Sigil: T.C.o.D - [Walk-In][Modern Fantasy: Cycle 32][O/A]

[Glory Sieg]

Gloria simply smiled at Charisma and Lovi. She would've found something to say, but the door opened and two more men entered the room. She knew the detective, Edward, by reputation only and even that wasn't much to go by. And the French man was a completely new face to her.

But he seemed to know Lovi. Suddenly Gloria felt like the odd duck out.

In the only bit of usefulness she had, she let her mind fold in on itself. Tres was in a coma, but she still knew how to touch base with him. Their bond had been so unused over time, it had gone from a bridge they used to walk to naught more than a tight rope.

~Tresondros....~ The fleeting call strummed the bond like a over-taut guitar string. The responding sound was discordant and sharp, as if it didn't travel the whole length. ~Tres?~

She would've completely supplanted an avatar of herself into his consciousness, but even as she tried, a red wave of anger washed over her. It was odd, she'd never felt that color coming from him. He was always a green or a blue. Jealousy and avarice for power, but anger had never been part of it.

Opening her eyes, she pulled back form the connection just slightly. She couldn't be sure he was aware it was her poking at the back of his head, and didn't want to trigger any defenses he might've had.

With a frown, she looked back at the others, who probably didn't notice or care about her mental endeavors.

"All poisons have an antidote. Where is it and how do we get it is all that matters."

[Eternal_Slumberer]

Market Ward

A small flame erupted from beneath her fingers. The cue was taken and the tip of the cigarette was ignited with a simple inhale. Smoke shot out from parted lips which shut quickly over the butt of the rolled tobacco stick. Raphael breathed in deeply, the cherry brightening by the millisecond until it glowed a deep orange.

"Thanks," he said, a puff of gray escaping as he spoke. "Mine went out a month ago and I haven't found a place to refill it."

After expelling the contents of his lungs away from the woman he removed the cigarette from his lips once more. "The reason I'm here," he began, looking back through the window, "is for a close friend. I haven't seen her in a while and thought I might bring her a gift."

[Trexasle]

((I hope you didn't forget about Terrance's arm Camfag.))

Terrance Vanguard

The Elbow block was just enough to stop Terrance’s attack; the problem was that he hit the wrong arm. He hit the right arm, the same right arm that was replaced with a metal prosthesis. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea with anything else, but this wouldn’t be the man’s time. He watched the arm drop don and wrap around his neck, a great diversion on the man’s part. Terrance struggled to get out of the choke but was suddenly pulled in for a knee strike. The left arm of his however was still open to grab said knee. He moved that arm up and proceeded to grab behind the knee.

Terrance was not a strong person so there wasn’t much he could do, However, his mind raced to find a logical counter to take this man down…wait…Take this man down. His eyes widened, he used his right leg to sweep under his oppositions in an attempt to force him to the ground. He was back in the saddle and he was going to finish this man off if it killed him.

It would take a while to attempt the takedown due to the way that the man was next to it, He was going to have to attempt with all of his strength, At least by sweeping him it would give him a better chance at going down. He just needed the ample amount of body strength to force his opposition to the side, it wouldn't take much, but because of the position it might be easier for his opposition to escape.

[The Duke of Id]

Tenkai Matsumoto

Fierach

_________The sword would be given back to him by Hidemitsu. Nikamaru's hands grabbed the sword, left hand on the blade, right hand on the handle. He'd then grab the leather scabbard and sheathe the huge sword, then place it on the floor while he heard the smith out, turning his face to look at the man to show he was paying full attention.

_________He was glad to see that Hidemitsu already liking his father. Many times he had heard that he was the spitting image of his father in terms of personality... except maybe he was a bit more radical than his father. It was a trait he had rubbed off of from a dwarven friend of his. When the Japanese man mentioned he may have assumed about being the best blacksmith in that town back in Atlas, he kind of recoiled. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he wasn't the best... but one thing was for sure: he wasn't even given a chance to be considered back at that place as even top ten. The prejudice was enough to make him want to strangle them. But Mr. Hidemitsu went on to appreciate his work, and then, finally, reveal his own story.

