Immediately the gentleman's mood soured. Despite the man's warning, and his very clear threat, he was now being attacked by three different inbred swine. How dumb were they? They had such difficulties against his cretin like minions, each barely a fraction of his strength, and now they thought it was a good idea to attack him? Sure, it could be viewed as though they were there to defend their friend, but the Jailer just didn't understand it. They had a chance to keep themselves alive, and threw it away. He shook his head in annoyance, none of which appeared on his face, and prepared himself for the incoming onslaught.
First came the weird little girl, the one covered in black tar, that she could transform at will, at a much better rate than the poor imbecile that had been his initial opponent. She came in with a swiping blow at his torso. However, the speed she was moving, he might as well have been watching the fight in slow motion. Every step she took was obvious, and the twist of her body gave the exact coordinates of her attack away long before she even launched it. Thus, it was with ridiculous ease, in the very same bored fashion it had been using since the start of the fight that it side stepped the attack, the claws not even coming remotely close enough to be considered dangerous.
Next came the little white haired twerp, who seemed to be the ranged support of the group, despite being basically useless like the rest of them. He threw his stupid little weapons at the Jailer, attempting to wrap him up in them, while simultaneously landing on his back. That was dreadfully annoying. Before the wires were able to wrap around him, he leaped into the air, likely sending the little lad sprawling, as his footing suddenly removed itself. He had noticed, because just like with the tar girl, he was moving in slow motion to the Jailer, that the wires on those little toys were much stronger than they appeared, and the gentlemanly core did not want to tangle with them.
He glared at the children that dared to interrupt his fight, and then turned that glare onto their leader. Shouldn't he have more authority over them? What kind of squad commander couldn't control his subordinates? How pathetic. Speaking of said man, he was busy transforming again. This time it seemed to go over well enough, as he actually managed to completely transform, instead of that gross looking half transformation. However, once more, he turned away from their duel. This enraged the Jailer, who completely disregarded everything the p***k said, choosing instead to glare at him more fiercely, ignoring the oddly familiar feeling that came from him.
Apparently this new form of the plebeian was significantly more skilled, because even with a broken leg, the guy was able to move rather well. He thrust himself into the sky and brought his weapon down with incredible speed. Despite the Jailer's best attempt to dodge, the attack slipped through his guard and sundered his arm from his body, the now useless limb clattering to the ground in a heap of metal. However, while the damage was extensive, it did not take the gentleman out of the game. He slammed his cane down on the ground, and stopped the attack dead, the blade banging into the side of his cane, causing a resounding clang to echo outwards.
Seemingly completely unperturbed by the fact that his arm was removed the Jailer took a few steps backwards, as if totally at ease in the situation it was in. Which, let's face it, he could very well be. He was in control of this fight. The only shot at victory they had was standing with one foot in a grave, and the other on oil slick. Outside of him, there was two very annoying little pests to deal with, but they would offer about as much challenge as swatting a fly.
That is to say, none.
Now, he recognized, even more so with his arm moving, his most dangerous opponent was the transformed man in front of him. He doesn't know what the transformations offered the man, nor does he know exactly how strong he is now, but he was a gentleman, and any good sir does not go back on his word. He promised the children would pay the price for interfering and he would be damned if he went back on that. He turned his attention to them, deciding which one would be the best target. On the one hand there was the one covered in the tar, but she was easily the slowest here, her armor made her seem like a possible target, but honestly she was nothing more than a nuisance.
The white haired one, on the other hand, had the potential to be annoying. While his attack and tactic hadn't worked out fantastically, it had put the Jailer in a position to take an attack from that sickly looking Baiter, from whom the earlier familiar feeling became a bit clearer, but it was still outside the reach of the Jailer, his fury clouding his ordinarily good judgement.
He would be the target.
Without a second thought, the Jailer shot right for him, his cane coming up in a ready stance without so much as a second thought. He stepped right inside the guard of the kid, sending an attack towards his head, before pulling back and thrusting towards the center of his chest. The gentleman then swirled around the kid, his speed simply that great, before throwing an attack at the back of his head, pulling it back and whipping it over top of the kid and whipping it down towards one of his legs. Finally, the Jailer stepped back again and thrust his cane towards the center of the young man's spine, attempting to leave him crippled.
If the kid managed to dodge all of that, the Jailer would be incredibly impressed, but since he was sure he wouldn't, the Jailer turned his attention towards the oldest Baiter there, and sent a dark smirk at him, despite how ungentlemanly it was. Despite the seeming lack of care the guy was showing, the Jailer knew a part of him would be upset at the damage he just dealt to one of his wards, and right now the Jailer relished in it.
Line Count: 3245
OOC:
Quote:
Jailer
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 200 Health: 470/805
Skill: 100 Strength: 150 Defense: 150
Tactical Advantage:Solomon's Chains: You have a heightened ability to control A.I. and to repel their attempts at controlling you. This enhanced durability of the body and mind allows you to control stronger A.I. Cores than those of the average Baiter of your same strength. You gain 10% additional Control Limit.
Watching her attack slide by, utterly useless, caused Thre to deflate slightly. She knew going into it she wasn't going to be much help, but seeing just how completely outclassed she was caused even her a moment of pause. This was simply incredible, and not in a good way. She had always been the strongest, the fastest, the most agile. Never before has she had such issues when it comes to fighting! Now, not only had this fight lasted nearly ten times longer than any other instance of violence in her life, but here she was, facing the strong likely hood of death. This filled her with dread, both her own and Summer's, which made her feel even worse.
She couldn't believe she had done this. She blamed Acel and his pet.
Her eyes locked onto Ilya, and she watched as he attempted to place himself into the fight as well, planting himself on top of the A.I., before trying to wrap the creature up in his yo-yos. It was actually quite brilliant, might have been genius if it had worked. Unfortunately, the Jailer wasn't even impeded, leaping from a complete standstill out of the trap, and away from the boy. She didn't see what happened to Ilya, instead keeping her eyes locked onto the opponent, waiting to see what he did next.
