Brazil
Province of Bahia
Early 1880s
Under the hot sun, yet cooled by the breeze and the sound of its passage through the trees, Oya walked the paths and stairs of a massive complex. Home to several small buildings and courtyards interconnected by stone paths and staircases, and home to beautiful trees and foliage, this place, a Terreiro, was sacred ground to many. Oya could feel it in her soul, the spiritual power resting within it from years of labor and love. She had only heard of it in passing from those who spoke of it in Valhalla, but once she knew it existed, she could not stay away. And so, she dressed herself in the garb of the times and made her way.
Here, in this seemingly unimpressive place, she could see people walking the grounds. Some were travelling from building to building. Others sat and prayed amongst the foliage, and a few, younger than the rest, were busy practicing a familiar dance under the watchful eyes of a few elders. The children stomped, stepped, and swayed as they waved small toy axes. Their movements were raw and uncoordinated, but she could see the vigor and effort. She could not help but smile as she watched on, picturing him dancing and instructing the children, likely at the elders' patience.
"Excuse me," A gruff, hoarse voice spoke behind her. She turned and saw an older, dark-skinned man in a worn green shirt with cropped brown pants and sandals. His gray hair was cut short, but his wild beard stuck out in all directions. "You can't watch them. They're preparing for an upcoming ceremony."
"Oh, I'm sorry," She whispered. "I didn't mean to, but it made me oddly…homesick."
"Glad to hear it." He smiled a little. "'Homesick' is a wonderful compliment for that dance, but it doesn't mean you can watch."
"I understand. I'll be on my way."
He raised his hand. "Before you go, there's something I need to know."
"You send me away, but stop me to ask a question?" Oya asked, smiling and raising an eyebrow.
"Your youth fails to hide wit and decorum, but I'm stuck on that word. 'Homesick.' Most people your age wouldn't even know it unless they grew up here. It's a special dance we perform to honor Xango."
So that's what they call him here. She thought.
"And I know everyone it's taught to and their families…and you are not from here."
"Ah. Hmm. I'm not."
"Alright then. So my question is…what does it remind you of?"
Her smile softened, and the older man saw a wistful look appear. "It reminds me…of simpler days. I had someone like him once."
"Like who?"
"Xango. He was my Xango. My passionate storm of lightning and fire. Life was never dull with him, but he was a lot at times." She closed her eyes, letting the breeze flow around her. "I lost him. I drove him away, and he passed before we reconciled."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Young love dying out so soon is just…"
"Thank you. I saw a future with him. Our childhood home could've been that for our children, but life changed in a way I wasn't ready for, and I am still not."
"Sounds like you need to pray to Iansã."
Oya blinked a few times.
"Ah. You must be Yoruba, and not Candomblé. She's Oya in Yoruba. I pray to her sometimes, especially during tumultuous times."
"Do you?"
"My mother and grandmother practiced her dance, and they told me to pray to her when I suffered great change and uncertainty. Their dance, I was told, was the same one passed from the Oyo empire, across the seas in those…ships, and to here. It was our tether. Sadly, I never could grasp it, so it seems my grip on that tether has weakened, but I remember the feeling of watching it."
"I know it."
He huffed. "Do you now?"
"I do. I…I disrespected something we both cherish. Just words aren't enough. If you'll allow me, as an apology, I'd like to perform it for you."
"If you can."
"If I can." Oya stepped a few meters away. She let the breeze flow around her and followed it. From her feet all the way back through her fingers and hair, she felt its rhythm carry her. Like it carried her before his departure, and like it carried her after. Her body glided along the breeze, spinning and stepping as her arms swam through the air. The older man sat, slightly amused by her bravado.
However, after only a minute, he could see them. His mother and grandmother were dancing to the same hidden melody and rhythm he could never hear, and dancing along with her. He could see them smiling despite the pain and uncertainty. He remembered those days and remembered their hands holding his. He could not stop the tears forming as he watched her dance.
Saudade. Within that land, it is known as a painful feeling of longing for something lost and unreachable. Something that the soul could never replace.
She knew, in her heart, how much that dance meant. In those movements, she felt it. Saudade, and remembered how lonely it felt to dance without him.
Ullr's Globe
Arena
"Absurd…" Pakkanen whispered.
