Fairy Tail RPG |
神 Administrators: {{Inara Serra}} {{Mazohyst}} 主 Global moderators: {{Ajimeister}} 座 Guild Librarian {{Fumus}} {{Sachio Hanabe}} 裁 Mission Moderators: {{Kanna}} {{Reya Starylight}} {{Hadou}} 司 Librarians: {{Potato}} {{Mango}} {{Grond}} |
FTG Staff |
{{Fairy Tail RPG Rules}} {{Fairy Tail RPG News}} {{Character Creation Template}} {{Character Modification Template}} {{Mission Creation}} {{Mission Request}} {{Grading Request Topic}} {{Guild Members}} {{Item Creation}} {{FTG and You: The Guide 3.0}} {{Project Jumpstart: For Newbies!}} |
| [Graded]Light Up The Night; The Man in The Hood Part 1 | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Jun 2 2014, 06:40 AM (1,012 Views) | |
| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 2 2014, 06:40 AM Post #1 |
|
Stay the course.
![]()
|
Dandelion Sector. His home. His bread and butter. What an awful place it was. This city never prospered, but did it ever deserve to? Artorius had traveled across the world. He had been on isolated islands and desolate seas, and more cities and towns than he could possibly count on his fingers and toes. Yet, Dandelion was unique. It was perilous and dangerous, without question it might just be the worst place to live in Fiore. Condemned as it was, it had similarities with places like Trillium where organized crime is the spice of life. Yet, here in Dandelion, this place never prospered nor grew. Skyscrapers lined the horizon which was rendered smokey and polluted by the industrial sector's mills and factories. Only the few elite nobles lined their pockets, but everyone else suffered beneath their heavy weight. In this way, Dandelion was unique. Even in Trillium and the other devastated cities, one could rise to the top. Yet, why was this so? Was this city simply so rotten to the core, to the very marrow of the bone that saving it was impossible? After the demonic invasion of the key cities of the kingdom, Artorius began to wonder and ponder over this very notion. If he could help save Tessera from complete and utter devastation, then what could he do for Dandelion? Part of him always hated this place, from the very first memory he could recall, the man hated living here. Yet, that was exactly why he needed to try to do something to save this place. But what? What could a man who lived and breathed the same polluted, hazy air that drove him to be a thief for all his life possibly do for the downtrodden and oppressed of Dandelion? These questions drove him mad as Artorius wandered through the rain drenched streets of the south eastern sector of Dandelion. The pitter patter of rain created a constant static ambient noise over these streets, and the skies were a melancholic gray, like the image of a television tuned to a dead channel. Days like these were nostalgic, driving him to recall his days as a petty thief, a pickpocket who used the sound of the downpour to sneak and get away. Yet, those days were gone. For him, anyway. A cry for help. A man, young, maybe a teenager. Two blocks, maybe less away from his current position. These streets weren't empty, but not a single soul offered help. Bystander apathy, they call it. The more people there to observe, the less likely anyone is going to do anything. Yet, Artorius found himself compelled to make his way there, climbing a nearby fire escape before nimbly leaping from roof to roof before the man was in sight. There was a young man, clutching tightly to a small leather bag. Before him stood a motley crew of men, the thuggish sort no less, beating and kicking him hard in the back and ribs. "Is the bag worth more than your life?" Artorius asked himself as he stepped forward, ready to unleash a flurry upon them. But, before he could act, there was another upon them in a flurry of leather and steel. |
![]() |
|
| Lightning | Jun 2 2014, 07:23 AM Post #2 |
|
Steel your mind. Run on instinct.
