An idle claw slowly moved along the surface of the throne's right armrest, though its owner seemed to be paying little heed to her own nervous actions. By then, a faint scratch mark had been formed there in the shape of a foreign rune whose very existence gave it the ability to emit light. The Goddess herself was focused on different matters, her gaze calculating and her body leaning to the left slightly due to her skull resting on a lifeless left hand. Though outwardly it appeared boredom had struck her, in truth she was simply debating matters in her own mind. It seemed as though months had passed since the initial construction of her temple-fortress, one that Ita believed was impenetrable. Few men inside it could hold off an entire army if they wanted to, she believed. In fact, the red magical barrier covering the entire thing was intended to keep out all of the 'corrupt.'

Ita's less-than-sane elimination of all of her followers was deemed complete after Dengar fell, and a second wave of subjects was already beginning to become somewhat established, though most of her first followers had to be "persuaded" to her side through magical means. Despite this, the Goddess of Chaos was still at an extreme disadvantage compared to other worldly powers. At that time, her army was so tiny it could easily be overpowered by a force as small as the Lomedor Guard. Ita had realized her vulnerability as the perfect chance for her abundant enemies to strike, so she needed to gather numbers, and quickly. But that was a different problem to be regarded at a different time; the lupine's golden gaze tilted downward from the Hall of Destruction's massive observation window to the Seldarine Board not four feet away from her position atop her throne.

The six-sided chess board was surprisingly full of life, which served as somewhat of a form of entertainment for the goddess. Her hounds, most likely the most widespread unit in her arsenal, were certainly at work in several places to observe various fights going on in the world in real-time. A glittering gold-colored paladin piece parried an invisible sword blow dealt by an obsidian demon piece on the opposite side of the board. An emerald-forged ent stomped on unseen victims in defense of the forests. Ita, smirking as if enjoying her limited omniscience, then glanced over to the side of the board with the fewest pieces; her own. A frown played on her bloodstained muzzle as she beheld the chest of a ruby plasma dragon cave in as if being stabbed in the heart, then crumble to the ground after a silent roar of defeat. Moments after, the piece faded to nothingness.

Grumbling, Ita moved her gaze from the Seldarine Board to the sudden movement outside the closed doors of the Hall of Destruction. A dog-sized beast burst inside, bringing himself to an abrupt stop in front of Ita's throne. He nearly collapsed from fatigue, his wolven chest rising and falling with massive frequency while his tongue drooped lazily out of his jaw. Seldarine Hounds possessed extreme stamina; surely this one had been running at full speed for a great distance. "What matter of importance brings you here?" Ita inquired, somewhat cocking her head inquisitively. "Yomeniampa, m'lady," was all that the hound could say between panting and gasping for breath. His legs shivered and his joints began to buckle under the weight they could no longer sustain. "Yomeniampa... your daughter... Charlotte is alive, hiding there..."

"...WHAT?!" Ita roared in a voice louder than the booming of thunder, the world-ripping strength of an earthquake, or the impact of countless meteors upon Arda's surface. At first Ita was in complete disbelief, suspicion, and perhaps denial. Her gaze flicked back to the Seldarine Board, and what she beheld made her bare her teeth. On an empty space on the board materialized a piece formed of granite, symbolizing lack of allegiance to any deity. Charlotte, donning the same grin she frequently carried in person, seemed to be silently taunting the Reckless One with her existence. Two massive valkyrie wings spread from the piece's back, and her arms were crossed in defiance. Ita's right hand ceased carving the rune and flexed angrily into a fist, all the while clawing three deep gashes into her throne's armrest. "How could this be?! I saw her myself all those months ago, when she was lying in the snow surrounded by a pool of her own blood! Were you the only one to have seen her?"
"No. Five crebain... spotted her as well, but three... were killed by Yomeniampa... guardsmen. The two that survived... are perched outside." This only caused silence within the Hall of Destruction. Ita gave a distinct snort before turning her head to her right. Lying peacefully on the floor next to her throne was a basket, which the goddess studied for a few moments. Left hand wrapping around the handle of Mashaka, which was leaning against the wall, Ita finally rose from her seat and turned to face the Seldarine Hound once more. "Get me my armor."

