"In any case, it's over, Dzan," he continued. "Lay down your weapon."
+++Dzan would merely grin all the more as he stared at the monk. He really thought he'd lay his weapon down just at a drop of the hat? He'd take a step closer to the monk. Those eyes of his never leaving him and he'd visibly react. Anyone that was a known fighter would know what that meant. Tenkai made any more moves to try and injure him he'd merely lash out with deadly force. That grin would never leave his face, however, as he'd stare the monk down.
+++"You make the first move and you fall down my path powering me. Your little woowoo slith won't stop me and you know this, and we all know that you don't have the pure strength of arm to put me down, and Lokas there," he'd tip his head towards the armed Arab man, "won't think twice about using the weapon and guess what. I'll make sure when he uses it you'll be directly behind me to take that .45 round right after I do." He'd say with a smirk. "So, this'll go one of two ways. You let me walk out of here right now or I wound you and leave you for your own God to handle, but then maybe your God won't necessarily be there for you. Maybe Nurgle will. Since this entire town is encased with despair and you will be too if I have to take both your gakking legs from you. At least I'm not mutating people like that stench of the Tzeentchian warlock." He'd state. Yes, even a person like Dzan, could tell when Damnatus was within a few miles of his position.
+++With that he took a few steps backwards. Sure, the entire time, even throughout his little speech, he'd be ready to react. You didn't become a famed fighter by talking slith and not preparing to defend yourself. Thus, he'd take those steps backwards, but they weren't completely back. Closer and closer to the gas and oil spill where it'd be such a simple thing as striking or parrying the sword before him to catch the slick on fire and then exploding the truck causing more damage and Dzan was willing to take the chances of dying to wreck even more lives and society.
"So, this'll go one of two ways. You let me walk out of here right now or I wound you and leave you for your own God to handle, but the stench of chaos is about you. So maybe your God won't necessarily be there for you. Maybe Nurgle will. Since this entire town is encased with despair. At least I'm not mutating people like that stench of the Tzeentchian warlock."
No. There was never just two ways for a situation to end. There was thousands of variables, millions of possibilities and an infinite number of outcomes. Lokas's eyes narrowed and Dzan's little speech seemed to slow. Indeed, time seemed to tick more and more gradually on as the tactical aspect of Lokas's mind kicked in. Dzan still had the axe. Easy to kick up a spark with that, set off that car bomb. Too many civilians in the area. Casualties would be unacceptable. Separate him from the axe? Unlikely. A wounding shot would be ineffective on account of the cybernetic arm. Possibility to put him down instantly? Low. Dzan's ability to withstand damage was well-known and Lokas would only get one shot. Headshot? Possibly. Possibly. Then there were the scenarios Lokas had to shoot down instantly. A flash bang grenade would have acted as a simple remedy. Tear gas could have cleared the crowd, allowing for a fight without the possibility for civilian losses.
But Lokas didn't have his tear gas. He didn't have his grenades, his flashbangs, his shotgun. He'd left them behind for the sake of blending into the crowd. That was his mistake. He had not been expecting such a high threat to show up right off the bat. Lokas had let his guard down, if only just a bit. That was his unacceptable mistake in this fight, not being adequately armed and prepared. He had faced down an incredibly tough foe without his strongest assets.
"Dzan."
The single word springing from his lips is what finally caused reality to resume its regular pace. Lokas looked at Dzan with dark eyes. Dzan's eyes burned with fire, with hatred, with a passion for bloodlust and vengeance. The stare that Lokas laid upon Dzan was vacant. He did not hate Dzan. Hating him was too personal. Lokas stuffed his hatred for this mass-murdering monster deep away, in that little box where all emotions went and locked it up in the back of his mind. All that remained was the decision laid out before him. "Don't come back to Gaia." Lokas slipped his finger off the cannon's trigger as spoke. There would be a reckoning for the cyberpunk but it was not today. No, today was a mistake instigated by poor planning and impulse.
Lokas would not be so foolish next time.