|
Dandelion was most definitely an interesting place to an outsider, so corrupt was its way of life and so downtrodden were many of its civilians that you would think it a place none would choose to visit let alone live. So why was it that its streets never failed to bustle or the strong never failed to find people new to the streets to prey upon? From a land not even connected to Fiore Artesia had seen her fair share of places like it and yet there was no doubt something which could call even her back to it. For a time she would have told you that it was something to do with the potential for money to be made, or taken. As she walked through the streets on the night in question though something else struck her, there was a certain potential in the place, one that she doubted many could see let alone cared to look for. Unlike most of the other places she'd seen in her life and could compare to Dandelion itself the towns buildings were not in a state of disrepair beyond recovery, the number of citizens had not fallen despite the plague of crime affecting it, most importantly though it had called to at least a few who would fight for it. The same few that would seen cross paths with a man of conviction, a man who had met a dragon and come home to speak about it, THE man who start his own brand of revolution against those hiding in the deepest, darkest parts of the towns society. Artesia had already met this very person on several occasions and luckily for her she'd be the first of many to help him along the way. A cry for help cut through the evening air alerting everyone on its busy streets to the fact that someone was in need of aid, did anybody move as if to give it to them though? Of course not, it was almost a wonder that the person in trouble had bothered to ask for it. As long as no one did anything to help him then none on the streets would feel guilt, if no one else was going to go help him then they would convince themselves there was nothing they could have done either. Artesia was no white knight however for reasons she wasn't one hundred percent sure on she found herself being drawn towards the source of the voice. If they were naive enough to call for help in the town of Dandelion then she couldn't help but feel like they were in over their heads. Making a dash up a fire escape and using the rooftops to cut the distance she had to travel Artesia made good time, in fact it was so good that she was able to reach the stricken traveller right before things took a turn for the worst. Cowering on the ground with a bag clutched tightly to his body the man was making a mistake that all too many made when faced with a choice of personal possessions or their life, no matter what it was that the cloth may have held surely he could see the folly dying to protect it. If something material is taken from you, you simply have to take it back, a life however was something altogether different. As one of the attackers brought his foot down with the intention to crush the very skull of his opposition Artesia tossed a well placed smoke grenade at their feet, startled by it and bothered by the smoke that poured from it the group brought their hands to their mouths instinctively while crying out in confusion. Under the cover of the smoke Artesia launched herself down amidst the men who had spread out slightly in the confusion and upon landing she immediately and fluidly shifted into casting her Death Lotus. Daggers of solidified darkness would pierce the flesh of the men around the woman and while hardly lethal for where they lodged themselves they were painful enough, let alone terrifying enough given the reality of a surprise attack being launched against them. Thankfully for the young man Artesia was defending, the fact he lay on the ground would prevent him from also being skewered in several places. As her technique channelling ended the men who were staggered and bleeding were forced backwards by a pulse of magic, emanating from Artesia herself the blow would send them out of the smoke cloud and several metres from their prey. It was only as the smoke started to clear out thanks to said force of magic that she noticed the familiar figure that had joined her, "Well, well, look what the smoke dragged in." She said with a witty smirk upon her features and her gaze well and truly locked upon his own pools of brown. Edited by Lightning, Jun 2 2014, 07:24 AM.
|
![]() |
|
| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 2 2014, 09:26 AM Post #3 |
|
Stay the course.
![]()
|
Scented perfume. Flowery, with a slight scent of fruit. And shampoo, lavender perhaps. The scent was unmistakable, as was its owner. Clad in black leather with a blades at either side of her curvacious hips and crimson tresses of hair that fell at her back and shoulders, with not even a single hair falling out of place as she nimbly and gracefully spun about in a whirlwind of black and steel, the visage of Artesia Zenaide was easy enough to recognize. From her very scent to her appearance, as well as the way she carried herself, the woman was one of a kind in more ways that one. She was a friend, a close one, and perhaps things were more complicated than that. Yet, she was the last person he expected to see in this dreary rain drenched back alley, especially not saving some poor sap from the beating of a lifetime. Teal eyes locked with his own russet brown momentarily before his eyes flickered back to their quarry -- which were largely reduced to a bloodied state of disarray. Those that survived the onslaught ran for dear life, but one in particular would suffer just as his victim had. In a swift leap, Artorius moved from his rooftop position before landing squarely on him, knees striking him hard in the shoulders, before he was finally dispatched with a palm strike below the chin. Lights out for this one. With those men scattered and laid to waste away, Artorius approached the downed man. He was bleeding through a few scrapes on his forehead, and he may have a broken bone or two, but otherwise he was alive and conscious. "Up you go," Artorius spoke as he pulled the man on his feet and dusted him off. "So, the contents of that bag really worth your life, man?" he spoke casually towards him. The young man was not what he expected. His eyes were bloodshot, and not from a broken blood vessel, and his face was ragged, his cheeks gaunt and hollow. His body shook, but not from the cold nor pain. Then, the man reached into his bag, retrieving a metal six-shooter that gleamed in the lamp light. Artorius never gave him a chance to shoot, pulling his shooting arm before dragging him down to the ground. It appeared that the man had intended to protect whatever it was in this bag, that of course being a gun, but he never had the chance to pull it on his assailants just as he didn't have the chance to shoot against Artorius. After the man was knocked out cold, Artorius glanced at the weapon. It felt heavy. The serial number was ground off in a crude fashion, perhaps with a nail file, and it was old and worn out, not a new model. It was then that it all clicked in his head. The gaunt, hollowed appearance of the man, the undoubtedly illegitimate fire arm. He was little more a junkie. Poor, desperate, and craving for a fix, enough so that he would do anything, even turn to using a gun. Yet, he got unlucky along the way. "This city..." Artorius spoke with a long, heavy sigh, taking in a fresh breath of the hazy, damp air. "It only ever makes me wonder why I keep coming back here." With a flick of the wrist, the man emptied the cylinders before he tossed the gun hard into the distance, landing with a splash into the river that runs through the city. "I'd ask you what brings you to this place but this is hardly the place. Come on, I'll buy you a drink." |
![]() |
|
| Lightning | Jun 7 2014, 02:09 PM Post #4 |
|
Steel your mind. Run on instinct.
