"You circle to 'inevitability.' Not all. " The General's rejoinder spoke of no understanding, if the words had even reached the other's brain. If there was a mind left to reach. Here is a zealot apparently many cups beyond reason. Naked force the only thing one given power and pain remains in learning of.
"You." The weapon came. Pain would inevitably follow, payment for trying to make something like a book a sword. " 'Every grave is a plot of land into which my eternal seeds do fall, So spricht das Leben.' "
And left to looking for a way to bury you, this night or some other, to find some better ending for such a soul. The General had already closed space between them, now declared intent with the drawing of weapon.
"Thraen Annual Planting—"
Sailor Scout Ability: 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
Nuxaz
Posted: Wed Feb 01, 2017 11:46 pm
While Thraen viewed the general as beyond reason, Labyrinthite viewed the conversation, and the points the senshi sought to make, as fruitless. They would go in circles if he let them, with the general's desire to keep things beneath a tightly drawn curtain. He had spoken too freely before, to order, and he sought not to make the same mistake again.
General Labyrinthite thought himself to be a man steadfast in his loyalties and his devotion. If he had a faith, it would be that of Metallia and her all-consuming nature.
Here was a man so deeply seeped in chaos that it had changed him, fundamentally, at his core.
"We circle," he said merrily, sharp teeth flashing in the dim lighting of the night. "Ah," he sighed, almost wistfully for the battle about to come. "And death comes knocking for you." His mouth twisted into a manic grin, because the senshi had given his name.
Seeds came his way, just as he lifted and swung his scythe, the scent wafted upwards, one foot within the bounds of the flower bed, and the general hissed, lids drooping as he sought to resist the call of sleep as it dug it's claws into him. The scythe swung it's arc, reach long from both the length of the staff and Labyrinthite's own reach, but a knee hit the ground anyway. <******** magic.
ivynian
he's currently half-asleep/process of dozing if that wasn't clear~
Nuxaz
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2017 11:40 am
Eyes drooped, polearm arced, knee fell— it was difficult to move already in the motions of casting. The magic did its job, while the scythe did its and followed the General's knee to swing, bite, at an awkward diagonal from the bottom of the backs of Thraen's ribs, across the boning of the cincher to his opposite hip. The metal stays prevented organs or spine from suffering. There were lines of dashed heat, like a butcher's diagram of the best cuts on a wall.
Forward- Lurched, lunged free of the marriage of flesh and weapon to try to drive the other to the surface of the concrete beneath them, beneath the color and blooms. While adrenaline still preserves. Catch his neck. Into the concrete. Hard. Flesh against stone. He might fall, roll, dodge—
Nuxaz
Posted: Tue Mar 07, 2017 11:30 am
The scythe had hit its mark, flying from Labyrinthite's hand as the magic threaded itself through his being, stealing from him his strength and awareness. His head tipped forward, body rocking as his other knee clattered against the ground, Labyrinthite's frame swaying before it careened backward.
Somewhere, his weapon cracked into the ground, leaving a crater in it's wake as the hardened bone knocked against concrete.
Even as his eyes fluttered closed, drowsiness weighing too heavily on his eyelids, Labyrinthite was lifting his arms, pulling them free of the weighted sleep, fingers stretching in a poor attempt to bat away the hands coming his way.
His back hit the ground with a heavy thud, legs lurching into the air wildly from impact. When a heel hit the ground, or connected with anything, he tried to push himself out of the magic circle but -
Timer, he thought, gotta outlast the timer -
Ivynain
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Posted: Thu Mar 30, 2017 12:27 am
Other attempts to end officers had met with unexpected rescues that had stolen away opportunity. There was a learning in that that could be taken two ways- kill faster, or spend at least one brash trying to cripple with damage so that they couldn't escape if help suddenly appeared.
The general's own weapon, the easiest blade to hand, was now too far away to quickly make use of. Seconds ticked away. A general's muscles, even at the throat, were still infused with as much power as his own. Thraen followed the body down, driving his knees at the card-suited torso, at the ribs, at the lungs beneath. What cosmic joke decorates any of us with bird-headed scythes and suits of cards? The distinctly modern, Carroll's work in the 1860s. No thing of the 'Silver Millennium.' How long and how much awareness does Metallia have? Or are the uniforms some mixed projection of something in the person? What does it mean.
