The City of Durem - A GM Thread ♦ WALK-IN/OPEN

[themightyjello]

themightyjello

The masked man turned, shaking his head slowly from side to side as he walked to the corner of the building he had just leaped from and turned down the alley there. He would need to find another source of information about this city.

MagnusXL

"Watch where you're going, punk."

With complete disregard towards the person he slammed into, the strangely dressed tengu

didn't make it more than two shuffling, chicken-footed steps toward the other end of the alley before the masked man turned in an instant and thrust a heavy kick at the bird creature's back; right where the bulge of the pack he wore was sticking out the back of that hodgepodge outfit. The masked man kicked at him like he was kicking in a door, aiming to shove the bird beak-first into an open dumpster just ahead of where it was walking.

"Speak with respect, dumpster chicken." The masked man's voice came hollow from behind the wooden mask he wore covering his face, but his words were crisp and forceful. "You are in the presence of a king."

The haughty words were followed by an echoing laugh.

"Are you a native of this city, birdman? I have use for you if so."

[Pump Action Phoenix]

Ebag The II

Not much Lokas could do about his aim being thrown off. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the pavement, not taking out Dzan's legs like Lokas had hoped. That axe was coming in fast and Dzan with it. This was not the game Lokas wanted to play. Dzan was the better melee fighter, hands down. So Lokas made a dangerous gamble. First; take his hands off the gun and let them go out to the side to avoid losing an arm to the axe. Second step; take a step backwards. That was the problem for going for an attack that would only just graze someone, even if Lokas couldn't quite keep the distance by backpedaling (Dzan could run forward faster than Lokas could run backwards) he could gain enough space between them to avoid his ballistics vest getting ripped to s**t so soon. Third step; while step two was happening, take your finger off the trigger and hit the magazine release in preparation for step four. Step four; throw that goddamn rifle and backpack right into Dzan's smug ******** face while the axe was low, recovering from the swing designed to take out his body-armor. Which was exactly why he ejected the magazine. That left one bullet in the chamber, which wasn't going to be enough to put Lokas down on the off chance that Dzan turned the weapon on him.

Not ******** likely, but Lokas was a paranoid one.

Well now there was less space between them and Lokas had lost his rifle. This kinda sucked. Bag full of s**t with added weight of compact rifle ought to stun and do some minor damage though, enough for Lokas to draw one of the hidden revolvers with his right hand and the knife clasped over his heart with the left. The knife was held low in a reverse grip, ready to go. The revolver was fired from the hip, all six shots in quick succession provided there was time. If Lokas extended his arm, it would just get ******** lopped off. Holding his hand low and near the hip would keep him relatively safer. Plus, at this range, Dzan's abdomen was a plenty large enough target.

[Ebag The II]

Lokas Samandar

+++Dzan would take the back with a grunt before dropping it to the ground. Only to see the gun being raised and fired. He'd lunge forward at that moment. His grip choked up at the haft as he'd jump into the hail of bullets. A smirk on his face before a grimace would happen. Two rounds tearing into his shoulder before he'd be right in the man's face. A nice HELLO! was Dzan's face slamming into Lokas' own. His hand already having choked up meaning that it was more of a hatchet now and it'd slam down straight into the arm that held the weapon. He better be putting one through Dzan's heart or he'd be in a world of pain here soon. Sure, the round through his shoulder would lodge in there and cause a slith-ton of pain, but he'd be needing a new magazine by the time Dzan was in his face. He'd be either slashing after the headbutt or trying to roll away not to lose an arm to the daemonic weapon that was the chainaxe.

[Trexasle]

Name: Leontias Métaliene

Leon rarely notices others from places he has been. Mostly because he tried not to remember a lot of people to begin with. The les of a connection he makeswith human beings the better. Nobody will get in his way and he could probably go back home to his planet with no regrets. However he did notice one face, he recalled him being a security guard of sorts for another bar that he had been in. Was this planet really that small that people collided with each other so often? Regardless Leon was setting himself up to say hello, but Lokas had walked right past him staring at someone with the….coldest of eyes.

Something was about to happen.

