Twenty-weight, extended gait for each that beat the pave- Thraen ran. It had been one hour of his usual daily count already. The average man could run 6 miles in an hour, but powered speed and endurance probably clocked an eternal more near 15 so far. It had been without shadows- youma or otherwise, darkening the minutes. The eternal paused atop a bank sign, breathing, reorienting to the streets and the mental map of the city that gained breadth with each run.
There have been no order signatures either so far. Though the city is large, I wonder if it would be possible to have a census app on the phones that would show how many or who was active on any given night. Like old forums that show what users are active and the number of guests logged in. They're all on the same network, or cloud, or whatever the phones utilize for their database that the Mauvians built and accessed. That might make people more inclined to talk to each other, and patrol with one another. We'd all know that the other person was already powered up and out, so its not 'bothering' them as much to team up-
A bonfire of chaos lit across to the edges of his awareness, hovered a moment and then sprang out of his radius. Thraen's eyes snapped to the direction it had been, springing into action again- A General walks out from the black. If they teleported, I'll not be able to catch them. If not, then ...what? Which one is it?
Air swallowed as he sprinted. The Chaos-fire rekindled at the edge and seemed to not move, distance eating up as a match between them. The common place locations carouselled through his hindthought- alleys, rooftops, gardens, places out of immediate sight where bodies could bloat after untimely death. It was extra fitting as the blocks turned bad with boarded windows, or barred and neon-open lottery and cigarettes. No businesses. Housing without locks because the doors had been forced too many times already. Divots called bars with booze and stools to grow into and never leave. It was late enough they were populated and all well into their drinks. Music spilled as easily by his running form as the urine into the storm drains.
This is a General. Teleportation, weapon, youma at their call. Like Wolframite. His pink friend. Like Bischofite. If we fight, there will be blood; accept pain and push beyond. Focus. Acclimation drew his eyes to figures drawing in pocked shadows where metal glinted with streaks from the Pabst sign and the pinpoint of chaos- there. Armor had no place on regular people unless it was a playhouse or a renaissance faire. There was a man slumping down and a feel of energy in the air. Thraen approached with plain, heavy steps. "Leave off this thieving guidance, the morals of rats and roaches. Or tell thy sorrows to the stones, as I will make end of it for you."
Beejoux
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 3:16 pm
It never ceased to amuse, the will to fight, the fleeting hope of salvation as the dread and doom settled over them. She loved to see it, the knowledge that darkened wide eyes as they realized hope was folly. Fear predominated, but occasionally she saw defiance, resolve, even relief. A veritable plethora of emotions that were all right there for her, ripe for the picking. She need only reach out and take them.
And she did, the fingers of her left hand curled tight into the front of the man's shirt as the right sank into the broad barrel of his chest. He swore at her, teeth grit and blood on his lips, and the general only smiled sweetly down at him, lips pursed as she shushed him. "It won't hurt." Not this, not anymore. Soon now, a moment at the most, he would be beyond the reach of pain and suffering. Soon the light would fade from his eyes, the tension from his muscles, and the life from his body. Grinning, Xenotime wrapped her fingers around the edged starseed in the man's body, drawing it out.
She felt it as the colorful little crystal came into view, the strong ping of an eternal, and they were charging towards her. It had her lips curling in irritation, hand tightening on the starseed clutched in her fist, as she let the dying man drop at her feet and straightened. "You, end me?" A harsh snort of a laugh, and the crystal disappeared into the pouch at her hip. "I would love to see you try."
Heavy, deliberate steps brought the eternal closer, and silvered eyes narrowed on the flowers, the flow of branch and root that seemed to wrap around him as a lover's embrace. Recognition kindled like an ember in the wind. She knew him. Not personally, but of him. He'd once tried to take something from her. Something more precious than words could say. Those long, pale fingers had once sought to crush the windpipe of someone incredibly dear to her. Thraen.
