The moment the drow matron’s attention fixed fully on Azrakar, Vyx’aria released the spell. The shadows around her hand snapped and the spear of condensed night tore through the air like a screaming comet. It struck the woman square in the back.
The impact hurled her forward in a flash of crackling energy. She shrieked, but did not fall. Runes flared beneath her armor, ancient warding sigils blooming in a lattice of violet and gold. The spear shattered into motes of darkness, dispersing against protections layered deep and paranoid.
“Damn it,” Vyx’aria hissed.
She was already moving. Her blades were in her hands as she burst from cover, armored skirt flaring with the motion as she closed the distance in a blink. Steel rang as the matron recovered just in time to meet her, curved blades colliding in a shriek of sparks.
They circled, fast and vicious.
The matron fought with practiced cruelty, sweeping strikes meant to disarm, to cripple, to dominate. Vyx’aria answered with precision, ducking low, spinning, letting blows pass a breath from her skin before answering with cuts meant to bleed and distract. They moved like dueling storms, boots skidding over stone, blades flashing in tight arcs.
Vyx’aria vaulted onto a crate, kicked off the wall, and came down in a whirling slash that forced the matron back two steps. Cloth tore. Blood spattered stone.
Azrakar had an unobstructed view.
She moved like a weapon given will- lethal, fluid, unapologetic. Every twist of her body was balance and intent, armor shifting with her like it had been forged for this exact dance.
The matron snarled and lunged and Vyx’aria leapt.
She flipped clean over her, landing behind her in the same breath. One hand grabbed the woman’s white hair, yanking her head back brutally. The other blade came up in a clean, merciless arc across her throat.
The matron’s breath caught in a wet gasp.
Vyx’aria leaned close, lips brushing her ear as the body began to slacken.
“Tor’Rahel sends its regards.”
She released her. The corpse collapsed at her feet, wards guttering out as blood pooled dark and final across the stone. Vyx’aria straightened to stand, cracking her neck as she drew her blades to her side, spitting out blood from taking a pommel hit to the face.
Azrakar
The impact hurled her forward in a flash of crackling energy. She shrieked, but did not fall. Runes flared beneath her armor, ancient warding sigils blooming in a lattice of violet and gold. The spear shattered into motes of darkness, dispersing against protections layered deep and paranoid.
“Damn it,” Vyx’aria hissed.
She was already moving. Her blades were in her hands as she burst from cover, armored skirt flaring with the motion as she closed the distance in a blink. Steel rang as the matron recovered just in time to meet her, curved blades colliding in a shriek of sparks.
They circled, fast and vicious.
The matron fought with practiced cruelty, sweeping strikes meant to disarm, to cripple, to dominate. Vyx’aria answered with precision, ducking low, spinning, letting blows pass a breath from her skin before answering with cuts meant to bleed and distract. They moved like dueling storms, boots skidding over stone, blades flashing in tight arcs.
Vyx’aria vaulted onto a crate, kicked off the wall, and came down in a whirling slash that forced the matron back two steps. Cloth tore. Blood spattered stone.
Azrakar had an unobstructed view.
She moved like a weapon given will- lethal, fluid, unapologetic. Every twist of her body was balance and intent, armor shifting with her like it had been forged for this exact dance.
The matron snarled and lunged and Vyx’aria leapt.
She flipped clean over her, landing behind her in the same breath. One hand grabbed the woman’s white hair, yanking her head back brutally. The other blade came up in a clean, merciless arc across her throat.
The matron’s breath caught in a wet gasp.
Vyx’aria leaned close, lips brushing her ear as the body began to slacken.
“Tor’Rahel sends its regards.”
She released her. The corpse collapsed at her feet, wards guttering out as blood pooled dark and final across the stone. Vyx’aria straightened to stand, cracking her neck as she drew her blades to her side, spitting out blood from taking a pommel hit to the face.
Azrakar