Description: Like Vampires, Werewolves, Changelings, and Mummies, there are other creatures that were once men but are now tragic souls. Known broadly as Santas, these tragic souls have been damned into serving children across the world. Each one is different, but all have suitably angst-ridden backgrounds that describe their afflicted state. While they cling to their humanity, they have to balance out their 'Jolly' against their Humanity. A Santa, with high enough Jolly, will have unbelievable powers, but will quickly grow distant to their humanity, and may lose themselves to the Christmas Spirit. Here, in the North Pole, two must endure the santaing. Radha is a North, a Santa of traditional eastern Russian mythology, and built on the legends of Saint Nicholas. She is capable of dual-wielding swords, can shape the snow and ice to powerful shapes, and have the incredible ability to teleport through entryways and portals. Trish is one of the El Santos , the Santas that live on top of cloud castles, employ children around the world to make toys, and are great friends with Merlin, and enemies with Pitch. For both, they have a simple goal: To overcome their Christmas Spirit, and come to terms with_ themselves. <Winner: Capitalism. --I mean Trish!>
COMBATSYS: Radha has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: Trish has joined the fight here.
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Trish 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Radha
"Well," said Radha Mistry when the topic came up of what to do for this particular promotional exercise, "that is different."
EVEN SO, HERE WE ARE: The long stretch of thick arctic sea ice that occupies the North Pole, threatened though it may be by the rise of CO2 levels and/or Manbearpig. It has been landscaped and manicured with lovely snowdrifts and fortifications as well as a cozy-looking little 'cottage', fireplace no doubt a-roar and perhaps full of mulled cider and so ona nd so forth.
Radha herself stands outside of that house, holding two blades in a slightly ill-experienced way. She is bundled up in red and white furs, as befits the ancient lore of Saint Nicholas. The wind tugs at her, and a little bit of frost rests on her glasses.
"Ho ho ho," she says, as the arctic wind tugs at a stray strand of hair. "Ho... ho... ho."
Across the ice and snow she stares towards from whence her foe might emerge.
The forecast and projections had been some staggering large numbers but the report outlined her organizations Quotas were met, with a modicum of surplus product even. These were those feel-good kinds of numbers that warranted a festive mood and celebrating at the best of times. Reason enough to be cheery and merry.
The woman tottering out of a sudden glut of thick rising cloudlike fog does so in a set of white flowing robes and thick coat, all seemingly askew and where she isn't ~very~ nearly bursting out of them, (Doing wonders for the ratings on what should be a child appropriate setting.) Unsteady on her feet and with a strong bar of red colouring her cheeks the long haired blonde raises a hand to slowly wave at her opponent while still holding a long stemmed champagne flute, clutched in the other hand an unopened bottle.
The cold isn't bothering her a whit in her condition. Possibly not much can, but she does respond belatedly to the Ho's and presence of another figure.
"Santa!! How're things? All.. Pepped-up and hnn..ready for the big night?"
There was playing a role and then there was method. Trish had apparently slidden right off the far end of the scale by either intent or lubrication.
Behind her wraps and glasses, Radha regards her fellow Santa. She does not have liquor with /her/, of course. She's a little jealous. "I would say that the big night's the first thing on my mind, my dear friend," she answers. "Given everything that we shall have to deal with. On this night..."
And then: The festive wind blows...
Radha raises her blades.
"And yourself?!" she shouts forwards as she breaks into a run towards Trish. The run becomes all the more elegant when the powdery snow that dusts the ice on which they stand rises up beneath her feet, adding a powdery fillip to her pursuit - to her closing of the distance - and finally, to the crude but effective double-thrust, spread, roll and jab combination she unleashes against her RIVAL SANTA at the last moment.
"Can you handle this level of festivity!?"
COMBATSYS: Radha successfully hits Trish with Complex.
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Trish 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Radha
The robed woman continues to smile throughout, even as the thrust crashes into and drives her back the pair of them are near lost in the kicked up spray of powdery snow and remnants of the billowing cloud. The shower of snowy white surrounding the pair intensifying with the thrust and slash of the blades, each blow connecting firmly as the opponent seemingly does little to block or evade.
