Voltaire Member
- Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 519 (0.13 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Voltaire 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Everything is awesoooooome!
My thumbs hurt.
Ugh, my punctuation was kinda sloppy. Sorry, but I was writing this after my shift, I was tired.
Ugh, my punctuation was kinda sloppy. Sorry, but I was writing this after my shift, I was tired.
Blade growled with annoyance as one of the guards hefted a glaive. While not exactly ideal in such close quarters, the pole arm would pose a major problem while the sword and shield wielding guards kept Blade's attention. The argonian's first instinct was to charge the glaive user and eliminate him as quickly as possible, but the confines of the room meant the sword users could easily intercept and surround him, something they were trying to do at this very moment. Blade had to control the fight or he'd lose. Fortunately a strategy was already formulating. He'd been faced with odds like these regularly during his time at the Capital Arena.
Upon his entry he noted a depression in the eastern wall of the room. He couldn't tell exactly what it was from his angle, but it looked like it would work well as a funnel even if there was no exit, and he'd been heading that direction the entire time. But one of the sword wielding guards now partially blocked his path as they spread out. Eager to get to it, Blade took the offensive with a snarl.
He lunged and slashed at the guard blocking his planned route, but the buckler deflected the weapon easily. The Redguard simultaneously aimed a low cut at Blades abdomen which was parried by the second orcish sword and followed by a swift pommel strike to the head from the argonian's strong arm. The man had managed to avoid being knocked out by taking the brunt of the attack on his shield again. Still, he fell dazed to one knee with his shield still up to intercept more attacks.
Blade didn't get a chance to attack again however. A flurry of movement in the corner of his vision reminded him of the two other combatants and he dove over the kneeling guard before him, narrowly avoiding a killing thrust from the glaive. The argonian rolled to his feet swiftly and back pedaled before the skilled thrusts of the pole arm which forced him away from the hall. He was able to avoid or redirect most of the attacks, but an early strike had slashed his cheek while he had regained his balance. The glaive wielder continued to keep Blade occupied while the second sword user tended to his ally who shook stars from his vision and got to his feet.
The argonian was herded back into the middle of the common space and tripped backward over the low table the guards had been sitting at moments before. Without missing a beat, Blade used the momentum to roll himself across the boards and landed on the opposite side in time to see his opponent gear up for a powerful thrust to reach across the furniture. Blade reached down and with a burst of strength, hefted the edge of the table up so it was perpendicular with the floor. The blade of the glaive crunched through the boards, the tip passing quite a ways through and was properly jammed. In that instant, Blade jumped up and kicked the bottom of the table with both legs landing on his back with a thud while the weight of the table knocked the guard off balance and trapped his weapon beneath its hefty planks.
There was no time to relax though as the two other guards jumped back into the fray. Blade tucked his legs in to avoid a crippling slash from one scimitar and kicked out at the man, feet crashing against the shield and pushing him back before deflecting another sword with his own and slashing at the guards feet, forcing him to jump back and giving Blade time to get back on his own.
The third guard was struggling to free his weapon from the table's grasp while Blade parried the other two's attacks. The three fell into a steady rhythm of attacking and defending, like some kind of dance of death that had been choreographed before hand and was accompanied by the ear ringing clash of steel against steel.
Despite Blade's uncanny swiftness, and agility, which mostly due to the fact that he was used to wearing much heavier and restrictive armor, he steadily lost ground and both guards landed glancing hits on his arms and torso. Fortunately the chain mail held firm, for now, and the leather beneath absorbed some of the blunt force. But suddenly Blade felt the wall at his back and knew he had to turn things around.
He ducked a beheading blow from one of the scimitars which crashed into the stone wall and sent painful shocks through the guards arm, causing him to flinch and provide an opening. Blade deflected a slash from the other guard before viciously kicking the injured one in the leg. His heel crashed into the man's kneecap, snapping it backward against the ligaments and muscle holding it in place and causing him to scream in pain, completely dropping his defense to grasp desperately at his mutilated limb. A quick slash of orcish metal ended the man's suffering as it opened his skull, spattering blood across the floor as the arcing weapon flicked it away.
