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Write-up by: Luckers
The Contestants
Birgitte
Age: There is no beginning nor end to the turning of the Wheel of Time. [so you try and quantify that into a viable age bracket]
Race: Human
Weapon: the Bow, her fists.
Special: Millenia of Heroics
Elmindreda Farshaw
Age: Early to mid twenties.
Race: Human
Weapon: Knives
Special: Can see the future.
The Breakdown
Advantages
Birgitte: Millenia of experience as a fighter. Has a wooden leg for drinking. Has hips which don't lie.
Elmindreda: Can see the future. Taught to use Knives by Thom and Aiel. Has a spunky personality.
Disadvantages
Birgitte: Can be a triffle moody (not her fault).
Elmindreda: Has a really dumb name.
How we think the fight will go
Birgitte was three kinds of don’t-f##k-with-me drunk, and she had not forgotten that Min Farshaw had turned up in the Royal Palace with a man ugly enough to make her forget all about her Gaidal. The little trollop sat in a small clearing not far from where Elayne had placed her tent when she had arrived at Merrilor, playing cats cradle while she waited for al’Thor to finish his visit with Elayne. Visit? Birgitte snorted—by the ruckus in her head a whole lot more than simple visitation was occurring.
Idly, Birgitte drew an arrow, running her finger along the sharp edge. Drunk as a skunk or not she could still put an arrow through the girl’s throat at a hundred paces without trying. She grinned at the thought—that’d stop the rigmarole going on in Elayne’s tent. Stop it quick smart.
At that moment Min looked up and saw her standing there. She frowned, studying her—no, studying the air above her head. Something about that struck Birgitte’s memory, about people who could see the future around a person, but the specifics would not come—whether lost to the fading of her memory, or to the fortified wine she’d been drinking, she did not know.
Min rose, and in a casual saunter that made Birgitte want to hit her, wandered towards her. Birgitte watched her come, sourly, fingering the arrow. When the girl stood in front of her, she squatted. “Alright then Birgitte?”
“Fine.”
“You sure? Because from what I see, you have some pretty insane intentions right now,” Birgitte scowled at her, sulkily, and the girl continued, “they’re wavering, which I have never really seen before, but they’re there.” Min glanced down at the nearly empty wine skin. “I thought you weren’t drinking while Elayne was pregnant.”
She hadn’t been. She wasn’t—except, she was drunk. Why had she started drinking? A particularly exuberant jolt of the bond reminded her. Well, why was this little chit judging her anyway?
“I think you should sleep it off, and then we can talk in the morning.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she told the girl, or rather, tried to. It came out more ‘doan telme whata do.’
“Come on Birgitte, I’ll help you to your tent.”
Min grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet, where she swayed. The indignity of it all was bringing the rage to a fierce boil—which coincided with what was going on in her head, but she didn’t want to think about that. The girl was murmuring soothingly, which did not help. Idiot child! Did she think she was special because she wore pants? Birgitte had been wearing pants for millennia!
Sliding her booted heel in behind Min’s ankle, she used a particularly dirty throw she’d learned growing up on the streets of Senje, and the girl actually squawked as she went down, and wasn’t that gratifying! Gaidal had always said she had no humour, but she thought she was rather funny, thank you very much.
It would have ended there had Farshaw the sense to stay down, but instead the girl twisted, and kicked Birgitte solidly in the midriff. Birgitte staggered back trying desperately not to be sick, and then grunted as Min sailed out of nowhere to tackle her, and then they were rolling in the dirt, elbows and fists flying wild, and suddenly Birgitte was having the time of her life. How long had it been since she had been in a good drunken brawl? A long time certainly—prissy mcqueenypants would never approve!
Somehow the girl managed to score a good right hook across her face, but then Birgitte slugged her hard in the short ribs, followed by a head butt to the face. She’d used just that combination on Gaidal once, during a street fight in Shiota, and he hadn’t liked it any more than Min. Twisting them both, Birgitte ended up on top of the girl, holding one of her hands flat to the ground. In the girls other hand, however, a knife had appeared.
“Birgitte, enough!” Min said sharply.
Birgitte grinned, and using her other hand caught the girls wrist and squeezed just so, and the knife twisted and…
“Oh…” Birgitte and Min said at precisely the same time, but in very different tones. Suddenly the cacophony in Birgitte’s head stopped, and at the same time all the pent up frustration—that she now realised the bond had been enhancing—disappeared, leaving Birgitte a more normal drunk.
“Oh Min,” she said, trying to stop the flow of blood that was seeping out around the knife that now stuck out of the girl’s chest. “Hang on, I’ll get an Aes Sedai—”
“No,” the girl wheezed, blood on her lips. “Too late. I see it… always right.”
“It’s not too late, we can—”
“Too late,” the girl repeated, the light beginning to fade from her dark eyes. “Too late, but listen, I have to tell you… to tell you about Gaidal…”
Birgitte froze, “Tell me what about Gaidal?”
“He…”
“He what? Min? Do you know where Gaidal is?”
“He is…”
“Where is he, Min? Who is he?”
“He… is not Olver….”
The light went from Min’s eyes, and nearby she could hear al’Thor screaming, but she could not bring herself to care. Gaidal was not Olver.
“Fat bloody good seer you are,” she muttered, getting up. “Thanks for nothing, Captain Obvious.”
Predicted Winner: Birgitte
You have until Saturday, January 28th at 9:00 p.m. PST to vote.
). When the Maidens decided to give Rand a beating in ACoS, they batted her aside like a fly. Aviendha also seemed to think she could take out Min before she even finished whirling her knives.