"Excuse me?" Oya asked.
"Are you deaf? I said absurd. I thought I finally found a worthy foe, and you're still not sufficient."
"Because I don't roll over and play dead? Like you?"
Pakkanen clenched his claws. "Bite…your tongue…cur." The crack on his helmet's jaw grew.
"'Cur? I'm wounded now."
"I graced you with a form I designed to put down your better. I humored your growth with the chance to exchange the right way, but you continue to throw it all away." The crack grew again.
"I should feel so honored."
"I thought you were worthy of it, but now I have to put an end to this farce."
"Said that before."
The helmet split in two, and the crack opened, revealing a twisted, toothy maw. "I WILL NOT BE MOCKED BY A GOD!" His eyes rolled up into his head, and he lunged at her.
Petty… She thought. She crouched down and rose to jump, but didn't move. She looked down at her feet, seeing ice jut out and pin her feet. When did-
"I tolerated another disgrace, humoring this!" He roared, landing in front of Oya. Pakkanen's hands flattened into edges. "Thinking I might finally find someone worthy of my full power, but I am constantly failed by YOU!" He swiped at Oya. She braced herself and parried the first blow, feeling electricity flow out of her hands.
"YOU! Do you comprehend this form?! I poured my heart and soul into becoming this, and for what?! Him! Not you!" He continued slashing away. Oya continued to block and parry each attack as pain fired up her arms from each attack. While her skin was strong enough to stop her blow, she could feel her bones giving way.
"I was promised my destined battle with him! I tolerated Winchester for him! All for the chance to take everything from him, again! But he's dead, and now all I have to look forward to is YOU?! Another obnoxious wind user bemoaning a lost mate, and the spot in 'Ragnarök?'"
Oya parried a blow and fired her left fist into his right shoulder, knocking his arm away and cutting a hole in his shoulder. She raised her right arm, blocking a blow aimed for her head, and struck his chin with a right hook, melting the lower half of his head. "RAGNARÖK, OYA! THE STUPID, ASININE CONTEST BETWEEN TWO DIFFERENT BREEDS OF CATTLE! AND YOU CAN'T JUST 'ROLL OVER AND DIE' AND LET ME GET THIS OVER WITH?!"
The blows continued to rain down. Sparks raced across her shins down to her feet.
Come on, melt already! Why is it still solid?!
Ullr's Globe
Yoruba Box Seats
"He's getting desperate?" Ogun asked.
"…I think he is," Eshu said.
"His whole world is crumbling," Oludumare said. "What else was going to happen? Those like him can't stand reality hitting them square in the nose. It's sad."
"It very much is," Oshumare said. "But it's in those moments one can either grow or fall to pieces."
Ullr's Globe
Arena
"I will never give this to you!" Oya yelled, punching back amidst the assault. "You don't deserve it! All you ever do is take! All you ever do is ruin lives to satisfy your fragile ego and your sad hunger!" Her electrified punches continued to strike at his body, but a crisis arose during the exchange. One Pakkanen had no clue that was occurring during his blind fury.
Oya's lightning could not melt the ice anymore.
Why? Neither knew, but the edge Oya had was slipping away.
Her feet were pinned. Her wind could not cut him, and now, her lightning was near useless.
"You are no judge! No ruler! Just a petty monster! Ragnarök is our rite! Our mission! And I will put you down to make it happen!"
Her right fist smashed into his chest, sending him skidding back.
He looked down at the point of impact and stopped. His head snapped up to Oya, then back to his chest, then back to Oya. The crack on his helmet bent into a crooked, jagged smile.
"You don't have your sword."
Oya's eyes widened.
"And your lightning is useless."
"Oh no…," Oya whispered.
"Play time's OVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!"
Pakkanen raised his hands, and the ice below him rose, becoming another platform. He climbed several meters as all the snow and ice not touched by Oya's sword flew up to him. It all smashed together high above him, molding and twisting together, growing by the second. Oya tried to pull her legs free as the growing ice mass obscured the sky. She punched the ice, but nothing. She frantically looked around.
Where's the machete?! She thought. I need it!
High above her, Pakkanen's smile widened as he watched her.
"Oh no! Where'd your machete go?! I couldn't have moved it mid-fight when you and I were fighting, did I?!" He yelled.