The Seldarine Hound nodded at the command, and the furious Goddess of Chaos stomped out through the twin doors that led to the Hall. The small canine, however, couldn't help but turn and eye the basket that rested abandoned and undisturbed next to the empty throne. He sighed gravely, then turned and followed his goddess outside.

Meanwhile, the very form of Charlotte was thusly beckoning Chaos, her entire being the utmost taunting to such a goddess. She was devouring some Alfredo pasta with some fine elven wine. Clearly, this act of defiance was unequaled by anything. Charlotte, completely unaware of her numerous travesties noisily slurped some more pasta. She took her hand off of the heathen fork of pasta-eating and swigged some clearly heretical wine in such an improper manner it was a further act of defiance. The elven chef who had come to watch her eat also disliked the way she swigged the wine, for she took it straight from the bottle, as though it was whiskey or some other hard alcohol. The only reason he was out from the kitchen to observe her was for she was the only person to order breakfast at his restaurants, and also the only to eat Alfredo without any meat.

"Miss, would you like a glass for the wi--," He began to plead, before a frosty glare cut him off. Charlotte finished the pasta off as quickly as possible, no doubt nearly choking herself. Then she took the bottle of wine into her mouth, whipped her head back, and literally chugged the drink. As the liquid disappeared, so did the chef's heart. Drowned into the torments of a seemingly uncultured, merc-like brute of an angel-thing, he gave an exasperated sigh. Charlotte, who was now leaning back in the chair, which resulted in the front legs raised from the floor and using another as a foot rest, gave a pleasant sigh.

"To answer your question, nah. And to further that, your food and wine was very good, kind sir. And your company was as well. Anything for me?"
"Your manners are barbaric, you need to gain weight, and there is an odd bird watching the both of us from the window." The elven chef declare. Char's attention shot to the window, where she observed the crebain in the window. Her eyes flicked about to the other windows, where another was perched. Two. The attention of the blond switched to the elf yet again, and she arose from her seat, as though there was no emergency.

"I must take my leave, it appears the Goddess of Chaos still has a bone to pick with me. I'll hope, good sir, that you may avoid the following carnage and destruction, for my sake and yours." Charlotte explained. The chef gave a nod, and snatched the glittering object that soared through the air at him. A single piece of gold, which was worth far more than the meal she had just eaten. She gave a wave, and swaggered out to meet her death yet again, providing her death was actually present. Otherwise, she might have to wait, which was no fun whatsoever. Her lifestyle was designed around constantly doing something, even if it was nothing. For nothing was a very important something to the more.

Hand on her hip, her face twisted into yet another smirk(defiant, as usual, as though Ita couldn't kill her as easily again) and the spare hand on her sheathed two-handed sword. It wouldn't be long, she suspected.

A single flash of red light was all that preluded Ita's materialization beyond the ground-level gates of Yomenïampa. The Goddess of Chaos had a long-running conflict with city guards, particularly due to her all-too-easily distinguishable appearance and near guarantee to cause some form of trouble whenever entering a public area such as those. Yomenïampa itself was one of the most heavily guarded cities she knew of; elven archers were always on the lookout. Their security measures nowhere near matched the numbers of guardsmen in areas like Ondolond and Lomedor, but the skill of each was almost unmatched. Since Ita was unwilling to take on some form of disguise for this encounter, it was best for her to bypass as many guards as she could. The gates were where they were concentrated, she knew, and thus had focused her teleportation far past them. Now she stood before the great tree-city, crimson pelt making her stick out like a sore thumb among the abundant greens and browns. The two crebain that had spotted Charlotte now were perched upon either of the goddess' shoulders.