|
Gone were the days in which Artesia would find herself truly shocked to come across Artorius Sidonis in random places, no matter where it was or for what reason, they seemed to stumble across one anothers quite often. One might suggest that there was something pulling the pair towards one another, something other than the physical magnetism they shared of course. Others may try to write it off such things as merely coincidence and nothing else, but, whatever it was Artesia didn't mind it one bit. The man was never an eyesore to behold. In fact he was quite the opposite, he was quite the piece of eye candy if you asked her. The ever so brisk moments the pair of dominating figures in the alley way spent with their eyes locked caused all kinds of things to be set in motion, with the last but not least being the incapacitation of the very man they'd been protecting. Why, would someone who so desperately pleaded for aid and who so desperately needed it, turn on their saviours? Whatever the reasons, he quickly learned the folly of his choice as his face kissed the pavement in a rather less than romantic fashion. Letting out a heavy sigh Artesia nudged his figure with her left foot which was just hard enough to roll him over revealing the bag he was so keen on protecting. As she crouched down to inspect what was inside she found herself even more irritated than she already had been, there wasn't even enough value in the bag to call the time out of her night she'd wasted to help him worth it. Well, then again, perhaps Artorius could prove to do just that in his wake. They always managed to have a fun time in the past, why would this one be any different. "Straight to the sweet spot," The red head said as she stood from her crouched position facing her companion in all her glory. "Good thing it's something I like in a man."Her words were mischievous and flirtatious but they would serve to remind the man before her just who he was dealing with, as if he could ever forget. Part of her couldn't wait for the usual witty retort that he seemed to always come back with, it was one of the reasons that she found him so compelling. Not only was he easy on the eyes but he had the kind of personality she could click with, he kept things interesting and what wasn't to like about that? Talk about a drink being had lead the pair to their next destination and perhaps if they had known just what would come from their time within its walls they would have thought more of what had happened the last time they had been there. With all of this unknown to them however they were left with the solemn first steps through its doors. Artesia knew full well which bar they had stumbled across first but she wasn't about to start pussy footing around it, Jean Barasavi had died after the chase they gave to him from the very building but Artorius wasn't the kind of man to appreciate such and act and that suited her more than fine. She'd never been one to like pussy footing or sugar coating things anyway, instead, she entered the building and made her way towards a pair of side by side and open seats at the bar. "Bring your best and leave the bottle." She motioned to the bartender. Eyes had been set on the new hot pair that walked into the bar however, for once, nobody seemed to be picking a fight with them. Based on a couple of murmurs between a few at the back though there might have been some that remembered them from their last visit, but who could blame them. "The bars," Artesia said somewhat out of nowhere but moments after both had become settled and comfortable. Her words would likely cause Artorius to wonder at least for a moment what it was she was speaking about however as she glanced sideways to him with glass in hand and elbows resting on the bar it would all become apparent. "They always seem to have the good stuff." The grin upon the woman's features would grow larger momentarily as she finished speaking however it was soon largely concealed by her glass as she lifted it to her lips. There was a part of Artesia that knew the question half posed to her in the alley was one that Artorius likely hadn't expected to be answered and yet with a conversation to start and a mood to keep on a certain level she didn't see the harm in letting him know she'd heard him. Edited by Lightning, Jun 7 2014, 02:10 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 8 2014, 06:24 AM Post #5 |
|
Stay the course.
