BlasTech

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Matty

It's about twenty minutes after the Emberlight and Novasurge returned before Isabelle and another Terenian exit the private hangar. The scents of sweat and grease intertwine them both, clearly the results of a very vigorous training session. You might recognise Isabelle's companion from the party - the one that had the love of craft beer and karaoke. Clearly a trusted confidante who you can speak freely in front of.

They both stop short as they notice you waiting for them. Pink tints Isabelle's cheeks and she glances sideways at her companion. Is she surprised to see you or something? Embarrased to meet you in this informal setting perhaps? No time to worry about it though, you have your message to deliver, so that's what you do. After all, Mirror is counting on you!

In the awkward silence that follows, Isabelle seems confused.

Oh no, did you not do it right? Is there a problem? This isn't how the script is meant to go!

"I ... uh. I thought my deal with Mirror was just involving me. Why does she need my sibling's help with Solarel?" she replies, adjusting the legs of her coveralls, seemingly a little distracted still.

"I mean, don't worry; I'm not going to back down from my part, but given the uh ... questionable legality around this I hope you'd understand if I'm not keen on exposing my siblings to any potential fallout of my actions."

Oops. It sounds like she's just got the wrong idea. What will you say to bring her back onto track?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Preparation. It's always about the preparation isn't it?" replies Isabelle, farewelling Mr Minty with a decisive crunch. "Marna made a good point though - which is you can't really prepare for Solarel. All you can do is make sure all your tools are up to scratch and hope that, when push comes to shove, I can understand her well enough to pull a win against her."

Isabelle sighs.

"Understanding people is ... hard. I mean, I'm pretty good at it some parts of it - I was trained in how to get people to be on side, to understand what they want, all in the name of getting them to be able to do what I want. Mother made sure I could hold my own in any boardroom or corporate setting I got thrown into."

"But that's the problem, it makes people always seem like tools. A means to an outcome. Ironically, it makes actually understanding them: how they think, what they want, who they - who they really are ... all so much harder."

She thinks for a minute, before making her decision.

"I'll need to spend some time with Quar. She's been teaching me some of the Zaldarian sign language, I think they call it foesign? I'll need to get properly fluent in it by the time of the fight. But before then, there are some tests I need to run on some of the more ... prototype equipment."

"What kind of tests?"

"You haven't flown a mech before, have you?"

"Huh? No. I'd never be able to afford one, let alone fly it. Why?"

Isabelle just stares at her, smiling.

-===-

"Are you sure this thing is really meant to be this ... ugh ... skintight?" Asil asks, nervousness lacing her voice, as she tugs at the collar of her memory-weave flightsuit.

"Oh yes." comes Isabelle's voice from over the comms. "They need to be in full contact with as much of you as they can be to ensure the connection is as strong as possible."

Asil looks across the console, watching a dozen displays that show more information that she could ever hope to get across. Isabelle had towed the two of them out into deep space before turning over control of the mech to her and, she had to admit, the whole situation was more than a little overwhelming. Despite the assurance that it would 'come naturally' she couldn't help but feel like a child taking her first swimming lesson.

And the pool is the infinite black ...

"And the ... fitting process ... is part of it too?" she says, compensating for some of her worries by dialling up the snark at the speakers in front of her. It doesn't matter that they aren't sharing a video link right now, Isabelle knows exactly what she's feeling and has the good grace to sound a little abashed when she replies.

"Well ... no. Not really, that part was for my benefit. And uh ... hey! You enjoyed it as much as I did!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Lozano, but when we land, I'm going to enjoy every peeling you back out of your setup just as much as you did zipping me up in mine."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you? My tow cable is malfunctioning ... I'll have to come back for you tomorrow."

Asil can't keep the snort from echoing across the comms, instead opting to flex one of the arms and marvelling as the mech's motions mirror her own.

"Feels like I'm moving through molasses. Are you sure this is going to be good enough?"

"It'll be fine, your compatibility with the rig isn't the best but it's good enough for our purposes. I don't need you to be fast, I just need you to shoot accurately." comes Isabelles voice, as the Emberlight and Novasurge turn to face each other. "It's not about the mechs in this case as much as making sure the drones' functionality is operating effectively. This far out from the Arena and its nanobots, their abilities will be more limited - so we'll only be using training rounds and dumbfire projectiles."