However, her attention was quickly ripped from the A.I. when Acel called them fools. Her glare was so powerful, the mask that covered her face actually melted backwards to allow it to be seen, her eyes practically glowing with anger. How dare this b*****d assume he had any right to condemn their actions?! How dare he assume he had any right to insult them?! She glowered angrily, fuming, seething, desiring to walk over and plant the full of her biggest fist right in his gut.
Then he transformed.
She watched, one part fascinated, one part mad at herself for being fascinated. Was he like her? Was he not human either? He transformed a lot like she did, but at the same time he appeared to completely change personalities as well, because the moment he started speaking he sounded completely different. However, that was the end of her attempting to care about this change, because once more the man began spouting self-righteous garbage. "Oh ******** shove it. Who do you even think you are? You don't know us!" She growled out, her anger clear as day. Once more she found herself wondering where this guy got off talking like he was king s**t.
Of course, then he went and cut the arm of the A.I. off. Perhaps that's what made him think he was something or someone important enough to act the way he was acting.
Either way, she didn't care. Regardless of the fact the she was doing exactly what he said she was doing, he was ******** nobody to her, thus had no right to tell her off because of it. She made a mental note not to be around him, and to make sure Ilya stayed away too. She didn't want him to be around this person, who acted like a nice guy on the surface, but turned into a total p***k the second they didn't do exactly what he wanted. He was, in every sense of the word, a snake, and she wanted to make sure he never got the chance to sink his fangs into Ilya.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she noted that the Jailer was turning to look at them. Immediately fear gripped her, crawling up and down her spine like a handmade of knives. Her breath became shallow, and her eyes dilated. This monster was about to attack one of them, and without a doubt leave them dead or at the very least completely out of the fight. The second the core's eyes shifted to Ilya, she realized she couldn't allow herself to be frozen. She took off before she even realized what she was doing, ignoring the voice of her screaming core, begging her to stop.
Everything she did from that moment on was without thought. She didn't pause to think, didn't pause to question, didn't pause to listen to the voice in her head. Later she might be able to realize it was the only reason she was able to do what she did, but right now it didn't matter. Right now, what mattered was, she managed to get her hands on, and push away, the youngest male there, out of the line of fire.
What came next was brutal. Not even her armor was able to help her. Due to the shift in position, and difference in height between the two, the attacks didn't quite land where they were intended too. The first smacked right along her shoulder blades, shattering her armor and the bones beneath, ripping a scream from her lips. From that moment on, all she knew was pain. Her chest was devastated from the following blow, pieces of her armor falling to the ground, lines of purple blood falling down in lines along the black material.
At that point that Jailer was able to deal with the shift in target, and the rest of his blows landed right where he intended. The third attack whipped her head forward, her hair spilling out of the back of her broken helmet, as black and white spots danced within the confines of her vision, leaving one to wonder how she was even still conscious at this point. With another horrible, echoing crack her legs were swept out from underneath her, clearly very broken, leaving her a twisted mangled heap on the ground, but the Jailer wasn't finished.
Finally, as he intended, he planted his cane in her spine. The only thing different than planned was it piercing right through her armor, which had spider web cracks going all along every inch of it, and her body with several more cracks, clearly the bones of her spine, ribs and sternum taking some serious damage. The scream that came from the depths of her throat would make a banshee quit in shame, and then there was silence. The only good that came of that was when the rebirth center finally locked onto her signal and pulled her away for reconstruction, meaning no one had to look at what had been left of the little girl.
Quote:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 56 Health: 0/60 Control Limit: 448
Skill: 12 [28] Strength: 50 [66] Defence: 50 [66]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
One Man Army - Level 3 - While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
Ooc:
Line Count: 3369
Raven62
Brotherhood Of Explosives Vice Captain
Mind-boggling Trickster
Offline
Ominous Noodles Crew
Dramatic Fatcat
Offline
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2016 6:49 pm
❅❄❅⋅⋩⋩Безумная Утенок
I F I G H T F O R M Y F R I E N D S
Turn 7 51 - 40 = 11 -100 = 89% Chance
No. No, no, no, oh dear god no, this was not what he wanted to happen. Acel had turned into something he didn’t recognise at all. It screamed at him, screaming that he was irresponsible and stupid and foolish to do what he did. Of course, it was ignorant, and of course it was childish! But what else was he supposed to do? Sit back and play cards with Thre while he died in the heat of battle? So what if he ignored the best survival rate to try and save someone he cared for? He did it because he cared! Anger swelled in the small boy, a feeling that he wasn’t sure he had felt much before. Not to this extreme, at least. Ilya couldn’t stand what Acel thought of him at that moment. He hated that Acel chalked it up to his ego. The boy was eleven years old! And he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart! Because he worried that a friend of his was going to die! Because that was what a friend should do, right?
So that was why he did what he did. That was why he jumped into battle, despite what Acel told him. Why he was willing to sacrifice his life for this person he had just met. Because he was unwilling to let people die without trying to do his best to help. Even if that best was not enough. And in Ilya’s case, it seemed to not be close to enough. His yoyo’s were slapped away like they were nothing, being tossed aside like they were paper planes being thrown in the classroom. Not only this, but the Jailer jumped out of harm's way before Ilya could even land on him, sending the poor boy sprawling on the floor. Pain radiated from his rear end, and he gasped in pain. He didn’t seem to take much damage from the landing, but it was definitely enough to cause him to pause for a moment, attempting to catch his breath.
Long enough of a moment to not be able to dodge the next attack. Long enough that he wasn’t able to stop his best friend from saving his life in one fell swoop. Tears sprung in his eyes when he saw it happen, unable to tear his eyes away. No, he didn’t want that. She shouldn’t have to die for what he had done, or any mistakes he had made during battle. The pain on her concealed face and in her screams were unmistakable, something that he would never to be able to forget. Ilya crawled away from the scene, backing away, but unable to keep his eyes away from the scene before him. His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, and his entire world swept from under him. Did she really have to sacrifice herself for him?
Tears fell freely down his cheeks as he looked up to where the Jailer now was. There was a wicked grin on the things face as he stood there menacingly. This was what it was like being a Baiter. And Ilya had no choice but to live in this God forsaken world he now fought in. No. It wasn’t God forsaken. Not yet. He still had Gavriil, right?
