401/WMAT BF Corvo vs. Homura vs. Ariah

WMAT BF Corvo vs. Homura vs. Ariah
Date of Scene:	12 August 2014
Location:	Papaya Island - Stadium
Synopsis:	The semi-finals of Bracket B between Corvo and Homura get interrupted by Ariah, and a three-way finals match occurs instead!
Thanks to:	Huge thanks to Malcolm for commentating, and Ariah for entertaining the idea of a 3-way battle.
Cast of Characters:	2, 56, 273, 398
Tinyplot:	WMAT 2014

---

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    The WMAT's stadium is ready.

    With the sun in the final quarter of its course in the sky but still providing both light and warmth, the crowd has gathered in the stands around the flat, smooth stone arena. The grass has been freshly installed (courtesy of the last fights that heppened here requiring it), staff has prepared shielding around the stands (perhaps explicitely because of Homura, but it can't hurt either way), and all that's missing now is the fighters.

    The commentators' booth has also been readied with ample supplies of popcorn and a beverage fountain.

    It is not long before an announcer begs the crowd to quiet down a moment, and then declares loudly a fighter is entering the arena. As he shouts Homura's name, she walks in from one side of the arena, already transformed in her Puella Magi outfit. There's no pyrotechnics or music-- that's been her 'style', apparently, just not having any showmanship.

    She steps onto the arena and crosses her arms, waiting.

    Around one wrist, the TSAB limiter beeps a few times, kicking online without an announcement. It's not a Device, after all.

    As the cameras focus on her she flips her hair casually, uncrossing her arms to let them fall to her side. Well then, looks like it's time again.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    Flat, smooth stone arena...

    Well isn't that just full of nooks and crannies and places to hide.

    Joy.

    But it's the final round. Good or bad, it's all over from here on out.

    He'd been so happy when he'd started, his first fight with Kilik was a joy, and it'd been good all the way through...

    But now, now? Now. Now there was a lead ball in his gut, and no amount of pacing had thrown it free of him, the still lurk of it sitting like a poison in his guts, an all too familiar feeling for him, but he'd take another drink, gratefully, if it meant that someone absent from out in the crowd could be there, in a heartbeat.

    Toph isn't here. She should be. But she can't...

    It's simple. One moment he's a shadow on the edge of the battlefield, and the next there's a soft flutter of billowing shadows, and there he is. Dark jacket, skull mask, hunched shoulders and all. He'd stood tall... but his heart weighs heavy, and not the one in his vest pocket.

    Not, that, he has her in his pocket this time. Perish the thought.

    He stands. Silent. Staring over at her. No words, no expression behind the glassy, grotesque almost empathic grimness of that silent metal mask.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
"Is that another witch? Sweet..."

    That comment belongs to a rather large, gruntish sort of figure who's making his way, along with a few others, towards the stadium. The stadium's growing crowd would surely have noticed the touchdown of the Firefly-class transport ship just a few hundred meters from the stadium, and the ragtag bunch of figures that make their way out from the ship, towards the stadium.

    "Just stay off the ruttin' mic this time, Jayne," fires back a voice belonging to the figure at the head of the group. He's got tight pants, and suspenders, along with a revolver-type weapon slung rakishly across his hip.

    "Don't know what kinda luck didn't get us kicked out last time," the captain continues, referring to the crew's previous adventure as commentators, more or less on accident. "Didn't even have to pay 'em for the seats or nothin'.." he adds.

    The crew makes their way on up the stairs, and is escorted into the commentator's box. The ship's bright-eyed mechanic gives an impressed 'Oooh' at all the fixings in the booth, and races off with a few of the others to acquire food and drink. Mal heads for the microphone.

    "Well, good evening ladies, gents, and...other things..." he adds, as a section of the crowd composed of what look like headless robots catches his sharp eye. They've painted their metallic chests with the letters C-O-V-R-O. Seems spelling isn't their thing.

    "Fixin' to see a pretty interesting matchup today! Got ourselves a fine example of a magic user off in the east corner. That's Homura!" Half of the crowd goes ballistic, and Homura's name goes up in a loud, ear-piercing chant from her supporters.

    "Got ourselves a swordsman in the other corner!" calls out Mal, as Corvo's supporters start screaming themselves up into a frenzy. "Quite the....jolly-lookin' sort, ain't he? That's Corvo!"

    The Corvo fan-bots have their mistake pointed out by someone in Jedi robes, and they hurriedly re-arrange. It spells C-R-O-O-V now. Well, nobody's perfect.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     The proceedings are interrupted by a loud series of sharp reports. What's unmistakably automatic gunfire comes from one of the arena stands, the bullets tearing a sharp, straight line up the fighting ring, right between the two awaiting competitors. A figure in white, the barrel of a Hyperion sub-machinegun raised high and smoking, starts her descent down the stairs towards the arena. The big screen superimposes a Hyperion logo as the camera zooms in on the woman in white, reminding all of the tournament's sponsor for several seconds, a line of text running along the bottom edge showing her weapon's specifications.

     Every step taken is punctuated by a drum beat as an accordion sounds out on the speakers like a championship wrestler's introduction music heralding the arrival. 'Come with me now... come with me now...' a hushed male voice sings, changing more into a shout as Ariah jumps down from the edge of the stands and onto the grass surrounding the arena. 'Whoa, come with me now! I'm gonna take you down! Whoa, come with me now! I'm gonna show you how!'

     Staff in one hand, firearm in the other, she traverses the grass at a brisk pace, hooded cloak shielding her visage, at least until she hops up onto the edge of the ring, cloth cowl slipping free of her short, platinum hair. The song continues as she walks down the line her magazine-emptying had created on the stone surface. 'Afraid to lose control. And caught up in this world. I've wasted time, I've wasted breath. I think I've thought myself to death. I was born without this fear. Now only this seems clear: I need to move, I need to fight, I need to lose myself tonight.' As the chorus of 'Whoa, come with me now!' starts again, the volume of the song dies down.

     "I will not accept a free ticket to the final round. I have earned my place every step of the way in these arenas... and I will not let random chance decide my place in this hallowed event," the ice queen says as cold and calm as usual, popping the empty mag from her firearm and sliding a fresh one in, the self-loading carriage system humming quietly as it secures the new load, a tiny beep confirming it. "If I fall to you both here, then I take third. There is no shame in it, but I will not sit idly by while you two fight. A guaranteed pass to second place leaves a sour taste in my mouth." She holds her staff forward, sweeping the end from Homura to Corvo, then back.

