The towering noblewoman calling herself “Ognisha,” struts towards the small, lithe Miranda. The half-orc stumbles to her feet, her eyes wide. “Fuckin’ hell, woman!” Miranda shouts. “Y-you can’t just kill me!”
“Certainly, I can,” Ognisha responds. “I may be the descendant of proud orcish warriors, but I’m also a noblewoman of this city of sin. Your disappearance means nothing to the authorities already, and they won’t miss you afterward.” She says this, throwing a punch at Miranda.
Ready this time, the half-orc dodges to the side, grabbing the woman by the arm, using her momentum to throw her towards the sparkling floor.
Ognisha squeals and falls to her stomach, pushing herself up. “Please, girl, is that all you got?
“I’m not some warrior, ya looney! I’m just a street urchin!”
“Urchins,” Ognisha says, “are children. You are a woman!” She spins around, sweeping the girl with a kick to her legs, knocking her down to the ground flat on her back.
The olderwoman hops on top of the half-orc. Ognish’a muscled frame results from training in some private gym rather than at the school of hard knocks.
And speaking of those knocks.
One punch, followed by another, all going to Miranda’s face, knocking her back and forth, spit flying, starting clear and then turning red.
While the sounds of grunts, smacks, and laughs fill the hall of the grand estate, the doors open, and in steps the manor’s butler, bowing before the woman. “My lady,” he hisses. “Lord Aldevan is here to see you.”
She pouts, pushing herself up from the half-orc on the ground. “Oh, poo. And I was hoping that I’d spend less time talking and more time fighting. See that she’s cleaned, would you? And tell the lord I shall be down shortly.”
Miranda blinks through swollen bleary eyes, her ears twitching, her lips quivering. “W… what the… the fuck….”
“Oh, such language, dear. If you’re going to curse, do it in your mother tongue.”
“Fuck my mother!” Miranda says, and she leaps upon the woman from behind, wrapping her legs around Ognisha’s back and digging her fingers at her cheeks. She snarls, clawing at her made-up skin.
Ognisha howls, reaching behind her to try and pull the younger half-orc off of her, but Miranda does not let go. Instead, she opens her jaws wide and finds purchase at the woman’s shoulder, puncturing her flesh, digging deep, tasting blood.
“You foul, wretched thing!” Ognisha screeches, thrashing about, causing the gashes at her body to go deeper. “Unhand me at once! This is not what I desired!”
“Fuck what you want!” Miranda roars. She punches the woman in the temple twice, three times.
The aristocrat falls to her side, grabbing at her head, groaning. Miranda hops to her feet. “You said you were gonna kill me, ya cow! Well, you want orcish figthin’? You got orcish fightin’! She pulls her foot back, her boot colliding against the woman’s spine. “Fuck off, ya rich, fat, pretentious arse!”
The noble lady rolls onto Miranda’s shin, snarling. With renewed bloodlust, She yanks the girl back.
Miranda’s head hits the floor, making her see stars, but only for long enough to see the woman fall down with her elbow pointed right at her.
Miranda rolls out of the way, the woman’s elbow hitting the ground with a crack. The half-orc stands, checking the back of her head. No blood. Her heart, though… it’s beating faster than it ever has before. She clenches her fist and unclenches it, her vision blurring.
Ognisha stands up, rubbing her elbow, narrowing her gaze. “You’re starting to feel it, aren’t you?” She asks.
Miranda roars, her full-throated scream penetrating through the room. She tackles the woman, punching her in the stomach and the tits, making her stumble back and crash against a display case. Glass and wood shatter around them, smashing onto the floor.
Ognisha groans, lying among the ruins of her riches. She gropes and grabs a splintered portion of the cabinet and swings, striking Miranda across the jaw. “That’s right! Fight me as if to kill me!” she says “that’s the only way orcs know how to be alive! I tire of this cushioned life in Anteronia.” She says, pushing herslef up with the help of the makeshift club. “Once I kill you, I’m moving to my ancestral homeland. I will eke out an existence of struggle away from the pretentiousness of these… people! I didn’t ask to be born a weak human woman!”
Miranda spits out blood, stumbling up to her feet. “I didn’t ask some loony to beat me up, but no… I didn’t ask to be born a mutt like I am!”
“We have no identity,” Ognisha says. “If you triumph today, you will inherit all I have and face no repercussions. I’ve seen to it.”
“Fuckin’ hell…” Miranda says. “You are insane. Fine. If it shuts yer trap, I’ll kick yer ass, Ognisha!”
“Miranda!”
The two rush at each other, the more giant woman throwing a punch, and hitting the other in the cheek. While the older woman had training on her side, the resilience of youth allows Miranda to follow up again, striking her jaw with an uppercut.
It’s Miranda’s turn to climb atop of her opponent. It is her turn to relish in the feeling of her face against her fist, her hand staining red with blood like the woman’s were only a few moments ago.
And with each strike, Miranda disappears more and more, even as the woman beneath her laughs.
The rich… they’re all ridiculous. Every last one of them.