"Okay, well, loading up the autocannon now then - I think?"

"Should be the orange button to your right upper quadrant."

"Ok thanks." Asil replies, hitting the button (and barely remembering to disengage the haptic sensors beforehand). "I do have to ask though ... if the mechs don't matter, why am I in the Emberlight? Wouldn't it make more sense for you to train in the mech you'll be piloting?"

The silence stretches long enough that Asil is just about to ask again before Isabelle finally replies.

"I ... it's just." she says, voice hesitant. Asil can almost hear the dozens of sentences that are going unsaid before she finally continues. "... It's your first flight. I wanted you to have the best experience possible. And the Emberlight is the best we have.

Asil smiles, softly, at the speakers as she levels the autocannon at the mech in the distance.

"Anyway, let's get practicing then." Isabelle says, voice all back to business. "Drone quick-fab test 1: Combat conditions. Ready on your signal."

Asil squints down the sights, sending a single thought towards the mech in their centre, before squeezing the trigger with as much care as she can.

I love you too

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle slowly takes another bite of the ice cream, eyes staring into the mid distance.

" ... I think I'd like to meet your bisabuela some day. She sounds ... nice." she mutters after a while, cheeks pinking at the implication of finally meeting her girlfriend's family.

"And no, my mother is not all-seeing." she says, and quashes the small, younger, part of her mind that deeply believes it. "She'd be hard to get to though, even if your bisabuela could find her. I mean, she'd need to first locate her room in either one of the mansions, or when she's travelling for work. I guess her itinerary could, in theory, be reached through public sources ... but finding out which room and what hotel she'd be staying at would be a more difficult proposition. Maybe if she bribed, or just cajoled, one of the staff at wherever she was visiting. Sweet talked them into sharing the hotel. But then she'd need to find a way to infiltrate its premises and either smuggle in or locate some accelerants. Then she'd need to find a way to lay it out at the main exit points. I'd like to think bisabuela could escape in any ensuing panic once the fire alarms go off, and --- and why the heck am I spending this much brainpower on problem solving this scenario??"

Isabelle pinches her nose, trying to bring her thoughts back on track.

Is it weird that I don't feel ... worse about the mental image of mother dying in a fire?

... is it weirder, still, that the mental image of an old lady going through so much effort to incinerate her in the name of family is kind of sweet? In a rather messed up way, I mean.

She takes a more substantial bite of the cone, chewing the minty goodness for a moment as she considers the sheer scope of mental damage she's probably dealing with here.

Maybe I just really want to set something on fire too.

"Aanyway." Isabelle continues, deciding not to unpack that just yet. "You're touching on a couple of important things with that idea. Firstly: for all her power and threats, mother really wouldn't know what to do in a physical fight. She'll threaten, she'll scheme, but she'd still be caught off guard if we just walked up and punched her in the face."

"N-Not that I'm suggesting we do that - or rather, that you should definitely not do that. She'd have a response if you did it. But if I punched her then I think she'd mostly be too surprised to react and ohgodimdoingitagain"

Isabelle hunches in on herself, blocking out the world and eliciting more backrubs from her awesome girlfriend. She takes care not to drop the icecream through all of this - she only wants to hide from everyone forever, not lose Mr Minty.

Eventually, slowly, the rhythmic circles coax her into unfurling once again. She takes a moment to look at Asil with gratitude, before continuing where she'd left off.

"Secondly: She's a bully. But she'll never pick a fight she knows she'll lose - and there are only a few people in the galaxy that she really fears. Adriana Teresio is one of them and, thanks to the factory contract we have with her, we have her in our corner. I'm also thinking Mira Fisher might also be one - given that mother hasn't retaliated against her yet after that show at the Gala. Maybe she's still figuring her out. In any case, it gives us options on how to defend ourselves once the tournament is over."

Asil - Throughout all of this, Isabelle has been deftly ignoring your last comments about how much she's carrying, or how strong she might be. Is that something you'll call her out on? Push harder? Or just lean into the denial?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle is silent for a moment as she thinks. It's not a pleasant topic, but the massage and ice cream are really helping to subdue the panic that would otherwise be bubbling to the surface right around now.