That was years ago now. Bischofite was gone, lost to her, but his memory remained. Would always remain. Killing Thraen wouldn't bring him back, nothing would, but God, it would feel so good.
I miss him...
ivynian
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Posted: Fri Aug 21, 2015 10:05 am
"Then let love be not disappointed, General. " Not just an energy drain, but full removal of the starseed. An issued gaunlet on the ground. The eternal raised his arms to balanced and guarded ready. Not an ideal day. So it must go.
He had no likewise descriptions of her, nor suspicion that she would know much of him. Officers he met never seemed to so far. It wouldn't change the demand and necessity of justice. It could alter tactics, insofar as how much of his magic was known, but not the conviction. Thraen shifted his stance and balance likewise, then darted forward in a right feinted jab at the air on the side of her head, hoping to make her draw her defense to the side.
Beejoux
Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2015 9:03 am
"No, we can't have that, can we Thraen?" A name drop to distract, or even to rattle, but the eternal was already moving towards her to cast the first attack.
The general didn't flinch as easily as that. The jab moved past the side of her face, catching hood and hair alike, but if his hand brushed her skin it was a faint thing. His was a tact she'd seen before in the ring, and she was no stranger to it. It meant a deepening of her smile and a backward step. Heel twisting against the ground as her body rotated, and the upward c**k of a dainty fist to one side before she was throwing a hook at the side of his face.
ivynian
Tiny tag is tiny. idek
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Posted: Fri Aug 28, 2015 4:54 pm
She had a fluidity that spoke to hours of practice and training. It was possible that it was just having earned the rank of General, but having watched his own cousin in her martial studies, he suspected this woman trained at actual combat in some capacity. Blessed be that conditioning meant his name did not slow him. It was a curious, puzzling facet. Did he know her? He'd been a senshi for a sizable chunk of the pie chart of his total years of life. Uniforms did change, but her colors and the basic features of the General's did not stand out as an evolution from any of the lieutenants or captains he'd personally engaged or peripherally seen. How doe she know me? None do. She was not at the White Phoenix Strike.
While his feint failed, her punch did not, snapping his face first- but he followed the momentum in a rapid arc step to get her back in sight, keep near to her, while not giving an opportunity at his starseed. A body could heal, given time, a lost starseed did not. The mind-game aspect, for as much as it mattered to his Stoicism, was equally in her favor. If he wanted to know, he had to ask. He punctuated the words with another feinted punch, more towards her core body, but actually aiming where he stepped in to try catch her instep with one of his boots. "We haven't met. How do you know me."
Beejoux
Posted: Fri Aug 28, 2015 8:28 pm
God, it was satisfying, that heavy sting that came with her knuckles connecting with the side of his face. It hurt, and she loved it, because no matter how much her hand ached, no matter how bruised her knuckles might be come morning, the point of impact certainly felt worse. Having been on the receiving end of a sound punch on multiple occasions she knew exactly how it felt. for him.
Not that it really mattered. He was going to die here to tonight if the scales tipped in her favor.
She did have to hand it to him though, the a*****e did know how to take a hit. His head snapped back, but it didn't stay back. He was moving forward again before he'd even completely straightened, and even blind he was doing a fair job of keeping his chest covered enough that she couldn't make a grab for his starseed. Not that she was inclined to make a snatch at it now, not before she'd made him hurt. He had to suffer what what he'd done, what he'd meant to do, and very nearly succeeded at. She wanted to watch him bleeding on the ground at her feet before ripped the little pulsing gem from her damn chest.
The feint resulted in small hands closing in to try to catch his wrist, body folding around to absorb a blow that didn't come nearly as hard as it should have, and she learned why a second later as the massive mass of his booted foot slammed down hard on top of her own. It made her hiss, teeth clenching as her lips pulled back in a vicious sneer.
