[BATT] How to Catch a Dragon (Kursha + Stryke)

[Green Minuet]

When: Sometime after Bloodfest
Where: Chittentown, Stryke's hive

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

Everything had the sands of time written all over it. Dust had collected everywhere in his absence over the last sweep.

In his thoughts, this place had been so far away. It was a shame really; he’d finally been comfortable before reality had come crashing down on top of him. Once upon a time, Stryke's hive use to be tidy. Not a single speck of dust lined a single shelf or carefully placed knickknack. He’d been put in his place like the rest of those displaced during the dangers of the swamp and the finding of Salamire Outpost. Only now trying to remember what everything looked like in his hive beforehand was futile. Try as he might capturing that moment was long gone, too much had transpired. There was no rewinding this clock, the yellowblood psionic had chosen his path when he chose to stay and protect the Phoenix Initiatives Mothergrub. While Stryke did not regret his choice, he still was haunted by the ghost of his former life.

The house was awake with the shadows and monsters of his past. The hallways, they echoed with the now ancient history. His memories fed on insecurities Stryke tried to keep buried and hidden behind the strong front he put up.

From the looks of things, his hive had been rummaged by drones looking for information, and things knocked off. Several broken items littered the floor, their importance of little meaning or value now that they had been shattered across the wooden floors. In truth, the place looked abandoned, as it surely had become. The only reason he was here was the temptation of being so near after Bloodfest. It was his horde. His stash of things he'd managed to acquire after the destruction of Old Hemisect. Old habits die hard, and Stryke could not resist the temptation any longer. He figured the trip would be fast, he'd be gone before anyone even realized he had been there with any luck.

jussst a few more things...than it really is time to make peace with the situation and move on.

Stryke wanted to exercise his mind, and be free of his nagging desire to come back one last time. He knew the dangers, and that he shouldn’t risk himself for stupid things like books, an old pocket watch and a couple crappy tea cups or two.

Dressed as the orangeblood Daquan Brandir, he'd felt safe enough to slip back into town late one night and try and acquire a few of his old things. The small trip he'd made with his lusus while still injured, and his encounter with Sarcel still resonated with him. He knew better then to be back here. i can't help it..there's that stupid sssentimental value.... Giving up what was his was still so damn hard. As he gazed around his former residence, it became apparent that almost nothing had changed. Strange, given how much different he felt compared to the small boy that once dwelled within these very same walls.

Once he'd let himself in the door, finding it unlocked Stryke quietly closed it latching it behind him. Swallowing nervously, a dim yellow glow flickered around him before fading from site. It was unnerving being back here. Stryke didn't even have Skinkdad with him this time, it only made him that much more uncomfortable. Quickly he walked inside, each footstep of his boots seemed to resonate as he began rifling around. Adding a few odds and end to his bag he intended to gather up things so he could leave just as quickly as he came..with any luck.  

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Kursha leaned against the counter, admiring the various firearms hanging from the walls, while the yellowblooded sales associate went to unlock the display cabinet. Despite the lowblood population, the meagre income, and questionable politics, Chittentown continued to pump out some of the best technology on Alternia, and high quality firearms were no exception. Sure New Hemisect was better known for it's military grade weaponry, but Kursha did not need anything quite that lethal. Regular rifle rounds would do just fine. Besides, he was in the area.

A muted, steady drone came from the radio clipped at his hip. So far the night had been quiet. The only conversation came from a couple of drones on another pair of receivers, sharing jokes to pass the time. Every so often another voice would cut in with a report, alerting personnel to delinquents vandalising the elevators on the north ridge, or a shop-lifter down at the Swift-E-Mart. Even minor cases like that were far and few in between though. Were he not also picking up ammunition, tonight's expedition might have turned out to be just another waste of time.

“Go ahead and get me a dozen,” Kursha called over his shoulder. He heard the rattle of keys, and a second later a creak as the display case swung open. While the yellowblood gathered up the cases, Kursha zoned out, gaze idling on a bayonet. Despite the current lack of work to do, he was in a good place. He had a sense of purpose, and what's more a job to shape his nights by. It helped to put his ordinarily busy mind at ease.

The yellowblood had placed the last of the cases on the counter. Kursha reached to retrieve his wallet as she began to ring them up, only to pause when a new voice interjected over the radio chatter. He grabbed the radio instead, and made a motion for the clerk to wait.

“Hey, this is Vidari.” Kursha spoke into the radio. “Could you say that hive number for me again? Over.” His thumb pushed up the dial for volume.

