GreenGoat

The Crucible - Winner Take All

His sword glinted as it passed mere inches away from her stomach, as another barely missed her throat.

He certainly wasn't about to give up, of that she was sure. But what was strange was the way he fought; it was as if he had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. As if he was throwing himself into battle without regards to his own life, like one who believed himself immortal, or had a deathwish. It made attacking him that much more harder, for she was loathe to kill anyone, and it didn't seem like he'd stop swinging if he had a broken jaw. Trying to materialize something one armed didn't seem like a good idea with a mad spinning dervish was hellbent on slicing her to ribbons.

However, she was not simply dodging his blows idly; Juniper's eyes was constantly observing him, the way he moved, how he swung the swords.

Without warning, her back hit a shelf as she dodged away, leaving her still within range of Westley's next attack.

"I've got you now, human!"

"Tch!"

Juniper did not manage to quite dodge his swings; one of his sword entered her stomach, but the one heading for her face was deflected neatly, by flicking the top of her wrist on the flat to drive the blade away, before she continued the motion and brought her palm straight down into his solar plexus. Taking advantage of the brief flash of surprise, she burst some of the God Hand's excess energy, and slammed her head as hard as she could on his face, knocking the Crimson Cavalier out cold.

"It seems... that I got ahead of you, Cavalier." She laughed dryly at her own joke as she pulled out the sword in her stomach.

Pathetic.

It was all she could think of as she collapsed from the pain, dry heaving on the ground. It was pathetic how low she had fallen. To be so complacent that she failed to take in her surrounding, that she had even for a moment underestimated the elf. For a brief moment, a thought flashed in her head, reminding her that she had only one arm, and many of her techniques required her to have two.

But was that really true, or was it just some weak excuse to justify her falling behind on her training?

In any case, she needed to stop the bleeding. Appropriating the shirt the elf wore, she tore it to strips, and started bandaging herself. Juniper needed more than just that, but it would do for now.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Ill wait for at least one more post before i post again i think.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

That anon was certainly not giving up.

Was this its territory? Was it simply going after her to avoid being called weak or cowardly? What ever it was, it wasn't averse to wasting its bullet, shooting at everything that looked suspicious. Her opponent had gone silent, no more was the incessant beeping and harsh noise of the laser firing rapidly. Juniper wasn't sure if that meant he was biding his time or that he was defeated. There was that announcer fellow, that robot that had suddenly announced their fight; she was sure it would announce his defeat if it was so.

Juniper took a deep breath and held it as the anon walked cautiously about one row over, apparently oblivious to her hiding place, but still very much aware of his surrounding. Having already used the backtracking trick on Westley, she had already bandaged up her bleeding arm with some cloth from her left sleeve.

She could simply unleash the full power of the God Hand, but considering how long she had been complacent when she had both God Hands, Juniper was likely able to unleash its full power but for a short time. As of now, she'd wager she'd have about ten seconds of full power. Of course there was the matter of using some of the excess energy from the God Hand that could not be suppressed, but those will likely last even shorter; it was likely she would be able to pull off just one technique using it.

As she worried about her situation, she caught a glance of Westley, hiding just one row away — or around ten metres awar from her — from the anon, opposite of her. He too had caught a glance of her, considering his smirk when she looked at him. It would seem both of them didn't take to well to the gun toting anon shooting at both of them. Still wearing that smirk, he pointed towards the unsuspecting anon, before making a circular gesture with his index finger. Without even waiting for her to acknowledge the gesture he jumped out.

"Face me, creature! Face the Crimson Cavalier!"

The anon whipped its head around, turning the gun towards the half elf.

Without thinking, Juniper sent the staff she picked up spinning towards the back of its head. There was an audible crack as it smashed into the back of the anon's head, sending it reeling over unconscious. It wasn't until a moment later before she realized the elf was clapping slowly.

"HAH! I didn't think you would carry through." He stepped forwards from behind the shelf. "Perhaps not all humans are the base creatures I thought they were. Or perhaps you are willing to do so because you think you have an advantage over me, seeing as you stole one of my staves."

"I was simply getting rid of the bigger threat." Juniper followed suit, walking over to the unconscious anon and picking up the staff. "I can deal with a gun alone, but not with a warrior such as you hounding my back."