"I don't care where you go, but don't come back here unless you plan to die. And make no mistake, Dzan. I will kill you." The words delivered were so cold that they could have misted the air. "Most importantly, stay away from your son. I'm not letting him turn out like you. He will not be another rabid dog." Lokas's final sentence was a finality. It was an inarguable fact. Makar would be better, more human than his father. Lokas would make sure of that. He would be his guardian, his mentor, and if the taint of chaos took root in spite of all this, his executioner. Perhaps Dzan would pick up on the darker implications of what Lokas said, perhaps not. It wasn't as if Lokas was threatening his son's life to try and get him to leave but if Makar started collecting skulls, there wouldn't be a moment of hesitation.
If Dzan valued the life of his child in the least, he would leave. He would not let his disease take root and bring his own flesh and blood into damnation and death.
+++"You make the first move and you fall down my path powering me. Your little woowoo slith won't stop me and you know this, and we all know that you don't have the pure strength of arm to put me down, and Lokas there," he'd tip his head towards the armed Arab man, "won't think twice about using the weapon and guess what. I'll make sure when he uses it you'll be directly behind me to take that .45 round right after I do." He'd say with a smirk. "So, this'll go one of two ways. You let me walk out of here right now or I wound you and leave you for your own God to handle, but then maybe your God won't necessarily be there for you. Maybe Nurgle will. Since this entire town is encased with despair and you will be too if I have to take both your gakking legs from you. At least I'm not mutating people like that stench of the Tzeentchian warlock." He'd state. Yes, even a person like Dzan, could tell when Damnatus was within a few miles of his position.
+++With that he took a few steps backwards. Sure, the entire time, even throughout his little speech, he'd be ready to react. You didn't become a famed fighter by talking slith and not preparing to defend yourself. Thus, he'd take those steps backwards, but they weren't completely back. Closer and closer to the gas and oil spill where it'd be such a simple thing as striking or parrying the sword before him to catch the slick on fire and then exploding the truck causing more damage and Dzan was willing to take the chances of dying to wreck even more lives and society.
Tenkai made no move to reposition his sword as Dzan took a step closer. Although Tenkai's actions were not intended to intimidate, the cyberpunk's actual attempt at intimidation seemed to have no effect on the monk. He barely moved, just short of unflinching but not completely there. It was folly for one to be truly unflinching or unblinking, as they were natural reactions of the body. Warriors who were too focused on not flinching ultimately lost their focus on everything else. Tenkai's mind was unfettered, and the slow, subtle movement of his body as Dzan took his step was an indicator of how focused and alert he was.
The monk was silent as Dzan gave his speech. Overconfidence was the greatest of enemies, but Dzan wasn't one to be underestimated, either. All that talk about pure strength and using the gunman, who seemed to be named Lokas, against him was nothing but hot air. Tenkai had been in enough Mexican standoffs before to know that long speeches were often used to buy time, so it was clear that Dzan was doing everything he could to escape from this situation intact. His sense of self-preservation must have been strong enough to drown out the cry for blood that no doubt came from that abominable weapon of his, as a daemon of Khorne would never try to retreat. If Dzan was so confident that Tenkai wasn't strong enough to stop him, he wouldn't be trying to run away, and if Tenkai had to take a bullet in order to stop Dzan, so be it.
But as Dzan began to back away, Tenkai picked up on that subtle step towards the oil slick in his retreat. Indeed, Dzan had been thinking about other avenues for escape during his big speech, and probably even before then. That oil tanker would not only have caused enough damage to cover his escape, but it'd kill a lot more people in the process. He wasn't just actively trying to escape. He was trying to spill more blood for the Blood God.
That wasn't going to happen.
For every step back Dzan took, Tenkai took a step of his own. His left hand slowly took hold of the pommel of his sword as he brought the blade in front of him, holding it out between himself and Dzan in a middle guard. The monk steadily positioned himself between Dzan and the oil tanker in order to make sure he backed away from it. At this point Dzan could have lashed out at him as he was known to do, be it to overpower him or even use the clash of their weapons to set the tanker off. The unfortunate truth was that Tenkai knew of Dzan's tendency to lash out with deadly force, and it was in those situations that the monk held the upper hand, whether Dzan realized it or not.
Lokas Samandar
"Dzan."