“Hey, Vidari,” the same voice replied. “That was #61220001. Requesting back-up for a suspicious person on the premises. Over.”

“Is that near the old fluid redistribution station? Over.” Kursha asked.

“Affirmative. Just off 128th Street North. Over.”

“Great. Copy that. I'm on my way. Keep your lookstubs on the target, but don't engage. ETA is ten minutes. Vidari out.” With that he returned the radio to his belt. His glanced over to the clerk. Her eyes went between him and the cartridges.

“Should I...?” she started to ask.

Kursha shook his head. “Nah, just put 'em off to one side. If I'm not back by morning, go ahead and shelve them. For now though, I've gotta run.”

leon_a_darkangel

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

Stryke looked around the hive he'd one called his own with a searching expression. As the minutes ticked by, his restless anxiety began to fester and grow. Gathering up what he wanted was no easier now than it was the last time he was here. The walls still seemed so familiar, in a haunted sense of a surreal ethereal dream. It felt weird to think of this place as being abandoned. It was likely still under heavy surveillance. Swallowing nervously, Stryke finished packing his bag as he made his way to get ready to leave. The yellowblood feared if he lingered for much longer he'd up running out of luck. Up until now h had been very lucky, if not fortunate in keeping under the radar. Of course he was playing with fire.

In truth Stryke been drawn like a moth to the flame for one last chance to try and acquire old journals, and books he had thought lost to him permanently.

Slinging his knapsack over his back, he adjusted the weight with the straps before he made his way towards the back door to slip out and onto the streets to make his way out of town. Stryke could only hope no one had noticed him, or that he could get lost in the crowd before anything to serious occurred.

Green Minuet

 

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 20
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: [ACTIVE]
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

Crouched on a rooftop, rifle pressed to his shoulder, Kursha surveyed the street below for any sign of movement from the hive. It looked exactly as he remembered it, a small, cramped dwelling tucked among a dozen others, all virtually identical to one another. A memory of a time he had spent staggering after a yellowblood, bolt in his gut, floated to the surface of his thinkpan. He pushed it back. That was work then, and this was work now. Nothing had changed.

A movement near the back of the hive attracted his attention. Kursha shifted his position to get a better view. An orangeblood emerged from the side door, carrying full bags. A looter perhaps. Kursha’s pupils switched to crosshairs, and he stared intently into the orangeblood’s back. No… not an orangeblood. As the troll turned, Kursha saw a face he recognised all too well.

“Bingo. Sorry, Double O... You can't fool me with that.”

Kursha observed Stryke for a moment, content to take his time in case anyone else showed up. With the door closed behind him, the yellowblood glanced up and down the street, no doubt searching for any witnesses. “Up here, buddy,” Kursha murmured. “You’re looking in the wrong place.” The yellowblood of course did not hear him. He turned to start down the alleyway. Kursha gave him three paces before he pulled the trigger.

The shot landed in the back of Stryke’s shoulder. Kursha did not wait around to see his reaction. Grabbing his rifle, he jumped to his feet and sprinted towards the edge of the rooftop. He all but slid down the fire escape, taking two to three rungs at a time. He jumped the last six feet, and as soon as he landed, took off at a run.

Rounding the corner to the alleyway, Kursha slowed. He called out, “You know it’s a crime to misrepresent your blood.”

[ Kursha does 8 damage. ]

leon_a_darkangel

Wham, bam. Here we go! Also Kursha's power technically upgrades (though we're saving that for later in the match! <3)

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

The blossoming heat of agony split every fiber of Stryke's being. Pain blinded his vision as yellow translucent tears slid down his cheeks.

His world ignited with a tingling horrible burning pain. It tore a blood curdling scream from Stryke's lips as he hissed in discomfort, swearing in retort. His fingers twitched, dropping instantly the bag he'd been holding. Staggering a step or two, he grabbed for the injured side. A spray of citrine colored blood had hit the wall. His breathing became ragged after the impact. His right shoulder was throbbing, leaving his hand nearly useless outside the small finger movements he was capable of. Even that ached. Stryke had been lucky it wasn't his left side.

The yellowblood heard an all too familiar voice call out to him. Stryke felt numbness creep into his thinkpan. His eyes turned then to the figure at the alleyway entrance. kursha. kursha ******** vidari. Disgust, and anger registered on his features. Stryke bit back a whimpered sound of pain as he clenched his teeth, inhaling sharply through his nostrils.

