Description: A young woman gets her hands on a strange mask that compels, no, demands... no, no, even greater! It encompasses the desire to destroy. Meanwhile, an odd middle-aged man retreats to the quieter parts of Metro City in hopes of... something that seems to only make sense to his worldview and personal experiences. Somewhere along the way, there is one of the greater failures of communication ever recorded in unnatural history. (WINNER: Naerose...?)
[*] RUST vs NAEROSE in "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET"
- SUBURBIA -
It all began with a mysterious and shiny mask. Wooden, and lacquered in red tribal patterns, it could easily have been a leftover at an antique shop somewhere. It begs to be put on...
It begs for murder.
NAEROSE has found the mask, and despite every precaution taken, it will seize the slightest moment of provocation and latch on, twisting her personality towards violence on the first person she comes across...
Who happens to be RUST HOWARD, JR.
NOTE: NAEROSE will have an item in her inventory, and should 'equip mask' prior to the first action of the fight. This mask item will speed up her attacks by 10% but will slow down her reflexes by 5%.
The day was a normal seeming day. There was a sun out and it was kind of warmish. There was you know, locusts and they were locust-ee. . Nae hadn't really bothered with them much because they really really didn't look like flying snacks and there kind of lame and lets see.. Still some chaos and mayhem, must be a festival going on or something, and despite all of this Naerose is like totally bored.
"Man." She complains, sitting on the head of what is probably some sort or crazy statue. "Come to think of it, So is this metro china town, or greek town?" She asks a random demon denizen that looks like a short person with a head two times larter than their body - the sort of thing that should tip you off that this is not normal. It does not tip Naerose off and the thing ignores her.
"Huh," She says, fingering this mask she found. No explanation is provided as to the where or how, only when the denizen notices she has said mask it high tails it.
"Guess he's late for work or something," She remarks watching the departing figure and then sighing a bit. The red witch was bored.
When handling an evil or potentially evil artifact you might consider certain precautions. . . When youre in a crazy hellscape you might consider anything you find potentialy dangerous. Naerose is doing neither of these things. "I wonder if this is edible." She murmurs and begins to bring the mask to her face . . . !
"Nah, it probably isn't very tasty." She sets the mask down in her lap and doesn't notice as the mask seems to have a frustrated look. She doesn't notice. "I wonder if it looks any nicer on the inside." She lifts the mask and peers at the wear me side and takes no further precautions. A branch falls from a nearby walking tree which knocks her on the head toward the mask . . . . !!
She still doesn't put it on.
"Ow." She says and rubs her head, replacing the mask in her lap. Now it looks downright angry and still she doesn't notice.
"Hey I bet it's a mask!"
. . . . . . . . . . .
A moment later.
"Ooof, hey gettoffa me, there isn't a mouth hole to eat stuf from!" She exclaims while fighting for a few moments to get off the mask that she just on a moment of random bordem just put right on. Slowly an itch starts to form in the back of her mind, those locusts ARE probably flying food in fact, sometimes they are carrying giant roast chicken that looks like people, chefs in this quarter of metro sure are creative. . In fact, she's surrounded by walking food, like Ommpa Loompas, those little green guys in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory she's always wanted to try, well here is her chance! She licks her lips, something she randomly realizes she can do now and though she put the mask on over her shades, that doesn't seem to be a problem as she can see all the food around her PERFECTLY. That is how it begins and where it goes from there is uncertain, only this is likely only the beginning.
What is this broom? It just wont do. The witch creature breaks off the broom head and is left with a long sharp stick. Much better. She starts lumbering toward the nearest walking turkey she can see.
Meanwhile, in a somewhat less nicer part of town, which is maybe better introduced as a somewhat nastier part of town, a silhouette of an overweight man hangs off a defunct street light. In their one free hand, they hold something up on high that tarnishes further in the horrid air of this demonic realm.
The very opposite of gleaming.
"Just... one more," he murmurs as he gives it a fling. A metallic echo fills the air where finger meets coin, seeing it spinning with the hopes and dreams of some unquantifiable number of people...
Into an old-fashioned newspaper dispenser.
"Yes!" This man seems very pleased with himself. He pulls himself up to the top of the street light, now delicately balancing on one leg.