     "Allow me this."

( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gz2GVlQkn4Q )

<J-IC-Moderated> French accent, icy, Ariah says, "I will not accept a free ticket to the final round. I have earned my place every step of the way in these arenas... and I will not let random chance decide my place in this hallowed event," she exhales, "If I fall to you both here, then I take third. There is no shame in it, but I will not sit idly by while you two fight. A guaranteed pass to second place leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Allow me this."
<J-IC-Moderated> Homura Akemi says, "... so a three-way? Hn. If Mister Satan will allow it... we are all here and ready."
<J-IC-Moderated> Mister Satan makes a sound like DONK that is probably his jaw falling open and hitting the ground.
<J-IC-Moderated> Mister Satan says, "Ah -- ah -- aaah, Miss Ariah! If this what you wish to do -- if your competitors allow it -- then I see no reason to deny you such a courageous and bold action!"
<J-IC-Moderated> Homura Akemi says, "If my opponent has no objections."
<J-IC-Moderated> Corvo Attano says, "M'lady Ariah, I would be honored to accept you into our final match. As you have said, you've earned your place every step of the way, and this last step is no exception. There is no shame in it, no matter what comes by the morrow. I allow you this."
<J-IC-Moderated> Beelzebumon says, "Fuck yeah. Screw the bye, be a bawss."
<J-IC-Moderated> Mister Satan speaks in a way that evokes a heroic fanfare. "You are a magnificent competitor to embrace such a challenge! Truly, this is what elevates our champions into LEGENDS! Very well! And -- what, where did this poster come from already..."
<J-IC-Moderated> French accent, icy, Ariah says, "My thanks to you all. Corvo, Homura, Mister Satan. Ready yourselves."
<J-IC-Moderated> Arthur Lowell pants, as if after exertion. "Now THIS shit I didn't expect outta ANYONE. Hell YEAH, let's see you DO this! That's RAD."
<J-IC-Moderated> Homura Akemi says, "Very well then. On the announcer's mark."
<J-IC-Moderated> Medusa Gorgon says, "... interesting."
<J-IC-Moderated> Malcolm Reynolds says, "PBBBBT! Is that the witch from last time? Aw HELL yeah! She was there last time you broke in here, Mal.... Bit that cowboy, too. Right in the neck.... I'll be in my b-" *different voice* "Your bunk's back on the ship, Jayne... Anyway! That's...ah.. well, Ariah just got here! Can she...can she do that? Well, looks like we got ourselves a three way! Ariah! Got an itchy trigger finger, a dead shot, and some pretty sharp fangs... This will most definitely be interesting!"

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    All heads turn towards Ariah. Towards the music. Towards that entrance. DAT ENTRANCE.

    "PBBBBBBBT!" That's the sound of Jayne literally doing a spit take. Droplets of beer from a rather large mug of frothy liquid hit the glass, actually making it even harder for the commentators to identify just what in the 'Verse is going on "Is that the witch from last time? Aw HELL yeah!" says Jayne, apparently forgetting that the mic is still on.

    "She was there last time you broke in here, Mal." Yep, the mic's still getting all of this. "Bit that guy too... Right in the neck..." he adds, a slow sort of grin on his features. "I'll be in my b-"

    "Your bunk's back on the ship, Jayne.." points out a serious-looking, dark skinned woman. She crooks a brow at the larger man, before shaking her head ruefully. She motions to Mal, who turns back to the microphone.

    "That's...ah... Well, Ariah just got here! Can she... can she do that?" asks the captain. He covers the mic, and looks back to his crew. "-Can- she do that?" he repeats. With no reply, and with Jayne now trying to make off with the entire pitcher of beer instead of pouring it into a mug, the captain turns back to the mic.

    "Well, looks like we got ourselves a three way!"

    "Aw, hell y-" starts Jayne, before being cut off by an elbow from Zoe. Judging by the look in his eyes, he probably was envisioning something else.

    "Ariah! Got an itchy trigger finger, a dead shot, and some pretty sharp fangs! This will most definitely be interesting.."

    There's a massive shaking from the gates of the stadium, as a steady stream of figures start literally -climbing- the gates. Ariah's fans are here, folks. One particularly plucky fellow makes his way all the way down to the front row seats, which is surprising, for a figure with a stomach as large as his. He gives a large WHOOP, and tears his shirt off, swinging it over his head. There's something on the figure's stomach... Some kind of tattoo. Is that...?

    Yep. It's Ariah's face.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    The commentators certainly are lively this time. As a whole crew, no less. That's bound to provide good background noise.

    As the announcer readies to start the fight, Ariah interrupts; and what an entrance. The line of fire forces the Puella Magi to produce a pistol of her own and level it towards the intruder; and she listens, as she makes her way down with all the drama her request demands.

    Though tense, Homura eventually eases up.

    And with Mister Satan's blessing, welcomes the twist.

    This entire tournament is an excuse for practice. Win or lose, it's all been useful. And this is going to be even better. And, obviously, harder.

    It takes staff a few moments to get back into position.

    The announcer finally brings the lights online.

    "WELL THEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! BE READY! CONTESTANTS..."

    Fireworks go off, loud, clear and bright.

    "FIGHT!"

    Homura doesn't move, but blurry motions around her indicate magic has been used, and a few rubber rounds are headed straight for Corvo and Ariah's chests. Riot control bullets, they won't be drawing blood, but they still have some punch, especially coming out of nowhere.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    And Corvo lifts his head, his eyes wide behind the mask, watching Ariah arrive, watching her speak.

    He's silent... till it all sort of comes home to him.

    His reaction is small.

    A small and simple nod.

    And then, because, dammit he's Serkonian, he'd sweep into an elaborate spanish-seeming bow, his movements prompt and snapping, coat swirling dramatically behind him, body having regained a little bit of his previous Serkonian liquid wiryness. "M'lady Ariah, I would be honored to accept you into our final match. As you have said, you've earned your place every step of the way, and this last step is no exception. There is no shame in it, no matter what comes by the morrow. I allow you this."

    No matter the morrow, he is glad for the day he has. He's always glad for the day he has.

    And then bullets! They strike him in the chest, the bonded galvani weave of his vest absorbing a lot of it but it knocks him back and he curses, wincing at the bruises promising to form underneath.