"How indeed." To tell or not to tell. What would rattle him most, if at all. "You once tried to take away something precious to me." Her voice was a malicious hiss, proceeding the point of her elbow as she sought to drive it up into the underside of his chin, twisting with the motion. Maybe she'd get lucky, maybe she'd hit the point she'd already struck and break the bone.
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Posted: Mon Aug 31, 2015 7:43 pm
Thraen had enough time to hear her words, the processing of them jangling in and out like picture on a TV with a loose cable as his vision was blacked out and he stumbled backwards. Eight incisors and four canines all stabbed like knives in his jaw while a molten fissure felt to open along his chin. Her elbow-
It processed that her elbow had connected to his chin and thrown his head back. Physics demanded, like they were being animated by artists, that where his face lead his body would follow. The eternal senshi managed to scramble his feet under himself to prevent fully spilling onto his backside, but he was out of immediate melee and in a crouch. It was still close enough. "Thraen Perennial Planting!"
Vagaries hold no interest to me, girl. Keep your petty precious in its hole of memory.
Super Sailor Scout Ability: Thraen Perennial Planting How it Works - Thraen folds his hands together like holding a butterfly, the opens hands and they are full of seeds. He blows over them, dispersing the seeds. Hundreds of vined flowers spring up, growing and blooming magically. Their scent causes those who stand near them to fall asleep, while the vines bind them Range - The patch of vines and flowers that grows is a 12 ft radius around Thraen Duration - The flowers bloom in the post he casts them. If allies and enemies 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 vines, however, last until the flowerpatch vanishes, and they hold a person down, bound among the flowers. The patch lasts for 20 seconds before vanishing. Damage Summary - Someone might get a bruise from falling over. Weaknesses - If someone doesn't stay near them long enough, they don't fall asleep and get tangled. 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.
Beejoux
Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2015 3:17 pm
He stumbled but didn't go down, and the woman gave an irritable growl under her breath as she moved to follow, only to stop in her tracks as he called an attack. She was warned against his magic. Small green stems began to sprout at her feet, growing rapidly, and Xenotime leapt back into a back handspring that took her just outside the range of those grasping, tangling vines as they twisted and reached for her. A near thing. If he reaction time had been worse, if she hadn't been told to avoid his magics, he'd have caught her, but at least in this the odds were in her favor.
Landing in a crouch, the general glared over the writhing mass of flowers of a vines that stretched between them, counting down the seconds for the magic to clear. It couldn't last forever, no senshi trick ever did, she just had to be patient.
When it did end, and the flowers withered and faded into nothing, the general smiled. Metal wrapped around her arms, from shoulders to wrists, and spiked, solid rings circled her fingers. Thraen was every bit as dangerous as she'd been told, more-so, in fact, because he was at a higher level than when he'd damn near strangled Bischofite. No doubt the senshi had more tricks up his sleeves, and she couldn't afford to be careless, not here or now.
Digging her toe into the concrete gave her leverage to push off from, and she charged forward, closing that wide gap between them in a matter of paces, fist coming up in a a ready c**k to throw a right hook towards the side of his face.
ivynian
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Posted: Sat Sep 12, 2015 4:23 pm
Thraen didn't hold still, but paced in the ward of protection the magic created from those who knew to avoid it. Standing still presented too easy a target if an arrow or other assault were to come. Twenty seconds recouperation. Who knows my magic. Four. Five. Wolframite, his friend. Zircon. Alois. Buddingtonite. Pink Lieutenant. The trained woman i the leather. Feathers-for-brains. Maybe one or two others directly. None often encountered around anymore. At least one dead. Fourteen. Fifteen. The grasping, reaching vines started to fade. The flowers had five seconds more. The time had at least given him chance to swallow down extra saliva and blood for clear speech. "Name?"
