Description: Frei stops by Pacific High to put up posters for the YFCC! Preston decides to test out one of the instructors, 'cause hey. They're offering free cookies.
America!
Alright, not actually America. But Pacific High's campus is probably as close to America as you're going to get in Southtown, with its wide hallways, brightly lit corridors, and expensive as hell... uh, everything. Even the student body are appropriately glamorous and toned and buff and probably have more money than God. Generally speaking, it's a tiny little island of the civilized West in this godless expanse of heathen Orientalism.
This may be why 5'6", Chinese-dressed Frei Renard, despite his freckled face and red hair, looks distinctly out of place.
As the staffer at the YFCC with the most free time of them all (damn Alma and Jiro and their careers, damn Hotaru and Mizuki and their school), the day-to-day tasks and jobs that need to be done during daylight hours frequently fall to jobless philosophical gadabout Frei. Case in point: the center's decision to try and branch out more with the schools, create some buzz and let people know about the space. It's there to be used, after all. Thus armed with a bunch of flyers, a small plastic box of thumbtacks, and a :D smile, he has trundled off to the area schools to do some on-the-ground marketing.
Right NOW, he's in one of the main halls of Pacific, standing next to a bulletin board and carefully positioning a letter-sized poster talking about YFCC classes and events, pushing in a thumbtack with deliberate precision.
Meanwhile, Pacific students are starting to gather at the sight.
Frei is short and dorky. They are wealthy teenagers.
Oh, dear.
The children do indeed gather, speaking in a multitude of dialects as they chatter about the little Asian fellow who's putting something up on their notice board. Not all of it is very nice, the affluent have a way of looking down their noses, even if they're generally in Southtown to study the local culture.
And what a prime chance it is to study this culture, what with Frei Renard right there in front of them.
"What the fuck's goin' on here?" a rather gruff British voice says from the rear of the crowd. It's easy to pick him out; he's the one who stands head and shoulders above the rest, and there's a wooden implement slanted across his shoulders. Quick inspection may reveal it as a giant paddle; closer would show it to be an oar.
"Here, get outta my way," the voice adds.
But protest rises. "You're taller than meeeeeeeee--eeee!" And it's followed by a muted thud.
In short order, Preston Alistair Wellington the II, known somewhat for being the Junior League champion that, if ground talk is true, is making a comeback, squints down at the bulletin board. "Well what the bloody 'ell are we all lookin' at, eh?" His gaze then shifts lower still.
"We all starin' at the pipsqueak, is that it?" That oar comes off of the Brit's shoulder, the butt landing on the floor as his hand slides across the shaft. "Look fellas, if ya that interested in starin' at a fellow in bloody Asian clothes, just try walkin' outside the bloody school for a change. Christ."
Clearly unimpressed, but clearly not speaking directly to Frei either. He's quite the charmer.
It's very difficult to get under Frei's skin, all things considered, but that doesn't necessarily mean if you sit there right next to him and call him a pipsqueak that he's not going to *notice*. The big advantage is that, unlike, say... Tran... Frei will not leap on you like an enraged wolverine, looking to claw your face off. Besides, he's still carrying an armfull of posters and that box of thumb tacks, with his back to the crowd.
The commotion does get his attention eventually, once he's got the poster hung, and turning around he blinks to find Preston standing right there. So he looks up. And... up. One auburn eyebrow goes up in surprise. Even if the kid wasn't a veritable giant, the oar is a little unusual too. Of course, there's also the Greek chorus of Pacific student onlookers horseshoed around them, and that is confused. Who can tell where people are in a room like this where everyone's voices echo?
What do you do in this scenario?
A) Panic
B) Flip out and kill someone
C) Musical number
D) Promote the YFCC
Beaming like a total buffoon, Frei grabs the poster with both hands and holds it before him like a badge. "We would love to have you at the Young Fighter's Community Center! Fun for all! I myself teach a very popular class on tai chi!" he lies smoothly. When the students doubtless don't seem to take much interest, he looks back at Preston for a moment, and then at everyone else. "We... have cookies!"