"It's ... " she begins, hesitating. These are stories she's not proud of. Details she normally tries to avoid. Were it anyone else asking - or even if Asil had asked just a little while ago - she would deflect it with the usual litany: 'You don't know what she's capable of, but I do ...'

But this was Asil. If she didn't deserve to know, then who did?

"When I was younger, the seneschal of our estate was an older man. His name was Guillermo, but my siblings and I knew him as Momo. He was one of those people who had been in the job for generations, literally. He'd served my grandparents when my mother was young and was now raising the third generation of the household alongside his own grandchildren."

She took a bite of her objectively superior mint-chocolate, savouring the flavour, hoping it would tramp out the rising bitterness.

"I can't remember the trigger; it might've been the twins misbehaving, or maybe it was after one of the times mother disciplined me, but I remember him comforting us. Telling us that things would be okay, that our mother still loved us, and that she'd had her own difficulties with her parents growing up."

"She ... didn't react the first time we mentioned it to her. Tad had unthinkingly thrown it back at her during one of her shouting fits. I remember her face, her expression just being blank. It was like she'd just checked out midway through the fight and ... and it scared me. But she just turned and left."

"The next thing we knew, Momo was gone. We found out later that she'd transferred him to staff one of the mansions she maintained out at the fringe of the Alastar nebula. It was little more than a hacienda on a sparsely populated planet near the border with Hybrasil. Far enough out that he'd had to take his family with him as the costs to fly back regularly would've been well beyond his means."

She gulps down another bite.

"And ... and as if just getting him away from us wasn't enough, she went and sold the house soon after. Pulled out all her investments from the colony. All the staff there were just ... let go." she finished, somewhat surprised at how steady her voice still was. "Forty years of service and he was just ... We never found out if he was able to afford passage back to the core worlds and she never let us travel out there to see if we could find him. He just ... was just gone from all our lives. All because he'd crossed her."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that she doesn't try to just defeat her enemies. She destroys their lives. As completely and ruthlessly as she can, using whatever resources she has at her disposal: Political. Financial. Emotional."

"And that's just one example from many. She's not above buying out companies just to fire employees, financing competition just to put someone's dreams out of business or using her contacts, of which she has many, to close off entire markets to people she doesn't like. It's not the most efficient way to do business, admittedly, but she has the resources and means to pay the costs of these things a thousand times over. You ask 'What's the worst she could do' if I cross her? Well ... she'd do that. To her own daughter. Without a moment's thought to what it would cost her."

Here she looks at Asil, looking into those deep brown pools that she's come to l- to li -- no, no more lies. Not to her. Not to myself, either.

She looks into those eyes she's come to love. Those eyes that make up her world. Those eyes that represent her greatest comfort but also the one place that Almira knows will get to her. She's searching for your reaction,

"She could have your engineering accreditations revoked, get you blacklisted from all the major companies within TC space. You wouldn't be able to find good work anywhere. And that's just to start with. Next, she'd find out where your family lives and go after them. Your parents? Your siblings? I mean, we haven't really talked much about them, but I know how much they mean to you. She'd go after your parents' apartment building. Your mother's job. And she'd be careful to ensure every step she takes is nice and 'legal', all but taunting you to try to fight her in court as another means to drain their accounts dry. Even if they all just relocate or roll with the punches, it will cost them more, much more, than it will cost her."

"And that's the thing: We all only ever get one life in this galaxy and she'd make a point to ensure that whatever life they end up living, whatever trajectory they take afterwards, that it'd be one that is harder, dimmer and far colder than what they could've had before I got in her path. And when everything is done and all the damage has been dealt, she'd pull me aside into her office. Make me stand there and tell me it was all my fault. And expect me to fall back in line before she does even more."

Isabelle stops for a moment, unsure if she should keep going. Something about Asil's silence demands to be filled, but she doesn't want to keep on with this topic - the point has been made.

"You're right, you know, you've got my routine down pat, but there's reasons I keep doing it." she continues, looking out the windows, watching the grav-cars speed past.

"It's like my instincts are constantly wrong as to what to do. And it's not a coincidence either. I've trained my whole life to pilot a mech. Almost from the day they found out that my compatibility was sufficiently high to have a realistic shot at winning the tournament, they've had me training on how to use the neural meshes. How to walk, fight, fly, until those movements became a part of me."

