3179/WMAT CSF Samar vs Fate Testarossa

WMAT CSF Samar vs Fate Testarossa
Date of Scene:	09 October 2015
Location:	WMAT Arena - Yunzabit Heights
Synopsis:	Samar vs. Fate in the Bracket C semi-finals!
Cast of Characters:	401, 494, Wo
Tinyplot:	WMAT 2015

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Samar (494) has posed:
    The semifinals. Samar's boasting in the beginning of the tournament has turned out not to have fallen flat on its face; here she is, just a few more steps away from absolute victory.

    Of course, the leader of the Abyssals expected nothing less of herself, but there have been a number of close calls during this tournament. There's likely no small amount of fortune on her side to ensure she's here today.

    The Battleship-Symbiotic Princess waits in the cold winds of Yunzabit Heights, still sprawled on the back of her hulking symbiote as always. The chilling breeze sends her long hair fluttering, but she doesn't seem to care about the temperature; probably the result of not really being alive, probably helped by the hot red steam seeping from her symbiote's mouth like a hellish furnace.

    Her expression remains stern as she awaits the arrival of her opponent, still as focused and determined as ever in the face of her next battle.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    Conversely, Fate Testarossa has boasted very little. Not at all in fact. Many fights with the blonde ended just as they began, in stone icy silence. Having clawed her way through fight after fight on sheer determination, will, and the desire to prove herself for her friends and family.

    And now here she is, gearing up for her next fight. Fate has had very little contact with the Abyssals, almost ironic how in spite of factional ties, her first time meeting Samar is on the battlefield. Still, there's little need to wait long for Fate.

    She's already here.

    Perched high atop the loftiest spire of the rocky crags, the small blonde stands ready, Bardiche, the black axe-shaped Device clasped in one small hand, cape whipping almost wildly in the vicious winds, scarlet gaze staring down.

Wo has posed:
    What serves as a broadcast booth, for this particular battle, is little more than some hastily salvaged, corrugated metal, set into a nook in the unforgiving terrain. Sheltered, but still beholden to the elements. Within, the Wo-class aircraft carrier that would be familiar to some sits, alongside what seems to be a whale-like creature with two rows of disturbingly human-like teeth, and around the size of a small horse. The latter is perched upon a chair by its tail fluke, and while it would not normally have any reason to, grasps a microphone in what seems to be a gross approximation of a hand, formed of flabby, grey flesh. Somehow, even more curiously, it has a fedora perched upon the top of its bulbous head, a 'PRESS' pass inserted into the band.

    Meanwhile, the entire area around the booth seems to have a golden glow around it, from the inhabitants' passively luminous selves. It seems to waver in intensity, depending on the emotions of the Abyssal ships within, including a Tsu-class light cruiser further inside apparently working the electronics deftly, despite having humongous, gloved hands. The creature with the microphone, a late model I-class, once again begins to speak, sending the message across the air waves as well as locally, via somewhat tinny loudspeakers. "Welcome to the WMAT semi-finals! Tonight we have two names that are rapidly becoming familiar to the listeners at home: Fate Testarossa, having dethroned our previous champ-een on the way to this round! But standing in the way is the terror from the deep, Samar, that has made her presence felt just as strongly! The combatants are taking their places!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    It takes a few moments for Samar to notice Fate perched on that spire; having not expected her opponent to arrive so high up, her attention was more focused on the horizon. Still, when she does notice the small blonde high above, her symbiote lifts its eyeless head up with a mechanical groan, almost of curiosity. "...well," Samar intones, speaking up so that her voice can echo through the frigid peaks, "I'm glad to see you're as punctual as I am. I hope you're also ready for a battle like this..."

    The symbiote's main cannons on its bulky shoulders rotate up toward the mountain's peak, clanking into place once they lock on to Fate's position.

    Samar's deep red eyes narrow to sinister slits. "...because I have no intention of falling now that I'm here."

    The second that the fight is announced to start, Samar opens fire. Already she's aiming with her main cannons, blasting two shells straight for Fate with powerful reports that ring through the mountains. The detonations of those shells may be scaled down to match the guns' size, but even that grenade-like explosion is going to be rough.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    "Mn..."

    Punctual is one thing, but talkative is a wholly different game. Fate waits for the signal, locking scarlet gaze with the Abyssal Princess without a word. And then comes the signal- and the barrage.