![]()
|
Being at this bar was simply nostalgic for Artorius. Not only did he frequent this bar throughout his years, but it also made him momentarily fondly (and not so, as well) reminisce over the countless people he had met and encountered here. Artesia was perhaps the most notably recent. But, she was a rarity here, not because of looks or personality, but for the sole reason that she was here. She was alive. How many people did Artorius grow up with on these seem hazy, polluted streets that were rife with crime and madness? There were too many to count. But, the most recent one was perhaps one of the most personally haunting for him. Jean Barasavi. A damned fool. A dear friend. It was here that they encountered him for information, and it was the same day that he was shot down in cold blood. These streets were unforgiving and harsh. Too many people were lost to the madness in this city, and that was the first thought he had as his face paled upon looking at the bar, his clouded eyes staring clearly at the phantasm at the bar who bore the visage of his lost friend and brother. It was too common a tale. How long before Artorius was buried here too? Nobody bothered to make a difference, and that was a painful sting, one that Artorius dearly intended on drinking away. Sitting at the bar with his companion, Artorius tapped on the bar and gestured towards the bartender. "Scotch. The usual," Artorius spoke as he rummaged his hands through his hair and smoothed it slightly. "Put her order on my tab, Frank. Just don't let her drink my pockets dry." The bar was rowdy and chaotic, but their drinks were poured quickly and filled to the top of the glass. And that's why Artorius came here. Well, that and the nostalgia of this place. After Artorius took his drink in his hand and wrapped his lips around the rim, taking a hard swig til the contents were completely gone, he turned back towards the red-headed woman at his side. "This place has a lot of memories. Drinking til we got sick, til we felt numb and forgot everything who we were, bar fights and debauchery. Those were the good ones. You wanna know why bars are in every city?" Artorius mused as he absentmindedly stared down at his glass. "The alcohol's great but, here especially, people want to forget. This city, Artesia, you saw what it's like here. Do you believe people can change?" |
![]() |
|
| Lightning | Jun 8 2014, 10:42 AM Post #6 |
|
Steel your mind. Run on instinct.
|
If there was one thing that Artesia liked more than a good drink it was a free one, especially when it was as good as the bottle she had before her on the table. Add in some good company and the woman was setting herself up for quite the night, too bad she wasn't yet aware of just what kind. "Change..." Artesia lingered on the word momentarily, letting it roll from her tongue and cascade from her lips she showed the usual signs of thought. Her teal eyes locked to the surface of the drink in her glass as she moved it from side to side just enough for the ice inside to cause ripples. The question her companion posed to her held an obviously serious undertone for Artesia and knowing what she did of him she knew that something had to be bothering him, more so than it seemed on his outer shell. Seeking to give an honest answer to the man she considered close the red head thought hard on just what she thought, could people change? Artesia's mind drifted to the various instances in her life so far that could help her decide just how to answer him. It was an obvious thing that people changed as they found themselves growing throughout their years however just how much and how much of them would forever remain the same? Deep down everyone is who they are and that will not change, or at least that was what ran through Artesia's mind initially. A drink from her glass would serve to break the utter silence that took over the pair at the bar, one that would empty it completely leaving the ice to clink against it as she placed it down and motioned for a refill. Perhaps the woman's change in expression would be noticed by Artorius but regardless of the chance she didn't wipe it away as quickly as she normally would have, in fact it was there because she was focusing on the memory on purpose. The feelings of guilt and inadequacy that plagued her with every second ticking on were fought and pushed to the background of her mind as she thought of the question at hand; could people change? Artorius surely wouldn't have meant the usual kind of change that went with age and maturity, no, he'd have meant something more sudden. A heavy sigh blew through Artesia's lips as she closed her eyes only to open them once more after leaning back in her chair, "You sure know how to ruin the mood you know." Her words were not supposed to be scolding in nature nor were they anything less than playful, something the gentle upward curves of her lips would show. "You'll just have to make up for it later." She winked before letting her head fall backwards so that she was looking up at the roof of the building around her. "Change is hard to quantify," She said before a brief pause. "Just how much of it is lasting and how much is opportunistic?" Tilting her head the woman would seek to make eye contact with Artorius again before continuing on, "All things considered though, people won't change without a reason. It's far too easy not to." |
![]() |
|
| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 9 2014, 02:35 AM Post #7 |
|
Stay the course.
