The creature turned around, lashing wildly, his eyes challenging the creatures who watched him. Sneering in contempt not just at the humans, but also at the xeno scum who cowered. His tail wrapped around the leg of the headless elf vampire, just above the foot. Barring his bloody maw towards them before he turned back.
There, there was a man who wasn't cowering. He could see him. The smile returned to his face. A Man who was worthy. He started off towards Tres, waiting for his sky ride towards nicer places, dragging the headless corpse behind him. He moved at a slow pace, but with purpose, his eyes never leaving Tres's form.
Captain Euphidius of the Canaan Raider Guild appeared like some sort of paladin. Glistening white armor, golden blonde hair that mixed in an interesting way with his caramel brown desert kissed skin and wide brilliant blue eyes. He wore a flamberge with a ornately designed hilt and wickedly curling blade at his back in a oiled leather holster at his back like some sort of hero. The truth of the matter was however that Euphlidius was just some thug who used his parents money to buy all his friends cool armor. However, with the pomp and righteousness in his posture and walk you would never know who he really was.
"Excuse Me", a pretty voice called out from behind the white armored faux knight before he and the men accompanying him turned around. He turned around and looked down at the winged girl with his chin held high. Even though he found her attractive he would never let on to his nervousness through his thick facade of confidence and pride. He eyed her along with his men with a look of dismissiveness, "I've no money to treat prostitutes. Unless you work on credit", His men laughed at the joke but in his mind he was going; '********!' and he recited what he said in his head a hundred times sure he was about to be slapped. His act as this holier-than-thou night had just likely screwed up his chances with an amazing woman who was probably some kind of celestial. His eye quivered and he lowered his head preparing his face for the impending smack.
Tres had been forced to watch what was going on down the street as he waited for the next cab to come pick him up. The ******** up thing was, was that Tres had seen s**t similar to this during his time on the abyss but the way the vampires body was mutated was somewhat new to him. Tres's father had once told him about this 'thing' he encountered once that was a being 'of disease' and that the energies that came from him were 'all wrong'. Tres wondered if this thing that was causing such as spectacle was similar.
As the cream colored warrior stood there trying not to be too interested in what was going on as not to attract the monster, his seemingly irreverence to the situation rather than fear brought him the exact kind of attention that he didn't want. There was this short moment where Tres and the single winged creature just kind of stared at each other. Maybe it was the fact that Tres didn't flinch when he saw his gaping bloody maw or maybe it was the calm disposition made by his hands resting in his pockets...but Tres knew...and the creature knew...that s**t was about to go down.
Now any other day tres would fight the thing, but he knew now that he was still recovering from his injuries from his earlier battle against the orc but Tres knew he wasn't going to be able to put him down without more rest.
Tres squared up, spreading his stance and bending his knees just slightly to ready himself to run move. All the while Tres gripped his right arm, fingering the modified bracer given to him by his mother and focusing psionic energy through it and the rest of his arm. Whisp of ectoplasm and tendrils of psionic power coalesced about his muscular right forearm and his eyes glowed with a bright intensity similar to phosphorous. He focused on manifesting a means of defense against the beast that he knew would soon be upon him.
[Focus Ability - 6 power points]
This ability requires that Tres recognize his mind as the most beautiful and deadly thing in all of creation. With that state of mind he is able to focus his mental energy throughout his arm and produce in his grasp a blade of shimmering psionic energy. The appearance of the blade is that of a katar usually about the length of his forearm. The color and design of the blade is dependent upon his state of mind at the time.
If Tres is calm and at piece with himself, then the blade will appear to be a grey somewhat translucent crystalline structure. If he is angry, the blade will appear to be a red field of chaotic warping energy. This Psi-Knife has the hardness of a steel blade and can be broken if it is sufficiently damaged. If the blade is broken it dissipates and must be manifested again. The blade also dissipates if Tres lets go of it. Sense the blade is a katar, it protects the forearm of the arm that wields it. Because the blade is made from psionic energy not only can it cut through flesh and physical objects, but it can also do damage to immaterial and ethereal enemies as well.
The blade not only does damage to a person's body as any blade would, but the blade delivers a harsh mentally jarring shock of psychic energy that makes it dificult for a person to concentrate and ignore the pain of the wound.
Those golden hued eyes widened in shock as she moved a hand to her chest, her eyebrows knitting together as she bit her bottom lip. Pretending to be hurt by the comment, her long brown locks fell across her face as she looked away. "Your words sting if you believe that I am some mere prostitute, Sir." She said, turning those glossy golden eyes back on his face. "If my armor does not give it away, then surely my wings do." She spoke lightly, and her hand left her chest as she placed her gauntlet on the shaft of her sword, resting it there as she let her eyes travel over the man and his men. "Perhaps you and your men should make it up to me, perhaps buy me a drink or two down at The Nine Swords?" She grinned, giving them the most charming smile she could manage.
Such a pretty Angel in such a shady part of town, yet the Market saw a lot of people go through. She had no purchases with her it would seem, not that it mattered - perhaps this Holy woman had just been browsing while she rested in the City of Sigil. "Or would asking for your company be too much from this Angel of God?" She questioned, shaking her head some and tossing her hair back from her golden eyes.
