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 Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 7:50 pm
Drip.
Drip drip.
Droplets of blood was starting to drip down his body, forming a small pool of red onto the heated ground, the bandages that fastened the wounds turning completely red quickly. It was unfortunate that Arian was caught halfway in the blast, but the swordsman himself didn't have time to gauge how serious her condition is.
To tell the truth, he was having quite a difficult time trying to concentrate himself, his senses shifting between ignoring the pain to feeling the tearing sensation ripping all over his body. Like a dance between one pain from the next, the one major reason why the swordsman didn't make a mad dash away from the psychopath...
Is that if the blast failed to severely burn her, then running is rather useless. She can just throw out fire and trap them again, cutting off their escape route, or just chase after them while his wounds worsened under the run.
Either way was a dead end eventually.
"Arian." He muttered with a pained tone as he faltered a bit, his body swaying under his injuries. "I don't think... either one of us are able to run well enough to escape."
He took in a deep breath, coughing a bit as a small trickle of blood seeped out of his mouth. "Besides, if that didn't phase her...we would just be wasting energy running before she catches up to us again."
A pause, as he kept his charge going. "If there was only a large body of water somewhere...
...
.....
.......
How's your condition?"
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Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2009 8:19 am
"...pain..."
"Pain?"
"Pain...it means little...as long as I can still kill...nothing can stop me."
The one with the bow.>
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Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2009 9:37 am
Roen Jaeger ((Ladies; you're all beautiful, and you're all going to the prom.)) ((...yay! *Dances*))
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Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2009 9:45 am
The Dark Tournament had brought together an endless number of personal stories, different strands of life, and tied them all together into one thick cord. It is by an unknown virtue that people with no history, no similarities would find themselves pitted against each other. Or, in some cases, allies. Perhaps it was a stretch for Naota to claim anyone here as allies, but he was truely grasping for straws. Why bother, though? The man by no means had any sort of invested interest in anyone alive here. Never needed allies. But quite frankly, a life with no purpose wasn't worth living.
He needed conflict. Needed a reason to breathe, an excuse for a lifetime of training and warlike ways. This was just another release for him. An outlet. Besides, there were still some connections. Kalar and his ilk had been long time acquaintances of this particular ninja's. Oddly enough, the same with the DeSeers. While neither were actually involved in the fights here, allies of theirs were. The ally of my ally is also my ally.
Perhaps some details were in order.Gaia Prime had it's good share of ninja. Or at least people who claimed to be as such. Naota did his best to follow the more....authentic version. Where there were swarms in random garb that did nothing for stealth, this one was dressed in the purest of blacks. It looked like the material that clung to his figure swallowed up light, creating nothing but a void.
His style of weaponry was also vaguely evident. Medieval style weaponry, practical for it's reliably and silence. That, and it synced well with his inhuman physical attributes. A katana could be seen strapped to his back, the handle poking out over his shoulder. Likewise a combat dagger could be seen attached to his lower back, the handle pointed to the side. There were more blades and devices, though they were undetectable. Hidden amongst the folds of his outfit.
Not an inch of flesh could be visible. Hands were covered by gauntlets. The black metal of them wrapping it's way up his forearm, nearly reaching the elbow. Face hidden by that previously stated mask, though it was the only source of color to the man. While the there were no eye sockets, a golden scorpion was painted across it's porcelain make. A hood coming up to rim the outside of the mask and thus conceal his hair and neck.
As for power senses? Little would come of it. He'd over years of training managed to develop a way to hide from most rookies. Naturally, perfect stealth was impossible. Still, Naota had gathered the essence of his being into a tiny pin p***k of non-existance. Only a veteran fighter able to notice and acknowledge such a thing. Even then, it was capable enough of hiding his heritage and potential, all one could ask for.
This particular speck of nothingness was now heading towards the encounter at breakneck pace. His speed was above human capabilities, manifested in a sprint that was able to cover ten yards in a little over half a second. Coming from seemingly nowhere, which amounted to a still standing tree a short distance away, the man aimed to seemingly plow Trinity over.
Upon drawing into dangerous range, say about 15 yards away, the man would pound a metal clad fist on his chest. While appearing to be some sort of masculine show of strength, it was so much more than that. Below the folds of his clothes was a very special signet, empowered by a god himself. Zantara, The Grey Wanderer.