"Well, now I can keep everyone I meet up to date on the happenings. Kind of hard without any television or radio to go around, good detour if I say so myself," he says to absolutely no one as he wipes the sweat off his brow. That same hand is brought up, fingers curled inward save for two as he dramatically leaps off while a patrol of locusts sweep by. He expertly(?) moves with the shape of the newspaper box to keep out of view, before sneakily bringing a hand up to open the box proper and...
Remove just a single newspaper.
"Wish I had more for one," he says as he closes the box up again, "but I'm sure that'll be fine..."
Rolling up the newspaper to fit into his well-populated toolbelt, he takes off into a series of dramatic leaps off of whatever stands and surfaces he has available to scale back up a single story building as the shadows of shady backyards and once tranquil parks start to stir. The denizens of the dark have been much, much more active lately.
It's a wonder he has any cheer in his voice when things have begun to grow so much worse than they already are, or how much he may be overestimating his boon, crouching under the skies of Majigen as he surveys the streets...
"Hm, this house could use a new roof," he surmises aloud as he scratches at some of the trails of black that mar the green slope he stands on.
Whoever's boarded up inside is probably terrified of whatever noises are being made on the roof.
Suddenly, the visage of a young woman in a fetching mask with a sharp stick happens along by, and he scratches his chin in something approximating thought.
"The last four I asked didn't seem too interested in what's been going on," he murmurs, "they sure were happy to show me their dental work." A light bulb goes off on his head.
It promptly shorts out. He snaps his fingers.
"Yep! If I can't see their teeth, they're probably not interested in showing me them. Must be lost..."
He takes off in a series of runs and jumps across rooftops, casting a shadow up in the closest equivalent to some heavenly body of light - or its exact opposite - shining down upon the streets below...
He belly flops on the ground right before the masked woman with the pointy stick.
"Oof! Ahh." He hisses, rolling onto his back as he deftly draws the newspaper upwards. "Hi there! Sorry about that. You look lost, thought you wanted updates on what's been going on! Could probably tell you the weather forecast..."
"Embrace. Destruction." The bemasked says, with no internal monologue available, "I. Am. Feral. Chaos." It continues. Physically the red witch is largue unchanged save for the addition of a mask, still she carries herself like a hulking mass of muscle even though by and large she's quite lean. By now the denizens are long gone, perhaps they can sense the new malicious aura about the woman that to the perceptive, might radiate off of her like steam, or smoke, or flames licking off of her, but to anyone else she might just look mean. However the attention of the thing is clearly on Rust now, it's eyes like a couple of glowing red coals set in the mask (despite her having black shades on underneath the mask), her voice low and rumbling like a freight train put into someone's throat. Her every step slow and lumbering, but now purposeful. There is no way of failing to read the body language that is being spoken with a loud speaker, however, if there was any doubt, the be-masked continues,
"God. In. Fire. Ultimate. Destruction."
So what does the be-masked do when someone belly flops next to it and really gives her no cause what so ever for there to be a problem between them of any kind..? Poke it with a stick, or rather the be-masked tries to just stab Rust with the stick. If the body language wasn't clear enough, then surely when she gets stabby. There is no mercy, compassion in her.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Naerose's Medium Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 [E] Naerose
To just about anyone of a reasonable mindset, understanding of their own mortality, and otherwise acknowledging the signs of danger, now is a great time to run.
As the sharp stick comes down upon his prone form, there is a seemingly effortless flick of the wrist of the hand not holding the newspaper to catch his hand around the end of it. Aside from a sharp, poking feeling around his thumb, he seems...
"Howard Rust, Jr.! Good to meet you, Ms... Mrs... Chaos?"
...Entirely none the wiser.
He uses his momentary grip on the stabbing stick to hoist himself up.
"Thank you, usually I stick the landing," he exhales loudly as he lets go and shakes out his hand. Bleeding? If he notices the tiny trickle of blood, he doesn't... react. He does look like he's been around the block a few times already, as it is. Dirty, smelly, a little bruised.
"You don't normally see skies like this, these days," he remarks as he steps back to open the newspaper, "now let's see what's been going on," from a newspaper that is already ancient and out of date, he squints as he intently tries to read the print under a light that makes it difficult to read.
It appears to take all of his focus...
...?