WIth that, she threw the staff back at the Cavalier, who caught it with a wry grin on his face. Shrugging as he saw her going into a battle stance, he simply hung it back on its strap and picked out another staff.

"Interesting. Again, I am the Crimson Cavalier! There will be no one to save you from death now, human."

"Juniper." She focused on the elf, relaxing her muscles as she controlled her breathing. "The God Hand. Let us have a proper duel this time."

None of them moved, Juniper's focusing on the elf, and the elf simply smirking back as he stood confidently before her. The silence hung heavily around them, with only the occasional sound from the unconscious anon breaking the silence. As if by some signal only the duelists can see, both of them acted simultaneusly, with the elf whipping up his staff, as Juniper simply dashed head on towards him.

"SUMM-"

"TOO SLOW!"

The elf tried to summon a minion, counting on the distance between them to allow him time. However, even before she gained the God Hands, she was capable of performing extraordinary feats through her martial arts training and strength of mind. With even one of the God Hands, a simple distance like that could be closed in the breadth of a second, leaving him without time to cast anything. Her hand smashed straight at his abdomen, before ripping off the straps that held his staves together. Almost immediately she launched a series of kicks and jabs at the elf, trying knock him out quickly. Without experience in hand to hand combat, he could only try to escape or buy enough time from her blows to cast something.

With all his efforts to create distance in vain, he pulled out his swords instead, swinging them violently around with wide swathes, forcing her to retreat. Unable to cast without retaliation, he turned to simple weapons, relying on the fact that she was unarmored, unarmed and one-armed. With a wide thankfully shallow gash on her stomach, she once again took up a stance, as both she and the elf stared at each other, trying to find the one chink in each other's defenses.

Fate/Empty Providence

Hmm. Not sure if theres anything else i should write for the night. It will probably be just an affirmation of what Rider said, and just some tooling around before going to sleep until the next day.

Heroes of Yore

Annabelle Goldsmith

"HOLD!"

Those creatures crashed into their shield wall again, as they desperately stabbed at the things from behind their shields.

The gatehouse, a small one leading into one of the inner partitions of the walls, was relatively out of the way and obscure, but still many of those monsters chanced upon it, whether lured by fleeing refuges or attracted to the sound of fighting. With some unfortunates still trying trickling in from hot zones in the city, and the local soldiers guarding the gate thinning in numbers, her group had decided to stay and fight, keeping the gate open and defended for as long as they could.

Annabelle and those without large shields stood behind the shieldwall, taking down any that made it through.

Even if they were killing a lot of the creatures, it was not without heavy losses on their side. The soldiers was tired, and the group of mercenaries, though motivated and relentless, were not true warriors by any stretch of the word. They were widowers, old men who lost their families, or maybe even just a teacher who watched her entire class ripped apart by those creatures. They were all men and women who lost something to the monsters; a ragtag band of normal people who had nothing left to live for, and more than enough reason to fight.

Once again, she was helpless to prevent their slaughter as the sheer number of those monsters overwhelmed them.

She did not stop fighting however; the gatehouse was still standing, and she was still alive. It was not altruism, or some sort of belief that she must keep them from entering the inner parts of the city, or even any sort of honor that kept her fighting there. There was no fool that dared hold a gatehouse against such numbers alone after all.

Annabelle stayed there and fought, because she had to.

It would be a disgrace to the fallen if she was to simply give up and run. It would also be futile to try and run, especially when she was alone. Any single one of those monsters could cut her down before she could turn and run. As long as one of them was still standing, their mission would be done. Was that not the motto of their mercenary group? Then, for as long as she still lived, not one of those monsters would pass.

The May rain falls, and is it my tears or the mist that surround me?

Her breathing was growing ragged, as she retreated slowly towards the gatehouse, seeking a narrower space to fight in. Her cheap armor was already broken, having taken numerous strikes meant for her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep swinging her arms. Monster after monster lunged at her, trying to find an opening, but each time she beat them back, until finally her sword broke. Almost instantaneously, the monsters that sensed she was helpless charged as one at her.

Hototogisu, take my name and soar above the clouds.

She blinked.

No longer was she on the stone path, no longer was the gatehouse, no longer was the monsters. Instead, she was in a burning castle, wooden floor strewn with Japanese swords, each one unique. Where the monsters were, there was now soldiers, grim faced men wielding ancient weapons. There was a moment of hesitation, before she grabbed one of the swords. A fight was a fight after all, especially if her life was in danger.

"Take my name brave one. Show them the strength of a human's will."

With a scream, she dashed towards her enemy, as the vision of the burning castle disappeared. The katana she held however, did not disappear, but instead seemed to grow more solid. Her grip on the sword switched, as knowledge from a long gone hero flooded into her mind. Changing her movements, she sliced across one of the monsters, sending it reeling back with a large gash across its body.

There was no time for her to be amazed, no time to wonder about the Japanese armor that now enclosed her form, or a long gone hero's memories pouring inside her.

With sword in hand, she started swinging again with more vigor.

Boundary's Edge -- An Urban Fantasy RP

"Hey wait!" Yagra scratched her head as that girl just rushed on ahead. "Geez, you're going to get hurt rushing ahead like that y'know?"

This wasn't going to end well, she could just feel it. Some way or another, that stubbornness and rashness was going punish not only that girl, but the entire group. At least the others were more level headed; even that coward from last night was calmer and more rational. There was danger of course, but it made no sense to just rush in and get themselves in trouble. It would do no one good if they get themselves killed here after all.

"Well, its like the okami said. This would be faster if we knew where she was last seen."

Yagra sighed, and popped open her gourd. Noticing the boy from last night, she offered some of her sake to him.

"Here, uh, what was your name again?" She started walking down the stairs, keeping close to the only human in the group. "It will take the edge off, I think. It always helped for me. Well, I must commend you for being braver than last night. You were so scared I was afraid you were going to piss your pants!"

Yagra laughed loudly at her own joke.

"Don't you worry. I'll be here to protect you! Who knows, you might even pick up something."

Heroes of Yore

Ill have a post up when I can.

Boundary's Edge -- An Urban Fantasy RP

Ill have a post up by today. Gonna be out for most of the day.

Collusion

Helja Petrova

---

It was bright and sunny.

A perfect day for fishing — not that she had any real liking for fishing mind you — and a fine day to spend with her father. Lovik was hardly ever home, claiming his business and work kept him very busy, but what little time he had was spent with her, his only child. Time that was precious to Helja. For as long as she could remember, anything she had ever wanted would be handed to her on a silver platter, but always, simply spending time with her father was the most enjoyable, certainly something she could not just ask for with his busy schedule.

She took a deep breath as they approached the dock, taking in the scent of the forest.

A private lodge, surrounded by a lush forest, and a large lake. Just father and daughter, spending quality time fishing for the day. What servants they had was sent away for the week; indeed there would be little room for them in the small lodge. There should be no one else here save for them.

So then why was it that she could hear car engines reverberating through the forest?

Her father, Lovik, was a tall man, strong and gentle, with ever a way for words. She had never seen him act in anger, nor had she ever seen him wear that expression as the cars rolled in, and the men jumped out. She had never seen him move that fast, closing a distance of about ten metres with what seemed like a step. She had never seen a fishing rod used that way, or did she knew it could ever be as lethal as her father wielded it.

Helja stepped forwards, her mouth open to ask a question, before everything went black.

***

"-ong time now, Lovik. Or should I say, Loptr?"

Helja opened her eyes, feeling like there was a lump on the back of her head. With a start she realized she was tied up beside her father. It was an odd scene that had burned itself into her memory; the imposing man looking very pleased with himself, that one fellow in the back looking inside a teapot and that blatantly absurd accusations they were now listing as her father's crime.

"Who dares to level such slander upon my father?" She spoke, barely contained anger in her voice. "Who are you to trespass on private grounds and assault me and my father?"

Surprise passed through the imposing man's features for a moment, before that smug grin returned to his face.

"The Consortium. Don't play dumb. You know perfectly well why we're here. You and your father won't be able to trick your way out of this one."

His continuance of his significantly smugger speech and her father's calm reassuring words to her faded into the background as white started to fill up her mind. There was no doubt of their innocence in her mind, after all, the most she had ever did was lose her temper over some incompetent servant. Her father was certainly not a man that would do any of the thing they were listing off. What sort of incompetent fools did the Consortium send?