In a nutshell, the Celtic Knot Signet formed a sort of bubble around itself. Ten feet wide in diameter, a sphere of influence that removed all sorts of magical or supernatural effects. Even his own. However, by literally tossing himself at the red clad woman, he would be able to effectively shut down her hellish flames for a short time frame. Allow him to get in close and others to get away.
Too bad it only lasts 15 seconds.
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Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2009 10:05 am
 "I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"Arian moved forward slightly, hissing as the skin on her left leg pulled and stretched and tried to accommodate the movements of her left leg.
Her ARM had gotten it too! Expression darkening, Arian ignored the few splashed burns on her upper left bicep, staring hatefully into the swirling mother ******** FIRE tornado.
Snow was right, but Arian didn't like admitting it. She cast a side ways glance to him as he coughed, blood at his lips-Jesus. Snow was going to die on her.
Vibrantly colored orbs flicking back to the scene before her, Arian's eyes widened slightly as the woman, the God damned WOMAN, began to move towards them, her crazy a** fire storm just over her head.
Arian lifted her right hand and rubbed her forehead, tilting the helm back slightly to do so. "We're on an ISLAND. There are paths to the beach just over there-" But if they couldn't run...
"Better than yours." Arian stubbornly asserted, even if it was a lie-given his injuries, however, Arian was gauging it to be the truth. She wasn't one to b***h anyway. Not about pain. Not about weaknesses.
Were they going to die? Maybe. But at least it wasn't so hot over here, yet. She could breathe. Arian adjusted her grip on the short sword, drawing her hand back away from her face-and watched the woman coming closer, walking as if she didn't have a worry in the world- "God damn, is she STILL talki-"
Who the hell was that? Wide eyed, briefly surprised stupid, Arian stared only half a second before-
((?))"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."
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Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2009 7:57 am
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Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2009 7:04 pm
The Red Violin" Ooooo~ooooo....." A ghostly melody would ring throughout the forest. As soft, beautiful and familiar voice to some that were in the forest. One particular. The singing was accompanied, then replaced by a melody strung by a solitary violin. Both sounds encompassed the entire forest evenly, with no direction given. Mythical, mystical in its tone, the mythical music seemed to act as if it was nature herself grieving over a lost lover. Darkened clouds above the raging fire began quietly to rumble, followed by the sound of rain, hissing away at the flames as the downfall began to gain momentum. It was as if nature was taking the tone of the sad, somber tone of the music itself, and dousing the flames with the player's sorrows. But it would be the familiarity of it to one individual, that would have a more particular effect. The heart strings of memory were being pulled.
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Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 8:57 am
Before entering into anything dangerous, The Scorpion always developed a calm state of mind through meditation. It was not a sort of posture, nor was it named anything he knew of. However, the technique proved time and time again invaluable. Forming up a void in his mind with a single flame in the center, the masked man would feed all his emotions and stray thoughts in. Let the fire burn them away, devour them until nothing else remained in his mind but the fight. Even pain could be put aside.
And so, as he approached the fire wielding woman, he quickly formed up this state of meditation in his mind. No doubt in preparation for the pain and conflict to come. As for the fiery hell that came raining down upon him? Little could be done to avoid it. Running full speed meant one couldn't maneuver as they pleased, and his signet cut off any sort of supernatural defense he might have been able to summon up.
Hhowever, the damage wouldn't be as great as Trinity might have hoped. The flames would spill over the man's frame as he pressed on, but for what it was worth, they didn't really seem to affect him or his clothing too much. The reason? His garb was more than simply cloth. Microweave fibers of metal. A sort of lose, lightweight armor. While it did little to nothing versus peircing or bludgeoning attacks, it did aid in protecting against slashes....and apparently fire.
That isn't to say that Naota pressed on unharmed. Pain crept up his body, threatening to shatter the void he'd formed in his mind. However, like all other things, he merely fed it into the center, let it be consumed until there was nothing but calm.
And so the man burst through the fire, still at a dead sprint. Flames licking at his body, making him look the role of a fire elemental or some such. He was close now, hopefully too close for the woman to react to his continued assault. Arms pumped with each step, as any runner's did. However, as his left hand pumped back, it snagged onto the handle of his dagger. The weapon being attached to his lower back, handle jutting out to the side.