Blows which should bite and slice deeply feel like they're making contact with an inflexible and firm body armour while there is clearly none word beneath the fragmenting robe. The wounds on bare skin revealed to camera and cold alive looking as painful as they felt Trish picks herself up into a seated position and instead focuses her attention on the bottle. It's unbroken and she shows great relief at that, she hadn't even been trying to dodge or evade, that whole time passing the bottle form hand to hand and otherwise shielding it with her body.
"That was dangerous! You almost ruined a perfectly good bottle. But I see how it is; needing to work off some stress? "
Climbing to her feet she makes a show of seating the bottle down in the snow and continues her lecture while patting at herself, dusting off lose fragments as well as clinging snow.
"There's perks to working year round instead of cramming it all into one night, ya know?"
One eye sliding closed; she continues to lecture in this teasing manner. Sure the holidays were meant to be something special but in others; it was just another day where accounts needed settling, Santa wasn't prepared for that kind of outlook.
The cold air clings to her, radiating from her position and sweeping outwards 9in all directions. Flipping and scattering away minute clumps of snow, a tiny detail easily missed.
Trish is forced to kick herself off into a dash rather than slog through all this snow in a raised heel. A straight palm strike that's pushing hardly touches her opponent and then stop, the strength of the technique completely at odds with the wallop which follows.
COMBATSYS: Radha blocks Trish's Fierce Punch.
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Trish 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Radha
"Stress? Who could be stressed at this, the most JOYUEUX of noels of the year?" says Radha Claus as she leaps into action, the incoming straight palm strike met with a crossing of the blades that produces an eloquent CLASH - and throws sparks into the snow!
They were blue sparks.
And totally devoid of heat.
There is a moment as if the universe is deciding just how to resolve how that works, but it turns out that it's enough to blast Radha back, up into the air, where she executes a creditable somersault (wintersault?) before landing downwards in a crouch.
"And yet here you are - drinking in public. Do you think that you will set a good example for the children, when our great rite begins, and the night extends out throughout the infinite void of every single house, where we shall deliver blessings or the turmoil of fossil fuels? Eh?"
Radha rushes forwards now. She acts like she's fixing to stab Trish - but this is a feint, because she is instead trying to slide her arm in between one of Trish's and chicken-wing-grab it, even as she runs past her and lets her momentum carry her forwards. Hopefully Trish as well.
And if all goes according to plan, she doesn't let go.
COMBATSYS: Radha successfully hits Trish with Infatuation.
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Trish 0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Radha
A snort escapes Trish's lips at men of making an example for Children. Honestly! She was neither a parent nor someone who wanted to be an example for anyone and was bemused at such a stretch of logic that those rules should for some reason be applied to her.
"Ara? I would think they have more to worry about being judged by an eternal overseeing grandparent than someone having a quiet drink with a colleague."
Wasn't that right Santa? If you didn't buy into all the hype then it was just a yearly review with bonuses and cutbacks. Depending on which country you lived in or how wealthy the family, Christmas meant everything between a Wealth of prizes and loot and comparatively nothing at all just half a world away.
Stepping back and twisting away from the path of the thrust Trish moves just the barest minimum needed to avoid the lunge, it would be too much effort to really throw herself into it. The sudden hitch catches her by surprise as does the groan escaping her lips. The pair of women mostly slide to a stop because of the heels carving a furrow in the ice beneath all that snow, her arm pullet taut and straining merely to keep the joints in place and tendons unsnapped.
"Ech! ...What kind of idiot complains about someone having a drink while they're busy inflicting violence on someone else?"
