Here's to ChristmasThe Sun departs, the winds, they howl, this year does near its end,
A Pain in the Hand...Gus sighed to himself as he crashed upon his bed. It had been a long day; Invocation had lasted well into lunchtime, his Intermediate Alchemical Theory coursework was beginning to climb, and the stupid imps that called themselves Lucretia and Borgia had apparently declared outright war on him and had ambushed him repeatedly, always striking and hexing him where he couldn't see them. His clothes still stank of swamp-gas residue, his knees had developed a funny, disjointed walk that he hadn't quite gotten rid of yet, and his right hand felt like someone had introduced it to a branding iron. Every second, he felt it, throbbing painfully and incessantly, as though it was growing too big for its skin to contain. Every time he moved its fingers, they felt slower and clumsier, like they were overstuffed sausages. Furthermore, they had become maddeningly sensitive to physical contact; even the slightest touch made him wince. Just what he needed, he grumbled; a disability to his dextrous hand!
Down the HatchNova roared triumphantly as her leather clad fist pistoned into the stomach of her opponent, folding him like an empty sack of air. It had been ten minutes since the match had begun, and the lithe, nimble Jaquimot Josiah had evaded her blows, always dancing out of reach before she could close with him. But at last, she had caught him, ambushing him from a floating plinth above and had begun the process of pulverizing him. His light, minimal armour of leather and Varraxan Carapace allowed for flexibility, but it afforded him no protection against her titanic, muscular arms and the sharpened xyphoids mounted upon them.
Bait and Switch"This! Cannot! Do!"