Xenotime's demand that Ashanite present her with starseeds was a task the Captain had taken to with what might be considered a surprising amount of dedication, for a man who acted he Negaverse's unwilling hostage. His preference was still to talk, always to talk - but this time, when the Senshi had made it entirely clear there would be no talking, Ashanite had wasted no time even on summoning his weapon. A hand in the chest and a yank, and the Senshi was on the ground and his starseed was in Ashanite's fist.
It had gotten easier to kill, after the first time - and especially easier when he was pulling a starseed, not driving a blade into a throat and ending up covered in arterial spurt.
Unfortunately, paying attention to the Senshi in front of him meant that he had neglected to watch or feel for auras around him. A nearby Eternal - too close for comfort - had the Captain tensing, and swearing softly under his breath. Stupid, to lose track of his environment like that.
Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2015 12:01 am
The feel of a senshi and a Captain's aura were plain and sickening. It was a dour thing, familiar to his own days long ago in joining fights he'd had no business in with no hope of rescue except dumb luck or ingenuity. Thraen made for it as soon as he discerned them, far at the edges of his mind where they might not be able to feel him just yet. If he could make it in time-
No. It happened. The feel of the senshi was fading out rapidly like a sputtering candle.
Thraen sprinted, leapt, looked as windows reflected streetlights and flashed by with gravity. A uniformed officer stood with hand out, clutched a star, and looked around themselves. Felt him out finally with their focus no longer on the fallen body in a flickering uniform. Like Wolframite, so long ago. Like that boy I carried to a street lamp, bled out and too late for help.
"So you set beneath the lofty monuments of civilized society, or your great thief Metallia, a monument of dust and stars until she swallows all the world the same and what does it buy for you at such a price? " Boots hit hard on the ground and Thraen growled, "Set it back in it's rightful place, in their chest, and rebuke the power you wield." Fire with fire, an eye for an eye, a life for a life. It's all that prevents any of you from killing killing this and every world for petty profit-
" Choose. Do right, or we will have wrong to be paid between us."
There were people on whom it was, generally, worth it for Ashanite to at least make a play at his ruse - to see how far introducing himself as "Ploutonion," an officer with what was obviously a Knight's name, got him. This was, he assessed, as he took in the Senshi bedecked in vines and flowers, probably not one of those people. The uniform sparked a memory - not visual, but this was exactly who Porsha had described as the Senshi who had beaten her.
If he could take on Xenotime, Ashanite knew he probably stood very little chance of making it out alive.
"I'd like to be able to return it," he said, "I really would." Not particularly. He had little affection or patience for short-tempered idiots who leapt straight to violence, and that was exactly what the Senshi whose starseed he held had done. "Unfortunately, I've already dug myself a nice grave with a General and would prefer not to make it any deeper."
He doubted his defense was going to move this man, and so as swiftly as he could, he tucked the starseed away and called his daggers to his hands.
"If that means I have to fight you, so be it."
Ivynian
Posted: Tue Nov 17, 2015 7:46 pm
Growing up, Thraen had had enough mass media consumption for a working knowlege of superhero villains— Any time someone qualified something they "wanted" to do to an enemy with "really" in the exact way this one has done, it meant the exact opposite. Blowing smoke up my a**? Why, even? "Cowardice pays for his neck on the lives of others. "
The starseed was stowed and weapons drawn. What ever were they? Batarangs? Small blades were ill news, fast in close range, double edged and well enough for piercing or cutting. It felt like there was a phantom pain of complaint in his right arm, though likely just a protest from the reason seat of his mind about the proximity to having the cast removed. Another agent already? At least a captain. He'll be slower and weaker than I am. He can still teleport. He'll be slower with an offhand. Which is that? They've protrusions on both ends as well, dangerous to the wielder.
"So it shall be done to him, death for murder." Quenton walked forward, swift but sure, to close what distance remained between them both. Hands lifting to the ready, He's not ...exactly wearing much. Is he really a captain? In the Negaverse?
"True," Ashanite acknowledged. He would not disagree - he was, on the whole, a coward, a liar - more concerned with his own survival than anyone else. "I've traded his life for mine. I make no claims at nobility or courage." He had shifted, naturally and easily, into a stance that would allow him to attack or defend with ease. Months of preparation and sparring against Xenotime and against civilians in his martial arts class meant that Captain Ashanite was far more prepared for combat than Ploutonion of Saturn had ever been.
An Eternal's strength and speed weren't to be discounted - and he remembered what Xenotime had said about this man's magic, capable of rendering him unconscious and helpless. He would have to avoid that.
The smartest thing to do would be to run. Teleport out, flee with his life. The idea rankled, because he would never be able to face himself - never mind Umber or Xenotime - if he took such a foolish, cowardly way out. Death, a necessary end, will come when it comes.