COMBATSYS: Rust focuses on his next action.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 [E] Naerose
This must be what it is like for normal people to have to deal with Naerose. The ornate mask, carved no doubt of heart tree, painted with blood mixed with the tears of orphan children (for thickness) and carved with bone knives (knives made out of bones) edged with actual teeth. It is a prestigous mask build of the blood, sweat and tears of master artisans. It deserves better than this (though if it deserves better than a host like Naerose is undetermined. Unlike the mask of well known horror icons like Jason, this mask can express and it looks irritated. Rust should just die.
The be-masked extends her hand toward Rust, the newspaper and everything and intones her intention.
"Ultimate. Destruction."
Perhaps someday there would be a self aware reflection and when others of a serious slant trying to do something important like murder in this case, Naerose would realize how it must be like to deal with her, but probably not.
The be-masked tries to blast the newspaper, Rust, anything else that can possibly get caught up in the blast as well. There is not even a remote attempt to avoid damaging anything or one else, rather an attempt seems to be to destroy as much as possible.
COMBATSYS: Rust avoids Naerose's End Creation.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 [E] Naerose
"Ultimate Destruction...?" The less than bright man asks aloud. "Oh, yeah, that movie. The remake with Mr. Jones? Huh, says here it came out to theaters today," he murmurs as he points a finger against the text.
As the malevolent being within the mask compels the young woman to harness her energies to an awe-inspiring, fiery, destructive swath that should reduce just about everything around it to smoldering ash, with only unnamed funeral pyres in its wake.
"Today's weather... oh, don't know how they'd call this," he sounds excited to find out! He pivots, turns, and steps away once in an angle as the blast rings out.
It is either a masterwork of disguised intent, or a triumph in out-and-out obliviousness, that this man somehow moves in a way /with/ the explosion of Naerose's powers that the flames belch and flicker just around him, his long black (...purple? It's hard to say) locks done in a single long ponytail swaying along with the flames. The hair might even be teasing the sparks that flicker just beyond reach...
The way he so bravely - or stupidly - steps back forward in its wake with a spring in his step, a purpose in his momentum...
Is there a reason, one beyond horrifying, of mundane comprehension, that this man seems so unafraid as he steps a little too far into Naerose's personal space?
"They got the temperature right. Overcast, though," he's rolling up the newspaper as the flames left behind by the explosion cast their yellowish-orange illumination against his back, accidentally(?) jabbing the newspaper against the mask, "well, we can't get them a--"
COMBATSYS: Naerose blocks Rust's Small Random Weapon.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 [E] Naerose
The babble that comes out of Rust is irrelevant and apparently being ignored. The being is only frustrated he's not kindly being blown into dust, destroid, killed seems so small a word, leaves too much behind. When your aim is so narrow it is easy not to bother with things like dialogue, especially dialogue as silly as what Rust is saying, in spite of what the be-masked is attempting to accomplish.
It is hard to tell if the mask finds the burning paper a real threat or just a real annoying thing to deal with, but it is easily swatted away with a wave of the hand. Meanwhile part of the be-masked hair starts to smolder which seems not to bother the figure in the least as it fixes smoldering violence on Rust with a stare that if looks could kill and incinerate, but luckily they can not. From the way the wood bends and turns you'd think it was made out of something softer like leather, expressions really do seem to form along the surface which should be hard and yet is pliable, somehow. The brow knots the upper carved lip area curls and once again expression speaks louder than words. Especially since this time there are no words.
With no better recourse for such an annoying creature (primarily because it won't die) the be-masked simply lifts up one foot and attemps to stomp, kick Rust under heel. Probably the most telegraphed attack ever if not for the fact that somehow the force manages to do so with much greater speed than might of been expected.
COMBATSYS: Naerose successfully hits Rust with Strong Kick.
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Rust 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 [E] Naerose
The newspaper is effortlessly knocked out of his hand, to roll across a slurry of concrete, asphalt, dirt, and what could be red food coloring... one would hope.
"Whoops! Don't worry, things get dropped all the time," he says as he kneels down before the embodiment of the desire for all things to be completely and utterly obliterated from the face of... no, let's take this a step further, they'd like to take the face of whatever plane hosts such polluting affronts to the purity of nothingness.
