Description: Target: NESTS/Shadaloo occupied Gedo High reconnaissance. Obstacle: Robe and mask clad scythe user. Summary: Her work as a Syndicate Scout takes Ayame to Gedo High to try and figure out what the next move by the invasion force is going to be. Her spying job is interrupted by a mysterious figure paid and sent to deliver a message to the girl. Ultimately, Ayame might not be the one getting toyed with here.
The affairs of the invaders are Ayame's business. Where are they moving throughout the city? Where are they fortifying themselves? What roads do they have blockaded? What is their troop movement on a day by day basis? Every piece of tactical information Geese Howard needs to run his defense of Southtown can be retrieved by questioning his skilled scouts in the field.
Among them, Ayame has proven resourceful. Capable of not just observation but tactical judgement, her flawless memory was proving to be quite the valuable asset to the Syndicate. And right now they needed all the help they could get. Time and time the strawberry blonde made her way about Southtown, delivering messages, intercepting intel, dealing with the occasional small group...
But things had been quiet lately. It was as if the entire city was gathering its breath for the storm to come. The streets were calm, devoid of any signs of movement besides the small block-securing forces the invaders had in position. No attacks of significance since the power grid had been rendered unstable by an attack on the power plant some days prior. Lights would flicker on and off throughout the night and only those with generators could count on consistant energy at any time...
Which is why Gedo was still lit up even in the dead of night. Ayame is there, ducking on the roof of one of the buildings surrounding the courtyard. She was familiar with the location. It was where she tackled one Tenma Kiryuu some weeks ago. And right now it was her place to spy on the fortress that Gedo had been turned into by the invading forces. Geese wanted to know why things were slowing down. What was going on? Were they preparing for a major offensive? Had something disrupted their plans and forced a tactical shift?
Ayame hopes to find out. Sent into the heart of the forces, she crouches on the edge of the roof. This corner of the courtyard is the darkest, affording her some amount of cover to observe through a pair of spyglasses, a device able to pick up sound vibrations through nearby glass windows. She's perfectly still other than to move her head about to aim her spyglasses, listening to conversations through her headphones, lying prone on the roof, propping herself up with her elbows. Just a matter of finding the right conversation to figure out what the game is...
The city had been growing quiet, gaining its breath for one final push. The Faceless One, however, had not. The entity had moved about streets, stole around the soldiers that patrolled, sought the ones who would speak less with bullets, more with anxious whispers to be away from the Faceless. They'd been few, and their tellings had been but merest conjecture, tiny slivers of incomplete knowledge. 'Tell me,' the Faceless Demon would say. 'Where is the one with the fair hair tressed in black?'
Eventually, one knew. And eventually, spending time with the Demon, though it was by no means by choice, the anxiously whispering soul had given the Faceless more direct knowledge. Even then, it had been only a chance. A gamble, even, considering where the fair-haired one would be if the information proved correct. But the Faceless One had little time left.
The gamble, then, was in the Demon's favor this one time.
Silent steps made their way up the ladder, thickly socked feet making nary a sound they the Demon crested the roof. Ornate robes of gold whispered upon the metal of the roof's catwalk as the Noh Demon stole onto the stage where this play would be acted out. Wild, demented flame-red hair formed a mane around an angry yet wooden face, with someone else's soulless eyes filling in for the Demon's.
The Faceless One stared down at the prone-lying girl from behind. It made no motion. In one hand, it held a massive, ornate scythe, the blade collapsed along the handle, allowing only one gloved hand to lift it. The other gloved hand held the Demon's face apart from the man's for a brief moment, glimpsing of solemn, empty green eyes. Then the mask was fitted into place, and the illusion was complete. The man was no more, but only the Demon. The Demon dressed in gold, the Demon with the face of wood locked in a permanent expression of violent rage, the Demon with the mane of blood.
There is no overt motion, but the Demon finally announces his presence with a moderately loud *snap!* that extends the massive blade of the scythe into proper position. The scythe is lifted towards Ayame, the Demon's head tilting down as if to ask: "Will you fight?"