"I don't have a name. Just what everyone likes to call me. They call me Kire Shirome. Hell if I know if that's true." He said with some manner of sadness. It was true Kire was simply a mess and jumble of demons, humans and a mess of races molded around each other with a single dominate soul that links him. Suffering from the Naraku syndrome. However, unlike the Naraku syndrome Kire was indeed at one point a magus who practice magics and then..... But, that's neither here or their. He lifted the sample of dragonweed. Using a stick match to light the end, and well ahhhh yeahhh.
"Really, man that guy was a hero to many people. Even myself back in the day. s**t, I'm old if I can remember that. So, what's the buzz about this son?" He asked with a calm voice. He has a very good resistance to narcotics and alcohol. But, it never stopped him because he loved the feeling he got from getting kicked in the face with something like this.
His mouth opened wide, and he screamed out towards Tres, "AWAKEN SON OF MAN! AWAKEN TO YOUR POWER! SHOW ME YOUR DESTINY! FIGHT AND KILL!"
His steady pace broke out into a predatory lope towards Tres, his wing stretched out to his left, steadying him up. His right hand held his staff out towards his side, the twisted curled thing gripped tight not only in his vaguely human hand, but also with the tentacle below his arm curled around the bottom of the staff. He picked up momentum, breaking into a full charge towards the psychic warrior.
"I know right. My clanfather tells me that Sieg was actually a friend of his and that the man was most comfortable training his martial arts in the deserts. Now his son on the other hand, his son fell far from the tree. I've met him.
He isn't anything like his dad. Sure he can throw a punch but otherwise he is known around Sigil as a two bit hood. Sieg and Athena raised him here you know, but he got caught up with the wrong crowd down by the Hive.
They say he just come back from some sort of journey.", The reptillian merchant said as he broke down the dragon weed and bagged it up carefully, using a small electronic scale.
The Lecherous group of the fantasy equivalent to frat boys all bore lecherous grins when she said "Angel of God". Whole businesses were made in Sigil based on the far spread fantasy of having relations with a Celestial. This was a fantasy shared by men of all races, due to it being widely recognized that most celestial females are chast for life and but are unnaturally beautiful. "Well you know what, I think I may have misjudged. You are a fair lady and it is only proper that we treat you as such.", the blonde haired leader would extend out his arm to intertwine with hers so that he could lead her to the nine swords. All of the men would attempt to touch some part of her as they made their way to the nine swords.
Tres was a trained fighter and though his reactions were predictable they were highly effective and efficient. His psi-knife came into life as a crystalline blade about as long as Tres's forearm. Tres was trying to remain calm before the frightening might of his ever nearing opponent and so his blade appeared as a slightly transparent grey straight pointing double edged blade. Throughout its complex crystaline matrix tendrils of white psionic threads would pulse with white burst of energy looking like some sort of miniature super highway.
Tres showed his defensive posture immediately as his three armed opponent broke out into a dash towards him. The opponent wielded his weapon on his right side in his two right arms and the knock out power was on that side. The other obvious weapon he had was his mouth. So in that case, Tres responded with lateral movement to his right shifting to a right side stance, southpaw with his left arm held up high in front of his face in defense and his right hand psi-katar wielding fist pointed forward towards the opponents abdomen and cocked back with the elbow behind his right ribs.
Already mostly convinced that he was going to try and run away, he didn't want to turn his back and high tail it because often that could prove to be a bigger mistake than outright fighting, but he needed to feel this creature out and determine his attack patterns.
Tres utilized footwork that was...Impossible...The shuffling movement of his feet accompanied a bounce that did not match the speed and direction of his movement. This was a footwork technique used by the monks of zuoken that combined the footwork made famous by muhammud Ali with psionic power to create a superior method of mobility that allowed one to perfectly set up punches and kicks.
[Free Action - 2 points]
Tres begins to skate along the ground by padding his feet with ectoplasm and controlling his physical movement with subtle psionic thrust. Tres actually is even in more control of his momentum during this movement and can turn and twist while moving at running speeds in a way that isn't physically possible when actually running. He can stop on a dime or suddenly accelerate, moving with the sheer power and speed of will. This ability last for six turns.
Tres would move in a curving path to his right that would place Tres on the weaponless left side of his opponent in which he would snap out towards the opponents collar with a right handed jab attempting to disable the wing limb on that side. The attack may have been a jab but the psionic knife was unnaturaly sharp and threatened to sever the muscles that worked the outstretched wing.
He would wait to collect his pound, and the wraps. He took a nice inhale from the dragon weed. He would seem to think on the subject. It why this place felt so familiar. It was a town most likely held the legendary hero, and a woman he rather no mess with on any day of the week. The fiend seemed to be calm.
"The hives is my next stop then. You keep selling this good stuff, I'll be back maybe even for another story or two." The way he said story was as if he was talking about the information. Kire seemed to like making these kinds of connections. He was fit for a mafia life style anyway.
"Alright man, I hope to see you back. Stay safe." the merchant said as Kire walked away heading for the Hive. It was a dangerous place but especially someone like him would know that people had their reasons for wanting to go there.