    Cursing, he leaps, twisting around in midair and whips out a little black box which clicks and unfolds into a collapsing crossbow, a little model barely big enough to throw much oomph around, and the little black bolts aren't much bigger than pencils, paintbrushes maybe, not the heavy quarrels of most crossbows, and the bolts would pepper at the two of them, his hand a blur and the little thing clicking and firing with a fluidity not oftentime seen in a crossbow, even a techie one like this.

Ariah (56) has posed:
It's as much an excuse for practice for Ariah as well, not to mention earning a deeper understanding of the various combatants in the Multiverse that she will inevitably face--or fight alongside--in the future. She lets her smg slide down on its strap, resting at her hip as she awaits acceptance, then emits a tiny sigh of relief. The familiar voices in the announcer booth actually bring a small smile to her lips, tugging at the corners. And the... rotund fan with the belly tattoo immediately turns it back into a neutral expression.

     She just shakes her head, takes a breath, and brings her staff forward, planting it, much like she had in all previous fights, in the ground at equidistant points from her toes. Triangle formed, equilibrium achieved, she awaits the go sign.

     Then it's off to the races.

     Projectiles, everywhere. The rubber bullets strike her dead in the chest as she backpedals, her uniform containing less than optimal ballistic protection. At the crossbow bolts, she brings her arm up, snatching a few of them out of the air with her superhuman speed, though more than a couple more go through her sleeve and into her arm, drawing blood that begins to soak the garment.

     The impacts don't slow her, if anything they spur her into moving faster. The runes on her staff start to glow as she channels energy into them, leaving the projectiles stuck in her arm for the time being. Getting more distance from the pair, she lets the mana gather, then coalesce into twin spheres that orbit the end of her staff. A hard swing, and they both are sent towards the other two opponents. One volleyball sized orb of bright white-blue energy, seeking towards the fast moving pair and exploding with concussive force and heat when they get near enough.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    "Homura's shootin'! That didn't take long.." calls Mal, reaching to wipe some of Jayne's beer-droplets from the glass screen. "Looks like a fair decent hit, too." He narrows his eyes, peering down at the central field. "Those bullets made out of rubber?"

    "But Corvo fires back! With something...not made of rubber. Looks like a, aw hell, some kind of crossbow? And two more solid hits!" he adds, as a redheaded man, a bit shorter than the captain, nudges his way up towards the man in tight pants, and the microphone.

    By now, the headless robots are cheering through their voiceboxes, still terribly misspelling the swordsman's name, and Ariah's shirtless tattoo man is still spinning his shirt around. He reaches down to slap his belly, making tattoo-Ariah's face sort of jiggle around, almost as though she's changing expressions.

    "Got some kind of magic, here..." says Mal, as Ariah starts shooting those little explosive orbs. "Corvo gets grazed, but oooh. Homura catches that one hard!" By now, the redheaded pilot has sidled closer, clearly intending to make a grab at the microphone in a moment or two.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    First come Corvo's bolts; actual pistol rounds blur into existence, streaking and intercepting some (but not all) of the crossbow's load, at least what's aimed for Homura. The other bolts lodge themselves into her magical girl clothes-- not piercing skin, although tearing through the (magically reinforced) cloth nonetheless. She snaps them out with her empty hand, but in the distraction...

    The orb of light explodes, catching Homura in the blast. She shields herself with a shimmer of purple light, but her protection seems to shatter like glass moments after the impact, leaving her slightly bruised and sorched by the direct hit.

    Homura frowns, gaze locking onto Ariah.

    "As it was no coincidence any of us three made it this far, I see no purpose in holding back beyond the requirements of this bracket. Please show me your best as well," she says, an order, but not one that needed spoken. Surely those two were not planning to hold back either.

    Homura takes a step forward, suddenly reappearing before Ariah in a flash-step. Her empty hand now holds a wicked black blade, a Regisword, a chess motif around the hilt and pommel. She brings it down for a quick downward strike, hoping to test Ariah's melee defenses.

    Corvo is not ignored-- Homura's other hand is still holding a pistol, and it lets loose a volley of shimmering purple bullets when she levels it towards him. They seem a bit faster than standard bullets would be, and if time went by quicker for them. They're aimed for the arms, mostly.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    Bollocks.

    'whf'

    It catches him even as he blinks, moved from here to there by the Outsider's strange energies, and he shivers as he moves. Close. Too close. Entirely too close... he did not want to catch that. Too much- he has to do this quick, quick and hard.

    Or there's no way he'll make it.

    Burn mana like water, move like the wind, move like death, even if he doesn't bring it with him. He braces, as he lands, his hand whipping to the handle of a sword at his waist. He pulls it free, the odd thing, and squeezes it a bit, flipping it as it flicks about, clacking open... and the collapsible sword lances out, clicking into place into a gleaming dark blade, edge glossy and sharp- and his arm flashes, even as he blinks again, the teleport trying to put him near Ariah- where his arm would blur...

    Never to harm, but to bleed and hurt, hurt and bleed, slashes and stabs, not enough to scar or wound, but to put down tired and bleeding... and catches a bullet in the shoulder for his trouble. Thankfully, the vest. Thankfully. He spins, pushed away by the impact... and there's another 'whf', before Homura would get the same treatment, his movements careful and knowing and coordinated, that mask grim and unfeeling as he appears in a flash of shadow and blade.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     Ariah is quick, but dealing with teleporting magi is not even somethign she's had to deal with in her own world. But that's why broadening one's horizons and getting beat up by them is a learning experience.

     Her eyes widen when Homura gets too close for comfort, runes on her staff still glowing, flaring bright when that downward slash comes. She brings the metal length upwards, magical sparks flying off of it from the impact against the black blade. Her footing is off, her grip making the parry awkward enough so that the weapon bites into her shoulder, not quite cutting through her uniform, a saving grace of the -very- momentary barrier she puts up.

     And more teleportation. Corvo's in her face next, and her staff is locked with Homura's sword. She uses her free arm, swinging it against the one holding that shortblade, catching the edge on the back of her hand and driving the bolts still in her arm deeper, but sparing her a knife in the chest instead. Then she huffs, eyes gleaming purple momentarily.

     She sweeps a foot back, pulls her staff close and swings it hard towards the ground--where Corvo and Homura should still be close together from the flurry of melee action. Energy rushes through her arms, and her staff, and she slams it into the ground like a sledgehammer. Even the square head of such a tool is visible, mana wrapped around the staff for a moment, sending a shockwave of concussive force towards her two opponents to get them away from her--hopefully.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    "Well, those probably hurt a little more than rubber bullets..." says a new voice, belonging to the redheaded man now standing behind the microphone. Mal's gone over to swipe a glass of beer, filled from the pitcher that Jayne is still trying to use as a mug, much to Zoe's insistence otherwise.