Oya looked up at him, livid. Then shocked.
High above Pakkanen, staring down at her, was a wolf's head the size of a mountain.
"I guess I did! You entered my world! The least I could do was keep you from relapsing!"
"You Bastard!" She yelled.
"Get angry! Be scared. It's all you have left to keep you company! But let me give you something else!"
The wolf's eyes opened wide. Cyan, like his.
"The truth of this world! That you should ACCEPT. YOUR. PLAAAAAACE!"
The mountainous wolf's maw opened wide.
"JUMALANSYÖJÄ!"
It dropped from the vaulted, star-filled ceiling. The displaced air spread out and slammed against everything. The trees bent and broke. Windows rattled and cracked. The ice-covered ceiling cracked, releasing boulder-sized chunks of ice.
Oya's ears flooded with the rumble of the oncoming beast as the displaced air bombarded her. The entire Yoruba Pantheon held its breath, each praying and begging in silence for her to do something. Anything.
Oya...inhaled deeply. She looked to her left, then looked to her right, seeing Jarl scramble away on her podium and activate its translucent barrier. She looked down at her scaly, clawed right hand. Her gaze softened as she envisioned a larger hand holding it, gripping it tight. She looked back up at the oncoming monster and sighed.
"Too old to learn. Too stubborn to try," She said, raising her hands. "But I'm not."
The wolf's head grew closer.
Pakkanen watched on from a distance, keeping his sights locked on Oya.
Arrogant God! He thought. Struggle all you want!
The air between Oya and the attack continued assaulting her. Her ears popped as her braids tussled in the wind.
Sixty meters. The wolf's open jaws blocked everything ahead and behind her from view.
Forty meters. She could see the details of its mouth and her reflection in its teeth.
Twenty meters. Its maw closed, tearing through soil and stone.
The monstrous head smashed the earth below.
Pakkanen watched on, feeling joy and satisfaction grow in his chest. His body shuddered, and let the compulsion run, bursting into raucous laughter. It was loud and obnoxious, and every God who heard it could feel the smug contempt seep into their pores.
All except three.
Set, who watched the fight through his tablet with Brigid by his side, felt disappointment.
Oshumare, who stood apart and, in his mind, above the other Yoruba, felt impatient.
The third…
The meteor, embedded in the ground below Pakkanen, exploded. A flood of green liquid erupted from its epicenter, flooding the field and forest.
He stood, petrified and wide-eyed as the world below him drowned. His mirth and vitriol vanished instantly.
Barely able to comprehend what just happened, he could only utter one word.
"What?"
He then heard it. That very sensation was thrown back in his face.
Laughter.
Deep. Joyful. Vitriolic.
Standing far below him, shin deep in the glowing green, was Oya, beaming from ear to ear, cackling. Pakkanen, even from a distance, could see the manic glee emanating from her being, and felt another, dreaded feeling flood his being.
No…again? Noooo…I…I am…afraid?! No! Impossible! Memories flowed through his mind. A familiar warrior in matching armor, and a grizzled knight with swept-back chestnut hair in red armor, wielding a long scythe. She is NOTHING compared to them!
Her face...was rigid and flattened. Scales enveloped the sides of her head. The whites of her eyes turned yellow, and sharp, curved fangs jutted out of her mouth as she laughed.
She…she looks like… Pakkanen's mind raced through the endless history of his kin. Serpents, panthers, bulls, dragons, all the shapes his kind took on in their formative years. Only one, however, held a firm place in his mind. One that no other creature in the creation could supplant.
His stare hardened.
"You think looking like that duplicitous serpent will make a difference?!" He roared. "This mockery will cease!"
Oya stopped laughing and met his glare.
"Oshumare always got under your skin, didn't he?" She said. "The moment he saw you were here…" She chuckled. "He knew this could happen. How sad."
"SAD?!"
"I heard once you two were part of a trifecta. Sadly, not really, Tiamat fell. Must've been a nasty slap in the face to know someone at your level was turned into a weapon." She extended her arms to her sides and raised them. The green liquid around her churned and swished. "I wonder if this is what I could do if I…you know. I have wind. I have lightning. I have this now…" She waved her hands up, and dozens of waterspouts shot into the air, slithering towards Pakkanen. "I wonder what I could do with you!"
