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 Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 8:16 pm
 The Handgelenk-Blatt receded from where it came. The woman sighed. "You can call me Temp," the woman replied, "And no, I haven't seen the guy you're after." Actually, it was more on the lines of "I only pay attention to people who disturb me when sleeping." None the less, Temp was telling the truth. He was close enough to see that she had blue eyes with red marking under it.
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 8:24 pm
"Hm. well then" he said as he eased his stance and he bowed respectfully,"It was a pleasure, I apologize I am pressed for time, and I must make haste to the hotel, please forgive me for my rudeness"
He raised up as he turned to walk towards the hotel turned to her " I say, If I may ask, what is that construct of an arm? How did you come by such a device?" he asked politely
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 8:44 pm
 To Temp, it was an odd question. The arms themselves were unique for one reason only: They contained nanites. "They were given to me," Temp replied, "To a guy who found me limbless and outcold in Wasteland City. I don't expect Ossou to have a spare pair laying about." She remembered a conversation that happened around five years ago. Anything past waking up in Ossou's shop is non-exsistant. Quote: "That ******** hurt!"
"Whimp."
"I bet you were crying like a baby when you got yours... Oh wait, YOU PROBABLY WERE WHEN YOU GOT YOURS!"
"Enough with the complaining," he said, "You're an official citizen of Wasteland City."
"That's an odd name for a city."
"It fits the letter to the T," he replied, "It is an actual city in a scrapyard. Metal, mind you; we recycle the organic things around here."
"Well, I asked, "What would have happened if I took the permanent dirt nap?"
"I could have harvested your organs and sell them on the black market."
"WHAT?!"
"Nothing."
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 9:10 pm
"I see..." he said unevenly before walking down the road, towards the massive hotel. Strange encounters aside he was happy to track Omi.
[Moving To Hotel]
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:11 pm
 "I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"Arian was awake. Drugged a bit, but awake nonetheless.
The Courtelli native had finally ventured out of her older brother's room again, apparently deciding to risk another run in with Charlie or the bothersome dragon. Or maybe she was just too out of it to care if she ran into either, anyway.
Arian felt better. She had hit up the medical ward for another healing session, and no longer required the collar-no, neckbrace-for her spine. Sure, it hurt to turn her head or look down or up too quickly-but she could manage that, and the dull ache that shot up anytime she stepped too quickly.
The roaring headache was kept at bay by the painkillers-of which Arian refused to take more than one half for every four hours. It did the job well enough.
She was dressed in yet another sleeveless turtle neck, half of the double V brand exposed, along with half of the dotted outline circle around it. Brown, red undertoned, dusky skin was seen stretched softly over a toned and feminine bicep, unmarred-while her other arm, the right one, was bandaged from her elbow up to her shoulder-protecting the still healing burns. The rest of that arm was fine.
She wore jeans and a pair of familiar, travel worn cloth boots, and if they had had a shoe size to them, they would have been six and a half or size seven, women's. She didn't seem to be doing much, or going anywhere-just a soft stroll through the park, her steps silent on the stone walk, her full lips relaxed but closed, vibrantly blue eyes not as watchful as usual-glossy dark hair pulled into a low pony tail at the base of her neck, somewhat mushed up, like she'd been lying on it somewhere.
Her longish bangs were brushed to the side, though they occasionally slipped back down over one eye-where Arian blew them back out of her face.
Behind the outlaw, was a small, fluffy, adorable orange and white kitten. It was following Arian in a preoccupied saunter-occasionally attacking the back of her pant legs, which were too long, and so she was walking on the edge of them, just barely.
It was cute, but Arian seemed to not be paying attention to it-though if one got closer enough, they'd hear a soft, pretty hummed tune coming from the outlaw-something happy and rather soothing sounding, probably some Courtelli song. The beautiful woman was obviously foreign, after all-so it made sense the song she hummed was. "I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 11:02 pm
The Escape...
