21/5/19 ~Travis walks into Monroe pyr Docro, whom he had recognized from one of Alexi's battles against Torgon~ [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "Hey." [18:59] Blair says, "........" [18:59] Monroe currently has her hand around Blair's collar. Her head is angled sharply upon Travis, however, and just as riving is her gaze. (Monroe pyr Docro) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "Hey, Shiffty." [18:59] Shiffty says, "Ey, Cousin." [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro asks, "How's it goin', cousin?" [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "Yeah..." [18:59] A masked rifleman would, step by step, approach Monroe and Blaire. Staggering in his steps, a light energy of occult would fly off the figure's form. Hands gripping a drawn rifle, from the foregrip to the stock, claw marks and writing would scribe into the wooden flesh, muzzle sharpened. It wasn't a gun anymore, truly just a killing tool. The figure would get in a sort of kneeling position to better absorb kickback, a shooting stance, and aim the rifle directly towards the teenager. "Docro." would be all that the figure would state before the ground behind the two youths would ravage the ground, shooting up shrapnel of blood. After this 'distraction', the figure would rise, continuing the take steps forward, as he came more and more into focus, Achyon standard-issue armor would come into sight. It would seem this fellow, whoever he was, had either killed or was an Achyonite prior to...something A butterfly, drawn in blood, would rest atop the symbol of it's helmet, which would now be in full sight as a wave of energy would have kicked back the very direction of the trees behind the figure. (Travis "Wolf" Hoffman) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Despite Monroe's hand around their collar, Blair's gaze had traversed towards the stranger which approached. And they were absolutely scrum crawling quiet except for the muted whispers and hushed words which came from their lips. Yellow eyes trailed the being, and the smell of the occult was nigh high with them, just as Blair had said. And then they made a tragically horrific mistake. They pointed a gun towards Monroe; Blair's instincts kicked in, in that moment. Wisps of azure energy flaked around the Rhoynish, nostrils flaring as their head reared back. They ripped themselves from Monroe, whether or not she wanted them to. In this particular juncture? It didn't matter what she wanted. The swords at either side of Blair's hips were fell upon with their hands, the Rhoynish teen kicking forward near instantly with a flash of silver in their wake. The katana and rapier both had been drawn, and now Travis had to contend with a storm of blades and a very, very pissed off Rhoynish. Their form fell in front of Monroe. And their stance was a constantly shifting thing; aggressive one moment and then defensive the next. Blair was meant to leave a person guessing, after all. They bounced from one foot to the next, teeth grit. "******* retard." Blair's comeback was a trifle too late, but it held just as much weight. (Blair) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Shiffty's gaze passed back and forth from Monroe to Blair and back and they whispered amongst themselves. At some point the rat would finally spare a look to Travis and examine his outerwear. Definitely seemed like something shady. All the while, Shiffty kept a weak smile, though it was flawed with what seemed to be confusion or curiosity. Scarlet eyes lit up as the man began to move. Just what is it that he could have been doing? "Oh~!" he seemed to be pointing a gun at his cousin and child of the Don. Well there were many many mistakes he made in this moment. One wouldn't get away so simply with pointing a gun at someone with such familial ties or connections, truly. If it was Blair, Shiffty or Monroe herself then someone with the family was sure to introduce him to a terrible fate. Why would anyone go down such a foolishly reckless route? Shiffty could only shake his head in disappointment, unable to understand why someone would throw their life away like this. He gives a pat to Monroe's shoulder and a shrug. "Some people..." he would lightly gesture for them to move out of the path of battle, but he would ultimately let her make her own decisions. Niffty however, chose not to stand in the way of Travis and Blair. He was exceedingly fragile and didn't need any stray attacks wounding him. (Shiffty) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] It takes nary a second for Monroe to react in kind. The hilt of her blade fits into slender, gloved fingers, and with a scream of metal against the trammels of her sheath, its honed edge is withdrawn in full and rigidly focuses its -- ohp, there goes Blair. Nevertheless, she'd follow