A fight scene I wrote to hopefully later animate. will lend itself well to a 2D frame by frame animation or perhaps a more stylised 3D approach the anime style VFX will be key regardless. This was inspired by watching the clone fight in Frieren: Beyond journeys end.
The sky is a stark white. Nyara looks across the dull grasslands, barren of all but pale, yellow grass and dried dirt. Lifting her gaze to the mountains she sees a dark sea of clouds rolling, slowly above the peaks.
She is watching for something.
A strong gust lifts her cloak and pulls at her loose hairs.
A small rodent scurries through the undergrowth beneath.
She remainsâa statue, undisturbed to the cold, eyes focused and alert.
She sees it. A flicker of light on a nearby ridge, looking like a torch light or mirror signalâonly growing brighter, bigger and getting closer.
Her shield is up in an instant, a flawless dome of solid light. The beam impacts in a waterfall of energy churning up the air around Nyara as she concentrates her mana into maintaining the barrier.
After a few seconds the beam cuts off and the air calms, the grass swirling in the wake. She stares upwards unruffled as the dark silhouette of her rival floats down from the ridge. Amara the Severant has arrived.
âYou picked a quiet spot. No humans to be harmed. You always cared about them, didn't you.â
Amaraâs voice is smooth, as it always has beenâyet with a probing undertone.
âAmara. It's been some time.â
âAlmost 80 years to the day. Alright let's get this over with thenâ
In an instant, both mages tenseâstaffs levelled, eyes locked, each trying to predict the otherâs opening move.
Tendrils of jagged light erupt from Amaraâs staff, rearing into the air like the legs of an angry spider before lashing toward Nyara in a multi-pronged assault.
Without a flicker of emotion, Nyara ducks and weaves, conjuring small shields with sharp, practiced motions to block the strikes she canât avoid. Nyara raises her staff to castâbut a stray beam catches it, jolting her aim before a spell can form. She is slowly being overwhelmed.
Amara smirks, pressing her advantage as tendrils twist and lash with greater ferocity.
Nyara reacts with a blast of pure mana, throwing the tendrils wide and buying herself a moment to breathe.
As they coil and descend again, all at once, she plants her feetâgripping her staff tightly, forcing herself to wait.
At the last possible moment, she surrounds herself in a complete orbâtiming it perfectly to trap the tendrils, just behind the head. They haltâtrapped mana-infused tips quivering inches from her skin.
Before Amara realizes whatâs happening, Nyara fires a bolt down each tendrilâlike lightning surging through wireâall racing back to the source: Amara.