_________Nikamaru was taken a bit aback by the idea that his name was similar to that of a faraway land called 'Japan'. It was interesting that such naming conventions would go as far as to different planets. Perhaps it was an ancient Vapieran colony? He would have to ask his father later, who knew more about these kinds of things than he did. Cultures from other dimensions seemed to be very... similar in almost every way to his own. It couldn't be coincidence... could it? Nikamaru was lost in these thoughts, and had completely lost track of the conversation until the older man took out a pack of cigarettes and asked what Nik thought was a rhetorical question. He'd still answer, out of politeness. "Uh... oh! No, not at all." Smoking was a bad habit, but he was no one to judge. He did indulge taking a drag from a cigarette every other month or in special occasions.

_________Sigil was indeed a good place to open shop, Nikamaru thought. It was why the IPC was here. It was why a lot of companies were here, too -- and a lot of blacksmiths! Yes, a lot of variety, definitely, just like Hidemitsu described. Atlas had a lot of interdimensional variety too, and was very similar to Sigil, but Sigil definitely took the price for variety. But before he could continue that train of thought, the experienced smith showed Nikamaru the Yatagarasu.

_________The young man took the sword and looked at it. He had seen similar styles of swords before in his time traveling Atlas, but never quite as simplistic. It was very quaint, but it held some amount of respect. He nodded to the man's ushering to unsheathe it, and did so. A fine blade slid from the confines of the wooden scabbard. Long, and slim, yet much more simple than an elven blade. "Curved and single-edged. Made for slashing... It's rather small and light. This is supposed to be a short sword, right?" Nikamaru asked absentmindedly as he continued to inspect the sword. He set down the scabbard on the floor, proceeding to lift the sword up to his eye level, his right hand palm carrying the flat of the blade to prop it up, his left hand holding the hilt. He looked across the edge of the blade to look at its grain and appraise it. "This is a type of steel...? It's..." Nikamaru stopped himself from commenting on steel. The materials he used were several grades stronger than steel, but he realized he shouldn't divulge that even if it were true lest he insult the material or the blacksmith that made it. He'd instead focus on the technique and shift his commentary that direction, where he could find places to extract honest praise from. "...hmmm... The technique for smithing has its similarities to my own but... it has obvious differences, I can tell that much. It's... wow, it's good. It's damn good! Is this blade tampered in layers? It's impressive."

_________At this point Nikamaru was lost in the blade. His blue eyes would search the grain, the molding points, the smallest grooves on the blade. He'd look for any chips on the blade, or perhaps the fusion of different metals other than steel. It was clear to see that Nikamaru had a natural affinity for this sort of thing. He had been just about raised to tell the details in fine craftsmanship. Ever since he had unsheathed the weapon his eyes had not left the sword. He had seen the blades from afar, but hadn't had the chance to inspect one up close. And now he could see what Hidemitsu was all about... and why the dwarves called this blade brittle and elven-looking. But even if it was, there was a certain majesty to it that he couldn't argue. Even if this material was softer than that of dwarven smithing, the technique was superb.

[Ruthless Pulse]

Market Ward

With all the fuel she carried for her work, she probably could refill it for him. Alas, my things aren’t with me. The thought nagged at her, having to trust some corporate company to deliver everything to a place she hoped still existed.

The flame out, she tucked the lighter back in her pocket. ”I swear, I coulda pegged you for a cross-dresser.”

”So you haven’t seen your friend for a while. You think you’ll see her soon enough to give her a gift?” An honest question meant no harm. Some people disappeared. In fact, she herself disappeared. Something with zombies, The Hive, and running around on rooftops. Fun, but not my cup of tea.

[Tres Ecstuffuan]

Glory Sieg

Gloria simply smiled at Charisma and Lovi. She would've found something to say, but the door opened and two more men entered the room. She knew the detective, Edward, by reputation only and even that wasn't much to go by. And the French man was a completely new face to her.

But he seemed to know Lovi. Suddenly Gloria felt like the odd duck out.

In the only bit of usefulness she had, she let her mind fold in on itself. Tres was in a coma, but she still knew how to touch base with him. Their bond had been so unused over time, it had gone from a bridge they used to walk to naught more than a tight rope.

~Tresondros....~ The fleeting call strummed the bond like a over-taut guitar string. The responding sound was discordant and sharp, as if it didn't travel the whole length. ~Tres?~

She would've completely supplanted an avatar of herself into his consciousness, but even as she tried, a red wave of anger washed over her. It was odd, she'd never felt that color coming from him. He was always a green or a blue. Jealousy and avarice for power, but anger had never been part of it.