    The spire Fate was on seconds ago is easily, wholly, and completely eradicated; stone and earth pulverized to dust and ash, the resultant explosions blossoming outwards ina fiery conflagration. The found Fate makes- something between a hiss and a grunt- is lost wholly in the explosive report. And so is Fate.

    When the fires die down, she just simply isn't there anymore. The Snakt-KSH of machinery somewhat off to the side is the only hint where she may be.

    Cloak in tatters already, Barrier Jacket scorched and burned badly, one gauntlet wholly mangled, Fate ignores the slow creep of blood running down her forehead as she pushes herself at high speed- a blur of black and gold rushing from the dark smoke. That axe Device snaps back, cracklling to life with a blazing golden light taking on the form of a scythe blade. Bardiche's revolver cylinder cycles once before expending a cartridge with a mechanical ka-CHUNK releasing the internalized magical energies into that blade.

    Her voice is quiet, almost drowned out by her own speed as she raises that blade, aiming straight for Samar herself, rather than her mount: "I don't either." Whispered icily as she swings, a stroke fast and hard enough to make the air -crack- audibly from the cutting stroke.

Wo has posed:
    The fedora-wearing late model I-class resumes announcing, after the preparations and the battle start beacon, "There's the signal. We're off! Samar spares no time or mercy with her long range, opening shelling." The sounds of the large caliber cannon blasts briefly overwhelm the voice commentary, before the excited speech resumes, "As expected of a battleship!" The softer voice of Wo adds, helpfully, "...looks painful. Was that - it? No...Fate emerges, damaged but - reso-lute." The more boisterous voice adds, "Indeed! A return stroke of her weapon, and with such blinding speed! A compelling match up of grace and brute force!" The glow from the broadcast booth-slash-fallout shelter increases as the I-class bounces up and down on its tail fluke, excitedly jostling the microphone, and causing a small amount of feedback before the Wo-class settles it down with a steadying hand.

Samar (494) has posed:
    Fate can't be taken out just from that. Even Samar, as full of herself as she may be, can't even think that. How could the girl have ever made it to the semifinals if something like that could defeat her?

    The Princess' senses are on high alert, a fact that lets her catch that mechanical noise and whirl around to see Fate speeding toward her.

    This is probably the first time anyone has tried directly attacking /her/ so quickly.

    Fortunately, Samar isn't a pushover herself. Her hand thrusts out to grab the scythe as it swings toward her, and though she jolts back to brace her opposite elbow against her mount's head and strains to keep the weapon away, she manages not to get fully impaled; the point just pierces into her chest, right where her heart would be. Assuming she had one.

    Samar grits her teeth, but she's quick to retaliate and try to emerge from this awkward position. She twists away from the blade to grab the scythe with her other hand, and then, pushing her inhuman strength into the motion, she stands and spins further to /throw/ the smaller girl down to the ground in front of the symbiote, releasing Fate's weapon at the peak of her throw with a sharp shout of exertion.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    If anything can be said about Fate Testarossa, it's that her speed is her strength. That speed is downright inhuman, and it's carried her through the tournament thus far. Of course her issue arises when faced with opponents of greater physical strength.

    For an instant, Fate is nearly nose to nose with Samar, staring at her eyes, when her swing is arrested.

    Then scarlet eyes widen as her momentum is halted jarringly- and then twisted and turned against her. Grabbing Bardiche by the blade is like trying to grab lightning, but the more solid construction of the Device is easier to grasp, and the resultant mighty hevaing SWING flings the tiny blonde like a ragdoll, tumbling to land cratering the ground from the force.

    To her credit, she recovers well. Staggering to feet with a breathless grunt, before she bolts. Literally.

    Backpedalling at first, before flinging herself upwards in a mighty leap, carried on by high speed flight spell, the blonde is doing her very best to ignore the steed and go for the rider, heaving her scythe to cut harmlessly at the air. ... Or so it seems.

    [ARC SABER.] Bardiche pings, smooth and low, the scythe blade detaching and flying like a boomerang of crackling voltaic energy, spinning like a buzzsaw, aimed for Samar herself once more.

    [SABER EXPLODE.]

    That's a little more self explanitory, when it suddenly erupts with a violent concussive force of an electrical explosion.