Pulling the weapon into view, it was all too clear that the dagger was of magical design. The Third Gift, the Vampiric Dagger. Blade is straight and a dull black color, measuring roughly a foot in length. Both edges sharp. Red runes are etched into the flat of the blade, and the handle has a small guard. Handle and guard are both gold colored. Naota would initially draw it in a reverse grip, but with expert dexterity be able to flick it into a proper hold in the same fluid motion in which it was drawn.
Fifteen yards is a short distance. The last burst before reaching Trinity taking barely more than a second, in theory. He had slowed down, after all, due to his signet's activation. Just enough time to draw his blade and hopefully plunge it into the woman. He ran towards her at a slight angle, aiming to plow into her with the same shoulder that held the blade.
The weapon is held low, poised to be thrust into her gut. The reasoning behind this was simple. While the blow wasn't instantly fatal, it could prove to be if allowed to wretch around in her guts. Moreso, the blade was kept low so as to provide some attempt at blocking her sword should she have impressive enough strength and reflexes to bring it back up from the ground.
Either way, he was about to collide into the woman with his dagger, arm, or shoulder. Hopefully dragging her to the ground with him. Whatever he did, it would have to be fast. 12 seconds remained.
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Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 3:50 pm
"Why you...!"
"That...music..."
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Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 9:26 pm
The swordsman frowned.
Of course, the beach. Though that didn't help some issues the swordsman would have using that large mass of water, considering its contents and not being close enough to use.
If it wasn't for the restrictions placed on his body, he could have summoned that large mass of water to his aid, and what's worse...
"Too much salt mixed in." He replied back to Arian. "If my condition had been better...it would have been fine. However, gathering the water directly from the beach from such distance, while in my current condition is, literally..."
Pouring salt onto his wounds. Gathering and separating the salt from the water would only waste more time than necessary, and with a flaming inferno of fire hovering above the woman, followed by rain falling from the sk-
Rain?
The swordsman didn't dare question how - by some streak luck - that there was a new input of water cascading from the skies. Not wanting to jinx a hopeful turn of events, he immediately took the opportune moment to leech as much water as he can falling around him, supercharging his second orb that manifested on his left hand, being gripped and pumped full of his magic to consolidate the density even further.
At the same time though, he also took some steps back, giving Arian a quick mutter;
"Now's a good chance."
His blade was still held in his right, being pointed at the fiery lady while the swordsman started to make a tactical retreat. At least, far away enough to make an escape if able to.
The trail of blood he's leaving behind shows just how his time is almost up - his breathing getting heavier and his vision starting to have a bit of blackness creeping up on the sides. Still, he kept his charge while he should be conserving his stamina, gathering enough energy and support to take out the fire once and for all...
If he doesn't collapse first before that happens.
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 6:53 pm
"It's time to leave, Snow." Coming up behind the swordsman and raising his hand, the Darkened Devil would place his sword-calloused finger-tips on the man's right shoulder as he brushed passed him on his way to Arian. Of all the people that could have showed up, it was one Roen D. Jaeger who had decided to help the duo out. Not because they were on the Dream Team together and had shared a locker room once or twice; but rather because Faustina Jaeger, the Devil's own flesh and blood offspring, had asked him to help. Not wanting to endure whatever whining his daughter might put him through and thus save himself a headache or two, he had decided to leave the main arena and travel to the once scorched and now drenched park where a private war was being waged.
Watching whomever it was who was currently engaged with the fiery redhead before them all, Roen would heave in a deep breath of the pleasently smoky air around before raising his hand to his forehead and slicking his unruly hair back. It might have been in a pony-tail, but it meant little in the ways of the tendrils that found their way into his face. "You don't look so well." he said to Arian as he disengaged his eyes from the ninja and the woman to look upon her. "I think it's a good idea if you leave with me and Snow, Arian. You look like you're about to drop where you stand."
Generous? Extraordinarily. He was definitely bringing Snow back to the Alibi, whether he had to drag the swordsman or not; but Roen couldn't leave Arian without a guilty conscience. The small in stature but large in valor woman had caught his eye, as it were. Snow, on the other hand, had to come for Faustina. Living proof was the best proof and all.
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 8:21 pm
"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"
Now WAS a good time. But Arian waited. She wasn't sure what was going on with the music or the woman, and in her heat induced, exhausted state, she was half caught up in the tune herself, if it weren't for her survival instinct.