"NO! OBLIVION TAKE YOU WHORESON!"
The other Redguard yelled his defiance as he smashed his buckler into the argonian's face, opening a gash on his brow.
Blade grunted as his head whipped to the side painfully under the powerful blow and he scrambled blindly away as quickly as he could, knowing a scimitar would be hot on his heels. It was his turn to tell with agony when the Redguard weapon bit into the tip of his tail as it was swung about with fury, slicing off nearly a foot of the scaled appendage.
The argonian backed into the cell block and the Redguard chased after him swinging madly, having lost some of his earlier composure. By this time the third guard had managed to yank his glaive from beneath the table and rush to his remaining friend's assistance, just as determined to spill the argonian's blood. Yet again, Blade was forced to defend on two fronts, and even his considerable stamina had started to flag. But the pain in his tail had kindled some of his rage that he'd been carefully controlling throughout the fight, and the third guard could only thrust within hallway lest he hit his ally.
Blade felt a burst of energy course through him as his blood rage took hold and he slammed his weapons against his opponent's defenses.
"RAAAAAGGHH! COME ON THEN! KILL ME IF YOU CAN!"
He unleashed a torrent of slashes at the sword wielding guard who skillfully blocked the telegraphed attacks but fell back a step beneath the onslaught. Suddenly one of the orcish swords came from below instead of from above like he'd been expecting, and the tip slammed into the guard's gut, knocking the wind from him but not piercing the armor. Regardless, he doubled over from the force of the blow. His partner was ready to jump in and defend, but as his glaive was thrust forward, Blade dropped one of his weapons and grabbed the gasping Redguard, pulling him into the glaive as it passed and knocking it off course. The third guard's hand went to the dagger in his belt now that the argonian was inside his guard, but it was too late. Blade slashed him across the throat and he stumbled back, slumping against the wall with a shocked look on his face as he bled out.
The argonian immediately turned his attention to the guard he'd used as a shield who'd crashed against on of the cell doors but was getting to his feet. Blade stepped up behind him and pulled up the bottom hem of his chain mail shirt and slid his sword into the man's torso from below his ribcage, slicing into the vital organs within. The guard's breath caught as the cold steel entered his body and his nervous system exploded with agony. His eyes quickly clouded over and he slumped to the ground as blood pooled about him.
Blade yanked the weapon from the corpse and wiped it clean on the Redguard clothing before gathering his other sword and decided to borrow the glaive user's dagger as well. Now to find that Captain. Quickly frisked the guards but found nothing of use, namely keys. For the target had surely locked his doors by now. Knowing the answer, Blade ran to each door and gave an experimental pull and shove. The only door to open was in the common room and it only revealed the guard's quarters.
Blade could only assume that the Captain's quarters were on the second floor, but it would be asinine to try and cut through the well made doors. It was a gamble as to which one led upstairs, and even if he had a proper axe he'd be too tired to fight whatever might be waiting on the other side. He thought quickly about other options. The balcony. Yes, that was just close enough to the ground that he might be able to get in that way. He glanced at the table he'd used as a shield against the guards he'd fought and got another idea. He jogged over and planted his feet on the edge of two of the planks then grabbed the one in the middle. Then, with a heave he yanked the middle plank from the supporting one beneath that held the table top together. He quickly did the same to the other side. The freed plank was a good eight feet long and should serve his purposes nicely.
He carried the plank back outside and placed it against the wall at a rough forty-five degree angle then jogged several meters away. He winced as he prepared to make his climb, the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off the the sting from his injuries, his tail in particular, was making itself known. He shut it from his mind and sprinted towards the plank. He ran up the sturdy board with ease and stepped onto the wall, using his momentum to carry him up the last few feet and grasped the edge of the balcony.
