Arris Windrun
Gutter Goddess
The cyborg was too far gone to consider her opponent beyond 'squirming means he's still alive.'
The torment of emotions she felt only climbed, annexing every thought, replacing her humanity with animal instinct. Blow after blow, unaware that Drystan--even now--had a mind to analyze her moves, to find and exploit a weakness.
As glitterstim continued to haze around them, Arris was breathing heavily, and the infamous high heightened her senses to a point of self-conceit. She felt like a Goddess here and now, the machine that would end a Jedi's life simply because it had to be done.
When her last punch rolled off his shoulder, she had no time to deliver another strike.
That feeling returned. This time, a snapshot of her death to come, a clean, powerful hit to crush her reinforced jaw and send shrapnel up into her brain. The cyborg leaned back and brought her left arm forward to absorb the blow--prosthetic versus prosthetic.
The armored casing shattered, the servos blew, and the damn thing splintered on impact, sending a sharp piece of metal square into her chest just above the heart.
She spun round as the all-consuming rage married an incredible spike of fear that raced through her.
Did I die? The woman thought to herself, deep inside the shell of the monster she had become. No. Fear fed her determination, and the fighter leapt over her opponent and clenched her powerful legs around his head and neck as she fell. She had every intention to maintain the leverage, to squeeze beyond the capacity of her cyberware, and hold them both down on the ground as the platform sank into the lava.
If he weren't crushed, then she would try to hold him there, never to let go, even if it meant fire consumed them both.
Drystan Creed
The torment of emotions she felt only climbed, annexing every thought, replacing her humanity with animal instinct. Blow after blow, unaware that Drystan--even now--had a mind to analyze her moves, to find and exploit a weakness.
As glitterstim continued to haze around them, Arris was breathing heavily, and the infamous high heightened her senses to a point of self-conceit. She felt like a Goddess here and now, the machine that would end a Jedi's life simply because it had to be done.
When her last punch rolled off his shoulder, she had no time to deliver another strike.
That feeling returned. This time, a snapshot of her death to come, a clean, powerful hit to crush her reinforced jaw and send shrapnel up into her brain. The cyborg leaned back and brought her left arm forward to absorb the blow--prosthetic versus prosthetic.
The armored casing shattered, the servos blew, and the damn thing splintered on impact, sending a sharp piece of metal square into her chest just above the heart.
She spun round as the all-consuming rage married an incredible spike of fear that raced through her.
Did I die? The woman thought to herself, deep inside the shell of the monster she had become. No. Fear fed her determination, and the fighter leapt over her opponent and clenched her powerful legs around his head and neck as she fell. She had every intention to maintain the leverage, to squeeze beyond the capacity of her cyberware, and hold them both down on the ground as the platform sank into the lava.
If he weren't crushed, then she would try to hold him there, never to let go, even if it meant fire consumed them both.
Drystan Creed