Narrowed blue eyes watched the woman, short sword held loosely at her side-giving Snow time to back up. The rain felt kind of nice, and at the same time stinging. Water slid down the outlaw's attractive face, slipping over full lips that were parted slightly in exertion. She could feel hot blood on the inside of her damaged armor, stitching having torn-but she knew it was nothing compared to Snow's injuries.
Arian was too tired to be all that angry, however. Her temper simmered while the outlaw stood in the rain, getting drenched and half not caring, because at least it wasn't so hot anymore.
Someone spoke English somewhere behind her, but Arian wasn't really listening and didn't bother to translate, simply because it didn't register as a threat. Odd, for one so paranoid-but she was too tired to turn around and be scary. She would just wait until it seemed a problem, turn around-and stab them as they snuck up on her. It wasn't as violent, but it sure was effective.
Well, until she realized it was ROEN's voice. Vibrantly colored eyes gave a blink as she struggled to translate from memory before- 'You don't look so well.'
Arian cast a glance towards the devil, frowning slightly-before the exotic native glanced downwards to herself. Well. Suppose she didn't. But that didn't mean she wasn't able to fight, dammit-Arian wasn't sure, entirely, how to deal with Roen. On one hand, she wanted to beat him up for threatening her. On the other, she wanted to beat him for his letter.
Arian supposed she really should beat him up then, two hands made a whole opinion-but getting her a** utterly handed to her would not improve her mood any, and having lost her staff-she was pretty damned sure it was a bad idea. Turning to face him head on, Arian gave him a darkly comtemplative glance, then one towards Snow. Him AND Snow?
Since when did Roen help people? And-why the hell would he help her? Arian rarely got a break or any sort of assistance, was suspicious of rare offers, and usually-rightfully so.
Would Roen try to harm the swordsman? Would Roen try to harm HER, sell her out to hunters? Possibly. Hell, Arian didn't know. She did need out of here, however-she knew there were people looking for her, and she was in no shape to do much about it, should she be found. An entire arena had seen her tear out of there, after all, and- "...where are you going?" The outlaw couldn't quite follow the devil blindly, after all. She trusted him about as far as she could throw him, but that really wasn't abnormal-Arian trusted EVERYBODY as far as she could throw them.
"Snow's pretty hurt." Arian pointed out, as if her earlier question didn't really mean anything-her options limited, she was going to gamble on Roen's offer. She hated to rely on anyone but herself, but he was right-she half felt like she was going to drop right here, right now. Her throat was dry from the earlier heat, her lungs ached, her side was throbbing like a b***h (stupid dragons and their last ditch efforts), her leg and arm were splashed with burns that stung and she was just flat out tired.
She hadn't slept in three days. In another twelve hours, she wasn't going to be able to think straight and her fighting (were she to be at full health) would just go to s**t. She'd have to kill anyone who crossed her period, and even that might be a struggle.
And the blasted genie-what the ******** was going on with that? Arian had been drawn away before she knew what was happening. She didn't like that people were wishing for and then stealing the poor little thing as if she were an object. Didn't like it, and didn't know what to do about it, at this point. Roen had possessed the lamp. Perhaps he knew how to get it back, and therefore-the genie.
Opposite hand reached up and slowly pulled off the leather helm. She didn't usually wear it, and it was bothering her. Dark glossy hair spilled out of it, quickly becoming soaked. She tossed it away from her, thinking about her bag and her spare staff, thinking about THIS staff she'd be abandoning-but Arian couldn't care. Brushing longish bangs out of her eyes, she watched the woman only a second longer-and then back towards Roen.
The outlaw was done with Hanged Man's Island. Her expressive eyes said so loud and clear, despite the impassive, clearly exhausted expression that told nothing else on her face. "I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 10:22 am
It was a shame that the majority of The Scorpion's enhanced strength and speed were dampened by his own null field. If not, he would no doubt have a far better chance against the woman whom he now faced. As it was, he was reliant on nothing more than cunning and surprises. That would just have to do.
There was little to no time to react, as close as he was to her while still running at a full sprint. With Trinity bringing her weapon to his right side to slash at his chest. By doing this, she'd manage to avoid any capability of his dagger blocking or diverting the larger weapon. However, Naota was one to change such setbacks into benefits.