The boy stood, tears still running down his face freeform as he readied himself. Thre had saved his life, and he wasn’t going to let that be in vain.
The little boy dashed forward once again, now ignoring Acel completely. If the man felt that the sacrifice was unimportant, or that it was foolish for them to be doing this. Ilya didn’t care. The man didn’t understand that level of caring, so it seemed, so Ilya didn’t care about the man right at that moment. For now, he just needed to make sure that he couldn’t give up, and that her sacrifice was for nothing. Ilya launched his yoyo’s at the Jailer once more, giving his last attacks his all before he drew that last breath. The yoyo’s launched forward, this time aiming to attack the jailer in the face with a singular powerful hit. Then, that would be the end of it. It didn’t matter after that. Ilya wanted to see his best friend again.
Lines: 3449 OOC:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 43 Health: 620/620 Control Limit: 348
Skill: 38 [--] Strength: 38 [40] Defense: 35 [45]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Tank - Level 1 - Your A.I. Core has imbued you with an inhuman durability. You can shrug off heavier blows with ease that your comrades might not be able to. You gain 10 extra Defense. However, you also receive a -5% to your defensive chances.
Raven62
Shards of Myself
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2016 8:24 am
Turn 7
Acel watched as the kids rushed in, but in his current state--as the angel began to swallow him whole--he could not muster up the needed emotion to care. He had done everything he could have done to protect them. They ignored this and rushed in to their deaths anyways...it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his f--f--fault. His eye twitched as the man avoided her strike, his mind skipping beats as he tried to calm himself. The Jailer was skilled--and Acel had to attain this same level before he would be able to move forward. He had to win this battle--to become stronger. He knew that this would have been one hell of a learning experience for the kids. Their first battle had been one hell of a hard one, but at least he had done what he could. The Jailer made an easy dodge from Ilya's attack as well--and the angel even had to take note of the kid's swift thinking. It was a good call, but he was not able to admire the move for long, as he was swept up in the battle as well, and as he came down toward the Jailer, slamming the blade downward toward him, the b*****d was distracted enough by Ilya, and he blade swept through the Jailer's arm cutting it off completely and letting it tumble to the floor. However, as Acel swung for the second strike, the Jailer was able to stop it with ease once more, even after losing one of its arms it maintained its cool demeanour, acting as though nothing at all had just happened. Acel grinned from ear to ear this time, his body continuing to issue forth steam, a cloud of it that swam around him in ghostly trails as he moved. His face had the tentacles of darkness that seemed to writhe like octopus legs, clinging to his neck and cheek. His eyes like dancing embers from a dying fire as he stood there. Then it happened...so fast...he could do absolutely nothing. The Jailer had told him what would happen if they interfered. The Jailer had told him they would die, and he had warned them they would die, and he had told them...he had told them...had he told them? He grabbed at his hair, a sense of madness washing over him. With the first strike against Thre's armour, Acel's mind exploded into the past--a clear view of Jasmine and Lidia, on the ground. "Yes. Feel it. Remember." He came back to the other side in time for the second strike to land against the little girl, and with the contact he blasted backwards in time once again, each heavy footstep carried him closer to his family.
The echo of the third strike brought him reeling, his eyes wide and crazed as they darted to and fro, scanning the battleground. "Acel, stay with me here, buddy. We have to get through this thing, still." The fourth attack sent him back one last time. His wife's hand was stretched up toward him, begging him...please. Don't. Was he going crazy...why was he seeing this now? They were begging him...they wanted him to save them, he was sure of it. What was she asking him not to do? The last strike--the one that put Thre out for good slammed home and his vision cleared--the view of his wife and child gone. He wheeled around on the battlefield like a caged animal trying to get his bearings as his mind played tricks on him. When they fell on the little girl's twisted form, he snapped back to his past. Lidia...he saw her...the poor four year old girl of his dreams. Dead. His heart stopped in his chest. He could feel the sensation of his skin peeling backwards around his shoulders and lower neck. He could feel the steam continuing to burn through his body and destroy it as quickly as it was regenerating. His eyes lit up like fireworks, and his fists clenched so tightly he could feel his nails biting through the skin. "I told them...I told them what would happen. I told them what would...I told...I..." His head dropped, hanging as if his body had been drained of life. A marionette with no strings. And when his head slowly rose once more, his eyes were aflame with light...no...no they were....gone? Acel could see nothing--blindness was despair. He could hear nothing...feel nothing...he was nothing. Was this...death? Not the baiter's false death to which you could return from...but this was...true death? He was being swallowed whole by his demons...disappearing into the vast knowledge of the code in his body. Absorbed into it--just another casualty of war. "Hey...I know...you're starting to piece things together. Slowly...yeah? But, they believed in you until the end. They still believed you were good.""But....Midas...I am not. I am not. I am not....I--I did this. All of this...it was...oh god...oh..." The lifeless puppet lurched into action, his hands grabbing the short blackened hair and pulling it with everything he had as he issued a bloodcurdling scream to the sky, his socketless eyes steaming still as he turned toward the Jailer.
"Give me back...demon. Give me back..." He ground his teeth together, watching as Ilya dove back into action. He knew that he had been wrong, then, as he remembered how he had thought before--how he had thought about Ilya being a baiter. The strength to survive...to defend himself against the enemy...the strength Lidia did not have. The strength that Jasmine didn't have. His body seemed pulled by an unimaginable force as he streaked across the battlefield, his arms limp and dragging behind him, though they held firm to his swords. As he approached the Jailer he immediately feinted left, and as he did his leg gave out, breaking clean as sending him rolling to the side with the momentum he could not recover--but he could use it. He rolled that way, following what was supposed to be a fake feint and then halfway through it he kicked with his good leg, propelling himself at the Jailer as fast as he could, shooting the blade forward in a stabbing motion toward the Jailer's hip, hoping to slam it through the joints in one of its legs and slow it down. "Give her back...demon. GIVE. ME. BACK. MY. BABY!!!" He screamed, the skin had peeled back from his neck, and the muscles flexed and moved in the open like they were their own separate entity, and he tucked and rolled after stabbing the blade forward. Stopping on the opposite side of the Jailer, he used his good leg to stand quickly, and as he turned around he brought the swords with him, swinging the two of them side by side in a cleaving motion toward the Jailer's neck. If he could...he was going to end this right now.