Ita stroked her chin in contemplation, looking about as if expecting her former daughter to be in perfectly plain sight. Seeing no person of the sort, the goddess lifted one of her hands and gave a quick snap with her fingers. Automatically the two crebain spread their wings and took off through the pathways inside and out of the great tree in search of Charlotte Kemensereg. Ita herself decided to do much of the same, strolling up through the elven-crafted walkways whose edges were protected by wooden guard rails. Her route took her around the outside of the tree's trunk, through tunnels, over branches, and into what seemed like mid-air. She peered in the window of every building she came across, searching for her daughter's bright blonde hair, the two feathered wings she had seen in her daughter's corresponding Seldarine Board piece, or even perhaps the mercenary's warhorse tied outside of one of the many taverns in the area.

But alas, it was not. Ita had nearly reached the tree's very top, with only two buildings remaining in her line of sight. Branches and twigs covered in leaves hung down just above the goddess' head, forcing her to push them aside or tear them off in order to see. What she saw only moments after, however, made her search seem much less hopeless. At one of the last buildings she could make out, a restaurant as it seemed, both of her crebain were neatly perched at the windowsill. They appeared focused and observant, something Ita knew as a sign that they had found what she had been looking for. Both of them turned at the sight of Ita, quickly flying away in knowing their purpose had been fulfilled and they were no longer needed for the time being.

It seemed like a nice restaurant, too. It was really a shame it would probably be reduced to rubble by the time Ita was finished with her daughter.

In one explosive burst the oak double-doors that led inside the building came open, revealing inside merely the form of two people. Of course, Ita wouldn't tolerate witnesses to what mortals thought was a "criminal act." Witnesses, as Ita had discovered in the many millennia of her existence, had a nasty habit of running and calling for help. If there was anything Ita didn't need, it was becoming a pincushion for showers of elven barbed arrows shot from concealed sharpshooting guardsmen. Ita stormed through the restaurant's doorway, where she perfectly perceived the smirk on her daughter's face, who appeared as though she was on her way out. The other man relatively far from her position but still in earshot, a chef by the looks of it, would have to be the first to die. Her right hand shot forwards in the direction of the elf.

"Good morning, Charlotte," the Vala commented in an exaggerated lighthearted tone as the chef, whose expression soon filled with surprise, was slowly lifted telekinetically mere inches into the air. "Isn't it somewhat rude to leave so quickly?" Her claws abruptly formed into a fist, which in turn completely caved in and shattered the chef's ribcage. Bits of bone internally lodged themselves into his various organs. The goddess removed her telekinetic grip on him, and he fell limp to the floor, no blood having been spilled externally. "Now, Charlotte, I hope your combat skills have improved since we last met. It was somewhat anti-climactic to see you die so easily, don't you think?" She took a single step back from her daughter and shot her other hand forward. A crimson fireball came into existence and roared towards the mercenary at nearly point-blank range.

Where others saw suicide, Charlotte saw an opening. She observed Ita's telekinesis, and although she felt sorry for the chef, she did nothing for him. Where she could have stabbed into the goddess, taking advantage of her momentary change in focus, she allowed the fight to progress with honor. Chivalry was never lost on her, although technically she should have been the target of chivalry. As Ita spoke, she thought up every word she would say in counter to the goddess, for in truth it was her only real method of fighting a divine. Certainly she could injure the goddess, but survive for long afterwards? That was the question at hand. As she pondered, she noted the fireball hurtling towards her. Far, far too late. She twisted to the side, allowing the fireball to take her in the shoulder instead of her chest. The horrid stench of burning flesh and hair filled the room, as Charlotte gave a whimper. She fell to her knees, the flesh of her shoulder bubbled and mutilated.

"I-I would have something to say, something cocky and arrogant if it wasn't for this damn shoulder of mine. Just isn't what it used to be, chaos goddess," Char stated with all her poorly veiled pain slipping out. Gradually she rose to her feet, and drew her two handed blade with her left hand. Luckily, she was left handed, but on the other hand her nameless blade was best wielded with both. And thus, the battle was started. With a doomed mercenary and a nearly all-powerful goddess on the warpath, the poor tree-city wasn't to be left unmolested either. The mercenary lifted the blade, and with the first heavy step she mentally bolstered herself. She would win this, there was no defeating a valkyrie, there was no defeating her lineage, came the words through her mind.