After his repeated encounters with Tran, Preston would be more likely to describe him as an annoying badger than a wolverine; being this tall does tend to save one's face from clawing, after all.
All the same, he's left squinting down at Frei as the little red-haired man starts blathering on about some center he's from. "Youth fightin' center huh?" he echoes the words, his empty hand lifting to rub at his jaw. "Free cookies, huh?" he goes on to add, a definite deal sealer.
One of the youths nearby opens his mouth though; "Yeah, Preston loves his cookies!"
WHAM. The sound of an oar striking someone in the face. The youth, at the rear of the horseshoe of potential, goes down for the count. The oar is reeled back in to once more rest on the floor. Preston doesn't act as though anything has happened, but the group of students take a collective step backwards as a result.
"So what's so good about ya little center there, son?" he asks, despite the clear age advantage in the favor of the shorter. His brow furrows as he stares down at Frei, hazel eyes taking on a measuring quality. "I mean, we ain't precisely the most fightin' of schools in the district, but I don't think any of us are old enough ta be needin' tai fuckin' chi just yet, ya know?"
It makes sense to Preston, and that's really all that matters.
Maybe he should have gone with 'musical number'. This has absolutely nothing to do with my watching 'Hairspray' right now. Honest.
As is obligatory for this sort of thing, the long tails of Frei's headband flutter behind him from the wind of Preston's oar flickering out into the peanut gallery just past his head, then slamming back into place. That... was pretty impressive. But what does that say? It says that Preston is JUST the sort of individual who can benefit from the healing rainbow healing that the YFCC pours out like a Care Bear-powered lighthouse. All Frei needs to do is convince him.
The giant gets an appraising look, once he makes the comment about tai chi.
Hmmm.
Then Alec Guiness' head appears in midair, looking directly at the monk, and intones: "Use the Cojones, Frei."
Rounding on Preston, the monk POINTS dramatically with one finger and BOOMS, with a diaphragmatic force that does not seem like it should be possible in that frame, "THAT'S RIGHT. Free cookies... IF you can defeat one of our highly-trained and extremely skilled instructors! Lucky you, there happens to be one RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!"
There's no way this can fail.
"Well, now you're speakin' my language," Preston interjects the moment the talk of free cookies starts up. "I tell you what, you might even get some of these guys down there if you beat me too," he adds, perhaps suggesting that he's one of the stronger fighters present there at Pacific High. That may be saying something, if it weren't for the fact that he's a character out of someone's mind.
He sweeps the oar backwards, clearing room as students duck and scatter to give the two the space they need to engage in a seemingly friendly battle. After stepping back a few paces, he turns to face Frei once more, hazel eyes calculating.
The oar is then lifted, slanted across his shoulders, as he gestures with his free hand. "You even get to start the festivities, since I've got the home field advantage." It's a gracious offer from Preston, whose features slide into a definite smirk. He's brimming with confidence, no doubt about it.
The crowd itself seems to be in the midst of taking bets too, as people make their way offering odds, collecting money and handing out gambling tabs. If any of the more prominent faces of the school were present, they'd likely intervene.
Good thing they're not.
"Whenever you're ready, son. Show me what this tai chi of yours can do."
COMBATSYS: Preston has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Preston 0/-------/-------|
There's a moment where Frei processes that the massive man with the oar just accepted his challenge. Oh, *hell*. "Note to self," he murmurs, handing the posters and thumbtacks to someone in the crowd who isn't a total jerk. "Kill Alec Guiness." It's a perfectly innocent comment. After all, Alec Guiness is already dead.
But cookies are at stake and there is no greater wager in the history of fighting! No, not even the Jin Scrolls of Immortality. Look what that got 'em. Plus the guy's even offering him first shot. When in the world has anyone been so gracious? Sure, he's a murderous, thuggish-looking giant with a hair trigger temper, but hey.
"That's right nice of you," Frei says, tacking on a :D. He is so dead.