The single word springing from his lips is what finally caused reality to resume its regular pace. Lokas looked at Dzan with dark eyes. Dzan's eyes burned with fire, with hatred, with a passion for bloodlust and vengeance. The stare that Lokas laid upon Dzan was vacant. He did not hate Dzan. Hating him was too personal. Lokas stuffed his hatred for this mass-murdering monster deep away, in that little box where all emotions went and locked it up in the back of his mind. All that remained was the decision laid out before him. "Don't come back to Gaia." Lokas slipped his finger off the cannon's trigger as spoke. There would be a reckoning for the cyberpunk but it was not today. No, today was a mistake instigated by poor planning and impulse.
Lokas would not be so foolish next time.
"I don't care where you go, but don't come back here unless you plan to die. And make no mistake, Dzan. I will kill you." The words delivered were so cold that they could have misted the air. "Most importantly, stay away from your son. I'm not letting him turn out like you. He will not be another rabid dog." Lokas's final sentence was a finality. It was an inarguable fact. Makar would be better, more human than his father. Lokas would make sure of that. He would be his guardian, his mentor, and if the taint of chaos took root in spite of all this, his executioner. Perhaps Dzan would pick up on the darker implications of what Lokas said, perhaps not. It wasn't as if Lokas was threatening his son's life to try and get him to leave but if Makar started collecting skulls, there wouldn't be a moment of hesitation.
If Dzan valued the life of his child in the least, he would leave. He would not let his disease take root and bring his own flesh and blood into damnation and death.
Lokas' words would have caused Tenkai to stop in his tracks if they had caused Dzan to do the same. Although he would not impede himself, Tenkai couldn't help but feel struck by the truth in Lokas' words. He had not forgotten Dzan's child, who unbeknownst to Tenkai could very well have been a completely different son than Makar, whom Tenkai had yet to meet. Regardless, the fact that Dzan had children who had remained untainted by the influence of Chaos. Dzan wantonly set about creating bloodshed in the name of his god without any care for his family, the people he should have loved more than anything. These people were the ones worth looking after, just like Raien's young son Alexander, who should live free from the sins of their fathers.
Much like before, Tenkai could have tried to fight Dzan and, just the same, risk the lives of innocent people. Although Dzan no doubt saw them all as a bargaining chip, much like Lokas, Tenkai wasn't motivated by hatred or the desire to kill Dzan. He was trying to stop Dzan from taking any more lives on Gaia, and it seemed that Lokas wanted the same thing. He turned his head to the side slightly, keeping is eyes on Dzan as he nodded to the gunman.
"Well said. I agree with you."
The monk kept his guard up, keeping himself between Dzan and the oil tanker as Lokas finished speaking.
"I, too, won't let your hatred destroy any more lives on this world, Dzan. That's been my goal from the beginning, and I will see to it. Run away if you must, but remember that you are the one running. Running from those who would strike you down without a second thought if you dared to shed blood on this world again. Know well that although fighting you gives strength to you and your god, our purpose makes us stronger."
With Tenkai standing firm between Dzan and his intended target, a subdued flicker of azure fire sparked in the monk's eye as he stared back into Dzan's bronze irises.
"Now, slink away like a coward, and know that no matter where you go, there will always be people like us to stand in your way."
Tenkai had to thank Lokas later for reminding him of what was truly important.
Sey stared at the girl for a moment as she presented her meaty prize. It did not take a police detective for her to realize how the girl acquired such an item. Her cheeks grew red as she realized the deed. She could not tell the girl what she did was wrong or right. The circumstances of her life here blended that far too much for her to be acting too priestly right now. Inside, however, the girl's deeds were satisfying. It must have been when she had her hands on the girl that she felt something inhuman coming forth from her. It caused Sey to have a double take as she looked to the girl again, staring into her eyes as if to try to find out what dwelled within them. A window into the soul, as they said.
Then she remembered the current event that just occurred. She brought her hand into her jacket, removing a dark blue cloth. Normally used as a quick way to clean herself up, tonight it will serve as wrapping for the girl's meat.
"If you leave that meat out in the air for too long, it will become tainted. Here, give it to me. I will cover it up, then we can go somewhere warm and cook it. How does that sound?"
Sey offered the sweetest of smiles. In reality, she was annoyed. Her own mischief was delayed once again.