Were his footsteps any less soft, she would have known he was there. Not from being able to hear; as Ayame's ears are filled with the distorted chatter of wave-amplified voices. But she would have felt the roof disturbed ever so slightly as he tread toward her. As it stands, however, the silent one catches the spying girl completely off guard. It doesn't mean her reactions are slowed in the slightest, however, as Ayame immeditely rolls over, hand slipping toward a pouch affixed to one of her belts as she makes move to draw some form of defense from whatever noise it was she heard behind her. Expecting an ambush from NESTS or Shadaloo soldiers, what she lays eyes on is something else entirely.
Startled, she freezes, watching to see if this strange figure makes a move. This... was no ordinary grunt by any means. Sharp brown eyes stray over the bladed weapon in his grip, recognizing it for what it is immediately, before her attention strays back to demonic visage staring back at her. He could have attacked her, she muses. She might have had the presence of mind to get out of the path of that long ranged polearm, but maybe not. But he chose not to.
If he is NESTS... or Shadaloo... he has a strange sort of honor about him, clearly gesturing for her to take his challenge for a fight. On a rooftop. In the middle of the night. The girl doesn't move from where she lies, half-sitting up by propping herself up with her hands, her expression shifts from surprised to curious to a mask of neutrality in rapid succession. "Either you're my enemy and I don't really have a choice in the matter..." she muses, glancing to the side thoughtfully.
"Or you're not my enemy, which means I can safely ignore you and tell you to get lost." she continues to contemplate, her words slow and calculated as she spends her seconds carefully planning her next action. "Of course, I doubt you got all dressed up with that freakshow getup just to check on what my disposition would be..." She moves cautiously, lifting the headphones from off her ears and slowly placing them on the roof at her side.
"And if I told you to buzz off, you could make things difficult for me just by virtue of shouting or carrying on and drawing attention to my presence here..." She frowns faintly, eyes cast to the side. Though don't mistake that side-glance as a lack of attention. "Though I am... dreadfully curious as to what this is all about... and the only way to find out about that would be to-"
It comes without any further warning or pretense. The whole time she was talking she was positioning herself for it. Drawing her feet in a little, bending her arms, propping herself up, looking, perhaps, to be in no position from which to attack. Which is why when she makes her move, no one would blame Maeda should he be caught off guard, as Ayame shoves herself toward him, under the reach of that deadly weapon, and twists her body into a rapid sweep with both of her legs, aiming to take her challenger's feet out from under him. He may have the decency to issue her an invitation to fight. But his opponent has no such scruples!
COMBATSYS: Ayame has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Maeda has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Ayame 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Maeda
COMBATSYS: Maeda dodges Ayame's Light Kick.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Ayame 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Maeda
What Ayame thinks of as honor is maintained all throughout the girl getting startled by the Demon's appearance, all through her musings as to his nature, and even as she attacks, the Faceless One merely stands, scythe extended in menace, waiting. Had the Demon the opportunity, would he have attacked first? Or merely waited? And if the latter, why? The reasoning is lost, for even as the feet swipe inwards, towards the masked person's legs, there are no words spoken. Nothing is given away. Everything is left for Ayame to muse through on her own. And to be sure, the Faceless Demon has left much for Ayame to muse.
Even the assassin's evasion of the quick leg sweep gives away little. The Demon holds his scythe out still, but his body seems to simply shift backwards. There's hardly any sign that the Demon /moved/. ...But those ornate golden robes conceal much, even with the soft, silent steps of the masked person. Surely there was some motion to carry the entity backwards, and yet it looked like he simply floated away from the range of the feet lashing out. Still the scythe is held out. Still the ever-present violent rage of the Demon's mask is leveled at Ayame, with those eyes that are not the Demon's.
There's the space of a deep breath, and then the Demon inhales, an exaggerated motion. The scythe is drawn back in a fluid, elegant motion, then carefully spun in both hands for a full revolution, before being held out horizontally, the blade pointed into the air. And finally, the Demon speaks.
