2910/WMAT CQ2 Samar vs Sarah

WMAT CQ2 Samar vs Sarah
Date of Scene:	27 August 2015
Location:	Papaya Island - Stadium
Synopsis:	Sarah faces Samar in the WMAT qualifiers! Log incomplete.
Cast of Characters:	316, 494
Tinyplot:	WMAT 2015

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Samar (494) has posed:
    A mage of ice and water versus a creature of the frigid depths. There's pretty much only one place suitable for this sort of battle: the frozen heights of Yunzabit, where a broad, deep lake in the mountains lies mostly iced over from the constant cold.

    Samar is already here, her appearance remarkably fitting to the winter environment. Skin as pale as the snow itself, metal as dark as the jutting rocks and clouded sky, she and her symbiote would neatly blend in if it weren't for the bright red glow of her eyes and the crimson furnace of the symbiote's throat.

    The Princess sprawls on the back of her symbiote, joined to it by a cable extending from the back of her neck to the lumbering beast's side. Despite its heavy size, the construct stands in a place where it must have shattered the ice, allowing it to stand right on the chilly water as if it were solid land. Currently, both are in their 'standard' size as well, but that doesn't make the symbiote of the Battleship-Symbiotic Princess any less of a hulking behemoth, nor does it lessen the regal perch of Samar herself, lying on its back like an infernal siren waiting for a passing ship to demolish.

    Strange how she doesn't seem at all uncomfortable, given her outfit. Of course, essentially being a ghost must make this kind of temperature trivial.

Sarah (316) has posed:
For once, the Runebearer is not actually here to start with. She is not late, but neither is she early; as she had been for her match with the peculiar and bloodthirsty combat android. Rather, she takes her time in hiking up the hills, wrapped in a warm winter coat. The ebon and silver greatstaff she uses as a walking-stick, using the weighted staff to navigate the treacherous trails and drifts of snow. Despite the cold, this place is calming -- how could it not be? She's surrounded by the very element that sings in her veins, and dwells within her very soul.

In spite of the Abyssal Princess' concealment, though, she knows that her opponent is already here. She can feel the displacement from those frigid and icy waters, sensing them as easily as she might sense something touching her own skin. She can also feel something disquieting about them, but maybe that's just a blurring of her own emotions -- or rather, the anticipation of the True Water Rune, spoiling for a situation in which it can unleash its power. The Rune has been restless, of late. Perhaps the tournament is a good excuse to release some of that excess energy.

In any case, it doesn't take her long; a rather unimpressive traveller, pale as the snows around her, wrapped in a thick coat and balancing that greatstaff like a common walking stick. She's hardly impressive to appearances alone. In fact, she looks like she might well be in the wrong bracket altogether, with as fragile as she looks... but in the multiverse, appearances are deceiving.

"Salutations." Her voice barely has enough volume to carry over the cold wind of Yunzabit Heights. She draws to a halt not too far from Samar, allowing the Abyssal her personal space and inclining her head politely. There's something calculating in those nearly-colourless blue eyes; wondering, perhaps, why the young woman doesn't seem at all affected by the wintry climate. "I trust you are my opponent for today?"

The symbiote is given a long look, but if Sarah feels any apprehension or revulsion, she disguises it masterfully. Her expression doesn't so much as shift as her colourless gaze flicks back to Samar. The pale woman even manages a faint, polite smile. "You may call me Sarah."

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar's burning red eyes narrow at the sight of Sarah's slight frame. She's learned well enough not to judge people's appearances by now; as willowy as Sarah must appear, she clearly holds significant power to be in the same bracket as the leader of the Abyssal Fleet.

    A pale hand flicks black hair away from Samar's face, giving her a clearer view to stare down her nose at Sarah. "Yes. You and I will be at odds, it seems. I trust you won't be a disappointing opponent."

    The Abyssal straightens up slightly, giving alertness to her regal position. She doesn't take her eyes off Sarah, and neither does any politeness or warmth creep onto her expression. "I am Samar, the Battleship-Symbiotic Princess and leader of the Abyssals. The ocean is my kingdom; I suppose /you/ could make a similar claim, from what I've heard."