Isabelle pauses, her gaze turning down memories of training centres. Teachers. Tutors. Tests. Of dark rooms. Hard rulers and the red welts they left behind. Endless nights of study by fluorescent lights. Gruelling days of practice.

"Well, mother did the same thing to my social instincts too. Paid actors, false reports, tricks, traps and these fucking tests behind everything until I couldn't help but see everything like that." she continues, ruefully. "It took me a little while to convince myself that you weren't some kind of plant too once you started showing interest in me and ... I'm sorry that my mind even went there."

"I'm .. I'm trying to do the right things. But you can't just un-learn this shit in a day. And it's harder because sometimes I just don't have a frame of reference for what's the right thing to do." she sighs, letting the frustration bleed through for a moment.

"I think I know what I have to do, but once I do it - there'll be no going back. It'll be fight or fall. Are you sure that's still something you want to take on? Knowing what I've told you about what she could do?"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

There isn't any doubt in Isabelle's mind where the interlock came from - there's simply no room for it. Disappointment and Sadness have crowded it out, mixing together with Anger into a burning, bittersweet, mess. Because of course her mother would install something like that in her mech. In her Emberlight. The Novasurge probably had one too. Along with any other backups Isabelle might make use of. She probably hadn't even feel bad about doing it. It was just a matter of ... protecting her investments.

As if that was all she was. An investment. A project. A ... a thing.

She'd always known. She knew this. That was just how Almira saw the world around her. But ... it still hurt. Hurt to have it confirmed. Hurt to ...

She'd just hoped ...

Isabelle reaches out, emotions roiling. A current of anger swirls to the fore, burning the others to the background. The strength of it surprises her, it feels strong enough that she could bend steel. To break something. Instead, she just places her hand on the cool black exterior of the orb. So what, if her mother had never cared? So what, if this was all she thought of her?

Well, if Almira thought she held all the cards, then she'd find out. She'd show her. Isabelle always had another card to play.

She holds her hand against it, sharpens her will into a directive - she'd been experimenting with this ever since the dance ... no, before - ever since she'd realised that the nanobots from the facility were still active within her. That they were able to help her make things like her drone interfaces. Help her see the geists and interact with the world around her. There had been a reason the mark-one interface had worked for her when the other six hadn't for Asil. There was a reason her drones had been advancing so rapidly. Why their "illusions" were so realistic now. The construction magic of the arena had been woven into each and every one.

It wasn't proprietary technology. It wasn't programming skill. It had been the Trak'tho. It had been her. It had always been her.

Taking her hand away, she hopes the nanobots work as intended.

Integrate. Investigate. Prepare to disable.

"Well, it looks like everything is in order." she says, smiling at Asil as she closes the panel. "Want to go grab a bite to celebrate? I know a good restaurant a short flight away."

"I ... sure." replies Asil, whose eyes are locked on hers. "Even though, knowing you, it's probably some six star place that costs a thousand credits per dish."

She takes her hand, leading them to the shuttlebay. Inwardly grateful that Asil is smart enough to understand what she's really saying ... and kind enough not to mention the tears dripping down her face.

--------------==============---------------

They'd ended up at a library. One that Asil knew had private study nooks, set aside for patrons to browse or work in private.

Asil had just held her until she'd stopped shaking. Gotten her some tea. Sat in comfortable silence until she'd been ready to talk.

"It's only a matter of time ..." Isabelle finally said. "I'd hoped ... I ... well, I was wrong. If the match against Solarel goes badly, if I lose ... she won't have any reason to hold back anymore ..."

"Yeah, I know."

"No, you don't. You haven't known her for as long as I have. Haven't grown up with her. Seen what she's done. To other companies. To competitors. To people. Families, Parents. Children. I can't ... I can't let her do that to you."

"I'm guessing you have a plan?"

"I ... If it looks like I'm going to lose ... I want you to take my private shuttle and get out of the hanger complex, find a safe place to hide and wait until I contact you. We can get some money set aside. Find a new place to live."

"Isabelle."

"I- I can learn to cook - how hard can it be? It's just the focused application of chemistry after all. And - and you said I'd make a good mechanic, so m-maybe I can get a job. Fix things? And I'll dye my hair, change my name and .."

"Isabelle!!"