"Tonight, I am not here for your soul. I merely wish to impart a message."
And then, where 'til now the Faceless Demon's motions had been fluid, graceful, they all turn into violent energy. The scythe's blade whips down across the front of the Demon's body, spraying up a shower of sparks as the top of the blade roughly grazes over the metal catwalk. The polearm then is swept into a series of spins, before the Demon's body finally starts to follow the motion of the dancing scythe.
The Demon closes in with a few steps, all the while twirling that deadly, massive bladed weapon, the entity following its path with its body. The first strike might not even be noticed, such is how smoothly the blade lashes out from the acrobatic, twirling dance. A simple slash, then another step, another twirl, the blade making another shower of sparks as it crests across the catwalk, and another swipe. And another. And another. Each time, the swirling, chaotic scythe strikes glow brighter with an almost golden light, and should Ayame be hit with any of the scythe's slashings, accompanying the blade would be spatters of jagged rock shards, pelting her where the scythe does not.
COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Maeda's Kakeri.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Maeda
Her own motions are fluid. The lunging kick made in an attempt to sweep this enigmatic assaliant's feet out from under him does not suffer even as he steps back out of range. Continuing through with the motion, Ayame ends up in a crouch, her left arm extended, fist closed, a six inch long metal tube held in her hand, her long hair drifting into place against her shoulders and back a moment later.
She's armed, as he no doubt expected she would be. Her eyes shift from the mask to the weapon to the robes back to the mask as she continues to scan him for any telltale signs or clues regarding his purpose or intent. The mask could be distracting to some, but she merely identifies it as a defense against his face being seen or directly harmed. She'll have to see to that once she gets the upper hand. But beyond that, she doesn't stay fixated on it. How he moves, how he handles that heavy weapon; those are the questions of immediate import. She has always had a knack for unraveling styles, dismantalling attacks once she's figured out how the other fights, and exploiting any weakness in another's technique. But such strengths take a moment to process and he has the advantage of surprise on his side. And she has no idea who he is.
"My soul?" she laughs shortly, "If you /had/ come for that, you'd probably have to go away disappointed. Not much to be found." the bandit grins, staying half-crouched, the short bar in front of her, her left arm still extended. "But if it's a message you which to impart by way of scythe, then it's probably not a season's greeting, get well card, or anything else I'd be interested in hearing." Her eyes narrow slightly. "But I do want to know from whom..."
He begins to excecute his scythe dance. The speed at which he twirls the weapon is impressive, whipping up the air currents and driving dust before him. Then it has begun. A small spark of chi flashes into view near Ayame's thumb then vanishes. And with that, the collapsed staff in her hand launches out to its full length of six feet, accompanied by a hydraulic hiss.
She waited until the last moment to act but when she moves, it's with a flurry of of motion, rising up into the approaching whirlwind of blade, shaft, and debris. He's quick, but so is she. Where the blade slashes, she is not, deflecting it off with a shift of her staff, sending a small flurry of sparks flying from the collision. Time and time again, her staff is in the way, announcing her defense with a metallic resonance as the two weapons collide and the dim roof is ignited by the resultant sparks.
But holding off the scythe does not keep her safe from harm. Small stone shards slip in through her defenses, pelting the girl, leaving small cuts and grazes across her legs and arms. The whirlwind of force associated with twirling such a massive weapon leaves few defensive holes for Ayame to exploit. But that doesn't mean she won't take her shot. Seeing the shaft of the weapon is tough, even for the weapons maven, but when she acts, it can only be because she saw a potential opening...
She twists the high end of her staff down quickly between blocks, aiming to smack the blade end of the scythe downward on one of its dangerously close rotations... and with that, turn her body as she twirls in close to his side, trying to get inside his range, and smack her staff into his back as she invades his personal space. A second smack would immediately follow as Ayame tries to dig the weapon into his stomach. It seems she has an idea about how to fight against a weapon of that size... but such actions are not without risk.