Before he could think about it however, the fight had already begun outside. Leon eyes had widened, he already had escaped gunfire and elemental attacks days prior. He alien held his side of his head, knocking off his hat and revealing his facial features. Caramel skin, green eyes with a coal black sclera. Everyone was seemingly running off away from the two and Leon was not surprised. Their aura alone was intimidating, this was not going to be a pretty fight, judging from the aura lone, and it looked like the bastards were nearly ready to kill each other. Leon however, wanted to make sure nothing else got in the way, rather not let humans get hurt due to two tough guy having a brawl to the death. The Guard from The Black Cherry had told a nearby brunette that it was best that she stand back and let the two brawl, Leon would affirm his words. AT least the male was actually considerate of his allies.

“Lass, I think we should be behind the counter, RIGHT NOW!” He took the unknown female’s wrist and ran off with her dragging her behind the counter to safety. Of Course the alien didn’t really think about things like…personal space, or introducing himself. Manners weren’t exactly something he’d want to have right now.

[Pump Action Phoenix]

Ebag The II

A small measure of satisfaction was taken as Lokas registered impact on Dzan. Shoulder. That'd ******** up his flexibility a bit at least, cost him some blood. Although now Dzan was right in his damn face. As the cyberpunk loomed close, Lokas shifted his weight on his back foot in preparation for the headbutt. That trick was getting to be old hat. Dzan had smashed Lokas's nose how many times now with his forehead? Too many. Lokas was not dumb though and he'd learned from past experience. Two harsh lessons. The first was that if you had to take a hit, if you had to, take it on the hardest, sturdiest part of your body. Lokas tucked his chin against his chest so that the only target Dzan could headbutt would be the forehead, hardest part of the body. At the same time, he leaned back, moving with the incoming force of the blow. Moving with the impact robbed it the vast majority of its damage. That combined with the force being directed into the sturdiest part of the skull meant that Lokas was walking away with a bruise from that move, nothing more.

The chainaxe, was another matter.

Lokas continued to lean back, dropping the spent revolver as he did so. Without bullets, it was useless. Lokas didn't carry spare ammunition for the .357. Too long to reload in a combat situation, better to just carry more guns. Regardless, Lokas was falling. Lean that far back with all your weight on your rear foot and that's what happens. It was exactly what the soldier wanted. The axe bit his arm, but chewed for only a moment. A moment long enough to dig deep but it was better than losing the arm. Lokas's hands went up and he tucked his legs in against his chest to roll with his backwards fall. Rather than just hit the ground, Lokas tumbled in reverse and landed in a crouch facing Dzan. His arm throbbed, the flesh torn to ribbons by the daemonic weapon's teeth. In an instant, Lokas's elbow was wet with his own gore dripping from the upper-arm wound.

He had a knife. Dzan had a chain-axe. His day would get worse from there.

There was no way Lokas could take Dzan on in a stand-up melee brawl. He'd lost his biggest source of firepower. The handcannon would be useless, Dzan would be on him and more than capable of deflecting the long-barreled monster. However, Lokas was not a man to give in to despair. He had sworn a silent oath to never back down. Which meant he was going to finish this. He moved quickly, there wasn't even a fraction of a second of delay or hesitation. As soon as he hit that crouch, he lunged to his left.

Right into the ******** street.

An oncoming car only barely missed him. The driver leaned on the horn as she sped off down the road. If Dzan tried to run immediately after Lokas, he'd certainly get pegged by the thousand some odd pound automobile. That'd give Lokas about five feet of breathing room, maybe one, two seconds tops to turn around and assume a fighting stance facing Dzan on the sidewalk and ponder the insanity of what he'd just done. He stood on the double yellow line in the middle of a busy two lane road. There was barely enough space between the cars for a single man, much less two brawlers engaged in a fight to the death. Lokas knew though, as he spread his legs shoulder width apart and raised both fists to rest just below his chin with the knife still clutched tightly in his left, that this was his best shot to win. A speeding semi-truck behind the soldier reminded him that he was just as likely to get run over as Dzan was, but this was the best bet he had.

He would not back down. Round two would take place in traffic.