Line Count: 3575
OOC:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 175 Health: 185/1500 Control Limit: 1400
The Jailer found himself honestly surprised. Of all the things he had thought of happening once the little troglodytes joined, he did not imagine this. It did not stop him from his course of action, oh no, but it surprised him all the same. As he closed in to drop the little white haired annoyance, his small friend literally pushed him out of the way to save his life. From the looks of things, the only reason she managed to hold on after his first strike was sheer will power and adrenaline. The fact that she survived long enough to scream in pain after his final attack was likely due to the speed at which he threw the attacks, and the efficiency at which he was able to shift between the targets.
When he was finished, the scream echoed into the world around them, the empty world. Filled the dead silence with the sound of death itself. Not that he was going to complain. He didn't enjoy killing the child, of course not, he was a gentleman, but they were playing in a big boy world, and so obviously they needed to learn that not everything goes according to plan. Sometimes blood got spilled. Sometimes it was your own. Sometimes it was your friends. Regardless of what happened or why, these things happened. Who better to teach them than a fine, upstanding gentleman like himself?
As she vanished like these Baiters were prone to do upon defeat, the Jailer turned to look at her compatriots.
Each seemed to be suffering something profound at witnessing her death. The kid seemed to almost shatter into pieces witnessing the death of his little friend, only to pull himself back together, stronger than steel. It was rather remarkable. The Jailer had to respect someone who was capable of holding themselves together after witnessing his own ruthlessness.
His attention was turned to the other Baiter, the one who was terrible at this new transformation thing they could do. He seemed to be losing his mind at the death of the child. The gentlemanly Jailer blinked in surprise. Just a moment ago he was giving off this air of apathy, like he didn't care one way or the other, but after witnessing the death of the little girl, he just broke. Unlike the child who was still around, he wasn't able to put himself together.
Suddenly, without warning, his head jerked to the side.
He turned his head slowly to look at the little man who had just landed that blow. He stared the kid down, a hard look in his eyes. He might have been impressed at the child's resolve, but to sucker punch him while he wasn't looking? That was just uncalled for, and unsportsmanlike. His gaze turned towards the babbling imbecile, who had been named as such because he was doing exactly that. Babbling some nonsense. Plus, he was an imbecile, there was no doubt about that as far as the Jailer was concerned.
It only shifted that way so he could bat aside the man's attacks like they were nothing, which as far as the Jailer felt, they were. The first attack looked more like a drunken man stumbling to recover from falling on his a**, meaning it was ridiculously easy for the gentleman to swat it aside with an easy swing of his cane and the sound of metal grating metal. The second attack was blocked entirely. The Jailer's cane coming up to stop the attack dead, allowing the A.I. to look into his opponent's eyes. "One more, and then it's just you and I at long last."
As he finished speaking, he pushed backwards. It wasn't an attack, just the finish of his block, meaning he doubted it would do anything truly damaging. It might send him to his a** at the worst, or stumbling slightly at the best. Either way, he whipped around and looked at the last child. He said nothing, his eyes locked onto the young man. There was no pity, no kindness, and no mercy. The child would die this time. Nothing would stop it from happening.
He lifted his cane and shot off, just as fast as the first time, darting in close to the young man without even a missed step. He made sure that there was no room for error this time, ensuring the stronger Baiter was out of the way before he aimed for his target. Once in range, he threw two attacks at the youngest Baiter's legs, his cane whipping around in front of him. He then threw one at the child's chest, before once more whipping around and aiming one at his back. Following it all up with a solid blow aimed for the back of the kid's skull.
He would teach the lesson. He would teach it well. When you enter the dog eat dog world that it was outside of those comfy little A.I. barricades, expect to get eaten.
Line Count: 3671
OOC:
Quote:
Jailer
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 200 Health: 430/805
Skill: 100 Strength: 150 Defense: 150
Tactical Advantage:Solomon's Chains: You have a heightened ability to control A.I. and to repel their attempts at controlling you. This enhanced durability of the body and mind allows you to control stronger A.I. Cores than those of the average Baiter of your same strength. You gain 10% additional Control Limit.
Tears streamed down Ilya’s face as he continued to fight his very best. It was hard, seeing his best friend die on his behalf. Especially when that was his original intent. Still, because he was now alive, he couldn’t let her death mean nothing. To him, his friends and his family were the most important things in the world. If they were not honored, or if they died because he couldn’t do anything, to him that was the worst thing imaginable. Thre, Alley, his mom… Those were the only people he knew really well. Those were his only friends and family. People at school bullied him because of his white hair, because he was a crybaby. Now, though? Now that he was a baiter? He had the strength to protect those like him. The ones that never got the love they deserved. And that was all that mattered to him. He didn’t care that if he misstepped that he was going to die. All he cared about, now, was the fact that his best friend died for his sake and he needed to make up for it.
So, with this in mine, he made his attack. And, to his surprise, actually managed to land a hit with his yoyo! Pride surged through his veins in that moment, a smile breaking through the tears. Wow! He actually did something! The metallic yoyo flung back into his hand with a snap as the boy watched what happened next.
Acel seemed to go crazy. He screamed about a baby and a demon. “Give her back...demon. GIVE. ME. BACK. MY. BABY!!!” Fear surged in the boy at the words and he took a step back, the swelling of pride completely gone from his heart. Heaps of various thoughts raced through his head. Baby? What did a baby have to do with this? Not only this, but the man’s body seemed to be disintegrating before his very eyes. It was all… So awful. Ilys was scared. The Jailer was bad enough, but now this person to? Sure, Acel had been nice, but looking at this Ilya could only second guess himself. He shuttered. So horrible…
The small boy watched as the person he used to so desperately want to make friends with be swatted away like a fly. This was reality. This was going to be his reality. The boy reeled, quaking in his boots and unable to make another move. All thoughts shut off when he noticed the Jailer now coming after him with no one to protect him. Gasping, the boy tried to leave, tried to scramble away as much as possible. But the first attacks came at the boy’s legs, successfully knocking him to the floor, breathless. Everything hurt, and he was fairly certain his legs were broken. More tears flowed down his face as he screamed out in pain and fear. The first attack didn’t kill him, but it very well should have. Both his legs were broken, and he could barely move, barely breath, he was in so much pain. The two swift attacks to his legs dealt a lot of damage, but what finally did him in was the blow to his chest.
