wibbly vs alium

Branwen sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils, and let it out through her mouth. Hot, dry air. Uncomfortable, just like the bright, glaring lights set in the center of the great dome overhead. She felt the countless pairs of eyes upon her; cold, ruthless stares, just like the convincing imitation of a tropical sun overhead. A month without leaving the Avandar following her conversation with the captain, and now this.

Her opponent stepped into the arena. Glided would be the most accurate term, but she could barely make herself apply that verb to the humanoid that faced her. Taller than any gorn, and broader. Light glinted off the musculature of his bare arms in a way that it never should off of mere flesh. Something that big should never be able to glide, but that's what he did.

Taking in one final, deep breath, she bent her knees and dropped into a combat stance, hands held up at the ready. Her opponent didn't move. He just followed her with his huge, pearlescent eyes. She thought she saw his lips pull back, revealing just a tiny hint of thick, molar-like teeth that went all the way around his mouth.

"Begin!"

Branwen's opponent didn't glide toward her, this time. He didn't even run. He bent his knees and uncoiled them almost faster than her eyes could track, and flew at her like a one hundred and sixty kilogram bullet.

...

Crack!

Her forearm was cut and bleeding where she blocked his own, pushing her own body out of the way off of his arm more than she was throwing off the punch itself. A titanic foot crashed down; was it her imagination, or did he actually DENT the smart-floor when he brought his leg down just where she had been? She landed on her back, rolling her spine just in time to wheel backward - knees over head - before jumping back to her feet a few meters further from the giant. Her arm was still bleeding.

The opponent's lips pulled back again into a cold, predatory grin that looked all wrong with the mouthful of slabs and soft, rounded snout. When he made that face, he looked like a mix between three or four different animals, none of which should have anything to do with each other. And he was untouched, and - as far as she could tell - untired.

Rather than letting him take the initiative again, Branwen went on the offensive. Crouching low and turning her legs into a blur, she wheeled around her opponent's left flank, then suddenly, when he began turning around and advancing to intercept her, kicked herself off the ground and sailed over his head, streaking down behind him and twisting around in midair to punch him right in the back of the neck.

It was like punching a duranium wall. He stumbled forward, nearly falling over, but Branwen's fist exploded in a fireball of pain. She heard two of her knucklebones crack. Damnit, down to auxiliaries. She tried to ignore the pain and bounce up from her landing into a springing kick, but he turned around faster than anything his size should have been able to move, and kicked her first.

Once again, Branwen was airborne, but this time she had no control over it.

...

CRASH!

For a third time, his body slammed into the arena walls like an asteroid deforming the crust of a planet. For a third time, she managed to leap or run or somersault out of the way with milliseconds to spare. This time, he anticipated her dodge, and flailed out around him with both arms while using his head to deliver the ruinous main strike. She just barely managed to dodge under his arm, and strike one of her elbows into the underflesh. She gritted her teeth, expecting to fracture another bone...but there was no pain. Instead, the giant grunted in pain, and quickly withdrew his right arm as he turned to follow her, raising his left into a defensive posture while the right recovered.

That worked? How?

Then, of course, she realized. Subdermal plating. That cheating son of a roc.

As he prepared his next charge, Branwen run through the battle until now, body shaking with adrenaline, secondary heart already starting to echo her main. Skull and spinal chord are vitals; he'll have had them protected the most. That's why I broke my knuckles on his spine. Forearms are for blocking; they've got armor too. Underarms need to be flexible. Posterior leg surfaces too...for him to jump like that, the muscles need to be able to move.

He charged again, head down, fists curled and raised to his shoulders. Branwen moved back, giving herself time to maneuver, and prepared to dash forward and to the right. Take advantage of his injured arm and try to hit him in the back of the thigh or calf.

Then, just as she launched herself to the side, he STOPPED. Branwen realized too late that he had realized what she had realized, and was unable to stop herself before he hopped directly into her path and jabbed his good fist out directly toward her chest. She was forced to grab it and let his own punch carry her body out of his path, riding his fist outward and then releasing it so she could land on her feet three meters away.