[Fiend The Bunny]

arrow Downtown Durem - Responding to gun shots.

James had been startled out of his rest by the sound of gun fire, the loud echo of escaping gasses being hard to ignore in the tight, confined spaces of Durem. He was up and out the door in seconds, sliding down the banister of his apartment complex and out the front door. He was greeted by the loud horn of a car narrowly avoiding a man holding a knife, he turned his back to James in the center of the street and turned to face Dzan Streea. Everything in James body roared at him to race into battle, to charge across the busy two lane street and beat that man to death!

James had pushed Dzan last time they fought, and that was before James was even ready to fight. Dzan was a dangerous brawler, but James was a much better striker. But he didn't charge, for another part of James halted his motion, and that was his brain. He recognized the man with the knife at this moment, it was the armed fool who had stopped his fight with Makar Streea. James grinned at that, it was the perfect setup. He'd let the two tire themselves out fighting each other, and then he'd finish them both.

The vehicles would make for an interesting fight between the two, he didn't know much about the man with the knife, he looked dangerous enough but looks rarely meant much. He knew Dzan's strength first hand, the scars on his face a constant reminder of it. James didn't resent Dzan, or even dislike him, but he wanted to beat him. He knew he was stronger, he was simply over confident in their first fight upon sending Dzan on rubber legs. He took a boxers mentality and gave him a chance to recover, a mistake he wouldn't make again.

And maybe with any luck Dzan would finish of the blade wielding man, saving him another hassle. For if he died, Makar had no one to protect him. "Good luck." James said at an even voice, to no one in particular. He leaned against a nearby lamp post, crossing his arms and content letting this scenario play out.

Character Art [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

[Ebag The II]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Lokas Samandar

He would not back down. Round two would take place in traffic.

+++Dzan would growl as the man rolled and then ran. His bronze eyes narrowing to slivers as he watched the man almost get hit and then stop in the middle of the road. Oh yes. That's where the battle would commence. His form would stand up straight as he walked into the middle of the street daring a car to hit him. Around him cars would turn and swerve a pileup ensuing and people would get out of their cars and come at him. The first person died in a shower of gore as Dzan, without even looking, cut the man down. His skull rolling to stop against his own car. That made all the people scream and run back towards their cars. Meaning one thing; one side of the street was open for their battle.

+++Then he was within a couple of meters and suddenly rushed Lokas. The guns would be worthless against him. Dzan had an insane amount of damage he could take thanks to his God and would charge forward. His wounded shoulder? That was the one where his cybernetic arm would connect meaning his movement wasn't hindered at all. The blood soaked his shirt, however, and he'd grin all the more. He'd get within striking distance and thrust out with the spike of the axe wanting to make Lokas jump or even bend backwards for him to follow up to get right back into his face. If he jumped? Well, he'd end up in traffic and probably ran down by a car. If he leaned he'd be leaning back into the upright position as Dzan was in his face hacking down at him with the choked up chainaxe.

[Pump Action Phoenix]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Ebag The II

The first person died in a shower of gore as Dzan, without even looking, cut the man down.

That, right there was why Lokas and Dzan could never just talk. Dzan was a rabid ******** dog. There was a pang of guilt as Lokas immediately acknowledged this as his fault, he'd brought the fight out into the street. No time for guilt though. No time for doubt. Bury those black thoughts away in a little box in the back of your mind. There were times and places to mourn, the battlefield was not one of them. Dzan was coming at him, time to move.

Lokas didn't move backwards, either by leaning or stepping. That would just get him taken out by some jackass not paying attention to the road. No, Lokas leaned to his left (Dzan's right) and took two steps in that direction. He was circling around Dzan's outside to avoid the thrust. Dzan wasn't gonna be able to swing that weapon the way he wanted with Lokas at his side like that. While Dzan was pulling his arm back to recover from the thrust, Lokas was taking a step back along the double yellow lines and sending that knife in Dzan's direction. It wasn't perfectly balanced, not originally designed for throwing, but it could certainly put an eye out if Lokas's aim was good enough to get it where he wanted it. At the same time, his right was busy drawing the handcannon.