    "Gees...Hits both of them, too.." the man commentates, as Homura's shots find home. The woman's section of the stands go wild, as something starts to...bounce around that part of the stadium. It looks vaguely like Homura, though probably much more like her if one has been drinking a good bit, and it's a sure bet that most of those fans have been. What is clear, though, is that a massive inflatable float shaped like the woman is currently being bounced around her section of the stands, probably twenty-five or thirty feet in height. Somehow, miraculously, they keep it standing up.

    "Corvo's gettin' up close... Ah, finally. A more traditional approach," says Wash, as the swordsman gets up close and personal with his blades, hitting the other two with some combinations. One of the headless fan-bots has left to go to the oilroom, or whatever robots do when they leave their seats at sporting events. The poor group of androids now spell out R-O-O-V. At least they're enthusiastic about it.

    "Ariah's got some kind of shockwave!" the pilot shouts, trying to pick the microphone up as he stands for a better view. Unfortunately, this type of device is bolted into the table, and Wash just succeeds in tripping, catching the microphone right in the gut.

    Ariah's tattooed and belly-shaking fan continues to go crazy down in his corner of the stands, whipping her supporters up into a frenzy. The uniformed security officials are paying a bit more attention to that section, now.

    "She started bitin' anyone yet?" asks Jayne, setting down his pitcher/mug and starting in the direction of the glass and microphone. "DIBS!" he shouts, making a grab for the mic once Wash fumbles.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Corvo comes in, close and personal too.

    Homura discards the pistol; before it even hits the floor of the arena, a second Regisword appears into her hand in a brief, dim flash of purple light, and she brings it up to slam into Corvo's blade. He can tell, immediatly, she is physically weaker than he is. If he pushes, for any substantial amount of time, he will win the weapon lock. As she starts to lose ground and her arm aches, Ariah has already chosen to make use of their situation.

    The shockwave separates Corvo and Homura, with the Puella Magi vainly trying to shield herself with both blades. It doesn't really work! She tumbles on the ground, rolls for a moment, and darts back up on one knee, grunting a little bit.

    "Rewind."

    As she attempts to recover, she seems to make no further attacks. Time around Ariah and Corvo warps, though, and calls in strikes from the past. The very same strike that attempted to hit Ariah top to bottom is now playing in reverse, attempting to cut her bottom to stop, up front. And Corvo gets another hail of bullets, these ones coming from behind. They're rewinding, too. That makes them a bit harder to see coming, but not too much more threatening. In fact, his new position means a bunch of them'll miss by default.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    Bollocks! He's thrown back, back and up, thrown like a doll through the air, and is left to reflect why he doesn't USE this on most hapless guardsmen as he flies, his sense of up and down screwed all to hell, leaving him ill and dizzy- and then he hits the ground, rashing and skidding- the coat protects him some, although he actually loses a boot, a boot! It goes flying! Plop.

    Poor poor boot.

    He isn't one to lay there, kicking up as quick as he may, although there's a wince to him as he does it, his body creaking and aching, his steps a touch uneven with one damn boot on. Clomp thud clomp thud clomp! And he leaps, again, trying to make a cut at Homura on his way by- before reaching into his jacket and-

    Grabs the wrong damn thing

    It's a solid metal canteen rather than- whatever the hell else he was grabbing that he picks up and WHIPS at Ariah's head, his face invisible under the mask but the slight wince of the shoulders showing the flub- wait, did he just chuck a water bottle at her head? He's gone, another damn teleport! But the bullets ghost at him, almost catching him, and he's left shaky and weak again as he hits, shivering and shaking his head.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     Always more surprises! Ariah has her staff down and in both hands as that blade comes back up. Her parry is awkward, but the blade bites more into metal and arm than it can her face, which is a clear blessing as though blood soaks her uniform, the wounds beneath the cloth seal themselves. "Quite the unique ability," she compliments, voice still icy, unstrained despite the wounds sustained.

     As she straightens up, she brings her teeth to her arm, pulling the leftover crossbow bolts out one by one, spitting them to the floor of the arena as she centers herself. Perhaps she'd gotten herself into a situation a bit deeper than she'd expected, but there's something deep down that finds this challenge entertaining. And that smile returns.

     --until a canteen thunks her right on the side of the head, her vision blurring for but a moment as she shakes it off. She narrows her eyes at the weakened Corvo and the briefly resting Homura before she clenches her fingers around both ends of her staff. Then she's on the move.

     Even if the witch can't teleport, her vampiric speed gives her some serious get up and go. Corvo earns her ire first, for the canteen, and what looks to be a scythe blade formed out of that blue-white energy jutting from the end of her staff. She swings the weapon in a wide arc, looking to cut into the assassin, and she keeps her motion up.

     Coming into a full 180, her momentum swings the staff towards the further-off Homura, and the energy blade detaches from the end of her staff, spiralling towards the magi like some kind of deadly magical boomerang, solid and sharp-edged.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    "Hoe-moora's movin'..." says Jayne, always the one to mispronounce names. "Well, she's... What in the black?" says the gruntish man, squinting down at the field as he tries to make out what in the 'Verse Homura just did.

    "Temporal adjustment of the space-time continuum, negatively adjusting the forward series," replies a deadpan voice that belongs to a dark-haired teenaged girl, with her forehead now pressed against the glass.

    "Try and keep up," she says, flicking her gaze in Jayne's direction. She continues to watch, unblinkingly, with her head pressed up against the glass.

    "Well... uhh..." Jayne starts, making a loopy-head gesture with one hand, for the crowd's benefit. Because they can totally see that.

    "Hoe-moora does a...negative...reversalization of the space...time continuing..." he says, before nodding emphatically. "She hits them with the same stuff as before!" he decides, shouting that part. Jayne flashes River a wide grin, as he figures that one out, or at least, seems to think he did.

    "Corvo chucks a canteen!?" he continues, blinking in confusion. "No, no!" shouts the man, as though instructing the swordsman. "Toss a grenade or something sharp!"

    "Jayne! Tell them what's happening!" cuts in Zoe.

    "Ary-uh is movin' again... She's got that staff.. Just bite the chick already" he shouts, before ducking away from a headsmack that comes from Zoe's direction. "She hit em, though! Nice!"

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    No time to rest, even with the distraction.