She was moving. Metal materialized, must have been her weapon, but there wasn't time between the notation of it and the necessity to stop taking so much damage to his head. Thraen got his forearm up in time to absorb and block the blow. The rush of heat and wet sensation reported all that he needed of the spiked ends on the metal. Pain might follow in some seconds, once the shock to the area wore back from the compression. The arm didn't feel, pointlessly wooden, electric, not responding. The damage to her instep hadn't been enough to slow her, if it existed at all. If feet don't slow, take breath. Too many are able to retreat in these battles. We will not retreat from this. Neither of us.
He aimed his counter for her torso, where her punch had opened her armpit and ribcage.
Beejoux
Posted: Sun Sep 13, 2015 10:37 am
The question had barely registered in the general's mind. Rattling around unacknowledged as spiked knuckles connected solidly with the flesh of the arm he threw up to protect his face. The shock of it sang up her arm, tingling painfully, and if it hurt for her, it would hurt worst for him. Once he felt it.
Whatever delight she might have felt for the blow was woefully short lived. He was better than she had anticipated, just a bit, to exploit what few openings she left open for herself. The hit to the ribs staggered her, stealing her breath in a ragged rush that damn near sent her to her knees, but she kept her feet beneath her enough to retreat a few steps, hand clutching at her side as she gasped uselessly. Pale eyes alive and livid as she glared back at him. Every hard breath sent a stab of pain through the whole of that side of her chest, and it was the familiar sort of pain that spoke of cracked ribs, if not broken.
Her hair was falling in her face, long, vivid strands of violet that stood out against black warpaint and pale skin. Sticking to dark tint of color that painted her lips from pink to black. She swiped at them irritably, shoving a hand through her bangs to force them away, and knocking her hood back in the process.
Time was a luxury the general didn't have though. A few seconds to recover was all she was likely to get from the eternal. Teeth gritting around the sharp stabs of fractured ribs, she straightened again, sucking in a breath that seemed to burn do to her roots. He'd asked her a question, she remembered now, and an answer would by her a few seconds more. "Bischofite. You tried to strangle him." Very nearly succeeded. It had felt, to her, like the beginning of the end. A turning point, where after everything had crumbled and fallen between her fingers as she'd tried to hold on.
ivynian
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2015 9:47 pm
He'd been asking her name, but she answered it as a reiteration of his earlier question. Bischofite? Alois?
She must have been one of his other lovers. Like Orah, like Alex. In uniform? Out? It doesn't matter, really. He never knew Quenton and Thraen were the same. She doesn't know, but she knows Thraen. And my magic. She doesn't know he's dead, either. Not for certain, beyond that he cannot be found and answers no magic unless they can speak to the shades of the dead. It explains the facepaint, in a way, if alliances have any influence on our uniforms that way. She could manually paint it on every time. Why else bother with it, except homage, when we all spend mostly nights out. The sun isn't here to cause a glare. There was a humor, thin and grim, in how so many of the Negaverse wantonly murdered and attacked others, but then took exception and offense that anyone should do the same to them- that their own lives should somehow be beyond law and reproach, rather than forfeit. How dare he strangle a General who had strung up how many tens of people in traps just to watch them suffer and torture any who tried to save them. There was something missing in their minds that related the two things. Or arrogance that ignored it. "Bischofite reaps what he sows- as he lives, so he will be executed."
Thraen moved as the last magic faded, a crow-hopped sprint to close distance again, and he tried to aim a fisted blow at her clavicle.
Beejoux
Do the thiiiing~
Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2015 7:08 pm
"Bischofite reaps what he sows- as he lives, so he will be executed."
The words hung in the air between them like the deep tones of a bell, and Xenotime could feel her eyes widening just a touch as the eternal fell into motion to close that short gap between them. Did he mean... No time to think, no time to speculate or hope. Only the instinctual jerk of her body in response to the punch he aimed for her. Straightening, the general took a quick, dodging step to the left to remove herself from the line of those wicked knuckles, and as she did she was reaching for him.
