Scene #9303: Goddess of the Underground

Owner	Pose
Trudy Grimm	You will fight Grima. "Very well, My Lady." "We will--?!" You will. Your comrades may support you in ways that do not involve themselves in the combat. You must earn this through your own efforts as a warrior. These are my terms. Trudy's eyes rest on the arming sword embedded in the table before her, still shaking from the force that hurled it. The hesitation and fear is clear in those faintly glowing green eyes, her hands remaining firmly in her lap. After a moment, she shoots her glance towards Riku-- then Moses, lingers on Arthur. When her glance shifts to Grimnir, the old one-eyed scholar simply nods once. The witch takes in an unsteady breath as she rises to her feet. Gingerly, she rests her hand on the sword's hilt, then wrenches it free. While little more than a dagger in Deya's massive grip, the weapon is more like a claymore for her-- and so she rests it over her shoulder in a manner reminiscent of one of her own servants. Letting that breath out, Trudy turns to face Hel directly, "Alright. I accept." Of course you do. The goddess leans back in her throne, resting fleshed cheek upon delicate knuckles. Her dark hand raises, giving glimpses of raw bone beneath ever-shifting shadows. Fingers spread out and the feasting hall changes. It is less as if the room shifts around and more as if the room had merely decided it was always like this-- there is no sensation of movement as seats rearrange and the table splits down the middle, widening into a sunken sand-floored fighting circle. The table now surrounds it, giving all diners a perfect view of the event. Grima now stands upon the fighting floor, her wings spread and slightly curled inward, a colossal warrior in gleaming armor before the throne of the Goddess of the Underground. Opposite her, as if she had always been in the ring as well, Trudy now stands. There are even footprints to suggest she had walked out to where she now stands. "I've never fought with a sword before," Trudy admits. It's true. She's only ever seen others use swords; Lilian, the Black Knight, Rutger, a handful of others. A witch couldn't possibly stack up to such mastery, but with her life on the line-- she has to try. Shifting, renewed determination in her eyes, she casts a look back towards her comrades, "I'll be counting on your support-- and your advice." "I, the First Slain, shall test your strength of spirit," Grima states evenly, placing her right hand up over her heart with the spear's head aimed skyward. Sweeping it down to the side, the filigree head erupts in blazing blue light that crystallizes moisture from the air. Glittering powder snow floats listlessly down to the sandy floor, "Victory must be seized with one's own hands." Begin. The initial instant is a show of mastery versus inexperience. Just when Trudy pulls the sword from her shoulder and takes her first step forward, Grima is there. Leading with her shield, the Valkyrie charges. There's a clang of collision that knocks the witch back and off her feet. Now firmly in the center of Hel's arena, Grima plants her own feet with her wings flaring outward. Her snowflake spear raises overhead, drawing in light and ice. Despite the roaring fires and numerous braziers, the hall's temperature noticeably drops, "All-piercing spear, drink deep of raging blizzards--!"
Distortion Dets.	'Your comrades may support you in ways that do not involve themselves in the combat.' Moses scowls, mumbling under her breath, "Puzzles to solve..." A sharp expression change at the emanating words, and- 'Alright. I accept.' "Excuse me? What do you possibly mean, 'you accept'? No- clarify those rulings first, assure aid first- are you truly so reckless?" The detective pulls her pipe away from her lips, exhaling angry smoke to dissipate into the frosty air. "To contact? To blood? To death? What 'involvement' crosses the line? Idiot, foolish kid, were you under my charge..." Ezra, by the detective's side, puts a gloved hand on the older woman's shoulder, shutting her up with an unreadable glance. . . . A moment passes. Ezra blinks her big red eyes, looking around at the difference in the room, blatantly confused at how she somehow missed the shift in scenery, but looking to Moses doesn't get her any clarity- the Detective, scowling, just puts her pipe to her lip. It's safe to assume she's lost in thought enough to have fully missed it, or just too lost in the layers of illusion her eyes have been caught by for months and months. 'I've never fought with a sword before,' "That's unfortunate. What next of kin should be informed of your passing?" "Hah? Detective!? That's so gloomy to sayyyy.." "And? If you picked a fight as one-sided back when you were that incompetent, if I did when I was, it'd be the same. Do you think there's a different way this will go for her?" "Well, no... but shouldn't we still say something, so it's not so so scary for her?" "Mm. Die quick, if you must? Or, give up and see what running gets you?" Smoke trails out of the corner of Moses' mouth as she mumbles on unhelpfully, her eyes more on the colossal opponent Trudy appears to be up against, than on the witch. "What do you possibly expect from us? A lesson improvised in whatever words there's time to share? Preposterous. Ah, but, that isn't rhetorical- answer, quickly, if you want more than an audience for your death." Ezra, not overtly sharing her boss's pessimism, cups her hands around her mouth to amplify whisper-shouted words. "Don't lock up your knees, and, ummmm, swing from the shoulders, and- oh! If you ever really wanna drop the sword, cuz it's going all bwoingoing from hitting something hard or getting hit, don't! Don't drop it." "Mm. Ezra, if you care to bother, why don't you let her use one of your swords instead? That Sigma workshop one, a greenhorn could still maim with it." "Ehhhhn? No way! I don't wanna..." "Mm." 'All-piercing spear. . .' Moses hunches, chewing the end of her pipe. A clacking sound echoes from anxious tapping of her heel onto cold stone. With disgust and apprehension in her voice, like staring down a small animal about to be helplessly run over on a freeway, Moses spits words, and more, out. "Oh, I won't have this..." The flickering light flowering towards the valkyrie is joined by guilt-soaked violet smoke, quickly filling the air like mist at the dew point, offering Trudy obscuring cover within which to hide. Not at all hiding the action she herself has taken, Moses, tired, sour, and angry, simply stares across at the rule-setting goddess, testing waters.
