Scene #6536: MECC: Stella vs Starbound Flotilla

Owner	Pose
Starbound Flotilla	https://iodbc.bandcamp.com/track/the-missionary-voice Water crashes dramatically at the edge of the arena. Only the Starbound Flotilla could pump a small lake's worth of water into the facility, reality-warping zone or no. Moonfin steps dramatically out of it, ascending a staircase built below. Around him, several tiny islands rise, and trees rapidly grow from the earth using esoteric technologies until they bloom into cherry blossoms and begin to cascade their fresh flowery payload onto the field. His armor is a stylish mix between a samurai's armor and a diving suit, an aesthetic that matches an elegantly-crafted katana sheathed at his waist in what looks like a diver-style piece of industrial equipment. He draws it in one clean motion, whips it just barely above the surface of the water such that it stays dry while still kicking up a stylish slicing wake, and then steps to his corner of the arena and takes a ready position. A few flips of the blade. "In many cultures, it is seen as bad luck to shatter a mirror. In mine, even moreso -- unless that mirror is one that is warped. Value exists only in accurate reflection." His blade is brought into a defensive stance, ready to battle, eyes wide and focused. "I shall have your flawed surfaces broken if they dare to give me an imperfect reflection, Gemétoile."
Stella	Stella had arrived earlier, probably entirely too early, and stood in the arena waiting like a statue. Infinitely patient, without any desire to be late and be unknightly, she had eagerly - which was new - awaited the start of her fourth match. Each had been instructive in its own way, though she was now left with the conflicting ideas that 1. people are boxes, 2. but actually they're flowers. Titles play a part, and knights should have six names. She's still trying to condense all that information into something that makes sense to her and is usable. She probably won't manage it. In contrast to the heavily armored Moonfin, Stella lacks armor, wearing instead only a dress - but like her skin and hair, the dress glistens like painted over gemstones, and betrays the material it's made of by the fact it doesn't much flutter in the wind. She turns to look at her opponent after a moment of silence, evidently puzzled. "Gemétoile?" she asks. "I do not know that word. I do not know how perfect or imperfect my reflections are, either." Kinda hard to self-verify that one. As signal lights flash from red to yellow, Stella produces blades, crystals that burst out of her wrists, form swords, and then drop into her grip, rather than to outright reshape her arms. When the lights flash green, she darts for Moonfin, not especially fast or deadly, but opening with a regular one-two series of slashes. "Are you a knight? Your armor is unorthodox, but knights generally wear armor."
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin plants his feet firmly, refusing to weave and evade. "I am no knight. I am a craftsmen of equipment such as this, a samurai of great renown, but more than that, I am a missionary." He says, in arrogant tones. "One who espouses the virtues of the Hylotl race. And I do so by embodying them. Come and see. Second Sea Hylotl Style: Through Storm-Tossed Waves!" He maneuvers his blade elegantly, with swift motions that parry each dangerous strike barely clear of him, maneuvering around the second strike with an advancing spin that ends in a wide slash meant to knock Stella back and slice her badly besides, then moving in for a rushing series of heavy thrusts, meant not just to pierce solid stone-like materials, but also to force Stella to be on a retreat or suffer much greater wounding.
Stella	Moonfin's strikes pummel Stella. Her skin and clothes chip, indistinct from one another when it comes to hardness. She stands her ground for entirely different reasons, even as his blade dents deeper and deeper into her crystal body. Yet, the moment he pulls his blade back to strike again, it almost seems like the crystal mends itself, chips and cracks returning to pristine form after a few seconds. "Is a samurai not a kind of knight? That would make you a knight of the Hylotl." Her mind seems made up already. "You say you espouse the virtues of your race. Is that what defines knights?" She seems to care more about the answers to her questions than the fighting. In fact, she does. Between two of Moonfin's strikes, her stance shifts, and she takes a step forward, attacking not with her blades but with her body, as jagged spines of crystal burst out of it in a full 360 circle, but looking mostly to capitalize on the fact he stayed in melee, and might be too busy swinging to deal with such a sudden, untelegraphed strike.