Wo has posed:
    From the broadcast booth, the male voice skips a few times, before grinding to a brief stop, as though a tape recorder had jammed. The I-class in the fedora somehow looks confused for a moment, tapping on the microphone as though that might help, before the Tsu-class comes up behind and gives it a firm WHACK on the back. With this, the voice whirrs back, "--it takes all of Samar's strength to keep from being run through by Fate's speed! Ladies and gentlemen, the rumors that the Abyssal princess is heartless are true, judging by that wound." "To our kind," the Wo-class carrier notes, apparently playing the part of color commentator, "...it's, not that bad." The male voice resumes, "Anatomy lessons aside, Fate is cast aside, her smaller frame seemingly a liability, before she catches herself. It seems she's maintaining her strategy to focus on Samar, herself. The atmosphere is electric, literally, as she sends a charged attack right back at her!" The loudspeakers crackle at the explosion, the electronics able to repel the interference, at least for now, thanks to being FCC-approved.

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar, at least, has a little more time to react now. Now standing on the back of her mount, her gaze remains fixed on Fate's recovery, watching and planning for the girl's next move. The cable extending from the back of her neck down to the symbiote's chest is almost strained with the distance, but at least she still has room to move around on her own.

    Again Fate aims right for her; as expected, given her immediate focus. This time, though, the symbiote is there to retaliate.

    One bulky arm lifts up to intercept the blade, and the scythe stabs into its open palm before the creature closes its hand around that same blade. The next explosion crackles electricity between the beast's fingers, but it endures: once its hand opens again to lower to the ground, a very large chunk of pale flesh is clearly blasted away from its palm, but strangely, not a drop of blood comes from the ghostly wound.

    "Fire!" Samar's forceful command comes just a second before the battery of anti-air guns on the symbiote's torso flare to life. Several artillery blasts are sent into the air toward Fate, blasting around her as if she were a warplane instead of a young girl.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    After that recovery, Fate wastes no time catching her breath. She can't, when those high powered guns and artillery have already taught her a valuable lesson of just how much damage they can cause, right at the start of the match. But once again, Fate takes refuge in the audacious; choosing to fly through the AA fire rather than let it pin her.

    This requires she be on a whole new level of speed... And she blurs. Body jinking and weaving, twisting and making snap-changes in direction that would be bone-jarring, or even dangerous, she floats through the withering storm like a leave in a gale, emerging on the otherside with several new gashes from some terribly close calls as she stops herself short, one hand extended forward, mere feet away from the princess, fingers spread. The act forms a sigil upon the air, a large runic spell circle of Mid-Childan calculations, flaring to life in vibrant gold, as she lifts her Device in her other hand. Compared to Samar's authoritive voice, Fate's is little more than a whispered breath.

    "... Fire..."

    With the spell complete she RAMS Bardiche through the center of the spell circle, unleashing a torrent of electrical energy in a focused beam, aimed for both rider and symbiote mount.

Wo has posed:
    Within the booth, the excitable male voice that has been granted to the I-class blasts out from the loudspeakers, "Could this be the turning point? Fate seems to have found her footing, figuratively and otherwise. Samar's symbiote reflexively moves to shield its host from the blast, enduring a grievous wound. She is no stranger to fast, aerial opponents, however, responding with anti-air fire!" The Wo-class makes a thoughtful sound, as air bursts can be heard reporting over the radio, "...she's - too fast, though. She's...going, right through - the curtain." The other voice in the booth chimes excitedly, "She's a little dinged up, but the softly spoken response of Fate, as well as that ominously glowing sigil, shows she's not going to back down!" More crackles of electrical impulses can be heard, even over the local public announce speakers, as this broadcasting equipment must be really well-shielded to withstand it. Between the interference, "--a beam attack!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    Such speed...!

    Samar struggles to keep up with Fate's rapid movement, eyes narrowed in focus as she lowers herself onto the back of her symbiote again. Whatever Fate's about to do, surely her symbiote should be able to block it, right?

    Fate lands, and the symbiote's endurance is tested as it braces against the earth. Its fingers dig into the ground, even as it's pushed back from the blazing force of that beam. Samar stays ducked behind the beast, using its vastly sturdier frame to endure the torrent of energy as long as it can. Black metal is dented and twisted, but soon, the beast pushes through with a deep, foghorn-like bellow.

    Like a lumbering gorilla, the symbiote lopes forward on its arms, charging toward Fate in a relentless fury. Still steaming from her attack, the symbiote nonetheless plows onward before lifting its giant fist.

