Really, Eurydike was trying real hard to go by Thraen's advice; but a few texts sent out that night to the scanty numbers he'd actually managed to pick up hadn't really been met with a whole lot of success, and by a whole lot, that meant any. There'd been none. No success. Which was fine and all. People had lives and s**t, and when his hours got as weird as they were, wasn't like he had a whole lot of place to judge what kind of hours his contacts kept. Much of a hypocrite as he was in a plethora of other ways, he wasn't the type to deny other people credit where it was due.
He was on the prowl for more Order signatures that night when he happened to catch a youma along the way, and hey - the whole level up thing kind of made handling those bastards a little easier, so he did. His magic still did jack s**t to help on the combat front, but it was cool; he'd gotten stronger with the whole stripey skirt deal, and some training under his belt didn't exactly hurt his odds.
Before too long, the youma had been reduced to little more than Hoover vomit left to flutter off in the autumn breeze, a satisfied grunt escaping as Eurydike cracked his scarred knuckles. He wouldn't exactly come out and say it was easy, but getting easier, yes. Progress was progress no matter how shitty you were, right?
Ivynian
This based on the assumption that this takes place after he goes super saiyan senshi via Faust, what do you think?
Posted: Mon Dec 07, 2015 12:07 am
Once, the height of fashion had been holders, longer the better, and everyone tended to roll for themselves. Personal blends, mother of pearl and meerschaum. But time passed. Then it was a manly art only, smoking, a thing for marlboro men and gamblers, or twitchy executives trying to calm their nerves between meetings. A crutch and a symbol, not an art. The band played on. Now it was illegal in so many places- public concerns about health and cancer, looking young, living forever. Mostly the poor used it as an excuse to get another 5 minutes away from their cash register that non-smokers weren't afforded. At least, for all that modern lack of majesty, it was still a mostly invisible way to stand in strange places without getting attention. As it were, at least she'd had some entertainment from the vantage of a fourth floor balcony of a private, sordid soirée.
The youma would be fine, fettered and starving again in the Rift in no time. The senshi that stood over it's dust, however, was interesting enough. He was small, but looked solid. Brimming with energy that could be made use of. Possibly full of himself after his little victory to be worth more of the evenings entertainment than the exhausted socialites inside beyond the sliding doors. Stroud melted into Schörl. The General vanished from the observing spot and appeared, midair, eight feet about the Super Senshi.
Not just a Regular pup. Well. Aren't you special As gravity drew her down, she aimed to kick him.
Eurydike had been in the process of fishing out the pack of cigarettes and lighter he made sure to keep on him when he was powered when he felt a spike of energy - and he paled in the instant it took to realize it was a general, and it was really, really ******** close, and - reflex won out, barely, as a ruffle of fabric gave him enough time to move.
Just barely, anyway. It was enough that he'd feel the wind shift as she rushed by him, mere inches between them. "s**t!" By instinct he made to shift, remembering too damn well his recent encounter with Xenotime. He wasn't exactly in the ******** mood to have someone else shove their hand into his chest. The super senshi jumped backwards, facing her still, his cigarettes and lighter having fallen to the ground in favor of a defensive stance.
Now what? He knew by now it was ******** stupid to attack, a story the scars on his face told better than any words, but -
So much for easier.
Ivynian
Posted: Thu Dec 10, 2015 2:52 am
The General landed in a tidy crouch, then extended a hand to gather the fallen pieces of interest. "Salem?"
Opening the pack revealed six remaining cancersticks. Enough of an addict to bother bringing the vice along through the transformation. "It would be a plebian searching out witches' teats in the evening to draw upon."
She sniffed the pack once, slide the bic into the vacant space inside the pack, then closed it up. "Trashy, not classy. Slumming with Youma and wasting your cancer on this offal. Don't worry- I can still find just the spot for you at home. "
Her dragoncane lifted, outstretched at him like saber in challenge. "Waste not, Want not. Ready to play?"
Trashy, not classy, "Well hey, ******** you too lady, " he spat back roughly without even really giving it a thought - and inwardly he cringed because really Hitch, really? Like he needed to go on picking a fight with yet another goddamn general.
Then she brandished her cane at him and Eurydike took a decisive step backwards, gritting his teeth and knowing damn well he couldn't just run - and even if he could've he wasn't totally sure if he could've swallowed his pride enough to do it -
Living is more important than pride, you ********' jackass.
Maybe he could talk his way out of this.