Stryke leveled the greenblood a cold glare. "oh yesss. firing within a resssidential area is sssooo much better...!" Stryke replied dryly, his tone dripping with cynical discontent. Stryke kept a tight leash on the well of psionic energy that swelled in his thinkpan and body. It was a shame he hadn't known the shot was coming until after the fact.

"kursssha!" Stryke advanced on the other. He'd dropped the bags he was carrying. Anger and purpose moved him, his fingers unsnapped his left hands dagger as he drew it, holding it firmly. Stryke ran at him even with the risk of being shot was liable. "don't you dare get self righteous with me! you selfish bassstard!" He hissed venomously, a well of untouched emotions rising rather violently to the surface.

His rage was tangible, not just for the fact he'd shot him. It was for everything. For leading the Hunt, and trying to kill everyone they knew for the sake of saving face and chasing glory. It was for risking everyone's lives...It was for not telling him he wanted to leave the rebellion. Most of all..it was for the door that had been closed between them. Kursha had hurt him before, physically. Yet he had never so completely hurt him so as the day he'd come with the intent to capture or eliminate every troll involved that didn't go quietly with him. Stryke had always found ways to forgive the other, at least until that moment. His anger was righteous, and was much like the others grand entrance. It was sudden, and came full force. He didn't even care what happened to him. Stryke was pissed off, hurt and worst of all he felt like he'd been betrayed again.

Actions spoke louder than words. Kursha had chosen his path, as had Stryke. It was more obvious than ever.

HP: 12/20
DMG: 2 DMG
Power: Novice Defensive - Style B: 1/1
Artifact: Novice Offensive A - 2/2

Green Minuet.

 

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 18
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: 1/2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

Stryke came flying towards him, full of retribution and fury. Before Kursha could get in a second shot, the yellowblood was on top of him, swinging his knife. The blade bit into his chest and Kursha lurched back. He held his rifle between them, to stave off further attacks. The sharp ringing of metal resounded through the alleyway.

“And here I thought we could talk a little,” Kursha teased, as he parried another strike from the yellowblood. Staying on the defence, he backed up into the street.

leon_a_darkangel_

[ Kursha does 0 damage. ]

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

"...you want to talk after shooting me?" Stryke's eyes bored into the other. The outright disbelief registered as Stryke blinked at him several times, the yellowblood felt rooted in place momentarily. His hand at his side curled into a fist. Even as his blade drew greenblood and raised his gun to protect himself, Stryke did not pull back.

"what do you WANT exactly!?" He raised his voice in frustration. As Kursha backed off his injured side moved. Stryke forced the action even with the twinge of pain. Pulling out his pocket watch, he advanced on the other winding it up as he usually did for soothing his nerves. Only the artifact was not as innocent as it appeared. The little device clicked, ticking loudly before popping open suddenly as yellow light shot from it like a beam. While his aim was poor due to the injury, Stryke aimed it directly at the other once he put distance between them. "it ssseems cheap when you already have a clear objective in mind..right?" Stryke looked to him, his expression blank as if he believed the other intended to kill him.

Stryke moved forward again...forcing the other to stay on the defensive even as it went into the streets.

HP: 12/20
DMG: 3 DMG
Power: Novice Defensive - Style B: 1/1
Artifact: Novice Offensive A - 1/2 - Used!  

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 15
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: 1/2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

Kursha would have thought that he rendered the yellowblood's right arm useless after his sniper shot, but apparently not. He let out a pained hiss as the concealed laser struck his side. A second later, he smelt the distinctive scent of burning flesh. “You're right. You would know all about it,” he drawled. He took a swing at Stryke with the butt of the rifle. “Got any more tricks, Double O?”

leon_a_darkangel

[ Kursha does 0 damage. ]

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

Stryke felt tears prin picking at his eyes as he had to shuffle the watch back into it's pouch. The weight from holding it was to much. The pocketing was clumsily so given he was engaged in a dangerous match of survival. "ssstop...calling me that." He grit his teeth looking to him as he shook his head.

The yellowblood cringed as the other asked him if he had anything other tricks. "does it matter if i did?" When the other took a swing at him with his rifle, Stryke was forced to back off.

HP: 12/20
DMG: 0 DMG
Power: Novice Defensive - Style B: 1/1
Artifact: Novice Offensive A - 1/2

Green Minuet_

 

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 15
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: 1/2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

Kursha kept pressing his assault. The butt of the rifle swung round this way and that, searching for a point of impact. Each swing seemed to come faster than the last. He would leave no room for retaliation, no room for escape. Gradually his attacks drove the yellowblood further down the alleyway.