suit, primed at the young Rhoynish boy's side, and awaiting further advance upon either of them. "Don't think this is a gamble you wanna take, pal!" She growls. While Blair occupies himself with a forthright and snappy advance, Monroe opts instead to linger in sidelong suspension, until their bout has been fully realized, in some way or another. (Monroe pyr Docro) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] The hunter would move in, attempting to slide past the swordsman to get a shot on his target. (Travis "Wolf" Hoffman) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Blair amakakerus Travis. (Blair) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Blair says, ".... Going out in battle is the most glorious way, Monroe. It's fine! Assening him." [18:59] Bob and weave, and in out, Blair was all over the place as he would dance about the battlefield, but it takes two to tango. Sprinting and jumping about the sands would be a ball of chaos moving fast enough it was hard to know when the assassin himself was going in or out of the field, in and out of range, blasts would come from afar, take Blair from surprise, and when things got nasty, blue streaks of energy would come from the claws of the magi, slashing into Blair's clothes. "I've lost so many, too many, to that girl's bloodline for you to get in my way." In what seemed to be some sort of mockery, Wolf would loosen the grip on his weapon, now only pointing a finger gun at the Rhoynur. In a sort of standoff, Wolf would wait for the teen's next move, and the second he saw an inch, he would make a mockery of recoil using his fingers and simply whisper "Bang" A ball of gas would come about from behind Blair, pushing him infront of the explosive individual, time would almost be in slow motion as the hunter would now have their rifle in their arms, stabbing Blair's shoulder like the sharpened muzzle was a Bayonet. BANG! a piece of Tyrium, etched in runes, would no longer withstand the pressure within the rifle and shoot into the magi's flesh, rendering his left arm useless, and from the force of the rifle's pure energy, pushed onto the ground, slamming his head and reliving him of the horrid pains he felt within that brief moment. Taking two deep breaths, the rifleman would look at his hands as blood would pour down the masks' nostril holes, and onto his hand. Blair was a young fighter, that is what kept Wolf's victory secure, he saw no pride in what he had done, this wasn't the target. Placing a foot on Blair's torso, Wolf would tightly hold the handle and forestock on his rifle to point towards Monroe. "Surrender yourself, or I kill the boy." It was a booming command. The ground about Wolf would begin to pop as smaller and larger explosions would kick the sands upwards, he didn't need his gun to finish the job. (repost) (Travis "Wolf" Hoffman) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] "And you think my clan hasn't lost people?" Blair's retort was razor sharp, as was the dual swords they wielded in either hand. It was a proverbial onslaught of metal, slashing through Travis' defenses with ease even as the claws of the magi ripped through their clothes. "That people didn't take advantage of my people's loss and do ****** up things to them? One thing I do know is you--" Lamproie bit into Travis' flesh drawing blood across the sand of the beach even as Blair took their own injuries. But nothing would stop them. Sans defeat. Sans death. "Do NOT mess with the children!" Lamproie and the katana Annete had created for them was pulled skyward, before it was cleaved downwards into the sand itself, and that was when that ball of explosive gas fired behind them, as Travis' rifle stapped into their left arm. They nearly dropped a sword, and the grunt of pain was obvious. Their right hand was swift, picking up the excess blade as well as sheathing it before the man's foot was placed on their torso. Even with the threat of death looming just because they had stepped in the way to prevent Monroe from being injured? They didn't seem worried. ".... Going out in battle is the most glorious way, Monroe. It's fine! Assening him." She'd know what they meant. (Blair) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] The pinpricks of her pupils flit and dart along the maneuvers they exchange betwixt them, scrutinizing with rigid severity, and mounting fermentation; an acrid singe broils deep within the ashy-maned girl, and provokes an upset to the customarily evened rhythm of her breath. Leather gloves groan in tandem with the tightening pressure that sinks into the contours of her blade's hilt. "What are you doing." Blair is- dispatched, and effectively downed in a bed of silt and sand, and as her olive-sheened irises receive a full panorama of the scenery, they practically smolder with an unbridled smarting of color. "You