"Please, Hammurabi, enforce your Code," he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice, and he was already moving, not backing away, but preparing to flank, because his best bet would be to swing around behind or to the side rather than frontal combat.
Ivynian
Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2015 12:12 pm
Disgusting wretch, but at least truthful. As with Buddingtonite- nothing of value to be lost in removing the possibility of his healing or repenting. He won’t. And if he did, small good for that either. But at least you have enough a brain to recognize some small part of law as Hammurabi. Ignorance of the law is not used as excuse, at least. He is just foul. “*Extremis malis extrema remedia. Cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare. ”
The man was trained and smart enough to try to strike from the side. Sizing him up, they might be near of a height if it weren’t for his own platform heels. Near of a height had the possibility of near of reach as well, if pugilism spoke anything to how centimeters could sway in the ring. But this wasn't boxing.
At least it wasn’t impossible to keep up with the captain's sidling.
But is there merit in acting? Allow him a flank, try to turn with the hit to soak damage and trap his extended arm? One arm is not two weapons. When did they start bearing two? About the same time they got bows and arrows, most like. Our chances at this dim by the month. Getting him in close to cast, risks both blades but those are long and meant for mid-range combat instead of grappling. Grappling will force the issue of how ambidextrous he is. My back, sides, and arms will all bleed for this. If he knows my magic, the wise teleport. If he knows, word has spread since her. And likely from her. Certainly not from Alois.
Thraen started with a step in and jab, gauging their respective reach, speed, and agility.
*Extreme remedies for extreme ills. Any man can make a mistake; only a fool keeps making the same one.*
Latin was not part of Ashanite's general expertise, but he knew enough to know that what this Senshi was saying was not exactly kind. "And what gives you the right to be judge, jury, and executioner, any more than I?" He asked, idly, and then he was on the attack, sliding away from the jab and responding with a stab directed at the lower half of the punching arm. Take those out, and he would remove some of the ability to fight - and possibly hurt the ability to call magic.
His second dagger was brought towards the Senshi's hip in a slash, meant to lay on further hurt. Ashanite was at a physical disadvantage, being shorter, and he knew he had other liabilities - the utter lack of protection provided by his uniform, and the combat-foolish mess that was his hair. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible, before his disadvantages could be leveraged against him.
He wasn't entirely sure what he intended to do - corrupt, kill? Probably corrupt, given the opportunity; a dead Eternal was a waste, but a corrupted Eternal could be repurposed. And also, he was pretty sure that it would be impressive. Impressing the people around him seemed a very useful idea.
Ivynian
for reference~ Contact with Ashanite's daggers produces mild effects of aconite poisoning for ten seconds - this can include numbness and tingling in the affected area, sweating, difficulty breathing, headaches, and confusion. However, these effects are only applied the first time an individual is struck in a single battle.
Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2015 3:38 pm
"He speaks of rights, in indignation, who trods on life, safety, security and succor of others? So would you be curious, with no interest save your own benefit in the accountability of others but not yourself. Legally, by the common laws extant either in the United States or in the United Kingdom regarding citizen's arrest for felony, 'breach of peace' and 'public offense.' " The blade near his arm was avoided with a correction of angles and by factor of speed. Heat opened along the ridge of his hip, though, as the eternal favored keeping their distance close. Heat and a deadening of the nerves around it, which served just fine for making it less of a problem to focus away from it. But points to a coating on the blades, possibly. I wonder if I''ll drop dead in a few minutes. Wouldn't that be a simple end.
"You just murdered, in my presence. You can object on the basis of non-deadly force if you like." A creaping throb at the base of his skull. "Thraen Annual Planting"
How it Works - Thraen folds his hands together like prayer, the opens hands and they are full of seeds. He blows over them, dispersing the seeds. Hundreds of flowers spring up, growing and blooming magically. Their scent causes those who stand near them to fall asleep.
Range - The patch of flowers that grows is a 10 ft. radius around Thraen Duration - The flowers bloom in the post he casts them. If those in the flower bed or near it do not get at least 10 ft. away from the flowers, they fall asleep like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz. The sleep lasts for 15 seconds. The flowers last for 20 seconds.
Damage Summary - This is not a damage magic. No damage occurs from the spell itself, nor is any intended. If the writer of someone being affected wants their character to fall to their knees and then flop over and take no harm at all, that is up to them. If the writer of someone being affected by this wants their character to fall over mid-run and skid to a stop with a broken nose, that is up to them. But there is no damage effect in the spell itself.
