HoH season 18. Source: valucre.net static Gaia dump.
As an arrow landed a good five strides a-head of him and started to glow with a red hue at the head, Garah Kirjearim pivoted on his right foot, circling clock-wise a-round Yusuke with approximately fifteen to twenty feet of space between the two of them. Garah's sword sliced through the air as he aimed it at Yusuke and continued to charge his special attack.*
**Chi Cannon* (two preparations)
Karne
Mistakes were made...
With his dull grey eyes focused on the pair approximately dozen feet ahead of him, Karne barely aware of the actions of the boy swordsman behind him. The whistle of sword cutting through the air, and the sensation of chi channelling towards a focal point as Karne stood just beyond the epicentre of disaster. Beginning to question...why
Moments earlier...
A moment of sympathy was the only conclusion Karne could use to justify his actions. The decision to intervene in the confrontation decided when the rambling man fiddled with the perception of time.
Magic surged through his arteries, feeding muscles alongside adrenaline as the Mage kicked off the pavement. A short dash that carried the man passed the swordsman and in line of the incoming stone. His gloved hand extending out to grasp the projectile before it could meet its mark.Karne's left arm reined backwards as his hand procured the stone, fingers coated in dull blue magic closing around the stone tightly until there was no visible trace.
With his enhancement magic fading from his limbs, Karne took a relaxed stance at the forefront of the quarrel. Trench coat still fluttering chaotically with the momentum of his previous moments, Karne turned his attention to the arrow. His heavy boot descending upon the arrow in a fashion similar to snuffing out a cigarette, the mages greyish blue magic pulsing outwards from his leather boot even as he twisted it into the pavement.
The whistling of a sword slicing through the air, keenly reminded Karne of the awkward position he had put himself into. Regret bubbling upwards and seeping into the forefront of his mind....confident in his decision....he wasn't.
His expression was neutral even as he laid his focus on the pair, his confidence portrayed in his relaxed stance. A dishonest display that was used to hid his physical exhaustion and gut wrenching pain. Unbeknownst to the world, Karne’s efforts to dash to the forefront had resulted in not only a drain on his mana reserves, but in tearing his stitches. Lacerations from earlier conflicts that had failed to heal completely now reopened with vigour. The mage clenched his teeth; pushing the pain into the back of his mind...trying his hardest to forget that the blood oozing from his body would stain his newly purchased dress shirt beyond saving. The true tragedy
"I had wrongly presumed a two on one was beneath individuals such as yourselves, but perhaps your sense of dignity and pride has faded alongside yourself respect. Karne jested. "With your allowance however, I would like to grant you an opportunity to regain a semblance of dignity. Post pone your idle chatter, and answer the challenge before you" Karne announced, his eyes focused on the bizarre male . Before shifting his gaze to the female in the group, "And you archer, I presume you are capable of more than tossing a feeble arrows a few measly feet. Perhaps you can enlighten us on the methods in this land" Karne "Unless you cannot proceed without further assistance?”
show spoilerhide spoiler For the sake of style and showmanship i did progress outside of the regular allowances. So of course i aspect there will be some addition consequences to earlier actions. I was however getting alittle tired of sitting back
Red the Ambivalent Wrote:
Haelikor Wrote:
Well now, a great many thing had happened, hadn't it?
In a nutshell: Omi had done his great deed.
Red Yusuke had fired a seemingly wayward arrow.
This odd sword wielding boy had... somehow failed to cover more than a few feet of distance while swinging his katana randomly at the air.
Ogelsby had withdrawn cowardly.
And some unknown wizard - mage? Warlock? Sorcerer, god only knew-- had popped in to halt the evil stone the red warrior Omi'd tossed with such ominous intent. What a hero! He had stopped the greatest execution technique on the planet!
"Hehehe..." Lurched forward the long, messy haired and half-masked man with shoulders shaking violently.
A rich voice began to pour from his lips, face suddenly exposed with sweat drenched down it top to bottom- a manic flash of brilliance. And so the mocking words began to flow like a strong wine:
"Brilliant my good fellow, but you have a few small things you may want to mull over first. I'll explain them in detail, our sword frenzied friend there isn't a real threat --- I'm Omi Barsait (Ah-me Bar-sate) by the way, pleasure! Well now." Despite this sudden friendly out-pour of energy, something had tired him out fiercely. The flush in his skin was telltale. And he suddenly had stopped paying attention to the oriental-blade wielder, presuming they'd trip and eat their own sword on top of the obvious trap Red had already deployed. Water under the bridge.