    It's not long before Corvo figures out to just go for Homura regardless of whether or not she's visibly attacking. His sword slams into one of her Regiswords again, and she winces; she either just broke something in her arm or the impact was painful as hell. At least, she doesn't have a gash in her stomach, but this is only marginally better.

    She's not going to let Ariah take advantage of this lock again though.

    As the hurled scythe blade comes spinning for her, Homura blurs and disappears, the weapon passing where she used to be standing. A slight delay on her part means when she reappears-- immediatly, really-- she's got a gash in her shoulder from the attack.

    On the other hand, no more Regiswords.

    Two grenades roll on the ground, one at Corvo's feet, one at Ariah's feet. They certainly weren't there a moment ago. As she keeps her distance from both fighters, the Puella Magi takes a moment to inspect her wound and frown.

    An assault rifle is produced and she opens fire wildly towards both opponents, using the grenades as a feint. She has a very strange idea of feinting.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    BOLLOCKS!

    Grenade!

    And the feint works. It really does- he's leaping back, and back, again? In midair? Yeah. In midair-

    Only to get thrown again. BULLETS! More bullets! More bullets... blood flows, pumping softly beneath the jacket, the vest, soaking his undershirt and running down into his boot, leaving him with a single bloody footprint on one side across the Arena as he rises, taking a few shaky steps...

    He's burned out his mana. And he just doesn't have enough time to sink down a quick Piero's, wincing at the bitter burn of it AND be safe... but to hell with it.

    Another blink, right between them, and it's HIS turn to throw shockwaves around- not enough to kill, but the blast of air would be throwing THEM around now, hopefully giving him a moment to bloody BREATHE.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     As the grenade goes off at Ariah's feet, she tells herself that this sort of thing really, really needs to stop happening to her. But at least explosives like that aren't uncommon from her time period, and as the explosion engulfs her, the crowd and her opponents can see the shimmering sight of a half-sphere shield coming up before the witch. The shell of mana becomes completely opaque from the way it has to endure the blast, and it gets pushed back several feet, the concussive force not entirely mitigated.

     The witch's shield becomes transparent again, several cracks and fractures in it like a glass dome, damaged from the explosion. She's forced to take a knee, gripping her staff in both hands, runes flickering and pulsing. Then the hail of bullets comes, her shield making a much bigger target than her short self does.

     More runes flicker and some wink out entirely as holes and pockmarks appear in the shell, soon the whole thing shattering like the glass it resembles in several places, leaving a handful of stray rifle rounds to cut into her uniform on the sides and shoulders, leaving bloody red trails and spatters on the stone.

     She's too focused on Homura, trying to keep any more bullets from filling her, and seeing Corvo take to the sky earns a worried glance. Her shield is already in shambles, and she pulls the mana back into her body before the shockwaves hit. Ariah is small, and light, and easily knocked around the arena. She braces herself, tumbled, bruised, what looks like the bone of one of her arms broken and poking through one of the holes in her sleeve left by a sword.

     She hauls herself to her feet, battered, dusty, but snaps the bone back into place with a faint growl and -rushes- Homura.

     She lets her staff hang in her still-regenerating arm, pulling her SMG up in her other hand. She opens fire, the gun's recoil-compensation unit working well with her inhuman strength, sending a short burst towards the magi as she closes in. Then a pair of blades snap out from the sides as she tries to thrust them into the other 'witch' and slice away to the side. Corvo isn't ignored, either, her thrust-slash directing the barrel of the gun towards him next, sending the rest of the bullets in the magazine in his direction with a steady, rapid crackle of clear, loud bursts.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
"Oh look! SOMEONE let her bring grenades!" commentates Jayne, looking back to give Mal a pointed sort of look. The captain just rolls his eyes, and polishes off his beer, as he steps back up to command the mic.

    "Aw, come on Mal, just lemme stay until she bites the other chick..." pleads Jayne. But to no avail.

    Homura's got some grenades, and is shootin' something a bit more violent than rubber rounds, to boot!" says Mal. Homura's section is still batting around that gigantic balloon-Homura. After Homura scores her hits, they quickly reveal their next tactic. And this takes the form of large, carboard-mounted face-shots that are held up and waved around, like someone might in another universe for an NBA game. There's a large picture of Serori's face, giving a very stern sort of look, another of Toph making a cheery sort of grin, and yet another of Medusa, her tentacled hair played by several other fans holding large, inflatable snakes that surround the massive mug shot of the woman. There's even a mug shot of Master Chief, with a pair of angry eyebrows helpfully painted on his visor above where his eyes would be. Himei also makes an appearance, as someone's gotten a head shot of the young schoolgirl making a surprised sort of expression, and mounted it up on a pole. Countless figures from across the Multiverse have their mugshots blown up to a massive size, and are now mounted on cardboard, put up on poles, and shaken around to try and distract Ariah and Corvo. An interesting, and certainly unconventional, tactic.

    Ah, but Corvo's fans have a reply. And it's more sophisticated and grammatical than the fan-bots, who now have their fifth member returned, spelling out O-V-O-R-C now. One fan up near the front raises a flag, which must be a signal of sorts. As one, all of the Corvo-section raise up large colored tiles above their heads, giving the section the appearance of being a pixelated face of sorts. Homura's face. And she certainly looks a bit more exaggerated than she does in real life. Some of the board flip, changing colors, making it seem as though the massive animated-Homura is surprised, and recoiling in fear.

    "Our swordsman's got a bit more magic up his sleeve..." says Mal, grinning a bit at his own joke. "Tosses another one of those shockwaves at the other two, and oooh. Ariah gets smashed by that one!"

    The dueling displays between Corvo and Homura's section continiues. But Ariah's fans are nothing if not determine. Tatooed Belly Man up front has acquired a drum, now. A big drum. And he's beating on it with a pair of mallets as, from somewhere near the rear of the section, people start passing forward a large, massive sort of thing. How the HELL did they sneak this past security. It's roughly human-shaped, but the thing is almost fifty feet long, and is covered in large tarps as the crowd passes it along overhead. A few strong-look fans join Tattooed Belly Man and his drum up front, hauling several large ropes attached to the gigantic thing they've constructed. As they begin to pull on the ropes and hoist the thing up to a standing position, the tarps begin to fall.

    It couldn't be....

    It's a gigantic effigy of Ariah. Painted, and carrying a large, sharp-looking knife. Belly Man's drumbeat picks up tempo, as another rope is pulled.

    Gigantic-Ariah breathes fire. Her section is just going ballistic, now, and even the security officials are starting to back off.