Riku Asakura	Riku stands before the goddess and doesn't back down. Her stare pierces through him, but he doesn't let it bother him one bit. After all, he's here for Trudy today. Someone who is also trying to fight against the curse that is their bloodline, and that means something to him. Belial created him, but he defines who he is and not what his father has done. They can't interfere in this duel, and worse, Trudy has never fought with a sword before. He takes a breath and speaks from the heart. "There are other ways to fight Trudy. Listen to your friend and don't give up because it's not what you're used to!" he says brightly, trying to give her emotional support in this trying time. Never mind that his sword-fighting skills are limited. He has used the sword of light in Arcosmasher form, but he doesn't have mastery over it. "Don't swing too hard, and always find your center of mass so that you can keep yourself balanced." Basic skills that Trudy likely already knows from watching Lilian, but it's still good advice. Riku maintains an upbeat attitude about this entire situation, regardless of how unfair it seems to Trudy at the moment. As he says, standing around doing nothing accomplishes nothing.
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Wait that lady just put smoke in the field, can you put fair stuff on the field? > Arthur: Fight using game design dude!! Arthur looks to Moses, widens his eyes with insight, and then rushes to work. He has few options here, but not as few as one thinks. There's a principle in game design: a system is not an interference but rather a feature, and a structure is not unfair if all parties have access to it. In a battle, you expect the unexpected and deal with the terrain, but it's not interference if the crowd shouts, or communicates, or, for Arthur's case, makes the magic circle of the game more rigorously defined. "You must earn this through your own efforts as a warrior. These are my terms." Arthur's in motion nigh-instantly. He's rushing to the side of the fighting floor, summoning a strange machine and running punchcards through it, showing strange holograms of odd energy-orbs. As the battle begins, when each approaches the other, Arthur is using starlight to project images of combat manuals into the air above, labelled with controller inputs. Tutorials for a new swordswoman (or a new spearwoman, he's fair). He's cranking strange punchcards through his machine as fast as he can, and inviting the others to do so as well if they need. And he's producing gleaming, shining orbs that scatter the field, fed through a vast geometric magic he's placed above the field in the center, where a visible space-magic diceroll distributes them randomly. He's... not 'interfering', but 'enhancing', giving empowering energy-boosting powerups to Trudy and to Grima both, if they rush to the powerups and collectibles that grant pre-constructed powerful combat techniques marked with huge shining floor-indicators. He's holding to both the letter and the spirit of the law, so to speak, and making sure that his additions are fair. Whoever wants it more will gain. Advantages from the start should matter less. Motivation and focus should matter more. The law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, beg in streets, and steal bread. But a game designer, in their majestic equality, empowers both divine and mortal to know the ways that their weapons and tools are best used, to access powerups and empowering energies, to gather fresh-alchemized gear and items from the field, to want it more. "FUCKING GO TRUDY! KICK HER ASS!!" He's screaming. "YOU WANT IT, SO GET IT! FUCKING GET IIIIIT! YOU CAME DOWN HERE BECAUSE YOU WANTED IT MORE THAN ANYTHING, SO WANT IT MORE THAN THE HEAVENS OR THE UNDERWORLD OR ANY GODDAMN THING!! FUCKING ORPHEUS THAT BITCH!" Wrong myth, and Orpheus kind of lost that conflict, but you're doing your best I guess.
