She'd always been strong, like all her ilk. She'd always been short, too, even before her handlers had told her smoking was stunting her growth. After her master had tried to Liquidate her- a fancy way they'd put trying to kill her- and she'd lost a leg escaping, she didn't have any plans to grow any taller.
Now she stood Off to the side of the arena that was her home (by dint of she killed things and they let her sleep in a pen), leaning on her sword and inhaling on the cigarette in her hands. She wasn't watching the cheering, booming crowd, or the sands around her- she was lost in thought.
Today was PORKCHOP day. All she had to do was kill until the sun started to set, and she'd get to eat a whole lot of them. If she did this quick, she could get back to her pen and take them from the cook instead of picking them off the floor. Her mouth was already watering, part with expectation of violence, part with hunger.
"We've got a real exciting match for you today, citizens!" Boomed the magically augmented voice of one of the commentators. She thought his name was Wilks. She'd met all the announcers at one point or another, but once she knew they weren't going to fight her and she wasn't supposed to kill them, her brain didn't consider the information important.
"In the sands now- You know her, you love her! All the way from the Stone Plains, winner of the last eight blood games, your champion! The maiden of massacres, the daughter of death, our little slaughter-stork, VOTH-7!"
She glanced up at the crowd when they screamed and cheered, taking a deep pull on her cigarette and blowing it out her nose. They hollered her serial number and stamped their feet, while children waved blunt tin swords built like hers from the stands. She didn't know any of them, so as always, she felt vaguely confused and uneasy. How did they always know her serial number...?
The crowd loved her because of the violence she brought with her. At first, the Arena staff had tried to keep her from standing out in the sands before her fights. It had only taken ten dead a show for them to realize she didn't want to charge her competition before they were ready or to showboat- she just liked being in the sunlight.
"And now, for her opponent, something special!" The disembodied voice boomed as the doors to her far, far left opens. Something big shuffled forward. "All they way from the Pendulum marsh, seized from it's cave- It's Mosstooth, the Troll Duke!"
The enormous Boulder-like monster stomped out of the gate; it's head nearly scraped the very top of the ceiling. It was all warty skin and muscle, rough wiry hair scraping from it's joints. It scratched underneath it's blanket-sized lion cloth before it burped and glowered at her.
She took a final hard drag on the cigarette before dropping it and lowering herself, popping up and tearing her blade out of the ground. "Designation; Vee dash zero dash tee dash five dash seven dash-"
"As usual, our little bloody cherub is introducing herself!" The voice boomed over hers, as she continued to list off her serial number. The Troll took a lumbering step towards her, confused and growing angry at the lack of violence. She could commiserate, but her programming made her do things a certain way. "-dash eight. Target accepted."
Her aura erupted around them; a ten feet space around her, and then her crackling willpower in a ring around that. She bounced on her heel and flourished her sword in a circle.
"Eliminate tar--target." She said, in her cracked and dry voice.
She moved when the troll did, a full on leap that turned into a roll on the ground. Her sword was still upright, and she made sure to grip it tight. Things had been easier when it was chained to her... As she came up, she slashed the surprised troll as a part of the movement. Her blade dug deep, and it roared before it swung back at her. The fist was the size of a wagon wheel, and it was only by once again springing and rolling that she avoided it. She came up in a crouch, her sword's hilt above her head, it's tip dragging in the sand.
Clouds of brown flew in her wake, as she spun herself with her remaining leg in a pirouette that moved her, her sword quickly striking the creature's leg as it turned seized her in it's grip. The troll roared in rage before it hurled back and threw her to the ground. She impacted hard before she wriggled and took a few steadying hops; the scars and wounds that weren't fully healed on her were bleeding now, hot and sizzling even in the arena's heat.
She was fast, and strong; if she'd been whole, she would have been unstoppable. As it was, actual movement and her attacks were crippled with only one leg. To compensate, her reactions were impeccable- when Mosstooth tried to punch her into the ground, she swung at the same time, and her blade ripped hard into it's knuckles. The troll jerked it's arm back, but she hung onto her wedged in blade.
Close up, she balanced on one foot before her shorn limb pointed outward, keeping her steady, and she began to throw strikes into the meat of her foe. With a whoosh, her aura caught fire al around them, the flames burning a dark, arterial red. With a quick two swings, she cut off one of it's arms; Her sword was on the ground, and her back was to her enemy in a crouch.
She lifted as hard as she could, driving with her heel and her back in a vicious rising strike; blood, guts, and innards spilled out of the Troll's stomach like change from a cut coin purse. Voth sprang at it with her sword in an underhand grip, her yellow eye narrowed with effort before the sword plunged into the Troll's own from beneath.
It fell into her aura and died messily, the flames spreading quickly and black smoke pooling over the sands like early night. In front of the corpse and unseen in the smoke, Voth was breathing hard. She used her sword like a tripod, inching her way forward until she could pull a cigarette out and light it off the corpse.
"Target eliminiminated." She stuttered to herself, thinking about porkchops.
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