Complete 18+ Private High March It's High Noon!

[Ayna Nietzsche]

⋇⊶⊰✦⊱⊷⋇

❰ Adventurers Guild ❱

His words were strong, but his attacks were weak. Ayna came to that conclusion when she managed to duck his sands' attack by simply disappearing from where she had stood and then reappearing somewhere else, somewhere that his sands could not reach her. Was his earlier attack, the successful strike against her, a mere fluke? Was he new to all this, just a crazed devotee newly risen in his ranks? Has he even risen in their ranks yet?

He is no one of concern, neither value nor threat, to me. It was now dawning on Ayna that the knight was no one to be wrathful against. He was no one to feel anything to or for. He was just another misguided bounty hunter, having heard the tales of the Mistress of the Red Lightning and wishing to make his own story off of her mistakes. Just another moth willing to set himself aflame in this wretched game.

"Your words are heard, boy, and my mistakes, my crimes, will be punished...but not by your people."

No longer feeling anything strong toward the sand knight, Ayna simply pointed at him, her arm toward his direction, as he sent another jolt of purple lightning straight at the crazed crusader. If he wanted his own story tied with that of her nightmare, then so be it. He shall be added to the list of the forgotten, the mourned, the names and faces that littered her guilt-ridden conscience in the nights to come, like a blanket of dread in her bed of sin. Goodbye, sand knight.

@Ammon Ket

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (91) + 10 + 20 = 121
121 damage (SUCCESS!)
Shadow Arts | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814 | DEFENSE

Normal Attack
1d100 (87) + 10 + 20 = 117
117 damage
Pierce Weapons | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814 | Offense

Ammon Ket: 1/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 2/3

 

[Ammon Ket]

Oath of the Watchdog

❰ Lions Pride ❱

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

Not by your people... Those were the last words that Ammon Ket heard before everything faded to black. He tried to defend himself, protect his vulnerabilities, with his sand-like aura, but he knew it would fail. It had failed before. The Mistress of the Red Lightning was just too powerful for him.

Only now did he realize that it had all been a fool's errand from the start. He was not going to win this battle. He was never going to win this fight. All those innocent souls, all those broken spirits, all Ammon Ket wanted was to avenge them, to give them peace, to grant them the justice they all deserved. But he had failed.

He was a fool to think he could do all that on his own. Better men have failed. He was no better than those that had tried to protect their own during the magia's rampage. He was just a lost lamb, stupid enough to think he would be able to do the improbable, only to walk straight into his own slaughter. "This...isn't...the end..."

Ammon Ket's eyes rolled back into the back of his head as his feet struggled to keep the rest of his body upright, having been forced to take a few steps back from the impact, the piercing blast that had penetrated and even destroyed part of his armor. It didn't take long for his body to drop to the ground with a loud thud. Was he dead? No, just unconscious, and he would not regain his consciousness for a few more hours. It was plenty of time for the magia to gloat and flee to parts unknown.

@Ayna Nietzsche

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (3) + 5 + 5 = 13
13 damage (FAILED!)
Guard Arts | Ammon Ket | 1814

Ammon Ket (0/3) VS. Ayna Nietzsche (2/3)

AYNA NIETZSCHE WINS! FATALITY!

 

[Ayna Nietzsche]

⋇⊶⊰✦⊱⊷⋇

❰ Adventurers Guild ❱

"It is done."​

The sand knight was but another victim of a misguided dream embedded in haunted fools that wanted to satiate their own shortcomings by achieving a miracle few ever would. Most people believed themselves to be destined for greatness without even considering the price one must pay to even come close to such a lie. Ayna had paid that price, but the greatness she achieved was infamy. Without her consent, she was twisted into a puppet by the Mother of Machines, twisted into a weapon of destruction, the Mistress of the Red Lightning.

But now Szofrit was gone, captured and sealed away. Or so Ayna believes, not wanting anything else to do with that nightmare of a page in her own story. Even now, after days and weeks have passed, the Mother of Machine's machinations still haunt her. She no longer had even a trickle of Szofrit's power, her influence, no red in her lightning, but more like the sand knight would come to avenge their fallen brethren. They had every right to do so, but they would always fail.

Ayna's judgment would not come from the sand knight and his ilk. Not from their peers, with their twisted and easily corrupted points of view, morals built to twist fear into justification. No. Ayna's judgment, the justice of those she had slain, will have to come from within. When she is ready, she will face it. When the time comes, she will be ready.

"Goodbye, sand knight. I will see you again."

It is inevitable. He, and people like him, will come for her again. There is nothing she can do about that. They had a right to do so. With a heavy heart, Ayna took a final look at what had been her safe place for a short time, a brief moment in her story, and began to walk away. Where? Only time can tell. There is never any request for the wicked, for the haunted, for the hunted. Not even at high noon.

@Ammon Ket

つづく
To Be Continued...?

 

[Ammon Ket]

Oath of the Watchdog

❰ Lions Pride ❱

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

Ammon let out a gasp as he rose to seat on the bed where his body had been laid for hours now. Sweating and panting, he looked around, only to find a woman scared out of her wits. They were the only two people in the makeshift room, though they wouldn't be for long. The woman immediately called out for someone else, and as Ammon threw the sheets off of him, he realized it was the same bartender from before. "Take it easy, knight," the man tried to placate him, grabbing a pitcher of water by the bedside and pouring him a glass. "You've been out for hours. Let your body slowly catch up."

Ammon groaned. He took the glass of water, nodded at the man as a sign of gratitude, and parched his thirst. The woman remained near the door, looking at them both warily. Ammon tried to offer her a smile, but she reacted once more in fear. As if he was a bad guy. As if she were his ex-wife. Feigning a cough and focusing his attention on the bartender, he chased those bad thoughts away by focusing on his crusade. "And the magia?"

The bartender shook his head, clearly in dismay, "Gone. Lost to the winds."

Ammon heaved a sigh, disappointed. He had one job, and he failed. He knew he would, however. The Mistress of the Red Lightning, even without the Mother of Machines' power, was a formidable quarry. Under Szofrit's thumb, she massacred so many innocent lives. On her own accord, she had bested others in Dunnstads and beyond. Ammon did his research, but apparently, no amount of it could guarantee him his victory. Gritting his teeth, he laid back on the bed, staring daggers at the ceiling as the bartender and the woman left him in peace.

Ammon knew he had to take some time to recover, go back to his drawing board. His quarry had bested him. This time. And perhaps for more times than he would be able to count. So he needs to train. Train harder. Train better. So when the time finally comes, he can take her out in one go, match her strength with his own, deliver the justice of the innocents. When that time comes, Ayna should be ready. Because he will.

Ayna Nietzsche... This isn't the end of this!

END...FOR NOW!