"Hah! Hah!" Slapping his trusty steed, Epona, on her rear, the green-clad Hyrulian Knight raced down the stone walkway of Hangman's Park with all the fervor he could instill into his already frightened horse. While Link was a relatively unheard of name in these lands, the Sword of Evil's Bane certainly was not, for a plethora of a various formed demons followed in the dust left in the Hero's wake at varying speeds. Some were brutish, others were agile, but all could not deny their innate bloodlust for the young-man who's weapon resonated the desire for their deaths. Already injured by the initial ambush, a steady flow of blood streamed down Epona's flank from Link's thigh as they attempted to flee their pursuers.
Clop-clop-clop-clop---Clop-clop-clop-clop. "Hah! Hah!"
It was then that the trio, for there was another companion of Link's hiding within the confines of his cap, noticed a woman in their path and a cat following suite. Innocent bystanders to be sure, and neither of the three desired to put them in harm's way. With a subtle command of the reins coupled with Epona's own refrain from running both cat and woman over, the lot of them shifted their direction from colliding into Arian, to circumnavigating around her. They would have bolted in another direction altogether, but the horse's speed with Link's heavy form ontop restricted such agile maneuvers. "Hey! Move out of the way!" Screeched a decidedly female Fairy as she flew out of Link's cap when they rode past, trailing behind for a few moments beside Arian before flying with impressive speed to her companion's side once again. No sooner had she had issued her warning that the ten-and-four demon's that were in hot pursuit approached and threatened to run both Arian and her fluffy companion over.
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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2009 8:26 am
"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"Clop-clop-clop-clop---Clop-clop-clop-clop
Odd...that didn't go in the song at all...
Arian's eyes were drawn up and back before her-where they widened just a smidgen.
HOWEVER!
She wasn't Arian Lennox for nothing. Arian had seen horses before-not in a long time, but she'd seen them. She also knew the destructive power of their hooves. There was a fluffy kitten somewhere behind her-no, right there, cowering against her right ankle-the kitten was scooped up and held in the crook of Arian's bandaged right elbow-as her vibrantly colored eyes shifted from the horse to the demons.
Moving before the horse passed wasn't wise-for surely he intended to shift direction or at least go AROUND her, right? Arian wouldn't much like ending up in the way again....
Kitten? Check. Swords, knives, tonfas, other things to deal with possibly violent demons? Che-wait.
Arian blinked as the horse neared, the air whooshing as she realized, in her half drugged-on-painkillers-state, that she only had one knife, sheathed at the small of her back beneath the sleeveless turtleneck. Hm.
A foreign word was uttered just behind the weird elf eared green wearing guy as someone added about a hundred and eighteen pounds to the weight poor Epona was carrying. Arian had gripped the saddle somewhere and swung herself up rather...expertly-though she's never ridden a horse in her life.
The kitten was a poofed up ball of fear, and Arian couldn't blame her. Her left hand hung on to the end of the saddle, which Arian was not on-but rather just behind it, frowning.
The pursuing demons...where rather annoying. And so was the horse riding-Arian's spine took the jolts of the horse's movements and provided quite the bit of pain for the still healing outlaw-but nonetheless, she wasn't going to hang back and get run down by demons...
Her hand was starting to hurt with her odd pincer grip on the saddle-to a point Arian shifted the kitten before her and grabbed onto HIM instead. She was going to fall off-oh wait, no she wasn't.
"What language?" Arian shouted at him so he might hear her-she's yet to hear him speak. Her English was accented, a rather exotic lilt to her vowels and all harsh sounds, such as the t in what, where softened, lending a musical quality to her speech.
He looked pretty foreign. Arian was too. She tried English, which she was fluent in, before Elvish, which she knew very little. What was a horse doing on an island, anyway?
(Bullshit post? Sorry...bored.)
"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."
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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2009 8:09 pm
Tightening his hold on the reins, Link began to press his heels into Epona's flanks but to little avail. She might have been a great riding steed, but she was far from a war horse. With the saddlebags she carried coupled with the added weight of both Link and now Arian, her initial swift and steady gait waned. The demons wouldn't take them just yet, but a sure escape had now turned into a gambit, and conflict would no longer be unavoidable. If Link had any qualms with this, he made no inclination of it, but rather set his jaw in grim determination. Navi, however, was far from silent."Get off of him!"She practically screeched before quickly scurrying into Link's cap as his left hand reached up to grab the hilt of the Master Sword. Ever the cunning person, The Hero of Time had devised a plan of action while remaining silent. It wasn't out of a lack of manners, for Link knew better, but rather he didn't want to bite his tounge while Epona galloped.