Shaking out his hands, Frei tries to center himself. "Well... the honor of the YFCC is at stake, so I guess I'd better make a good showing. Good luck!" And then he's driving forward, snapping out a hand for Preston's arm. This is about as much 'real' tai chi as an improvisational fighter like Frei uses as he attempts to turn and shift Preston off-balance with a twist of the wrist, sending him to the floor. Of course, there is the minor fact that the monk's palm crackles with violet lightning as he does so... and if he can keep that grip, it discharges into Preston's body with a satisfying bug zapper sound.
COMBATSYS: Frei has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Preston with Medium Throw.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Preston
All that talk of killing Alec Guiness, or more aptly the vague muttering that Preston hears, earns Frei a significant squint of his eyes. The Brit's now thinking that he's dealing with a crazy. Note to self, he mentally notes; have a chat with campus security to keep these crazy damn locals off the lawn.
Regardless, the fight is slated to begin and begin it does -- rather violently, as it turns out. In short order, the Brit finds himself yelled somewhat like the big solid oak he is; his wrist is grabbed, but his attempt to get the block in and grab Frei's own isn't fast enough. A moment later he's down on his knees, sliding away from the thrower.
"Huh," he sounds the word, getting back to his feet, giving his half-numb arm a shake from the zap of lightning that went into it. "I get the feelin' you're usin' more than just tai chi there, son," he adds as he rounds back on Frei. His feet don't stop moving.
Retaliation proves swift, as he utilizes the full range of the oar. It barrels forward, a thrusting spear-like stab for the shorter man's middle. And should Frei be unlikely enough to catch the spear in the belly, he can expect to meet the roof of the hallway before falling back to the floor!
COMBATSYS: Frei interrupts Bunting Tosser from Preston with Kouen no Tsurugi.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Preston
Despite being born into a family of weapon-users, Frei isn't an expert in fighting people with weapons. In fact, it's one of his weakest points, all things considered, because his defensive style relies on a combination of guile and stupid luck, both of which are not exactly suited to the extended reach and power of a weapon in the right hands.
And Preston's weapon is barely a weapon.
The end of the oar slams into the surprised monk's stomach, eliciting a loud "OOF!" in pain and surprise. Plus the fact remains that Frei weighs next to nothing by comparison. Lifting him up shouldn't be hard at all... if he's inclined to stay where he is. In fact, as Preston heads *up* to squish Frei against the ceiling, the monk presses against the oar with both hands. Sometimes, being light is a *benefit*.
As he's about to smack the sky, the monk does a sudden handstand on the top of the weapon and drives his feet into the ceiling... and everything stops dead. Letting go, he inverts himself and flips down off the ceiling, dropping an axe kick right at Preston's shoulder... which indeed bursts into a crescent of scarlet flame in the process. Yes indeed, Frei has hidden depths! Sort of.
Landing in a crouch (and rubbing at his wounded tummy), he nonetheless has the wherewithal to smile. "Tai chi is merely the gateway to true harmony of the mind and body." Man, this stuff is EASY if you pretend you're David Carradine.
Suffice it to say, when you're expecting an opponent to go back-first into the ceiling and they instead pull off a handstand, it's a little bit of a surprise. "Ah fuc-" Preston manages, right as that flaming leg smashes down onto his shoulder. He stumbles back, one hand going off the oar, but the dreaded length of wood never clatters to the floor.
"Yeah, tai chi my fuckin' ass," he grouses, giving his head a fierce shake to clear his misconceptions of what he was going to fight here. He was anticipating an easy whalloping of some local who didn't know a lick of fighting.
He's definitely thinking otherwise know.
The oar, which is quite a weapon in the hands of someone so strong, is twirled end over end as Preston squints at Frei through the spinning bit of wood. "So tai chi clearly ain't what your little center's about then, is it, son? Why don't you tell everybody what you're really on about then."
Or better yet, why doesn't the Brit simply beat it out of the smaller man? He steps forward again, doing something very, very simple.
The oar goes up, and then it comes down, fast, for the monk's noggin.