The mercenary girl sprinted forwards, her speed no doubt a shock to the goddess. Few could run as fast as she, and fewer without magic. She came across Ita on her left side, bringing up the great battle-blade in a slash that would have been weak, except being propelled so by her run. The four foot blade came across the goddess's stomach, perhaps causing injury, perhaps not, Charlotte failed to check. She ceased her run, skidding to a halt and pivoting around to glance at the goddess yet again.

"And I'll promise you, Ita, I won't go down without a mark on your hide this time. A large mark, if you would be so kind." She declared, through gritted teeth. The pain of her shoulder consumed her being, and it was by the years of war she had in her short life that allowed her to tolerate it. And with that, she also hoped that Ita's entrails were to grace the man's floor. That would be an even better way to start her morning.

A low chuckle rang out from within the Vala's throat. Nothing made her more happy than seeing her former daughter in pain, the woman who had done so much to hinder her influence. It occasionally had amazed her at the heights a mere mortal had gone to in order to meddle in the affairs of the gods and goddesses of Arda. "I-I would have something to say, something cocky and arrogant if it wasn't for this damn shoulder of mine. Just isn't what it used to be, chaos goddess," Charlotte said not long after falling to her knees, seemingly writhing in pain from the fireball that had been taken to the shoulder. Ita had been aware of the nasty habit her former daughter had, of being able to move in such a way that a lethal or near-lethal attack would hit home in an area that would reduce its crippling power. It hadn't saved her from her first death, however, and it wouldn't save her from her second and final one.

Ita took several steps back to create more distance between her and the recoiling Charlotte. Within moments she stood just outside the restaurant's open doorway, in the middle of one of Yomeniampa's many trunk-side walkways. When her daughter finally rose to her feet, the goddess was already in the process of casting another spell. Arcane power clung to both of her fists, nearly ready to be unleashed if given only a small bit of additional time to gather. She had underestimated the speed of her opponent, however, and within moments the sharp steel of a blade cut across the Goddess of Chaos' breastplate. Although the attack did no considerable damage to the lupine herself, it left a long scratch mark behind and shook her greatly from its impact. Her concentration ruined, the spell dissipated into thin air.

Following a roar of frustration the Vala quickly turned to face her daughter once more. Spells would be of little use in a fight between blades; in one single, fluid motion the Chaos Axe was freed from the sheathe on her back, roaring into blue flames as its rune-filled head arced over the goddess' body. It fell nearly without opposition to dig itself into the wooden boards the two fighters stood upon. Ita quickly tore it out and stepped on the burning path, smothering any flame that would have normally consumed the quite flammable town. Mashaka itself began to take on a nearly liquid appearance, its metal dripping down the long handle and resting hardened in a new position. A second set of claws slipped over the hilt of the Chaos Axe, having transformed into an almost exact replica of the two-handed blade Charlotte wielded.

In a small burst of speed Ita darted toward her former daughter and, using all of the strength in both of the hands that held her weapon, initiated a steep upward slash planned to drive deep into the crook of Charlotte's arm, just under her healthy shoulder. Bloodlust clouded Ita's vision and she pulled back instantly after her attack, unable to see its result. Mashaka soon raised high in the air for another strike, crashing down towards Charlotte like a felled tree trunk. The Goddess of Chaos followed through and paused for a mere moment, twisting her body to better suit herself for a third attack. Her impatience would not allow Charlotte to counterattack just yet. The shapeshifted blade finally plunged toward the mercenary's chest in a motion intended to deal the final, lethal blow. Once and for all, the most heretical woman in the realm of Arda would fall and remain fallen.

And thus, Charlotte's day took a turn for the worse. The goddess had body armor, and Charlotte did not. The goddess hardly needed it, her divinity being the best armor available. Quick eyes scanned the state of her own blade as Ita formed Mashaka into a replica. The signs of the patch were unfortunately obvious, and Charlotte knew the blade couldn't take too many hits. Battle ready repairs her wing! Ita slammed her great blade into the living wood, then stomped out the flames. Charlotte gave a mental groan, everything was fire with Ita the Reckless. If it wasn't burning, she wasn't going to use it. Charlotte, on the other hand, abhorred using fire, worse was the aroma of roast feather. She expected to smell that at some point in the day.

