Description: The Salvation Army is having quite the shindig in the middle of Paris, France. A representative of Metro City's... charitabe branch, Bred Iron, is present and collecting some donations. As it so happens, Vince LaRose is passing through Paris on his way to Strolheim when he spots the opportunity to help a good cause. Only when Bred starts making things awkward and questionable, Vince becomes hesitant... and Bred becomes angry. Witness a true showing of noble indignance as the two suddenly square off, partially while on horseback! (Advisement: Winners don't use drugs.) (Caution: Bad case of the munchies involved.)
In Paris, France, at a large convention center, is the International Salvation Army Convention. Salvation Army representatives all over the world are here, to trade information and deals on cheap clothing and church clothesbins. From Metro City is a perhaps unusual choice. You see, the Salvation Army in Metro City is controlled by none other than the Mad Gear gang, one of the holdovers from Belger's days that has gone unseen by Mayor Haggar.
Bred Iron stands in a suit and tie outside the convention center, ringing a bell and smoking what smells like a marijuana joint, probably laced with Raid or embalming fluid. There's a basket next to him, people putting money in as they pass. "Man, this here's some lucrative space!" he drawls like an idiot hick.
Vince is on a journey to Germany, for he has been called to the Strolheim Tournament. Imagine! Him, in a castle! Sure, Vince has been in one or two in his lifetime, but this one has a bit of a reputation - and one he plans to integrate as his own for being a champion warrior. He's had some curious encounters in Japan, ranging from those beneficial to those giving him an injury. He's since healed and in good traveling condition. And to traverse France? A simple car, bus, or train ride won't suffice. Vince is mounted atop a resplendent white stallion with saddlebags, cape and feather in his hat ruffling in the Paris breeze.
For the time being, Vince has no idea where he's wound up. He knows what city he's in, without a doubt. But what he isn't for certain is what exactly is going on. And as luck would have it, the relatively large Bred happens to be the one Vince draws his steed alongside. The bright sun hitting his hat causes a shadow to be cast along his visage, perhaps lending to something of a romanticized Medieval look beyond what the attire and vehicle accomplish on their own.
"Excuse me, Sir," Vince says politely. "What is going on here? Why the crowd?"
Bred turns around and looks up, squinting through the sunlight around the man on the horse. He takes a hit of his joint, and grins up at the man. He's either a psychopath, or some rich fop. "Why, it's a charity event, buddy! Are yew aware of how much th' Salvation Army helps underprivileged children around th' whole wide world? And our free clinics for the homeless an' psychotic? Why, I reckon if yew donate enough to this here most vital of causes, then why, we'd have to name somethin' after yew!"
The very distinct scent of... some strange cigarette hits Vince's nose, and it wrinkles in a bit of distaste. He never liked the smell of pipes, cigars, or cigarettes. And this one smells specifically rotten. Funky, in fact. But Vince maintains his manners.
"Ah, the Salvation Army? Truly?" Despite the horrid smell, a cheerful smile touches to Vince's lips. "I could spare something, I'm sure..." He begins to twist over and pilfer through his pockets.
Bred Iron grins widely as Vince digs into his pockets. "Excellent. Do yew got a checkbook?" He takes another long drag on the joint, before tossing it underfoot and stomping it out. "I'm sure a big spender like yew can do a lot of good back in Metro City!" His Cheshire grin increases, before he staggers a bit, apparently really high.
That scent somehow is -more- pungeant than before. Odd, that. Vince's nose gives a brief wiggle in contempt at the smell, but he maintains a pleasant smile. 'Til a checkbook is mentioned. That seems a bit... forward. Distastefully forward. But the poor man sounds like he's from the country, so Vince can let that slide.
"Ah.. for as good a cause as I'm sure it is, I must maintain something for myself. Supplies are necessary, after all," says the noble a little hesitantly, pausing in his search for money or wallet.