"What you just bravely leaped to stop was in fact.. nothing more than a rock I had in my pocket. It was not supernatural in any capacity nor am I a particularly skilled thrower of the earth-- least not to a level I could actually kill someone with a piece. So good job! You stopped me from casually tossing a rock and a piece of pocket lint or two I intended to bluff the boy down with. Truly a masterful display of arcane might on your part to burst out of the shadows and stop that pebble - your honor in preventing me from preventing a murder between these two was really-- really just MASTERFUL and teaches me all the integrity I must've lost over my years. The deep, DEEP shame I feel."
Sarcasm.
Dripped like an ocean current from every single word he spoke.
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.
Leaning forward now, his palms clapped together loudly and rang out across the parking lot -- eyes narrowed with a sneering snarky smile on display.
"You did it! Either a woman not consenting to a duel or a boy with some form of mental impairment are going to kill the other, you've wounded my honor as a soldier with your professional decorum. What was I thinking!? Tell me your name so- so I can just drink in your expertise boy."
Drip went the sweat.
Despite his banter, Barsait's body energy was getting extremely animated in contrast to the exhausted and gaunt repression of his facial features-- something here was wrong but... he was far too fixated on mocking the new arrivals to pay it any mind.
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Garah Kirjearim Wrote:
Red the Ambivalent Wrote:
Jam House Wrote:
Spooky Mittens Wrote:
Gustave Aodhart: *Not this s**t again. . .*
Somewhere off in the distance, a little orange boy was carried away in a glowing egg. Gustave witnessed this, just as his body was spat back out from The Blind Eternities and into the very same parking lot he'd tried to escape from. What kind of joke was this?
"I wanted to leave this place, what am I doing back here?"
He asked no one in particular. He had at first thought he'd chosen to return to a place in his memories. A land far off, with coastal towns and a wreath of mountain ranges. A cool atmosphere that rained often. Gustave simply couldn't seem to find his way back there. But why?
It took him a few moments to pull himself out of his own head. He was some way away from everyone else in the lot, far enough away to go unnoticed unless someone was looking for him in particular. When he started to take in his surroundings, he noticed something quite strange about his person. Namely, that he was currently holding a longsword, rather than the shield and mace he'd been carrying earlier. Strange, I could have sworn I gave this sword away? It was a weapon he hadn't seen in some years now. Perhaps whoever he'd given this sword to was the one pulling the strings right now?
The sword itself was rather unremarkable, save the fact that Gustave had forged it himself. It was a Type 20a sword, forty-five inches in total length with thirty-six inches of pure blade. The scabbard was highly decorative with bright red leather and gold filigree laid into it in the shapes of birds and dragons. The hilt of the sword was colored like brass, though it was made of wood and steel. Gustave drew his sword, holding it in his left hand and aiming it for the street before him. Two fullers carved parallel paths up the fat part of his sword beginning at the ricasso and merging into a single, shallower fuller near the middle. This sword differed from the man's more recent tastes in that it was not hollow ground. It still bore the same "S" shaped quillons and octagonal pear pommel he had come to love.
"Fate calls. I wonder who's on the other end of the line?"
He mumbled. Surely, any second now, someone was going to jump out of a back alley and issue a challenge. That's usually how this s**t worked.
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Dr Queensborough Wrote:
"Man, what a ****** st show this is."
A man in a suit of blackened plate armor stood on the curb overlooking the Parking Lot and the Crimson Hawk Hotel. And what he saw was madness. Absolute ******** madness. And even worse than that? It smelled like magic. He snorted and huffed. In his gauntleted hand he held a flier, something about a Heaven and Hell Reunion or something. It sounded like a band, or a three step program for recovering demon-slayers. But that guy that reeked of more woo-woo bullshit than half the magic covens he'd cleaned out had told him this was some kind of fighting tournament, or some kind of good time, or something.
He'd only wanted to get his sword sharpened, not get an earful, and the guy would just not shut up, going on and on about how much he wanted to compete, but couldn't. Something about "other legal obligations" or whatever, and something about "consequences" and "stolen royalties" and "unbreakable resolve." There was also something said about someone named "Moonblade", but he'd tuned out at that point. It sounded like some kind of fairy woo-woo elf boy and he wasn't going to bother with that stupid s**t. He'd paid for the sharpening and took the flier from the guy's hand. All he could say was that the guy had managed to sharpen his sword to within an inch of its life, and it was sharper than it had ever been.
But this? The complete slugfest that looked like a bunch of magic-flinging fruitcakes had crashed through a department store of ugly and started a turf war on their way to a parade, then gotten run over by some kind of flying craft and a car? This was not a tournament. It looked like a bunch of grabby a. Grabby a and insanity. Maybe the dude dressed like some kind of office clerk was a tally-keeper or something.