COMBATSYS: Frei blocks Preston's Medium Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Preston
...he's pretty tough, that much is sure. However, while his offense isn't much of anything without the chi he uses to bolster it, Frei's defensive abilities are pretty well developed. It's easy to do: just get beat up a lot. There's a meaty, wood-on-flesh *THWMP* as the mighty oar comes down on Frei's outstretched arm. The monk winces in pain -- that's gonna bruise -- but he manages to keep the thing from smacking him in the jaw, which would probably do a little more than bruise.
Reeling back a step, Frei shakes out his arm and gives Preston a curious glance. What does he mean, 'what you're really on about then'. Scratching the side of his head with a finger, the monk squints one eye shut in thought. "Well... we're sort of ecclectic. I mean, Hotaru teaches kempo. Mizuki teaches fundamentals... I don't know what Alma teaches, probably how to always look good and have a perfect white smile for the camera while fighting." Maybe he is crazy. "Anyhow. We... help young fighters. Give them somewhere to train, help them with tips. We have a cafeteria! That's where the cookies are," he adds triumphantly, with a sage nod. Those cookies are delicious.
Hopping on the balls of his feet, Frei stays right where he is, gathering up his energy. That boy's oar hits hard no matter how you look at it. This fight's going to require GUILE and TRICKERY!
This may in fact be Preston's big advantage, since Frei has no guile or trickery.
COMBATSYS: Frei gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Frei 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Preston
There's a moment there where the Brit tries to simply power through the forearm block, but it's not to be. He withdraws the oar, and listens as the explanation is given. "So what you're sayin' is, you take in little kids and you give 'em a place to stay and workout? What makes you think any of us are needin' that?" They're the affluent, the Richie Rich variety of children. The equipment there on campus is likely to be stellar to say the least.
Taking a step or two back, the Brit waits to see just what all of this energy gathering is going to lead to. The oar takes on that twirl again, as he considers his options... and then settles on his best kind.
First comes the squint. Squint.
And then comes the rant. "Let me phrase it this way, your little place sounds like an absolute waste of time to any of us here at Pacific, if you catch my fuckin' drift here, son. You're wastin' your fuckin' time as well if you think you can just walk in here and impress us with a couple little twists and a little kick. Even Stan over there," and the oar stops its spin to snap out, catching the aforementioned kid right in the face, "can kick better'n that.
"And he's in a fuckin' wheelchair."
A real charmer, isn't Preston just? "So tell us, or better yet show us, what any of us could possibly learn down at ya little rundown center."
COMBATSYS: Preston gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Frei 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Preston
What.
Is Frei ever really angry? No. If he ever feels something more than mild annoyance, it typically lasts for about as much time as it takes to say "What, me angry?" before he's back to normal. But man... not only did the guy just insult the YFCC, but he did something else inexcusable.
You wanna see D:99? I mean, fireworks? FINE.
Cupping his hands to his side, the monk gathers a swirling white ball of energy, prismatic-colored tendrils of light gathering into it, his hair and headband blowing in some unseen wind as he looks at Preston with an annoyed expression. "HEY!" he shouts, before thrusting both hands forward, the 'ball' becoming a person-high shockwave of roaring chi energy trailing rainbow-colored streamers. Slow moving... but slow moving for a reason.
The rest of Frei's battle cry?
"RESPECT THE DIFFERENTLY ABLED, YOU JERK."
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Frei's Hadou Souran.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Frei 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Preston
Now that's not something Preston sees everyday. That ball is summoned into being and shot at him... as it bursts into a person-high rainbow. "What the hell is that?" the Brit questions aloud, generally figuring that it's going to hurt, but... man, is it slow.
In the time it takes to arrive at his location, he likely could have done a few things. Ironed a shirt. Done the groceries. Cooked dinner. What he ends up doing though, when it reaches him, is simply lift the oar in front of him to help cushion the blow.
The energy crackles over him, washing out the other side just as slowly, leaving a lightly-smoking Preston behind. He puffs out smoke.