.357 might not have had enough punch to put Dzan down, but .440 Cor-bon was a hunting round designed with bears in mind. Pain wouldn't be what Dzan would have to overcome, ruined limbs would be the problem. And now Lokas's back wasn't immediately to the traffic, he had a bit of space to his left to work with. Not dead yet. That was a good sign.

[Ebag The II]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Lokas Samandar

It wasn't perfectly balanced, not originally designed for throwing, but it could certainly put an eye out if Lokas's aim was good enough to get it where he wanted it. At the same time, his right was busy drawing the handcannon.

+++Dzan would grin all the more as he tested the waters. Lokas learning well from his previous fights, but then he lost his advantage in close quarters. The knife sailed through the air and Dzan merely ducked and charged. The knife flew by and clattered onto the streets behind him. Thus, while he was still middraw Dzan would already be in his face. His left hand grabbing the wrist of the one pulling the gun to keep it within the holster to a degree. His right one, having choked up on the chainaxe, was already cutting in low. Around the hip to limit the mobility. It was definitely one of those times Lokas would've been better to just use his fists.

+++The entire time, unbeknownst to Dzan, James would be staring and watching. This is what happens when a human fell to the strength of Khorne. He was just a killer. There were no second guesses. There was no life. There was no family. It was only monotony until the next fight. Until the next time you could fight for your life. He was damned and would always be damned. Who knew how such a creature as Dzan fell to these depths, but it definitely wasn't a good thing to show James the strength of the damned at a time like this. There'd only be one thing that it caused.

[04 Spriggan]

arrow A bar in Chinatown

Vintrict

Toccata was gone for a while... so long in fact that one might've wondered if she had simply gotten something to eat and left. Honestly, the thought had crossed her mind, but word tended to be bond and again, a first impression was an important thing. She couldn't just steal his money and food without paying with her time, as she'd promised.

When she did return to him, it was with a tub of chili-cheese fries, half finished; she'd already gone through the burger. Assuming he was still shooting, she'd walk to the other side of the table again so he could know she was there without her disrupting the game. If he was talking, she simply walked up behind him. In either instance she continued to eat while staring at him.

[Pump Action Phoenix]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Ebag The II

It was definitely one of those times Lokas would've been better to just use his fists.

Well there's always a first time for everything.

Lokas did realize the error of him tossing the knife soon enough, for when opportunity to do damage presented itself Lokas could not fully capitalize on it. Dzan charged in, that much was expected. It was inevitable that the ******** would try to pound his face in and rip him to shreds with the axe, it was kind of his modus operandi. To that end, Lokas shifted his weight onto the fronts of his feet in preparation. His right hand was trapped by Dzan's left, unable to draw the cannon. Not good. The axe was swinging in, ready to shear him in two at the hip. That was even worse. Bigger men then Lokas have broken at the prospect and lost their lives as a result. Lokas? Calm as could be, ice to Dzan's fire. His breathing carefully moderated, his face a mask of dark stone.

That's when he took a step in with his left foot and thrust his left fist forward. His knuckles were aimed for Dzan's solar plexus, intent on crushing it and stealing the wind from his lungs. The step forward brought Lokas enough to taste what Dzan had for lunch, and the punch would push him away. It brought all of his weight and forward momentum to bear and the extension of his arm in these cramped quarters would drive his knuckles hard into Dzan's body and force him backwards. At the same time, moving in saved Lokas from the worst of the axe's bite. Dzan could only swing it with so much force this nuts to butts close. Make no mistake, Lokas would have a ragged, bloody wound on his hip as his jeans and muscle were shredded indiscriminately but he wasn't losing his leg. Now if only he'd had the knife. Instead of a punch to the chest, Lokas could have delivered a stab. Same push back once the blade was hilted inside Dzan, but a more lethal wound than just winding the b*****d.