Trudy Grimm	> "Excuse me? What do you possibly mean, 'you accept'? No- clarify those rulings first, assure aid first- are you truly so reckless?" "I might be a little bit stupid," Trudy admits, "But this is the only route forward for me. I know it." She's already scrambling to her feet, using the weapon to help herself up. > "If you ever really wanna drop the sword, cuz it's going all bwoingoing from hitting something hard or getting hit, don't!" "Got it--" Trudy exhales. Ezra makes a lot of sense; this strip of steel might be the only thing between her life continuing or ending. Dropping it is foolish. > "Don't swing too hard, and always find your center of mass so that you can keep yourself balanced." "Tricky with this beast," the witch admits She takes a heartbeat to test the sword's balance in her hands, then adopts a makeshift stance with it held forward, tip down, defensively towards Grima. Moses floods the field with smoke. When she looks directly at Hel in that challenging way, the Goddess has already locked eyes with her. It isn't a glower, there isn't even a hint of disapproval on the human side of her face. More thoughtful, considering how this may act as a handicap to balance the scales. And then Arthur goes ham with the Alchemizer, scattering powerups and tutorial popups and similar nonsense. As Arthur starts shouting like the God of All Hypemen, Hel's visible eye closes and she tilts her head back. The laughter that emanates is a mix of hoarse and musical; both life and death expressing joy. Letting it fade, she leans aside, balancing the living side of her face upon the heel of her human hand, fingers curled up across her cheek. Very interesting, God of Space. This shall prove more entertaining than I expected. "No quarter!" Grima lashes to her right with the spear. An arc of icy blue light slices off, prompting Trudy to dive out of the way and right into one of Arthur's glowing orbs. The Valkyrie rolls with her own momentum, following the rightside slash with an identical left-side slice of freezing magic. This time, the witch is already moving-- backing up when the third swing carves a circle directly around Grima's feet, then diving in when the final strike scatters icy crystals against the very edges of the ring. Each strike scatters the smoke but doesn't disperse it, only changing the shapes it gathers into. The set of Grima's jaw doesn't change, even when Trudy charges. The ring of steel with sword strikes spear belies the force Trudy put into that one; the wince on her face is plain as day, but she holds to Ezra's advice and refuses to let go of it. The Valkyrie pulls back, then thrusts with the spearhead-- prompting the witch to clumsily push it aside. Grima's hands shift and she brings around the blunt end of her weapon, catching the witch in the back just below her shoulders. With a twist of her body, Grima pours force into the motion, hurling Trudy across the sand. Her recovery from the throw is flawless, wings raised, spear held one-handed. Her free hand holds out ahead, fingers curled, "Leave nought unpierced, O' spear innumerable--!" An ancient rune appears before her outstretched hand, bright icy blue, carving a ring of crimson around itself. Trudy hauls herself up again, still hanging on to that sword. Using the back of her hand, she wipes blood and sand from her lip, "Her guard's real good, can I keep up..?"
Arthur Lowell	> ==> Very interesting, God of Space. This shall prove more entertaining than I expected." "Motherfuckers are ALWAYS WATCHING ON ME." He hollers, enjoying the fruits of his labor and briefly taking a long enough break to observe Trudy get a few good hits in. A game designer should also be proud of his work. > Arthur: She needs defense options too!! dip shit!!! "I know!" Arthur hollers at nothing in particular over the scream of impacts, and when those throws start, he tries to add more. What can he do? More defensive options in the manuals. More fast-applied gear items. He's less good at healing, but he can work with armor -- if one runs over those little shield-shaped rotating things that start popping up, it'll give them a single-use gravity burst to try to forcibly deflect just one massive strike. Trudy has few massive strikes, but Grima certainly has more. Especially a spear that leaves nought unpierced... But one deflect at a time might not be enough, and he can't layer the charges very well. It's not all sunshine and roses for his compliance with the viking ways, of course. Some of the powerups take the form of horrid soft drinks in his favorite acrid-sweet flavors. But one supposes Trudy has more to lose there than the gods ever did. But he's still working hard -- and the others are invited to add any of their resources to a non-consumptive alchemization or two.
Riku Asakura	'Her guard's real good, can I keep up..?' "Throw your weight into a blow, try and throw her off course. Remember, a spear requires reach, so always be in her face, make her fight on your grounds and not hers!" Riku throws out some more advice, trying to cheer Trudy on in her offense. Arthur seems to have defense handled... and let's be fair, Geed wasn't known for his defense, except in very overt, straight-hitting ways. "Watch out for her blow and try to pick up some of the things Arthur is throwing down!" Riku encourages.