"Hm, say, you hear the joke about what's black, white, and red all over?" He asks as one of Naerose's feet lift up. "I can say now that's a literal thing, tell you wh--"
Tell you what, or tell you /wham/? If one guesses the latter, they're absolutely correct as the heel comes down atop his scalp and sandwiches it against the newspaper to a particularly odd syllable from his mouth that doesn't seem like it should conform to the English language - or maybe most of the spoken ones - muffled by his face being stomped up against the newspaper on the ground.
This should be enough to crush skulls, to snap necks, and yet... he gets back up, rubbing the back of his head.
"Low flying bird, huh?" He has the audacity to look /away from the malevolent entity that by any measurable standard of intent means to do him harm/, looking through the flames set by the earlier blast he so casually sidestepped...
"Ah, I know what this is! Shh! Careful. Don't make too much noise--" he says this as he cleanly draws the pipe from his toolbelt. In most circumstances, he'd be right to assume someone would be giving him ample space to draw the pipe, or... give him space because he's probably about to cause some manner of idiocy that's going to see himself or others nearby hurt, embarrassed, or worse.
Owing to the unfortunate murderous mask bearer keeping with their killing intent, he stands to accidentally whack them back-handedly in his attempt to draw the pipe up and back.
COMBATSYS: Naerose interrupts Random Strike from Rust with Darkness Nova.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 [E] Naerose
There was something clearly wrong here, instead of being squashed like a bug, the creature before the be-masked was resiliant, hardly seemed injured at all by any of the attempts to destroy it. Fury starts to grow on the hard face, once again appearing more maliable than should be possible. Instead of being squashed, the man is attempting to fight back still while speaking non-sense (reference non-sense is anything that is not the expiring screams of the smote) So the be-masked simply continues its assault.
Taking the blow on the arm the bemasked simply tries to pick Rust up and open a celestial gate to nothingness right on him, or something to that effect, it's more like blackness and gravity, so so much gravity.
"Pain. Universe. Destruction." It says while trying to hold Rust there for as long as it can. Ideally the collapsing blackness will take him with it, but more likely he is't completely destroyed and survives the entire effect which the manifestation being can only maintain for so long much like its grip, before dropping Rust and probably hoping he stays down. . Not that it would be a sure way to disuade further attack, after all, he might get up again later. The eyes continue to smolder.
It is difficult to quantify the experience of nothingness when it happens to anyone. To exist at all is to be something, to be a part of a quantifiable thing that is there. The incredible forces of the universe, twisted in such a way - even for the tiniest imaginable fraction of time - is nothing short of unbearable agony that leaves emotional scars to those who manage to survive their physical forms being compacted and twisted in such a space that dares collapse itself.
When he is somehow ejected whole - well, mostly, the poor lighting makes it a touch hard to see any real bruising, but there is at least bleeding from the nose - the excess pressure ejects him with enough force to put a little distance between the two of them as he tumbles into a seemingly dazed, seated position.
"Well! That was a thing that happened." Could he have comprehended what just came between the two of them? Cautiously, with something that at least carries the connotations of an appropriate amount of alarm for anyone that may dare think of approaching one so hell-bent on annihilation on an unnaturally expressive mask, his pace is slow... deliberate...
"I knew it!" He declares as he takes off in a run. His right hand goes straight for the top of the masked woman's head, attempting to... faceplant her?
"Watch out! I see one!" See what?!
...Perhaps human stupidity, indeed, triumphs over all forces of the universe?
There is a rustling in a tree not far from here. What on earth, one would wonder, inspires such a reaction from a man and not the ill-meaning, completely unambiguous speech of an entity that wishes only for everything to simply cease to be...?
COMBATSYS: Naerose blocks Rust's Brick Stacker.
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Rust 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 [E] Naerose
Face plant her he does, but the be-masked is too clever or flexible or uncaring about the body it inhabits and therefore rolls with the fall in such a way to protect itself, the mask. So once face planted and then gathering steam to return to it's full height the mask is forced to face the reality that this creature is harder to destroy than at first imagined. Perhaps it is a flaw of the body it inhabited or underestimating the life forms which it has thus far come across, the only thing it can be certain of: This all is just going to have to go. So it takes a more careful approach to take care of this bug and hopefully.. The rest of this world won't be so resliant.