Small fingers closed vice-like around his wrist, bones rubbing against bones, but whatever minor discomfort that brought him was nothing to what came after as she drove the heel of her opposite hand dead center against his forearm. There was an instance of resistance, the shock of the hit radiating up her arm and into her shoulder, then she felt the bone give. It sounded like someone was snapping a branch, but bone and muscle just didn't feel quite the same. There was a certain undeniable uniqueness to it.
She didn't stop at the break. Instead she pushed harder, forcing the points of snapped bone through sinew and skin alike. He was dangerous. Too dangerous. Take out the limbs, immobilize, then go in for the kill.
A yank on the arm and a sweeping kick to his kneels to bring him down to level. "Maybe," she snarled down at him, fingers twisting to the scalp. "But not by you." Her knee came up at the same time she pushed at his head.
ivynian
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 11:03 pm
A wrist grab meant something terrible was about to happen. A wrist grab was something trained martial artists did before they executed a throw, hold, or break. There was enough time to see sound, a peripheral snap of eyes to match the strange bloom of white and yellow with meaty pinks and reds from the wrappings of leaves, vines and flowers on his arm.
Anatomy. Radioulnar. Middle of the arm, fracture.
The world was tipping over, but his heart sounded like it was kicking up into a higher gear. Boot buckles and the seams of heeled shoes came into painful, but equal pinpoint focus as the higher buttons on the general's midsection. It felt like he could count each individual strand of her bangs. Orthopaedic chapter: Bones can break in several ways. In some cases, the bone breaks so that fragments stick out through the skin or a wound penetrates down to the broken bone. This is called an open fracture, or compound fracture, and requires immediate medical attention because of the risk for infection. The most common causes of forearm fractures include: direct blow, fall on an outstretched arm, often during sports or from a height, automobile/motorcycle accidents.
There was no breath for the ground to force out of him, having already exhaled hard when bone became more like branch beneath blow. All of his arm felt numb again, only it wasn't numb. Every nerve was screaming at his brain that there was something terribly wrong, all at once. Stillness, when untrained, against an enemy is certain death. Move. Think. God's breath, I can see the bones sharp against black sky. Pillars of white.
Thraen slid one boot, kicked it at her foot, her ankle- any hope to bring her down and not looming. Not mobile like a cobra, with her hood, over a broken-winged bird. The arm he couldn't hope to move, couldn't break through the static-fuzz that seemed to remove it from any consideration of immediate use. Did something jiggle in there? His body wanted to vomit.
Beejoux
Posted: Wed Sep 30, 2015 4:31 pm
She would kill him. Tear him. Rend, and rip, and dissect. Hate boiled over, giving way to fury and rage. A wild beast snarling over wounded prey.
He deserved to die. They all did, every last one that dared lay so much as a finger upon those she had ever, or would ever see value in. They were her's. If she had to single-handedly destroy the white moon one at a time, to keep them safe, then she would do so, gladly.
Fingers twisted painfully in pale hair, tearing strands from the scalp as she moved to drag him upward again, but he lashed out, kicking her in the shin with enough force to make her stumble. With the loss of balance came the loosening of her hand. A brief window of escape, if he took it.
ivynian
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2015 8:18 pm
His good arm arced up in what must have looked a wild flail above him, but served the purpose of clearing the last of his hair from her grasp as her hand fell away in a twist to break her fall. She was near enough to cast, but not disabled enough that she couldn't, the moment she heard him speak, just teleport away out of range. Two hands, beside. Only upper magic takes one...
Being in his own power meant his weight was on his knees again. Kicking wasn't fast enough anymore with requisite weight shift as well as a third point of reference of his good arm to the ground to hold him up. An actual weapon more than a fist was needed to do more lasting damage and try to push her into as much shock. I will manage it once. Sharp enough. Aim like to kill, between ribs. Don't hesitate.
Thraen turned, lunged with a modified 'punch' that treated his arm more like a qatar, hoped the bone would provide enough of a stiletto to inflict a deep, serious puncture.