Ridiculous. This man is ridiculous. Profane.
Nuxaz
Posted: Thu Apr 06, 2017 2:16 pm
General Labyrinthite thought himself as a man who was capable enough to not be one who needed rescuing and he recognized that Thraen was a formidable threat - he hadn't forgotten the damage done to his captain by the eternal's hands - but, as was often his folly, he did not account for the magic.
As the senshi's knee connected with his ribs, Labyrinthite grunted in pain, sleeping body curling into itself as if he were faced with a nightmare. Consciousness had been lost even as he gasped from the jolt of sharp pain that shuddered through him.
Something had cracked.
Somewhere in his head he was screaming wake up, wake up.
ivynian
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Posted: Sat May 20, 2017 8:30 pm
One. One. One. Alarm of instinct now to the time of his magic, honed on hunting night after night for years.
Seconds were out, and remained a General with two hands that could draw out a soul as quickly as summon back his weapon to him. don’t hold, still headbutt or knee. Then starseed.
There was one immediate response, and it was taken in the same flash, rather than waste time mulling. Still by the hold on the neck, Thraen lifted and hurled the man to Free Space, Free Fall, off and over the near ledge of the building. Muscle and flesh across his back, where the scythe had bitten protested and pooled with fire-sensation.
Energy could go to a teleport, the man knew and had chosen this ground. Or could right his General self, like a cat fallen from an apartment window, in time? It was uncertain. Or could hit and take more damage. Or hit something on the way down. He would find out as he pursued, after a moment, after righting himself from the impromptu Track and Field practice.
Blessedly, the magic timer had dinged and the pain of whatever Thraen had inflicted upon him woke Labyrinthite with a sharp and painful gasp. Momentum sent him soaring, flung away from the man and surely into a wall had the general not been able to mostly right himself. Each twist of his body sent sharp shivers of pain that left him hissing.
His landing was uncoordinated at best, the screaming of his broken ribs causing his mind to blank when he got one foot on the ground. Feet were still sliding, even as he collapsed onto one knee, arm slung across his torso as he skidded backwards. Tears ripped open on his knee and shin and the glove of the hand he tried to use to catch himself tore open. Broken cement and gravel tore into his fingers and Labyrinthite grit his teeth.
Slowly, unsteadily he rose, head cocking as amber eyes narrowed at his opponent.
Pride told him to keep pushing, the senshi was a menace and ought to be dealt with. He could picture the praise that might follow if he removed, or obtained, a prize like Thraen. Injuries, however, informed that continuing to push forward was a bad idea. If he stepped into that magic - or he used any of the other magic he surely had up his sleeve, it could end badly. Worse, anyway.
"Well," he said slowly, a wheezing breath inhaled followed by a hacking cough. Oh, perhaps the damage was worse than he felt. Pity. "This has been fun." His words weren't as cheeky as he would have liked, spots dotting his vision as he stumbled back, shoulder blades hitting the wall of the building he sought to avoid crashing into. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. "You've- " a wheeze followed by a cough, "given me a lot. Thanks...Thraen." He went to mock salute the senshi, laughter suddenly spilling from his mouth only to dissolve into a coughing fit and blood spitting from his mouth.
Yeah, it was time to go.
"Let's play again," he declared, trying to wink before using the last dredges of his waning energy to teleport away.
ivynian
fin on my end, thank you so much!
Nuxaz
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Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2017 7:23 pm
No— Every muscle screamed to move as the General managed to right himself in air. The danger had been real as gut had warned. Labyrinthite used ‘has’. Matched was the warning not to let the man get away. Not to let the man disengage before they’d one or the other come to an end of life. No.
A salute and the General was gone, the rooves empty of energy except his own. The eternal stood still, marking the emptiness for a solid minute with disgust. Ignored the heat of wound across his back. There is no ‘letting’ wit the Negaverse. No control. Damn.
Nothing accomplished here. Nothing gained back from those deaths. He turned. Thraen took off at a course of leaps.
