Pylarea
The carnage around the near terror-stricken Nightmarian had been raging for quite a long time, hours it seemed, but maybe it had only been minutes, anyways it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to keep track of the time as fatigue gripped her only half-trained body and mind. Her groups’ markings had mixed effects in this bloody melee, at times it seemed the worst decision she could have made since it brought undue attention upon them, but it also allowed for them to tighten their company and form something akin to a bubble of resistance. Luckily she managed to find herself placed in the very middle of this section, yet even so they were not so tight-knit as to have formed an effective pocket, they still needed room to swing weaponry or move, and with those two factors there was still plenty of space for opponents to mill about.
The world around them was bursting with emotions, both latent and overt, as her natural psionicism began honing in on the environment surrounding her, a whooshing of air from behind rapidly grew louder as a harpy began dive-bombing towards Pylarea. A friendly arrow sent her assailant asunder as it threw the creature off-balance, and a somewhat familiar voice called out in warning. "Get to ground! You make an easy target, butterfly!" Once again the large…was he a dark elf? The two were hard for her distinguish because of her unfamiliarity with the two species, but whatever he was this was the second time he had saved her during a near-death experience.
A behemoth of an elf of their nearby had just become very un-busy as opponents envisioning his slaughter of their comrades backed off very quickly, even she wanted to scramble away from the man, but a strange feeling of joviality and warmth stemmed from his mind as he offered some free advice. “Might wanna use yourself some o’ that steel, lass,” he mentioned with a wink, nudging his toe under the handle of a nearby mace. “Even if you have some o’ the fancy mind-magic, can’ get too distracted, yeah?” Ironically enough though he flipped the same mace into the air to begin using it to bludgeon some rather unintelligent initiates who had thought to get the best of him, was that supposed to be some kind of joke?
Her comrade had a point though. She could really only focus on one opponent at a time, and with the danger of her thoughts becoming as haywire as before when she had forgotten to even grab a weapon from the selection something serious needed to be done, and fast. There was a vast selection of weaponry from which to choose, and it was growing by the minute thanks to the rapidity with which some fellow initiates decided to die, but what should she choose? The axes seemed much too bulky and awkward to be of much use, she did not have any knowledge of how to use bows, and maces just seemed so…filthy! Swords it was then…wait a minute… what was that?
Pylarea began scrambling towards a fallen human-like female with a strange object clasped around her forearm, she might have overlooked the instrument seeing as she had fallen face-down and nearly concealed the entirety of the weapon, but the glint of long a long strand of metal protruding near her thigh made the moth curious. Turning the woman over, not as difficult as she had thought since she was just a little smaller than the Nightmarian herself, the item’s entirety was revealed to her. It was a vambrace of some sort, but with a peculiar set of attachments stemming from the up-side wrist area, which were three long, flexible, metallic whips approximately six foot in length. If a woman of smaller stature than herself had been able to utilize the weapon then so should she, then again the woman was dead now…
After quickly stripping the girl of her possession and readjusting the item to fit her forearm the moth finally stood up prepared for battle! Why was nobody trying to kill her though? Honestly since the harpy had been near-enough to harpooned out of the air by her twice-now savior not many had made an attempt upon her oh so fragile life. Maybe it was because of the fact that every time she was in danger so heroic figure swooped in to save her? More like it was because she seemed to be in close proximity to the biggest and meanest looking of fighters who looked as if they enjoyed nothing better than massacring countless foolish individuals who thought they could make a name for themselves by defeating such daunting foes. Obviously they were fools because the mass of bodies piling up around them could point to no other conclusion to the Nightmarian.
It seemed there was nothing she could do now but wait for someone to want and kill her for whatever reason they may have, whether that be out of curiosity, blood-lust, or simple boredom it did not really make that much of a difference when you thought about it. All you could do when someone tried to stick you with a pointy stick, or beat you senseless with a blunt one, was doing the same back to them! In retrospect she much preferred this new kind of life to that of her old one…she never could have done the same the countless times the breeders had perpetrated such acts on her in the past.
An idea crept into the front most part of Pylarea’s mind as someone finally decided to try her skills. It was a Halfling female who seemed to have taken a disliking to the very large men surrounding the Nightmarian for some reason and wanted to do away with what seemed the easier target. Of course her opponent only thought she was sneaking up on the moth, so it seemed she had few prior dealings with the Nightmarian race or she would know it best to just attack them head on. As the little woman crept within just three feet of her intended victim Pylarea’s antennae began glowing brilliantly, and luckily this particular task did not require much effort to use effectively.
Two of the vicious metallic, whips darted from around the right side of her body to wrap themselves around and up her would-be assailant’s legs and knees, the blades biting deep into the soft flesh of her calves. A wicked smile spread across the Nightmarian’s face as the third whipped itself across her throat, opening up a gaping hole that allowed her precious life force to gush out quickly. Another quick thought sent the now limp body flying lifelessly into a fellow Nightmarian who was busy assaulting the Tin Can Man she had used as support earlier. The least she could do to apologize was by helping him with the task at hand. The wickedness of her smile faded into mere congenialty and beaming pride when the man was able to safely chance a glance in her direction.
Today was definitely a much better one than it had seemed previously…