But there was one thing that made all this clear. There was a hotel across the parking lot, and that's where he had to go. Hotels had bars, bars had booze, and booze had a way of making things somehow make more sense. Either that or you wound up finding the fun parts. The only thing that stood between him and a good drink was the circus of calamity on the asphalt. According to the flier he had time before he had to try and register for anything, so he might as well get a room for the night if nothing else.
"This had better be worth it." He grumbled, stretched, stuffed the flier into a pack slung over his side, and started making his way through the outskirts of the madness.
Jay watched the cat cautiously as it smashed the top off the bottle and skulled the contents in one go, a wicked smile crept over her lips as she uncorked the bottle she held, tilting her head back to down a sizable portion of the burning liquid. The very scnet stug her eyes and nose, burning its way down her throat to her stomach, pulling it away with a satisfied gasp.
“Well then..” Words leaving the woman were coupled with the motion of her digging her heels into the side of the back seat and launching herself from the car towards the cat woman, the bottle changing to a faded colour as her touch activated. Jay would fly towards the cat with her right arm outstretched, the left hand holding the body of the bottle would come shooting forward to throw the weakened vessel at the cat. Aiming to have it and the remaining contents shatter and coat that soft fur coated body, if it connected the powerful scent akin to fuel would soak her and possibly mess with her senses.
Jay was basing this off the woman being a cat, a damn furry of all things, often more sensitive to smell than humans. Following the bottle her right hand would be aiming to grasp the cats left shoulder, her body following to aim her left knee at the creatures abdomen.
All in an attempt to force it to the ground with her on top.
Distraction Returns Wrote:
The half-demon god ran a-round Yusuke at a brisk pace, picking up speed as he sprinted at Omi Barsait. On the way, he dropped his sword and disconnected his arm plates and gourd, deciding to go in-to battle armor-less and bare handed. When he came with-in striking range of Omi, he stopped charging, rocking back and forth on his haunches with his elbows in and his hands held in front of his midsection. As he sized the other man up, he would notice any armor his new adversary wore, any weapons he carried on his person as well. Making fists with both hands, he threw a hard left, right, left combination at the warrior's temples.
Silver Alexander Wrote:
"Humm, you know what... I should let you get to work, interesting seeing you here Silver. Remember to watch your back." Raven said the last in a sing-song voice before turning back towards the parking lot with a swish of her hips.
Perhaps Athan would need healing again by now, or she could see about sticking a knife in Ebris when he wasn't looking... just for the fun of it 4laugh Enraging cavemen was one of her favorite pastimes after all.
So many interesting people had gathered to watch, and participate in the brawl, the redhead worked her way around the edges of the crowd, pick pocketing the unwary, and putting the stolen merchandise in the pockets of others. Still dressed as an EMT she didn't draw too much attention here.
Ryugi Kazamaru Wrote:
at the parking lot lol
Good tweet, good tweet.
Darkest Silver Wrote:> Jay would fly towards the cat with her right arm outstretched, the left hand holding the body of the bottle would come shooting forward to throw the weakened vessel at the cat. Aiming to have it and the remaining contents shatter and coat that soft fur coated body, if it connected the powerful scent akin to fuel would soak her and possibly mess with her senses. > > > > Jay was basing this off the woman being a cat, a damn furry of all things, often more sensitive to smell than humans. Following the bottle her right hand would be aiming to grasp the cats left shoulder, her body following to aim her left knee at the creatures abdomen.
Tekka was not slow enough to be caught off guard by something as predictable as a feint and follow-up. The angry woman threw the half-empty bottle at her and, though it was weakened enough to shatter at the lightest touch, Tekka was prepared for it to shatter regardless as the catlike woman backhanded the bottle with the metal plate on the back of her left fist. Predictably, the bottle shattered and although glass and acrid liquor showered her side and outstretched arm it did not tickle her nose quite as much as the "Gift" of the angry woman's outstretched hand.
Perhaps that was why Tekka had no desire to let the woman's outstretched hand touch her. The angry woman lunged and threw her right hand forward but Tekka already had her left out, and at their difference in height it was a small movement for Tekka to bring her hand up under Jay's elbow and push the arm inward while her head swayed to the outside just far enough to allow the small woman to step in and slam that bar glass in her right forward like a set of glass knuckles into the bridge of Jay's nose like a counterpunch.
The body weight behind the tackle would fall past Tekka's right side rather than on top of her, and she would quickly pivot on her left foot to bring her right around behind her in a half-circular step after the angry woman's lunge brought the two of them past each other.
Tekka had promised that they would play after her thirst was quenched and the angry woman had provided.