"Oh I respect 'em alright, but Stan really gets on my bloody nerves, y'know?" he replies, lifting the oar to give it another tight twirl. Shaking off the cobwebs, he launches into the fray once more, drawing in close to unleash his mightiest attack of all.
His boot, right to Frei's face!
COMBATSYS: Frei endures Preston's Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Frei 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Preston
Well, that's impressive. Preston shrugs off one of Frei's stronger attacks without much of a problem, and the monk gets an indicator of just how tough the oarsman really is. However, there's no time to mull over it in a self-indulgent internal narrative because the man's foot is coming right for his face.
The monk weighs his options.
With a loud *SMACK* Preston's shoe impacts solidly on Frei's recently-broken nose. However, somewhat unusually for someone of his slight build, the short fighter doesn't budge an INCH. He stays exactly where he is. "The YFCC is about helping people realize potential," he starts, although he says it around a facefull of boot, so in fact it sounds something like "Ba wabafeefee ef abah hepah weebah reebahwah beh bahbehsha."
Then very calmly attempts to disengage Preston's foot from his face by way of making a grab for the Pacific student's leg and, if he can get it, swinging him overhead in a circle before dropping him into the floor at high speed, a burst of chi adding speed and power to the throw. It's useful for everything! Fighting, floor wax, dessert topping, you name it.
COMBATSYS: Preston interrupts Charged Throw from Frei with Queen's Regulations.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Frei 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Preston
There's a definite smirk on the Brit's face as his boot goes right into Frei's face without the older man attempting to do anything to get out of the way. The explanation, which indeed is rather muffled thanks to Preston's footwear, earns a squint.
"What was that, son? None of us heard you."
And it would seem that the YFCC recruiter is intent on getting that message across -- only, it isn't to be. Preston's leg is grabbed, but it doesn't last for long as the oar comes into play. Even as the leg pushes upwards, he slides back, detaching his foot from Frei's up with little but a mild charge of chi going into the limb. With a growl, he retaliates, and despite his clear gruff nature... the retaliation proves almost elegant.
The oar makes little sound as it travels through the oar. The first strike is for Frei's head, insult to injury, no doubt an attempt to stifle any further words from exiting that mouth. But it doesn't stop there, as he rather subtly nudges the broad blade of the weapon into the middle of his opponent.
And then strikes the most elegant of all; the sweep, a rather vicious removal of Frei's legs out from under him, to send him to the floor, where indeed the wax may truly lie.
The oar still twirling in his grasp, Preston tucks it behind his arm once more. "What was that, son?" he repeats.
There's an almost Warner Bros-esque quality to Frei -- whose outfit is just shy of a costume, really -- going up in the air and then down on his back, staring at the ceiling Preston tried to slam him into just a few poses back. "No, don't put Han in carbonite," he murmurs, dazed. "Carrie Fisher's too old for that outfit." Yeah... whatever Preston just did, it appears to have worked, more or less. That does indeed look like it stung.
But it's not exactly enough to knock him out... not yet, anyway. Pushing his hands up back behind his head, the monk kippups to his feet and brushes himself off, grinning at Preston. The boy's got a terrible attitude, but he's good fighter. That in and of itself is making the match fun. Of course, it's going to make his place of employment look bad if he can't at least break even... so it might be time to take this a little more seriously.
Which... it's Frei. How hard could that be.
Ducking forward, the monk drives at Preston and, at close range, twirls and throws out one hand. A brilliant ball of orange light, hot to the touch, suddenly blossoms at the tip of his palms, looking to sear this Chicken of the Sea to a nice golden brown. "Oh good lord, at least insult my height if you're gonna move on to trash talk, kid!" he jibes cheerily.
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Preston with Hizashi.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Frei 1/--=====/=======|=======\-------\1 Preston
The ball that glows from Frei's hand comes in for the tall Brit, who attempts to do that thing he occasionally successfully does, much to the delight of nobody but Preston; dodge it. It doesn't quite go as planned, as the ball of chi blasts into his body and out the other side.
