Vanneth the Barbarian vs Eleanor, the Artist.

"Let me talk to her." Zoraida said, looking sternly at the guard.  "Ma'am, she's a barbarian, we can't let civilians--"  Makurro had taken a grip on the guard's fingers, and was bending them dangerously out of place.  "Now, Whisper, there's no need for that,  I'm sure this guard will come to an arrangement with us."  Zoraida produced a shiny gold coin, and in the guise of comforting the guard's hurt fingers, placed it in her hand.  The guard stared suspiciously at the Ebon Whisper for a moment, then looked back at Zoraida.  "Go ahead Ma'am, but take her in with you...you might need her."

Zoraida made her way down the hall to the holding area where the blonde barbarian was swinging her clubs about.  "Impressive display.  Very impressive.  But this won't be like any other fight you've had.  Your opponent, she won't look like much...because she'll be using magic on you.  She will be inside your very mind. I can tell you how to rob her of much of her magic...but there's a small favor I'd like from you in exchange.  It won't cost you anything, it's something I want you to do after you beat her.  And if you use the information I give you, you WILL beat her.  Trust me; I'm fully aware of her capabilities."

"Vanneth needs no help." The Barbarian said confidently, lowering her weapons. "But if Vanneth's eniemes will use the weak tricks of magic, Vanneth would hear how to throw their pathetic tricks back in their faces."

Vanneth studied the two women. Zorinda had the obvious bearing of either an aristocrat or a mage. Either one would simply be a target in Vanneth's lands. The other one, Makurro, was an obvious skilled fighter. Vanneth thought there would be no harm in listening to them. After all, it was just words, not real threats like swords or arrows. Also she was a stranger in these lands, and knew she was totally unprepared for this strange arena she'd been thrust into. And so she listened, and measured the pair.

"Thank you for listening. What I need from you is very simple. The rules of this arena allow you to do almost whatever you like to a defeated opponent. When you defeat this one, the choice is entirely yours, but I ask this one thing of you first. My people will provide a bucket of paint. Please, when you defeat her, dump this bucket over her head, and when she has the bucket off her head and can hear you, tell her, 'The Queen sends her regards.' Can you do this?"

Vanneth nodded.

"That's all I need from you. I'll now tell you how to disable most of her magic. I would recommend doing this once you remove her dress, but if her magic is overwhelming you, you may need to do it sooner. In her hand, she carries a brush, a painter's tool. It greatly enhances her magic abilities. While holding it, she can make you see things she wants you to see, but those things aren't real. She also hides herself behind her magic. You are strong, adn fast, as I have seen, taking this brush away from her should be an easy thing for you. Once you do so, your victory should be assured. If you want to utterly defeat her, remove her dress first, so the audience can see how much her magic hides. But please, remember to throw the paint on ehr head and say, 'The Queen sends her regards.' She'll know what it means. We now leave you to your glorious victory, noble warrior. Your success is assured." Makurro, silent the entire time, simply gave Vanneth a nod of respect that, without words, said, "I see that you, like me, have spent much of your life honing your martial craft."

Zoraida waited to see if Vanneth had any questions before they turned to leave.

Vanneth waited until Zoradia left, then went back to her workout. Some little paint brush was the key to her enemy's power? Well, she wouldn't have thought of that! Maybe there was something to be gained in a relationship with this mysterious benefactor.


"Welcome to another lovely day in Enferia!" The announcer said. He was exaggerating, to say the least. It was dreary, cloudy day that might burst out into rain at any minute. Still, the stadium was nearly full. Everyone always excitedly came out for a match between two new fighters. It was jokingly referred to as watching them 'pop their cherry'. True, sometimes the fights were a joke, or completely uneven. But the Queen had a talent for forcing the fairest women in the land to fight, so they were always at the very least some eye candy revealed.

"Coming through the Western gate, from the Savage frozen plains, the Verile Vixen, Vanneth the Barbarian!"

The gate opened. Vanneth emerged to a stream of applause. She actually looked quite overwhelmed. After all, she'd never seen this many people gathered in one place before! She had right to be startled. But, her eyes set on the opposite gate. First and foremost she was a fighter, prepared for combat! She snarled, raising her clubs as the other gate lifted...

"And up against her, supposedly a master spy, Eleanor the Painter!  She really doesn't look like a master spy, does she.  But what better cover than a portrait painter for being invited into the circles of the powerful? Anyway, I'm informed that she was found with some very sensitive documents on her person.  A barbarian versus a painter....this is going to be a slaughter folks!"