Opening her eyes, she pulled back form the connection just slightly. She couldn't be sure he was aware it was her poking at the back of his head, and didn't want to trigger any defenses he might've had.

With a frown, she looked back at the others, who probably didn't notice or care about her mental endeavors.

"All poisons have an antidote. Where is it and how do we get it is all that matters."

The Mind Plane

The shrill whisper of psionic contact made from grand mental leaps and bounds touched the astral body of the warriors conscious as it drifted lazily through the oddly bleak void of his own mind. What was usually a place of dreams and fancy had been rendered barren as his body focused its mental and physical energies upon recovery.

The dreaded warrior turned his head upon his crystal island, looking around desperately for contact. Though he could see into the farthest reaches of his own mind, he saw nothing past the ever expanding red wave like echoes of his recent expression of anger and fury.

Tres had been isolated by his own anger and it frustrated him. He had lost the control that separated a psion from a wilder and his circumstances were not improving. His frustration caused his fury to fester like a mental cancer.

After finally losing hope that he would have some help in escaping the prison of unconsciousness, he turned to face forward again and continued to reflect in meditation on all that had happened.

[Some Nights]

Trexasle

((I hope you didn't forget about Terrance's arm Camfag.))

( There's a turnbuckle behind him, Jardo. )

[Trexasle]

Some Nights

Trexasle

((I hope you didn't forget about Terrance's arm Camfag.))

( There's a turnbuckle behind him, Jardo. )

((Which would change nothing, if anything he'd just have to back up to take your character down, besides you never written that, at least not in the post I responded to, I can assume it never happened..))

[Some Nights]

(No, I said he stumbled back into the turnbuckle two or three posts ago after the elbow.)

[Trexasle]

Some Nights

(No, I said he stumbled back into the turnbuckle two or three posts ago after the elbow.)

(Ahh, I see, I'll fix the post, but I don't think the turnbuckle will stop the take-down, it'll certainly subdue it however I'll let you figure out how however.))

[Zerogamer]

The Streets

After hitting the streets for a while and doing some prying I find a few potential names to help train my powers, something at the very top of my priority list. I almost don't want to check out this first guy. Tres...something. His last name was pronounced at least 10 different ways, none of them exactly sounding very correct. Apparently he was some sort of show boating wrestler who thought he was the top dog. It sounded like this wrestler was confusing his persona with his real life, and I hoped it was that. If this guy was crazy that would be a whole other story. However I also hoped it really was just a stage presence he perpetrated to make himself look good. Whatever the case though he was a also, apparently, an expert at psionic powers. As soon as I decided on it I felt the pull of my powers and saw him. He was sleeping apparently, or passed out. I couldn't be sure, but I did know where he was now. I began to make may way to his location, hoping he wasn't to busy to offer his help.

[Ruthless Pulse]

Market Ward

Leaving the stranger to contemplate the gift to his close friend, Roxanne strolled on. Who does a girl gotta talk to to rent some space? She needed to set up shop, but she first needed a place to stay. Man, a shop with an apartment above it would be perfect..

Although she was trying to kick the habit, she pulled the squished pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket. s**t. Don’t be broken. The stress of reacquainting herself with Sigil was reason enough for her to need a smoke. Fishing through the packet, she plucked up a cig and placed it between her lips. A small flame from her purple lighter lit up the end as she drew a breath in.

Exhaling heavily through her nose, she eyed down the Market Ward and shrugged off the creeping helpless feeling. Not like I’m going unarmed, she thought, reassuring herself.

Armed and homeless. Peachy.

[Ruthless Pulse]

Market Ward

Rox looked across the shop, boxes stacked on top of one another. Her arms folded over her chest as she surveyed, imagining what she would put where. It won’t be the same, but it’ll work. Footsteps sounded down the stairs from her new apartment, but her mind was elsewhere. Register there, cases there, pit in the back, f-

THWACK!

”s**t! What the hell?”

”You ignored me,” explained Emma with a shrug.

”Couldn’t possibly do that, you move like a friggin’ elephant.”

”b***h.”

”Slut.”

"Whore."

"At least I'm not givin' it for free!" Another slug to her shoulder left Roxanne with a dead arm. "Alright, alright, I missed you too," she said with a grin that lit up her face. She pulled her sister over and draped her other arm over her shoulders. "What'd you do to your hair, anyway?"