COMBATSYS: Maeda blocks Ayame's Random Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Maeda
Again, wordless. Though the Demon announced its intent and purpose, it seems that this would-be messanger doesn't have many other words for the fair-haired girl.
Blade rings against staff, and yet the Demon's dancing motions never stop. It carries in, a furious whirlwind of assaulting strikes - that is, until the girl finally gets a blow in edge-wise, knocking the scythe away and off-balance. From there, she is quick to step in and try to slam her staff into the Faceless One's back, and yet, even as the scythe dips down and aside, the motion is turned into a defensive roll.
The Demon rolls its body to press against Ayame as she seeks to get inside his guard. Not a shoulder check, but simply pressing against her, and using her as a kind of stabilizer to bring his scythe back around - and meet the staff aimed for his back head on with the back of the bladed portion of the polearm. Then, with a tiny shove, the Faceless Demon is once more spinning, turning to move past Ayame, rolling to face her, and once more intercepting the staff strike on the haft of its scythe.
Both smacks of the staff impact hard enough to send shocks up the Demon's arms, rattling the bones with explosive force - the chime of metal staff upon metal scythe-haft is loud enough to rival even when the scythe was hammering against the staff only moments before. The final blow even causes the masked person to stagger back half a step, then, with a twirl of the scythe, they stabilize once more, the blade held in an odd position - haft tucked under the arm, hand holding it just below the blade, the scythe blade itself held tilted upwards, with the point facing down.
Finally, as the Faceless Demon pauses, more words come.
"The first part of the message is: 'Hello'."
Once said, the violent rage wooden-mask-wearing person moves into action once more. The blade is pushed down, the back end of the haft rising up over the Demon's shoulder - which its other hand whips up to catch. Using its own shoulder as a fulcrum, then, the Demon slings the scythe around, then twists its entire body, bringing the scythe around once more for a violent, fierce attack from above, seeking to imbed the scythe tip into Ayame - or at least the catwalk below.
COMBATSYS: Ayame counters Fierce Strike from Maeda with The Sunrise Of Broken Dreams.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Maeda
As she tries to cut his options down by getting dangerously close, Ayame has it impressed upon her just how fast this strange foe is as he rolls into a better position to keep her from finding a superior position. It seems he knows of fighting against people with weapons like hers too. She'll need to take him seriously - the scythe isn't a friendly weapon in the slightest. Her staff rings out again as it rebounds against the blade of his weapon before he's once again a flury of motion capable of rivaling her own.
The second swing is stopped, though she was anticipating it this time, starting to get a better read of his mobility and speed. She could tell he was going to defend himself in time. He staggers back and the deadly dance the two sustained for the space of a second comes to a brief pause. Ayame twirls her titanium weapon back into a defensive angle in front of her, fingers gripping her beloved staff lightly enough to allow for swift motion.
She reads his stance, studying him from toe to head, from the way his feet are positioned to the way his weapon is angled. Every detail she processes, predicting possible vectors of attack with the precision of a computer. Her calculations are cut off as he speaks, pronouncing the first part of this devil-sent message for what it is. "Oh?" she asks back. That the message isn't from a fan is abundantly clear. She isn't sure she has those anyway. But who has she provoked into hiring this guy to harass her? He doesn't seem like a low budget bully. His exotic weapon choice and skill with a heavy polearm implies intense, formal training. Who the hell trains with a SCYTHE though??
He makes his move and she follows his hands quickly. She's able to see how his style can quickly become deceiving. She didn't even predict that he'd put the weapon to use quite like that. With one smooth motion he builds up enough momentum to drive the blade home. She can't simply hope to weather an attack like that via collision of strength... something more is required!
Sucking in her breath, Ayame shifts her staff into a verticle position and slams it forward, such that the bottom end of it clangs against the catwalk and the top end... is directly in the path of the scythe's shaft such that the weapon reaches a sudden, unforgivingly jarring stop when it slams into the top end of the girl's staff with enough force to shove the bottom of it through the catwalk.