Unsheathing his sword and flourishing the single-handed double-edged blade with an interesting and admirable display of dexterity, Link grasped the blue wire hilt in an underhand grip and proceeded to stab through the top of bag and work his way down, all while remaining a steadfast hold upon the reins. What was he attempting to do? He didn't have to look as the saddlebag was pierced through the bottom, rented open, and spilled it's contents. Bundles of arrows, jewels of somesort, a few strange looking masks, and a good deal of bombs with rudimentary fuses. And as soon as the contents spilled, Link flourished his weapon once again and sheathed the blade upon his back before reaching over and grabbing his already strung bow which was strapped to the other side of the saddle.
Epona, through some God-send, swerved upon her own accord and off the path and into the grass, effectively showing a portion of her flank to the demons that approached. Link, in the time between, twisted his torso and notched an arrow while delving into the throes of magic he possessed. It was a tight shot, and all the more uncomfortable to do with Arian grabbing onto him, but the Hero's aim was true as he released the arrow along with the magic infused therein. The tip of the arrow exploded into flames in a flash before puncturing a bomb and thus causing a very big, very deadly, explosion. Several demons died instantly in the flash of the explosion, others were knocked down and incapacitated, while the rest were blinded by the light and the gathering dust cloud after.
Raising one hand and grabbing Epona's reins once more, Link eased the horse into a trot as he surveyed the destruction he had wrought, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw still clenched. Epona nickered, walked around in a circle, then finally settled as both studiously regarded the settling plume of smoke and dirt. Then, inside his cap and very much audiable to Arian, Navi spoke. "Listen!" The groans and lamentations of the wounded wafted through the air, Link sighing in return before moving his hand down to his wounded thigh. His breeches were already stained crimson while he could already feel his own blood make the interior of his boot soggy and wet.
It was then, at the end of things, that Link turned his head and laid cerulean optics upon Arian. He studied the woman for a few moments before finally answering the question she had asked previously. "Common." English to be frank, but they called it Common in the land he was from. With a subtle c**k of his chin, Link motioned for Arian to divest herself from him and his mount before leaning over and strapping his bow to the saddle once more. He needed to go back to the scene of the explosion, kill the wounded, gather his effects, and leave before more came.
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Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2009 11:37 pm
The Archangel Mordecai descended delicately to the ground. He heard, somewhere in the distance, the sound of hooves, yelling, and general mayhem. Now was not the time for inquiring minds, however, as the angel was preoccupied. The ivory skinned celestial headed for a nice little hill, rising more steeply on one side, with a crescent curve, and slowly rolling down on the other side. Here, at its crest, he sat on his knees. He was here for prayer, but he did not immediately begin praying.
Instead, he would think.
Thinking was an interesting pastime for angels. On the one hand, of course angels had thoughts, they were not automatons. They had feelings, dreams, and thoughts like any other being. However, the truth was that they weren't like any other being. They were angels, and so they approached things with a singular perspective. They were less likely to spend their time questioning authority - for they placed their trust whole heartedly into the benevolence of their Lord, of His strength and good will. What they did not immediately understand, they chalked up to the ineffible grand scheme of things. And, by and large, this worked, as it has for millenia.
But sometimes an angel had to wonder about the choices their King was making, and how everything was connected. In this respect, Mordecai couldn't entirely understand what was happening with Vince and Lathander. He did not know what Vince's motives were, and thought this was a small concern - one dragon against a God, how worrisome could that really be? - it had grown in the back of his mind into doubt. Doubt was a dangerous thing, as Mordecai already knew. There was more here, he knew, but he did not understand it.
Meanwhile, there was Abigail on his mind, which was equally disconcerting. Mortals rarely held his interest for very long; they were so very fragile, dying off at the slightest change in climate or surroundings. But something about her had caught his interest, and now he find himself seeking out her company. His motives were innocent, naturally, purely platonic in nature, but it was not an urge he felt very often.