Then came the first move against her. A red, blue-burning blur made a neat crescent in the air, slicing upwards through a whole variety of valuable nitrogen and oxygen molecules, with some assorted carbon dioxide and argon for astounding damage to the seemingly empty air. The intended target had leapt backwards, her own blade being brought back to the defense of her body. Then in an almost cunning reversal, the blade came straight back down. It gave Charlotte the imagery of her entire shoulder being cleaved away, clean through to slice the upper half of her kidneys on its way out. That would not be pleasant.

Charlotte brought up her own blade, the edge coming into contact with the flat of Ita's blade, knocking it aside. Aside meant that her shoulder had been nicely skinned, and yet again the mercenary grunted with pain. The skin of her shoulder fell to the ground, and to Charlotte's grim fascination she took a moment to observe the unsettling sight. And luckily for her, the shoulder wound had been cauterized. Then came the final attack, a straight forward lunge. This played to her advantage.

Charlotte pivoted so her healthy shoulder pointed at Ita, allowing the Goddess's blade to narrowly slice her open. It shredded her favorite green shirt some more. With an almost fencer-like pose Charlotte brought up her heavy blade and lunged in counter. The blade slipped underneath Ita's arm, targeting one of the few unarmored points on her torso. Charlotte hoped, blindly, that this would disable the goddess for enough time to allow for an escape.

Or she would die again, as the goddess said. Plain and simple, she wasn't equipped to fight a deity, or even to survive such an encounter.

Ita had underestimated her former general. In fact, she had completely forgotten the whole reason for adopting Charlotte as her daughter in the first place, until now. It seemed that killing her so easily back in Nandgirith had given the goddess a false sense of her daughter's true amount of weakness. She wasn't strong, Ita knew for sure; she would never compare to a guardian or god. But Charlotte was certainly displaying a tendency to avoid dying. Within the haze of battle Ita finally perceived the full extent of the wounds she had inflicted on her former daughter.

It was a disappointment in and of itself to see the mercenary still breathing, but it was blasphemy that she hadn't been thoroughly incapacitated by the Vala's attacks. Finally, the counterattack. Charlotte had given Ita little time to prepare herself, and bits of skin and crimson-red fur fell to the floor. The two-handed blade had given the goddess an unintended haircut as it slid over the bottom, unarmored part of her arm in order to make its way to the intended target.

It plunged deep into one of the few vulnerable areas of the goddess, between two of her 'ribs' and just under her armpit. Rather than blood spilling out of the massive wound, a bright crimson light shot out from within an endless void, illuminating the point of impact just after the goddess stumbled backward to get the sword out of her body. Mashaka fell to the ground and Ita's arm dangled lifelessly to her side. A howl escaped the Vala's open jaws, partially of pain and partially of surprise. Her gaze flicked to Charlotte with utter disbelief, golden eyes wide.

But she had no time to retrieve her blade, whose fiery aura was beginning to ignite the wooden boardwalk the two combatants stood upon. Another roar of pain filled the air, as well as the existence of yet another beam of red light that shot forth from a second wound. The end half of an arrow jutted out from the back of her only remaining arm. More arrows from the same direction made their way toward the goddess, many finding their ways in small cracks where two plates of armor normally met (although the majority were deflected by her armor).

Ita grunted and, temporarily sacrificing her visibility of Charlotte, backed up and turned toward the new aggressors. Concealed on the branches and within the leaves of the great Elvish tree were bow-wielding town guardsmen. The Vala gave a loud groan. Another group of arrows shot forth in her direction, but she quickly stepped to the side to avoid them. Unfortunately, however, the flames from Mashaka had since engulfed a great deal of the walkway, and in the process weakened the structure as a whole.