She blinks tears out of her eyes, belatedly realising that her girlfriend had been calling her name for the last few seconds. Asil wraps around her again and Isabelle grips on as if she'd float away.

"Breathe, come on. Count to five."

She does as she's told and the pounding in her chest starts to recede.

"You can't run from her. It won't solve anything. I think you know that ... and ... and I get that it's hella scary." she says, planting a kiss to the top of her head. Holding her tight. "But you can do this. You're stronger than you think you are. And I'll be with you every step of the way."

Isabelle snuggles into her, letting her control the situation and finding the comfort that comes from surrendering.

"Whatever comes. Whatever your mom throws at you. We'll figure it out. We'll find a way."

And in that moment, Isabelle believes her.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Thank you." Isabelle whispers, as she lowers her sword.

She looks around the arena as the Emberlight's drive drops to a low burn. Watching the random drift of debris or the silver flitting of her drones as they navigate their way back.

"And I don't mean just for yielding. I mean, for both the advice and the help." she takes a deep breath, stilling her shaking hand once again.

"You're right that these fights are about understanding. I feel like they all teach us about ourselves, in ways we could never anticipate. I ... hope I managed to return the favour a little. And I'm sorry I didn't get to understand you better ... perhaps next time. Or maybe outside the arena, if our paths cross again."

With that, she sheathes her sword and bows formally. It's possibly something that might be laughable if it weren't so sincere.

"Thank you ... I mean it.

And with that, she guides the Emberlight back towards the hangars. She has plenty to think about ... again. Before the next battle.

And the one after that - which will come whether she wins or loses.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Thankyou." says Isabelle, backing the Emberlight up as well while they speak.

"So yes, let's talk strategy. Solarel's has never been the most thought through, you're right, but she's laser-focused on getting to her prize. I wouldn't be surprised if she utilises all her remaining resources and skills to advance at this point - just to make it to that last match."

"So, in light of that - what is your strategy?" she asks, voice hardening. "I've been training, watching, preparing specifically for this ever since the match with Ada. Working to get better. I'll admit that I got into this competition for the wrong reasons. Duty. Obligation. Because I was told I had to be here ... But I've stayed for one reason and one only: Because I. Will. Beat. Her." "

"I need to do this. To show that I can be good enough. For my own reasons and not anybody else's!" she continues. "I've seen this mountain, fallen off it already, I know what I'm facing in her and ... and I need to prove that I can get back up there and climb it. And I think, no ... I know that I have the means to reach the top now."

"You've seen my drones, but you still don't know all they can do. You've seen my skill, too, but there are secrets I haven't yet deployed. Skills I have that no other Terenian, Hybrasillian or Zaldarian has at their disposal. Those are what set me apart - my strategic reserve, that's the point I won't hold back any longer, all pointed towards that one goal."

Does she remember how I saw her geist? She'll have a hint from that.

"What then, do you bring to the fight that Solarel won't already have faced, Marna Kerne?" she asks. "Zaldarian to Zaldarian. What do you have that she hasn't seen before?"

At this, Isabelle raises a hand, and a dozen bright lights flicker on from the debris field around them. Red target designators from her drones, aiming at the Lightning Rail from vantage points all around.

"Is your strategy enough to beat the fleet that shows up at your back?"

[Roll to fight, 5 + 2: 7 - inflicting a condition with words and seizing a superior position again.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle readies her strike, arm drawn back, preparing to end this. She's shown she has what it takes to win, to fight a Zaldarian and meet their attacks head on. But there is still so much she's yet to learn about Marna, about Zaldarian culture - even all the sessions with Quar have only begun to scrape the surface. Quar knows the Evercity, but the Evercity is not what she needs to know to beat Solarel.

What ... what if ... there is something in Marna's experience that might prove the key? What if the answers she seeks are just here?

Is it the fear of that knowledge being missed which stills her hand? Or something deeper that resists the finisher, even though that's everything she's been trained to do?

Or is it simple curiosity?

It's a risk stopping to talk, but she has to know. What if she misses out?

"Planning takes Tactics. Solarel lives tactics. But she also reacts. She reacts with the knowledge she's built, the experiences she has. Those are her great strength, but they are also limited." replies Isabelle.

