PREVIOUSLY: The teams get ready to rumble. The matches start…now.
[A small grin formed on Princess Charming’s face as she finally prepared herself for the inevitable battle. She glanced back and saw just enough space behind her. She began swinging the whip rapidly, creating invisible, never-stopping circles. Her grin broadened, and she rushed forward towards the prince, aiming to slice him — if not with the first whirl, with the second or the third. The rotations were rapidfire; it made no difference how many times she had to aim.
She left him with little time to react. It was clear to see that she had no intention of stopping her barrage of attacks, and so he swung his polearm down — this time not aiming to slice her, but to catch the whip, tangling it around the long handle rather than the blade. He eyed her expression warily, his own face deadpan — her broad grin was a little unsettling, to be sure, but he tried not to let it bother him. He supposed that he did attack her out of nowhere, so it was understandable. Never mind. In any case, his goal was to yank the weapon right out of her hands, not to injure her — yet.
Princess Charming gasped as her weapon coiled around the prince’s own. She grit her teeth. Unwilling to let the momentum drag her with her weapon, she reluctantly released its handle and leaped back. Using the remaining propulsion, she dropped into an offensive lunge and immediately swung up her knee, then her lower leg, into a sharp crescent kick. It was unlikely she’d incapacitate him, but perhaps she could knock him off-balance.
He barely managed to move in time to avoid her attack, cursing the heftiness of his weapon internally as he more or less had to fall to his side to get out of the way. That was probably going to leave a bruise; the floor was not at all comfortable. He quickly scrambled to get his bearings back, stepping backwards as his gaze remained firmly on his opponent. In the chaos, her whip had come loose from the handle of his weapon, and had been flung into a corner of the room. It didn’t seem wise to chase after it, so he stayed where he was, having placed a good amount of distance between the two of them. Once again, he swung the polearm in a clean arc, coming from the direction of where her weapon had flown to, hoping to deter her from retrieving it.
The princess ducked out of the pole arm’s path near a tarry too late, and the whoosh of the weapon reverberated in her head long after it faded. Licking her lips, she considered her options. Without a weapon of her own, it would be hard to regain the offensive; she needed either to reach her own weapon or to seize the prince’s… or did she?]
Cecil: Um… sir, maybe we could just open the door? I haven’t checked to see if it’s unlocked, or anything, yet.
[Cecil lowers his guard as well but tries to keep his wits about him as he warily approaches Banality Man and the red door. Banality Man is too busy with the door to notice Cecil. He keeps punching the door until either he breaks or it does.
Cecil: Um, I’ve been thinking. The way to the dragon is probably through that door, yes… er, but what if only one of us can pass?
Banality Man: Hmm… You know you might have a–
[Banality Man suddenly stops punching and collapses instantly from sheer exhaustion. He is out cold.]
[Cecil glances at Banality Man before heaving another sigh and directing his attention to the door. Reluctantly, he tries the knob.]
Cecil: I… guess I might as well, huh.
Whoa, the match is over between Cecil and Banality Man? What lies beyond that red door? Time to find out…next week. 😉