    "Ariah's got a gun, too! A nice one, at that. Looks like she's done Homura a nice hit or two, there!" shouts the captain, unable to resist looking over at the massive Ariah-effigy, which is nearly as tall as the commentator's box.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Corvo releases a burst of wind; Homura starts glowing, and a purple cover and diamonds and light forms a bubble around her. It seems to stop the wind just fine, although it requires effort from the Puella Magi, who doesn't specialize in defensive magic in the slightest.

    The bullets slam into her shield-- and soon enough, it cracks and breaks in place, no better than glass against the assault. Ariah closes in, apparently REALLY wanting a piece of Homura there. The blades slice into Homura, pretty harshly at that, opening two large bloody gashes from shoulder to chest. The wounds don't take very long to seal-- not close, just seal. Her regeneration isn't quite on that level.

    But things are heating up.

    The assault rifle is discarded to the arena floor, and instead Homura reaches up towards the sky. Despite the complete lack of clouds, purple lightning strikes down, into her hand.

    "TYRFING!"

    The initial shockwave from the lightning bolt isn't too harmful, but what she does next definitely is. As the lightning forms into a thunderbolt-shaped purple black, Homura lowers it, and with that gesture commands a series of lightning strikes to pelt the arena.

    Notably, Corvo and Ariah both.

    All this, while the Puella Magi attempts, very hard, to ignore the fans and the crowd. It's not really her thing-- the other arenas she'd fought in didn't have such direct views of the crowd and their reactions. It's unique, to say the least. And humbling.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    No. No more bullets. NO MORE.

    He doesn't care if he is almost out of mana, he's doing it by hand- or foot in this case. Leaving a single bloody footprint every other lurching step he runs and DIVES, hitting the ground and rolling, wincing and hissing in pain, his padded gear mostly silent save for when he just hits wrong and loses a few crossbow bolts to clatter and patter across the stones.

    Pulling himself up with a roll he throws himself forward, the blade out again, clicking and unfolding. But guess what, the blade is a feint, and the grenades are the attack this time!

    It takes a lot of timing to do this by the way. Just cook them long enough that when you launch them out, throwing them full-force into both the girls chests, that they'd bounce far enough away that only a bit of the concussive shockwave of the somewhat primitive whale-oil grenades reaches them. Just enough to hurt... He never kills. He never risks. But rocking someone a bit in answer for what else had happened? That's fine.

    Every now and again.

    And... the... lightning, hits home.

    It's like being caught in a wall of light... it races, running all through him. He screams. He thinks he screamed.

    He doesn't remember.

    He's lying, on the ground. He twitches, smoking. He. Ow. Ow... get up, get UP.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     Lightning. Real lightning. Ariah's eyes flicker, but not with fear, with something else. Instead of trying to dodge the incoming lightning bolts, she tries to -catch- them. Her staff sweeps wide, arcing swings sideways, above, below. Her fingers start to smoke a little bit, it's clear she's getting cooked a tiny bit, but the runes on her staff light up with every strike, and even moreso, the runes etched under her flesh, in her bones, become a shining beacon through the torn holes in her sleeves. She's coursing with power.

     But it's distracting, as she's filling up, blade and grenade are coming towards her. She swings her glowing staff to parry the feint, and gets hit in the chest with the explosive. Her backpedalling sends her somersaulting to the floor of the arena, tumbling. But still glowing. She breathes, hard, and glares at the assassin. He's laying there, twitching, vulnerable, and she's still bleeding.

     Digging her staff into the ground, she pulls herself forward, lurching for a moment, then taking off at top speed. No blade, no swing of her staff, instead she grips for the collar around his neck, pulling at the cloth. It's as clear as she had with Jericho, her fangs extending as she opens her mouth and she goes for the neck. She's not trying to kill him, no, just hold him down long enough for a drink... a long, replenishing drink. Her fingers crackle with energy, trying to keep him held down long enough.

     When she pulls free, her lips and teeth are stained red, her eyes glowing bright purple, shining as intensely and radiantly as the runes covering her arms and her staff. The staff which she points at Homura. Smoke rises from her fingers and the metal shaft as heat and power pump through it--and out the end. A beam of pure mana, superheated and blindingly bright lances across the arena towards the magi, a massive laser blast by another name.

     It's a good thing those shields were put up in front of the stands. Too bad Ariah isn't breathing this out, otherwise she'd match her cute effigy better.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    "Homura's throwing lightning, now..." starts the captain, looking rather surprised as he commentates on that. He's seen a lot, but that's a new one, for sure. "Nails them both, too!"

    Homura's section goes crazy, as their champion scores a pair of hits. They shake those massive mugshots of Master Chief, Medusa, Serori, and countless others in triumph. There's a bit of a scuffle as someone from Ariah's section tosses a flare that nails cardboard-Serori right in the face, lightning the picture's hair on fire. The dedicated fan continues to wave the picture around, though, much to his credit. Cardboard-Serori, for her part, just looks even more pissed off.

    "Some more grenades comin' in from Corvo.." says Mal, as Jayne looks up and gives the captain another purposeful sort of glance. "Looks like he caught Ariah with that one!"

    As their hero lands a solid hit on the vampire-mage, Corvo's section flips a couple of those boards they're carrying. Suddenly, the pixelated image changes to Ariah, recoiling in pain. Someone tosses a flare, and as some more boards flip, the scene animates an explosion. Pretty sophisticated display, for a crowd of seemingly-crazy fans.

    And then there's Belly Man and Ariah's fans. And they put seemingly-crazy to shame. These people are certifiably insane. The mega-Ariah is still breathing fire through a pair of large fangs that are wrapped in tin foil to make them glint in the stadium's light. The drumbeat continues, and the fans continue to just go absolutely rabid. Belly Man's drum is eventually comandeered by a pair of shirtless fans, and the massive tatooed figure is tossed up and down by the crowd, still waving his shirt around like a madman.

    "Ariah's going in....." calls Mal, leaning forward. "And..." Whatever the captain would have said next is cut off by Jayne.

    "AW HELL YEAH!" shouts the big man, shoulder the captain off of the microphone. "'Bout ruttin' time, too!" he says, grinning widely as Ariah catches the man with her fangs. "Ariah takes a nice bite out of Corvo, then takes out Homura with a laser, too!" he shouts.