Bred Iron steps forward and puts a hand on the horse. "This here's a mighty fine animal yew got here, mister. One of my uncles had a mighty fine horse farm when I was growin' up." He sighs wistfully, gazing off into the distance, bell in hand. "Too bad they took him away to prison after he touched mah foster sister."
Whoa, T-M-I! Vince doesn't even know this person! The stallion itself rears away from the hand a bit, growing somewhat unsteady. "Easy, Sir," says Vince. "A bit over-abundant on information. I'm sorry about your farm and.. foster sister.."
Bred Iron smiles up at Vince. "Oh, don't worry, I was only with that family fer three months. They moved me after foster Pa started knockin' me around. Yew know, that's the third time it happened. The damn nutcases in Louisiana, am I right?" In Bred's dimwit drug addled state, he's easily blowing this chance at a payoff.
"Ah.. I.. suppose..," Vince says awkwardly. And that scent! It's awful! It's all but permeating the area at this point, and making Vince really antsy for some reason. "What are you representing, exactly, again?," he asks a little skeptically. This guy is really putting Vince ill-at-ease, and his hand starts to withdraw from his pocket.
"Why, th' Metro City branch of the Salvation Army! Y'know, th' city with that dang jerk mayor. Th' one with the mustache and th' fists," Bred Iron explains. He rings his bell at a passerby, and the passerby puts a dollar bill in the basket. o O ( Lousy prick, that's all?) Bred thinks to himself.
Vince furrows his brow at the man and starts to shake his head. "Well.. Metro City's mayor has done a fair amount of good for his city," Vince protests calmly. "He cleaned up the gang activity rather adequately. Wouldn't you say?" He's starting to feel a bit peckish, besides the irritating scent lingering in the air, so he's attempting to politely duck out at this point.
Bred Iron shakes his head. "It ain't the case. Did yew know he takes campaign money from th' negros in th' city? The orientals, too! He's makin' it harder to be an independent business man with the taxes on small business, and you can't get meth anymore! It's really a terrible situation."
The mention of meth just gets a massive frown from Vince. "I.. would suppose that's a good thing. That drug ruins people, you know." Vince, now abandoning propriety, draws his stallion a bit away from the Salvation Army worker. "I believe you've work to return to, and I've a journey to continue..."
Bred blinks at this, his smile disappearing. "Yew...Yewr just leavin'?!" He growls, dropping his bell. "Yew piece of slime, it's fer the children!" He pulls out a bowie knife from his jacket, jabbing it in the air. "Yew gimme five hundred bucks an' I won't kill that nag yer ridin'!"
"Excuse me!," says Vince, quite accosted by this. He draws his cape back, revealing a row of long rosette stilettos settled along his hip. "You'll do no such thing, and I strongly advise you stay your distance. It apparently isn't for children - it's likely for your drug addictions. My money will go to a -real- charity, thank you."
Bred Iron is enraged at this. "What?! Real charities?! I'm out here, FER THE CHILDREN, and yew say we ain't a real charity!? You rat fink bastard!" He leaps forward, attempting to jab his big bowie knife into the horse's neck. "That's it, I'm gonna take yew down a notch!"
COMBATSYS: Bred has started a fight here.
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Bred 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Vince has joined the fight here.
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Vince 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Bred
All the signs are there. All the indications. This man is unstable, and very unwilling to back down. So naturally, he's going to attack. It's with this foresight that Vince reacts in a timely manner. One of the rosettes are drawn in a flash and in the air even faster, the blade aimed to slice across Bred's wrist before his knife strikes the horse. Hopefully that will suffice in disarming the man, or at the very least, make him abort his assault.
COMBATSYS: Bred blocks Vince's Sudden Fling.
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Vince 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Bred
Bred's hand snaps out, catching the rosette before it strikes his wrist, but cutting his hand. He discards it, but the horse is saved. For now. "Yew're fightin' with roses? Don't tell me yer queer too!" He flings his knife at Vince, the big bowie knife flipping end over end at him. People nearby run for their lives, as the head of the Salvation Army watches with a frown. That's the last time Metro City gets invited to the convention!