It causes the Brit to grunt as he stumbles back a step or two, his defense momentarily wide before he snaps the door shut. "Trash talk? Please, son, you haven't even heard me start it yet," he retorts, the oar once more spinning. For all its ridiculous length, he handles it more like a staff, hinting at his true training as far as weaponry goes. As the oar spins, he steps backwards.
"You're gonna be payin' for this one if you lose," he notes. It's the only warning he gives as he brings the weapon up high -- and then slams it down into the floor underfoot!
Students dive for cover; they know what's coming. With a guttural roar, he whips the weapon upwards in an arc, sending a wave of sheer force slamming through the flooring, causing the tiling to rip up as well. Cracking down the hall, it's a rain of debris that Frei gets to deal with, along with some remarkably unsteady flooring as it continues to break apart underfoot!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Frei with Devil Seam.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Frei 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\=------\1 Preston
Now that's a first. Usually that sort of attack has some sort of chi component to it, which Frei himself is expecting... that's his area, after all. So when the shockwave itself turns out to be... basically harmless, he's sort of staring at it in confusion for a moment as the debris falls and... hits him on the head. Way to sell the defense there, Frei. It does look like it hurts, but the monk seems... confused, more than anything else.
And thus he doesn't attack. Instead he kneels down and looks at the ground, head tilted to the side, poking at it. In fact, all thoughts of Preston are basically forgotten as he tries to figure that one out. It doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, after all. "Huh."
COMBATSYS: Frei gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Frei 1/-======/=======|=======\=------\1 Preston
Twirling the oar once more, the towering brute of the Brit steps forward as Frei simply kneels down and considers the mysteries of the world. "Ah Jesus, here we go," he says as he approaches, not bothering to pick his way through the debris as he simply stamps his way forward.
The closer he gets the more speed he builds up. Ultimately, he's at a quick jog by the time he walks up, and aims to knock Frei's head right off at the shoulders with that oar. Happy Gilmore...? "Get up!" he roars.
"This isn't the time for lollygaggin', son! Get your head in the fuckin' game or you'll lose it!"
Always willing to offer advice, Preston is.
COMBATSYS: Frei interrupts Fierce Strike from Preston with Fukami Reikai.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/----===|=======\=======\1 Preston
Oh, Preston. You forgot Rule #3.
If you're not a fan of Discworld novels, Rule #3 is not to underestimate or provoke a little old man or woman, or monk in some cases. This is one of those times. In fact, there's an almost lazy stupidity to Frei's response. He doesn't even turn or get up, still looking at the path of the attack on the floor. As the Brit crashes toward him, there's yet another buildup of white/prismatic energy, around one hand only.
However, this one isn't a projectile. When the oar comes for Frei's head, he reaches up, lazily, and CATCHES it with the glowy hand. Which... hurts, for sure, but nowhere near as much as taking it to the face would. Letting go of the oar, the monk opens his closed palm; the gathering energy is released as a massive, invisible pulse of force that ripples the air and, presumably, sends Preston flying.
A few seconds later, Frei gets up and turns to where Preston SHOULD be, as if he hadn't just attacked him, and blinks. "...did you say something?"
There's a sour grunt from the Brit as his oar is stopped just short of catching the solemn Frei right in the head. It turns into a sourer grunt, swallowed up by the sudden pulse of force that slams into him.
A moment later, he's made a remarkably Preston-shaped imprint on the wall, and groggily exits it. Grimacing in obvious discomfort, if not outright pain, he gives his head a severe shake. Blood trickles down his shaved head, and his school uniform, what he wears of it anyway -- mostly the blazer -- is in tatters.
Behind him, two students groan as they also climb out of the Preston-imprint. Casualties of war.
"Well I'll put it this way," Preston begins, only to spit blood. Something for Rust to clean up later. "If that's tai chi, then sign me up for some fuckin' lessons.
"But that ain't tai chi, and I don't like the cut of your gib."