Oh yeah, great. Because you're soooo ********' great at talkin'. Yup. They're just gonna give you a goddamn award. Here you go Eurydike, you're officially the best ********' senshi at talkin', yup, you're a goddamn poet really, you got such a ********' way with words -
Well what the ******** else was he supposed to do?
"So hey, " he pointed his index finger at her, already wincing visibly because wow this was already terrible. "Here's a thought, goldie. How 'bout you just take the goddamn cigs an' we don't do that?"
Definitely should've stuck to punching.
Ivynian
Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2015 5:32 pm
"Nothing like proving, hm, Pudding?" Where DID the cats dig up this treat from? The very center of the inner city projects? Who knew, the white moon has its own little No Child Left Behind policy. A few marches around the Section 8 subsidized and they came away with this little gem.
She moved, sprinting at General's speed the small distance between them and slashed an arc with her cane in motion to try to welt his arms. "Why take paltry dime store addictions into what is an art?"
"Provin' what? - " and what the ******** was it with these ******** officers calling him all the pet names under the sun? Was it some kind of prerequisite for promotion to general? Make sure you can come up with lame a** nicknames on the fly. (Like he was really one to talk. But his were different, they were ******** creative.)
For all the training he was undertaking and his upgrade, she clearly had more, and a level up on him to boot - what movement he did manage to take trying to defend himself left the cane slapping soundly against his forearm with an audible crack, near his wrist. Eurydike hissed in pain, "<********>, " and eased back a step or two, still consciously moving to keep some distance between his chest and her hand.
She seemed to like fancy words that felt like riddles to him, or else they just existed on a plane above him. But whether he understood her correctly or not, "Nothin' to offer you, b***h, " however she meant it, that's what she got back from him, snarling like a feral beast.
No, Eurydike didn't want to fight a general; it was the last thing he'd wanted tonight. Does this phone have a distress beacon? Yeah, wait no, it got upgraded, there's an app, there's definitely a ********' app, it's -
He eased further back, willing his phone to his hand, trying to get some more distance and unlock it without looking. That went about as well as expected for someone who couldn't afford a smartphone on their own time. "So just back the ******** up!"
Ivynian
Posted: Mon Dec 28, 2015 10:31 pm
"You haven't even tried your magic yet. Turning in so soon?" A phone? He was pulling out a phone in the middle of their little spar? "Do. Call your friends. "
Call them all to witness your branding. Your passing out as I milk out every last ounce of energy from you like the cattle you are. And then they can take you back to your pasture to recuperate. To dream.
She stepped in precise, dance-like arcs. The dragon cane swung once more, aiming for his arms again- the more damage they took, the less likely he was to be able to lift them in the near future "I don't mind an audience. Even if the table is pretty bare. "
Like he was about to admit that his magic wasn't about to do a whole lot of good. It'd buy him a few seconds, sure, but his memory of trying to cast with Cinnabar was still fresh in his mind. Two broken fingers would do that to a guy.
Do. Call your friends. Well what the hell was that about? - wait. Was this a trap? Was she trying to trap someone? His finger hesitated on the call button, a sudden wave of anxiousness flooding through him. Thraen was his best connection that wasn't Celsus, and his arm had just gotten ******** to hell, and - if this was some kind of trap thing then -
He hesitated. That hesitation was long enough for the next slap of the cane against his arm to send the phone skittering to the ground, not enough to break it, but enough to put some distance, and <******** why did he let that happen.
"Can you talk like a normal person for like, five ********' seconds?!" he snapped, some degrees of logic seeping right from his brain as he tried to duck back, and finally caved and went ahead to at least try and cast, his battered arms aching in protest as he pressed his hands together and then spread them, seeking to complete a circle. "Salt of Man!"
Quote:
Super Sailor Scout Attack: Salt of Man. Eurydike performs the same motion as before, but the white of the ring glows a bit brighter. It can now protect a single senshi for sixty seconds. It may be extended to envelope up to three senshi -- but for each locked within the circle, it divides the time evenly amongst them (two is thirty seconds, three gets twenty seconds). A youma or lower level character may feel some pain if they throw themselves at the circle. Higher leveled characters do not share this sensation, and they can still break through it with relative ease.
Ivynian
Posted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 2:19 pm
'Normal person' A peel of laughter echoed around the nearest buildings, " Metaphor and Simile. Symbolism and the substantive adjective. Middle School language arts can only reach so many. "
Finally, the magic. And seeing the ring of grainy substrate appear, what had been laughter before spread wider and wider in toothsome smile. " ' What a clever little white witch!' "
"Will this keep me out? Will you write the names of 7 angels and 7 stars in your salt, and hope it keeps the devil at bay?" The General came on, still, undeterred, and swung the cane again at the barrier. Maybe it would blow her back, maybe some extreme Base-like property would try to burn and eat at flesh as much as acid. Maybe there would be a shatter, of a barrier, like glass. It was all welcome. It was all useful for learning this particular pretty's tricks.
