Storm v The Morrigan – Bar Brawl Hardcore Match

[hamish1024]

Suffering the opening spinebuster seemed to have left Storm with a desire to over-compensate. She remained in all-out attack, leaping forward and clotheslining the Morrigan, who seemed somewhat taken aback by the Scot’s desire to prove herself up to the challenge of a hardcore match.

Morrigan was also literally taken back, surging forwards just at the wrong time to get hit with the full force of the flying clothesline. Storm felt the reassuring smack on flesh of a successful move, followed by the slightly unexpected crunch into the table.

Which exploded into a shower of debris beneath Morrigan’s back.

The heavyweights thudded down to the hard floor together, in a shower of splinters. Fortunately for Storm, she had Morrigan beneath her to cushion the fall, which took the edge off the jarring impact.

“Shit, I broke another table? I’m going to get a reputation,” she quipped, allowing herself a smile as she maneuvered herself into a domineering straddle atop her downed opponent.

Storm considered her repertoire of ground holds, but remembered this was a brawl, not a bout. Respecting this fact, the ascendent Scotswoman held Morrigan’s head down, with a push to her lightly-bloodied brow, took a seat on her chest, and started firing down targeted face punches with her balled right fist.

[BlackAkuma]

Credit to Storm, she’d turned this around in a hurry. When the match had started off, Morrigan had been afraid - okay, not ‘afraid’, but concerned - that she would steamroll the woman throughout the match without much trouble. The Morrigan had fought enough big bitches to know that they tended to fold when they came up against a bigger bitch, and she was about as big of a bitch as they came. She would still wipe the floor with Storm without regrets, but she was hoping to get some challenge out of it.

Not even two minutes later and she was on the floor, bleeding from her forehead, putting through a table, with a raging Scotswoman on top of her. How was that for a challenge?

It probably said a lot about the instinct she’d built up as a wrestler that she half-expected her opponent to go for some fancy submission move next. Yeah, this was a bar brawl, but it wasn’t like there was a rule against it. Sabine certainly would.

No, Storm had something a little more straightforward in mind. The Morrigan grunted as he her head was held down, and here came the punches - sharp, heavy, hammering blows to her skull, each one ramming her skull against the floor. Her body jerked about with each hit, and the damage was mounting fast. She needed an out.

There was only way she could see, and that was with brute force. After taking the third - maybe fourth? - shot to the face, Morrigan planted her heels, bridged up hard, and tried to hurl Storm off with an explosive burst, trying to send her rolling away so she could create space.

[hamish1024]

If ‘bar brawls’ were a gap on Storm’s CV, she certainly seemed to be making up for lost time, enthusiastically straddling the floored Morrigan and starting a series of mounted punches.

Having that muscular body down between her thighs felt good. Storm blinked, and tried not to get distracted at the thought, throwing down another hard punch to that pretty face, almost as if to push it out of her mind.

“Enjoying the dance, love?” Storm couldn’t help but quip between blows. She could feel the influence of the whisky on her aggressive actions now. The brunette could handle her booze, and she wasn’t exactly drunk, but coupling spirits with scrapping was somewhat new for her, and she hadn’t expected it to hit her as quickly, as the spike of adrenaline pushed the alcohol round her system, leading to a much faster buzz than she had bargained for. As a result, her punches were harder and less focused, though this was largely a problem for Morrigan right now; Storm was breaking into a sweat as she managed several unanswered attacks.

Unsurprisingly, the Irish woman soon tired of this treatment. Her counter was strong and smart; Storm was almost impressed as she found herself thrust off of her, pitched forwards in a clumsy roll by Morrigan’s powerful bridge.

“Ow!” Storm complained as her shoulders thudded onto the floor, strewn with the wreckage of the table. Maybe she should have gone for a tighter submission move, although given the mess of fragmented wood on the floor, that would have increased the risk of splinters.

“In my defence, I did not expect the table to break like that…” she mused, clambering back to her feet. She turned to grab a rough hold of Morrigan’s dark hair, harshly ‘helping’ her opponent up in payback for the earlier hair pull.

[BlackAkuma]

While Morrigan didn’t advertise it, she firmly fit in the ‘switch’ category - that was to say, she could get off on being dominated just as well as doing the dominating. It wasn’t something she was ashamed of, exactly, but it was rare for her to find someone who could really do it for her. Sort of the consequence of being a giant, muscular Irish goth chick with a burn-out eye. Nothing about her really screamed ‘bottom’.

But with Storm on top, pummeling her face into oblivion, she had to admit, it was doing something for her. At least, that was the general feeling she got, in the brief moments in between blows where she was sensible enough to process such things.

It wasn’t something she intended to endure forever, though, and she was relieved when she managed to hurl the Scot off and send her rolling, creating some space. Even through her haze, she knew that would only be a temporary - Storm wouldn’t be giving her space for long. She needed an equalizer, before things got further out of her control.

She found it as Storm came back in and seized her by the hair. The Morrigan’s fumbling hands wrapped around something small and metallic - a napkin holder, probably from the table they’d obliterated. She gripped it tight, clutched it in her hand hard enough to bend the metal.

The Morrigan had only risen halfway when she burst into action, swinging wide to clock Storm in the side of her face with the object. Harsh, unforgiving aluminum against a human face? No contest.

[hamish1024]

Storm had been surprised at the forcefulness with which Morrigan had bucked her away. Sure, the Irish woman was big and muscular, but she’d also been taking a fair beating – first with the barstool, then ploughed through a table, before finally facing a barrage of Storm’s fists.

Storm knew they hadn’t been weak punches, either. She had enough confidence in herself to know she hit hard, but Morrigan, whilst fazed, had still managed to shrug them off, and make it look fairly effortless into the bargain.

‘So, she’s a big girl, and she *can* take it,’ Storm noted as she started to hairpull her opponent off the ground, her mind racing for ways that she could ramp up the punishment levels here. Unfortunately for her, she did not get to finish those delicious thoughts.

The explosion of violence happened faster than Storm could process it. A blur of movement, and the brunette found herself knocked on her ass, clutching a red welt on the side of her face. Whatever it was, it had left a mark.

“Whuhh…” she spluttered dumbly, wincing as the pain from the disorienting blow belatedly began banging on her skull. Storm literally had no idea what just happened, which worryingly hinted at a mini-blackout from the heaviness of the hit.

Her aching face suggested a weapon of some kind. She didn’t know if Morrigan had managed to improvise it, or had smuggled something in. Storm shook her head hard, realising she needed to focus on more important matters. Namely, the black-haired babe was now standing over her, and presumably, still armed.

Storm grit her teeth and tried to scrabble upright, ignoring the sharp debris of the shattered table digging into her legs. Shaking, she knelt, and started to push up onto unsteady feet. Sensing she was in trouble here, she raised her fists defensively, trying to protect her face from another ruinous attack.