Folded part over as she was with a hair obscuring her face it's impossible to tell if her expression had changed. With Radha supporting her weight and pinning her so it didn't leave much room to manoeuvre, many limbs to move. Trish lifts one of her feet and slides it across closer to her opponents, a bad move since it did little to establish a base from which to recover to throw her opponent, and at that little range what could she-
"Vas het REMIDA"
The mumbled phrase coincides with a growing light tracing itself up around her heel as she steps back a few last inches to try stamping down hard on Radha's foot. Her foot had only lifted an inch but when thrust back down the impact can be felt dozens of feet away by the hiding camera crews. Bone-jarring if not breaking; It crossed a line to interfere with a physician's hands, their livelihood.
COMBATSYS: Radha dodges Trish's Fierce Kick.
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Trish 1/----===/=======|=======\=------\1 Radha
"What kind of an idiot calls someone else an idiot in an idiotic way?" is Radha's tart comeback, although of course she isn't very well able to follow up on that. She shifts herself forwards, but when that foot comes down, she twists her leg to the side - It isn't the swiftest of motions, but it's swift enough.
Apparently so, given that that mighty STOMP means that there's a crack in the ice. There is a subtle shift in the 'ground' beneath them. "Well," Radha murmurs, "that was festive."
She does not want to be anywhere near that crack, even if it doesn't seem to be turning into a calving rift in the snow-coated festive ice between them. Instead she twists round, aiming to flip Trish onto her side -- and, blessedly, release, one way or another. After this she scrabbles through the snow, getting it all over her red coat!
"God, what an awful h- No," Radha mutters to herself, "I can't let myself--"
COMBATSYS: Trish blocks Radha's Medium Throw.
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Trish 1/----===/=======|=======\==-----\1 Radha
The trick to getting thrown into the air, wasn't to worry about how much it was going to hurt in the short term. It was much more prudent to ensure you didn't breaking anything important; like a leg or a neck. When Trish does hit the ground with a cushion of snow as she drops onto her back, whipping around and continues to roll, the whole time out of control! but slowing, deliberately allowing herself to continue and gradually tumbling to a halt where her momentum runs out. The whole time with her legs pressed firmly together both arms drawn up either side of her face.
It was hardly a pretty or elegant solution but it was the safest course of action.
Lying there in the snow she entertains the thought of just staying down. The fight would be called, she could enjoy another glass of wine and this would all be over with. She also wouldn't make as much money for her performance.
Rising deliberately the statuesque blonde makes a show of shaking the excess snow off like it was dirt to be brushed away. Fixing her opponent with a level stare she considers, crossing all that distance to get back to Santa? ..Naaah, she'd just attack from over here and save herself the walk.
Pointing her raised palm at the red clad figure a glyph appears in the air between the two fighters, then another.. and another, duplicating quickly until there's several all up.
"It's been a while since I used this!!"
The rings beginning to revolve in the air counter to those either side it only takes a second for the first jolting arcs to spark their way around the outside edge of the barrel.
Trish wouldn't want to get hit by this, even if she was unsure of just how much attack power she even had in her these days. It was never her strong suit. Desperate times however called for desperate measure. Money was on the line.
"Sweetie, I apologise if this is going overboard."
She wasn't sure how serious she was mean't to be in all this. An apologetic smile, which doesn't seem at all forced or insincere.
The white sparks kicks off her palm, merely a fizzle but a lit spark travelling to and through the generator it kicks and set's off the stored up magic. The torrential blue-white beam with a dazzlingly bright core racing out at the lone opponent as if fired from a cannon; because it was.
COMBATSYS: Trish successfully hits Radha with Sagittarius.
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Trish 0/-------/--=====|=======\======-\1 Radha
"Then perhaps," Radha says as she rises up to her feet, "Tis the season?"
The rings begin revolving swiftly round as Trish manifests her glyph and and prepares herself. Radha can feel the power moving the icy air. She immediately regrets her words.
That torrent smashes into Radha as she raises her twin blades with every sign of attempting to block the incalculable force of magical swirling astrological MIGHT that Trish is pouring out from her heart, her soul, her body, possibly her champagne bottle --
It does not work.
When the light fades, there is a streak of clear dark water in the zone where Radha had stood. And more to the point, there seems to be no Radha. One of her swords sticks out of the edge of the ice, artfully stabbed down, and slightly bent, perhaps from a desperate effort to survive. Bubbles rise from that water.