Ilya couldn’t even scream. He had no air in his lungs to do so. Simply put, as he fell to the ground, feeling the cane knock everything out of him. Shortly after this, his body was taken away just as Thre’s was, leaving Acel alone to finish his battle.
Lines: 3731 OOC: He's dead, Jim.
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 43 Health: 620/620 Control Limit: 348
Skill: 38 [--] Strength: 38 [40] Defense: 35 [45]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Tank - Level 1 - Your A.I. Core has imbued you with an inhuman durability. You can shrug off heavier blows with ease that your comrades might not be able to. You gain 10 extra Defense. However, you also receive a -5% to your defensive chances.
Raven62
Shards of Myself
Ominous Noodles Crew
Dramatic Fatcat
Offline
BlankCaption Captain
Intellectual Smoker
Offline
Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2016 11:08 am
Turn 8
His heart ached as he watched the white-haired child cry as he fought. The tears streaming down his face--they showed everything unabashedly...unafraid of the consequence. He was such a genuine boy...such a good kid...they both were. Thre was a problem child, and she messed up the mission something fierce when she dove in...but the more and more he loathed that decision, the more and more it made sense to him. He thought of himself with Sarah and Akio and he remembered how he had allowed all of the enemies to strike him...to break him...just for the sake of their survival. It was the same thing here...but he was too stubborn...he couldn't think of them like that...they were kids...right? "Wrong, they are mor--.""Right. Just poor, little, dead children." The two voices spoke as one in his head and he snarled savagely as he stood there, though he didn't even know himself who he was trying to silence. He was cut short, however, by the sound of the Jailer making his taunt, and Acel's eyes narrowed, the immediate response being anger as he looked at his enemy. The man was speaking of how there was one more and then they would be truly alone at long last. A plea caught itself in his throat, and he felt himself fighting to scream, to yell at him to stop. To beg him to spare the child...he was so small...he was so innocent. "He's strong. He's alive.""He's a MAANNNNNN! You can't hold a man down, he's gotta stand up and walk on his own feet, die on his own feet, and face the madness of the new wooorrllllddd brother!""He died because of your incompetence like your daughter. He needed you. She needed you. Where were you?" The first impact took Ilya's legs from under him. The boy was launched up into the air and came back down like a rag doll, the successive blows took the boys life, mangling his body like Thre's, though he was soon gone as well. The moment the strikes began to fall upon Ilya's body Acel's mouth went dry and his heart frosted over. The tears that flowed from his eyes burned their way down his face, cutting swaths through his skin that repaired themselves in their wake. The way Ilya's skull had shattered...it was so much like her's.
A grin cut his features as he stood there lifeless and low laughter began to break from his body. "Kill me.""Happily, my good friend." Acel's body went limp like a puppet once more, but as he laughed the puppet moved, seeming to get accustomed to its own body as it looked dead across toward the Jailer. The grin was still plastered to its face as it looked at the Jailer. "You know, this disgusting human being having cultivated my being within him...has made me appallingly weak. There was a time, before, where I might have welcomed you, Jailer, to my ranks. Might have risen you to the next tier of existence, like the brothers who stand above you now. Though, a peon with no ability to even recognise the scent of their masters...what use do you truly have? Strong enough to break this man? Yes, I am quite sure. But believe me, when I have consumed his soul and gain a body once more, if you walk this Earth, I will find you. Only to restore my good name, for you have sullied it. You shall know despair." He stated, his voice reverberating off of the walls, and the Angel's code taking full effect over Acel's body. The skin flowed back into place and repaired itself, his eyes as well, regrowing with in his sockets. The black tendrils formed into permanent markings on the body--no longer wriggling about like snakes, and runic tattoos appeared over the surface of his torso and arms. "Let us finish this, brother." Acel did not hate this man...he admired the lower level core's determination and strength. He was once like that too...he was once a nobody in the world of invaders trying to grow stronger and work his way to the top. He was not born an Angel like some of his brothers--given their title and their strength. No. He earned it, like this fine gentleman was trying to do. Acel took a deep breath--the pain in his leg and chest was still grinding away at him, but he ground his teeth together and moved through it like he knew he had to. This was nothing--this was the pain of a human man...he did not know pain and suffering. The Angel was able to remove the damages that his own struggle for control had created--hell, most of it was only to hurt Acel--to make him chip apart and lose hope as his body burned away. He hadn't successfully forced the man out of his own mind so fully, though, in his whole life. Even when he had forced Acel out in the sewers, the man had not fully disappeared like this...the Angel felt for the first time like he had actually won against his jailer. Now...it was time to finish the other one.
He gripped to his blades like they were the last thing in this world that he had and he ran forward--the Jailer would have had plenty of time to prepare himself, now it was a true one against one duel, and Acel was okay with that. His body moved fluently, managing to keep weight off of the broken leg as he moved, and as he approached the Jailer, he did not try to make anything fancy. He merely attacked as he could, trying to target areas that would be more difficult for the Jailer to defend with his missing arm. The first slash came across in a vicious side swipe toward the damaged arm, though the blade was aiming to land a slash across and into the fragile looking rib-cage of the A.I.. The second attack he followed up with, he allowed the momentum of the first to halt before pulling the blade back, keeping his second sword decidedly defensive, and then suddenly striking out once more, bringing the blade this time down in a vertical strike toward the neck joint of the A.I., hoping to cut into the sensitive components of the enemy. This battle had already ended, now, the anger and hatred of battle was a distant memory, and within the Angel's mind, he was merely sparring with a strong ally. He cared not whether this body died, or whether it lived. He just wanted to fight against the enemy to see if he was strong enough to beat him...and if not, to strengthen his weakened form enough so that eventually...he could.