James had reacted instantly, the moment Dzan had lowered himself James expected some sort of weapon. So, in the process of elimination he chose to close the distance and cut the angle. When Tenkai would have landed in, slicing the pistol in half, James was already out of its sight. He had cut the outside angle on the pistol, standing alongside Dzan ready to beat him senseless for such cowardice. Much like James had done the first time they fought, keeping outside the lead hand and toward Dzan's left.
Unfortunately, James never got to throw his strikes. From the skies came a Samurai Monk, turning the weapon Dzan held into a fashion statement and now standing literally next to James at the same angle. James did not throw blows, not with another unknown enemy along side him. He quickly retreated, pacing backwards in a boxers shuffle to put himself to the left and behind Dzan.
The following exchange of words was one James did not involve himself in, watching passively as Dzan retreated closer and closer toward James. It would be easy to beat Dzan senseless from behind, but James didn't do easy. "Run along now, little fairy. You aren't worth my time." James said as Dzan stepped back past him at this point, James locking eyes with the former Champion of Khorne.
James had lowered his hands, staring with what resembled pity at Dzan. This man wasn't strong, he wasn't even particularly dangerous. Like a drug addict in the street, if you weren't careful he might knife you for your pocket change, but he was hardly a threat to those with real strength.
The Monk, Lokas, hell, even Makar. They were all more then a match for whatever Dzan believed himself to be now. James simply shook his head, turning his back to the Monk and Lokas, walking away from the scene entirely. He had no desire to speak with the Samurai, and even less desire to speak with Lokas.
As far as James was concerned, The Front was an enemy. Lokas was an enemy. They'd likely face off one day, but that was not today. So with his head held high, he vanished from the scene before its climax. Let whatever happen, happen.
[!] ~”Those who fight change are doomed to die, while those who accept it merely survive…”~[!]
By the time Dithakar arrived in that beleaguered part of town, the whole district had fallen into a state of panic.
People ran screaming; Clawing at their offended eyes. Others still having dropped to the streets, too enraptured by fear to so much as move. For the elderly Grand Master, whose power was dependent as much upon the energies at large as it was upon himself, the scene began to shift.
For an instant, his gaze beheld the destruction of Durem; Heaved skyward as some great terror roiled beneath the city...beneath the flesh of Gaia. He would catch a glimpse of it, if only briefly, as its dreaded mass seethed and snaked into view. What could only be described as a behemoth tendril of sickly gray flesh; Coated in slime that gripped whole chunks of earth, and displaced them. Buildings collapsed, swallowed up as the cobbled roads fell away unto darkness...Drawn down into the shadowy pit that had, no doubt, been carved out by the monstrosity that inhabited it. A colossal parasite, foreign to this world, that brought destruction to them all!
But it was not the fear of this beast that halted the elderly mendicant's chant, and left him breathless, it was the mental sensation that birthed within him. To one such as he, Gaia was not just a rock floating through the void...It was the mother to all living things. A precious jewel adrift in the sea of black; Alive, and aware...Capable of feeling pain.
It was that dreadful agony that drilled into him, then. The notion that this abstract terror had inflicted such a grievous wound upon the world...And he had been powerless to stop it, or even sense it's existence.
For those few seconds, he stood frozen in mind-numbing disbelief; The very same need to doubt what awful sight he had been subjected to giving birth to one of his own innate abilities.
Hidden Mind :: Years of meditation have allowed Dithakar to centralize his inner mind, warding himself against deceptions of any kind. He is no longer susceptible to lies or deceit, and can spot it immediately as long as he can perceive it with one of his senses. The same is true of magical, and non-magical, tricks and enchantments. Psionic powers face a similar limitation against him, and no telepath can “make” him think anything nor take anything from him mentally without first overcoming this ability. Any such ability will act as though it has been severely weakened, and reduced to 30% efficacy. However, continued mental assault (with respect to the mage, or telepath), will gradual reduce Dithakar’s mental obstruction. Increasing its efficacy to 60% on the second use, and 90% on the third. Any additional uses will work as normal, and continue to work as normal for the remainder of the battle. This doesn’t, however, limit their ability to lift him off the ground and throw him across the room or blast his mind with mental force from the start.