    The array of cannons lining the front of the symbiote's body swivel into a unified position, aimed more directly toward Sarah. The beast of metal and pale flesh hisses mechanically, dripping black ichor and red steam between its teeth. Samar grows a faint smirk. "Let's see who the title better fits, shall we?"

    The calm air of the winter lake is suddenly broken by the report of several secondary along the symbiote's torso, all firing grenade-sized shells on Sarah from across the ice and water.

Sarah (316) has posed:
The Runebearer shifts her weight, slightly, although her eyes never leave the Abyssal Princess. She studies the other carefully, meticulously; unhurried as she takes in every detail that she can. So too does she study the symbiote, taking in the creature's details with a kind of detached interest. Observation may be of critical importance later in the battle, when she doesn't have time to study them. She may catch a detail now that she would not be able to see later.

"I have heard your name," Sarah confirms, with a slight dip of her head. Jewelled earrings clink softly, although the sound if nearly lost in the wind. "However, my attention has been drawn elsewhere, and so I am not familiar with you Abyssals or your counterparts within the multiverse."

She tilts her head, faintly. "One could. But it is not mine to claim, no more than it is yours, or any other's. Rather, it is more appropriate to say that it is a part of me in ways that I do not think you would be capable of understanding. Or, perhaps you would be. I am not familiar with your kind, Princess."

Now, she regrets that her attention had been drawn elsewhere; had she known she would be standing against Samar, perhaps she might have made more time away from Harmonia's petty matters of state... but it couldn't be helped. She's in no position to say no to the Bishops of Harmonia. Not if she wants to maintain her secret--

Very slightly, she shifts her weight as both take aim more directly at her. No doubt they're preparing to attack, and it would be foolish of her not to pay attention.

The guns thunder and her suspicions are confirmed. Sarah immediately throws a shield before herself, one of crackling ice and high-pressure water. Although the shells miss her entirely, thudding into the shield, they don't miss the ice beneath her feet as she leaps backward. Shards are thrown into the air, and shards are also sent ripping through the her forearm, drawing a hiss of pain. Neither does she seem capable of shielding herself so irreverently -- every impact against the shields seems to leach what little colour there is from her.

No sooner does the blood well up beneath her torn sleeve than she snaps a command in some untranslated tongue, a tone of quiet and confident command. A gesture of her staff sends the ice whirling, neatly reversing its course in the air to whip back around at Samar, sharp and keen as blades.

"Indeed," she pants, a little winded after being forced to bring up such shields. "We shall see."

Samar (494) has posed:
    A scoff from Samar comes out over the sudden noise of battle. "Perhaps I wouldn't understand, but that makes the ocean no less a part of me than it may be a part of you. Simply in a different way."

    A shield of ice and water; yes, she certainly ended up in an arena befitting her opponent, but it's not unfitting for her either. Water and ice may be treacherous for others, but for Abyssals, this is as certain as standing on solid earth. Even if those are turned against her, it takes quite a bit more for an Abyssal to succumb to the environment they thrive in.

    Blades, for instance, are painful no matter what they're made of.

    The symbiote is slow and lumbering, and it simply can't move fast enough to avoid the sharp ice flying for it and its master. Pale flesh on the beast's arms is pierced through - Samar gasps and attempts to shift herself, but she's caught by surprise as one of those ice shards flies for her, embedding itself right in her chest between the array of black markings.

    ...but no blood seeps from the wounds of either Samar or her partner. The symbiote snarls like an engine turning over, and Samar's glare turns even more fierce, but it seems both can endure such injuries. Samar's next shout rings over the lake as she pulls the shard of ice free from her chest: "Attack!"

    The symbiote's hand grasps a very large but relatively thin sheet of broken ice floating on the water beside it. With hardly more effort than a lazy swing, it still manages to hurl the human-sized chunk of ice at Sarah with incredible and crushing speed. A more primal method than the technology on its body might suggest, but clearly befitting its brutish form.

Sarah (316) has posed:
"Yes, you are a creature of the depths. That is what I have heard, but I can sense that, too." Sarah regards her opponent warily, but it seems more a desire to study her opponent than out of any apprehension. "Water is a part of you, yes. My apologies. It seems I was mistaken, and misspoke."