    "Wish she'd bite the chick, too.." he muses, looking to Zoe with a sly sort of expression. And once again, he doesn't cover the mic.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    The fact Corvo has exactly as many things in his pockets as Homura tends to is vexing. It means she can't predict him. She taught he was just one of those assassins; blades, a crossbow, maybe a few tricks other tricks. But the burst of wind, and now grenades, plus his erratic movements, have all but proven her wrong. She doesn't stick around; she too seems able to teleport, not sticking around when the man tries to trick and then gut her. With a flash-step, she reappears closer to the center of the arena, to the side.

    Unfortunately Ariah had plans of her own, and nowhere is safe.

    Brilliant wings of pink light form on Homura's back, and they curl up around her protectively as the beam is let loose. It crashes into her, engulfing her entirely. When the lightshow dies down, leaving a huge, linear crater around her, she stands in the middle, the wings flickering and disappearing.

    She's scorched, exhausted, and visibly beat.

    And in pain.

    Tyrfing crackles, the lightning disappearing inside Homura, along with the sword, as it returns to that state. She produces, instead, a massive black bow, inlaid by a purple gem, and a shining bowstring of light. She aims it up, without delay, towards the sky.

    She could probably shout an attack name, but...
    Oh, what the hell. It's for the show.

    "Arrow of Light!"

    The bowstring tenses, and a massive arrow of purple-pink light and lightning forms between her fingers. She fires it up into the sky, and it explodes above the arena, illuminating it. A storm of smaller arrows rains down-- harmless, if beautiful, to the crowd, but dangerous to Ariah and Corvo. The arrows come down with concussive force, some electricity, and a bit of heat. There's too many to count.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    He tries to push at her, but his fingers are all stupid... slow and almost languid, weak as a child- the lightning plays through him and his cry is weak at best as the fangs sink into him, piercing his flesh... and the flow starts, fast and hot, leaving him cold and slow as it leaves him, falling, falling, falling like sand... and he'd be falling if he wasn't already laying down, held in place by weakness and lightning as his life is drank, a hot salty gulp at a time.

    Then she leaves him, and he bleeds softly, the blood pressure lower now, his heart fluttering, struggling in his chest...

    He's so tired now.

    So tired...

    And then everything is light. Pain and sound and light... till the pain, and the sound end, and then all is light.

    He looks around, looking for the purplish glow. Wanting it. Wanting it... it's a long time, and he's so tired... he wants, to just, sleep. Just a little while...

    Just a little while, and then he can go, and find her...

    But he, can't.

    He can't.

    Laying there, his eyes closed, his body battered by the falling light, he's still...

    And then his eyes open.

    It's not visible, under the mask. But his hand lifts, a soft whisper... and the falling lights just... stop. Nobody would be able to see what he's doing, what happened.

    But for him the lines of light just, stop. And he rises. And he walks, among the light, walks. Slow and tired, walks. Blood, trailing after him. One shoe gone. Arm around his other, the bullets just, all through him. Before Ariah.

    He doesn't hate her. He doesn't begrudge her... but he has to hurt her. Or she won't stop. The blade comes up... and the cuts and jabs are surgeon-precise, his skill with the blade evident... or would be, on the surgeon's table. Not to die, but just to hurt, he seeks to lay her down. Step. Stab. Turn... cut. Twist, line up... and jab. And he's done.

    Then to Homura. Time, almost up. He's so tired... again. A cut. A jab, a set of slight lances, opening up a wound just a bit more, letting the blood flow. Past Ariah... his fingers, brief, on her bloodied lips. His blood. His eyes are conflicted, disturbed, under the mask... and then time comes CRASHING down around him, along with a dozen dozen falling stars, and blood, just blood everywhere...

Ariah (56) has posed:
     Ariah feels full, pleasantly full. Not of magic, her reserves are about shot and she's feeling a little bit cooked from the sheer expenditure of that focused blast. No, full of what sustains her, fresh blood. Corvo's crimson still paints her lips though she's hidden her fangs again. And she's pulling away from Corvo as quickly as she can, being so close to the well-equipped and highly-skilled assassin is dangerous.

     Just as dangerous as the rain of magical arrows coming down around and upon her. She has nowhere to run, hardly enough magic to conjure a shield, but her body is running on high from the quick meal. So she endures it. The magic-mitigating effect of her battered uniform keeps most of the arrows from digging deep, but she becomes, briefly, very much a magical pincushion. Her clothing is almost stained completely red on one side from the assault, and she leans on her staff, taking short, if purely reflexive, breaths through her teeth.

     For all the damage the arrows did, they give her something else. The energy, the last bit, drops in an almost empty tank. And she starts taking steps towards Homura, leaving Corvo behind on the ground. He's still there, right? She jerks her head, looking, and eyes widening. Then she feels the steel, unyielding and all at once.

     The wounds open up, the assassin unseen until he's away and back on the ground but not in the same space, not in the same time. She hisses loudly through her teeth, feeling her blood desperately trying to stay back in, to seal those suddenly inflicted wounds. But she's not dropping, not yet. Her empty, unloaded gun hangs at her side, her hands taking her staff up once more. She grips one end, pulling free the blade hidden within, and pushes herself, one good burst of speed towards Homura, seeking to drive the blade into her in one firm thrust.

     It's a brief, bloody dance, mostly her own, the thrust turning to a pull, a slash, and she draws another burst of speed, not able to teleport or stop time, but still move her feet quickly, leaving her bloodied red cloak to flutter in her wake. She swings the staff-half in her other hand towards Corvo, looking to bring it down, and send him to sleep via concussion.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
"Homura's launchin'.... fireworks?" comments Serenity's captain, turning his gaze upwards as Homura launches the arrow up into the night sky. "No. Arrows..." he corrects, as the projectiles pass within sight of the booth, and then turn downwards, streaking towards the field. "She's hit them both!"

    Homura's section erupts into a deafening roar, as she scores a pair of hits on both Ariah and Corvo. They wave their cardboard mug shots triumphantly; cardboard-Serori is still intact, and still flaming. Corvo's section responds by throwing their boards over at Homura's section, and shortly, a full-on brawl breaks out between the two sections, boards and blown-up mug shots launched at each other. Flaming cardboard-Serori is tossed in a high arc, flying over the heads of Corvo's fans and smacking right into the headless robot with one of the 'O's painted on his chest. The poor androids had finally managed to correct their spelling, but thanks to the heat of cardboard-Serori, their chests now spell C-U-R-V-O. It's close!

    "Corvo...Ah.... What in the gorram hell?" the captain says, as things get kinda fuzzy. He was just right there! And now he's over there!

    "Another...space-timing...continuing.."