The argonian clambered up and and stepped gently down from the parapet, his soft leather boots making no sound on the stone floor. If he was lucky, any attention would be focused on the inside doors after all the commotion that had come from the ground floor. He quietly made his way around the perimeter of the balcony and searched for an entrance, soon finding a shuttered window. Staying as low as possible, he ever so gently nudged one of the shutters open to see what lay waiting inside.
He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't just barge in like he had below. Maybe the reality of his mortality had set in after the close call with the guards. Though it had worked admirably, he decided he'd be damned before he ever left his plate armor and greatsword behind again.
Upon his entry he noted a depression in the eastern wall of the room. He couldn't tell exactly what it was from his angle, but it looked like it would work well as a funnel even if there was no exit, and he'd been heading that direction the entire time. But one of the sword wielding guards now partially blocked his path as they spread out. Eager to get to it, Blade took the offensive with a snarl.
He lunged and slashed at the guard blocking his planned route, but the buckler deflected the weapon easily. The Redguard simultaneously aimed a low cut at Blades abdomen which was parried by the second orcish sword and followed by a swift pommel strike to the head from the argonian's strong arm. The man had managed to avoid being knocked out by taking the brunt of the attack on his shield again. Still, he fell dazed to one knee with his shield still up to intercept more attacks.
Blade didn't get a chance to attack again however. A flurry of movement in the corner of his vision reminded him of the two other combatants and he dove over the kneeling guard before him, narrowly avoiding a killing thrust from the glaive. The argonian rolled to his feet swiftly and back pedaled before the skilled thrusts of the pole arm which forced him away from the hall. He was able to avoid or redirect most of the attacks, but an early strike had slashed his cheek while he had regained his balance. The glaive wielder continued to keep Blade occupied while the second sword user tended to his ally who shook stars from his vision and got to his feet.
The argonian was herded back into the middle of the common space and tripped backward over the low table the guards had been sitting at moments before. Without missing a beat, Blade used the momentum to roll himself across the boards and landed on the opposite side in time to see his opponent gear up for a powerful thrust to reach across the furniture. Blade reached down and with a burst of strength, hefted the edge of the table up so it was perpendicular with the floor. The blade of the glaive crunched through the boards, the tip passing quite a ways through and was properly jammed. In that instant, Blade jumped up and kicked the bottom of the table with both legs landing on his back with a thud while the weight of the table knocked the guard off balance and trapped his weapon beneath its hefty planks.
There was no time to relax though as the two other guards jumped back into the fray. Blade tucked his legs in to avoid a crippling slash from one scimitar and kicked out at the man, feet crashing against the shield and pushing him back before deflecting another sword with his own and slashing at the guards feet, forcing him to jump back and giving Blade time to get back on his own.
The third guard was struggling to free his weapon from the table's grasp while Blade parried the other two's attacks. The three fell into a steady rhythm of attacking and defending, like some kind of dance of death that had been choreographed before hand and was accompanied by the ear ringing clash of steel against steel.
Despite Blade's uncanny swiftness, and agility, which mostly due to the fact that he was used to wearing much heavier and restrictive armor, he steadily lost ground and both guards landed glancing hits on his arms and torso. Fortunately the chain mail held firm, for now, and the leather beneath absorbed some of the blunt force. But suddenly Blade felt the wall at his back and knew he had to turn things around.
He ducked a beheading blow from one of the scimitars which crashed into the stone wall and sent painful shocks through the guards arm, causing him to flinch and provide an opening. Blade deflected a slash from the other guard before viciously kicking the injured one in the leg. His heel crashed into the man's kneecap, snapping it backward against the ligaments and muscle holding it in place and causing him to scream in pain, completely dropping his defense to grasp desperately at his mutilated limb. A quick slash of orcish metal ended the man's suffering as it opened his skull, spattering blood across the floor as the arcing weapon flicked it away.
"NO! OBLIVION TAKE YOU WHORESON!"
The other Redguard yelled his defiance as he smashed his buckler into the argonian's face, opening a gash on his brow.