son of a bitch, I'll--" … a boot digs into the powdered texture, kicking up a spate of dust in her charge toward Travis' head direct. Within her throat and through grit teeth, a snarl rips into sonance, and with it, a blistering saturation of uncurbed force spurns the earth, stimulating the raw impetus she employs into a flourishing swing of silver. (Monroe pyr Docro) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] "I'm surprised you care so much for your lap-dog, from everything I've seen of your kin you can always get another, and, mind you I wouldn't have...striked had I not seen you with that bloodsucker, Alexi." With an explosive kick, Blair would be sent rolling to the side of the ocean,sea-salt on a wound. "I know the game you play, and even when young, ripe, weak, your heritage inherits control over Achyon, my city and under that family line you'll be happy to sacrifice any you need to keep that power~" He'd turn to face the kicked Blair. "He's only useful until it's /his/ blood on your carpet, and, within your own circles, fine...However, the people of Achyon are not to be toyed with and used as...collateral." A raving lunatic to all but himself, and as he racked the slide to his mana-rifle, he was ready to secure the kill he scored. (Travis "Wolf" Hoffman) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Tara looks on from across the beach, brow raised curiously at the exchange. A few puffs of smoke sail into the air from the bowl of her bedazzled peace-pipe, brow furrowed thoughtfully. (Tara Tuffam) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Trik is simply standing to the side, gnawing on a chunk of blue mercury. (Trik Gutterrunner) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner exclaims, "Damn man-things. So disrespectful-rude!" [18:59] {Lost Aggressive RPB against Monroe pyr Docro} [18:59] ** Monroe pyr Docro has inflicted an injury upon Travis "Wolf" Hoffman. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "") ** [18:59] "Don't you DARE call him a dog, you sniveling bastard." Even through the push upon his person and the adrenaline that burns like a wick through Monroe's very veins, she can, at the very least, manage a huff of a retort. The keen edge of her weapon barely scratches mark as he darts from her track, yet she is persistent, and her form is telling of days of toil, refinement, and disciplinary ventures. Hence, she recuperates quickly enough, and another lunge fractures the distance they share. "Had it not been for my family, the Empire's-" A graze tears at the black pall enshrouding him. "--hold never would've lasted as long as it did on Esshar." Her verbiage cannot carry for as long as she would like; the breath she has must be savored and spared for her forward assault, twined by the fire and flame orchestrated by Travis' command. And throughout, her stare - if it can be called that - is utterly torrid. There is an anger beyond the bounds of normalcy sweltering beneath the emerald pools encompassing the crosshairs of her pupils, set dead on the mask that had made its incursion into her personal territory. There'd be no reprieve for either two, dogged as Travis was in his pursuit for the young Docro's head, and irate as Monroe was in face of such a brazen endeavor. They were both at the end of their tether, though Monroe is a tad tight on the reel of her uptake, and a conclusive sequence of sprints leveled to a win-or-bust disposition have the margins of her sword connect a constant stream of rends into his chest, iterating a corporeal signature of ire prior to a resolved bash of her boot into his side that sends him careening. Monroe's chest heaves. She pivots, paving a path toward Blair, and at its end does she lean to carefully grasp at the felled boy's collar, tugging him into a half-drag toward elsewhere. (Monroe pyr Docro) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Clap. Clap. Clap. Off on the side, stands what could be described as a humanoid man. An incredibly short, old, bastard of a Razuka, wearing a garishly colorful shirt and barely standing at a height that could be considered such. But most importantly, he seemed irate. Angry, even. A long deserved retirement, of chewing on toxic rocks and fabricating horrors unknown and then dumping them off to a boat to an unknown swamp, now interrupted by brawling outside his hole. First someone burned down the bar he used to visit, and now this? "What the ****-**** is going on? Why are man-things fighting outside of TRIK GUTTERRUNNER, GREATEST-BEST SHAPE-MOLDER, personal resort? Can Trik not get some sleep-rest?" A blue rock was pulled from his grungy pocket, held up and gnawed on by the deranged Razuka, "Tsk, Esshar-land gone downhill since Walter-lord and Anira-wife left for Barsburg-city." (Trik