A risky move on her part, but against his ability with the long weapon, it was necessary to create the brief window she immediately utilizes by turning forward herself and planting the heel of her shoe into his stomach in order to quickly force him backward. The girl snaps her foot back quickly to avoid being an easy target, and immediately focuses on prying her staff free of the hole it's wedged into by virtue force of the collision with his descending scythe. "Yeah," she grunts, relieved that her timing didn't fail her.
"I hope this is a short message," she continues, her staff free once again and back in her grip, "Or you're going to be hard pressed to deliver it all before I'm through with you." Her expression a condescending smirk, she puts the thought of the noise this is making out of her mind. It's a base full of NESTS and Shadaloo troops, after all. But the sounds of training and practice are heard elsewhere as well. This noice might just be considered a spar not worth drawing attention to the roof if she's lucky...
The timing of the counter itself isn't so impressive. Any fighter can time something. It takes another, special kind of fighter to examine the angle of attack and determine how best to stop it cold. And more than that... the Demon's scythe is a very large, heavy weapon, something that people who are not completely comfortable with the weight of the polearm would have difficulty lifting, much less swinging it around like this masked person was. The blade was glittering and wicked, and undoubtedly the way it was sent to tear through the metal of the catwalk, was sharper than one could easily comprehend. And yet, despite the danger, Ayame stepped /forward/ into the blade's reach, all in an attempt to stop the attack. Undoubtedly, even as it succeeds and not only does the jarring, sudden stop cause the Faceless Demon to pause, almost wobbling in place (as does the catwalk!), the blade still lies a scant inch or two from Ayame's face.
There's nothing the Demon can do in retaliation. The masked person's motions were calculated so that they could recover quickly from either slicing into the catwalk, or Ayame herself. But the motion stopped cold like that is nothing short of jarring, which is exactly what the strawberry-blonde girl's intentions are. A foot lances out, brief but merciless, planting into the figure's stomach, and roughly driving him back several steps in a rather undignified motion. The scythe, once clear of the staff, drags on the catwalk, illiciting more sparks from the razor-bladed instrument of death.
Strangely, beyond the initial choked grunt of pain, and the figure holding their stomach, the very next sound out of the Faceless One isn't any snappy retort, nor an expression of further pain. It's a laugh. A short, but distinct laugh. What it could mean is uncertain, and the Demon does not clarify. Instead, the figure stands straight again, twirling the scythe around to hold it in what apparently is a natural pose to them: the scythe held just below the blade in a reverse grip with the haft of the weapon pointing towards Ayame, and the blade pointed down.
"Verily it is short. For all that is left to tell you is the sender's name. As well, to take something from you," comes the voice. It sounds male, and yet the person speaking is both disguising their voice by talking unnaturally, in older language, and in a somewhat gruffer tone. It could easily be a male, or female. Lifting its free hand, the Demon motions with the gloved fingers. "Come. We do not have much time before they notice, and I've yet to complete my task."
Seems that this person is intending on drawing it out somewhat... and yet, their intentions don't seem to be to KILL Ayame. Everything they've done up until this point completely counters that assumption. Perhaps he truly is here to simply deliver a message: one that is laced with blood.
COMBATSYS: Maeda focuses on his next action.
No stranger to sharp weapons, Ayame seems to live with a certain risky disregard for safe distance from them. The only way to fight a blade weilding opponent is to get within slashing range. But being within range of an attack and getting attacked are two entirely different things. She's fast, her reflexes sharp, her mind a dangerous, calculating psyche. If she can convince him that she can slip around his hefty weapon, she might force him to draw upon options he isn't as well suited for. Take away someone's primary option and watch then flail desperately at less ideal backups, she figures.
The laugh provokes a faint frown, "Now that's rude," Ayame notes. "Did I not kick you hard enough? I'm just getting warmed up." Her frown melts into a grin as she maintains her ready position, feet rooted, staff angled in front of her. Once again they speak, the nature of her assailant still up to some question. "Oh?" she asks once again, her grin shifting into a predator's smirk.