What happened next would very much depend on Dzan. If he tried to maintain his grip on Lokas's right hand despite being forced backwards, Lokas would bring his right leg in, lift it up and deliver a forward ******** stomp on Dzan's unprotected hip. The weight of steel toed boots and a lot of leg power would ******** wreck his pelvis. Of course, if Dzan's right hand was free, he could easily grab that leg delivering the kick and lop it the ******** off with the axe whereas Lokas could swing his right leg back into its rear position before a counter came if Dzan didn't have his left hand free. Which meant, if Dzan let go of Lokas's arm, the kick wasn't coming. Lokas would simply draw the cannon and let their positions reset to where they were a moment ago, just a few feet of distance between the two of them, cars screaming by Lokas's right shoulder and Dzan's left and a crowd gathering on the opposite side to watch in rapt horror and awe.

However, now he'd be armed again.

[Ruthless Pulse]

Jessie felt her arm yanked, and found herself behind the very counter Mister Mysterious had instructed her to hide behind. Tearing her eyes away from the two hacking it out in the street, she looked towards the stranger that had pulled her aside. Eyes bulged open even more than they already were, and she hastily scrambled back. Sure, she probably could have seen the man's face when he first entered. She had been more preoccupied with getting food and figuring out the man that had rescued her. Pausing for a millisecond, it registered that this man had pulled her out of the danger.

What am I, the damsel in distress?

"Thank you," was all she managed.

She peered around the edge of the counter to look out the window. As the axe swung, she cringed as it hit her savior's hip. Despite desperately wanting to help, she looked to the back door and the cowering acne ridden boy. Best to help the innocent, she thought. "It's safe to say you're off the clock. Now get out," she ordered to the coward, jabbing a thumb to the back door. Without hesitation, the boy scampered off before she could muster another word.

A second look the the man that had pulled her aside, she pulled her wrist out of his grasp to squeeze his shoulder. She hoped he knew she was truly thankful, but she couldn't afford to stick around. Even more so with orders to leave if things ever became too serious. With a quick glance back at the fight, Jessie felt a large pang of guilt as she turned towards the door. Her foot caught the ground and launched her into a run out the door, never once looking back.

I just hope he survives by the time this is over...

[Just a Kroww]

arrow Red Light District

Damnatus

...and everybody else.

The sound of flapping wings heralded the arrival of something large and winged dropping from the sky into the middle of chaos. It landed heavily, and not gracefully. But then again, it was hard to tell just what exactly had fallen from the sky in the first place. Some would see a large bird, black and blue-feathered with an ill-defined head more bestial than fit it's frame, and far too many eyes.

Others wouldn't see a bird at all, but three figures quite a bit smaller than the creature. One was merely a hulking black blur, another tall and of strangely-jointed limbs. But regardless of what you thought you saw, the man stepping from darkness to the mortal eyes was a rather average example of a human being. But then again, appearances are always so deceiving.

This man stood straight, the air disturbed around him as if conjuring a localized thunderstorm. From his neck hung something carved into winged shape, so small but holding within itself power that burned hot to the supernatural senses. The sharp eye might notice his gaze was directed towards Damnatus. There was definitely something telling in those golden eyes and the snarl etched on his face.

His mind took in the locations of persons in the vicinity, those of particular interest being the warp sorcerer, his cute little decoration hanging from his arm (practically) and Radek, stepping forth from his own realm of distorted hell, but in all honesty Connor had eyes only for Damnatus.

The very sight of the sorceror brought old memories to the surface, the least of those attached to curious knives and prodding instruments. His flesh hadn't forgotten old tortures. "You're out of your mind old man, but that makes two of us." Making conversation? Not like him, not after what he'd been through. The old Connor would have let his heart dictate his moves, and anger tended to rule everything out. But it had been a year, and if you asked him, Connor would tell you he no longer had one. But there was certainly something up his sleeve. Black dripped from his arm, and the fabric moved as if alive.

Passive

Bound in Gut and Bone

• Dormant
  
• Dormant
  

Active

Manifestation: 1/2

[Ebag The II]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Lokas Samandar

Of course, if Dzan's right hand was free, he could easily grab that leg delivering the kick and lop it the ******** off with the axe whereas Lokas could swing his right leg back into its rear position before a counter came if Dzan didn't have his left hand free.

