((I was hesitating between letting you go and having Bob chase you, but you obviously want to be somewhere else, and fun goes above all.))
Bob sighs as his playtoy leaves, gnawing a hole in his own world. The fortunate side effect of this was that the duck form would last until Unicron was trapped in something else, and the idea of Unicron devouring worlds as a monocle duck was quite amusing in and of itself. Bob sighed, and lay back, deciding what he should do. He didn't feel like getting too close to Stein, on the world where he had come from. While Bob was undoubtedly more powerful than the mad professor, Stein was one of the few beings capable of permanently killing Bob, and being as old as he was, Bob didn't much like taking risks.
Solus smiles. "Interesting. So witches are created by chance, and chance alone? And the only way to kill a witch is to deny their existence?" Bob thinks before asking his next question, planning out how he would deal with the other witches he might come across. While obviously he would want some of them for his harem, such as Beatrice, many would be too ugly or annoying to keep around. "So when you fight, you fight by attempting to deny the other's existence. So, theoretically, what would happen if a witch were to no longer believe in their own identity?"
As Alexander rushes forward, Dragoon growls iritably. He could fill a library with the amount of spells he could have used in this situation to slow, weaken, burn, freeze, strangle, or otherwise hinder his attacker. However, this complex spell required his full attention. He would cast Dominion, a spell that directly targets the opponent's mind. With his superior intellect, Dragoon was assured victory if he managed to pull this off, but he couldn't allow this imbecile to disturb the process. A little deception was in order. "Ha! Come closer, fool. You walk straight into the arms of your doom!"
Stein nods, sighing. "I don't know how I got here, and me and my daughter were seperated when two strange monsters were fighting each other. They looked like men, but they wielded unholy powers, reserved only for demons, witches and demon hunters." Stein makes this up as he goes along, pretending to be from a world he had visited once, were demons were the source of all magic. It was a simple, and even unnecesary ruse, but he used it regardless. "I was forced to fight my way here through several beings of less power. I myself am only an apprentice Demon Hunter, but I'm handy with a blade."
Mia drags Weiss out of sight, sensing her father nearby. He would no doubt be spinning the group Weiss came from around his finger. Everyone her dad met became a tool or a victim, and as she could sense no fighting, he had obviously chosen the former. She had no time to admire his work, however, instead focusing on her own victim, the fellow she'd captured earlier. She leaned close to him, looking him in the eye. She was sure he had to wake up soon, so she could play. It wouldn't be fun for him to stay asleep all the time. It'd be like playing with a doll. To encourage a swift awakening she cut off the middle finger of his left hand.
Hands clasped behind his back, Rift moves from place to place, observing the forest scenery. For him, teleporting was far more natural than walking, and he didn't use his legs except in dire need. It was such a bore, walking everywhere, and Rift had grown to pity his brothers, who were forced to rely on such a thing. So tiresome, so slow, and so inefficient. He could be anywhere he wanted, any time he wanted, instantly. And, using this skill, he observed several fights throughout the forest nearly simultaneously, moving back and forth rapidly between locations faster than any being could move normally.
While watching two beings trying to beat each other to a pulp was always good for a laugh, Rift was a social being by nature. Unlike some of his brothers, he preferred the company of humans. He was almost unique among the Slivers for desiring conversation outside of their group, enjoying chatter for the simple sake of chatter, instead of simply killing or torturing anything that moved or thought. Looking around the forest, Rift picked a small party of humans and two half-demons, an interesting mix, to speak to, appearing from a purple crack in the air. "Why hello there, fellow travelers. Could I interest any of you in some conversation?"
Blade holds his sword to Hazama's neck, the sharp point causing a trickle of blood to run down his throat. Blade stood completely ready, and it would be nearly impossible to dodge aside with one's head still attached to one's body. Then, for the second time this fight, Blade spoke. "Surrender."
