Snippet #1832945

The few moments of glee Pylarea had derived from her quick victory over the Halfling woman proved short-lived indeed as a vicious jab of reality was soon flying in her direction, literally. A dagger had been flung from the capable hands of yet another Halfling woman who was even then barreling her way towards the wounded Moth. There seemed to be no end to these vicious little creatures, maybe it was because of their diminutive stature no one really considered them a threat, whatever the case their assumptions were wrong. These fiends were despicable, daring, and dangerous.

Pylarea was given barely enough time to even utter a shout of pain as the impish woman plowed into the near incapacitated Nightmarian, kicking her forcefully to the ground in the process and using the momentum to continually beat her with open fists. Luckily the weapon she had been carrying previously was planted firmly in the moth’s thigh, or she would be in immediate danger, not that having a child-like devil pounding on your head was good by any stretch of the imagination, but with her natural defenses the blows did not hurt as much.

Unfortunately the beast caught wind of this fact and started desperately fumbling for any vantage her body might give her; all the soft spots were up for grabs. Pylarea tried desperately to utilize the weapon clasped upon her wrist, but the fiend was too close and she too disoriented by the furious barrage. All she could try and do right now was fending off the little cretin off and try to dislodge her from the seat upon her own chest. A shifting of the weight on her torso gave rise to instinctual motions as the moth took the split-second chance to toss the imp off of her chest and take the upper-hand position. Of what could have distracted the woman for that moment Pylarea was uncertain, but she was definitely sure that she had the advantage now.

She was both larger than the Halfling and much more powerful, to her surprise. It had always been taught to them that Nightmarians were superior beings, but she could never have assumed it would be so blatantly obvious. Pylarea wrestled vehemently with the woman until she managed to trap both of the Halfling’s wrists beneath one of her hands, no easy chore yet expedited thanks to the other species’ smaller build, and was trying desperately to use her other to pummel the fiend. It proved much harder to land a blow than the moth had anticipated as the imp kept wriggling like a maggot whilst thrashing her feet about, kicking the Nightmarian’s backside with her tiny feet.

“Cease.”

The momentous shockwave emanating from the order was not voluminous in origin, but tonal. The mere sound of the word itself carried all the weight necessary to force the combat to an end, right there and right now, and Pylarea’s struggle was no exception to this phenomenon. Immediately she had loosened her grip upon the struggling Halfling, who herself had ceased her resistance and seemed similarly awestruck, but the paralytic effects quickly wore off as the woman forced herself out from under the moth.

“Get off me you fat cow!” She quickly withdrew the dagger from Pylarea’s thigh as she sped off about her own business.

It seemed the Halfling had not taken any wounds during the last two conflicts, or if she did they did not phase her in the slightest, but the Nightmarian was now bleeding profusely upon the stone floor beneath her. That is she was until a Child adorned in red robes stopped before her to administer healing magic to the wound. After mere moments the bursting flow had ceased and the gaping hole had sealed itself. She wanted to thank whoever it was that had just healed her, but when looking up to meet their eyes she was horrified at the sight placed before her. The man’s lips had been sealed shut.

Some words were spoken and initiates began filing up and leaving the battleground to file through a doorway off to their right which had just recently been opened. There was word of food, bathing, and rest for the lot of them should they so desire any or all of the amenities listed, and the mere thought of all filled Pylarea with intense feelings of relief and joy. What to do first though, for certainly each comfort had its own advantages. Warm, soothing waters for a bath would more than likely relax every muscle in her body and force the moth’s status into that of sleep, but no matter how much she desired the pursuit she needed sustenance first.

Looking down at her robe made the Nightmarian think twice about such circumstances though, she was covered in grime from the day’s toils, and there was no way she would be seen anywhere in her current state, much less consider eating like this. The rooms quickly filled up, but Pylarea found one to her liking, nothing special like the harpies’ roosts and whatever the other races might need, just a simple bed with clean linens. She scooped up the clean clothes, placing her weapon upon a shelf to indicate the room was taken, and proceeded to scout out the baths. Luckily it did not take long to find them as many of the other initiates were intent upon the same goal as she, and soon she was able to dip part of her body in the relaxing, warm waters.

It was a shame she had wings to worry about, otherwise she would merely plop right into the soothing bathes and be done with the business, but she could not chance getting them wet. Instead she had found a nice seat where she was submerged up to her waist, but her wings were still safe from any harm. With a generous smile planted across her face the moth began washing the grime from her body slowly, basking in the radiance of such a peaceful moment after her dreadful day. At least it had not turned out as bad as she had thought.