    With all of its weight behind it, the beast delivers a massive punch straight for Fate as it tumbles to a halt in the snow.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    It's clearly a battle of speed against strength, and in such a case only one thing will determine who withstands each assault.

    Whoever can endure it more.

    In Fate's case, she's already waning, panting from being forced to weather the prior salvos instead of evading them as she would have preferred. She should outpace Samar's mount, but the symbiote also has SIZE on her. And when that fist reels back, with no way to turn, Fate once again raises her hand. A similar sigil from a moment ago, but this time for a different purpose.

    When that fist slams against it... It holds. The shield spell eating the shock and force, visibly jarring the girl behind it as hairline fractures start to form on the rune, like glass. Those fractures spiderweb rapidly, splitting the spell in half before it smashes with an audible CRASH, splintering into a million gleaming fragments of mana, before the blow connects more solidly with Fate herself.

    The girl takes that force in eerie silence, sent flying uncontrolled through the air for a moment before she hits a nearby spire of rock-- landing horizontally in a crouch, palm against the cliff face. This is not working in her favor.

    Multiple orbs of golden light form around her, surrounded by vibrant rings as the spheres change chape into crackling electrical arrowheads. And then more form. And more. And more and more and more, until there are almost a hundred of them hovering in the air behind her.

    [PHOTON LANCER PHALANX SHIFT.] Bardiche declares. As Fate shows she is going nearly all out already for this fight.

    "Fire..."

    Again, just a soft whisper, before the sky resounds with thunder, the golden projectiles screaming through the air like lightning in a withering storm.

Wo has posed:
    After a few moments, the PA system at the broadcast booth seems to correct for the ongoing electrical issues, the male voice of the I-class describing, "Fate's electric beam collides with Samar's symbiote, full force. But, it tanks it willingly, like a Frankenstein's monster welcoming the spark of life!" As the symbiote's roar echoes through the cliffs and rifts, there is a momentary pause in the commentary, as both the Wo-class carrier and Tsu-class cruiser turn to look at the hat-wearing I-class, questioningly. The male voice mumbles, a bit more self-consciously, "--too much of a reach on that simile? Okay."

    After the moment is over, however, the descriptions of the action resume, the male voice returning to form, "The symbiote charges its assailant, aiming to flatten her with its humongous fist! Fate, quick as she is, still has time to raise a shield...but it only can absorb some of the momentum, the rest sending her flying." At the sight of all the golden spheres, which begin to transform, the Wo-class comments softly, "...hundreds of attacks. --feels familiar." The male voice confirms, "Yes, it seems Fate is going all out! Electric projectiles, too many to count, all aimed for her opponent. Riveting!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    Nanoha was sturdy enough when Samar fought her; Fate is definitely proving to be similar. Not many people would be able to just tumble away and get back up again after a blow like that, but Fate, as faltering as she may be, is still /up/.

    Tension furrows Samar's brow and bares her teeth in a sharp frown. The symbiote stumbles into an upright position, snarling and hissing steam from its teeth. Samar watches for Fate's next move, and with an intense push of focus to her symbiote, aims several of those cannons into the air as the rising projectiles become ready to fire.

    The sky turns to a rumbling storm of explosions and lightning.

    All of Samar's focus is turned to shooting down those projectiles as they rain down on her, anti-air artillery and cannon shells flying up to meet the projectiles and detonate them in mid-air. Several still strike at her symbiote, blasting against black armor and forcing Samar to duck beneath the fire, but several still detonate in midair against the Battleship-Symbiotic Princess' explosions.

    Soon enough, the chaos finally dies down, the air littered with clouds of gunpowder and debris. A few moments of silence grace the mountainside, but it's brief: a resounding report shatters the quiet as all six of Samar's main cannons fire their payload straight for Fate through the clouds - or at least where she remembers Fate to be before the chaos started.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    No sooner than Fate unleashes that riotous storm of endless projectile fire, she's off among them, weaving through her own shots and the oncoming reply that shoots the majority of them down. By the time most of the barrage has been defused, Fate jinks violently aside in the face of those main cannons, the sheer force of their report nearly blowing her aside further as she's spun by the frighteningly near pass of shells screaming by.

    Sweat on her browm panting heatedly. Samar isn't giving her an easy go of things, but she's still determined to push on. The Ka-CHUNK of Bardiche's revolver cylinder revving again results ina burst of steam.