HonoRaven Wrote:> So many interesting people had gathered to watch, and participate in the brawl, the redhead worked her way around the edges of the crowd, pick pocketing the unwary, and putting the stolen merchandise in the pockets of others. Still dressed as an EMT she didn't draw too much attention here.
The armored swordsman spotted the buxom redhead wandering around the crowd, putting her hands into places he was pretty sure they didn't belong. Someone other than him might have given a s**t. But as it stood, everyone was a weirdo here, and he didn't have pockets. Plate armor had a way of not being pocket-friendly. Someone else could worry about the handsy woman. He just met eyes with her across the lot long enough to flash her a grin, wiggle his eyebrow in a sort of "Yeah, I see you over there lookin' fine." kind of way, and continued on through the crazy.
He paused as half a literal cat-fight tumbled by him, shook his head, and kept walking.
This place was totally off the wall. Why hadn't the peace-keeping forces been called to quiet this s**t down? Oh, maybe because they were all hyped up on magic juice, he decided. Course, they could always use those fancy firearms that were all the rage now, but again, maybe they weren't sure those would work on everyone here. Maybe they'd just make them madder. That and it wasn't likely they'd be able to puncture through even armor like his, and it wasn't oozing arcane energies like half the people here. He snickered inwardly.
"Heh... Means I might get a good fight after all. Maybe that chatty dude knew what he was talking about." He mused quietly to himself and hopped across the pavement to the hotel's entryway. Booze awaited...and a room. That too. And maybe registration.
So far, no one in the crowd had even noticed what Raven was doing... that sort of thing took a lot of the fun out of such tricks, but then a watcher across the lot caught her eyes and made her smile back at him... there was someone new, and interesting!
Ryugi Kazamaru Wrote:
With a grin, Hono'o followed the newcomer into the hotel, changing her guise with a touch of magic into a spaghetti strap black cocktail dress, it's hem only reaching halfway to her knees with a slit up its left side clear up to her hip, its neck line was low enough to make her chest quite eye catching, and the dress was also tight enough to leave very little to the imagination although it seemed to be made of some stretchy sort of material.
Raven's crown of fiery red braids was now partially let down so that the ends brushed her shoulders in soft waves, drawing attention to her very pale white skin, and the tiny amethyst studs glittering in her ears with a matching silver choker and a thumbnail sized teardrop amethyst around her slender neck.
Her very thin, flat soled, black sandals with their shiny satin ribbons wrapped around her ankles made no sound as she attempted to sneak up behind the man in the armor, intent on seeing if he was as aware of his surroundings indoors as outdoors... armor may not have pockets, but packs always had interesting things in them!
Epitome the Unblooded could wait no longer.
He pin-wheeled his arms for-ward and back-ward with an audible crack of bone, limbering up his muscles for combat. Then, he charged the interceder who placed his back to him, saying, "You are next, scatter-brains." His left arm spasmed beneath the sleeve of the unzippered black jacket he wore as the nanites in his flesh raced in-to it, summoning forth water which the epitomical super soldier care-fully bound with-in his fist using hydrokinesis.
When he reached Karne, Epitome opened his left hand, where an orb of spinning, translucent, sky blue fluid lay, rotating on an invisible axis like the earth. The rotating orb picked up momentum, screeching loudly as Epitome attempted to thrust it in-to the middle center of Karne's back.
Jam House Wrote:
Having patched himself up, Connor found a comfy spot to take a breather on the hood and some Chev-roh-let truck that still ticked as it cooled. Some skin was still raw from accelerated healing and his jaw aches something fierce but everything inside was mostly whole. Clothing was a bit of a wreck. The rags of his shirt he had discarded and the scars literally stitching his body as if holding him together were pale in the night.
“Better Than Gore” Wrote:> Fite me.
"Hey, aren't you Connor Kroww?!" A voice called out and the sound of quickly approaching footsteps soon followed. Upon locating the source of all the ruckus; a man holding a piece of paper and a pen was running toward him. With quite the display of excitement smeared across his face. Once he had came within touching distance, the man hunched over to catch his breath, almost wheezing. "You're one of those Heaven or Hell fighters, right?!" Despite being out of breathe, the man still displayed sheer excitement, it wasn't often that a famous Gaian was caught out in the open like this. Although unintentionally, Connor was about to meet one of his biggest fans, or so he probably thought.
"Can.. can I have your autograph, Mr. Kroww?!" More excitement, though he didn't dare look Connor in the eyes. Out of respect, of course. Instead, he simply offered the piece of parchment and pen to him. Still huffing and puffing.
Just a Kroww Wrote: