Damn, Zeroth straight up blasting out IC posts as OOC updates now.
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Her opponent went limp to disperse the impact. Like checking a low kick by raising your leg. Like leaping back to absorb a punch.
Their training swords clacked with each other a second time, a parry to check the swing Fanilly used to give herself some distance. She was fast again, fast to recover, fast to respond, lunging forth for another swing. Horizontal once more. No. The wrists were rotating, her edge alignment was off.
“Good.”
A feint, one that swapped from one side to the other at the very last moment. Serenity could envision it, the pronation of the forearms, the strain of the biceps, to perform a directional change like that. It was a clean move that fought against the very momentum that Fanilly herself had built, all to gain the element of surprise.
A strike with lesser strength, but sufficient speed. Answered by an advance that caught it before the motion completed.
She stepped inwards once more, entangling herself into the fray. The longsword skid against the rim of the shield that caught, then guided it into the one-handed sword. A static block, locking both in place. Setting it up for Serenity's next step inwards, placing both combatants into a distance where neither blade was fully useful.
Now, it was a contest of strength, of attrition.
The lioness pushed outwards. Pushed to break Fanilly’s stance, before launching into a flurry of quick blows that sought to test her response to attacks upon every conceivable part of her body, from her head to her chest to her arm to her fingers to her legs.
Shield on the left, sword on the right.
Whereas shields too could be weapons, so too could swords become shields.
Just as Fanilly leveraged her mobility, Serenity leveraged her stability. She had not built up speed herself, not with her striding approach, and while there were some among the knights who would see a shield and decide to charge straight ahead to smash through it, Fanilly was not one of them. So just as how water consumed fire, just as how pillows could withstand what wooden boards could not, slowness could respond better to swiftness.
She didn’t pivot this time.
She stepped inwards, into her foe.
Serenity’s sword arm rose upwards, elbow facing out, as the training weapon aligned with the side of her body. This was not an axe that was being swung, where the pure impact could break bones. This was a sword, versatile and agile, capable of cutting and thrust, but never crushing.
Fanilly’s swing did not strike Serenity’s shield on the side. Her swing instead struck Serenity on the side, blades clacking for the first time in their spar. The impact was felt, but through the padding training vest, it would not leave a bruise.
And now, there was the pivot. The turning of the hips, the extension of her left arm, as the rim of her shield swung towards the Captain’s extended arms while her blade was bound on the opposite side.
It was the philosophy of the Dwarven Shieldragers, whose weapons were hefty enough to supplant shields, whose shields were sharp enough to supplant weapons.
Esfir would still have ended up doing the same thing, yah, cause presumably, Lazash still started eating before the others.
Aight kk. Figured that wasn't the case because she got the boost by the time the food itself was done cooking, so thought that she was eating a lot of the stuff raw.
A desperation measure.
The initial burst of speed one may get by physically flinging themselves into a dive-roll was good as a desperate measure to evade a strike, but the delay between finishing the roll, reorientating yourself, and finally attacking, all took too long, especially when one killed their own momentum when initiating that dive.
And, most importantly, it was easy to read. You could feint steps, could feint swings, but could not feint the effects of gravity.
Serenity didn’t turn when Fanilly dove out of the way. She continued three steps onwards instead, three steps that would carry her out of the effective range of the Knight-Captain’s sword. Pivoted once more to face her foe. So that's what it was. A mobile sword style, emphasizing the reach that a two-handed sword could give, while adding in some acrobatic flair. It reminded her of certain schools of spearmanship developed by the Nem, who’d utilize the relevant length of the spear, alongside their natural agility, to strike with unorthodox, rising angles.
It reminded too, of Lucas.
“Two thrusts.” Just an observation.
Their positions were reset once more. But this time, Serenity did not charge. She simply walked.
Shield front-facing, sword hidden from view.
A calmer tempo, one to better respond to a mobility that could not handle a stalwart defense head-on.
There was something remarkably stubborn about someone who’d risk fracturing their hands upon a tree with such forceful punches. It was that sort of bravado that sent young men to their graves, the sort of silliness that would see people toss everything away for a beautiful, but empty, promise.
