[IC] SLAM - Pollen Vs. Doc

[Doc Doctor]

@Drifting Pollen

The Autumn-gold light of daybreak filled the streets, flooding between shuttered windows and casting its blood orange glint on the gently rocking waves of the sea, breathing fresh vitality into the sleepy village, promising a brisk start to a particularly lovely day. A child trounced over a road puddle left by the night's light shower, a dog could be seen stretching its way out of an alley. Before long the smithy would be up and hammering out his wares, and the warm scent of coffee and fresh baked bread and cooking meat would slowly but insistently permeate the streets as housewives prepared breakfast. Before long doors would creak open and the villagers would emerge, relishing the cool, dawn-charged air as horse drawn carriages began their comforting rattle, passing two and fro on errands unknown.

The child stopped playing abruptly, and stared with wide eyes as the rind of sun rising from the sea was eclipsed by the broad silhouette of an uncommonly large man, cradling a lean two-handed sword in the crook of his left elbow, a spiked targe strapped to his right forearm, and an assortment of other brutal implements hanging at his waist. The puddle had only just regained its serene reflection of the life of the village, a glimpse of a blue sky tinged red framed by roughshod, but comfortable dwellings, when the man's boot unceremoniously plowed into it as he trod along his way, heedless of the tranquility, his presence disturbing drowsy villagers back behind their doors, windows slamming shut. Catskull's eyes, unlike the puddle, mirrored only the dull cold of his heart, baleful in their regard. He was passing through this peasant village only because it was unbefitting for a Maclung to walk around lower creatures. As much as these hovels and their wretched inhabitants disgusted him, he'd not allow himself the dishonor of being inconvenienced.
Before Catskull stood the stunned boy, unable to help himself at the sight of this strange, dark man. Catskull did not stop. He paced directly into the child and felled him with a curt knee to the face, trodding over the unfortunate like a doormat and continuing on his way, leaving the injured to scream and cry. Nobody emerged to help. One such as Catskull was not without repute, and the telltale black garb and wanton cruelty of the Maclungs was infamous even in the far countries. This particular morning, however, there was something more substantial than a mere peasant child standing between Catskull and his ambitions...

[Drifting Pollen]

...and she was leaning against a wall, arms folded in front of her, narrowed eyes watching the dark silhouette steadily make its way up the road.

The villagers did not know why the foreign woman had appeared in their hamlet, nor did they ask. True, she was female, unarmed, and armored only in wool and silk- but her thick, tattooed arms and cold stare were answer enough for most. A strange kind of thug, alright, but the rule remained the same: stay away, mind your own business, and you probably won't get hurt.

Probably.

As with any rule, there are exceptions. Like that big man in black, walking up just now. He was only passing through, not even stopping on the way, and yet his arrival triggered a change in the muscular woman. She had been still, solid as a rock, but now her burly arms unfolded. One reached behind her, and emerged holding a long loop of steel chain weighted with a small block of metal at either end. The other swung at her side as she stepped out from her resting place, her eyes never leaving the man in black. As he came within thirty feet, she planted her feet in the middle of the street, straight in his path.

"You are the Cat Skull?" Her voice was deep, her tone bored. The chain in her hands clinked as she unwound it, one weighted end now dangling from her right hand. If her expression was any indication, she didn't much care whether her question was answered one way or another, or even at all. He looked tough enough. He would do.

[Doc Doctor]

@Drifting Pollen

Catskull grinned sardonically at her, and in a freshly made alternate dimension, Catskull #2 scowled ominously and hefted his Dane sword in both hands, left over right, left foot sliding a shoulder's length apart and backwards. He almost fully extended the sword before him, tip aimed at a point several inches above the woman's head. He'd begin striding towards her with over three feet of blade held two-and-a-half feet before himself. Meanwhile Catskill #1 continued talking. His method was a simple one. To maintain his frightening image, he killed those who stood before him from another dimension, thus making it seem as if he had killed them by will alone. Only the fallen knew they'd been struck down firsthand, but even that information became lost with the closure of death.

"Hmph. Ye' know of mine repute but still ye' brandish thy chain before me? Tell me, what be thy name, that on thy grave marker I may urinate on my way back through this festering dung pile called a village."

[Drifting Pollen]

@Doc Doctor

Original timeline (#1):

The man stopped, introducing himself, and Tekla Pavlovna raised an eyebrow. Either this one was far pettier than he appeared, or he was stalling for time, trying to get her guard down. Perhaps he meant to take her by surprise? Or perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment to try and run. Pride demanded she answer him, but common sense kept her from getting wrapped up in conversation.

“In these lands, I do not have a name. They do not know me here.” She stepped forwards with her left foot, fiddling with the chain in her hands. “But since you ask very nicely, I can tell you what my name will be.” She gripped one weighted end with her left, letting the other dangle about three feet down from her right. “After today, Cat Skull, they will call me Skull Breaker.”