Line Count: 3853
OOC:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 175 Health: 185/1500 Control Limit: 1400
The Jailer stood over the spot the little lad had died. Though naught more than a peasant, he fought well for one so young, and deserved a moment of respect. After all, the little bugger had landed a fairly solid blow, though it had done next to no damage to the good sir's fine body. In fact, the Jailer took a moment to tip his rather large top hat to the kid, he deserved that as well for having not even made a peep while facing death, before settling it back on his head firmly. It hadn't moved yet after all, such a feat only capable of being performed by such a perfect gentleman.
He turned his attention to the only remaining opponent, his initial target, but soon to be his third kill. He was laughing, but there was no humor there. Well, no light humor there. It was a dark sound, born from a cruel mind. The shift in personality was very apparent to the Jailer now, and its eyes narrowed. The rube before him seemed to be trying really hard to fit into the 'scary' category.
Perhaps if he was stronger, it might have been an effective shift, but as far as the Jailer was concerned, this guy was a failure. Failures can't be scary.
As the man spoke, the Jailer became convinced he was insane. Spewing nonsense about raising him in the ranks like he had some say in them. The imbecile had no idea what he was talking about. Had no idea what it was like for a core, how dare he stand before the high society A.I. and talk such nonsense?! His eyes lit up with fury at the very idea of it!
Suddenly the Jailer's eyes widened, and his stance became rigid.
"You shall know despair."
These words finally reminded the Jailer of where he had recognized what he had recognized from this man! It was the Angel of Despair! This despicable, detestable man dared to imitate such a being of high power?! What gave him the right?! Who did he think he was?! Anger coursed through the body of the Jailer, who's eyes took on a notably darker light as he stared down the Baiter before him, his weapon coming up and at the ready as his opponent called them to battle.
Somehow the man before him was able to move as though unhindered, despite the clearly still broken leg, and the pain his chest much be causing him. More than that, he was able to move well. However, right now the Jailer was fuel by anger and a righteous anger. This lowly human being assumed himself strong enough to pretend to be the very Angel of Despair. Such a thing was unforgivable as far as the core was concerned. The Angels were the second highest on the chain, topped only by the Gods themselves! To think one of these disgusting mud monkeys had the audacity to act like one of the high beings really got under the Jailer's skin.
The first attack came in the form of a sideways slash towards his abdomen area, however before it was even in the danger zone of landing, the Jailer stepped backwards out of the way, his body moving not unlike a snake as he slipped into his own persona stance, designed for moments like these when he was completely serious. The attack moved harmlessly in front of him, not even close enough to appear dangerous. The second attack was a downward stroke, aiming for a very simple attack towards the Jailer's neck, which was easily bat aside, as though it were moving in slow motion, while the Jailer's hand came up and grabbed the front of the Baiter's shirt to pull him forward into a stumble, and hopefully fall.
He turned his dark gaze on the impostor, drawing his weapon up into a ready position, his stance unlike the other two he had used thus far. "I don't know who you think you are, but I do know this. You are nothing. You may think you have the power of the Angel, but you are nothing but a shadow. A husk. You are, under the best of circumstances, a failed experiment gone right." He made sure to pour his hate into the glare, though, like was common, not even a bit of it showed on his face, just in his eyes.
"Stop pretending to be something you're not!" The Jailer yelled, before dashing forward. However, instead of going for a head on collision, he kicked off some rubble, sending him flying to the side of his opponent, before swinging his weapon backwards in an attempt to hit the Baiter in the spine, before spinning around and slipping right back into a ready stance, dust flying away in the wind after having been kicked up by his speedy movements.
Line Count: 3947
OOC:
Quote:
Jailer
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 200 Health: 430/805
Skill: 100 Strength: 150 Defense: 150
Tactical Advantage:Solomon's Chains: You have a heightened ability to control A.I. and to repel their attempts at controlling you. This enhanced durability of the body and mind allows you to control stronger A.I. Cores than those of the average Baiter of your same strength. You gain 10% additional Control Limit.
Acel watched as the Jailer went about his little act of showmanship--honouring the dead boy for his efforts. A worthy opponent was not an easy thing to find, and though Ilya had been nowhere near worthy, he had been brave at the very least. Much less so than the man that he was forced to dwell within. This...Acel...was a scared little s**t. A man who was too scared to lose what he had already lost...to damaged...to stupid. Though this fight would have jarred him in ways that the Angel would not understand. As Acel spoke to the man, he could see the confusion rising within the core's code. He could see the coded reaction of fury, and then the Jailer's body stopped. It all went still, it all locked onto the last words that he spoke as his voice reverberated from the walls, and the Angel grinned as he looked at the Jailer. Even though, for a single moment, he had caused the Jailer to ponder the possibility, it passed and returned into the same disbelief. The A.I. was incapable of seeing the truth--incapable of truly understanding the position that the Angel was in. And here he was, stating how he would have loved to raise this being on high. Well...perhaps by the end of this battle, he would understand. Perhaps he would open his closed mind to the possibility. It all depended, however...it all depended on the course of the battle. Honestly, the Angel could not blame the Jailer for his doubt--if he had seen himself in the state that he had been in, he would have thought the same things--he would have thought that it was a disgusting human mocking their culture. This was definitely true. However, as much doubt as the Jailer might have--the A.I. did something that Acel did not think would happen--he suddenly took on a more serious posture and when he moved away from the first strike that Acel had attempted upon him, he did so with a swift, serpentine fashion. The movement was much more in depth--something you would not need to show or utilise against a lesser foe...perhaps the Jailer believed more than the Angel thought he did.