Helja did no more than to try to stand up, angry and indignant, before she fell flat to her face. An inhuman howl pierced the air as she realized only her right arm was the only limb attached to her body. There was no pain, only shock and confusion. The screaming and cursing melded together, as did the blur of movements and flailing of limbs in her vision. She was bleeding out, of that she was sure, but she can't help thinking that the fishing trip this afternoon wouldn't be too successful if the fishes were all frightened away by that accursed howling.

***
Six months after
***

It felt like a cold black void.

That was what she would have described death as. A cold black wet void, filled with nothing, so oppressive it felt as if you were drowning, your breath stuck as if you were trying to breath through thick viscous liquid.

In fact, it was getting to be rather painful right about now.

With a gasp, Helja raised her head up from the puddle of water coughing loudly. With her eyes still adjusting, she could barely make out the room she was in. Not that she was in any condition to be calmly observing anything. She started retching, a reflex brought on by her time face down in a puddle of what was hopefully water and just water. It would be rather humiliating to be choking on a puddle of someone's urine after all.

"Where... ."

Not a room but a large warehouse, lit only by the moon. An old, perhaps abandoned, building judging from the forklift lying there like the carcass of an old beast. Old boxes seemed to fill the space around her, as well as what seemed to be bodies.

Dead bodies.

She would have started screaming if her throat didn't feel so incredibly dry. Dead bodies, the ranks of which she should have joined. But, Helja was still alive, with all her limbs still attached. Even her clothes have been replaced; she was wearing simple sneakers, loose fitting jeans and a dark hoodie now. What sort of maniacs did the Consortium hire?

But how?

How did she live? The creeping feeling that she might not be truly alive was forgotten briefly as she saw movement from the corner of her eyes. Another woman, perhaps wrongly accused, and rescued from the brink of death as well. Helja moved to stand up, to walk over and start asking questions. Instead, she found her legs unwilling to support her, and collapsed face first into the puddle again.

Deja vu.

For a brief moment, anger flared up within her again, as the memories flooded into her mind. Shaking her head, Helja focused on her current predicament. She was still alive, though god knows how long she had been unconscious, but her limbs wasn't moving the way she wanted it to. Perhaps it was a side effect from being wounded, or from still being groggy after awakening. Unwilling to stay in the puddle — or anywhere near the bodies for that matter — she dragged herself up on the forklift to a standing position, waiting for her current bout of weakness to fade before trying to do anything else.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

She pressed her back against one of the shelves there, trying to control her breathing.

One of those old guns, plus what seemed to be a magician. Not opponents she'd enjoy fighting, and certainly not together at the same time. Juniper calmed herself, trying to think of a good plan. She was still bleeding from the previous horde of anons; it was not serious enough to be life threatening, but it was not stopping for a while yet. And if she was bleeding, she would be leaving a trail of blood to where she was hiding.

Meanwhile, the Crimson Cavalier was tracking down his opponent, smirking as he followed the trail of blood through the library. The foolish human, thinking she can escape him just like that. His smirk grew wider as he realized the blood spatters on the floor was getting more tightly grouped. That meant she had stopped running and started walking. That means that human was close. With a grin, he dashed towards the end of the trail, drawing out his dual swords for that finishing blow. A quick death and a quick victory awaits him. But... .

The blood trail ended there.

His eyes widened as he realized there was twice as many blood spatters in this row, that means...

Westley the Crimson Cavalier turned, reaching for one of his staves on his back, but it was too late. The blood trail was a trap, a simple one where she had walked there before backtracking on the trail itself before hiding herself. With great speed she slammed her palm into his sternum, sending one of his staves clattering away as he collapsed on the floor. Both of them had barely enough time to do more, before shots rang out in the library, tearing through books and shelves as they scrambled for cover.

Annoyed by the persistent creature and the fact he was duped into a trap, Westley summoned up a flying object to shoot back towards the anon, exchanging fire with great ferocity. Juniper on the other hand, had grabbed the fallen staff while crawling away. Let them fight amongst themselves for now. She had no intention of fighting something without a good plan.