His other injuries weren’t even taken care of either. What was the point of adding on further injury?
…oh dear.
Was that how it was?
Esfir side-eyed Akeno, allowed the others to come to the obvious conclusion that nothing passively protective could be made out of what they were fundamentally turning into food. Lazash seemed to have some experience, but simply put, the armor that they made would be little better than rags if they didn’t have the privileges of tools and time. And while the information that the runt shared was useful, at the same time, she wasn’t wholly blind to how Lazash was quietly, casually, eating all the least edible parts of the Elwets’ body. Certainly, there was nothing to be done with scales mangled by teeth, nothing to be done with bones cracked to bits for the marrow inside. Wouldn’t even make for soup stock now.
It was intentional then, that when the Elwets cooked fully, the gamey stench of a violent death giving way to a pungent, hot aroma, Esfir divvied up the meat in a curious way.
Equal parts between herself, Grunthor, and Akeno. Less for Lazash, accounting for what she ate prior.
“We equally eat, until we form an idea of how much it takes to digest,” she said. “After that, gather up what useful stuff there is, and we’ll head to the caves to do our jobs.”
There were antlers to sharp, stones to be tested. Even those foul-smelling berries may have some promise. She would dry them out by the fire, maybe crush them into powder afterwards. Her nose was sharper than she last remembered, but predators’ senses were sharper still.
For now though?
“Enjoy your meal.”
She would eat.
@Kazemitsu@King Cosmos@Crusader Lord
His other injuries weren’t even taken care of either. What was the point of adding on further injury?
…oh dear.
Was that how it was?
Esfir side-eyed Akeno, allowed the others to come to the obvious conclusion that nothing passively protective could be made out of what they were fundamentally turning into food. Lazash seemed to have some experience, but simply put, the armor that they made would be little better than rags if they didn’t have the privileges of tools and time. And while the information that the runt shared was useful, at the same time, she wasn’t wholly blind to how Lazash was quietly, casually, eating all the least edible parts of the Elwets’ body. Certainly, there was nothing to be done with scales mangled by teeth, nothing to be done with bones cracked to bits for the marrow inside. Wouldn’t even make for soup stock now.
It was intentional then, that when the Elwets cooked fully, the gamey stench of a violent death giving way to a pungent, hot aroma, Esfir divvied up the meat in a curious way.
Equal parts between herself, Grunthor, and Akeno. Less for Lazash, accounting for what she ate prior.
“We equally eat, until we form an idea of how much it takes to digest,” she said. “After that, gather up what useful stuff there is, and we’ll head to the caves to do our jobs.”
There were antlers to sharp, stones to be tested. Even those foul-smelling berries may have some promise. She would dry them out by the fire, maybe crush them into powder afterwards. Her nose was sharper than she last remembered, but predators’ senses were sharper still.
For now though?
“Enjoy your meal.”
She would eat.
@Kazemitsu@King Cosmos@Crusader Lord
not unless there was a dojo somewhere around her that somehow knew traditional Okinawan karate.
//Night 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing
@OwO@AThousandCurses
At times, they dodged by a hair’s breath. At times, they struck the dirt then kept going.
And through it all, they both noticed.
These beams, despite being so bright, despite being of energy, had no heat.
But whether they would make anything of it was unknown, not as the distance closed and they put their plan into action. Shun once again as the distraction now, presenting the greatest target possible. Rin slipping into the shadow, her grip tight upon her spear.
The phone sailed through the air, rotating.
Time slowed, senses sharpening to a razor point.
And then, the light cut out.
A blur within the night, and Shun’s phone split in half. A moment later, she could feel that same premonition, her body bisected. Instinct drove her arms upwards, before a sharp impact rocked them. She was sent rolling into the grass, hot pain lancing up her forearms. They had been cut by something, blood oozing out from the clean slice through her flesh. Her unnatural hardiness had prevented her from losing her arms, but that didn’t change what was presented before her.
To call it a tail wasn’t appropriate. Its true nature was that of a five meter long blade, capable of cleanly cutting through metal.
The Long-Tailed remained where it was though, sinuous form content on guarding its packmates.