Mashaka itself had burned a hole in its position and plunged to the depths of the Yomeniampa tree, out of sight completely. When Ita pressed her weight against the floor she immediately heard a distinct crack from the burning wood. The Vala turned in Charlotte's direction again, but was unable to see her due to the wall of smoke given off by the two-foot-tall flames. Knowing their fight would have to continue on somewhat more stable ground (should Charlotte have not been killed by the fire already), Ita rushed to the outer end of the burning walkway, climbed over the guard rail, and leaped off.

It was barely a fall. One of the two-man-wide branches jutting out from Yomeniampa's center trunk caught her, only about twelve feet lower than their former battlefield. Mashaka was gone, but Ita still had plenty of spells in her arsenal, and plenty of magical energy left to use them with.

Charlotte suddenly noted the devastating consequences of her actions. The tree city was to burn, unless the town guards were given enough time to quench the flames. Char considered holding Ita off, another selfless act that would no doubt shove her further down the path of fame. But only after death, and death was something she was unlikely to escape this time around. Her chivalry tore at her from one side while her wounds tore at her from the other. She limped to the edge of the flaming platform, her movements ragged and obviously painful. A shaking hand felt at the fresh scar on her cheek from the war, and she sighed. The flames leapt from one dry patch to another, steadily gaining upon the heroine. She giggled softly, and uttered the phrase that doomed her initially yet again.

"I will right this world." Charlotte murmured. The mercenary threw herself from the platform, both wings spread to their fullest extent. With a couple, powerful beats and the smaller ones that followed the mercenary gained altitude, her snow-white wings making a beautiful target for Ita's magic. She paused momentarily, calculating the dive she would take to her target. All she would need to do is incapacitate her target, and her own safety be damned more than her soul already was. With a flourish, she brought the scarred blade up once more. She admired it, mostly for the sentimental value, before leaning forwards. The valkyrie's wings folded, and she fell like a stone.

Some referred to such things as a stoop, being students of the great hunting birds. But to Charlotte, it was simply using herself as a battering ram, and hoping for the best. If Ita had a physical weapon, Charlotte wouldn't have attempted such a risky maneuver. But with the goddess limited to devastating but relatively useless at close range magic, Char need to close quickly and without mercy. The world around her blurred, as she brought her sword back, holding the point towards Ita, but the hilt near her hip. Her injured arm came forwards, the entire length of it shaking intolerably. Char gave a near muted groan to the pain as she neared even her amazing tolerance to the blasted feeling.

The dull green and silver eyes narrowed to slits as she reached the point of impact. As she attempted her collision with the goddess, she drove her blade into the hateful neck using all the force she could muster. And even if that did not connect, it was likely that the mercenary would collide head on with the goddess and knock her clean off the massive tree branch. At this point, it would have done her good to point out the vital weaknesses in her plan. If she managed to strike, it was more than likely she would be knocked unconscious via contact with the heavy metal plating. As well, Ita the Reckless could fly, so knocking her from the tree wouldn't have done much anyways. On the other hand, why would the merc-girl care? The only life she would throw around was her own, the moral codes of chivalry prevented her from doing anything else.

Once her position had been established, Ita didn't hesitate to go to work in the preparation for the second half of their scuffle (should Charlotte have survived the fire, which seemed inevitable at this point). Although use of her right arm had been completely incapacitated by Charlotte's strike, the left had only been wounded by an arrow to the back of the forearm. She was still fully capable of moving her shoulder, upper arm, and elbow on that side, but doing anything else with it --- particularly moving her hands and fingers --- was either out of the question or would have to be done in absolutely excruciating pain.

This was a problem that would have to be dealt with later; the most important thing was removing the arrow. Ita bent her arm as far as her armor would allow, keeping her hand as close as possible to her shoulder on the same side. She then flared her elbow up closer to her head, wrapped her jaws around the arrow, and pulled back. Its barbed tip shredded apart skin as it was forcibly removed from the goddess' body, causing another shower of light to shoot forth from the new wound. Ita cringed at the pain, quickly spitting the projectile out of her mouth and off of the branch. As she did so, a moving white blur caught her vision at the very corner of her eye.