Beneath that blackness is the Arctic Ocean.
Well, that's not a cheerful thought!
Even less cheerful is when a wet, seawater-soaked arm, still in jolly red even as frost flashes to form a horrid rime on dark skin and furry fabric alike, snatches its way out of the sea itself, aiming to grope blindly towards the ankle of Trish. Should contact be made, SOMETHING flows - a sort of calming blissful helplessness.
And something else pulls towards the water itself. Fortunately, that slit-trench in the ice is not large!
COMBATSYS: Trish reflects bathe with me from Radha with Libra.
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Trish 0/-------/---<<<<|====---\-------\0 Radha
Oh my! Quite probably-no, definitely! That was Overkill. Even if the fight were deadly serious it would have been a serious miscalculation to damage the ice so severely. There was absolutely no way Trish was leaping into that frigid water in these heavy robes, not even to save the poor girl. Aside from sinking like rock if these robes got wet it was entirely too cold and she was not into reckless heroics.
Green eyes drift, searching for any of the other human shapes she knew were out there somewhere, hoping for this spectacle fight to come to an end and them to focus on saving the poor girl. No such luck, or perhaps just as she should have expected. Potential lifesaving seconds ticking away and yet the fight continues.
"Uht -oh!! -I had no idea you were so close, let me help you out."
The palm she has pointed down at that icy water begins to gently and slowly close, the mass of water within her range of influence gathering in and around where the girl must be. To those quick enough to notice or perceive the violently foaming globule of rushing water rising above the surface is in a massed shape, one arm 'reeling' the mass up with a swaying kung-fu like motion while her other arm rises to an opposing level. Trish wheels about keeping both her extended arms perfectly parallel the motion hurls the globe of water overhead harmlessly and splashes it down hard on the ground formerly behind her. To the audience at home it might even have looked like a more conventional throw than it was.
Palm pressed flat to the snow after the throw it's the pulse of energy radiating out through the ground beneath that she is intent on obfuscating from the cameras. If she could just fortify the ice a little more and hold this damnable brittle battleground together until they were all safely away from it.
"Maybe you should call it a day after that dip, you can't afford to catch a chill and be out of commission tonight. Can you?"
So smug in her tone, it hasn't changed a whit. Always acting the authority and voicing supreme confidence in her assertions. Did El Santos have Santa on the ropes?
Water explodes around her, embraces her, raises her up like it's Zanarkand, and ends up smashing her into the ground. (The ice is at least not fatally compromised. That area already got weakened in previous poses!) Radha herself splashes, though the splashes start to freeze almost immediately.
She lays on her back for a few moments, not moving. Not breathing? Her outfit's starting to rime up! No good.
"Afford," she says with a little laugh that for some reason doesn't make a plume of mist above her lips. "What an interesting choice of words."
From this Radha rises. The ice rips loose from her as she twists around, aiming to sweep her arm around in a balletic posture. What comes out from behind it, or perhaps inside of that arm - it's not clear - is a sudden ripple of shimmering light, a net that ironically enough casts Trish's own blue-white palette in reverse. It's white on a background of blue!
The passing of it has that same curiously stimulative, light-headed, lassitudinal delight to it.
Don't fall into the hole, though.
"Father Christmas always visits the wealthy children with the most, doesn't he...?"
COMBATSYS: Trish blocks Radha's Delight.
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Trish 0/-------/--<<<<<|=====--\-------\0 Radha
There's a pause, an attempt to decipher meaning creates a hitch that stops Trish cold.
Everything had its price, even joy. Holiday time off with your family's, with the included financial pressures of food and gifts and frivolous decorations? Or was it travel, large gatherings of family? It was supposed to be about what you could afford to do, to give, to save for others. Joy was most easily spread, instead it was more common to treat it as something to amass and show off.
