a relic, jackass."

"Your wrist glowed. Off with them, now."

"Fine, but only because I'm a lot more honorable than you are. Also, I can beat you with out them."

She made a big show of pulling off several pieces of jewelry, all of which producing some kind of magical aura. They made little chimes as they fell to the ground, some rolling away, while most of them just settled where they were dropped.

----

Part two can be found here.

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