"You conceited cur!" Pakkanen stuck his right hand out and activated his core. The spouts froze in mid-air. "You think a plebian like you could—" The ice instantly melted, and the spouts rushed his way. He jumped off the platform and summoned another from below his feet. This is not possible! Only Oshumare has this level of control! How is she fighting my will OUT of the universal solvent?! She couldn't have this much skill…unless!
Ullr's Globe
Yoruba Box Seats
All of the Yoruba sat in silence, frozen. The mixture of horror and sorrow among them filled the room. Oludumare sighed quietly as his expression softened with remorse. Ogun pursed his lips and clenched his fists before shooting another leer towards Oshumare, smiling as the fight continued below.
Smile all you want. He thought. You won't be when it's time.
Oshumare ran his clawed right hand against his cheek and lips. He turned to Ogun and huffed before focusing back on the fight. If you could only appreciate how beautiful she is now. He thought. Almost like looking in a mirror. Had I known this would happen, I'd have made you AND Shango look into Niflheim long ago. Just don't play with your food for too long.
Ullr's Globe
Arena
Another barrage of spouts flew his way. Pakkanen rocketed upwards, summoning several small floating platforms. He bounded from one to the other, barely landing on one foot before jumping to the next, as the spouts continued their pursuit.
As he jumped ahead, another dozen spouts shot up from the ground right below him. Attacks from below. Attacks from behind. All he could do was slowly descend before being swallowed by the liquid monster.
"I…am done…" He stretched out all four limbs and his tail. "WITH YOOOOOOOOOOOU!" All the liquid froze. The chill raced through every attack, freezing everything as it passed through the spouts and into the flooded forest below. In an instant, a sheet of ice enveloped the entire floor. "I AM BEYOND YOU, YOU DAMN MIMIC!" He landed on the frozen spouts. He clenched his hands. All the ice, every single centimeter, shattered into countless shards.
Jarl scrambled to activate her platform's barrier. As it enveloped her, Pakkanen waved his arms in a circle. The shards followed his movements. He kept whirling his arms and began spinning.
"Is…Pakkanen…dancing?!" Jarl yelled. "Wait. Where's Oya?!" She scanned the globe, trying to find her as the shards slowly formed a titanic, globe-spanning twister.
Within the twister's center, on another platform, Pakkanen continued his violent dance. The millions of shards spun around him, shredding through everything in their path. Trees. Stones. Nothing remained.
Save for one thing. Far below, racing through the monstrous storm, dancing in tandem with the ice and wind all the while, was Oya. Each shard that soared near her melted away before freezing as it left. She jumped up and let the wind take her.
Pakkanen snapped his attention to her. He raised his left hand, and dozens of frozen spheres appeared around him. He pointed at her, and they flew.
Each one raced into the twister towards Oya.
You think this is my first time dealing with this?! Pakkanen thought. I fought Oshumare countless times to establish my dominance! It was I whom Yggdrasil begged to join their ranks and tear away at their foes! Not that damn snake!
Oya punched and kicked each sphere as they tried to smash into her. Each one exploded into liquid before freezing into more shards.
He couldn't overpower my will! He couldn't melt anything he didn't have contact with! And I know exactly how to put you down!
Oya dipped down and fired out of the funnel in a whirl straight towards him.
Pakkanen froze and aimed his left hand at Oya. "Melt this." He clenched his fist.
Every shard stopped. The twister vanished. Both were now stuck in the middle of a tower of shards.
And they were all pointed at Oya.
Pakkanen pointed his index finger, and every shard swarmed in on her. Oya's eyes widened as the world darkened around her. She could feel the closest shards melt before hitting her. Then the next ones. Then a few solid ones mixed in. Then more. She could feel ice forming on her body as she continued to fly through the swarm of ice.
I have to reach him! She thought. I can't stop now! I have to! Everything, even this, would mean nothing!
She pushed against the ice, trying to melt it as she soared. She could see him getting closer. She could also see…she wasn't reaching him. More and more ice formed between the two, and she could feel it enveloping her body faster than she could melt it.
Shango…
Jarl looked on in awe and horror at the sight. A massive sphere of ice. One so large it filled up half of the Globe's vaulted ceiling. "….Oh man…," She said.