She looks on with some satisfaction when the ice shards find their marks, although the lack of blood seems less surprising to her. They don't feel like a normal person ought to, with blood in the veins and water making up so much of their bodies. Rather, something seems wrong. It feels strange, and the lack of blood flow seems to mesh with that observation.

"So, you are something other than human. That much is not surprising. You feel strange to my senses." Sarah circles slowly, cocking a pale eye toward the snarling symbiote, gaze flicking back to the angry Abyssal. Then, when Samar orders her other half, her attention snaps back to the symbiote.

Uh oh. The symbiote rips off a chunk of ice and hurls it for her, and Sarah's quick to throw herself out of the way, conjuring another shield to deflect the shards. Sent sprawling by her headlong dive, the Runebearer forces herself back to her feet, skidding slightly on the ice. No sooner is that done than she flings an arm out in a broad, expansive gesture.

Following it is a thundering tide from the broken part of the ice -- frigid water, sent crashing for both the Abyssal and her symbiote both.

Samar (494) has posed:
    Crashing waves are something Abyssals are certainly used to in combat, but this one is something more. The raw force behind it feels almost as if Samar's symbiote were subjected to its own punch: a strike that hits the creature dead-on, sending it stumbling back on the water's surface and making it seem ready to keel right over. Fortunately for Samar, who clings desperately to the beast's back, it doesn't go that far.

    Almost as if through reflex, though, the symbiote is already aiming its main cannons at Sarah. Mid-stumble, one of the large cannons suddenly fires, sending off a notably larger shell toward Sarah that's primed to explode right on impact. The blast would be approximately as much as a standard grenade, scaled down from an actual ship's cannon, but that's certainly not much less dangerous.

    Once Samar is sure she's stable, the Princess straightens up again to face Sarah. "Nowhere /near/ human," the Abyssal retorts. "We are what humans have left of the ships they led into battle and discarded in the depths. We are their hatred and fury given form to give those on the surface their fitting judgment! I would not expect someone like yourself to understand what my sisters and I live for."

Sarah (316) has posed:
The grenade is sent hurtling in before Sarah can even think about dodging. The force of impact is enough to send her sprawling once more, this time with painful burns, leaving a bloodied swath along the ice where she's passed by. Picking herself up and coughing, the pale woman plants the spike-shod end of the greatstaff into the ice and squints through the clearing smoke.

"No," she agrees. "Harmonia does not favour ships, or naval warfare. The Island Nations prefer such means as a matter of necessity, but the Holy Kingdom is far to the north, and a strong naval presence would afford no benefit. Travel by ship is also dangerous in my homeland, and not done lightly, save perhaps by traders emboldened by the promise of profits."

A gesture and a spoken, quicksilver command conjures an illusory form of a Harmonian trading ship; a swift, sleek vessel of wood with bright angular sails, laden with cargo. It dissipates in a swirl of mist and powdery snow.

Her head tilts, though, as she studies Samar and her symbiote, and something flickers through her pale face approaching... not quite sympathy; maybe something even a little empathic.

"Used and discarded, cast away to be forgotten. That is unfortunate, and I know something of that fate," she offers, so softly the words might be taken by the wind. "I am sorry."

Even so, that doesn't stop her from lashing out, this time with a spray of pressurised water. A sweep of one arm controls the serpentine coil rising from the lake, lashing itself down to cut at both Princess and symbiote alike.

When the mist clears, she steps back, still gripping that greatstaff. "Tell me more. While it will not change that you are still my enemy outside the grounds of this tournament, that does not mean that I do not wish to understand."

Fortunately for Samar, perhaps, Sarah is not one of those few given to blind enmity; while she's correct in that it won't stop her from following Union orders, she is a curious sort, and prefers to know her enemies.

Samar (494) has posed:
    Sympathy is not exactly something Samar has become unused to, at this point, though something in the gentle empathy almost feels...agitating. The request to hear more - especially in the midst of /combat/ like this - is even stranger; what's going on in this strange woman's head?