Blade grunted as his head whipped to the side painfully under the powerful blow and he scrambled blindly away as quickly as he could, knowing a scimitar would be hot on his heels. It was his turn to tell with agony when the Redguard weapon bit into the tip of his tail as it was swung about with fury, slicing off nearly a foot of the scaled appendage.
The argonian backed into the cell block and the Redguard chased after him swinging madly, having lost some of his earlier composure. By this time the third guard had managed to yank his glaive from beneath the table and rush to his remaining friend's assistance, just as determined to spill the argonian's blood. Yet again, Blade was forced to defend on two fronts, and even his considerable stamina had started to flag. But the pain in his tail had kindled some of his rage that he'd been carefully controlling throughout the fight, and the third guard could only thrust within hallway lest he hit his ally.
Blade felt a burst of energy course through him as his blood rage took hold and he slammed his weapons against his opponent's defenses.
"RAAAAAGGHH! COME ON THEN! KILL ME IF YOU CAN!"
He unleashed a torrent of slashes at the sword wielding guard who skillfully blocked the telegraphed attacks but fell back a step beneath the onslaught. Suddenly one of the orcish swords came from below instead of from above like he'd been expecting, and the tip slammed into the guard's gut, knocking the wind from him but not piercing the armor. Regardless, he doubled over from the force of the blow. His partner was ready to jump in and defend, but as his glaive was thrust forward, Blade dropped one of his weapons and grabbed the gasping Redguard, pulling him into the glaive as it passed and knocking it off course. The third guard's hand went to the dagger in his belt now that the argonian was inside his guard, but it was too late. Blade slashed him across the throat and he stumbled back, slumping against the wall with a shocked look on his face as he bled out.
The argonian immediately turned his attention to the guard he'd used as a shield who'd crashed against on of the cell doors but was getting to his feet. Blade stepped up behind him and pulled up the bottom hem of his chain mail shirt and slid his sword into the man's torso from below his ribcage, slicing into the vital organs within. The guard's breath caught as the cold steel entered his body and his nervous system exploded with agony. His eyes quickly clouded over and he slumped to the ground as blood pooled about him.
Blade yanked the weapon from the corpse and wiped it clean on the Redguard clothing before gathering his other sword and decided to borrow the glaive user's dagger as well. Now to find that Captain. Quickly frisked the guards but found nothing of use, namely keys. For the target had surely locked his doors by now. Knowing the answer, Blade ran to each door and gave an experimental pull and shove. The only door to open was in the common room and it only revealed the guard's quarters.
Blade could only assume that the Captain's quarters were on the second floor, but it would be asinine to try and cut through the well made doors. It was a gamble as to which one led upstairs, and even if he had a proper axe he'd be too tired to fight whatever might be waiting on the other side. He thought quickly about other options. The balcony. Yes, that was just close enough to the ground that he might be able to get in that way. He glanced at the table he'd used as a shield against the guards he'd fought and got another idea. He jogged over and planted his feet on the edge of two of the planks then grabbed the one in the middle. Then, with a heave he yanked the middle plank from the supporting one beneath that held the table top together. He quickly did the same to the other side. The freed plank was a good eight feet long and should serve his purposes nicely.
He carried the plank back outside and placed it against the wall at a rough forty-five degree angle then jogged several meters away. He winced as he prepared to make his climb, the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off the the sting from his injuries, his tail in particular, was making itself known. He shut it from his mind and sprinted towards the plank. He ran up the sturdy board with ease and stepped onto the wall, using his momentum to carry him up the last few feet and grasped the edge of the balcony.
The argonian clambered up and and stepped gently down from the parapet, his soft leather boots making no sound on the stone floor. If he was lucky, any attention would be focused on the inside doors after all the commotion that had come from the ground floor. He quietly made his way around the perimeter of the balcony and searched for an entrance, soon finding a shuttered window. Staying as low as possible, he ever so gently nudged one of the shutters open to see what lay waiting inside.
