ROYAL RUMBLE.

The snow had finally settled, and for Mibbet, there could be no worse news; it meant she was due at her match, which would make her not just miserable but cold and miserable. Because the next match lined up would be Gidea herself, which meant the trademark Von Harmsworth strength, the Von Harmsworth temper, and a disproportionate amount of the Von Harmsworth skill all rolled up in one neat little bundle, considerately gift-wrapped in a pair of brass knuckles, some weighted boots, a holy sword, and a whole mess of pain as you’ll see.

As she stepped into the arena today, the crowd were going wild (then again, an arena crowd were always enthusiastic so long as a disproportionate amount of violence was on offer, and this match was bound to show that, and as an added bonus, it was a real royal rumble.)

They waited patiently while the announcer howled their names, and Mibbet braced herself for the match to begin. This, this was going to hurt. Finally, once the mob stopped baying like a pack of pups when somebody looked at their front doors in a couriers uniform, the match started with a piercing whistle.

Mibbet instinctively raised Choppy to a block position and braced for impact, while Gidea got rather blurry around the edges as even Mibbet’s amazing kinetic vision failed to process just what exactly happened. Suddenly there was a lot more to process as Gidea’s buckler bash smashed into choppy with enough force to send her flying backwards wallwards. Mibbet’s froggy instincts helped here as while Rosalind suggested a leap direction, the froglike urge to not get splatted made them tumble enough to get their legs under them and launch them clear of the follow-up strike. Which judging from the brass knuckle shaped holes in the wall a fraction of a second later, was probably just as well (though Mibbet now felt like her legs were now made of some kind of non-Newtonian rubberlike stuff because they sure as hell didn’t feel like they were made of nice cooperative flesh at that moment.

“Nice escape, hope you’re proud of that one”, growled Gidea.

“frarlal mops”, Mibbet quipped back (the concussion may have put a damper on the wittiness of her response if it hadn’t, the sheer pants-wetting terror definitely did, though Mibbet was proud of herself for standing up for them... well or standing at all really, especially given that it currently appeared to be six Gideas against one her.)

Mibbet and Rosalind worked together to regain at least limited control of some of their faculties before Gidea could take another go. But they were too late, as she blurred again. Choppy raised just in time as what felt like a runaway wagon nobody got the license plate of carrying a tonne of bricks slammed into them with a massive CLANG.

Unfortunately, it seemed the universe, and Choppy agreed that of all the ideas in all the universe, none was denser than voluntarily participating in this match resulting in no weight from Choppy to help out, sending them flying backwards once again, faster than before, after an impact that left their gripping hands stinging. Another dive clear on impact bought them a few seconds of reprieve before the onslaught resumed. But Mibbet refused to be responsible for blowing up the multiverse because she simply gave up, and she started to fight back. (Sure, she was missing every swing by what seemed like bloody miles, but she was fighting hop damnit, and she would go down that way if she had to. Rosalind, meanwhile, was a bit too far gone in the fury for coherence as the next hit struck them.)

This time Rosalind managed to grab Gideas wrist, slowing the strike a teeny tiny bit, but it was like a toddler trying to block a rampaging rhino by kicking it in the shins, and so the duo went flying backwards again.

“You’ve seen nothing like this before folks, two minutes in and The Princess is still standing, this is an unbelievable sight, three wall slams and she’s still in the fight, two whole minutes against the berserker Queen,” howled the announcer, while Mibbet dove clear yet again, only to be met by the second strike her flying backwards.

This time at least, she was ready enough to launch herself directly at her opponent on the rebound, which Gidea was not expecting, but managed to swat away at the last moment. This time it took Mibbet longer to get her legs up, so with a sympathetic wince from the audience, the wall lent a hand in the most painful manner possible as Choppy slipped from her hand.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Gidea roared, “is that it?”

Mibbet got painfully to her feet and gingerly picked up Choppy once again while the crowd roared in approval (hey, what can I say, baying mobs like violence enough to get a little excitable about it, who knew?) Gradually pulling herself into the guard position once more. Just to take another hit. Now, something in the air had changed; rather than cheering the inevitable beatdown of a royal brat, they were backing up a plucky Princess who kept fighting.

Of course, Mibbet and Rosalind were somewhat distracted by trying to bleed off the impact of another strike to really notice such small details personally, as yet again, a helpful wall assisted their deceleration. But it took less time for them to get up this time, despite their injuries. Oh, and they didn’t lose Choppy this time round. Mibbet braced for another strike, one that never came, as the crowd started chanting Rosalind’s name over and over.

Gidea looked at them again, and Mibbet braced herself, but this time there was no blur, as Gidea walked over, and to Mibbet’s surprise, pulled them into a hug (not a sensation you’d wish for after the last few minutes, but it beat a beating.)

“OK, kid, you kept on fighting, you’re OK in my book,” Gidea said, as the world swam around Mibbet, who had to admit being hugged into unconsciousness was a new one.