Eleanor made her way into the arena and listened to the announcer telling her story.  She had been framed, and she had a hunch who might be behind it.  Luckily, she was not as defenseless as Aloysius implied.  But then her eyes settled on her opponent.  She was terrifying, with those twin cudgels, moving such unwieldy weapons with the speed she had.  She couldn't allow her to close distance.  Eleanor immediately clutched her brush, and went for an illusion that she hoped might calm her opponent.  

((Int 10 + roll 7=17.  If she wins the roll, Vanneth will thing she's in a place she wants to be in, and not see any of the people around her.  If she wins by 2, she thinks she's there with the person she most wants to see.  There's lots of leeway here.  I'll reroll every round to keep the illusion, because asking Vanneth to hit 17 is unfair.  Or we can just play it out, without dice.))

(Perception 6 +roll 2)

Suddenly Vanneth found herself in her snow covered homeland. She was standing near a hotspring, the water looking warm and inviting. In the pool lounged Lar.

Lar was the leader of her tribe, and the only man in the tribe who could best Vanneth. Vanneth had a long running crush on Lar. But, since her fighting prowess had a habit of intimidating men, she had little experience with relationships and was quite shy. She found her heart fluttering and a glow coming to her cheeks just by being near him.

"Vanneth! I've been waiting for you." Lars said, seeing her.

"Y... you have?" Vanneth asked, surprised.

"Of course! Come join me in the spring!"

Vanneth shyly started towards the water.

"Vanneth, wait a sec." Lar said, laughing gently. "You can't come in the spring with your furs on."

It was true. Besides, it sounded like Lar wanted to see her undress! So, with a nervous yet thrilled smile, she set down her clubs and slipped off her leg furs, her moccasins sliding off with them


"Well, this is surprising!" The announcer said, utterly baffled. To everyone's shock the hands on favorite, the barbarian, had just set down her clothes and removed her own leg wear!

Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked....now all the had to do was concentrate to maintain the illusion. Zoraida, up in the stands, cursed when she saw Eleanor succeeding. After all, she was the one who commanded the Ebon Wishiper to steal those sensitive Enferian documetns and reverse-pickpocket them onto Eleanor. She had then sent Hilevi to pay a passing vagabond to report Eleanor, telling him that there was usually a reward for catching spies. He went off happily with his ten copper pieces, and was probably halfway to another city by now.

For her part, Eleanor had come to Enferia to leave Nysia behind. She couldn't stand the place anymore. But none of that was on her mind now. She was concentrating on the illusion. Once she had subjected a person to seeing what they wanted to see, it was easy to maintain. The victim's own will prevented them from noticing imperfections in a narrative they wanted so badly to believe, a false world drawn from their own minds. This should have been simple. But Eleanor felt a sharp pain on her backside. It was if a bee was stinging her right cheek. She couldn't stop to look or put a hand on it, or the illusion would be broken, she'd have to suffer through it, and keep concentrating. It was getting difficult.

Up in the stands, Zoraida was jamming a needle into the backside of a small doll, with a tiny braid of purple hair tied into the purple yarn on its head. She looked to Makurro and grinned. The spy grinned back, knowingly.

((Roll to keep Illusion: 9 Char + roll 3=12))

(Perception 6 + roll 10= 16)

Vanneth was about to remove her arm warmers, and the rest of her clothing, when suddenly the illusion fizzled. She was back in the arena. She had been tricked!

"Cursed magic!" She growled drawing her knife. She'd only lost her leg wear, but still she resented being tricked. She ran up, bare strong legs pumping, bare feet on coarse sand. She charged, intending to hit the paintbrush out of Eleanor's hand, and possibly rip at her fancy dress while she was at it!

(Dexterity 9 + roll 7= 16 to hit!)

((Dex 4 + roll 6=10  + a little plot armor, you'll see why))

Eleanor finally had to put her hand on her backside...what was causing that pain?  Twisiting her torso and craning her neck to look toward her own backside, she didn't see that her illusion was no longer captivating her opponent.  Vanneth charged.

She hit Eleanor like a ton of bricks, throwing her back into the sand.  Eleanor was shocked, especially when she saw her dress dangling from a spine on her opponent's club.

"Yes!" yelled Zoraida from her box in the stands.  She looked elated.