The goddess took a step forward to position herself better atop the branch, then shot her arm forward in the direction of the faintly-perceived snowy silhouette. Missiles of arcane energy tore through the air like shining comets, one after the other in violently rapid succession. Charlotte's speed surpassed that of the spells, however; each of the nearly ten shots careened past the forest canopy and into thin air. Ita scowled at her failure and prepared a second fireball, one that would be able to home in on her former daughter with greater accuracy.

What the Vala hadn't noted was that her target had been getting larger and larger.

Ita held up her least wounded arm so that the black armor plate covering it acted as a miniscule shield. It still wasn't enough to withstand the full force of Charlotte's impact. Her balance instantly faltered and the mercenary's blade pushed aside her arm as though it weighed nothing. But this feeble defensive attempt proved somewhat useful; rather than digging completely into her body, the sword diverted slightly and gored the right side of her neck with unbearable force. More red light spilled out from the newly created wound. Not only had Charlotte's blade connected, but her entire body as well.

The Vala thrust her relatively healthy arm up at the last moment of her fall in order to hook her claws into the branch's bark, thus putting her in a dangling position off of the presumably hundreds of feet that stood between her and the ground. Her teeth clenched from the pain of using her digits. One hand was not enough to support the hundreds of pounds of weight that the goddess carried, and gravity was causing long scratch marks to rapidly appear in the tree that Ita held onto for dear life. Finally, after the passing of mere moments, the Goddess of Chaos murmured a curse in the Ainurin tongue and completely removed her hand from the side of the branch.

Complete silence.

But Ita refused to go down so easily. The goddess landed in a quadrupedal stance eighteen feet down, on a new branch that had broken her fall. She stood and tilted her head up, barely able to make out her former position and where Charlotte currently was. But limited visibility was certainly better than no visibility; following yet another wrathful roar a barrage of spells shot upwards. Arcane missiles, fireballs, bolts of red lightning and even a thick bolt of negative energy all came one after the other.

There was no pause between wordless and gestureless castings of spells, and Ita easily concealed her growing fatigue thanks to the utterly gargantuan rate that she was consuming mana. It was a sacrifice worth making to ensure the death of her former daughter. While the onslaught would have had trouble wounding Charlotte herself, it would certainly destroy the branch she stood on and hopefully continue further to damage the real prize.

Allowing for a comparison of the two's injuries from the view point of one of the humans of the city who was at the fore of the crowd observing the clash of the two, he would have said that perhaps the winged woman was winning. Until, of course, he was torn apart by a flurry of arcane energy that narrowly missed the winged one in her ascent. As was a couple other members of the crowd, their blood spurting across the face of the men behind them. They began to flee, until they heard the titanic crash of the two forms, and their morbid fascination brought them back. Stepping onto the corpses of their fellows, they observed a rather dismal scene for their winged champion.

Charlotte fell across the branch, sprawled out in her pleasant forced-sleep. The screams of the crowd, pleading for her to stand again as elven guards rushed to quench the flames, brushed her ears. They fell on deaf ones, for the crowd was unaware of her current state. But all the while in that head, the mercenary's subconscious struggled to bring her back to the world, fighting with all the fury and insane bravery the girl always held. With that, her eyes twitched to the rhythm of the quaking branch. Then she placed her uninjured arm to the branch, shoving herself up to observe the scene below. The goddess was slamming her tree with all the magic she could summon, and Charlotte's exhausted mind flicked on all the adrenalin it could muster at any one moment, and all the rest of the chemicals it could summon. Her pain disappeared, her body came alive, and she nearly threw herself to her feet. Blood from her injured skull leaked across her eyes, granting the merc a savage visage.

