Channelknight Fadran

"Don't hurt them."

"Then... you're working... for her?"

"Sure." Elya held her stance. It hurt like hell. Was he just trying to wait her out? If so, it might just work. "They work for him."

"I-if... your lighting Highness... wants his Little Shadow back..." Her eyes flickered to John, then back at Khaos. "Just... let them... go."

I... told you to run... lighting soldier... There wasn't any energy left in her to speak, though. That one word might very well end up being her last. All her focus was left on this lighting Mystic and his lighting blood powers, holding him off for what few minutes she had left. Maybe the others were actually trying to escape. Maybe her death wouldn't be totally in vain... @Emery the Steelrunner @DramaQueen @Tani

Too slow. Both of them. She'd been fighting for far too long to take any kind of feint like that--but her reflexes were lacking at best now. Elya slashed from below, driving her blade across the bloodstained sword of his. There wasn't any time to see what happened to John, but at the very least she would've saved him being run completely through. Then she began to press. One slash turned to two, then to three... then to a series of old patterns she'd hammered into her muscles a million times over. They weren't anywhere near as complex as she would've liked normally, but now wasn't time for options. Two minutes... maybe three? That had to be long enough. "Run!" She shouted, finally getting one word out of her bloodstained lips.

More screams? Maybe? Lights, she couldn't tell. John... you idiot... what are you doing? At this point she couldn't even see. Tears welled up and spilled from her eyes, blood dripped from her nose, heartbeats--each one weaker than the last--pounded in her ears. Half her body was numb; the rest was blazing with agony. Why was she still thinking about this? Find something stronger... Elya coughed and heaved sharp breaths, slumped against the wall. Her own blood slashed at her, tearing her jacket to shreds; tearing her to shreds. Each one was a note in the cacophony of pain. It kept her breaths ragged and her muscles tensed. It was holding her here. The fear. The pain. Find something stronger... He'd killed Ji. Elya grit her teeth and grasped her sword. ...than your will to live. Screaming one last battle cry, she darted forwards and slashed at Khaos's neck.

With another agonized cry of exertion, Elya pushed one leg underneath her, then hoisted herself back onto her feet. Stumbling into a wall and screaming, Elya squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked out, sliding and leaving streaks in the blood.

All of them. I have. It's still in my room. I don't know why. None of the others are.

One hand curled underneath. Then the elbow. Elya pushed herself onto her forearm, pulling up her head to look up into Khaos' eyes. They shook like hell, all the blood drained out of them. There practically wasn't any feeling left in her fingertips. But her limbs were what she needed right now to pick up her sword and fight. Elya concentrated on her breathing, slowing her heartrate while increasing her oxygen intake. Her body was already siphoning tissue and fat in a desperate attempt to hang on--all she had to do was force that away from the skewered kidney and intestines. Deplete all the vital organs, tearing at her longevity for little more than a few minutes of fight. Didn't matter. She was a dead girl anyways. "J-Jo--" Cough. A hacking fit. More blood; leftovers, it seemed. Lights. "John--" One syllable. That was it. No orders to run away or look after the others. Just his name. When had she met him. A couple days ago? It had only been that long for all of them, really. Kazh had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and she'd already been watching over Lyanor like a little sister. And Ji... ... Warmth started seeping back into her fingers. Elya clenched her hands into fists against the pain, then finally pushed the bulk of her weight onto her arms and knees. If the edges of her throat weren't slick with blood and her ears could hear anything more than the deadened thump of her heart, then maybe she would've noticed the screaming. She grasped her sword.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breath in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Hold it. Hold it. Breathe out.

PMs. DMs. In-thread; heck if I care.

Art Trades.

Can we do art trades

Draw some anime

IMPORTANT: Nobody gives a crap about whether your characters' looks are impractical or not. Only Shadiversity will make a forty-minute-long video debunking female breastplates and realistic sword battles. If someone's halfway through a book and realizes that someone's hat has stayed on through the duration of a fight, the brief lack of immersion will not be enough to cast the book into the fires of orodruin. What people will care about is whether or not your characters have interesting fanart. So let me tell you. Jeans and a T-Shirt. are nowhere near as interesting as Spiky shoulder pads big leather gloves red corset two layers of cardigans and swooshy skirt with big boots. Have fun with your characters, cowards. And remember that hats are always an option.

I dunno about this one. The proportions seem right and all, but there's just this looming aura of... bad-ness. But this one's cute! It's quite a bit different than the other kinds of things I usually draw, so I guess the ambiguity kinda helps.

Had she been prepared for that, she could've kept fighting. Divert the pain, control her breathing, fight back against his blood magic. I can... still... do it... But she was already on the ground, sprawled out in a puddle of gore. Her body was dead-set on pulling blood away from her arms and legs to attack the sudden influx of agony and terror. There was maybe a few minutes before she passed out, and not long after that until she was gone. Without her in the way, Khaos would slaughter the rest of them. Easily. If only... she could... move... Preparation would mean a few seconds to recuperate. The mental pathways would work on their own to keep her on her feet until her body simply gave out, maximizing energy efficiency. Without all that, it would take... what, a dozen times more energy? A hundred? Just to get up? Lights if you care, Elya! Those kids are counting on you!

Stop it... Get up... Keep fighting... Elya couldn't move. Blood drained out from her gut, coating the ground. It grew warm and sticky underneath her. She tried to push herself upright, but her arms barely even shook at the strain. They simply couldn't. With an agonized grunt of exertion, she pushed her head sideways. Air surged into her mouth, catching among the leftover blood. Hacking up what was left, Elya finally managed to cough for breath. Alright... Alright.. Use your head. Think. You have to save them.

There wasn't even a second to think. When he darted towards her she could've done anything--allocate her senses, slow her blood flow; stop her heart if need be! She could've taken the hit, held on, recalibrated her mind to hyperfocus away from the pain... maybe she would've lasted a few minutes against him. Long enough to get the others away. But she hadn't been thinking straight. No sound escaped her mouth. Instead, blood broiled up and coughed out over her lips, splattering onto the floor and sliding in a stringy mess down her chin. Then she buckled, her knees giving out and dropping her to the floor. Elya fell on her face, staining it with her own dirtied blood. More hacked its way out of her mouth, spilling out across the floor. Two pools sought their ways outwards from her mouth and gut. He'd killed Ji. He'd killed Ji, and he was going to kill her. Her and everyone else. And she couldn't even croak out one last shout for them to run.

Elya's eyes went wide. Her knees tried to buckle, but... they held out. An agonized gasp whistled out her teeth. Lights... No... he's one of them...

"Yes." She really wasn't wrong. Ji was all about revenge.

Still no movement, save for a flickering in her eyes. Then, glare hardening, Elya pressed her finger against the commlink in her ear. "Everyone get up here," she said, voice dark and determined. "There's a bastard here who wants to die." @Frustration @DramaQueen @Emery the Steelrunner @Tani

"But flowerpots definitely don't. Sooo."

"Probably because an enchanted flowerpot is less likely to break free and devour the brains of innocent students, don't you think?"