Weaknesses - If someone doesn't stay near them long enough, they don't fall asleep. If people hold their breath, wear a breathing mask, or cover their mouth and nose with wet cloth can avoid the scent as well. Once a person has fallen asleep in one flower bed, they cannot be affected by that bed again. Only a separate bed would affect them. This is an AoE (Area of Effect) spell that effects allies as well as enemies. Frequency of Usage - Twice a battle
"I wouldn't quite class that as indignation," Ashanite said - and really, nothing in the way he spoke indicated he was taking this seriously at all. He was, of course, deadly serious - he still remembered Porsha laid up in bed for weeks, and he did not want that to be him. But it was easier to let it roll off as if he didn't care, because maybe it would keep the enemy off balance. Maybe he'd get so frustrated with Ashanite's apparent casual attitude that he would make mistakes.
And there it was - his magic. Porsha had warned of it, and Ashanite was not eager to take a nap in front of someone who had proven all too desirous of ending his life. So he held his breath, and teleported - beyond the range of the growing blooms. That was tiring in and of itself, and took him out of direct combat range, but at least it wouldn't leave him defenseless.
"Come on, now, let's not resort to cheap tricks." He spun a dagger lightly between his fingers, considering carefully. He hadn't had much luck using them as projectile weapons - and he wasn't inclined to try again here, when it was distinctly life or death and he was not, by any means, desperate. Yet. "I killed in self-defense, though I doubt that makes much of a difference to you, and really, in perhaps one of the gentlest ways there is to die." There was the faintest hint of a smile - though not a particularly pleasant one - on his face. "I had my starseed extracted, when I first became a Knight. There are much worse ways to go."
Ivynian
Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2015 8:51 pm
"Self defense is no excuse for murder from one who can teleport out of a situation." Boring, dull, wasting time. These aren't real arguments. Paper tigers. Every bit as much as he teleported now.
Already as the blade was spinning, Thraen was pivoted. The numbness and fire throbs wanting to be a full headache were fading away with the ticked seconds of words. "No noise but silence would suit thee better, healing all ears their ennui."
No pain. Focus. Every living breath count. Thraen sprinted across the distance again, feinting with a jab again but more seriously aiming a knee for what could be more precious to the peacock.
That was true, he could have teleported away. "So determined to judge," he said, but as soon as the Senshi started coming for him, the twirling stopped and blades were brought back up in defensive positions. At least he could feel mildly favored in close combat - deadly weapons, he hoped, would trump sheer physicality, even if he had been as weak and noodly as Ploutonion.
Combat was a guessing game, and he had to guess what would mean more injury - in this particular situation, Ashanite was far more concerned with dodging the knee, and so he was paying attention to that long enough for the fist to connect. "********," he gasped, mostly under his breath, and aimed a dagger at the leg that had come far too close for comfort to a very, very painful injury. No clever repartee this time - obviously no one here was fighting with anything approaching traditional honor, and the quips did eventually have to stop.
Ivynian
Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2016 4:46 am
A stab. Fractions of seconds in the differential between their speeds, but Thraen's mind made up not to alter, or to try to do so, to avoid the heel-palm extension of blade. The sharp bit deep, missed the problems of the saphenous and femoral but not by far. He grabbed the wrist in the slowing, pushing and pulling of blade though muscle. He caught the other arm by the wrist as well, holding it back and at bay so it couldn't interrupt.
Drew it back and out in smooth, controlled, contesting of strength against the captain's so that it couldn't be twisted and torn back out through anything important. Thraen's flame almond eyes stared hard into the round, violet ones though every half-moment. He didn't hesitate or telecast his intention, and even as his freed, bleeding leg was shifting back down to stand on, the eternal pushed the thumb end extension of the long bat-shaped blade into the stomach of it's wielder.
"You will die here." Just the burn and numb of your poison, Captain. A gut wound could kill, given time. But there's never enough time with how you lot heal yourselves on the souls of others. It has to be more. "There is no pain, is there. "
Ashanite very rarely felt anything like actual panic, but he came very, very close when he felt Thraen's hand close around his wrist. He struggled, and shoved down the panic, and held his eyes on the Senshi's. He was considering possibilities - and wrestling for control of his weapons was definitely one, because they were his one advantage and the Senshi could compensate easily if he stole them. He should have planned faster, should have struggled harder - that was what he told himself in the instant he had between when the back end of his dagger pressed against his gut and when it sank in.
There was an instant of white-hot pain, and then numbness settled in. Ashanite had purposely drawn his own blade across his palm, once, when he was first learning the ins and outs of being a Captain instead of a Squire, because it felt important to know what it did. He had Googled the symptoms he experienced, once he'd bandaged his hand, and found aconite, and been amused.
He was not amused now, with a headache settling in and his thoughts rapidly becoming scattered and confused.