+++Dzan would take the punch to the chest and grunt. His lungs would expel oxygen but it wouldn't wind him like most people thought. Most people didn't realize that Dzan's lungs were cybernetic and help oxygenate his blood better than normal lungs. Thus, just winding him wouldn't completely wind him and he'd grin all the more. The chainaxe would be brought against the hip again. He wouldn't be swinging it at all. There wouldn't be no wind up. Just a sly move of it against the flesh of the hip and leg. The teeth would do all the work as the kick landed on Dzan's hip and he'd growl outwards. His rage showing as he'd burst into motion once again.

+++The beard of the axe would rip the leg away(not cutting) as it'd throw the man off balance. Dzan's leg would kick out the only thing gaining him support as he'd fling him into traffic. Regardless of if a car was hitting him Dzan was already stalking forward the gun most likely clattering away as Lokas would hit the ground hard and most likely have to scramble for his life instead of getting hit by a car. Dzan, the entire time, grinned and stalked his prey. Oh, he would maim this gakker again. It was a promise.

[Pump Action Phoenix]

arrow Downtown Durem; Broadway

Ebag The II

Dzan's leg would kick out the only thing gaining him support as he'd fling him into traffic.

There was a moment where time seemed to slow as Lokas lost his balance and began to fall backwards. In that moment he contemplated the trip he'd taken to Vegas, won six thousand dollars at roulette and drank himself into a week-long stupor. Sometimes fate swung your way and the gambles you made brought great reward. Sometimes you lost the dice roll and ended up spending six months in Black Beach. Sometimes you end up leaving a head-shaped dent in the hood of someone's sedan. The vest took the worst of it. It was designed to take gunshot impacts, liquid-impregnated fibers hardening up like titanium plates in response to force woven over a layer of scaled ceramic disks. It had been tested to withstand up to twenty-three millimeter caliber munitions, Lokas reminded himself as the back of his head bounced off the car. He wouldn't be splattered all over the road, a twisted wreck of a man, but when your lower half wanted to keep going down and your upper half was getting picked up by a fast moving vehicle, there's bound to be a little damage to the spine and lower back muscles. Not to mention the probable concussion.

Lokas tumbled off the edge of the car, headlight shattering magnificently and spraying glass in every direction before falling face first in the pavement, arm still crossed over his chest in a death grip on his pistol. He groaned. Everything ******** hurt. His hip was shredded. Left arm, mangled. Definitely a concussion now, Lokas could feel it. Standing wasn't going to come easy, and certainly with no haste. Lokas's left hand touched his throbbing lower back. This was going downhill quickly and his chances of walking away were slimming. But fighting despair when everything in his soul told him to give up was what separated the boys from the men. Lokas pushed off the ground with his right hand, rolling onto his back and thrust that pistol-wielding right out at Dzan, ready to blow his a** away.

Except there was no pistol in his hand. It sat squarely in the underarm holster, having been held in place throughout the accident by Lokas's grip but now relinquished. The only thing that Lokas presented to Dzan was his index finger pointed at him like a gun's, thumb cocked back like the hammer. Had he finally gone insane? That crack to head driven him mad? No, he was just covering for the fact that he'd drawn his second hidden revolver out of his pants while touching his lower back. His left hand, with its little inconspicuous, unshiny little black firearm would sit near his hip, attracting little attention while Lokas made his grand and obvious threatening gesture, one he was ready to retract a moment's notice. It was a firearm feint.

In the meantime, Lokas was going to put six bullets in Dzan's thigh as fast as he could pull the goddamn trigger. Aiming wasn't a problem, Lokas had killed men from greater distances while concussed, shellshocked, deaf and disoriented. All at the same time. Stray RPG on the west bank. The funny part was the b*****d wasn't even aiming for Lokas, a bullet knocked his hand off course and sent the RPG into Lokas's nest. Story for another time though. Lokas was going to be plugging away at Dzan's right leg. Maybe, just maybe, the .357 magnum rounds would tear enough muscle and bone away to render that leg useless. .357 wasn't a weak cartridge after all, could easily snap a limb. Maybe Lokas could finally get this b*****d off his ******** feet.

Or, at the very least, he could spill some blood for Dzan's precious ******** puppeteer.