She pointed her blade menacingly at Ita the Reckless as a bolt of energy slashed open her uninjured shoulder. She dropped the blade, not of her own free will, for she hadn't even felt the blow. With a scream of defiance, she prepared to leap at the goddess, unarmed as she was. Unfortunately, Charcolate was a moment to late, and the branch underneath her literally exploded. Sharpened splinters the size of fingers and forearms hurtled upwards, some piercing the mercenary. They slipped into her as numerous as needles would a pincushion, causing horrific damage to every part of her. Moments later she was falling, spells still striking her. It would have been to the death, if not for the wings she had placed between Ita and herself. The wings in question were ripped apart, their feathers falling from Char like a flurry of snow. The appendages were blown off, but it was already too late for Ita's barrage to end the life of the mercenary once and for all. The remainder of the spells hurtled into the background, as the mercenary plummeted to the ground. Her fall looked to be uninterrupted, excepting the grouping of people around the base of the great trees.

"Az you ken zee, my zaff-etty net zhall be kruzhial to der zaff-etty of der non-elvenz in der tree-zity." Said an old elven wizard, who was sometimes called mad. Moments later, stopping all attention on him was the body of a destroyed angel-thing-woman. It also ceased his planned speech, and he screeched in delight at the net's amazing ability to softly catch and hold without any further injury. Charlotte, unaware of her sacrifice to science, simply recolored the net to her best efforts.

"Zee! You doubterz 'ave ben vankizhed! Zhe haz landed zaff-ettly!" He shouted, but his words were drounded out by a second voice.

"Charlotte!" Came the scream. A figure rushed up the net, to the backdrop of a darkening sky. Charlotte murmured, as the figure shook her,

"Only three," The murmur barely above the breathing of her savior came. And what followed, is the familiar darkness of not death, but unconsciousness.

Was it a cry of pain or a cry of defiance? Ita couldn't tell the difference, although she immediately assumed the latter since everything the mercenary girl did was obviously an attempt to undermine her. Yet, even after the barrage of spells that ripped apart the limb Charlotte stood on, she could faintly see through the smoke the flapping of two pristine white wings that kept an otherwise unharmed valkyrie aloft. Ita blinked twice in bewilderment. She was unable to fathom how her former daughter had escaped the impact on the tree, the spells, and the explosion of the branch, unscathed.

Giving a roar of discontent, Ita launched her clawed finger forward once more, sending streams of flame and arcane in her direction. But Charlotte merely gave a smile, the spells passing through her as if they were nothing. Momentarily the Goddess of Chaos theorized that the valkyrie had been killed and it was her ghost that was taunting her, but she had lost the ability to behold the dead many years ago. The truth had completely alluded her; this Charlotte was a pure hallucination, and the real one was careening out of the sky.

The hallucination gave another flap of her wings, smirking at the goddess before taking to the skies. Ita's jaw dropped open. A third barrage of spells roared through the air in rhythm to the Vala's battle cries, the projectiles much larger than before. But the only damage they managed to inflict was on small, localized areas of the tree canopy. "Charlotte" had long since disappeared into the leaves. Ita momentarily pondered taking on the form of a winged creature to pursue her hallucination, but her magical stores were so exhausted she dared not cast any further spells. With little mana and no weapon, the Goddess of Chaos was relatively defenseless. And that was when the Guard decided to strike again.

The Vala was narrowly missed by a large net that a guardsman had attempted to throw over her from the closest walkway to the branch she stood on. Ita's gaze moved up to the direction it had come from. Not to her surprise, a large group of archers and sword-wielding Yomeniampa Guards stood in a group at the edge. She then turned to the walkway above. The flames that had consumed it had been quenched, but it left the wood charred and a great gap burned away. The buildings who had been partially or completely suspended on that gap were also burned to the ground or collapsed.

Yomeniampa below was left in perfectly good shape, as would be expected. Ita turned back towards the guardsmen, who were yelling in the Sindarin tongue, presumably for her to submit and allow herself to be arrested. Being arrested would be a major setback for the Goddess, however. Charlotte was undoubtedly alive and not to be trifled with. Preparations would need to be made in order to ensure the valkyrie's demise.

The Goddess of Chaos pivoted and leaped off of the side of the Yomeniampa tree, loudly bellowing in laughter as she fell.

[OOC: Part 1 of 3, complete! All characters, please exit stage left. B) ]