The mask reaches out and tries to grab Rust by the face and then plant his face into the ground, kind of like a basket ball player palming a basketball and dunking it. The motion it with the least amount of regard for human life and quite possibly more than the host hands can possibly hope to palm, but try it does.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Naerose's Medium Throw.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 [E] Naerose
In the heat of the moment, there is mutual faceplanting between a fool and a monster as a tiny thing casts a shadow in a realm already ultimately enveloped by one. The complete failure to communicate one's ill will to another leads to the both of them, ultimately, rolling with one another's attempts to get the other down to the ground with entirely polarizing reasons between them.
...In his case, it's more he gets directed to the part of the ground that is softer, spongier, and not made of hard artificial man-made materials, the hand that was previously grasping the present incarnation of the tribal tyrant having two fingers extended for whatever reason...
"...Whew! Close one, that," he murmurs as he rolls onto his back and stares up to the sky, "things have gotten nasty right quick. Surprised these streets are as empty as they are..."
Hm, wonder why.
He wipes his face. He hit the ground pretty rough, even if he was fortunate enough to be driven into dirt. "They look like little gray birds! Li'l bits of... black, white... sometimes they got a bit of a green glowing thing going. One just flew right on by at." By at?
In a nearby tree, something rustles, and his eyes come to life.
"There! Right there," he points at it, "one of the nastiest of its kind, it is..."
'It' takes off flying from the tree again, and he's already in a hurry. Well, accounting for tripping about to get back up onto his feet, he's running at Naerose with pipe at the ready...
"Boost me up 'n I'll--" Well, it seems the intent is to ask for her to boost him up, but given their wildly different ideas of what each other /is/, or what they want out of one another, it's more like he's trying to climb and step all over her clumsily. His added weight compared to hers, mask's lack of care for its host body's well being or otherwise, does not make this a favorable situation for said host while this so-called horrifying flying thing casts yet another ominous shadow.
COMBATSYS: Naerose fully avoids Rust's Step Ladder.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 [E] Naerose
For the moment it seems like these two polar opposite beings are coming together for a similar goal. . Specifically getting Rust up the tree. While at first the mask avoids being used as a step ladder, it does quickly reverse course and spins what once was a broom and is now a spear around and attempts to launch itself and Rust toward the tree. For the briefest of moments maybe they are working together, but reality rears it's ugly head way too early. For the being seems to be really just trying to launch Rust into the tree and through the brancehs and into high heavens and maybe just maybe gravity will do the rest. Here how it works.
When Rust attempts to step on the mask, it grabs his foot instead and tries to shove her 'spear' into his clothing and then charges it up to send it off (bon voyage) like a bottle rocket.
Some look of satisfaction comes over the mask's immobile face.
COMBATSYS: Naerose successfully hits Rust with Delphine Charge EX.
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Rust 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 [E] Naerose
"Careful," he says helpfully as he's helping himself uselessly to the host of the hateful horror, and his movements are not quite in sync with their intent. This should be a cue that something is wrong - at this point he must be purposely missing them...?
"You don't want to ever turn your backs on 'em," he instructs, "they got a taste for adventurer sorts--" this is about the point where the remains of the broomstick ends up inside his toolbelt. It is launched like a rocket, and up he goes.
"Thanks," and then there's a swing of a pipe at the tiny creature whose presence would appear of minimal concern were it not for this man's... attention? For what little attention he's paying to so many other things, it's kind of hard to sully that word with what's going on.
He misses, of course, and his upward momentum continues through a whole bunch of branches with comical exclamations of pain for every last one of them. The only hint of his continued presence is how the leaves - twisted and corrupted by the energies of this realm to be of really pretty colors in a show of cognitive dissonance, albeit ones of very dark and muted tones thanks to the low lighting of the realm - rustle with his every passing up...
At some point he must have gotten loose of his lift, because he comes back down and only manages to clutch the lowest branch for dear life, scratched and beaten.
He's holding onto that low branch like it's his only lifeline, as the tiny gray bird lands in the grass. Its beady little eyes blink almost unnoticeably, facing away from the two of them. It occasionally bobs its head to poke at the soil and its bounties, whatever it must see, walking along the increasingly damaged and twisted sidewalk without a care for the world.