    [BLITZ CUTTER.]

    The butst of speed is almost instantaneous, a blur of gold where Fate was- leading to her attempt to land right on Samar's Symbiotw. Intending to land boots... Behind the Abyssal Princess to bring that scythe down again at her!

Wo has posed:
    The PA system is quiet for a period, since it's doubtful their loudspeakers could overpower all the shells and projectiles exploding at once, even if they had something to add to the chaos. Once it clears off a bit, though, the I-class comments excitedly, "Samar's counter shelling to the incoming blasts seems like it is proving modestly effective. Once again, her symbiote is taking the better part of what still gets through! A pretty, and painful, show we've got going on here, folks. Better pack an umbrella!" As Samar aims at where Fate is, or at least was, the Wo-class carrier squints her glowing eyes at the billowing dust left in the wake, "--hard to see. Even...radar, would be - useless. This much, debris..." The male voice of the I-class responds, "Yes, it would be almost a miracle to hit something that small, in that maelstrom! And Fate is apparently taking advantage of it, increasing her speed to ridiculous lengths we've yet to see, as she emerges. The golden blur lands in the princess' midst, and lashes out with her scythe!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    A miss. Samar curses under her breath as she looks over from the back of her symbiote to see that Fate is...mostly fine. Fine and speeding down toward her, suddenly appearing right on top of the symbiote's back!

    The Princess is quick to react, though, suddenly rolling aside to avoid getting directly hit by the scythe. The blade cuts into the tough metal on the beast's head, but Samar herself is fortunately spared. For the moment.

    Pushed by determination, Samar shifts her stance on her mount so that she can spin in place, kicking out with her leg to try and knock Fate's feet right out from under her. It's a strong kick, but it's mostly all a leadup-

    "NOW!"

    ...for the symbiote to whirl around in place, trying to catch the off-balance Fate with a powerful blow of its elbow as it bellows in fury. Maybe she'll be lucky enough to catch the blonde before any shields can be deployed...maybe not. If Fate has anything on her side, it's definitely speed.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    That whirlaround blow is... Vicious. Fate sees it just in time, and it is only her speed and her reflexes that allow her to even react. The elbow connects, and it instantly takes the wind out of both the girl's lungs and sails. But she was already moving to follow the blow, vicious as it was- it still could have been worse, as she follows its momentum.

    She still ends up on her hands and knees in the dust, clutching her ribs and gasping. But she doesn't let herself stay grounded long. As soon as she can get as much as half a breath, she hoists herself up, Bardiche spinning that revolver cylinder again... Ka-CHUNK! Ka-/CHUNK/!

    The scythe's head swivels back, forming a twin pronged crossguard as the shaft shortens in length. With a crackling ZAKK of energy, the blade forms anew, blazing to life as an immense greatsword of unwieldy appearance- yet as light as a feather. Longer than she is tall and wider than the girl is at the shoulders, she heaves that immense blade, rocketing straight up with it in a monstrous uppercut swing, unleashing every ounce of power she can muster, bolstered by those extra cartridges.

    "HAAAAAAAA...!"

    It's a stroke of desperation if ever there was one.

Wo has posed:
    The PA speakers crackle, as the hat-donned I-class chimes, "Showing a close quarters deftness one might not expect from a dreadnought, Samar narrowly avoids getting a really bad haircut." The passage had a healthy dose of obvious exaggeration, but it's for the crowd! The Wo-class calls the other commentator out on this, "..but it - wasn't at, her hair." Undeterred, the voice continues, "Once again, it is the stalwart symbiote that takes the brunt. Both beauty and beast coordinate their movements, Samar aiming to knock Fate off-balance, where her Symbiote can finish the deed!" There is a pause, as the move ultimately ends up with Fate grounded, if only for the moment, and the I-class' mixtaped voice gasps, "Fate is DOWN, and looks hurt...but she still refuses to surrender!" Another burst of static clouds the PA's speakers, before once again clearing up, to the best of the Tsu-class technician's abilities, "Incredible, she's changed her weapon's configuration to an enormous sword, and is throwing all that remains of her strength and energy into one more surge!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar's eyes snap wide at the sight of that giant sword, and her first instinct is to duck down behind her symbiote for protection.

    It's not entirely effective.