Starbound Flotilla	He's too busy to see it coming. His armor isn't, though. As razor spines rush towards him, his armor's automated systems identify Stella as a dangerous mineral deposit and automatically blink-teleport Moonfin back several paces the moment his armor starts denting badly. Skidding back, he flicks his blade to one side, clenching his teeth. "To call me a knight would be to declare a great wrong for our species. Knights are the agents of those who would wage war. A knight is most of all defined by the rules he brings to the battlefield. But the Hylotl do not wage war. We master the blade so that we are not mastered by it; the perfection of our craft ensures our respect, not our victory in some barbaric contest of armies." He does not comment on the samurai thing basically implying the same thing. Words mean different things to weeaboos, maybe? Now that he's clear of the bristling spines, he can approach the matter differently. Twisting the hilt of his blade, he summons up a rush of elemental energy, a churning and roiling form of fluid water along the surface that seems to fine-tune itself to a razor's edge at the blade's end, like industrial steel-cutting water-jets. With this fluidsaber active, he moves in for several swipes that threaten to rush through the 360-degree crystal-bristle with enhanced length! "Fifth Sea Hylotl Style: Streams Carving Canyons!"
Stella	"I see. So that is what knights are meant to do, then? Wage war? Partake in contests on the battlefield? Bring rules, represent an agent?" A king, Stella reasons. That had been a common thread so far, that knights must represent someone. And from her own experience, it seemed a core part of the identity. Water crashes into Stella's spines, shattering the extensions into fine crystal dust that scatters around the arena harmlessly. She's actually knocked back by the blows, this time, tumbling hard into the ground and remaining there, motionless. But before the last of the waves fade, as the deadly waters still reflect off her swords, her body, her dress, Stella plants one blade into the ground, and the arena rumbles. "How can a blade master a person?" she asks, oblivious. Spires of shimmering blue crystals erupt out of the ground around Moonfin, sent rushing underneath the arena from Stella's position. The moment they break the earth, the release geysers of high-pressure water, entirely alike Moonfin's own strikes. Too alike, in fact, to be anything but a reflection. "Unless given will, an object cannot do that."
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin didn't weave and dodge before. He does now. His armor is highly resistant to water, it seems, which is a logical sort of thing for a fishman's technology. The industrial-grade water-blast threatens to take him off his feet. He calls the bluff, and dances between them like a martial artist. "Of course it can. A man with a great blade will believe he is great. A man with a blade in the gut of his foe will believe he is right. A man with a blade in his hand will believe he must strike. A blade will master them. But not I, and not the Hylotl. We wage no wars, not one, because of our great insight. Because we have mastered the blade, and have not been mastered by it in turn." Leaping free of the barrage of metal-cutting waters, he lands and skids over the shallow water left behind by the attack. "Let me show you my mastery. Your defeat, crafted in three assaults. I warn you now, do not dare to blink or look away, because I will not forgive you if you should fail to see the beauty of your defeat. First, Fourth Sea Hylotl Style: Lost at Sea!" He takes steady, practiced steps forward, moving steadily and slowly in a way that doesn't at all fit with the sheer multitude of angles he suddenly strikes from, weaving around her in a way that's incredibly difficult to track and even more difficult to strike back at.
Stella	"You are saying someone holding a blade is more prone to making mistakes. Is that right?" Hey, she actually managed to grasp something for once. "That you have studied to rise above this risk and become incapable of error." Moonfin waves around her incredibly fast. She lacks the speed to track his movements, and so aims for a different approach. She hits the ground hard with her feet, and her body begins reinforcing itself with an extra layer of crystal, that Moonfin's rapid blows have difficulty piercing. His blade chips and breaks her here and there - but it's not making her budge. "Is that not a flaw in your approach? I was told masters of their craft are doomed to fail, for they have no reason to improve. Those who do not wage wars cannot hope to win wars when they must. Those who do not accept risks..." A single strike, as Moonfin passes by her almost imperceptibly. She thrusts one blade forward, trying to impale him onto it, without fancy tricks or a fanfare. Sometimes, stabbing is all you can do. "Cannot learn from them."