"You've told me alot about Zaldarians, well let me tell you something about us Terenians. We're adaptable. We can change. We can learn and we learn fast." she continues. "Tell me, what Solarel doesn't know. Tell me about the border raiders."

"Help me have the chance to beat her in a way neither of us could alone."

[Roll to entice 3 + 3 + 2: 8 - Give me your wisdom, and by extension, your blessing]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Overwhelming force. Expected result. Dual purpose of expending overload of energy and shaping the battlefield in her favour. Emberlight isn't fast enough to outrun her, not for long.

Good thing I don't need to outrun her for long. Her mistake was relying on melee, when that has always been her preferred tactic. Inflexible. Predictable.

Riding a wave through the battlefield was, admittedly, pretty cool. But Marna was still sticking to the traditional Zaldarian playbook. Take the strike, internalise the energy, send it back at your opponent. Repeat when the opponent does the same. Or deflects it and attacks with their own reserves. The winner determined through the art of energy management and discipline over their own physiology.

As someone looking in from the outside, she couldn't help but notice just how much that unique physiology shaped so many of their social and mental mores.

Nonetheless - it was something she intended to exploit. Not all of the munitions she'd scattered around the debris field were meant to explode. Not all of them were meant to be so easily destroyed.

Some, several, in fact, were little more than electronics wrapped in smart cable - burrs, hidden in the foliage of metal and destroyed wrecks. The kind that might snag on when a mech passed by or - more specifically - smashed through the debris on which it was attached. The kind that sticks. The kind that drains.

Eat well. Eat fast. Pull more from her than she's planning to give, until her muscles and mind start feeling sluggish ...

... Time for Phase Two.

Several drones split off, each group arcing away from Isabelle - each one projecting a likeness of the Emberlight across visible and thermal bands. With each battle and week that passed, the technology she'd first debuted at the gala was becoming more refined. More complex. More real. Hopefully, they were now up to the task of properly distracting Marna - taking the heat off the Emberlight.

And giving her the opening she needs.

[Rolling to fight: 4 + 1 + 2 = 7. Taking away the energy from Marna's attack. Inflicting another condition.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle grimaces.

So it was going to come down to a fight then. No hidden heart here. Just a desire for contest and raw strength. Well ... Isabelle could do that and, what's more, she could do it the Zaldarian way.

After all, whatever Marna might think, this Terenian has done alot of study in the last few months.

"Sorry about the geist on your shoulder." she says, as she gently squeezes the trigger.

Lesson one. Speak not to the Outsider. Corollary: When your opponent is not an outsider, then speaking their language to them is the right thing to do.

In this case, Marna has been clear. She values strength, battle, a contest of wills and skill. It was different from Kiriala - who she had met blade with blade. There, her opponent respected the skill that came from meeting her strength head on. Here, if she led with that, it would show that she lacked the necessary tactics.

The lance shot arcs out perfectly, blasting right above the Lightning Rail's shoulder - scattering the poor geist that had been hovering there - and passing off into the black.

"You miss-" was all Marna was able to say, before the shimmering bolt of plasma struck true.

Lesson two. Everything is a resource.

Your ammunition. Your defences. Your stamina. All of these can be spent in trade to bring you closer to victory. Tactics is the question of how to spend them. What to spend. And what return you get.

In this case, the ordinance and directional shields she's scattered around were the currency. Collateralised with the battlefield debris that the arena so helpfully provided. With a single shot, a chain reaction ignites around Marna - every blast pointed inwards until the entire section she's flying through becomes a storm of fire and shrapnel.

Lesson three. Plan your moves ahead.

The blasts would be punishing, but she knew that her opponent's defences were tough. That said, the blasts were intended to do more than just overwhelm her shields, they also served to blind her sensors as Isabelle kicked in the displacement field around the Emberlight and pulled back to her next firing position.

Her opponent would no doubt take the hits she'd been dealt and try to overpower them - taking in the damage and internalising it for energy in the way that Zaldarians were wont to do. That would be fine. She knew, from talking to Quar, that a Zaldarian eventually had to discharge that energy or risk overheating - and also that too many energy shifts too quickly could disorientate them. And she planned many more before this fight was done.

She's been paying attention.

I hope you understand that Marna.

[Roll to fight: 1 + 5 + 2 = 8. Inflicting a condition and taking a string.]