He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't just barge in like he had below. Maybe the reality of his mortality had set in after the close call with the guards. Though it had worked admirably, he decided he'd be damned before he ever left his plate armor and greatsword behind again.
It's on it's way!
Best. Video. Evar.
Gonna try and get a post up this morning.
Gonna try and get a post up this morning.
YO BITCHES!
Why are there no knock knock jokes for America?
...
CUZ FREEDOM RINGS MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
Why are there no knock knock jokes for America?
...
CUZ FREEDOM RINGS MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
Nyxella said
Hope it's as awesome as the movie.
It would be if I didn't have to work that night. Guess I'll just have to suck it up and get drunk on cheap beer while firing machine guns indiscriminately into the air during the day instead.
And hamburgers.
And there we go. I was debating whether or not to put some action in there as well, but decided I'll just leave you guys in suspense. :p
The cherry at the end of Mark's cigarette flared a bit in the shadow of the alley as he took a deep draw on the tobacco. The smoke wafted gently past his granite like features, and slicked back hair. He'd let his beard grow out too, and it was a offering a bit more than a five o'clock shadow at this point. The dark, monochromatic pattern of his scarred armor blended well with the shadows, and one more light would hardly be noticeable amidst all the neon and artificial lighting that was so prevalent these days. His eyes swept lazily across the street that the Cartagena Inn was located on as the minutes ticked by, discreetly observing those that made their way towards the building.
It was a mixture of surprise and extreme annoyance when he'd gotten the message from Tanya. She and Kosso hadn't seen fit to bring any of the old crew from the Tyrus along on their little vacation, and now all of a sudden they decide his services might be helpful? Who the fuck did they think they were? He hadn't bothered replying since receiving the message, and he had half a mind to just throw a grenade into the room out of spite.
Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't genuinely intrigued by what could possibly cause them to request him so casually. And it's not like he had anything better to do at the moment, what with the Council races cracking down on the Terminus systems with their new attack dog, and the big merc outfits hogging the few jobs that were left these days.
Mark was a damn sight better than any grunt the Blue Suns or Eclipse could loan out, but clients liked having insurance for failure, which is something the big groups could offer in a way a one man show couldn't. Blue Suns troops could be held accountable for failure. Mark (not that he'd fail in the first place, but still) could just disappear. Just one human with no one to answer to fading into the galaxy. Mark liked it that way, but clients didn't.
A commotion down the street drew his attention. Looked like a group of batarians felt like nabbing some cargo. They had to be the dumbest slavers to ever grace the four eyed species blood line. Or maybe they were just overly ambitious. Not only did they approach their prey from the direct front, but they picked the biggest, most heavily armored human in sight. After a brief verbal exchange the human threw a wide hook that any half competent fighter would see coming from a mile and have time to laugh at before promptly blocking. But, he knocked his new acquaintance to the ground and the other batarians backed off. After some theatrical intimidation the human went on his merry way and entered the Cartagena Inn, just a few doors down and across the street from Mark's location.
Sloppy. Mark thought, effective. But sloppy. Chances were good this was another merc that Tanya had contacted. No wonder they'd had the nerve to come calling like nothing had happened. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. No. That wasn't true. He knew exactly why, but he'd be damned before he ever admitted it.
More people entered the Inn over the next half hour or so than would be normal on another day, but most would look at home on any other station. A rather decrepit looking fellow with a cloak being the exception. He even had a krogan following with some bags. Didn't seem the mercenary type though.
Deciding that the meeting was legit and not some ploy by an old enemy to take him out (he wasn't sure which scenario was worse), Mark flicked his cigarette away and made to enter the inn himself. Still, he had his Mattock, Phalanx and knife locked securely to his back, thigh, and chest respectively. Could never be to careful. And having been living on Cartagena for a couple months and done a favor or two for a few of the higher ups in this backwater cesspool, he'd earned the privilege of walking about as such. Flaunt it if you got it as the saying went.