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin is so caught up in his kata and his momentum that he winds up actually slamming hard into the thrust. WIth a heavy grunt, he pulls back abruptly, twisting around and maintaining his motion. It looks like she managed to pretty badly dent the armor, and crush a strike through to the flesh within. It was shallow, though, enough for automated medical systems to kick in. "When others have made their efforts to war with the Hylotl, we have taught them why we are not simply unpracticed in such things, we are /above/ them. Our perfection cannot be /inferior/ to the imperfections of the others. What would there be to learn?" He says, still continuing to weave. What agility! It takes a lot of flexibility to get his head firmly, /firmly/ up his own ass. "Two assaults remain. "Fifth Sea Hylotl Style: Storms at Sea." He moves to strike with absolutely unthinkably intense force, a barrage of wide swipes meant to force Stella's body to basically get knocked about by even just the kinetic impact of even the shallow strikes, and trying to send her tumbling in ways that make it really difficult to get her bearings and preserve her momentum!
Stella	What IS there left to learn when you've learned everything? Stella considers that question. What she'd been told, lessons she received, didn't always make sense outside their context. She simply drones on what she was told, then. "The art of war is an ever-evolving one. New tactics are created every day. New means to counteract those tactics every other day. If one masters it all, and stops learning, would he not then be blind to the new developments?" Babby's first awful argument. Moonfin slams in with his strikes, powerful and numerous, rather than simply rapid and numerous. Stella's outer layer shatters, and where his blade connects with her body, deep cracks begin forming, healing more slowly as the fight drags on. Her movements stall a bit, especially where her elbows and knees begins showing battle damage. But she roots herself firmly into the ground - jagged spikes bursting out of her feet, like claws or roots trying to hold her in place. From the cracked and broken pieces of her body, from her body, and from the ground, countless crystal blades suddenly rise into the air, shimmering with too many colors to count, Stella's real 'color'. They're everywhere - and Stella's tactic seems simple enough. Deny Moonfin space to move. But also pin him in place, hard, as the blades converge towards him, trying to skewer him to the arena floor, or at least make such a mess of blades his armor can't wrestle free. "Perhaps you are right. I cannot comprehend the notion of being perfect. There is so much I must still learn and understand. I do not know what I will do once I have all the answers."
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin points his blade dramatically to Stella, halting the battle for only a moment. "We need not know the advancements of war. We are above war, and beyond it. We will never wage it, and when it is waged upon us, we defy it in the perfect way of the Hylotl. We master the blade, and refuse to be mastered by it. This is the nature of the Hylotl, the truth we see through superior perspective." He blinks all three eyes as if to accentuate the point. Blades come down. He is barraged, and while they don't thoroughly pierce his armor, they do rattle him, forcing him to pin in one position despite some weaving and maneuvering. Power is draining from his armor, subsystems are shutting down. There are a few bright-red pop-ups on his cyan HUD. He ignores them. "Now is the last of it. The final strike I will need to make against you, Gemétoile, before you fall." What an arrogant ass. He casts aside the rest of the storm, twisting the hilt of his blade dramatically as it begins summoning up a huge storm of shockwaves. As the blade gathers power, crackling with energy, even just the shockwaves of wind and energy are enough to lightly damage the body. "Sixth Sea Hylotl Style..." His armor burns with exotic cyan fire! He's gonna go for it!
Stella	Don't worry, Moonfin. Stella can't feel things like "what an ass" or "omg he's so arrogant". Mostly she feels a lot of conflicting thoughts about the wisdom being given, and whether or not she can apply it to herself. But she isn't perfect. And she's certainly no Hylotl. "I still do not understand. How will you win a war without waging it? A knight who stands above all others in skills, must still use his skills to win a battle. He cannot simply say he is so skilled that he wins. Can he?" Well, according to Moonfin, maybe?? Stella's not so sure anymore. Shockwaves crash into Stella, but she presses on. Moonfin seems to be charging up. There's no sense waiting. If one sees a chance to strike, one must seize it. The same energy that the samurai is gathering reflects off Stella's surface, off her swords. It builds up around her in the same fashion, but she uses it differently. She raises both hands, crashing her blades together. They crunch into a massive sword instead, crackling blue and alive with a pale reflection of Moonfin's power. But a pale reflection should suffice. She brings the sword down to slash, or, given its size, it's really more like crush. She doesn't even need to close the gasp, with how long it's gotten. The blade'll probably shatter into a hundred pieces on impact, but it should leave the Hylotl with a headache and then some.