COMBATSYS: Vince dodges Bred's Arkansas Toothpick.
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Vince 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Bred
Vince's mobility, however, is really something when mounted on a horse. As the knife zips towards him, he dips back and rolls with his shoulder to the side, spinning in a clean evasion of the weapon. One boot removes itself from the stirrup of the horse in the motion, and as he rolls off the saddle, his other boot leaves the other stirrup.
Now standing at the horse's side opposite Bred, Vince springs into the air. His left hand sets to the horse's saddle to vault himself with a little extra height. While in flight, Vince's right hand draws the rapier sheathed at his side - which suddenly ignites in a wreath of swirling gray energy. The weapon is thrust fiercely towards Bred's torso, and the swirling energy draws along the edge of the weapon to form into a tipped lance, surging out to create an entry wound - and the blade driving behind it to make matters worse. The lancing energy, however, is more likely to pierce out his back as well.
COMBATSYS: Bred endures Vince's Venteuse.
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Vince 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Bred
Bred Iron roars, "I will /not/ be denied!" He charges forward, the sword going through him. With the sword in him, he aims to grab Vince off his horse and lift him into the air, before swinging backwards and hopefully slamming Vince into the ground. "Uwwhaa! I GOT THE POWAH!" he cries, blazed out of his mind and dumber than usual.
COMBATSYS: Vince blocks Bred's Gutwrencher Suplex.
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Vince 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Bred
Vince, already off the horse, is more or less caught right in the air with the suplex. Vince lets out a surprised cry, but he regains his senses mere moments before hitting the ground. The swordsman curls into a ball and tucks his head in so as not to take the full brunt of suplexing force, and pop right out of his grasp upon impact. Along with this, Vince's blade is drawn free of Bred's torso.
Vince takes a second to whip off his hat, give it a shake to unflatten it before setting it back atop his head. The blade, then, is whisked to scatter some droplets of blood. "You're -mad-," Vince says coolly. "I'll not suffer your attitude."
The stallion seems to get a clue and trots a good distance away, while several citizens start to watch with wide-eyed wonder. Some take ahold of the stallion to keep it calm.
Vince, meanwhile, closes in on Bred again. His rapier whirls in a smooth moulinet before him before driving in towards his torso with a firm stab. "The sooner you yield, the sooner this can end!"
COMBATSYS: Bred fails to interrupt Medium Strike from Vince with The Big Easy.
> Determined Hit! <
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Vince 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Bred
The blade stabs Bred right in the chest, sliding between his ribs and poking his lung. He coughs up blood and falls onto his back, wheezing as he backs up on the ground away from his assailant. "Yew...Yew...Yew jes stay back!" he coughs. "I wouldn't wanna hurt yew now! Yew might git me riled!"
Vince draws his blade back with that strike, and he settles into a standard fencing stance with a high guard. "You threatened my mount, and you attacked me. Your only choice in this situation is the flee, miscreant," challenges the young noble.
"So be gone!" Vince dashes forward, blade flashing through the air to slice across Bred's torso from right hip to left shoulder.
COMBATSYS: Bred blocks Vince's Quick Strike.
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Vince 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Bred
Bred lifts his arms to block the saber, a cut across his arms that hacks his black suit jacket open. "That's it, yew rat bastard!" He climbs up to his feet, then grabs at Vince, attempting to lift him into the air, before tossing him into the convention center wall. "I'm gonna tear yew a new one, I reckon!"
COMBATSYS: Bred successfully hits Vince with Quick Throw.
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Vince 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Bred
Vince wasn't rightly expecting Bred to do anything -but- run at this point. His icy blue eyes widen as his tunic is grabbed, and he's slung against the wall with a quiet yelp. The noble banks off the wall and drops to a knelt position, eyes narrowed. "If that is your choice...," he murmurs.