Dithakar's training kicked in, and pushed back against the mighty effect; Forcing him to see that there was no monster beneath the streets, or any great destruction of the world taking place below. All the same, certain aspects of the lie remained intact. He could not shake the sense of impending disaster, nor free himself from the whisperings of what he had beheld mere moments ago.
False cracks, like the fractures imparted upon his mind, still ran through the red-Light District as though left by some high-magnitude quake. But, unlike before, the Monk knew something was amiss...And would, as opposed to waiting for the fear to take him again, move to defend himself against the fabrication.
The ancient mendicant's wrinkled, old, hand would reach shakily into the folds of his robe; Producing from the depths a whitish puff-ball of crystalline Okenite. Roughly the size of a golf-ball, it would be difficult to see that each strand of 'fiber' was in fact a tiny construct of clear silicone.
What would become apparent, and that rather quickly, was that the tiny crystal had begun to emit pulses of golden light from within it's core...The strobe quickening as it drew in the vile mental energies, cleansed them, and pumped them out and into the air around the monk...Creating a shield of pure energy that would not only protect him from the madness upon the wind, but also grow stronger in direct proportion to the strength of those terrible forces.
His mind eased; And so to the tension that left him locked in place.
Clutching it as though it were his only anchor to reality, Dithakar continued moving into the infected area; Able to once again behold the reality of Durem as it was, and seeking the source.
[!] ~”…Only those who effect change, who lead it, may find prosperity.”~[!]
Well, how tremendously fortunate that she just so happened to stumble upon such a nice, selfless person in exactly the wrong part of the city. Such a sweet, innocent smile (tinged with an ever so subtle hint of... regret? It was hard to tell...), and all she wanted to do was ta- ...aaaake the food!? Woah there! Red flag! RED FLAG! Oh-ho-ho-no, she was not falling for that again. Fool her once, shame on you. Overpower her twice (...okay, maybe five... err, sssseven?... bah, who was counting anyway?!) shame on you again! But fool her any more than that and she only had herself to blame.
Needless to say the look on her face quickly shifted to one of alarm. Her most prized possession quickly returned to its previous home tucked tightly beneath her arm and she backpedaled out of reach like the god of ham himself had returned to reclaim his rightful domain. At the child's distress the sleeping behemoth within stirred. It could not wake, but even the smallest of its drowsy churns sent a wave of elemental mana cascading through its host's tiny body. Who would then proceed to take the raw power in clumsy, untrained hands and wield it, infusing a nearby puddle with a needlessly large portion of the energy. From there she stomped her foot on the ground to send the water bursting up in all directions, with only just enough mana left over to activate a crude spell and disappear in a flash of light.
Of course, crude was the key word, for in reality she could only press herself against the wall and hold her breath while the floating droplets of sparkling water that had become a Glimmer spell bent the light around her so that normal eyes could not see her. Sound? Well, she just needed to remain perfectly still. She was good at that. Other senses? ...could be a problem. Though aside from that strange, comforting sensation a few moments ago she had no reason to believe this woman was anything other than an unfortunate soul also trying to survive on these merciless streets. She felt a little sorry for her. After all she did seem kinda nice... but her own aching stomach was demanding that she feel just a little more sorry for herself right now.
Nadine woke up in an unfamiliar apartment with a throbbing in her head and a taste in her mouth like she'd swallowed an ashtray. Possibly she had. The owner of the apartment - a girl with cat ears and entirely too many figurines with eyes as big as their heads - was nowhere to be found. After a shower so scalding it turned her brown skin red, she began scouring the apartment for a suitable outfit.
Catgirl's roommate had a closet better-suited to Nadine's taste, and so the stick-thin twenty-something emerged on the fire escape in a dress that was clearly a large man's tank top and a pair of gray knit socks that sat at mid thigh. A few of her plastic nails had come unglued, revealing the close-bitten stubs underneath, but she didn't seem to mind. Her shoes, sneaker wedges in a magnificently hideous metallic orange, were ill-suited to climbing up and down rusted metal ladders, but it wasn't as if that had stopped her before. Clambering gracelessly onto the roof, she pulled a cigarette out of her messenger bag and settled in on the edge of the building to smoke. Rifling through a leather wallet that said kawaii ********] on it, she found a twenty and tossed the former container aside.
