RP:Asorial's Birth
The Birth of the Wrathful Asorial
Location: Fountain, Kelay
Characters: Ayras Drathir, Satoshi
Satoshi perches on the edge of the fountain, her weight resting on her arms as she leans back in the simple act of watching clouds. The feline is, for once in a long while, perfectly at ease without so much as a nervous twitch of her tail or a single hard line on her face. She's quite content to stare absently at the sky while listening to the soothing pattern of water falling into the fountain's bowl.
Drathir had simply been strolling along, intended to simply pay his feline ward a visit, but the thought that runs through his head as he sees Satoshi blind to the world is just too irresistable to him. Quietly, oh so quietly, he incants a spell, and where Satoshi is leaning becomes a portal...to no where but the other side of the fountain, where she would likely fall through to.
Satoshi is watching clouds one moment and blinking furiously up at them from a different angle the next, and from a graceless heap on the ground where the portal had decided to drop her no less! With an alarmed hiss, the feline scrambles to right herself while narrowed eyes search for the culprit of her sudden change in location, and the resulting dizziness that comes with the short travel. And it's as such that her icy gaze finds Ayras and narrows further upon recognition. If looks could kill... well, he'd be an un-undead right about now. The little mage is bristling with anger as, rather than demand a reason why, she begins her own incantation in hushed, cold words. Clearly she's no longer in a peaceful mood, what with a quintet of half-frozen tentacles leaping suddenly from the fountain, two lowering to hover protectively around the mage, ready to latch onto anything coming too near, while the remaining three watery appendages swing out for Ayras. One from each side slamming inwards in an attempt to clamp and crush him between while the other swings down from above like a fluid club, all three carrying that supernatural degree of cold only the cryomancer's temper can call up. Nope, the feline is definitely not in the mood for games today.
Drathir had suddenly widened eyes as the ice tendrils began to harass him. He certainly hadn't expected -that- sort of reaction! Instantly the elf brings his daggers to his hands and implements his neat, new little trick, porting atop the ice-tentacle that slams down to where he just stood. Elongating his weapons, the too-tall elf slams his now-swords down onto the 'living' ice...but finds minimal effect. Cursing, and with the two other tendrils already moving to slam into him, the elf has no option but to retreat already, again porting, though this time he shifts to one of the two protecting Satoshi. From his vantage, he gets quite the show of the other three slamming into each other and, incidentally, shattering against each other. At first, the elf finds himself exuberant...but then he witnesses the three tendrils reforming. "So it's going to be like that, hm?" he grumbles, and it's only a single word he speaks to alight both his weapons with a cruel aura that makes even Satoshi's spell seem warm by comparison. Warping again - and saving his own skin by mere seconds - he's now down in front of his feline ward, with one sword sweeping out to slash across her chest, only for the elf to begin to spin, warp, and swipe at her back (with no hair to cut in the way this time).
Satoshi, were she in a more clear-thinking state of mind, would have a defensive spell in place while Ayras dealt with the tentacles. But, unfortunately for her, she's not thinking outside of the present moment and so its without ceremony that the enchanted blade cuts across her front, slicing cleanly through layers of Winter clothing to nip a line across her flesh. It's enraged reacting that saves her from the second strike, as rather than flinch away--and subsequently into the attack at her back, as is typical, the infuriated cat lunges toward the original location of her attacker with claws swinging. Only to catch one of the tentacles in her grip instead of the vampire. This, however, she turns to her advantage; just as she turns her temper to suit her, letting heightened emotions fuel her even as the bite from Ayras' blade eats at her energy. And as such, with hands drawing back from inside that semi-solid limb of water, Satoshi whips around, slashing wildly for the elf with newly formed, elongated claws of an unnatural black ice, a similar color now lacing through the five tentacles as they all once more lunge for Aryas, again from above and both sides, with the remaining two diving straight for his chest and back simultaneously. With one minor twist, rather than smooth sides, each appendage bears sharpened spikes along their entire lengths, with clear desire to do more than merely knock the elf about.