As the second attack came striking down toward the Jailer's neck, the Angel was hoping that it could land another blow like the one that had severed the b*****d's arm, but he had not managed to do anything along those lines. The A.I. was merely too good...he was due for a promotion, and that was no lie. He needed to be raised up to the state of a Kilo. Given more power--given a stronger body to work with...this man could be unstoppable. How the Angel wished that he could do such a thing in his current state. Even during their fight together, he would grant this A.I. his promotion happily. But he could not. Not without his full body--not without escaping this daft human. At that point, the Jailer's arm lashed out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him forward and causing him to stumble. He lost his footing from the sudden jerking motion, being unable to reestablish his footing with his broken leg. He fell forward, though he rolled with it and came to an awkward stop on his rump, dusting off his shoulders in the middle of the fight before he stood up from the ground and turned to view the Jailer, who at this time was taking some time out to speak to him...another difference. Did he now suddenly feel that Acel was worth talking to...was he entering a state of worry...perhaps the Angel of Despair was putting its good name to even better use. The Jailer began to spout off some crap about not knowing who Acel thought that he was...that he was some sort of failed experiment and nothing more...a shadow--or a husk. He grinned. As the Jailer charged in, he bellowed out to not act as though he were something that he was not. Ahh...he had indeed managed to get under the Jailer's skin. If it was about humanity or human emotions, or insults, or anything, it was a lot harder--as the Jailer cared not for people or their ways. However...this gentleman clearly cared for his own race and their honour and their classes. Hearing a human man say that he was one of the most powerful beings in their race obviously aggravated him quite thoroughly.
As the Jailer dashed forward for his attack, he suddenly misdirected himself to the side, shooting around Acel with ease, and then throwing a vicious attack toward Acel's spine. This however, was easily tracked--step by step--by Midas, and even though the A.I. refused to speak, the Angel knew he was there. He knew that though he would not offer his friendship to the Angel--Midas still knew it was Acel's body, and was fighting to save his life. The dog's pleas echoed within the Angel's mind, begging Acel to come back--to pull himself together. The Angel merely offered laughter--echoing within his own mind, mocking Midas and his efforts. "He's dead, little doggy. His mind has been broken, and he will not be coming back...not as long as I still draw breath. Or I would have let him die long before now...this is my chance.""Stuff it, doom and gloom. You're no better than me in here, got it! And Acel is a strong kid. He's coming back, and he's going to lock your a** up for good." Midas snapped. It was at this point that the Angel made a quick movement, swinging his sword upward behind his back, and bracing the second sword behind it so that as the cane came crashing in, without even looking at the Jailer's attack, the Angel stopped it dead with the crossed blades, and then using only his good leg, and spinning on it, holding the broken one up off the ground just slightly, he turned to face the Jailer, while simultaneously directing the pressure from the cane to the side with the spin so the Jailer couldn't keep pushing the attack forward and hit him while he was turning to face his enemy. "Something I am not?" Laughter rang out in the strangely well kept city. Sure the corpses were a little dingy, but it could look good with some upkeep. "You've yet to realise the err of your ways, Jailer. The magnitude of your insults and your mistakes. A husk...a shadow...this I have already admitted to you. I am indeed a mere smudge of the being I ought to be...because of these filthy animals. These disgusting...heinous humans." He growled as he looked at the Jailer. He hoped that having used Midas' ability to see all around him, blocking the Jailer's strike without looking might have shaken the gentleman just a bit. Then, with a snap, Acel's body lurched forward towards the Jailer. "You will answer to me, Jailer. For every word, for every doubt, for every strike against me. Pesagniyah...does not forgive." His eyes mirrored the Jailer's hate and anger.
This peon dared to speak to him like he was a nothing...dared to look down on him...it was almost as disgusting as the fact that he knew there was a reason for ******** this guy. ******** this Acel...this human for limiting him. As he drew closer, he hoped only that the sound of his name would have truly driven the point home...shaken this enemy enough to make him fall into the despair that he was trying to bring. He was putting only the smallest pressure on the broken leg when he ran, barely even touching the ground with it when he moved, like a phantom. His sword flashed, the first strike aiming to carry forward with his momentum and slashing up and across, diagonally toward the Jailer's face, hoping to slide across it and leave a vicious mark across his visage. Something, if the Jailer survived, that would allow Pesagniyah to find him again. Then, Pesagniyah immediately pivoted on the good leg and spun himself, bringing the second sword across horizontally toward the shoulder of the only in-tact arm left, hoping to cleave the arm free as well. And, if he managed to leave him completely lame, he would end him here and now...if he could. Damnit...he would. He had to. He was going to win this...and he was going to damn well steal Acel's being in all of its entirety.
Line Count: 4103
OOC:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 175 Health: 185/1500 Control Limit: 1400
As his body whipped around the practically stationary Baiter, to attempt to attack him from his blindside, he was reminded that the man had one of those thrice damned Obelions. As such, it wasn't really that big of a surprise when the man before him was able to block his attack without so much as a backward glance. He wondered for a short moment if the wretch thought he was being cool or unnerving. Judging by the way he held himself, he imaged that he did, in fact, believe he was being intimidating with this block.
However, all this really did was cement the fact in his mind this man was nothing more than a poor imitation.
A cheap knock off of the real deal.
The true Angel of Despair would know that he had the ability to see in nearly every direction around him. He would know that the Jailer would know this, given that all cores were aware of all other basic core abilities. Thus, this piss poor attempt at getting under the gentleman's skin got him precisely what it was worth, nothing.
As the ridiculous attempt at true, holy power began speaking, the Jailer couldn't seem to help the irrational anger spreading through his mind. He was a gentleman! A fine sir by any standards! Position meant everything to him, and as such pretending to have a position that was not yours was easily one of the greatest insults, as well as crimes. The filthy, uncultured, disgusting little insect of an existence began spewing nonsense, as though he were in fact on a higher standing than he was. Better than the humans he spoke so ill of.
The very idea of it made the Jailer furious.
Not only did this ingrate believe himself to be a being from on high, he forsook all others of his own kind! He truly had been led to believe he was something of some kind of importance! This thing! Which had but moments ago been losing his mind! Had been fighting tooth and nail to protect the very things he was now calling heinous! He was so two faced it made the Jailer disgusted to even look at him. In fact, the only reason he continued to do so, was because of the farce of a battle they were having right now.
It was clear as day the Jailer had this fight in the bag. Anyone could see it. Sure it was missing an arm, but when you look at the grand scheme of things, he was still more than ready to go, where his opponent was on his last leg. Literally.
With a sudden launch, the man pushed himself at the core, once more spewing nonsense. Threats he could never carry out. All while his eyes met and matched his very own. Every word out of the man's mouth fueled the rage burning a hole in the pit of the Jailer's stomach. Every drop of rage inside the other man's eyes fed his own fury. He was more than prepared. Anger was slowing his perception of time, everything seemed to be going in his favor, he entire response more than mapped out in his head.