Vince's left hand suddenly lifts into the air, fingers splayed. A shaft of light sparkles briefly, and an image rapidly comes into view. As it draws near, it unleashes an avian shriek. Less than a second later, and a falcon comes into view - only gray in color with opaque eyes of onyx. The talons are spread and held forward as the bird curves in the air, angling in on Bred's head in a collision course. Hit or miss, the avian swoops back into the air in a wide arch, searing into the blue sky.
COMBATSYS: Bred endures Vince's Spirit Falcon.
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Vince 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Bred
The falcon rips into Bred as he stands up, and he charges through it, smacking it away with a meaty, steroid pumped hand. "I'm gonna rip yew apart, fancy boy!" He charges at Vince, unleashing three fast jabs with his right fist, stepping forward with each punch. His hand blurs as he strikes, attempting to pummel Vince into submission.
COMBATSYS: Vince just-defends Bred's Ragin' Cajun!
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Vince 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Bred
An eyebrow lifts in brief confusion as his accosting enemy seems to just headbutt his way through the avian before it makes its way back up to the sky. A few feathers seem to have been knocked loose though, which drift to the ground, only to evaporate into mist before touching.
Vince, in the meantime, springs to his feet and lifts his rapier into a high guard again. The three strikes blur towards Vince, but he dips left and right to cleanly evade the first two punches, and the third is deflected with a firm, swift strike with the flat of his sword. Vince opts to utilize the close range, drawing his blade back to his left side. The rapier is then sliced out in an arc with a truly swashbuckler-worthy, "HAH!"
Though in the wake of the blade, a paper thin sheet of smoky gray wispy energy is formed. As the blade reaches its end point, the energy sweeps out to slice further into his attacker.
COMBATSYS: Bred blocks Vince's Sweeping Breeze.
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Vince 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Bred
Bred raises his arm and knocks the sword aside, leaving a jagged cut on his forearm. "Yew little rat fink..." He growls at Vince, bloody and dripping on the ground, as ooze leaks from his mouth due to his deflating lung. He swings a hard punch at Vince's face, attempting to cold cock him out of this fight. "Yew sure got a pretty mouth. Yew're lucky we ain't in the joint!"
COMBATSYS: Vince dodges Bred's Strong Punch.
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Vince 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Bred
Thrown a little off-kilter from the deflection, Vince makes a disdained grunt. The big meaty fist that comes blaring at his face is the next big obstacle to avoid, and the spry, lithesome swordsman weaves low and to the side to avoid being struck. The fist sails just past his cheek and right shoulder. With Bred's arm still extended, Vince's left hand thrusts upwards as if making an open-palmed strike against Bred's face akin to an eagle claw. His hand, however, falls too short to actually strike him. Instead, the very air just a few inches separate from his hand solidifies into five streaks of gray, aimed to lacerate across his face.
COMBATSYS: Vince successfully hits Bred with Aero.
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Vince 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Bred
Bred gets slashed across the face, and stumbles backwards. Bleeding badly, he looks like a wreck, but is still standing. "Yew...Are...Dead...Got me?" He leaps into the air with a jump kick, that he doesn't land. He lands on his ass, and passes out, gurgling and wheezing.
COMBATSYS: Bred has reached second wind!
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Vince 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Bred
COMBATSYS: Vince blocks Bred's Bayou Bounce.
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Vince 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Bred
The kick, however, isn't entirely something Vince can shrug off. It's still a threat of sorts. Rather than attempt to weave out of the way, Vince simply turns aside to present his shoulder to Bred, which takes the force of the hit. He's stumbles back a half step, jaw tightening from the impact... but Bred looks worse off, on his duff and making gurgly noises.
Vince isn't going to take any chances, though. This guy is a bit insane, and he didn't much care for the threat he was given. So the swordsman moves right back in and suddenly leaps into the air in a backflip, right boot extended to strike the ruffian on the chin and hopefully knock him back - or out, either way - with a flashkick.