"Y-You don't want to be down there with that," he gestures nearer with his right hand, signaling for the masked person to come closer, to come grab his hand, "lemme... lemme pull you up," he coughs once and spits out some of those leaves.
COMBATSYS: Rust assists Naerose.
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Rust 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 [E] Naerose
Heed the warning the mask does not, only the smoldering eyes turn up to Rust and burn. They burn. There is not sense of noticing the potential danger which he is warning it about, only one thing, murder. But what could this be? The Mask reaches out toward the hand, reaches reaches and palm out and and . .
"Ultimate. Destruction." The be-masked attempts to blast Rust and the tree and maybe just burn the world, yeah that'd be nice. "Destruction. Wreathed. In. Fire." The bemasked attempts to blast the entire tree, but mostly just Rust. Yeah, Mostly just Rust.
COMBATSYS: Naerose successfully hits Rust with End Creation.
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Rust 1/------=/=======|=======\=------\1 [E] Naerose
The little gray bird thing emits a tiny, high-pitched guttural sound from its throat that is lost to the ominous ambience of the hell-plunged suburbs of Metro City while it wanders the ground. It does not seem to regard the air of incredible danger as its head raises up from where it beats its beak against the ground.
There are some parallels with this bird brain and this strange man who does not seem to regard a cursed tribal mask with flaming eyes as anything greater a threat than... some very small flying thing.
"Wait, you're just gonna burn down this tree?" Somehow, he intuits the blast of flame moments before it rings out. "Hate doing it, but we might not have much of a choice with that around, might keep 'em away--"
Fwoosh!!
"Whoop! Hot. Hot hot hot, one--"
He disappears into the plumes of flames that would end creation - albeit on a localized, smaller scale than that of all of existence - and the tree leaves all start burning strange colors.
Some of the colors do not exist to the human eye. It is an eerie, frightening, trippy effect that at least has the sense to go to the predictable end of turning leaf, branch, and trunk steadily to ash... and a human body with it, one would assume. Hope? Plead? Pine? Desire?
Branches collapse as they grow weak from burning, and the weight of the dead bod--
He's not dead. He crawls out of there, singed and patting his scalp with the weirdest look on his soot-covered face.
It's a smile?
"T-Took a moment to try and make sure there weren't any nests in the fire," aww, thinking to save the baby... flying... thi--
"Sometimes they survive, and that ain't a good thing," he coughs. Okay, so much for dramatic cute baby... thing... rescue in the middle of a giant hellhole.
At this point, the little gray thing that frightened him so has long since taken off, which he appears to acknowledge given he doesn't seem particularly tense about it in spite of mounting injury, grievous burns, and a touch of smoke inhalation. (At least he's coughing, which is a reasonably normal human response.)
"They're gone, they're gone, that's.... that's what matters, yep," he says as he staggers and limps along over to pick up the reddened newspaper that is probably barely legible now (and likely not a good idea to touch, what with how many things out there really have a taste for human blood).
"You're... you're gonna want to clear out before they all come looking to see what happened," he waves a hand out to the entity that so far has just been chanting about destructive urges, "vampire birds. Don't mess with those! Persistent, them. The more well-traveled... the more they want to get you!"
...It's a dubious claim.
"Watch out there, all right?" He waves goodbye as he starts to take off about as far as he can go. Adrenaline seems to be filling in the gaps where reason and logic have continued to fail even in far better times.
...
What next to destroy?
COMBATSYS: Rust has left the fight here.
> ///////////////////// ]
|=======\=------\1 [E] Naerose
The mask stands still for a moment, having set the tree to blaze at least somewhat and simply stares in cold silence at the reaction Rust gives. He's still alive. He's in fact getting away and the danger of the birds is still ignored. Actually he's quite fast. She might follow, in fact she does, but slowly, it's a relentless lumbering step which will no doubt find a distraction in someone else who happens to be in her path along the way. When you sweep the floor, you don't sweat the things that are pushed ahead if you're sweeping in that direction. This man.. He would just be taken care of later then. The mask was okay with this. It thus continued it's quest of destruction.
COMBATSYS: Naerose has ended the fight here.
Log created on 11:36:18 04/26/2015 by Rust, and last modified on 20:02:55 04/29/2015.