As he entered the conference room, some of its occupants were expected and others were a surprise. He noted Tanya and Kosso at one end of the table and made a point of picking a spot at the opposite end. He plopped himself into one of the chairs and put his feet up on the table, lighting a fresh cigarette as he went.
"Well well," Mark mumbled gruffly past the cig loud enough to be heard, "You guys actually showed up. I'll be honest, I was half expecting you to bitch out before the ball even got rolling. So color me impressed!" He laced his fingers behind his head, fully prepared to make this as difficult as possible for everybody involved. He gazed flatly at the two ex-Nova members.
"You can even take that as a compliment if you like."
It was a mixture of surprise and extreme annoyance when he'd gotten the message from Tanya. She and Kosso hadn't seen fit to bring any of the old crew from the Tyrus along on their little vacation, and now all of a sudden they decide his services might be helpful? Who the fuck did they think they were? He hadn't bothered replying since receiving the message, and he had half a mind to just throw a grenade into the room out of spite.
Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't genuinely intrigued by what could possibly cause them to request him so casually. And it's not like he had anything better to do at the moment, what with the Council races cracking down on the Terminus systems with their new attack dog, and the big merc outfits hogging the few jobs that were left these days.
Mark was a damn sight better than any grunt the Blue Suns or Eclipse could loan out, but clients liked having insurance for failure, which is something the big groups could offer in a way a one man show couldn't. Blue Suns troops could be held accountable for failure. Mark (not that he'd fail in the first place, but still) could just disappear. Just one human with no one to answer to fading into the galaxy. Mark liked it that way, but clients didn't.
A commotion down the street drew his attention. Looked like a group of batarians felt like nabbing some cargo. They had to be the dumbest slavers to ever grace the four eyed species blood line. Or maybe they were just overly ambitious. Not only did they approach their prey from the direct front, but they picked the biggest, most heavily armored human in sight. After a brief verbal exchange the human threw a wide hook that any half competent fighter would see coming from a mile and have time to laugh at before promptly blocking. But, he knocked his new acquaintance to the ground and the other batarians backed off. After some theatrical intimidation the human went on his merry way and entered the Cartagena Inn, just a few doors down and across the street from Mark's location.
Sloppy. Mark thought, effective. But sloppy. Chances were good this was another merc that Tanya had contacted. No wonder they'd had the nerve to come calling like nothing had happened. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. No. That wasn't true. He knew exactly why, but he'd be damned before he ever admitted it.
More people entered the Inn over the next half hour or so than would be normal on another day, but most would look at home on any other station. A rather decrepit looking fellow with a cloak being the exception. He even had a krogan following with some bags. Didn't seem the mercenary type though.
Deciding that the meeting was legit and not some ploy by an old enemy to take him out (he wasn't sure which scenario was worse), Mark flicked his cigarette away and made to enter the inn himself. Still, he had his Mattock, Phalanx and knife locked securely to his back, thigh, and chest respectively. Could never be to careful. And having been living on Cartagena for a couple months and done a favor or two for a few of the higher ups in this backwater cesspool, he'd earned the privilege of walking about as such. Flaunt it if you got it as the saying went.
As he entered the conference room, some of its occupants were expected and others were a surprise. He noted Tanya and Kosso at one end of the table and made a point of picking a spot at the opposite end. He plopped himself into one of the chairs and put his feet up on the table, lighting a fresh cigarette as he went.
"Well well," Mark mumbled gruffly past the cig loud enough to be heard, "You guys actually showed up. I'll be honest, I was half expecting you to bitch out before the ball even got rolling. So color me impressed!" He laced his fingers behind his head, fully prepared to make this as difficult as possible for everybody involved. He gazed flatly at the two ex-Nova members.
"You can even take that as a compliment if you like."
One post in and things are already gonna be blowing up? This is my kinda Rp.
GASP! I just realized my sig is broken. :(
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand fixd.
GASP! I just realized my sig is broken. :(
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand fixd.
© 2007-2024