COMBATSYS: Vince successfully hits Bred with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Vince 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Bred
Bred gets stomped on by the foot, the force of the shot waking him up. "RRRAGH!" he screams as he surges to his feet, attempting to plant his shoulder into Vince's gut with a spear tackle, to take him to the ground. "YEW DON'T KNOW WHO YER MESSIN' WITH!" he screams, spittle flying from his mouth along with spatters of blood.
COMBATSYS: Vince blocks Bred's Strong Throw.
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Vince 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Bred
After the smooth single flip, Vince lands gracefully on his feet. Only... the attacker is back up again, despite rational logic. "You're.. outrageously stubborn...," he mutters.
And in comes the spear tackle. Vince tucks his left arm against himself, taking the majority of the force. It is still sizable enough to lift the lightweight off his boots and gets driven back - though he manages to land on his feet in a stagger back for a few steps.
"Alright, you've had your fun." Vince suddenly springs back in to close the distance with Bred, and his sword flashes into motion. It begins with a single, lightning fast stab aimed for the torso. Then another. And another. The stabs become a blur of motion, his arm vanishing from sight and the blade disappearing as well, save for but a flicker of silver in the sunlight. The puncture wounds range in location from leg to head, and number far too many far too quickly to keep track. The horrible technique comes to a sharp end with one final stab, more punctuated than the others and backed with more power, intended to not only make a grievous injury but to launch his foe back from him.
COMBATSYS: Bred endures Vince's LaRose Thorns.
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Vince 0/-------/-----==|=======\=====--\1 Bred
Bred Iron screams in pain as he's stabbed all over, blood splattering onto the pavement. He stumbles, falling onto his knees. Barely conscious, he sees his bowie knife on the ground...Grabbing it, he surges to his feet, charging at Vince and attempting to stab him in the gut. "RAAARGH!"
COMBATSYS: Bred can no longer fight.
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Vince 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Vince parries Bred's House of the Rising Sun!
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Vince 0/-------/----===|
The final stab was supposed to be that. A finalizing stab. Bred wasn't supposed to continue after that... but he is, anyway. The tenacity of this man is outstanding, if not a bit in the severely self-detrimental field.
But the bowie knife. The bowie knife is a very pertinent threat. Icy blue eyes narrow, and the moment Bred's arm enters his range, Vince's blade whisks in another moulinet - this time with the flat of the blade catching the man's wrist. With the full circular motion, Vince redirects the knife down to the ground, along with Bred in all his momentum. Judging by the force of power backing his lunge, that knife may very well penetrate the concrete sidewalk.
Whether it does or does not, the young noble shifts a few steps back from Bred. His right hand lifts a bit, angling the tip of his rapier down on his attacker threateningly.
"Your clumsy attempts are fruitless against Rose Dansant. Are you ready to yield?"
COMBATSYS: Vince takes no action.
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Vince 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Vince has ended the fight here.
Bred stabs the concrete, before vomiting up dark red blood. He rolls onto his back, then passes out...For the final time?
"Tch," Vince scoffs. "I'll take that as your 'yes'."
Perhaps a bit callous, but certainly far from unheard-of from one of Vince's family. He turns his back to the larger, older man and sheathes his rapier. A rosette is then retrieved from his belt and cast over his shoulder.
"Take that as a token reminder to always think twice before accosting a LaRose."
The rose stiletto's tip sticks in the concrete beside Bred, upright.
Feeling his point has been made and that he's wasted enough time in this stench-ridden locale, Vince turns to retrieve his stallion from the onlookers. First, he's off to get some munchies or something. Then? He'll continue the rest of the way to Germany. It's best he avoid Nantes and his family for now - word of this is bound to reach them, and he's not sure whether they'll agree with his course of action or not. Or how the news will even spin it.
Given a moment's pause to consider these things, Vince sets his left foot into a stirrup. He then swings himself onto the stallion, and nudges it with his heels to start on its way again.
Log created on 21:22:08 11/09/2008 by Vince, and last modified on 01:57:13 11/10/2008.