As stated before, the man was wearing gauntlets. Heavy duty metal all the way up to his elbows, the defensive devises had proven to be capable of taking a beating time and time again. They'd just have to do it one more time. Right hand that'd been pumping with the motion of sprinting would be close to his chest. Close enough to get between the blade and his otherwise exposed torso, and then divert the blade up and away. Letting it glance off wasn't perfect, however, the blade managed to still slice into the meat portion of his upper right arm.
The only thing left to do would be the pair of them colliding. While the masked ninja was unsure of what would happen to Trinity, he was fully aware of what was happening to him. Running into the woman, being thrown off balance and somewhat off at an angle. Though he would be able to tumble and spin around, it did leave him vulnerable for a few seconds.
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 5:58 pm
The swordsman nearly whirled about and rammed an orb chock full of extremely pressurized water into Roen's gut. If he had, if it doesn't pierce through the gut, then a direct blow of pure blunt force would certainly make the Devil cough up any food he had ingested in the past few hours.
Other than being blown some meters back in the process.
Of course, this is if the swordsman is in good condition. However, he was much too preoccupied with the fiery madwoman and the retreat to pay much attention to Roen's suggestions, the Devil causing him to divert his gaze only briefly to the newcomer.
"Not..."
The swordsman raised his left arm, brandishing the orb in his hand as he then used the last amount of strength he could spare -
- Condensing the size of the orb to the absolute smallest as possible -
"YET!"
And with a hurl, the swordsman hurled the supercharged orb into the flames above, letting loose the one thing he can do to extinguish the fire.
A resounding explosion in a few seconds revealed the results; like the orb that he had used to put out the majority of the fire in the park, the orb that he used utilized the same principle, blasting itself deep within the vortex of flames, and using the pressurized blast to destroy the fire from within.
Killing the fuel that conventional fires would require to keep itself combustible, a chill permeated out of his results as it wiped out the vast majority of the madwoman's support. While anyone in the near vicinity of the blast would be immediately hurled back from the sheer shockwave, the steam that came from the resulting explosion also did its work in taking out any other fires that remained flaming after the extinguishment.
That...should make things easier for others to take care of that girl.
"Gah!"
More blood spurted out of his mouth. As if having something snapped inside of his body, his posture suddenly collapsed, the sheer drain in his stamina and mental ignorance to his pain overloading his senses - his breathing coming in gasps as his blade fell from his grasp.
The weapon then clattered to the ground, followed by the swordsman collapsing onto his stomach, his face pale from bloodloss and his fatigue.
Arian was right.
The swordsman is seriously injured. In his current critical condition...
He might not last long.
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 7:52 pm
"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"Holy ******** s**t-vibrant, tired eyes were comically widened, staring at the orb's explosion and the effect it had. Times like these...Arian felt horribly out of her element, out matched and grossly underpowered.
Human. Standing here stupidly with a short sword.
...she wouldn't think about this right now, nor rebel against the facts, as she usually did. As she had done, this tournament. Arian Lennox was rumored to be a demon of some kind, after all.
The human did alright for herself, most of the time.
But...Snow had appeared on his last leg. Arian's mind registered this in her exhaustion. What the hell kind of toll had THAT taken on the Swordsman? Arian's mind sharpened, banishing the blurry edges of exhaustion from the forefront of her mind, bringing the world into sharp focus once more.
"God dammit-" The outlaw muttered, that accent taking the harshness out of 'dammit', making it seem more like 'demmi'. Arian turned yet again to face Snow, the man spitting up blood. She took a bad step forward, hissed at the pain it caused-looked a little feral a moment there, the pretty outlaw did-and then doggedly moved on anyway, soaked cloak clinging to her leather armored form, looking rather heavy.
Arian seemed to be muttering a stream of curses, actually, in her native language-which, even while using vile words, sounded pretty musical. "Are the healers still here?" Arian threw out the question, not sure if she'd be answered or not, not sure if she could get Roen to help her drag Snow's a** or not-pulling at the strings of her cloak, Arian figured she could roll the swordsman onto it and-but God dammit, he was probably heavy, and it'd be a long ******** trip with a lot of jerks...
Arian wasn't sure she could do it. Not very quickly, and as it was...
Frustration with both her size and her exhaustion, Arian had half a mind to go MAKE someone come tend to Snow, but being unable to run, hell, hardly able to walk right, the man might be dead before she even got back. And who was she going to threaten and coerce anyway, on this ******** island?"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."
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