Okay, that was definitely an insult. "Yeah, well - I reached your mom just fine last night, b***h, " he snapped back with a flip of his middle finger. Not the best comeback but, you know. Also it was kind of a gut reaction. Also he really had to stop running around calling generals bitches, or like, he probably should, this really hadn't gone well the last time. ******** him, man, ******** this ******** -
Did she really have to say witch? Why not wizard? - ******** whatever, it didn't even ******** matter! She didn't have to look so ******** happy about it!
This is bad. Oh goddamnit.
Two choices when this was done; run away, or punch real hard. That was about all he had, and he had to decide fast. Why didn't I keep my phone. Why did she want me to call people? - I don't want to be a ******** trap, goddamnit -
The barrier held some resistance, although it did not burn or crackle against the cane. Some, yes, but on a general's part it hardly would take much force to break it down and leave Eurydike exposed with a tinkle reminiscent of breaking glass fading into nothing. He was at least ready, or as ready as he could hope to be, ready to swing a fist at the general when she broke through - aiming for her face.
Ivynian
Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2016 11:48 pm
No burns, rebound or unusual explosions. No secondary magic of any kind, aside a barrier that showed some give. And the senshi inside seemed nervous of, still readying and prepared, so it was a magic as finite as all the rest whether by element of time or sheer damage. She pressed the assault, wheeled the rattan around again with flesh-stripping force and there was the shatter.
A fist. Her head snapped to the side as impact blossomed along her high cheek-bone in reds. They might be purple later. But the general did not lose focus and moved. She followed the retracting arm in and made a grab for his neck. I will drain you so that you can feel every ounce of strength fall away. So that you are forced to your knees and helpless. And you will feel your place. Know it. "So Kine speak of base breeding. Mothers and seed and their sex of no understanding in possibilities of this art, either."
The briefest surge of satisfaction he felt when his fist connected soundly with her face was very much short lived. He saw the hand coming for him, and thought to himself back away, get away, but even as he thought and made to do it, the general was as many had been before her simply faster than he was. Fingers closed around his throat and the salt senshi made a noise that was more feral than man, a bubbling snarl in the back of his throat that was half-choked and all defiance of a base level.
Her words were all but lost on him that time (not that they hadn't been before, just for a different reason this time) as he lashed out, aiming to strike again, be it with leg or fist - anything to try and get her away from him, to get that distance back again.
Ivynian
Posted: Sun Jan 31, 2016 6:11 pm
She turned her shoulders, avoiding another flail at her face to glance off her left shoulder. The general pushed. Tried to push forward and push him back with rapid steps to throw his balance away and take him to the ground via his neck. There was a knee to that connected somewhere between her hip and lower ribs in what should have been a soft area of stomach an flank.
There was no part of her that was soft.
"Struggle, pretty! I hate stationary prey. Hit harder, flail, resist, like a rabbit in a snare." She pushed through that ache, too, focusing on the Chaos and the draw, the orb that formed in her other hand. It was faster, easier, to drain a target with contact even if it was no longer necessary to have it.
Sure enough, Eurydike went down - and it reminded him too much of the time with Cinnabar then, being held down flat on his back with pressure to his neck. She was built much like the demon woman had been too, not the same height or the horns or the claws, but when it came to muscle, to softness - it was clear which side of the spectrum she dwelled.
It was not the first time he had been drained, but the fourth, so he recognized the seeping, creeping exhaustion that came with his energy being snatched away. This, though, was the first time as a senshi that it'd happened, and then a whole new kind of dread began to seep in. This woman knew she was a senshi, a threat. He had a civilian identity to protect this time. He was worth the effort to kill if he passed out like he had the other ******** this. ******** ******** ******** <********> - what was it with people saying s**t like that about him? Pretty, rabbit, pet - if he wasn't so worried about kind of dying, he would have been even more ******** pissed off about it because where did these bitches get off with that, like really?!
Eurydike saw it there in her other hand, his energy - the sight made him feel sick, and ******** he could feel what it was doing to him, and -
Okay. If she wasn't soft there, then where the ******** were most women soft, then?
Without mulling it over too much, with a feral gurgle of rage as he strained against her grip, he went ahead and aimed his fist right at her chest.