That is, until that name was called out from the other's mouth.
Time seemed to suddenly freeze, and simultaneously speed up. This single instant of surprise was enough for the man to get in another blow, his blade slicing a clean diagonal line through the Jailer's face, end to end, right between his eyes. The surprise of having allowed a blow get through because this human had knowledge he shouldn't well overrode the pain in his face, but it did nothing to quench the depths of pure fury, which was perhaps the only thing that allowed him to respond in time.
As the second attack came flying at him, the Jailer's only remaining fist quickly came forth and smacked the man right in the hand holding the blade, stopping the attack well before it could even gain enough momentum to be called such, before lifting up his leg and kicking this worm away from him. "You speak of things you know nothing of. You will never know another day of peace because of it."
That was it. Those words were the only thing that the Jailer said. They were said with such a deadly calm tone one could easily imagine themselves standing in the middle of a storm, this single place calm while all around them things were a disaster. The look in the Jailer's eyes could freeze a weaker man in his place, perhaps even cause his heart to stop. The man had used the name of one so holy, claiming the name as his own. Something the Jailer couldn't allow to go unpunished.
He lifted his cane up, ready to go and simply knock the man's head off, but paused. That wouldn't do enough. That wouldn't get his message across. The man would take the blow, but continue to go on talking like he was something much bigger than he was. Oh no, the Jailer had to ensure that never occurred again. Had to make sure this death was memorable. Had to make sure this day was a dark mark on the man’s memory for the rest of his life.
With this thought in mind the Jailer took a quick stock of the area around them, before taking off. His body moved with such fluidity it almost seemed like he had done this before numerous times. Defying gravity, the man ascended the nearest building, hopping from one ledge to the next like he wasn't doing something that should technically be impossible for a one armed being.
Once at the top, he leaped off with as much force as he possibly could, his body turning to where his opponent was, flying towards him at a rather crazy speed. With a forceful motion his cane was thrown right towards the center of his chest once more, however that was not the end of the attack. If the attack landed on the wannabe, or on the ground, the effect would be the same. The cane would hit, and but a mere second later, it would be landed on by the Jailer, his feet forcing the weapon to either pierce the body of his opponent, or bury itself deep in the ground. Regardless, it would be an impressive display.
Line Count: 4227
OOC:
Quote:
Jailer
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 200 Health: 95/805
Skill: 100 Strength: 150 Defense: 150
Tactical Advantage:Solomon's Chains: You have a heightened ability to control A.I. and to repel their attempts at controlling you. This enhanced durability of the body and mind allows you to control stronger A.I. Cores than those of the average Baiter of your same strength. You gain 10% additional Control Limit.
A grin ripped across his features as he pulled the blade upwards and was rewarded with that instant of 'deer in headlights' bliss from the Jailer. It had been surprised. It had been truly taken aback by the name...but still, even in this moment of satisfaction--even as the blade cut its way through the face of the enemy--Pesagniyah could see the disbelief still within his enemy.
How? How could he doubt it at this point?
Did he think that the stupid man had somehow stumbled over the angel's name in a dusty old book, and managed to dub himself by it? The idiocy of his own kind was beginning to piss him off something fierce.
As the blade exited the other side of the Jailer's face, it left a gash fully across the visage of his opponent, jaw to forehead, perfectly between the eyes. To be honest...it kind of made the Jailer look like a badass...but the angel wasn't going to say anything. However, as Pesagniyah went for the second strike, it was slapped down by the enemy with ease. Its metallic hand crashed down against Acel's with such force that the fingers instantly broke and the sword clattered to the floor. Then the foot came, crushing forward and smashing into Acel's body with enough force to send the man sprawling backward. Again, the A.I. stated that Acel was speaking of things he knew nothing about.
The angel knew defeat--he was not some fool who could not accept when he had lost. He was, however, a being who would fight tooth and nail until his defeat had been certain. His leg broken, his fingers shattered, his sternum ready to fall to pieces at a moment's notice. He was, at the end of the day, pushing this frail human well beyond its limits. Even now, he could only raise himself to one knee to face his enemy.
He breathed out, letting the air leave his body, and he closed his eyes for a moment as the Jailer hopped backwards away from him. When his eyes opened, the A.I. was already airborne, flying down toward him suddenly. Pesagniyah brought the remaining sword he held across in an attempt to bat the cane away as it was rocketed toward him, but even as he swung the blade, the cane was moving so fast that the angel's blurred, human, vision was enough to screw up the data being input by Midas' observational skills.
The sword clashed through nothing but air, and then there was a sudden, incredible surge of pressure through Acel's chest. There was the feint squealing of metal on metal as it passed too close to the contraption on Acel's left peck, and Acel ground his teeth together as the pressure passed and the wave of inexorable anguish flooded his body.
Screams would not come from his open mouth. But as Pesagniyah stood there--pinned to the ground, and the A.I. landed atop the cane, standing almost directly on Acel's chest, the man stared up with incredulity at his own death. "Have I ever known peace?" The angel asked, staring up at his enemy. Laughter split the air around them as Pesagniyah grinned, his body around the chest wound began to glow brightly.
Suddenly the code began to flow outward from the body, creating a mass that swirled violently around the man atop his cane. Then, just as suddenly as it had began the mass of code fell in toward the Jailer, smashing against him momentarily. With this contact, a surge of memory would wash over the Jailer. A surge of the Angel's true form. A surge of his battle with Acel's father. A surge of the Angel's last moments...and an old, brittle man before him with eyes of ice.
In this moment, the Jailer would know that he was going to be hunted. The Angel had already promised him that the gash across his face would lead him back to the A.I. eventually. And he would know without a doubt...that the angel of despair. The angel who vanished from on high...was back.
It was then that the bright light exploded high in the sky and the code that had created Acel's body moved toward it, drawn to it like a moth to the flame. And Acel's mission had come to a close.
Line Count: 4307 - 300 for death = 4007
OOC:
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 175 Health: 0/1500 Control Limit: 1400