    "Temporal space-time continuum flux, reversing th-" corrects River, eyerolling at Mal like a teacher might at a pupil who's missed something obvoious.

    "Yeah, yeah... Space time flex...continuing," he cuts in, before River can finish. "Like I said."

    "Ariah's hit hard...But the vampire is still up. And movin', too. Quick-like... She goes in with blades..." says Mal, leaning forward to catch the result.

    "Got her! Ariah hits Homura hard!"

    Mega-Ariah breathes fire in approval.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Corvo will find-- Homura still moves.

    Even with the world perfectly still, and every clock having ground to a halt; with every speck of dust still in the air, and every drop of blood idle, waiting to fall, the magical girl does not halt, or even stay still, or appear bogged down by the magic. A world standing silent, quiet, discolored, and only the two of them can make anything of it.

    She's in no state to stop him though.

    With only her bow to defend herself, she stumbles back, and the man carefully uses his blade to thrust and cut into her. She tries, in vain, to slap him away with the bow, but only receives another wound from the ordeal, crashing to the ground.

    Time resumes its flow and she groans, something or another about being surprised. It's always a pain when you find other people with time powers. And between Ariah's blast, and Corvo's blades, she's in ill a state to be powering right back at people.

    Ariah marches towars her, and Homura scrambles to produce Tyrfing again, the holy sword shaky in her hand. Her defense is easily ignored by the more experienced witch, ending in more cuts and tears through her skin and outfit both.

    Homura blurs-- she was on the ground and bloody a moment ago, and then she's standing straight again the next. The blood has soaked into her clothes, as if half a minute had passed since. She doesn't move, and yet...

    Rockets.

    A swarm of rockets pelts the arena from above.
    It's like an air strike, but without the planes.

    The Puella Magi seems to have no trouble finding the safe spots amongst the explosions. That poor arena, though. There's probably not much of it left after all this.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    That's... never. Happened before. That's never happened before, that's...

    He'd stare at her, from within the seconds, staring at her. His head tilts. Sure, he still cuts, but his movements are laggy, slow... then time, starts, again, and the falling light becomes more solid, and he's... he's just, fading. He's on the edge, he's...

    He's failing, he's fading, blood just everywhere. Some of it in Ariah.

    Okay a lot of it in Ariah.

    He actually smiles at her, SMILES AT HER, and his voice is distant, dizzy. "Could've bought me a drink first." It's a differential sort of comment, hollow under the mask... and he brings the sword hilt around as hard as he can, trying to crack her in the head... before taking a few flying steps and seek to stab Homura, feeling himself on the edge of consciousness... at best. It's been a long day.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
"Ariah's out!" shouts Mal, as the vampire goes down following Corvo's shot with the pommel. Ouch. Jayne looks genuinely disappointed.

    "Now, I'll actually be in my bunk.." he says, heading for the door. Apparently, the whole neck-biting thing is all the grunt showed up for.

    "Corvo takes out Ariah. It's one on one!" shouts Mal.

    Thw two opposing sides of the stadium are going nuts, now. The roar is deafening, and the tension is thick. Things are coming down to the wire. Most of Serenity's crew is up and on their feet now, anxious to see the last moments of the fight.

Ariah (56) has posed:
     Ariah's tapped out. She barely has enough mana left in her, scraped from the bottom of the proverbial barrel, drawn from the arrows in her from previously. It's enough to endure a portion of the RPG explosions, leaving her curled up in a smoking crater of stone and rubble, her staff standing up as she clutches it tight. For all the shrapnel and blood loss, for her bones trying to knit back together, she still manages to open her eyes. It's a very, very brief respite, as she hears the assassin behind her.

     The pommel strikes her good, no energy left to parry the strike, and her vision blurs before going blank completely, eyes shutting. Her staff goes loose in her grip, her sword laying at her side. She fumbles with them, looking to seal the blade within its home, barely able to mutter as her head rings from the pain. "I yield, to you both. Well... nn... fought." It's clear she's not unconscious, but everything leading up to the strike on the head in the last several moments is more than enough to put her out of the fight. The fracture she can -feel- in her skull is the endpoint, the exclamation point capped on an unspoken 'Good fight!'

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Corvo really makes it look like those two have a history. It could just be idle chatter; she did BITE him, and there's a joke to be made about dining in there somewhere.

    On the other hand Homura can't afford to get distracted by that right now. The assassin is coming in with his blade, and even if he's as battered as she is, that's not going to be any fun.

    She tries, with a slight delay due to arm pains, to bring a Regisword out, and parry Corvo's sword. The word tries is paramount, because she's as graceful as... well, as graceful as a magical girl with a dozen cuts, lacerations and burns all over her body, trying to swing a sword, when it's not even her forte.

    So instead of parrying, she ends up with a sword in her guts.

    She coughs some blood-- this is definitely not a lethal injury for her, but it is still very borderline. The Regisword clatters on the arena floor (what's left of it) as she drops it.

    Her other hand produces a riot shotgun.

    The barrel taps against Corvo's chest as she angles it up. He'll have to choose, very quickly, if he wants to keep pushing the sword he has inside her right now, or get away from that shotgun.

    When it fires, it fires rubber slugs and generally "harmless" rounds, which while they can't blow a hole through him, certainly have the stopping power to knock the air out of his lungs and ground him, at point blank.

Malcolm Reynolds (273) has posed:
    "Homura's done it!" shouts the Captain, uncharacteristically. Serenity's crew is up on their feet and applauding, now. As is most of the stadium, even Ariah and Corvo's fans.

    "Homura knocks out Corvo and wins the Championship! What a great fight, by all competitors!"

    The crowd stands, and applauds their champions, while Serenity's crew makes their way for the exit of the commentator's booth. Later on, security will make a note of the missing food, silverware, and even some of the wiring from the walls. The microphone is gone, too. Presumably a nice souvenir.

Corvo Attano (398) has posed:
    While Corvo... just, kind of, lays, on his back.

    He doesn't remember flying up. Or crashing down. Or bleeding. Or any of it. Just coming to, coming to, drifting out of the dip into unconsciousness... and staring up, at the sky.

    And he smiles...

    "Good show..." It whispers from bloodied lips.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    And Homura?

    She's got no heart to celebrate right now.

    Perhaps a bit literally, given the numerous cuts and stab wounds around her chest. With if anything a light smile, she allows herself to collapse into a puddle of her own blood. She's just gonna sleep a while now, the Union medics on site have special instructions to get her back up to snuff in a pinch.