![]()
|
People don't change without a reason. This was something that Artorius could agree on. Something that he thought was true himself. Before he stepped foot into that jungle in search of mystery, intrigue, and most importantly - himself, Artorius was a different man. Downtrodden, oppressed, chained, and bound by feelings of guilt, regret, shame, and fear. Back then, Artorius was weak and fragile in comparison to how he is now. It took ages for him to realize how much of himself was slipping away, degrading into nothingness. After another glass of whiskey was poured, Artorius absentmindedly swayed it, making a characteristic chink as the ice struck the glass. "You're right. Men require a reason to change. A crucible, if you will," he spoke, pausing only to take another sip of his drink. "The day I walked into that jungle all those months ago I was like a chunk of iron ore. Hard, yet brittle, rusted and filled with stone and slag, nonessentials weighing me down. Surviving the jungle and her training were my crucible. I was tempered and forged and turned into a weapon of sorts." It was true that Artorius changed. His outlook on life, his actions, personality and demeanor, it all changed under those situations. Yet, Artorius was a rarity. Most who go through such trials, a crucible, do not come out of it for the better. They fragment or crack, or they burn for the rest of their lives. And while Artorius changed, from a chunk of ore to a weapon of sorts, he had no purpose. No amount of thievery, drinking, women, or anything else felt like it gave him purpose. They satisfied him, but such things were only temporary. As a man born of this city, an alley cat who always coveted and sought what he did not have, the thing he sought most right now was a purpose, something which had long eluded him. The rather depressing conversation was rapidly cut short. The bar became quiet for a moment, yet Artorius was more focused on his drink. The sound of heavy boot steps was loud and obnoxious. Yet, he was more focused on the clink of metal and polymer, the characteristic sound of a hammer shifting into position. But it was the smell that gave it away, that caught his attention. The powdery scent that smelled vaguely of chalk, burnt paper, and sulfur with the slight audible whine of a lacrima core powering up. Gun fire tore through the bar. Flesh and wood became filled with holes, like a good Iceborn cheese. Blood sprayed from torn flesh and wooden splinters sprayed every which direction. Quickly, Artorius leaped over the bar and crouched behind it. Bulletproof. This bar had been shot up more times than he could count, and he and the bartender and owner had the scars to show for that. "Frank, what the hell do these guys want?!" Artorius shouted over the blistering hellfire raining down over the bar. "The hell do I know! All I know is that I sure as shit letting them wreck this fine establishment - again!" Reaching behind him, Frank the bar owner pulled out a shotgun and slammed shell after shell into the chamber until it was fully loaded. "Worry about your own life. I'll end this if you stick to the usual deal." "Ugh, pay your tab off again?" "You know it, Frank." |
![]() |
|
| Lightning | Jun 9 2014, 05:57 AM Post #8 |
|
Steel your mind. Run on instinct.
|
As lovely as their deep and meaningful conversation may have been Artorius and Artesia soon found themselves being interrupted in the usual style; abruptly. It might not have been a group of men and/or women storming through the doors and seeking them out to pick a fight nor was it a fight that they had antagonised from people inside the bar but it serve to set things off with a bang. Was it a case of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time or was there something a little more to it, perhaps it was in fact quite the opposite. There was of course no time to ponder on such things if you didn't want to get shot to what resembled cheese cloth and of this Artesia was acutely aware. Unlike her companion Artesia didn't possess a sense of smell keen enough to pick up on the traces left behind on firearms from previous uses nor did she hear the slight whine of them winding up to fire, her ears were filled by the sound of her drink being swallowed. It wasn't until the first shot was fired that the red head knew what was happening and unfortunately even with her reflexes to rely on she wasn't about to get to cover completely unscathed. A storm of bullets flew through the air and while no one in particular was their target they lodged themselves in flesh and wood alike, screams filled the air and in the rush of adrenaline those that had the skills to did what they could to survive. Many died instantly from the wounds they suffered while many more bled out on the ground but three reached what turned out to be safe enough cover behind the bulletproof bar itself. While Artorius and Frank settled something about a payment or the like Artesia's crouching form had settled at the other end and with furrowed brows she inspected a flesh wound she'd received in the surprise attack. It was nothing to worry about but frankly the fact that her drink had been interrupted alongside the fact her pants were now sporting a rather unseemly -albeit small- tear on her front thigh had the woman rather irritated, not to mention being shot at tends to tick most people off. From her position behind the bar Artesia caught a glimpse of the interiors reflection in the glass of an unbroken alcohol cabinet before her and spying the men entering the bar with weapons still drawn she knew the time for action was nigh. "Artorius, on the count of three." She said glancing down the bar towards where he and Frank were sitting. On the count of three and under the cover Artorius would no doubt create for her the red head would launch herself out from behind the bar via a low profile and streamlined roll, carefully placing herself behind what remained of a large grandfather clock she would wait for the opportune time to make her move. |
![]() |
|
| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 9 2014, 06:36 AM Post #9 |
|
Stay the course.
