Sensory Overload: Sensory Overload

There’s too much wind, too much heat. It roars and whips around, burning every inch of this place with a monstrous ferocity. It’s all Tib can focus on, and yet he can’t feel anything at the same time in this sensory nightmare. 

 

Faint, muffled whistling prods at the edges of his static-filled mind.

 

He can’t help but wonder how exactly he got here, who these people are. Words had most assuredly been exchanged, the memory of hearing them exists, but…

 

The whistling turns to a sharp trill. What is that? That’s annoying, it can’t be the wind.

 

His senses return all at once with the crushing force of an iron ball to his gut. Oh. That’s exactly what that was, huh.

 

Once, twice, three times he skips across the heated ground like a stone across water. Laying there for a moment, groaning and letting the pain settle into what’s likely broken bones. There’s no time to assess the finer details of the damage, she’s coming and he has to get up. His muscles have chosen to be stubborn and in a flash the half-orc has sped into his field of vision.

 

Would now be a bad time to ask what her name was? A silly thought, of course, she didn’t look like she was in a talking mood with her pursed lips and eyes narrowed with burning determination. Yeah, she looks busy.

 

Wait, what is she…?

 

The ground is generously pulled away from him, giving a relief from the stone searing his back as well as a far more worrying surprise; a single fist buried in the fur of his chest. His eyes widen, he’s lifted higher in an effortless show of strength. This has to stop. Immediately.

 

He had to tell her this was bad, that this will leave her with consequences she surely isn’t aware of. Finding both his voice and command of his muscles again, he twists and curls his body, ignoring the protesting creak and sharp pain dominating his ribs.

 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” 

 

Not what he wanted to say but that’s good enough, probably.

 

The half-orc’s lips curled back in a soundless snarl, unimpressed with this threat. Alright, that was clearly the opposite of ‘good enough’. Try something different, then.

 

That familiar feeling of thousands of stinging needlepoints spread across his skin, quickly evolving into a burning and tearing. Tib’s vision waivers for only a moment when the first sharp points of burning glass meet the open air. He sees his adversary’s gaze flick to her fist as the growing glass cuts into her. Can she smell it already, the burning of her flesh?

 

Her grip loosens but not entirely. A swift kick to her throat sends her stumbling back, and himself, reuniting with the ground. The next moment he’s firing every shard of glass he had halfway summoned out of his body, then more to litter the terrain, starting up a green blaze almost immediately after.

 

The next shards would be far larger and aimed directly at the half-orc, but it was an attack that would never land. She was gone before anything even fired. He ground his teeth in a little growl before whipping his head in all directions to locate her.

 

That striking red cloak gave her away. The loose fabric whipping around in the air as she flew above the dangers of the ground. Well that’s fantastic, she can fly, that’s sure not going to cause problems at all. He watched her carefully as she swayed unsteady above him. Her dark hair had lost its tie and now looked more like a wild animal’s mane while the winds battered at her. Every so often he’d catch glimpses of those bright, burning eyes through the black locks.

 

There’s that whistling again, that obnoxious whistling. This time he was ready for it, and as it screamed toward him he sprang to the side. Burning shards immediately dig into his paws, but that was fine, he was used to walking over his own shrapnel. That awful musical sphere, however, was different.

 

Pivoting back around he fired a quick burst of glass toward his airborne adversary. The winds simply sent them flying laughably off-course, a detail the half-orc took notice of as a smirk adorned her face. 

 

Shit.

 

A moment of lost focus was all it took, he stopped paying attention to the deadly wiffle ball to gawk at his failed attack. The sphere smashed into his back with a loud crunch. His face met the stone ground an instant later, he couldn’t tell if it was him or that infernal ball screaming.

 

For someone who seemed to be struggling not to be blown away, she sure was good at aiming that thing! If only that toy would stop existing. In a screaming effort, he heaves himself back up and stands shaky and unsteadily. There’s a wetness rolling down his back and dripping to the ground below, painting it in a green sludge. 

 

Tib sucks in a sharp breath and grits his teeth, pushing his broken body to continue moving, disjointed and clumsy as it now is. He raises his arms out and fires shards generously and rapidly. Countless large panels embed into the ground and stone structures. He continues this while awkwardly evading the half-orc’s enchanted weapon.

 

Evasion and attack turns into a dance as he makes his way around the battlefield. Even the airborne half-orc moves along, whether intentionally or not from the relentless winds.

 

She’s forced to lower herself whenever he ducks behind structures, and finally she’s in a perfect position. With her back to one of the panels, there’s only a short window of time.

 

He raises a palm toward her. Nothing has managed to get near her, so she has no reason to move. Perfect.

 

A manic, toothy grin creeps across Tib’s face as he curls his fingers into a fist. For a moment there’s nothing, then a creak. The half-orc’s eyes flick to the side only momentarily, suspicious but not wanting to fully take her eyes off Tib. She really should have looked.

 

The glass shattered in a thunderous boom, the sudden piercing ring overpowering the roaring winds. Burning shrapnel launches in all directions, including toward both himself and the half-orc. If she made a sound when a large shard embedded itself deep into her shoulder, it was lost in the cacophony.

 

Despite this, her weapon had been sent once again screaming toward Tib. He scrambled to evade it, and only barely managed. The thing slammed hard into one of the stone structures, absolutely smashing it to bits and causing it to collapse down, something that he couldn’t escape. 

 

While his tails were completely pinned under the rubble, at least the weapon got buried. Taking a glance up toward the half-orc, she seems to be struggling to pull the burning shard out of her shoulder.

 

Knowing this may be his only chance to turn things around, he tore a shard out of his body in one paw, and held his mouth with the other. Working quickly, he aggressively cut at his tails. The moment both severed he hopped toward the nearest structure, a ruined building.

 

Once inside he scattered more glass. It didn’t take long for the terrifying lady to show up, one arm hanging limp and smeared in bright red, and the hand on her other covered in blistering burns.

 

He springs off a panel to avoid a burst of her wind magic and lands in the doorway with a stumble, but steadies quickly enough. The structure groans and panels creak as he spreads his arms wide.

 

“Surrender or I’ll kill you where we stand.”