It's not stealing if she owes me dinner.
She took a long drag, exhaled smoke out her aquiline nose like a disgruntled dragon. It was dragons she had on her mind, a news story viewed in passing and ignored until now in favor of warm bodies. Green eyes turned to the sky as she adjusted her glasses, as if at any moment scales would emerge from between the clouds. Then again, for all she knew it was a completely different dragon. Maybe she just couldn't tell the difference between dragons. Maybe she was... dragon racist.
The hair was starting to grow back in on the sides of her head, and she rubbed the black fuzz idly; the curls atop her scalp were still damp, hanging limp over her forehead. Dragons or no, it was looking like this city wouldn't suit for extended barhopping; Nadine generally disapproved of anywhere that one of the seasons was on fire.
"I," she declared finally to the empty roof, "am gonna get my muthafuggin' sweet and sour on. Some straight-up fluorescent, toxic s**t." She emphasized this point by blowing a suspiciously heart-shaped smoke ring into the air.
Smokey had been glad to rid himself of most of the attention and hopefully any of the blame that he had unwittingly gained from the little debacle in the Red Light District--though, if he had indeed stuck around for the ensuing chaos, it was highly unlikely that he would have been the worst of anyone's worries. But since he knew naught of such things, the dragon had laid low, ironically, by ducking into the safety of the clouds and idly hovering above the city. Keenly, he had kept himself occupied with searching for anything more interesting than a mouse but certainly less interesting than a clusterf--
Tindome
. . . a suspiciously heart-shaped smoke ring into the air.
He stalled his flight upon the sight of the ethereal thing, and was suddenly, for a few short moments, at a loss for thoughts. Memory stirred, even in his brief stunned state, as he processed the ashen heart. A disorienting thing it was, crafted with love (as if the symbolism couldn't get any simpler) and so rare and far out of its element that when it at last began to fade off upon being battered away by the flapping of his great wings, Smokey was left with a sentiment that stung suspiciously like disappointment. It was a feeling he refused to succumb to, so he followed in whatever direction he guessed was best in a slow glide down.
Somebody stood atop a roof. Defiant, lonely, triumphant--it was hard to tell. The reptilian beast drew closer, making his nimble way between buildings and chimneys and other such bothers. After entering an appropriate vicinity, it was then that the dragon found himself succumbing not to a feeling of disappointment, but one of great elation, instead. Puffs of smoke excitedly filed out his nostrils as he exhaled in short, enthusiastic bursts as he quickly advanced upon the rooftop. Even before he went to land behind the lone figure, he'd eagerly made his thoughts known.
At the first sight of green scales sliding through the air, Nadine was balancing on unbalanced toes as if being 5’5” instead of 5’4” would make that much a difference, flailing her arms as if he had not already seen her. It looked, in theory, like a particularly boisterous wave - and noisy, thanks to the bracelets jangling on her left wrist. This flailing stopped when the cherry of her cigarette dislodged itself and landed in her hair, at which point a new and more desperate style of flailing began. Eventually, when she was absolutely sure that she was neither on fire nor about to flail off the edge of the building, she turned a too-wide grin to her new - or rather, old - companion.
“Smokey! Smokemeister! Smokester!” Her burned-out cigarette was tossed over her shoulder and into the street, and in her excitement it took her a moment to recall that she had never actually said goodbye. Not that she ever did. Somehow, her preference for slipping out windows and cities without warning seemed less charmingly quirky where Smokey was concerned. Not that it ever was. She was self-aware enough to know that it was cowardly abandonment at the best of times, but usually she had the sense not to care. Dragons sort of threw a wrench in the works, as these things went.
Her head still hurt, her brain slamming itself against the front of her skull as if to escape out her eyes, but she ignored it like she always did.
“Been havin' fun without me? I bet you have! Probably a lot easier to party dragon-style without any mammals gettin' in the way of the pyrotechnics.” It wasn’t a lie so much as an insinuation, that maybe she’d left for his sake, that maybe she’d been selfless.