“Would you prefer if I called you by your case number?” Kursha teased. He had yet to strike another blow on the yellowblood, but that hardly mattered. The match had already been decided when Stryke took a bullet to the shoulder.

leon_a_darkangel

[ Kursha does 0 damage. ]

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

"so what, you just change loyalties whenever it suits you best?!" Stryke clenched his teeth, anger and pain making him clumsy as he moved away from the other's aggressive assault. Stryke had to keep moving. The rifle butt kept coming for him, leaving Stryke no time to retaliate. His shoulder was agonizing, but he used it as reason to keep out of his swinging his weapon at him.

"back OFF kursha. i'm not going to be taken in." Stryke leveled him an icy glare, a quick swipe of his dagger meant to cut him coming just shy of making contact.

HP: 12/20
DMG: 0 DMG
Power: Novice Defensive - Style B: 1/1
Artifact: Novice Offensive A - 1/2

Green Minuet

 

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 15
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: 1/2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

“My loyalties were never with the rebels,” Kursha sneered between blows. Even as he prepared another swing though, he jerked back. Stryke's dagger cut through where he had stood only a half second before. The blade missed him only by a narrow margin. Yet somehow it still stung.

“You'd rather die then,” Kursha retorted. He did not wait for a reply. In what looked like one fluid movement, he brought the rifle stock to his shoulder, flipped the safety, and pulled the trigger.

[ Kursha does 4 damage. ]

 

[leon_a_darkangel]

Stryke was fairly certain the pain radiating from his injury was plenty enough to be useless. It was agonizing moving any part of the arm. Even finger movement was uncomfortable. Looking to Kursha, a part of him felt something go numb hearing him. "so..it never meant anything..?" He questioned in a hollow tone he watched the other raise the rifle. He'd stopped trying to understand the moment Stryke had realized he'd been played for a fool.

The motion was so fluid. Stryke watched as he placed the gun to his shoulder. The yellowblood heard the trigger flip. The sound of gunfire went off as the hairs on the back of his neck raised. Everything seemed to narrow down to a single point, at least from his perception of time. This was the second time Kursha had aimed to shoot him.

"what? n-NO!?" On reflex his good arm covered his face, his blood had run cold from the reality of the situation. This was not like that time in the alley in Chittentown. He meant to kill him. Even as he dreaded what would happen, Stryke felt his senses go on high alert.

Tick.Tock.

A glimmer of yellows, reds and oranges flared to life. The shapes morphed, shaping and creating one of several neatly simulated clocks. The bullet stopped mid motion as Stryke stood froze in fear. Realizing he did not feel the bite of the weapons sting he realized it had happened again. Backing away, it gave Stryke time to avoid the incoming shot. "you are wrong..i chossse to live and will always find a way!" He snapped, panting as he was out of breath as he stumbled to keep his balance.

Weakness made his body feel heavy, although his psionics had not faded from existence. Stryke narrowed his eyes on Kursha, his fingers switch from the pocket laser he kept to his dagger. This was far from over..at least until the blood loss took him.


HP: 12/20
DMG: 0 DMG
Power: Novice Defensive - Style B: 1/1 4 DMG nulled
Artifact: Novice Offensive A - 1/2  

[Green Minuet]

[+] Kursha Vidari

Health: 15
Military Grade Rifle +1
Eagle Eyes: 1/2
Agility B Trinket: 1/1

Just as the bullet froze, so did Kursha. He stared, slack-jawed at the round suspended motionless in the air. The ticking of the psionic clocks filled the brief silence. After a second he seemed to recover. “That's... interesting,” he managed.

Behind the stoic mask, the greenblood's thoughts were in turmoil. Since when? Since when did Stryke possess psionic abilities? He was a snivelling, pathetic, worthless yellowblood, of no use to anyone or anything. Or so Kursha had thought. Time and time again, Stryke continued to surprise him. And now, he surprised him once more, with the ability to stop time. A sour feeling pinched Kursha's gut. His throat felt tight. Why had he not found out sooner? How long had Stryke been tricking him?

His body moved on his own. The butt of the rifle came hurtling towards Stryke's head. Even as he swung his weapon, Kursha aimed a kick towards the yellowblood's gut with his opposite foot. His face was full of fury.

[ Kursha does 2 damage. ]

leon_a_darkangel

Feel free to stop the gun with more time magics if you want!