With these thoughts in mind, he sought some sort of guidance from Lathander. He closed his eyes, his body glowing gently in the sunlight, and began to pray. It was an abstract sort of prayer, but it amounted to a very simple thought.
Lathander, guide me. Give me a sign.
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 2:38 pm
Things were happening on the island and around the park especially. One such event was the massive ogre that hadn't yet been eliminated from the tournament hefting rather large boulders behind his back. Three extremely heavy boulders at that. A four hundred pound boulder in each of the ogre's massive hands, and stacked upon those two, a thousand pound boulder rested atop. The boulders were strapped around the backs with a long rope that was meant to hold the rocks to Garok so that he didn't drop them, even though he wouldn't.
This exercise, if that's what you wanted to call it, was designed by Omi Barsait. Carry 1800 pounds of rock and stone on a hike around the perimeter of the island ten times, and then, he was to attend to Omi Barsait for the rest of the training for the evening. With a disgruntled look, the massive ogre began his hike around the island ten times.
He would not return for many hours, and every waking second he spent hiking, his hatred for Kenji and Wilian was building.
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 5:28 pm
I'm an author and here's my story... The shadow walked into the park. He wore dark clothes as always, black on top of black, all cloth save for the knives in his sleeves, the metal vials at his waste, and the staff on his back. Coming from the hotel, he sauntered through the park. He seemed completely unaffected by his previous defeat, not even showing any wounds. That, as was much of him, was a front. He had been called by Omi Barsait for some training of one type or another. He had no idea what he was in for, and that was the way he liked it.
...My life's been full of pain, now where's my glory?
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 6:56 pm
Kenji strode into the park with a look of boredom on his face and his hands in his pockets. The sun glasses on his nose kept the pesky solar rays out of his eyes. He was not in his normal battle ready clothes today just a red tank top and some jeans, in fact the only slightly formidable bits on Ken were his worn combat boots and his metallic right forearm.
Kenji spotted Wil and headed over towards his comrade. In just a few moments he came up just next to Wil.
"Nice day huh? To bad we gotta be ruining it with trainin'." Ken said in a surprisingly monotone voice.
The fighter continued to be incredibly bored by the outside slouching in his posture. Why couldn't he be in the hotel room watch some stupid television show? No use complaining though, Omi wanted him here and so he was here. Training was such a drag.
A yawn escaped Ken's mouth as he stretched and brought his arms back down aiming agian for the pockets in his jeans.
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 12:35 am
What was he to do? He was bored out of his mind and no fights weren't happening at the moment. The red-hair, blue-eyed half devil was currently just walking through the forest bored out of his mind. Any type of entertainment would be welcome. From a friendly spar to a battle of life and death. But what were the chances of him getting that. A cross spear rested diagonally on his back, most of the spear sticking above his head. He wore no armor, only light clothing that allowed quick movements but provided no protection.
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 3:45 am
Not that there was any meaning in looking for a fight here in the Park, but by gods, the swordsman needed something rough to get his blood pumping. Having been evicted out of the infirmary by the meds when he was chatting up some business with Omi, and having spent some days doing some dull training here and there...
...
SLOW. Everything feels too damn slow. His Captain is still out of action as far as he knows, and not having seen Arian after the round the swordsman was as good as cut off with the current information he has right now. With Omi's fight in the last round still fresh in his mind, and with the urge to get some blood pumping affecting his otherwise bored personality -
The swordsman had all of his gears equipped for a fight he'll intentionally cause, one way or the other. Katanas and Halberd at the ready, his two bracers worn underneath the sleeves of his cloak and his trusty flask tucked inside his left breast pocket...
Finding a good open space to attract some fighters itchin for a fight, the swordsman grabbed his Halberd staff with both hands, planting the end staff of the weapon onto the ground in front of him as if in a prayer. Taking a deep breath, magic started to churn around him to help magnify the amplitude of his voice before he gave a loud shout that boomed out loud for anyone nearby to hear - "WHO HERE IS UP FOR A FIGHT?!" Not the best way to attract attention or pick up girls - which he still needs a bit of practice on - but it gets the job done, and clearly anyone who's itching for a fight like him would be able to find where the swordsman is, easily.
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