Thankfully, she had managed to retain her grip on her brush.  That was important, especially as she was reduced to her rather revealing pink panties, grey thigh-high stockings, and black-and-white flowered bra.  Her body seemed plump and full, with a fairly large backside, but somewhat modest breasts for her size.   Crawling on all fours away from the barbarian as best she could, she waved her brush and tried to disguise her location as she got as far away from this barbarian as possible.
((Char 9 + roll 8 to get well out of melee range until her next move.  Is Lilith going to bet on this one, or wait for the battle royale and favor Zoraida?))

(I didn't want to have Lillith in two active matches at once, just confusing.)
(Perception 6 + roll 9= 15)
To Vanneth's surprise her enemy seemed to vanish. More trickery! She thought, swinging around. She tried to listen with her hunter's senses, or catch a scent. But the arena was too active, too crazy. She couldn't find her!

Growling angrily, Vanneth raised her clubs. She wanted to fight, but how could she fight what she couldn't see? She then decided to preform a routine, swinging her clubs in wide graceful arcs, lunging forward with measured steps. This was not generally practical combat moves, just warm ups. But, it was the best way to cover a large area with her clubs, striking out at the potential location of her unseen foe.

(Strength 9 + roll 10= 19 to hit!)

Vanneth strangely found the area Eleanor had retreated to. Eleanor tried to dodge when she saw the club coming right for her, but she was too slow. She let out a little shriek as the club hit her soft midsection. Blinking back into sight, she turned to run, but Vanneth already had a hand on the black-and-white top.

"It looks like our painter is overmatched." Aloysius said, "She'll need more of that magic she tried at the beginning, but she's too easy to hit, apparently!"

"What's that, on you there?" she said desparately, pointing to Vanneth's midsection.

((Int 10+ roll 4 to make her think her body wrap is whatever creature she most fears, and feel free to pull the bra off in the process, if you like.))

(Intelligence 5 + roll 8= 13)

Vanneth looked down. To her utter horror her dress had transformed! Instead of the normal fur wrap she wore she now had a Luat attached to her!

A Luat is a horrible creature from Vanneth's homeland. A giant insect, they had always revolted and disgusted Vanneth, who listed bugs among her worst fears. It was a two foot ant, about the size of a small dog, that were immensely dangerous, with claw like mandibles. They could crush a person's skull!

With a shocked shriek Vanneth released her enemy to yank the Luat from her, tossing it aside violently. IN the same motion she double hand grasped her club and slammed it down repeatedly, crushing the Luat.

In reality, all that had been on Vanneth was her regular fur clothing. She'd ripped it from her body, along with her breast wrap, and thrown it aside while the crowd watched in amazement. She then proceeded to beat her clothes with a club, thus looking totally absurd. Her small B cup breasts swung wildly, firm arms flexing as she bashed wildly.

Finally she stopped to catch her breath. Then, to her utter confusion the Luat transformed into a pile of fur. Her furs! But that would mean...

Realization dawning Vanneth looked down. She was greeted by her own breast. swaying freely. She was topless! Screaming she covered her chest with an arm. She'd been just been seen topless by the largest crowd she'd ever seen. Flushing she swung around at Eleanor.

"YOU!" She growled. Still cupping her chest she swung her club at Eleanor wildly.

(Strength 9 + roll 7= 16)

((Dex 4+ roll 4 = ouch))
Eleanor was trying to flee, but the club caught her. Vanneth had been so angry, she hadn't aimed well, but the swat that hit the artist's backside was enough to send her sprawling. That same uneven surface that had caught her dress now tore the band of the small panties. This revealed a red welt on one cheek from the blow, and a thick bush of dark pubes.

Those sitting in the same third or half of the arena spectator area where Zoraida was sitting heard a huge, "Yes! Get her!"

The artist was desperate. She had only a bra left, and shoes and socks, which she was told wouldn't count, if that's all she was left with. She had to act. But what did she have left. She held out the brush threatening and said, "Stay right there. Don't take another step. Or I'll...I'll hex you...I'll turn you into a snail...."

(Intelligence 5 +roll 6= 11. I was going to have Vanneth believe Eleanor if she botched the roll.)

"No more tricks!" Vanneth growled. She crouched over her enemy, look quite menacing for a woman in her panties with one hand glued to her chest. She swung her club, planning to knock the brush from her Eleanor's hand to prevent any more magic or illusions.

