[Combat Helper] Strange Creature vs Story

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Strange Creature been delighted to find a friend in the dark. Story, the tree who wasn't a tree, was one of the few kin who could make her feel truly safe and at-ease; so, naturally, they decided to beat each other up a little bit. Nothing serious, not like the desperate fight in the mountains- this was simply a way to ease some of the tension and bring in more of those little motes of light. Her dragons flitted above, shooting off sparks; shadows accumulated in Story's shaggy crags, throwing her friend into eerie tonal contrast. The sooner they helped bring the light back, the better.

"Some gentle sparring won't be so bad!" she said, smiling. "I'm still scared, but not out of my mind. Not like last time."

[LOLLI qAq]

Story couldn't help but grin as he faced off with his "rival" and truly one of his best friends in the entire world. Last time they'd fought neither of them were in their right mind, and though he was forever grateful that it had ended with the two of them bonding he hoped that maybe doing this, sparring to save the swamp, would help ease the residual hurt from their first encounter.

"We can do this," he replied gently. "I think I should be the one that's scared- You are always a formidable opponent, my friend."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

It was funny- they were sparring, but still both seemed reluctant to strike the first blow. They stood countered to each other, knowing full well what the other was capable of. Carefully, oh-so-carefully, she took a step, moving in, watching and waiting and feeling her friend's breath as her own heart beat hard in her chest.

if they speed tie again i will riot

[LOLLI qAq]

Story cautiously matched her movements. He didn't want to hurt her, but he also wanted to get this over with, draw the motes in, and call it a day. He wove towards and away from her waiting for an opening.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

An opening; she took it, feinting, dodging, bobbing, weaving. It was far less "combat" and far more "dance."

It figured, really. The motes didn't seem attracted to violence; they were attracted to confluence. Telling stories, waxing poetic about family, even these fights- the motes were attracted to the intersections of kin, however those shaped themselves to be. It was no wonder that they were gathered to ritualized combat- the interplay of kin, the emotions running high. Whatever the motes were, they didn't like being alone.

She got that.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

They moved together like rattlesnakes, like two anoles doing pushups for the same spot on a twig. Like two tortoises digging in to either end of a watermelon; their goal was the same, and as they worked towards it, their movements would become the same, too. She bluffed, a false strike. No hit was made; her opening move was a close call, a reminder of how much she trusted the two of them together.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

It was fascinating, really, this dance they were able to do. Story was one of the first kin she'd ever really let in; she'd been such a solitary thing before her trek up to the mountains. She'd lived alone with her reptiles, caring for them and doting on them- but she'd never really had many friends who could actually talk back.

Not that they always needed to talk; for instance, they weren't talking now. They were communicating, certainly; communicating in a deep, meaningful way. When you were sparring like this, there was no need for words. Not when you understood each other and could telegraph what was coming next so easily.

(keeping the 1)

[Scaramouche Fandango]

As they circled each other, she lashed out with her tail, thudding gently against his side, responding to his blows in turn. The fight was slower-paced than those going on around them, but that was intentional. The action here wasn't in the violence; indeed, there really was nothing violent about it. He could throw her and she'd take it and stick the landing; they weren't fighting to defeat each other. They were fighting to defeat the darkness.

She could feel motes gathering around them, see the glow out of the corner of her eye. Though her gaze was fixed on her friend, the twinkling lights added a softness to his visage, washing out the stark relief and letting her see the little details of his face. What did the motes think of him, a walking tree? They reminded her of the sparks her little dragons put out, only far more intentional and long-lasting... and less destructive. They weren't flames; they weren't really anything other than just... pure light. Like little stars, burning with light but not heat. Lovely things; if it took a fight to attract them, then a fight was worth it.

(keeping the 1 and the 5)

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Panting, her part in the dance was over. She waited, watching to see what would happen next.

(Total score: 20- 2 5s and 2 wild card 1s)

[LOLLI qAq]

He moved around her, like new vine growth looking for a place to reach to. It was consistently amazing to him how much he trusted the creature he was dancing with. Not fighting. Not really. They were too in step with each other for that. He could read her movements, and though he knew that eventually one of them would falter he was enjoying how in lockstep they were in this moment.

The motes seemed to enjoy it as well, as their soft glow touched the corners of his line of sight.

[LOLLI qAq]

Story wondered if maybe their movements were too perfectly matched as neither seemed to want to break from the dance and turn this into anything resembling combat. Well, his friend had managed to land a few blows, but his body was wholly refusing to strike. Which, quite honestly, was fine with him. He smiled gently and thought maybe there was truth to the theory that the motes were their ancestors after all. They certainly seemed to enjoy the closeness and spectacle of it all. More, maybe, than the acts themselves. As the continued to grow close.

Better put on a good show, then. Carefully, he watched for another opening and moved towards Strange Creature to strike.

[LOLLI qAq]

Finally, an opening! He lashed out with one foot and used it to trip up Strange Creature as she moved. It hit solidly, but he knew she'd maneuver out of it and come back at him. Story let a thrum well deep in his throat like he was going to say something, but ultimately he was content to attempt rush, feint, and push her sideways with a shoulder.

(I'm ignoring the accidental second roll on the last post.
Keeping the 1, 6, and 1)

[LOLLI qAq]

He managed to get her with his shoulder, but when he tried to finish with another trip up ... It was barely a strike. Ah, well, he chuckled. She moved gracefully away and steadied himself to strike again.

(keeping the 4.)

[LOLLI qAq]

A glancing blow, his last hit, but contact was made and then he was done. He huffed and tried to get his heart beat to slow back down to a more evenly paced rhythm.

(final hand 1, 6, 1, 4, 2. So, 18? I think is how the rules have it all set up.)

[Scaramouche Fandango]

It was close, oh-so-close; but hadn't it always been fated that way? The two of them had learned the hard way once about the dance of combat; this time, there was no need for any brutality. With a quick, final movement, she pressed her neck against his, feeling his heart pounding.

Who had won? It didn't matter.
(WC: 725)