He snarled, like a cornered animal, at the threat. "Not today," and he brought his own leg up for a strike on the same area the Senshi had aimed for, as the easiest way to get them broken apart. His daggers flickered out of his hands, dismissed so they couldn't be turned against him again - or against anyone else, because he also called his communicator crystal to his hand. He considered, briefly, the most expedient route of shattering it and setting off the inbuilt beacon, but that would mean facing Laurelite and accounting for the spectacularly stupid decision to square off against an Eternal alone when he had to get a new one.
Better choice - an all-call for anyone nearby. Same effect, less looking Laurelite in the face and accounting for his moronic bravado. Hopefully.
"This is Captain Ashanite, requesting assistance against an Eternal," he was having trouble focusing around the headache and the general rattling of his thoughts to remember his location, damn his weakness for letting his own blade be turned on him, "near 12th and East Lombard."
Ivynian
Strickenized
general pls come collect ur idiot?
Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 10:34 am
Umber's night progressed in perfectly proportionate anticlimax to Ashanite's.
Umber's patrols lessened in frequency with the demand of additional research taken on. The few times he did so were less for the specific reason of fulfilling the quota, and most often for exercising his skillset or seeking out additional resources to corrupt, but this particular night found a need to finish the remainder of his energy quota. His reserves slackened since his few available hours were pulled to see to Xenotime; it grew imperative that he reclaim his losses in short order if he wanted to continue with his tasks.
The general started on a target briskly from his vantage point on the bank's balustrade. The man below was solitary, evidently quite tall, and of good health - all easily ascertained in studying his body language. Umber's gait shifted in urgency as he angled to catch up with the man from his high vantage point, and planned to drop down directly behind him to start the draining process. However, as he aligned himself for his descent, the communicator holstered on his belt wheezed to life in its static cacophony. Immediately he recognized the low register as Ashanite's, and that he sounded as though he endured the effects of magic. Regardless, he did not sound like himself, and the message bode ill for the power difference between a captain and an eternal alone. Umber wasted little time in taking the call. "Will meet you at your position in five," he responded through the violet crystal.
Reaching the location demanded he teleport, and mentally Umber completed the wager against a large loss of energy and additional time spent in reaching Ashanite's location. The risk was found unacceptable; in a blink, the general vanished from the rooftop entirely.
Reaching 12th and East Lombard entailed a block of free running after hemorrhaging energy, and Umber grew minimally winded by its halfway point. As he rounded the cusp of a recently foreclosed strip club, he caught sight of the familiar deep violets that composed his roommate's uniform. Not long after emerging from the alley segment, he recognized the eternal senshi for the description Xenotime had cited some time ago. Platinum hair, a surfeit of flower decorum, blue and green. Thraen Perennial Planting came to mind. Even now, he wondered what it did.
Umber started toward the pair in a purposeful gait. He spared no energy in summoning his weapon. "Go," he issued toward the blonde in laced authority. Outnumbered and damaged as he was, Umber did not expect for him to stay. His direction shifted toward the wounded Ashanite, who looked ill at best.
He did not want for this senshi to stay, for he proved too useful a soldier to avoid indoctrination into the Negaverse.
Noir Songbird
Ivynian
Strickenized
Garbage Cat
Offline
Ivynian
Cat
Offline
Posted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 3:35 pm
Dodging the countering knee most instinctively involved turning hips, and the blow landed into the already bloodied hip. And where the hip could feel again, released from the effects of poison, the whole of the same thigh above and including some of that knee were lose in prickling, burning numb and gave out as the captain disengaged and moved. Created a small window of space between them.
And the seconds ticked, where he didn't teleport, and didn't attack, but talked into his crystal. The crystals are the communicators, like our phones. He calls for help. I need my knee to function, so I can walk. Crouching here at a ready is fine for defense and dodging, but not for finishing it. Breaking his neck. Count the seconds. He does not teleport. There's still a chance to reach him.
Three in the call for help. Two hands worth more and another aura drew close. A general, of all the poor luck. Closing distance at a brisk pace and speaking a succinct word. The same man from September that came to the aid of the General. He'd been a captain then. Less a hand of months on and he was a General himself. 'Umber! I nee-' 'I'll kill you!'
General 'Umber'. But the numbing flame was subsiding. He could stand, safe from threats of his leg giving out from lack of nerve control.
"A coward has few uses. Even Metallia must find benefit to some other inheriting his title for her to reclaim. Why interfere. The Negaverse loses no more than a pair of hands with this one." Thraen rose, on alert if the General showed weapon or vanished. The idea of a living person and value only judged by 'use' was vile, but provided enough of a hopeful talking point. There was curiosity in there, reduced in over-simplification, seemingly being an officer whose whole job seemed to be pulling other officers every few months out of his grasp. "You can take his body home after."
Who are you, among all these villains, so ready to help them. What are you about.
He'll remember my arm, and it is not many months of healing, even if it looks hale. I still have magic. 'Captain Ashanite' still serviceable in a pinch. Damn.
Reply