(Strength 9 + roll 2= 11. Looks like Eleanor might get a chance to stay in this!)

((Str 5 roll 8=13))
Eleanor's grip stayed firm, to her own surprise, but she was in a dangerous situation. The last thing she wanted was to lseo that brush, and that was only partially because she'd end up losing the match.

She had no time to thing about that, though. She was at close range. If her illusion didn't work this time, she'd be up the creek. She waved her brush and concentrated.

((Int 10+ roll 4 to bring Vanneth back to Lar, or at least where she was, let's say a -2 penalty because she's seen that illusion before.))

(Intelligence 5 + roll 7 = 12, tie to defender!)

Vanneth saw her vision distort. The sandy arena became a snowy valley. the woman cowering before her turned into Lar, once again lounging in the hotsprings.

"Vanneth, please join me in the water!" He said excitedly. While Vanneth was naive, she was no fool. She knew this wasn't real!

"NO MORE TRICKS!" She screeched, raising her club up. She swung down straight at Lar, who she knew was actually Eleanor...

(Strength 9 + roll 1= critical fail! Fate keeps giving Eleanor extra chances!)

"Aaaarrrrgh," Zoraida said, obviously disappointed at the turn things had taken.  At least the barbarian wasn't under Eleanor's spell.  "Under Eleanor's Spell..."  Her mind lingered on that notion for a minute, before focusing again on the action.

For once in her life, Eleanor was able to dodge a hit coming right at her....she would have liked to take a moment to congratulate herself, but a big, strong barbarian was right next to her swinging a club.

Her plan was to get far enough away to try again.  As she ran, she spoke back to Vanneth, "No more tricks, eh?  I'd love to oblige you, but I doubt you'd agree to fighting on MY terms.  Maybe we can just call this all a big mistake?  Have some tea together?  No?  Didn't think so."

((Roll to make either her arm furs or panties seem like something terrifying: Int 10 roll 5. Sorry for the delay. Hosue guests arrived too soon.))

(Intelligence 5 + roll 3=

Vanneth saw something strange. She looked to her arms and found her arm guards had transformed. They were now giant leeches clinging to her arms!

In a more rational moment she might have stopped to think. But, in the heat of battle, adrenaline flowing, coupled with a life long fear of bugs, she simple reacted. Squealing in a manner most unbecoming for a warrior she ripped her arm guards, or the leeches as she saw them off, tossing them away.

When they landed Vanneth saw that they were in fact simply fur arm guards. She'd been tricked again! Now she was down to just her panties! She could loose to a mere artist! She'd never live that down! Growling, she turned to Eleanor. She stopped covering her chest and swung mightily, cleaving with her club in a double handed swing.

(Strength 9 + roll 3 = 12 to hit, brush or bra.)

((Reverse of plot armor in effect))

Eleanor shrieked as the club came down.  She avoided its blunt force by dodging, but the weapon still grazed her skin, close enough to snag her bra strap with its follow-through.  Her large, natural breasts popped into view, now slightly lower thanks to loseing their support garment.  Her face turned nearly the color of her large, dark pink areolas as she used her empty hand in an attempt to shield her treasures from the viewing sphere.

"Aaaand that does it, ladies and gentlemen!  Vanneth is the winner.  I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see what this barbarian has in store for the poor little, well, not-so-little painter."

"Yes, indeed," Zoraida cooed from her seat, beaming from ear to ear.  Makurro hadn't seen her this happy in some time.  Scary as it was, she was glad to see her mistress pleased.  Being around a frustrated Zoraida was like tiptoeing through a lion's den.

Eleanor had been stripped.  She had only her boots, adn stickings which had long since disappeared into them. At least she had kept hold of her brush.  She really didn't want to lose that.  As a strong, confident woman, she knew she was beautiful no matter what, but she really didn't need to hear the crowd harassing her if they didn't agree, so she hid the brush behond her back and clung to it with all her might as she kicked off her boots and fell to her knees in front of Vanneth.  If she was lucky, the barbarian would simply forget about the brush, and she'd keep up a bit of her illusion.

"Now take the brush...." Zoraida whispered.  Makurro didn't know if she was just thinking out loud, or if her magics had some way to implant the thought in Vanneth's mind.  She hoped for the sake of all humanity that it was the former.   The part of Zoraida's magic that she was already familiar with was a powerful enough force to make her tremble.  The thought that she might have other, unknown powers, was sobering.