Both forearms snapping up to form the base and one side of a triangle the woman is enveloped in the net. It strikes with some force and wraps around neatly, a cute trick that. It was heavy too, in more ways than just physically. Why should she pretend to be feeling merry? it was harder than it seemed and this wasn't the kind of environment she liked. This whole fight was such a drag. She didn't enjoy getting injured or hurt but hey, it was a celebration.. of sorts! Festive joy and gift sharing while somewhere out there the fate of the world was being decided by few dozen people. maybe the end of life as we all knew it and only a select few in the know had to fret and worry about how it would go.
The alcohol in her system warmed her up, the heady buzz preventing these dark toughts form getting a real foothold. That was part of the reason she WAS just a little deep into her cups. There was a purse riding on the outcome of this fight though, and an over chilled and slushy bottle of wine in her immediate future. What came of the Mortal Kombat tournament would be fate, either outcome.
"Across the globe or in a small community, it's simple economics. Not so simple human behaviour. They're complex creatures, sometimes less is more. Sometimes people spend their whole lives working for the things they'll give away or pass on. Or to increase the quality and opulence in the gifts they give."
During the long winded speech, the tearing noise is audible as a set of fingernails punctures the cocoon of web and neatly slices downward, it begins to expand like an inflating balloon, quickly reaching the point it fragments with a loud ripping noise.
"I prefer to spread joy in other ways."
The phrasing. The netting was not the only thing ripping away, as there's significantly less robe and even the chemise worn beneath has a tear. There sheer amount of skin of display has dramatically increased but Trish continues in her stride. She wasn't up to all this talking, there was too much yapping and not enough drinking and she was guilty of it herself. This was no theological debate; it was a prize-fight. Alright, just get serious for a couple minutes, and then take a week off afterwards.
Cocking her arm back as if for a punch she begins to rush headlong at Radha, swinging a strike well early it stops before even reaching her opponent. Terminating with her index and little finger jutting out and pointing at the other. Devil Horns?
The massive piston is barely visible at a distance; this close up it warps air and distorts vision around it, the inverted weave was the biggest tell it was coming. A marble pillar spearing along the top of her arm and bears right into 'Santa' as if Trish were using fingers to sight in the touch attack. A peculiar giant pneumatic cue that was intent on smacking Radha across the landscape as though she were a snooker ball.
COMBATSYS: Trish successfully hits Radha with Taurus.
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~
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Trish 0/-------/--<<<<<|=======\-------\0 Radha
Radha wheels herself backwards. It was a good plan! If she was standing in a gym or in a place that was not, you know, 'the North Pole and also I'm in wet clothing,' this would have likely gotten her dodged and safe. Instead it strikes her with withering force, her Santa coat CRACKING - parts of it actually flying cryogenically outwards as Radha herself is thrown backwards by the power of the bull.
Seems like she got the horns.
Hitting the ice again, she does not quite crack it, but she does end up dislodging an icicle that had been formed in the course of the establishment of the course. Gritting her teeth, skidding a little, she hurls the jagged dart towards Trish - it is frustrated, and perhaps tainted by the pain of being hit, being cold, of the entire situation.
This is not my best debut in the world scene, is it, Radha thinks, even as she shouts aloud, "Let this mark your SLAY!"
COMBATSYS: Trish auto-guards Radha's Thrown Object.
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Trish 0/-------/--<<<<<|=======\-------\0 Radha
The icicle flies true, while not aimed so as to strike a vital point it's intimidating enough that it should surely throw her opponent, that cocky and sluggishly moving blonde back on the defensive. The cloud of diamond dust explodes into existence in a massive gust as the makeshift weapon makes contact with a solid barrier wall. The rain of slowed shards pepper against naked skin and cloth only to briefly expose the series of arcane lines; A single continuous pattern incorporating arcane sigil and glyph traced and woven around the entire body (with all its contours.)
"Sweetie, I drive a Ferrari Enzo; If you put a mark on it? I'd have to turn you upside my knee. In the very least you'd make my naughty list!"