Gutterrunner) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "..." [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "..." [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "...go take your bedtime meds, Trik..." [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "Sunlight's making you cranky..." [18:59] Benedict Delisle asks, "Would you like an alkaseltzer?" [18:59] Monroe was wordless, having been kicked to the side of the beach where the sea gently lapped at the shore. Saltwater got into all of their wounds, and forced it to sting that much worse. They were dizzy. Something wasn't right after their fight with Travis, and their gaze was unfocused. They briefly heard Monroe's voice - her battle, but nothing else. It was only as they were forcibly plucked up by the back of their collar, limp within the Docro's hold did their eyes truly focus on her. The only thing Blair had been concerned about was Monroe's safety. After all, Ilya had precisely warned them. If she was harmed while in their presence, he'd kill them. But she was fine. She was fine. Blair's left arm hurt or perhaps they couldn't even feel it. It hung limply at their side, and the Rhoynish for once didn't fight against Monroe's control. (Blair) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner exclaims, "!" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "This is the thank-gratitude Trik get? INVENTOR-MAKER OF...." [18:59] Trik rapidly pulls out some strange confetti, tossing it in the air. Closer inspection revelas it to be colorful, translucent organelles of alien make. (Trik Gutterrunner) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner exclaims, "NECRORATCY!" [18:59] Monroe pyr Docro says, "...Tcha." [18:59] Benedict Delisle asks, "Yeah, but have you made a giant robot?" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner asks, "Why the ****-**** would Trik do that?" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner exclaims, "Trik made GIANT-HUGE RAZUKA-KIN!" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "Except all ran-fled away. Tsk." [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "Something-something about Trik being too cruel-mean. Too many stab-jabs with dangerous chemicals. Too many beatings with whip-rods." [18:59] Blair was briefly triggered with the mention of whip-rods. (Blair) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Blair says, "Nnnn...." [18:59] Benedict Delisle asks, "Have you considered a giant razuka fighting a giant robot?" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "What if... giant robot-machine...." [18:59] Trik quickly gnaws on his magicla rock of space and time. (Trik Gutterrunner) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner exclaims, "BUT ALSO GIANT-HUGE RAZUKA-KIN!" [18:59] Benedict Delisle says, "Mech-rat." [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "****-****, TRIK IS SO SMART-GENIUS. SEND LETTER-MESSAGE TO WALTER-LORD FOR MORE COIN-MONIES." [18:59] Benedict Delisle exclaims, "...hey, that was half my idea!" [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "Yes-yes, except Trik is master and man-thing student-learner." [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "By Barsburg-capital rule-laws... Trik idea." [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "Yes-yes." [18:59] Benedict Delisle says, "That's just rude." [18:59] Trik Gutterrunner says, "Cry-whine to Walter-lord. Make-make rules, not Trik." [18:59] The Ookami would be struck down by Monroe's attacks, strike after strike the damage taken would be too much to go on with his task, but the constant reminder his plans were not only against the 'docro coup' within the mind of the maniac, it was a horrendous cycle of creating a bigger and bigger lie to live, but be so close to the truth. He knew nothing of a crime family, all he knew were, the Docros downed his commander, whom had mentioned something of Alexi and the vampires, he knew nothing of the true horrors of corruption in his state, all he knew his that one streak of bad apples was responsible for a single attack, and perhaps he would have been so better off if he worked in the hand, and kept those thoughts at mind. "No...you can be a good leader without being a killer, but all Achyon's hand ever raised~*cough*" blood would begin to pour out of his mask, the strain truly was causing havok in the depths of his mind. He needed a moment to think while his chest would BURN with stinging pain. It was hel. BOOM! sands would now cover the field, obscuring vision. In this mess of visions, the smell of crimson weed, and a faint light would be the only senses coming to fruition as the light and scent would trail to the Mire. (Travis "Wolf" Hoffman) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18:59] Tara blinks at the dramatic exit, pipe lolling from her mouth as she stands still on the beach. "Huh." (Tara Tuffam)