*Huff Huff*
Harphian's sizeable bust rose and fell with each of the deep and heavy breaths she drew. Her snout twitched. A putrid odor filled the air and filled her lungs; the smell of carnage, a mix of blood, smoke, ash, and sweat. Her eyes flickered. Bodies lay strewn across the circus floor, still and lifeless, and yet even more shuffled across the blood-stained land, locked in the battle for survival. The ring of flames lay overturned, its flames licking at the tent flaps. Her ears perked. Her own heart beat thunderously, muffling the agonizing screams around her, of former companions driven to desperation, now trading injuries as they fought. From what her senses could gather, the circus troupe had fallen to the back foot. For all their capabilities, they were as they were —a circus troupe. How could they compare to these mercenaries and traders who lived by the blade?
"You're a feisty little bitch aren't you?"
A gruff voice caught the Seal-mink's attention, crass words stoking the flames of anger that already smoldered in her chest. She refocused her senses, training them upon the bulky man that strode in front of her. He drew a fine cutlass from the sheath at his waist, the weapon forged from steel, clearly a cut about the machetes and sabers of the other slavers. Where their blades were dull and lined with rust, his shone with a sharp polish.
"Didn't think you'd last thing long, must be that mink blood. You'll fetch a high price, tsk, too bad those idiots scratched your face..."
When Harphina had remained silent, the man had taken it as some cue to continue his monologue. His eyes scanned her body, sizing her up as if she were a slab of Grade-A meat. Her skin crawled with disgust. If she'd been another kind of mink, her hair would've stood on end. As fate would have it, seals didn't possess the necessary muscles that would erect hair follicles. This was rather fortunate for her, as her unruffled appearance, when combined with her icy silence, allowed her to appear more confident than she actually was. She returned an unyielding stare, taking note when the man looked to the ground around her, where three of his subordinated lay sprawled. His face darkened an ugly scowl on his lips. As the man leveled his cutlass in her direction, he appraised her seriously for the first time, not as merchandise, but as a fighter...as a threat.
"What's your name?"
Harphina sneered, gleefully drinking in the man's distress over his fallen subordinates. Her tongue peeked through her lips, circling her lips. The sweet tang of iron enticed her taste buds. It was blood. Her own blood. A dodge that'd been a few centimeters short, the resulting laceration on her face overflowing with crimson nectar. The taste of blood excited her, reignited those primal predatory urges contained within her bloodline. She turned her nose up at the man's question, pinning him with a look of disdain.
"What's it to you? Stop your blathering! Does a walking corpse need to run its mouth so much?"
The man snarled, thrusting forward with his cutlass. "Hope you're just as feisty in bed!"
As Harphina leaned to the side, she raised her hula-hoop to defend. As the weapons collided, she released a surge of electro. Arcs of energy danced across her fur, surging across her fur and into the metal. A split second later, it had transferred to the man's cutlass running down its blade, a high-way right into his body. Sneak attacks like this one are what had allowed her to so 'easily' defeat her previous three opponents. They'd been caught unprepared and had been swiftly overwhelmed once they'd been zapped. A confident smirk grew on the girl's lips, a smirk that froze as the electro rushed down the man's sword and was halted by his gloves. He returned her smirk, clearly, he was a bit experienced in hunting minks, his gloves protected him from their electro-based attacks.
Reacting quickly, Harphina twirled her Hula-hoops, swinging them around her body as she slipped into a perky dance. The man retreated a few steps. His earlier encounter with her hula-hoops had clued him in as to their deceptive weights. He most certainly didn't want to take a hoop to the hip, even if he didn't break a bone, the injury would be enough to tip the scales of the fight. However, as he stepped back the mink vaulted forward, one of her smaller hoops going air-borne. In the blink of an eye, she'd vaulted into a hand-stand, catching the hoop with her leg as she swung it at the man's head. He deflected with the flat of his blade, just in time to deal with the second small hoop which she'd thrown at him like a chakram.
Endless attacks had been strung together with dance and acrobatics, the seal-mink ever in motion and fueled by seemingly inexhaustible energy. Harphina knew herself well, no normal human could compare with the ridiculous reserves fo stamina she possessed. Even if she couldn't defeat him through her shocks, she could perhaps outlast him. However, even if she could outlast him, the same couldn't be said about other members of the troupe. She would've won the battle, and yet lost the war.