Starbound Flotilla	"Burial at Sea!" The moment the blade comes down, Moonfin blasts off on a rocket-powered dash that's so blisteringly fast that it's almost impossible to see. The impact of the sword on his body is almost simultaneous with the sweep of his blade towards Stella's. It's silent, precise, refined, and calculated. It's one of those strikes that cuts so cleanly that it's hard to realize you've been cut before the blood is already spilling. There is, of course, no blood to be had here. But this doesn't stop the man from sliding by from a cut delivered so fast that his demands that she see it might be hard to meet. He's trying to finish this off... In one strike! A dramatic finale, where the damage is so focused that it's only revealed after he slides his katana back into its Matter Manipulator sheath. He speaks as he does. "Understand violence. See every drop of blood as it falls. Every bruise. Every trauma. See it in the hobbling of a wounded veteran. See it in the fearful look of one who lives in abuse. See it in the edge of the blade and the barrel of the gun. When you do that, you shall put the pieces together yourself. You shall see what others do not, and know what it is to be above violence. You shall be beyond battles and beyond war. Or you could," He finishes the slide off with a final-sounding click. "If you were Hylotl." Cue the wound. Smug bastard.
Stella	Moonfin passes Stella, and nothing happens. He lectures her on her racial inferiority, and then she shatters. Cracks that spread so rapidly from her bisected body that there's no time to react. Stella crumbles into pieces on the ground, chunks of prismatic crystal without much of a hint of what they used to be. And then they rumble. The crystals grow rapidly, Stella's regeneration kicking into overdrive. They hurriedly cobble back together, produce new ends and limbs, reform something that looks vaguely humanoid, sans the coloring of human skin or clothes. Just a crystal golem, in her purest form, badly damaged, cracked, and certainly giving Moonfin the imperfect reflections he didn't want. "I cannot change my species. Therefore, I will never reach the level you are on. That is unfortunate. I suppose that your methods simply cannot be mine." She sounds dejected. A bit sad. And then she leaps for Moonfin. Her body erupts into a mess of tiny swords and needles, jagged spines like before but much more numerous (and smaller). She twitsts and spins her body, like she's turning herself into a drill. A messy, battered, spiked drill, but a drill nonetheless.
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin looks smug. Satisfied as he's shattered the enemy. Secure in his victory. Well, thank goodness the matter isn't /quite/ over yet. With a heavy leap, Stella plunges down on him. He can hear enough warning in the crackling of crystal that he can get the flat of his blade up and ready, but not much more than that. Between him and the churning crystal, it blunts the strikes, it doesn't stop them. The drill forces him down so hard that it actually winds up digging, properly, into the arena floor. "How...?!" He barely manages to spit out. "/How/?!" He shoves back from the strike, and makes abrupt use of a far more sinister approach than before. He shoves away and begins to /dig tunnels/ with his mining beams! The collapse of arena flooring around Stella may be damning in its own way, making it harder to pursue and cashing around her as Moonfin digs back up to the surface! He emerges, bursting out of the water like a fish leaping through the air, and lands dramatically, blade at the ready for another bout -- albeit exhausted, his suit power systems clearly failing badly. "You've spoiled the artistry of your own defeat." He says. "I will not forgive it. If you will not have a beautiful defeat, I will finish you in the barbaric way you seek."
Stella	Stella seems to be able to track Moonfin's underground movements just fine. Her head turns slightly to look as he digs away - as she recovers from the spindrillkick, and her body rapidly keeps mending itself, regaining more and more of her appearance and looking less and less like a multicolored, gleaming representation of a complete Nobody, featureless. "I am not biological. The material I am made of is capable of regenerating itself from the smallest piece." Well, he did ask how. She has to oblige, as literally as possible. The collapsing ground doesn't seem to bother her. Despite her body's state, if there's one thing she seems able to nail, it's keeping her balance while grounded. Following and flowing with the movements of the earth. She looks at one of her hands, missing several fingers and cracked. "I do not know the first thing about art. I was told that to appreciate art, one had to be in-tune with their emotions. That is difficult for me. I apologize for ruining your art." She sounds sincere. Or as sincere as she can, being so monotonous. Shards of crystal form in her damaged hand, clumping together into a nasty-looking orb. She releases it, and it floats ominously in the air. Then it flies, straight for Moonfin. It's a grenade! On impact, it's going to burst into a dozen crystal spikes, all growing right out of the sphere. If it penetrates his armor at all, it's going to be devastating.