Emma's brows rose up high, looking to Rox scandalously. "What the hell did you do to yours?" She yanked the purple mess lightly ",You have no excuse to ask."

Exaspperated already, Em pulled out a cigarette and placed it to her lips. Before she could light it, it was plucked away. Rox nodded towards the door and began to head outdoors. Hell, when'd she get so picky about that? With a short huff, she followed her sister out the door and locked it behind her. Once outside, she found her sister smoking the same cigarette she fished out for herself.

"What would you do without me?"

"Have quite a lot less headaches."

[Fierach]

Guildhall Ward:

James looked over the nearly-empty apartment.

He had been clearing out his Sigil residence, preparing to sell it. The apartment was good as new, with the bare minimum of furniture left in. Nobody would've even suspected it used to be a safehouse for a daemonslayer. He didn't need it anymore after the recent conclusion to the Scarlet Suns. A grim smile came over him as he recalled storming the sky-fortress with nine others and tearing the entire organization apart in the space of a day.

His promise to avenge Griff Morivan complete, it was time to move on and return to his wandering lifestyle. It was both a blessing and a curse. On on hand, James would never really lack for something to do, and on the other, he was doomed to battle in an endless war till the day of his death.

And he remembered the consquences when he didn't heed the call well enough.

He sighed and sought a distraction. Perhaps a walk in the Market Ward would do him some good, he could put the news that this apartment was on sale up there too. .

James was dressed in his "normal" gear. Looking casual from a distance, it was a deception. His bomber jacket covered up a small armory, and a reinforced vest and harness over a taut shirt. Even his shoes and fingerless gloves were armored on closer inspection. A sword was sheathed in the small of his back out in the open as the only truly visible indication of being armed.

Time to see what trouble he could find to preoccupy himself.

[Riden Rokoshin]

Fierach

If you never want your story to be forgotten...

[ ~ ]


~ + - + - + ~

The light taps of metal making soft contact with the stone pavement that made the walkways of the city could be heard as Riden moved throughout the city streets. His movements would pause just slightly as his gaze shot upward for a moment, taking in the view of the cloudy sky over head. Riden paused in thought as his fingerless gloved hands tucked themselves into the folds of his dark pants.

"Hm.. It’s getting late"

The calmly spoken man would say as his bright blue eyes dropped down to a more leveled out view as he began to wonder about where he would be staying for the night. The dark haired assassin would snort quietly as he spat out at the ground besides him, wondering how his travels would always drag him out to such places like this. He would wait no longer, continuing his relaxed stride towards the onward, each step creating the repetitive metallic taps from the metal plate lining his heel, along with the sound of his Mark XIX Desert Eagle brushing against one of the sets of miniature throwing knives sewn along the seams of his pants.

His steps would be cut short however as he made contact with a stranger [ Fierach ], taking a step back as he realized they had bumped shoulders by mistake. Usually, Riden would immediately explode on a stranger over such a small thing as this, though he was acting slightly cautious, something that he usually wouldn’t bother with and would otherwise see as trivial. If it wasn’t for the fact that the flesh on his side wasn’t still raw and he lacked access to his stolen Tekajin, he would feel a bit more comfortable. Though his comfort levels weren’t at preferred settings, he would rather not let recent events hold him back from his travels. If he did, then his father would have truly gotten the best of him that night.

A light sigh emitted from Riden’s smooth lips as he tried to shake away such thoughts, reassured by the eighteen small daggers holstered away in small tight groups along his pant legs. As if he needed more, he also had his Eagle secured on his hip along with one of his Light Blades retracted down into what looked like a small pole attacked to the back of his belt in a horizontal fashion. Riden did not look like the part of one to be ******** with to say the lease as he wore only his black tank top that he would usually wear his colored shirt over, exposing his very strong well-built upper body.

"Tch," Riden muttered as he continued forward, not caring if he hit the shoulder of the stranger again as he moved onward as if James wasn’t even standing there anymore; simply bracing himself to move him if they were to make contact again. The fresh thoughts of his b*****d of a father had quickly taken effect on his attitude, and he wouldn’t give it a second thought if his attitude would rub someone the wrong way.

~ + - + - + ~

[ ~ ]

Write it in blood.