    The cleaving blade swings upward, slamming into the symbiote and carving along the armor at its front. Black metal slices open, pouring forth smoke and flames as if it were a damaged ship. The beast howls, creaking like a broken vessel and faltering back. And, in a feat very rarely seen, the symbiote and Samar are knocked upward for several feet to come crashing back down against the snow again with a tremendous SLAM.

    Samar is more than a little rattled as she clings to the symbiote's back, but the beast is /furious/. Its mouth already pours steam as it tries to get its footing, and black ichor seeps from between its teeth to melt the snow below. Its mouth locks open, a baleful crimson glow growing brighter and brighter in the depths of its throat. The symbiote digs its fingers into the earth, and it turns to face Fate directly.

    From the symbiote's mouth is blasted a swirling, devastating beam of red energy. All of an Abyssal's fury, hatred, sorrow, and vengeance are given agonizing form, blazing out of the creature's maw to instantly melt the snow and blaze through the earth below. Like a rabid beast cornered, all of the Battleship-Symbiotic Princess' rage is sent outward in that one retaliation.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    This is it. Fate has devoted herself to this last surge. Burning hard, fast, and bright now that Bardiche is in Zanber form, the small blonde is throwing herself all into the assault. No sooner than that vicious uppercut is complete, she follows the momentum into a backwards somersault, stopping herself by landing on a golden sigil forming a brief platform in the air.

    Said sigil is wholly obliterated by that brilliant beam- scarlet eyes widening as she sees the beast open its maw and unleashes that terrible red energy. Fate flings herself beneath it, Barrier Jacket searing from the proximity, skin burning red and raw as she skirts under the torrent of pure negative emotion sent against her. She twists her grip on the blade, lining it straigh in front of her, intending to ram the angered symbiote with every ounce of her speed.

Wo has posed:
    The I-class bounces up and down on its tail fluke again, within the broadcast booth, the PA speakers carrying its borrowed voice, "With all of her strength and will behind it, Fate's lunge finds its mark! Symbiote and princess both are sent sailing, and the beast is cut open by the blade! It does not bleed, as you might, ladies and gentlemen. Soot and flame are what issue out of its wound, as if it were a ship broken open." There is a brief pause, however, as the sight of this seems to impact the whale-like destroyer on a more profound level than simply commentary. The Tsu-class also pauses at the controls, but continues to work, while the Wo-class carrier reaches a hand over to reassuringly pat and rub the crest of the I-class' head. After a few moments, it seems to regain its lost composure, and resumes commentary. "--ahem. Yes, a terrifying sight, but even more terrifying is the beast opening its maw, the fires burning within of a different sort! Raw anger and hatred. Fate gains a bit of distance, but it turns out, not nearly enough. The raw energy of emotion blasts through the sigil she had briefly landed upon. Her defenses are in tatters, but she somehow remains alert, performing a ram at full speed! It has suddenly turned into quite a desperate situation, for both sides!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    The symbiote's blast doesn't last very long, dissipating in a last puff of red steam from its mouth as its body slouches forward. Just a little too slow to be able to prepare for Fate's next speeding impact.

    The symbiote is slammed with incredible force, filling the mountain range with a resounding, metallic CLANG as it's sent skidding back along the snow. It falters, then tumbles back, its earlier-injured arm buckling under its own weight and Fate's force. It's going to be too slow to retaliate - but Samar is quicker.

    As the symbiote falters, Samar clambers over its back, bounding over its head toward Fate before swinging her legs forward. The symbiote falls back, but Samar pushes forward, delivering a powerful dropkick for the blonde aimed to strike while she's recovering from her earlier blow!

    With a steaming pop, the cable at the back of Samar's neck detaches. /That's/ going to be a problem if this doesn't do her opponent in finally...

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    As soon as the symbiote buckles, Fate is on the move AGAIN. Yanking Bardiche away to change her focus- back on that rider again. Samar comes down, and the force of the Abyssal's kick earns a grunt as she wheels away in a whirl. The struggle is beginning to show in Fate's expression, an almost wild look as the blonde loses her composure for the sake of giving everything she has, like she's transformed from ice queen to a panicking ten year old relying on instinct and desperation.

    hat very same desperation that spins her around completely, a whirling vicious use of that momentum to heave the mighty sword at Samar's midsection.