    The serpentine stream of water shoots toward Samar, and the symbiote suddenly lifts its massive hand to block. Muscles bulge and strain against the pressure that digs into the creature's pale palm. It obviously /hurts/, but while it sends the behemoth skidding back along the water slightly, at least it's not enough to punch right through the creature's flesh.

    With a foghorn-like bellow, the symbiote suddenly pushes all its strength into shoving the jet of water aside and out of the way. The glow in its throat begins to grow even more intense as well, the only warning Sarah receives before another attack is suddenly loosed toward her. While it hasn't been charged for very long, the brief, swirling and searing beam of crimson energy that blasts from the creature's mouth is certainly dangerous, melting ice and steaming water where it strikes. Formed from the condensed misery, grief, anger, and abandonment of the Abyssals, Sarah would no doubt feel that suffering for herself the moment the beam strikes.

    "What more is there to say," Samar hisses, her harsh stare lit from below by the glowing steam seeping from the symbiote's mouth after that attack. "That it is our grief that gave us form? That many of our sisters turned against us, determined to tell us that our anger is wrong and that those who abandoned them did nothing unjust? How much experience do you have in keeping those around you from being lost to confusion and treachery? How much do /you/ know yourself?"

Sarah (316) has posed:
Strange is one of the more benign words used to describe the pale woman over the years. She has been called by a great many names, and to be described as different from those around her is less an insult and more a fact.

To be used and discarded, though, is a fate she understands. It's a fate she shared, in a somewhat similar way, and so she understands the grief, the rage, and the resentment exhibited by her opponent. She had felt those emotions herself when she had been locked in the One Temple for fifteen years of her life.

Right now, though, she's feeling pain. These two are a tough pair. It might be possible to win, if she unleashed the power of the True Water Rune, but that has no place in a tournament. Even if she could stave off the True Rune tearing her apart from within, she would have no way of preventing collateral damage or casualties. By their very nature, True Runes repulse efforts to restrain their power.

Despite the pain, and despite the rising temper of her opponent, Sarah remains calm. She staggers slightly, planting the spike-shod end of her staff into the ice to lean against, spitting to clear the blood from her mouth -- while she doesn't look particularly wounded, aside from where the ice had cut her or the grenade had burnt her, her own True Rune damages her as much as her opponent does. All this shielding has saved her from being bisected, maybe, but it hasn't been without cost.

She smiles a slightly bloody smile. It seems to be genuine. "I have more experience than you might expect, actually. I suppose I must not seem like much, at first look." That smile fades, and she wavers on her feet, eyes half-closing. She seems to be concentrating on something, and intensely.

"Daily I strive to keep both myself and my companion from losing ourselves to emptiness and confusion, because that is the price of the power that we bear. What you have heard about me is true. I am Water, just as Water is now me."

She looks grave, now. "Yet the price of it is this: If I do not know absolutely who I am, if I do not cling to that with all the strength of will that I have, I will be lost amidst the past bearers of the True Water Rune, since the creation of the True Runes, and the world itself. That is a very long time, Princess Samar, and that is a great many bearers; more so than I can even count."

"They live on, you know." She shifts her greatstaff, considering the groaning ice around them. The greatstaff draws a line, tracing a score through the ice, as she lifts it and moves it sideways. "Even if they are killed, and Runebearers frequently are, their memories survive in the runes that they once bore. I know everything of every man and woman who has ever borne the True Water Rune." She takes a step back, looking then to the sky, squinting and gauging the freezing wind. "I see them and hear them in my dreams; indeed, I dream their dreams."

"My apologies for speaking so much, but it is difficult to articulate these things, especially to those unfamiliar with runes or how they function." She gives a polite bob of her head, earrings clinking softly. "So -- yes. I must know myself. If I did not, I would be lost among them."

With that, she brings her staff crashing down, point-first, into the ice underfoot.

The ice beneath the symbiote begins to groan with a voice as deep as the ocean itself... and then, it begins to crack; great snapping sounds that resound in one's very teeth, as she commands the ice to tear itself asunder beneath both the Abyssal Princess and her pet.

There she waits, eyes keen on the ice beneath them, waiting for them to be lost to the cold depths.