The change in stance and drawing both arms back and cupped to her side, hands held close together she forces a tiny point of light into existence, a minute expenditure of energy. The sudden inrush of air as she forces layer upon layer of barrier together, crushing and trapping layer upon layer of compressed air into a sluggish glue-paste looking mass that continues to hoover up all the glittering ice surrounding her. A macrame football that was trembling and sloshing about threatening to explode all on its own.
"You don't want that. Or this.. I figure you've worked it out by now."
The Aquarius projectile leaves her hand with a forceful push and speeds off towards Radha with a slung trajectory that suggests it has weight and heft to it. Arcing like a football tossed back onto the field and seemingly unravelling at the seams and appearing to froth or fizzing mightily as part of its distended trail.
It's when Trish closes her palm into a fist that the mess of a projectile explodes rather than intending to strike.
COMBATSYS: Radha blocks Trish's Aquarius.
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Trish 0/-------/---<<<<|=======\=------\1 Radha
Radha seethes inwardly for a moment. PRODUCT PLACEMENT! She nonetheless staggers to her feet, exhaling with great force even as that inrushing air tugs at a strand of black hair that's escaped her Santa-esque hood. No, she thinks, even as Trish brings that sloshing thing together.
Not this AGAIN.
Radha lunges forwards with determined intensity, the frosted edges of her furs flapping as she runs ahead. She runs so straight and low to the ground that the incoming projectile does not in fact impact her. No, if it were that simple, she would be safe and clean other than the passing fizzy aftermath.
If it were that simple.
And if your aunt had "that" she'd be your uncle. The bursting blast above her sends Radha flying down into the ice again, whereupon she skids out, forming a streak of wet ice on top of all the other, somewhat drier ice, rotating even as she extends her arms and legs and ending up thankfully away from that hole in the ice, and firmly emplaced in a snowbank which has drifted round in the face of all these eruptions and calamities.
Having landed there, she is silent for a long, bone-chilling time. Long enough for pain.
Long enough to formulate her final words.
She does not get out without aid. (Strangely, she is completely fine after some blankets and a cup of tea.)
Planting a fist on her hip while letting the other drape down at her side Trish stands at ease otherwise the only thing moving were tatters that were her robes and long blonde hair stirring with the breeze. She was in no hurry to rush forward into an ambush nor was she in a position to call the matches conclusion.
It's only when the parka and fur clad crew begin to emerge from hiding and hand wave signals back and forth that she actually relaxes rather than merely giving the impression she felt that way.
A new heavy and silvery white cloak thrown over her shoulders to shield her from the cold is welcome, it's the bare minimum the staff had prepared and the majority of attention was focused on getting to and checking on the Santa girl. Which was fair enough considering the poor thing had taken a dip in the freezing waters and then been buried in a snow.
The camera's lingering on Trish rather than showing the hurry the rescue crew were in lest it disturb the home audience. Crisp frozen snow crunches underfoot, the brush of her hand to swipe frost form the table and that cheerful champagne cork pop. Foaming endlessly until she guides it to her lips and takes more than a swig.
"Eeeeee-aaaah. That hits the spot."
She was obviously in high spirits even before the squealing exclamation of satisfaction and groan afterward. God but she needed a drink but that was -so- cold, the sheath of protective wards and barriers coating her body did little against a slosh of the icy drink.
Aw crap, she was still meant to be playing a role and had to come up with something to bookend this little show, the look of consideration she gives the camera borders on annoyance now she was recalling she still had some kind of obligation (contractual, the worst kind.)
"Hey kids, it's Christmas for your folks as well."
The v-sign pose she flashes the camera looks more at home in a gravure photobook, held for just a moment she turns to walk away from camera lifting the bottle once again to her lips and tipping it back to drink even while walking. Some saint she was, but it was only pretend play after all. Anyone could tell she was completely unqualified for the role just looking at her.
back home, that aforementioned and very real Ferrari Enzo was waiting for her.
COMBATSYS: Trish has left the fight here.
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Log created on 20:01:06 01/08/2017 by Trish, and last modified on 00:02:59 01/14/2017.