With that, she began to amble towards him, slowly closing the distance between them. If he didn’t react or interrupt her, she’d come within fifteen feet.

A dangerous distance, as Catskull would already be learning elsewhere.

Alternate timeline (#2):

The man drew his weapon, carrying on implacably towards her. As she’d thought, he wasn’t one for words. Tekla stepped forwards with her left foot, fiddling with the chain in her hands. She gripped one weighted end with her left, letting the other dangle about three feet down from her right. In this manner she waited, letting her opponent come to her.

At least, until he began the stride that would bring them within fifteen feet of one another.

It was then that she pushed off her left foot and lunged forwards with her right. Her right arm snapped out, right elbow swinging ahead of her before fully extending, throwing the free end of the chain forwards her opponent. Her left arm came forwards as the weapon flew, keeping the chain from going taut before it reached its target.

It was like a striking snake, so smooth and swift the eye could barely track it. Nine feet long, moving forwards and slightly leftwards so that the weight and the last foot of chain spun around Catskull’s leading right leg as it came down, wrapping it tight. Before he came anywhere near close enough to use his sword, he’d be ensnared- and Tekla would waste no time in yanking the chain back, pushing off her bent right leg and using her whole body’s strength to try and haul his right foot forwards and upwards, ruining his balance and bringing him crashing to the ground.

[Doc Doctor]

@Drifting Pollen

Two seconds into Catskulls introduction, an entire set of alternate dimensions were brought into being. Catskull #3, created from Catskull #1, allowed his Dane sword to tumble to the ground, quickly drawing his rapier in a left underhand grip and the axe in his right. It'd take him only a hot second to shift his grip and right the rapier the way it was meant to be held, bringing it to bear by fully extending his left arm towards Tekla and aiming the point at her face, left foot leading. The shield and axe he kept relatively low. Provided Tekla didn't rush him in an attempt at keeping him from fully arming himself, not an easy feat given how much distance she had to cross, then he'd pick up the offensive and began creeping towards her, unwavering in his confidence.
Catskull #4 paused for two seconds after his creation, stopping to cough, but still keeping his eyes on Tekla before he resumed his approach. All the other Catskulls were apt to see what was going to happen to #2.

Tekla flung the end of the chain, and Catskull #2 was startled by her speed. He couldn't quite tell where the chain was going to fly, and thus in response he bent his right knee to drop lower and hunched over, blade whirling into a low outside hanging guard. The tip buried itself into the ground twenty inches from Catskull's lead foot, so that whether the chain went low or high, it'd catch the sword instead of a limb. If this came to pass, then immediately after he'd rush her, moving low and fast so that she'd not be able to pull the chain back efficiently with the sudden increase in slack. The shield was born horizontally before him, Dane sword cocked narrowly at his flank as if in preparation for a mighty two-handed horizontal slice, ready to defend or attack with equal parts efficiency. The chain would likely just slip off the blade. He'd be able to reach her in only a few seconds, slowing as he neared so he'd have a significant degree of control if she tried pulling something fancy.

Meanwhile, the Tekla that had to deal with Catskull #4 would witness the man neatly perform the same action that #2 had done, albeit much more calmly and with fractionally better timing. All the while, the original was still yammering on about the repute of the Maclungs and how insolent this woman was. His actual thoughts couldn't have been more different.

~What unnatural speed is this? No human woman could swing like that. This one is as swift even as I am, the ensouled Maclung trained by Malimore himself. To think a mere peasant... I should have emptied mine bladder at yonder pub, for now do I risk the dampening of my loins at the next bewilderment this concubine reveals.~

[Drifting Pollen]

@Doc Doctor

Tekla #2 raised an eyebrow as Catskull’s sword came down and stopped her chain short of ensnaring its intended target. Not bad. The man came forwards, and she backed away, pushing off her right foot and transitioning from there into a quick series of retreating steps. The distance between them would close slightly, but not enough to bring her within reach of his sword. As things stood, she had the range advantage, and she wasn’t going to let go of it so easily.

The slack meant she couldn’t bring her chain rushing back for an immediate follow-up, but she still had her hands, and they worked quickly to draw it in. Once it was free of the sword she’d pull it back, spinning it once to build up momentum before letting its length loose again, this time in a wide overhead arc that would bring it hurtling down towards Catskull’s head from above.

Tekla #4, meanwhile, was lagging slightly behind #2, though her eyebrow rose slightly higher as Catskull defended, and she seemed to smile a little. This one’s movements are masterful. She retreated in much the same manner as her counterpart #2, before proceeding with the same attack, though there was a slight difference- she moved just a little faster, filled with adrenaline by the thrill of meeting such a skilled opponent.