Pakkanen stood on a frozen platform in front of it, his index finger still raised.
"Guess Oshumare never taught you the drawbacks to his powers," He said. "He couldn't melt anything he wasn't touching. Once it was, he could control it, except when we fought. I can freeze things faster than he can melt them. And you are no better than him." He sighed. "Suffocation must be an ironic way to go for a Wind Goddess. It suits you."
Ullr's Globe
Yoruba Box Seats
"OYAAAA!" Eshu yelled, jumping out of his seat.
"Be quiet!" Oshumare yelled. "It's getting good!"
Eshu turned to him, his face filled with fear and rage.
"Excuse me?!"
"I said it's getting good." He pointed back to the sphere.
Eshu turned back and froze.
"Watch."
Ullr's Globe
Arena
Pakkanen stood silently, arm still raised.
It's been about twenty seconds… He thought. Why is that girl not counting or something? Surely, she'd be doing something to save her? It's what Gods do. Cover for each other and corral togeth—
"Eh-hmm," A familiar voice said behind him.
His mind went blank. It was not possible.
He turned and saw the familiar, infuriating visage.
"How—"
"Girl's got to have her secrets," Oya whispered, her smooth voice coming out of her draconic maw. "But for you, I'll share."
She gently raised her right hand into a chop and gently glided her fingertips from Pakkanen's left collarbone down to his waist. Green cracks formed where she traced along his body. Pakkanen's eyes widened. "Afẹ́fẹ́ Oró."
"No," He said under his breath. He focused on it, and the cracks began closing.
"Nice little trick, right? Oshumare gave Shango and me a fang each. We added them to our weapons." She traced her knife hand diagonally across Pakkanen's chest. More green cracks grew and joined with the ones Pakkanen fought against.
The globe behind him cracked.
"It didn't do a thing to my sword or his axes until I saw Niflheim, then, and only then, did it really do something."
She gently caressed his body with her hands, summoning more cracks.
"It took a minute for the power to finally kick in, but you're the perfect person to test it on. I can now even melt the ice you're focusing on maintaining. Guess you're not used to working so hard."
"STOP IT, DAMN YOU!" He roared. He stumbled back a few steps as more cracks formed across his body, letting out steam.
"My red eyes turned silver, like Nu's, when I saw Niflheim. I saw the void, and now I have a hole in me. A hole that can be filled when I arm myself with the essences of others. Their weapons." She smirked as Pakkanen dropped to his knees, trembling as he fought to seal the cracks. "That machete has pieces of Shango's axe and Oshumare's fangs. A memento mori of my beloved. Any weapon I wield, I can wield the power of its master." She smiled and pointed at her fangs. "Àmì Ibojì. Best part? I don't physically have to hold it! It's just got to be close enough…" She stepped forward.
"STOP THIS!" Pakkanen yelled. This isn't right! It's not supposed to be this way! She's not this strong!
"for me…," She continued.
I can't die! It's not possible! His arm plopped out of the socket.
"To be reminded of what I lost, and what I. MUST. TAKE."
Pakkanen stared up at her in horror, his body melting beneath her gaze.
"And I will take from you what you hold dear, Pakkanen."
He whimpered.
"You were never a predator with me. Nor prey. You were just in the way."
She twisted and fired a right punch straight at Pakkanen's melting head. His eyes went dark as Oya's fist smashed through his head. His body melted and spread across the platform as the frozen sphere exploded into more green liquid. The platform Oya stood on dropped out of the sky. Oya whipped her hand, summoning another spout below the platform, stopping its fall.
She looked up, eyeing a small yellow light floating and flickering high above her, identical to the ceiling's fake stars. It reached the ceiling and vanished.
Coward. Run all you want. I'll come find you when I'm done here. She turned towards the Yoruba Box. As I said, you were just in the way.
Slowly, Jarl floated over to her and scanned the area.
"Uuuuuh…I guess it's over?" She asked.
Oya looked up at her and smiled.
Sir…I think we're in trouble. "Then it's over! Everyone! The last match of Round One has officially ended! The winner of Round One Match Four is….OOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAA!"
Pakkanen VS Oya
Victor: Oya
Match Length: 20 minutes 12 seconds
Deciding Move: Afẹ́fẹ́ Oró