Drathir curses more. He hadn't thought his little prank would set Satoshi off this much, but what he thought is irrelevant at the time being. With another port he moves into the air, and then another to move higher. Higher and higher he goes, hoping to lure the tentacles far enough away...Just enough away...He freefalls for a moment, snapping out a pair of dark, arcane syllables, his weapons glowing with new auras; one to draw life-force, the other to decay flesh, and he only ports when all the tendrils are moving for him at once that he ports back to the ground - slamming into the ground, incidentally - both swords swiping upward to knock Satoshi's arms out wide so he can thrust inward with his life-stealing blade. But then he smells something...something with a coppery tang, something he's rather addicted to; blood. What once was going to be a simple attempt to make Satoshi retreat and, perhaps, calm down becomes nothing short of a blood frenzy. He veritably dances as he attacks now, slashes, stabs, thrusts, parries, dodges, all flow to a tune that sings out as Ayras' weapons clash against Satoshi's ice-borne ones.
Satoshi isn't entirely sure what takes place after the start of her haphazard swipes at Aryas, all she's certain of is that something changes. Snapped, even. It's that unfamiliar essence in the cat, that strange source of her volatile mood and desire for amusement. It comes with the sudden awareness, not even her awareness, of the threat that bewitched blade carries and its intent upon finding a home in the feline. Yes, that has to be the trigger. And with that trigger numerous events go into action simultaneously, and it starts with a piercing cry ringing through the small area--the sound's source impossible to determine, it could be from the cat herself as she drops to a knee with arms wrapping around herself (Ayras' blade slipping neatly just above her newly lowered form) or even the enchanted tendrils of ice giving a sound of protest as all dispell to fall in a preternaturally freezing black rain upon the field, frosting all but Satoshi in an ebon snow. And, even as Ayras' frenzied dance begins, the sudden form of the jagged edge of a scythe, appearing to be made of the same black ice corrupting the area, swings upward to block the first of the attacks with the flat of its blade, Satoshi's shaking hand adding force behind the defensive move as she stands again--a petite pair of blue, detached wings now drifting behind the mage. The surnatural weapon sits with a peculiar comfort in the feline's hands, and she can't quite help a feral smirk, blue eyes malicious and determined, as her grip on the scaly staff tightens before the blade swings out in a horizontal arch for Aryas. The full swing not even completing before she drops and turns, reversing the strike and bringing the scythe back to her, all to stand and begin a steady spinning of it in front of her as she approaches the elf with a sort of calm, malicious ease.
Drathir backpedals; even in a bloodlust he's smart enough to avoid a scythe's blade. Back, back, back he goes...but then, strangely, he moves forward. A blade shoots out, hooking just where blade and staff meet, before his other weapon moves in to repeatedly pound its cross-piece against the woman's weapon. Up and up he would bring it, well out of a comfortable attack position...only to port away. Well away. Unable to smell Satoshi's blood, some of his calm returns, and that's when he decides to get away from the diminutive woman...for now, at least. Bodyguard duty and all that'll bring him back.
Satoshi tips forward with the sudden loss of Drathir's blades holding her and scythe in place, and with a stumble, turn, falter, and flail the feline lands squarely on her tail with the black-ice weapon resting across her lap. She's left sitting there in baffled silence a long moment before looking down at the scythe curiously. "I don't suppose I can simply toss you off a bridge and be done with another strange item, hmm?" she asks of the weapon in a half-joking, half-wary voice. And of course, no response. Which is greeted with a sigh of relief from the mage. The singing of the frost-katana is barely tolerable as is, adding another sentient weapon's voice to the mix might have been too much for her. Grateful at least for that much, despite a myriad of unanswered questions and an untalkative scythe, Satoshi climbs to her feet and hefts the blade across her shoulders with a sigh, arms lazily hung over the handle. Turning towards the pathway leading from this place, the feline begins a careless stroll in search of her disappearing bodyguard, musing to herself as she goes, "I wonder if the katana will be jealous..."