Vanneth was furious. Sure, she'd won. But she'd almost been defeated by the weak tricks of a mage! This was why she hated magic. What good was strength and skill against illusions?

"NO MORE TRICKS!" She yelled in her gruff accent. With that she grasped Eleanor's shoulder and wrenched her forward. She clawed at the brush, getting a grip on it. Eleanor fought back, but the barbarian was so much stronger then her it wasn't really a contest. Vanneth ripped the brush away, thowing it aside angrily.

In the struggle for the brush, Eleanor again rose to her feet to try to maintain control.  But it was a losing proposition.  She was too weak to keep it.  Spectators saw what seemed to be a light suddenly flicker around Eleanor, as she whined pathetically at losing her grip on the brush.  The viewing sphere zoomed in first on her face.  There was no change there except the flush of embarrassment.  As the sphere panned down her body, the audience noted that everything was somewhat fatter and saggier than the way Eleanor had looked during the match.  She tried to cover her breasts with her arms.

But as the audience viewed her torso, her fat wasn't the only change.  Around her navel was  a scatter of fine, dark hairs leading down to her bushy pubes.  They definitely seemed longer and bushier than before.  The viewfinder showed off her legs, covered in cellulite and unshaven.  Clearly, this illusionist had been depending on the powers of the brush instead of grooming habits.  Her makeup and hair remained pristine, but everything else was revealed to look different from the figure Vanneth and the audience had been looking at.

"Please...don't...look at me..." Eleanor whined, sounding as pathetic as anything Vanneth had ever heard.  A pair of guards entered the arena floor, one carrying a large bucket of green paint, which they put on the sand next to Eleanor.  The artist tried to beg them to save her, but they instead bushed her back to her knees in front of Vanneth, and walked away.

"Yes," Zoraida smiled, looking almost orgasmic at the Eleanor's humiliation, "Make that bitch pay for what she did to me...then do whatever your barbarian heart desires.....mmmmm."

Vanneth scoffed at the revelation. Even this woman's body was a lie!

"Is nothing about you wizard's real?" Vanneth scoffed. Eleanor looked hurt, offended and angry all at once. Vanneth just rolled her eyes. Then she pulled her knife. Obsidian, razor sharp. She flipped it backwards, pointing the handle towards Eleanor. Eleanor looked at her in confusion.

"You're furry, witch." She said. "You need a shave!"

Eleanor looked horrified. Then, seeing the Barbarian wasn't backing down, she looked down shamed. She extended the hand which had covered her bush and took the knife.

"Now shave." Vanneth commanded.

"Um, can I have some lather or something? This is gonna burn..." Eleanor knew the answer. Her head drooped rather than looked down, as she ran the blade over one of her shins. From the look of things, this process was going to take a while. Tears were forming in her eyes, more from the embarrassment and exposure than the rough sensation of shaving her leg. They pulled dark streaks of eyeliner down her cheeks as she whimpered to herself.

Makurro watched Zoraida enjoying this. "Not such a pretty picture, are we, Eleanor?" the queen said quietly to herself as one hand caressed her crotch through her thick gown. "You should have known better than to cross me. I always get my revenge, hahahaa." Zoraida stopped for a moment, a concerned look on her face. Turning to Makurro, she said, "Do you think she'll remember my message?"

Finally Eleanor was done shaving. Her skin was red and raw in streaks up her legs, arms, belly and crotch from the dry shave. OOh, that was going to smart tomorrow! She was bound to get a rash.

Vanneth snatched the knife away.

"Now, close your eyes." Vanneth commanded, raising the club menacingly. "And hands down."

Eleanor, lip trembling, make up running down her face, whimpered and closed her eyes out of fear of pain. Slowly she forced her trembling hands to her sides, revealing all to the crowd, who was of course roaring. The viewfinder corkscrewed around her, giving a 360 view of her plump, freshly shaved body.

Eleanor waited for a long, horrible moment. Then, to her utter horror she felt the bucket of paint dumped over her head!

She threw the bucket off, stumbling forward. She fell to her knees, coated from head to toe in thick green paint. She threw the bucket off her head, spitting and wiping paint from her face. She moaned in disgust at the gooey mess she now was.

"The Queen sends her regards." Vanneth quoted. She hadn't exactly entered a bargain with Zorinda, but the woman's advice had proven solid. No reason not to repay the favor. Then, retrieving her other club, and scooping up her furs she stomped away.