Starbound Flotilla	The bomb approaches. Even if it's not explosive, it's a brutal weapon, one that threatens to tear Moonfin apart. He does not move. It arcs towards him. He does not move. It slams into his chest, knocking him off of his feet. He... falls, limply. He is still not moving. It goes off, impaling his body. He, still, does not move. The armor is twitching and sputtering. It sparks... But it does not bleed. It does not bleed even a little. It also isn't holding Moonfin's katana. "Vile." Moonfin's voice says. "Know, above all else, the work of an artist is not to be treated lightly, or abused. Beauty must never be tarnished." There it is again. That sound. That ominous click of the blade. Behind Stella, Moonfin, armorless, sheathes his sword. Mere seconds ago, it seems, he merged his hammerspace and short-range blink-teleportation abilities in the strangest possible way: Teleporting out of his own armor while Stella was looking at her own hand! Also mere seconds ago, he struck. Perhaps only now Stella will feel it.
Stella	Another impossibly fast, delayed strike. As Stella turns to face Moonfin, almost lethargic in her movements, she suddenly cracks audibly, and her body almost bisects again. Almost. It holds together, like a horrifyingly carved up person refusing to fall down. One of her legs and both of her arms hit the ground, broken into pieces from the impact. Her face is cracked, losing its features. "I see. I will endeavor not to tarnish an artist's work, in the future," she says simply, and very matter-of-factly. But as for now? Her broken pieces sharpen, and suddenly launch off the arena floor like... well, broken chunks of crystal. Some sharp. Most blunt. Hard and heavy. She clearly doesn't have many other options at the moment, even if her regeneration is trying to sprout new limbs faster than Moonfin can hopefully carve them off her again.
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin already sheathed his blade like a dumbass. The barrage of shards flows over his body. He's got no armor this time, and sprays of shallow blood cuts tear into his body. Bit embed in him. It's kind of horrifying. "Why... won't... you... stay... down...?!" He grunts, in pain. He can't dodge, not without his armor's strength-enhancing movement systems. He can't block, not without his blade out to hold it back. He's above to be bled to death. His hand goes for the hilt of his sword... "Fifth... ghhhh... Sixth Sea Hylotl... Oh for balance's sake!" He strides forward defiantly through the shards. The hand on his blade hilt steadies him. "STAY! DOWN!" He swings a crushing, brutal punch with a webbed fist. He may not have power-armor on, but he's got enough manly fish muscles in there for a solid strike, trying to smash Stella's reforming face in and finish it!
Stella	Moonfin smashes Stella's face in, quite literally. The body remains upright, balanced on one leg. The crystal rumbles and cracks, and starts reforming again. It just never stops, like a perpetual motion machine that grows crystal instead of makes power. You'd think a member of the Flotilla would appreciate a source of infinite, extremely rare and seemingly unique ore. But she doesn't move. Even as her arms and missing leg slowly grow back on, she never moves. "I am incapable of staying down," she states. "However, I am capable of running out of "energy" to move my body with. You likely call this energy stamina. It is similar. In short, I am no longer able to fight you." Which, by tournament rules, means Moonfin wins, obviously. It's a KO either way. The tournament regulators are quick to point this out. "You are powerful. Therefore, your words on perfection, knights and war must be right." That's how it works.
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin shakes his fist off, letting the fragments fall out. He pants, exhaustedly, clearly pushed to the limit of his motion by all that. He puts pressure on the bleeding that this crunchy festival of broken glass has left on his hand... and some of his arm... and most of his upper body. "I see." He says. "How unfortunate for you. Perhaps when next we meet in combat, knowing this, I can arrange a more... fitting artistic loss on your behalf." He works the fingers in his Punchin' Hand. There's terrible gashes in the webbing. "You can see, I'm sure, how unpleasant it is to deny a beautiful defeat. It is unwise to deny it. You will find few as kind or skillful as a Hylotl in providing." As for her assessment of him? "Hah. Among other things, powerful. If that is what proves the greatness of the Hylotl way to you, then it is good to see you convinced. Perhaps you can improve your own station... to a degree." Smug! Smug smug smug. He waits for her, for the arena to re-energize her, and for his chance to give her a final handshake as they split back up and wrap this fight up.