![]()
|
"Don't forget the deal, Frank," Artorius spoke with a grin. A moment later, Frank propped himself up and began to aim. But, before he could take a shot, Artorius pulled him down by the back of his collar and popped him right in the head with the butt end of his dagger. "Thank me later. This is for your own good," True enough, taking aim and shooting at these bastards could have dire consequences if he managed to maim, injure, or kill any of them. Artorius couldn't exactly let the owner of his favorite drinking establishment put himself at risk of retaliation and revenge, especially if he was a friend, now could he? As soon as Artesia counted down to three, the two bolted out of the cover of the reinforced bar. With a fist full of knives in hand, Artorius took them down patiently one by one. One of the henchmen was disarmed with a knife which sliced and pierced cleanly into the back of his hand. Another was struck in the ulnar nerve, causing him to lose his grip, and the two were quickly swept up as Artorius swept their legs with a quick low kick, knocking them hard against the ground. After a kick to the face they were out cold, just in time for Artorius to whirl around, spinning rapidly on his heel and pulling his blade off his back, sheathe still on the blade. With a hard strike to the face the guy closest to him was disoriented, and then another jab to the soft, tender flesh below the chin knocked him out for good. Unfortunately for Artorius someone had landed in a cheap shot on him, nailing him quite good at the side of his face. But, Artorius was undeterred, and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him forward while simultaneously hooking his leg with his sword and tripping him over. Shifting his weight onto his shoulder, Artorius pulled and tugged, dislocating his arm from his shoulder in a painful, audible crack. |
![]() |
|
| Lightning | Jun 12 2014, 05:08 PM Post #10 |
|
Steel your mind. Run on instinct.
|
Exactly as she'd predicted Artorius had launched himself out from behind the bar with guns a blazing -metaphorically of course-, safely tucked behind the remnants of the grandfather clock the woman was able to pick and choose her targets. Artesia knew what the man had in his arsenal when it came to his magic, or at least she knew some of it, and having him go out first while bullets flying was a real possibility was the best option at the time. That didn't mean she was content to let him have all the fun though. Those of the gunmen that Artorius himself wasn't directly keeping forcibly occupied were raising their weapons and regaining their composure from the metres away they deemed safety, no doubt if left un-inhibited they would have fired upon the dragon slayer and who knows what the outcome would have been. Seeking to grab their attention Artesia whistled sharply as she stood from her crouched position behind the clock, something which the idiots took hook line and sinker as they turned their heads to see what was up. The fiery red head kept her body lithe in motion and therefore hard to hit as she spun on her heels throwing out several surprisingly accurate throwing knives on her short journey to her new place of cover. The knives that embedded themselves into their targets caused bloodshed but it didn't stop the weapons they held from being fired beforehand. Sure, enough their aim was rough, rushed and hit nothing but the wall behind the red head as she moved but the damage to the structure was real, no doubt something Frank would be rather pissed about when he woke up. One by one though the fire ceased thanks to the injuries sustained from their rather elusive prey and with their guns dropped and numbers no longer able to wield them the men turned to catching their fox the old fashioned way; by hand. Something they were all too eager to accomplish upon seeing her form as she darted out from behind the pool table with a mischievous grin to her features. The gunmen were by no means nothing but one hit wonders and in bar brawl standards there was no doubt that they could have handled themselves in a fight, unfortunately for them their opponents were anything but standard. None of those against her were armed and so while she had drawn her blades Artesia wasn't about to use them lethally if she didn't have to, not that she cared about killing if it came down to it, it just didn't feel necessary. Rushing the closest of the men and sidestepping the side hook that he threw at her with power the woman responded by batting it away using the spiked cuff around her wrist for added pizzazz. Pained and unable to react the man found himself being taken out a powerful and agile spinning kick which thanks to her footwork meant that a second spiked piece of gear was doing work. Knocked out and sent to the ground bleeding by the spikes upon the woman's leg as it slammed into the back of his head the man let out a groan before hitting the ground with a thud. No time was to be spared though before Artesia found herself being converged upon by the other two men she'd hit with her throwing knives and while it looked as though she was in severe trouble as they flanked her she worried not, she still had many tricks left up her sleeve. A quick flip forwards into the air as the men closed in on her from both sides had Artesia twisting and spinning her body in a way that had both watching with lifted brows right up until they found themselves being turned to living pincushions. Just how many knives did the woman have anyway and how come she never missed one? Two very important questions that both gunmen asked themselves as they fell to their knees unable to even flee effectively. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Dandelion · Next Topic » |






7:38 PM Jul 11









