Post by EriChar on Nov 1, 2013 6:55:11 GMT -5
Tch. Their skills are pitiful… Hair dragged out of place and body covered in the black, blue and red of injury, it was a mark of the finely honed skills of this Sensual Swordswoman that in the battered and bloodied state she now found herself in, she could now look down on her opponents. A sabre in her right hand; which was probably the closest thing in shape and ability to the katana she had lost as was could be found among these enemies, and had been borrowed from the dropped body of a guard she had cut to the floor earlier, Shiroyama Yoko’s dual sword style had been restored to a state close to what would be ‘ideal’, and now she had no problems battling the variety of armaments that seemed to be flung her way. Denying the intent of spears, clubs, axes and of course swords, this level of battle was an arena champions ‘Bread and Butter’; battling a mass inferior foes to make a spectacle for the crowd, it was something that a swordswoman such as Shiroyama Yoko could do all day and night, provided she wasn’t already carrying the injuries and fatigue of battling two fellow champions.
Their numbers are endless though… Is that the only strength they have? Breathing hard, as more of the lightly armoured adversaries amassed, the young woman knew that she couldn’t simply stand on the arena floor and ‘outlast’ her enemies; she had neither the time nor energy for that now.
Cutting through the shaft of a spear with her katana, and then slamming the cross guard of her sabre deep within the face of a guard who fancied his chances with her, the girl from Wano Country was beginning to develop a subtle appreciation for this weapon so foreign to her; appreciating the versatility of its design, even if it was almost as dull an edge as a butter knife. While it was probably a sensation that would likely provoke a pang or two of guilt later on, there was a certain degree of satisfaction in her actions as she slashed and smashed the guards who had for so long tried to oppress her; ‘revenge’ was perhaps not the most noble of actions, but as she now found several faces who had beaten her in the past now bloodied on the floor, even one as humble as this exotic girl could not help but derive a slither of enjoyment in what she had done.
Completely within the zone, it was only the recognition of a familiar voice that prevented the woman from reflexively cutting through an approaching pair at her back, until she stayed her weapon and recognised the shape of Chester, who was now supporting the boy’s disgruntled looking body with his own.
“Ah, Chester; good. I'm relieved to see you both safe...” Flashing a quick smile to the pair, the eyes of the predator all too soon returned to Yoko’s face, swinging her body around to the back of her comrades and lashing both of her blades at the chest of a guard with a heavy hammer held high. Dragging her weapons across the man’s breast, a more light hearted soul might have found amusement in the fact that her assault forced the hammer from her opponents grip, and sent it plummeting into his skull comically, but the serious samurai was far from the mood where she could enjoy such slapstick.
An escape plan? Flashing her eyes around herself and the ‘lads’ like a raptor straining to spy the sight of a mouse, Yoko saw that a great number of her fellow slaves were now on the field of battle as well; some having picked up the weapons of guards and fallen competitors in order to trade clumsy blows with the plethora of prison-keepers pouring onto the pitch. Of course, while Yoko’s own skills had made her potentially peerless in this battle, those who had joined her side were not in the same regard of battle ability; most of the strongest slave fighters had already been tossed into the arena’s battles, and so what remained was an army of novices and servants. It was hardly an impressive cavalry, but one that had the spirit to fight back, and one that the girl would do her utmost to protect.
“We can’t stay here forever…” Perhaps gifted with a little bit of leadership potential from the ‘team death matches’ she had faced in her days, with her strength and experience, the Sensual Samurai knew that she was probably the best choice to lead this force away. Though by no means the inspirational orator that her young friend seemed to be, Miss Shiroyama had fought her way through a number of life or death battles with a total she did not care to remember, and hoped that this would be enough to steer them through this fight to retain their new freedom.
“Have the slaves take up what arms they can fight to defend themselves!” Bellowing a command back to Chester and Oskar, the young soldier drank what air into her lungs that she could as her body bend at the knees and lowered closer to the ground, like a fighting sprinter ready to take on a hundred yards of death.
“I’ll take the lead and carve us a path out of this death floor!” Leaving her friends to the safety of the crowd, while she would have preferred to personally escort them from the arena, the Samurai knew that she was probably the only person here who could have given their force much of a hope of escape, and so she couldn’t waste their chances with sentiment or hesitation. The swordswoman would have to believe in both Chester and Oskar riles, have faith that they were strong enough to protect themselves in this ‘war of liberty’, and give them the chance to survive later on.
“Follow me!” Calling back to the pair, and any who cared to join them in the fight for survival, the wild blades of this beauty were allowed to fly without restraint; for the sake of her comrades, the army of amateurs and pot-washers, she sped toward the guards filing down from the stands, and today Shiroyama Yoko was without mercy…