I don’t think he can blame me for leaving. I mean, right? That town was awful. Utterly awful. A few good reptiles, I think there was a sexy mummy, but, come on: awful. He probably didn’t even miss me. He’s like, a million years old. I was barely a blink in his eye. It’s shocking he even remembers me. WHO EVEN CARES GEEZE he’s just a supercool dragonbro who cares what he thinks
“Wanna go get Chinese food and catch up?” she suggested lightly, jabbing a thumb at the street behind her and thinking of the money in her bag. “I mean, we could get gyros but it seems like a waste while we’re here. I was thinkin' western-style fake buffet but you seem like you’d be more into Szechuan. Maybe it’s the fire-breathin' thing making me think that. Do you think they have one of those places with Chinese food and donuts? I'm imagining a cheese danish with that bright pink stuff you dip wontons in and it sounds amazing, why have I never tried that before.” She was as expressive as ever, hands moving through air as she spoke, rocking back and forth on her feet like a fighting game idle animation. What she really needed was more booze, but it seemed like a good idea to eat first. As long as she was catching up with fire-breathing friends.
arrowLocation: The Red Light District - aka where all the crazy s**t is happening
This whole situation was quickly getting out of hand, far too rapidly for the sorceress to process. Raien had never intended for any of this to happen. Unfortunately, trouble always seemed to loom unassumingly in the shadows at every turn but these were not the demons of her own creation, nor were these new arrivals onto the scene interested in her whatsoever.
No no, they were here for him.
Looking to hurt, destroy and n** at him like rabid dogs all fighting for a piece like the sorcerer were a solitary steak.
Connor.
Radek.
People she had known before, if only briefly in the past, but she knew what had lured them out here in the middle of the night. Moths to a flame. He was practically hemorrhaging that cursed power, and the all too familiar taint call of the Empyrean was very hard to ignore for beings like them. It all started because of a single, filthy vampire that was too bold to know better and yet smart enough to flee when another, seemingly easier target crossed her senses.
She tried to grip Damnatus' shoulder, but her fingers sunk deep into a fleshy, malleable mass where a solid forearm should have been. Startled, she withdrew her hand quickly and immediately recognized what was happening. He was content to "shed" his disguise with so little regard and face these new obstacles with a sort of glee only a madman could possibly express. Not a minute later did he stop and welcome his unintentional enemies. That horrible, tainted energy radiated from his distorted guise and touched all of them, or those who were directly within his warpath, and on each had a profoundly different effect.
Even as someone more than a little inured to the touch of the empyrean, she still faltered in her step as her mind was involuntarily thrust back into recollection. The images that flitted across her subconscious were vague, familiar and most of all - unwanted. Though her participation in Heaven or Hell had been extremely brief, her personal encounter with the sorcerer had been the scene to end it all... As it always did, such exposure to the changing energies turned every little hair up on end and just about made her stomach turn. Fortunately, she had been expecting as much, this little outburst, and forced herself to quite literally grin and bear it and even go so far as to distract herself with the current goings on. For if she did not, her own troubled mind would consume her.
She held it together (if barely). Had to. No one else was in his corner. No one but her.
Raien felt the pressure from all sides as the predators closed in on them. With so little time to prepare, she silenced her inner demons and hastily bent down to scrawl on the filthy ground a small rune (with a piece of chalk procured from her own pockets), all the while visualizing an enclosing circle around her companion and self. She lifted her head just in time to see one of the twisted, abominations (as Damnatus might refer to them) finish with the vampire and turn his focus on the sorcerer.
s**t s**t.
"Parada!"
Though an ordinary spoken command in a foreign dialect, it was by forcing power into it and the continued visualization that caused the near-completely transparent barrier to manifest between the attacking party and themselves. A magic circle. She had haphazardly created it just to throw the charging monstrosity off guard, even if just for a brief moment.
She leered at both him and Connor with such disdain, making it plainly obvious where her loyalties lay. Connor might have once earned her sympathies and pity for being tricked and manipulated, but now - he was simply an obstacle and in their way.