The other two Teklas were just making their opening strikes. Tekla #1, unimpressed by a man who seemed to be nothing but talk, would stride into range before attacking with a similar movement to #2 and #4’s initial attempts to entangle their opponent’s leg. This one, however, was aimed higher: roughly at chest level, meant to strike him hard in the ribs with the weight at the end of the chain, bringing his rant to a premature end.

Tekla #3 diverged the most, reacting strongly to Catskull’s change of armaments. She made no attempt to rush him, but struck before #1 on account of her opponent’s own forward movement. Rather than lunge, she swung her right arm gently forwards, a movement too slow to be an attack in and of itself. Then her grip loosened, and she snapped out with a crisp, powerful kick from her right leg. She was much too far away for this to hit Catskull, but he wasn’t the intended target- rather, she kicked the dangling weight on the end of her chain, shooting it straight towards Catskull’s head, aiming to smack him with a concussive blow before he could bring his shield up.

[Doc Doctor]

@Drifting Pollen

Catskull #2 maintained his steady forwards pace, closing in foot by foot. As the chain came down, he weaved to the left with a grimace of effort, almost stumbling and losing a pace. He wasn't used to having to fight opponents on par with his speed, but...

He was a fast learner.
This variation of Tekla seemed more virile, and he figured that it wouldn't be much longer before she totally branched away from what the original was doing. He knew by now that she was at the peak of human ability, but she knew not the same for Catskull. The Maclungs were typically known for dark magic, dark hearts, and foolish deaths. Catskull himself made sure that his original didn't get his hands dirty in public, allowing his alternate selves to cleave opponents apart so that it appeared as if he had some kind of remote sorcery. As most fit men would still be about a half dozen meters per second slower than him, he figured he had a good chance of taking her by surprise. As the chain came swinging down, he abruptly let loose and darted to the left and past it with expert timing, like a running back avoiding a tackle. He broke into a full on sprint, boots pummeling out wild rhythm as he whizzed towards her much faster than she'd have probably liked. She might not even have time to fully recover her chain for another go-round, unless she turned full around and sprinted away from him to maintain that distance. He'd slow once he was within two meters of her arm reach, that he not overshoot the mark or be taken by surprise should she suddenly stop or reverse in an attempt to catch him off-guard.

Catskull #3 progressed quickly, eyes smoldering with purpose. As the weight was booted at his face, he dipped to the right like a boxer slipping a punch. It soared past his head, and as it did so he aligned his rapier perpendicular to the chain, running the blade along it like a dullard's xylophone as he sought to cross half the distance at a dash. He was using the weapon to judge how quickly she was withdrawing her chain. Each Catskull was collecting information, sharing it, filling out their roles.

Filling out their roles so #1 could continue running his mouth. He had just touched upon the unique facets of inbreeding and how the abnormally strong women it cultivated were still peasants nonetheless, when she finally got in range and swung for his body. This was probably the last attack in the order given the lackadaisical pacing, and thus this Catskull was the best prepared. As the chain lashed out, he waited until the last moment and then took a large step back onto his left foot and leaned backwards, letting the weight flicker past his body. It was a bit closer than he'd have liked, damn thing almost hitting his sword. Next time he'd have to pay better attention, he mentally chided himself. She wasn't expecting him to know of her speed, or the precise length of her reach, but even then he had accounted for the monstrous reflexes he supposed she had, such being the reason for how tight he'd timed his seemingly effortless evasion.

"Hmph. Peasant! Lick these boots of mine, and mayhaps thy death shant be the final rectification for thine insolence."

[Drifting Pollen]

There! Tekla #2 spied an opening as Catskull dodged to her right. He hadn’t been entirely ready for her attack, and while it wasn’t enough to make him lose his balance, it was a sign that he was cracking. Her retreat was slightly slower than his advance, putting them at a little less than her maximum range, and that would close more if she wasn’t careful. She needed to hit him now, before he could recover his focus.

She guided her weapon even as it swung down where Catskull had been, controlling its descent. When the falling weight bounced violently off the road, she immediately flicked the chain rightwards, so that the rebound swung towards her opponent's legs to entangle him. With the attack coming so soon after her previous one, and from a likely unexpected angle, she’d have a better shot at snagging him this time.

In an adjacent timeline, however, there was no opening.

Any good fighter could try and anticipate their enemy’s moves, to some extent, but Catskull seemed to have predictive abilities Tekla #4 could only dream of. Could this be sorcery? Or was he just a prodigy? What little she’d heard about him suggested the former, but right now she didn’t have time to ponder- he was closing too fast, her attacks barely slowing him down as he sprinted forwards.

The sight filled her with a mixture of excitement and fear, and she let it show. Her eyes narrowed, worry flickering across her features, and her right hand fumbled and dropped the chain before she could fully draw it in.