Wo has posed:
    The I-class has recovered completely from its moment of tension, now. While they're doing their best to be unbiased, some traumas are deeply rooted, you know! The voice of it comes across the PA system, once again full of vigor, "Fate's determination seems to be making inroads. The symbiote, that only moments ago seemed to be able to take any abuse, appears to be losing its head of steam. After it unleashed its torrent of anger, an opening was left. It gets HAMMERED," punctuated by the unmistakeable sound of impacted metal, "With the punishing force. Even a small caliber round like Fate can still be quite a force with this kind of speed!" There is a pause of a few moments, in what seems to be anticipation, before a light gasp, "The beast looks to be down for the count, but Samar is taking this into her own hands -- or FEET. A swift kick of retribution is given by the Abyssal princess, putting her own body on the line now, but Fate continues to be a moving and very dangerous target!" A few anxious hops of the destroyer in its chair jostle its hat completely loose, where it had been held on by tape, "Fate counters with another devestating swing of the sword! This tension...it's coming down to the wire!"

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar's landing is not especially graceful, as she tumbles onto the snow and tries to quickly push herself up to her feet. Her hand immediately flies to the back of her neck - yes, the cable's completely detached. Another mental curse at that setback as the symbiote struggles to compose itself enough to act on its own; it's probably going to be useless by this point.

    "Why won't you simply /fall/," the Princess snaps, frustration clearly starting to come through her voice. And, perhaps, a small amount of fear.

    That massive sword swings for Samar again, and the Abyssal Princess puts up her arms in an attempt to weather the blow. Not the best decision on her end: the blazing energy digs deep in her arms, and while she also doesn't bleed, wounds like that aren't something to shrug off. In an attempt to preserve herself, Samar falls back with the blow, tumbling away and straining to push herself back to her feet. No time to waste; she charges, sprinting toward Fate.

    It may not be the wisest decision she's made, but in her own desperation, Samar lowers her head and attempts to just /slam/ it into Fate's own. Those horns on her brow are probably going to make that even harder than normal; whether those actually gore the girl is unlikely, though.

Testarossa Fate (401) has posed:
    A good question. But Fate only has so much in her. Despite all her zeal and determination to win, the instant that headbutt connects there's a grunt. Skull meets skull, and Fate jerks from the impace, landing on her feet and meeting gaze with the Abyssal Princess, teeth locked in a scowl of determination. For a moment she remains, head pressed firmly against head, eyes locked, near nose to nose.
    ... Before the girl's knees buckle. Scarlet eyes dull and lose their luster, as the small blonde drops backwards into the dust, passed out.

Samar (494) has posed:
    For that brief time, Samar is stoic, teeth bared and clenched and red eyes narrowed in furious defiance. She remains a determined leader, refusing to falter, refusing to lose against any adversary...

    ...and once Fate finally falls, Samar slumps where she stands with a weary sigh. She's victorious, though exhausted; again, victory was nearly pulled away from her. Those have been too close for her tastes.

    "...you fought well," the Princess mutters, turning her back to Fate and straightening up to stride over to her symbiote. Her victory is a quiet one; she seems more concerned with tending to her own injuries and those of her companion, guiding the lumbering beast with a surprising gentleness to move off the arena.

Wo has posed:
    There is a not-at-all-subtle cast of anticipation to the male, reporter-like voice that the I-class has, sent over the loudspeakers, "It seems for the moment that Samar's detachment from her symbiote might have been a strategic error. Now she's left on her own, open against a speed demon! Is that a trace of concern crossing her face?" There is some chatter in the rest of the broadcast booth, but for some reason it doesn't seem to be actual speech, since it is a gurgling from the Tsu-class. It isn't quite worried, but it seems even she has gotten interested. Unswayed by any alliances, the male voice continues, "All the tactics and strategy have long since abandoned, listeners. Fate's solid strikes have pushed the Abyssal princess to her physical limits, as well as testing her patience. Doing away with all pretenses of an elegant finish, she thrusts her horned forehead forward."

    "--Fate remains standing and staring defiantly! ...but, only just for a moment, her stamina completely expended on her final surge. Samar is the winner, or perhaps, the survivor!" Off the microphone, the Wo-class calls out, though rather softly considering her near-monotone, "Samar... Are you, o-kay? ...Tsu, switch off the - voice maker." The I-class whines a bit in its male voice, "But I like it! And the hat." "...you may - keep the hat."