One was enough, for the other now…
Rin did not possess the physical speed that Shun had, but her mind was sharpened in its stead, time flowing at a slower pace. She could see through the dark, could see the forms of the monsters before her. Could see the light gather upon compound eyes, ten whole eyes clustered together in the grotesque manner that only nightmares could grow.
Distantly, she recognized that Shun’s advance had been thwarted, saw the trajectory of that blade-tail slice through the wind itself.
But what she saw more clearly was the flexing of muscles, the bundling of tendons. Two eyes, affixing upon her, recognizing her attempt at a flank.
She lunged with her spear, and yet the point struck air, her target leaping back and directing the ball of light towards her now. She had gotten her attention, and up close, she could see how it bubbled, volatile, then split, bursting like fireworks. Two dozen smaller beams, saturating the area she was in.
Like the flicker jabs of a professional boxer.
@baraquiel@Yankee@Vertigo@Cu Chulainn@Nakushita
It bubbled out between clenched teeth.
A thick rust, coating his mouth.
And yet, it felt so distant too.
…
Sasuke recognized, perhaps, that he had never broken a bone until now.
Asahi was beside him, hurling phones into the dark, a cacophony of different genres competing with the panicked cries of his classmates. Some of them were trying to rally together, Masami and Mayumi scrambling to get weapons into the hands of those fit enough to do something. Others were crying out in the dark, trying to locate and confirm the state of friends, family. He could hear Ayane shout something incoherent.
Could see the beast, the hulk-phant, treading upon blaring phones as sprinted towards him. Crushing memories underfoot, silencing songs at an afterthought.
“Go.”
His fist struck Asahi’s back. A paltry gesture, but meaningful nonetheless. He was strong, back home. Now, Asahi was strong, no matter what his friend felt.
“I’m with you.”
And Ayana too, was with them.
She was a disaster, really. She was actively shouting at the hulk-phant that she could hardly see but could definitely feel charging in her direction. She was practically provoking it, and wasn’t even doing so in a way that drew it away from Sasuke and Asahi. No, Ayana, with a fresh (but sorta messy haircut) and a set of clothes that didn’t smell like smoke, had charged forth with nothing but a jagged piece of metal that she wrenched from the frame of the bus and had then practically flung herself at the monster, thrusting forth.
Only she could see, this close, what had happened to her weapon.
It had crumpled against the skin of the monster, too fragile, too malleable, to withstand the duress upon both ends. And that just left Ayana hugging the front limb of a hulk-phant, her feet scrambling against the dirt but only able to slow its charge.
Slow its charge, and be blind to its head craning down, its jaw opening up.
About to tear her head off with a bite.
That was what Asahi could see, as the furnace within his body grew colder and colder, embers blown to black by the creeping fear. He was strong. He had to be strong. But these monsters…weren’t they all stronger?
They were.
Masato could feel it, the sheer animal strength of the monster before him. It was like being trapped in an arm-wrestling match, slowing feeling the burn in his muscles, slowly giving way to this creature that just had enough of a physical advantage to make him feel like he could overcome it if he had the right positioning.
But he was set. Both hands grasping upon the digits of the hulk-phant’s singular foot. He was stuck in the dirt, stuck in the grave he had dug for himself, stuck with great responsibility of a power that wasn’t great enough.
He was set.
And then, he wasn’t.
Of course.
His limbs had the strength to contest, but he was still just a Japanese middle schooler. He was shorter than his male peers. It was never a contest when it came to mass. And just as how Masato could grip the monster’s paw, the monster’s paw could grip him too. Digits squeezing against his arms, the frontal limb lifting him up.
His legs kicked against nothing.
And then, like that, Masato was slammed back into the earth, the air driven out of his body, his back thrust into the grave. Without his legs beneath him, without an upright posture, there was no way for him to resist it now, not with his arms alone.
No matter how much he burned, with anger, with indignation, it was not enough.
The weight of the hulk-phant’s foot was the weight of a world that would deny him his freedom for three more years, no matter what he did.
...
"Why me?"
Moonlight caught the sharpened tooth.
"Because you're like me."
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