He predicted correctly: she did try and take him by surprise as he came within two meters of her arm’s reach. Her retreat suddenly stopped, her back leg bent and her right arm hanging low near her side while her left hand swung upwards, throwing the weight she’d held and a few loops of chain at his head. Abandoning her weapon entirely, in a wild act of desperation.

Emphasis on ‘act.’

Tekla #3 frowned at Catskull’s strange use of the rapier and started retreating - but more slowly than the others had, letting him come closer without quite giving him full control over their distance. Rather than immediately striking again with her chain, she began to loop it loosely around her left arm. For some reason this one had changed tactics, though what her plan might be now remained to be seen.

Tekla #1, however, was feeling less patient. With her first strike missing him just barely, she whipped her chain efficiently back and stepped forwards with her left foot. “Why do you even carry a sword-" She swung it overhead, slamming it down at him from above as she stepped forwards with her right. “-if you only fight with your tongue?”

[Doc Doctor]

@Drifting Pollen

The chain halfway encircled Catskull #2's legs as he was recovering from the brief stumble, however he still had his eyes on Tekla, saw her jerk her hands, felt the chain as it belted across the back of his rear left leg and swung about on the axis of his knee to snag at his other limb, right before he was set to pick up his next stride. The weight swung about, and completed its encirclement of his right leg. A common warrior might have kept charging in a foolish panic. Catskull was level headed. He knew he had to unfuck himself as cleanly and quickly as possible. Before Tekla could jerk his leg out, he paused to let go of the hilt of his sword with his right hand and batted his right fist down to smack the weight, sending it back around his leg the way it had come so when the inevitable pull came, the thing would just spin off him. If Tekla were hoping for this to serve as another distraction, the lusterless eyes glaring into hers put such notions to rest. Perhaps if the Terminator existed in this realm, she'd have been able to draw a comparison between the mechanical technical efficiency and unshakeable tenacity both entities bore. Were he to free his leg, then he'd continue the chase once more, striding quickly after her, both perhaps sharing in the knowledge that no one trick or technique would work twice.

Catskull #4 was wary, but without hesitation. He had an array of concealed knives on his person, and was aware that no warrior worth their salt was without the same. Knives were to be carried religiously, and to be used with tact and slight of hand. He was under no illusion that she probably had one of her somewhere, and given how she'd nearly caught one of his temporal clones, he knew for sure she was cunning. That being said, Catskull had a saying. "Don't mistake a horse for a zebra". If you look too closely for something that isn't there, you'll only deceive yourself. She chucked her chain at him, and as she had let go with her other hand and had aimed at his head, he felt comfortable ducking the shot without fear of her somehow trying to wrap him up again, but he was quite sure she had wanted him to duck. There was no point in aiming high with the chain other than provoking him into a predicted position. He was fine with that. He ducked no lower than he had to, and at no point did he take his eyes off her. He himself had thrown many a knee, foot, and blade into the mugs of fools who ducked carelessly, and Catskull had no intention of being caught off guard. As he did so he spaced out his hands on the handle of his Dane sword, left at the top, right at the bottom. Since she'd stopped, he'd slow down considerably, that when her body came within range of his blade (if it were at full extension) he'd only be moving at a slow pace favoring his right leg forwards, heel-toe, heel-toe, mindful of the position of his feet and her reach relative to his. He had considered only for an instant chopping at her arm when she had thrown the chain, but as a rule of thumb he attacked only when at his optimum range. He wanted to make no mistakes, risk no needless injury, whether she was unarmed or not.

Catskull #3 intently studied Tekla winding up her chain as she slowly backed up. He wanted to see how much she was going to shorten the leash, so to speak. Did she want more control over her swings, or perhaps she felt like trying some sort of Kung-Fu iron arm thing on him? There was but one way to find out. He'd either slow his pace or increase it, depending on how quickly she was winding up her chain. He wanted to adjust his stride so that the weighted end would be in front of him, and he wouldn't walk past it, letting her draw it back to that degree before continuing.

Catskull #1 saw the attack coming, one that he'd evaded twice before. He was aware that she might mix in feints and other ambiguous techniques after the basics failed, but he considered himself experienced enough to pick such things out at a glance, so long as he could put a pin down on the physical abilities of his opponent. She'd startled him a few times already, and his ego was bruised, despite how she was clearly a class above even respected knights. To Catskull a peasant was a peasant, and he would not let this lowly woman see him sweat. If anything, he wanted to crush her resolve first. He curtly sidestepped the downwards stroke (to his right), replying without missing a beat.

"Should not a butcher save the flame for after the beef hath been parted by the knife? Ye' have not yet warranted thy fate, for mine blade be only for they who are fit to touch the hem of this, mine tunic. Ye' cannot yet touch even the wind that follows my footsteps, knave. Thou art not ready for the blade or the flame."