+++Dzan smirked at the words. They would assume he just left the planet when he walked away from here, but that probably wouldn't be the case. He'd probably go to the outskirts of society once more and disappear, but he'd always come back to cause bloodshed and to rile the spirits of people like those before him. He knew the young pup would think of his actions in the name of cowardice, but to Dzan? Death and survival was the only two things in life. If he was the last one standing, who the gak cared what the other thought?
+++Finally, his eyes would cross over the two of them as James walked off. "You think I won't be back? Ha. I'm like the boogeyman. There'll be another if it's not me, and on words for the kid? He's not on this planet. Bianca would've never let him come to this Warp-damned place."
+++As he began to walk off he'd turn on his lip and pull out a lighter that had been there the entire time and lit the lho-stick before looking over his shoulder. A sadistic smirk upon his lips as he walked dangerously close to the gas and oil slick before he'd begin to walk off all the more. The backpack would be left behind as a gift to some homeless dude. It had slith that was worth money. Regardless, he'd chuckle outwardly as they'd watch him disappear. Dzan would be back. Dzan always came back.
arrow Downtown, en-route to the Redlight District.
"Vroom."
"Putterputterputter."
"VROOM!"
As the young man continued on his route down the alley, he'd begin hearing what sounded like someone trying their hardest at sounding like a car, trying hard enough that whoever it was actually making an idling sound-alike. With a cigarette resting in his mouth, each exhale would force the smoke behind the sound making figure, resembling that of an active exhaust. Eventually, the figure would come into view, slowly pulling up in front of the alleyway, his head turned suddenly forcing his gaze down the alley. Each knee had been bent, and his back arched forward as if he had been actually sitting in the driver seat of a vehicle.
Without warning, his right hand left the imaginary steering wheel, and would grip a imaginary tommy-gun! The opposite hand following the motion, supporting the furthest grip on the gun, the right hand pulling the trigger.
"Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!"
"VROOM!"
With a hard push of the petal, the car began moving again, definitely not as quickly as a car... But Marcus was on the move once more, doing an awkward walk forward, attempting to pass the alley so the man walking toward him couldn't react to the drive by.
"Heh." James knew who it was almost instantly, for they had encountered each other once before. Though they never exchanged names, it was clearly the crazy man driving imaginary cars around Gaia. Apparently he had left The Yard and was now 'driving' around Durem. He slowly crept into view, his awkward walk being almost side splitting in its appearance. James was barely able to stifle a laugh.
Soon his hand extended toward the former gang leader, James put his metal hand up defensively just in case but didn't really do much else, James was quite sure this fellow was a harmless nutjob.
"Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!"
"VROOM!"
James recoiled, grabbing his chest and looking down at his hands at the imaginary blood that now covered his form. To die like this? In an Alley in Durem? A sad way to go. He dropped to his knees as Marcus 'sped off', clutching his imaginary wounds and moaning in pain. If he lived, he would repay this monster!
Marcus had accomplished his first drive-by shooting!
Reaching up, Marcus would adjust his rear-view mirror, gazing into it for a sign of retaliation from the man that he had just gunned down for no apparent reason. Nothing! Slowing the vehicle, the idling noise would come back into play for a short while, then all would go silent.
"Creek."
Another sound effect escaped his mouth, this time it was for the door, Marcus had exited the vehicle after parking. Walking slowly, he'd creep against the wall of the nearest building, flattening his back against it as he began side-stepping. Each arm would sprawl out against the wall in a dramatic way as he sneaked toward the entrance of the alley. Upon reaching the turn off, Marcus would peek around the corner, staring into the alleyway for a sign of life. James was down!
With a sudden leap, Marcus would land in the direct center of the entrance, each hand landed on their closet hip. Shuffling would happen before they grabbed hold of something. "Swish swish swish!" Marcus would try his best at mimicking the sound of pistols twirling in his hands, and then he began his approach. Taking one exaggerated step at a time, as if he was dueling someone in a western movie.
"BANG BANG BANG!"
A total of three shots had been fired, not at his downed opponent, but at no-one in particular. Marcus would then dive behind the dumpster to his left, rolling as the dive came to a close, taking cover to the best of his ability. "Pssst, you're not dead, I didn't shoot you anywhere vital. Now get up and help me with these yellow-bellied sons of bitches!" The last part of his speech was in a Southern accent.