Silence. The giant was completely still again, save for his eyes that followed her movements, just as he had been at the start of the match.

If I don't choose the next step, he'll do it for me.

Branwen turned her back on him, and ran. He followed.

...

Crack! Crack! CRACK!

She was pulling her punches at the last moment as she sailed past his rear-left flank, landing hits across his shoulder and the side of his chest. Looking for a weak spot. Testing his armor. It all looked like the same milky-white skin and coiled ropes of muscle from outside, but the hand was more trustworthy than the eye. No opening, but when his fist lashed out in a wide, swinging motion coming from the other way she ducked under it and jabbed her own straight upward, stabbing full force into the inside of his bicep.

He gasped, jerking forward further than he meant to, and Branwen took the opportunity to roll across the ground beside him, get up again before he could recover, and plant a twisting, rifling heel into the crook of his left leg; the inside of his knee. No armor; just muscle. With an unsettlingly normal, yan-ros like shout, the behemoth fell forward onto his knee, and Branwen fired another fist into the back of his thigh just below the lower hem of his jumpsuit shorts. This time, her half-broken knuckles caught on skin, and tore it. Red blood sprayed out, but so did another, thinner, clear liquid. It splashed across Branwen's arm and jumpsuit, and burning pain lit up the entire front of her body amid an acrid smell of burning cloth.



Acid. Of course, he would have subdermal acid sacks where there isn't armor.

Almost choking in pain and surprise, she stumbled backward, tearing off her top and using the part not covered in acid to wipe off her arm, which was already covered in angry red blotches. In front of her, the opponent limped back onto his feet and turned around, his pearlescent eyes now burning hot with pain and rage. However, they widened when they saw the belly and shoulders she had been hiding. The deep, almost machine-like creases that ran around her waist, giving her torso nearly 360 degree mobility. The muscular chords criss-crossing across her midsection so thickly that they bulged her skin like snakes lurking beneath.

His eyes widened.

"Who designed you?" He asked, his voice far too calm and quiet for a being his size.

Branwen, gritting her teeth against the pain, flashed him a bloodthirsty smile. "Vail."

Then, she jumped over him again. His inner arms were too bruised; he wasn't fast enough to intercept her before she caught the sides of his head between her feet and dragged it after her to the ground, slamming it into the smartfloor like a fallen boulder.

He got up faster, but she had already rolled halfway across the arena and out of his reach. His legs were too damaged; he couldn't run or jump after her before she got up again. And when he did, she was ready, leaping to the side and slamming her elbow into the back of his already damaged knee, gritting her teeth against the pain when she hit the acid-leaking tear again. He bellowed, and fell. Ignoring the renewed burning in her elbow, Branwen jumped up and brought her foot down on the opponent's snout, crushing the parts of his nostrils that were still natural cartilage even as she felt her foot break against the parts that weren't.

She hopped back. Still up, if barely. Blood flowing from his face, he tried to get up, but couldn't. Reluctantly, he drew in a long, exhausted breath through his mouth - bypassing his ruined nostrils, and slammed his fist three times against the floor. From the sides of the dome-shaped chamber, the cry was given, and the painfully bright light went dim.

"Medical attention!" a raspy gorn voice called out, "both of them, medics!"

Branwen was shaking, just barely able to pick up her ruined shirt and use it to rub the acid off of her now-blisteing elbow, collapsing on her back as she tried to stay up on one foot and failed. A few meters away, she could hear the loud, gasping breaths of the imelak champion. From the corners of his pearly eyes, he was now giving her a look of awed respect. Somehow, she managed to repay him with a forgiving smile and respectful head nod of her own before the uniformed Starfleet medics closed in around her, and the helmeted imelak biotechnicians did the same around him.

Never again, she told herself as she welcomed the painkillers, I'm never setting foot outside the Avandar again until this mission is over. I don't care WHAT the Commodore wants.

"Well then," the last, raspy words she heard before the medics dragged her out of the ring went, "I think you've shown me more than enough of your 'invincible warriors,' Legate. Commodore Leaniss, a word if you don't mind..."