With that, he leaps for Frei, spinning in the air with the oar held wide. Students duck in terror, screams filling the hallway as bodies fling to both sides, allowing the Brit the perfect entrance through the crowd to land but a stride away from his opponent.
And his revolution completes, the oar snapping out with the blade held wide as he aims to make Frei exit the school in a very, very violent fashion!
COMBATSYS: Frei blocks Preston's Man Overboard!.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Frei 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Preston
Whoa damn.
The resulting clash of forces is, in a word, zomgepic. Preston's swing, like the thunderbolt of Zeus, roars through the air like an incoming typhoon, debris and posters (and possibly people) swirling in its path like an angry hurricane washing in from the sea. And as it heads toward Frei, the monk throws both arms in front of his head and hopes for the best... which results in the eject_ok blow smacking into his guard with a displacement of air from the impact that blows down the hallway in both directions. Frei, for his part, is forced backwards along the floor, the force of the blow kicking up floor tiles as he makes a groove in the lobby.
But it's not enough to bring him down. Not yet, anyway.
Say what you want about Frei Renard, the man is *resilient*... and he's prepping more of his tai-chi-sans-tai for a counterattack, twin orbs of blue-white energy swirling in both hands as he heads back toward Preston. Flinging his arms forward, the monk hurls both icy spheres at the Pacific student, the two aiming to crash together into a massive burst of ice. He is a seaman, after all.
You knew that joke was coming, shut up.
Over the roar of the attack, Frei shouts back: "What IS a gib, anyway?!"
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Preston with Hyoushou Rengeki.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Frei 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Preston
There's a growl as Preston feels the resistance to his swing, the clear fact that a defense was successful instead of the sickening whallop of wood on flesh. He goes back to twirling his oar, ignoring the blood that runs from his body damage, waiting for what's obviously going to come.
More projectiles.
With a derisive shake of his head, the Brit attempts an evasion to little effect; the ice ball hits him, knocking him back until he's resting against the wall once more. "Yeah, this is gettin' pretty old," he notes.
And summoning what he's got left in the tank, he aims to finish this much the same way he started it.
The oar whistles through the air as he stretches to full reach, this time aiming to knock Frei right in the face with the butt of the oar, and send the YFCC recruiter spiraling backwards!
Either way, he's sinking down to one knee even as he launches the strike, bound to end up on at least one of them.
COMBATSYS: Preston can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Frei 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Frei just-defends Preston's Bunting Tosser!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Frei 0/-------/--=====|
So as we were once, so we are again. The oar swings for Frei's stomach, but on the second attempt he's ready for it. In fact, he's so ready for it he does his previous handstand defense before the thing can even touch him, doing a one-handed upside-down hold on top of the weapon for a moment before flipping down to the ground gracefully, sketching a quick bow. Without harm, even energized by the quick display of prowess! Yes, we have given some thought as to why JD restores reserve. Behold the fruits of our research.
Walking over to where Preston is kneeling, Frei ducks down and gives him a genuine smile. "You're really strong. There's something refreshingly straightforward about someone who just hauls off with a weapon and lets it do the talking." Tired of being standing, he slumps down on the ground, sitting there like a little kid... and with the youthful features and freckled face, that's not a far leap to make.
Reaching behind his head with both arms, Frei gets a thoughtful look. "Tell you what. If you come visit us and see what the center's there for, I'll still give you the free cookies. Fair?"
Drinking in some revitalizing air of his own, Preston seems more interested in simply getting back to his feet. Which, the moment Frei sits down, he attempts to do, grumbling all the way up.
By the time the offer is made, he's successful, groggily leaning against his oar. "The only reason I'll be comin' down there is to give you another taste of wood, but I get the feelin' you might like that a little too much," he says, leaning on his other crutch; being offensive verbally.
With a shake of his head, he steps away, room made for him by the already dispersing crowd. But Frei's mission may well have been somewhat successful; the kids murmur about the center, and that flyer remains on the bulletin board.
COMBATSYS: Frei has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:59:03 11/20/2007 by Preston, and last modified on 01:20:09 11/21/2007.