"I was going to suggest that if you simply told me who sent you, I would give you half the beating I have in mind for you and call it even. But if you're going to tell me anyway, I guess that deal's just plain off the table, isn't it?" She twirls her staff idly in her left hand, her right hand only touching at times as it passes by. He encourages her to attack again and Ayame's expression shifts into a knowing look. "You want to test your speed against mine, do you? You're fast, but..."
She shifts her stance slightly, her right foot forward, her left hand further back, still spinning her staff at her left side. "I have something you don't." She leans forward, clearly intending to clash with the mysterious figure once again. The titanium staff spins at blurring speeds at her side, the girl leaning a bit further. "As for my belongings - you will be taking nothing back with you." She takes in her breath. The moment is now. "Observe."
And with that Ayame charges. Her right shoulder leads, her staff weilding hand trailing. The attack comes from the left as Ayame spins into a wild, one-handed staff strike, using the momentum of her body to add power to the swing to make up for using just one arm. The trajectory seems predictable enough as if she deliberately wants for him to be able to fend off the strike in time...
The true intent would only become clear should he try to block her staff when Ayame twists to the left, her right arm swinging forward into a horizontal stab. The sound of a metallic clasp being unhinged accompanies a surge of metal slicing through the black and red cloth wrapped loosely over her right forearm. A blade - 1.5 feet in length and extremely narrow - lunges forward as Ayame tries to twist in past the demon's defense and spear him with that short sword attached to her arm.
Chi courses along the hidden blade. Ebony in color, it crackles like forked lightning as Ayame attempts to slip the insidious attack in right through the Faceless One's defenses and into his ribs. "HAH!"
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Maeda with Criminal Negligence.
The man behind the mask - one Maeda Akamatsu - has something of a similar setup to the fair-haired girl's own style. He studies people. He reads them. He examines what they do best, and what they do worst, and then seeks to slip past the strengths into the weaknesses. It isn't something he does to the same degree as Ayame. There's no calculation, no 'numbers' to his analyses. But rather, he goes by feel. The rhythm of the girl's steps. The tempo of her breathing. The fluid motions that leave only a few possible motions once they are commited to. In essence, Maeda does not calculate - he sees the flow of the dance between himself and his opponent. And to a degree, this works well, and always has for him.
For instance, when Ayame swings that staff at him with one hand, it's fairly obvious as to the why of it: so that her right hand is free to move as well. Why else would a slight, slender girl use only one hand to swing a long weapon like a staff? So to his credit, Maeda sees this, and his thickly socked feet shuffle to the side to avoid the blow. Which, in retrospect, is stupid, given his revelation. Rather than stepping back, he steps to the girl's right, where that energy-lanced blade can slam into his chest like an impossibly long needle. In through his side, slipping between two of his floating ribs, and then emerging out the back with a minor spray of blood. There's a startled, strangled gurgle of pain, but to the Demon's credit, he does not shout out.
There's a momentary pause wherein this would-be assassin stops cold for several moments. A shuddering breath later, then, and the masked person is moving once more. His free hand attempts to clamp down on Ayame's wrist, pinning her blade inside of itself for a moment. If successful with at least that, that angry, wooden face, forever frozen in an expression of sheer rage, leans towards Ayame, close enough that a soft, pained whisper can be heard between only the Demon and the girl.
"The second part of the message is: 'from Marise'."
Regardless of whether the Demon can keep his hold on Ayame's stabbing hand, its other hand holding the massive scythe is now brought to bear. The haft of the weapon tilts upwards, the blade dropping down and circling forward, so that it looks as if the Demon is holding it correctly, simply upside down. Then? The blade is shoved forward, with every intention to drive that wicked silvery half-arc INTO the small girl. Even if this misses, it matters not, for the intention is not to impale, but establish a hook: even if the Demon must 'cradle' Ayame in the crux of the haft and the blade, it would suit his purposes. From there, Ayame would be lifted up into the air, the blade likely sliding from the Faceless One's ribs in the process with another splatter of blood accompanying it (not to mention darkening those golden robes). Once in the air, the scythe would direct her over the Demon's body, then back down once more, slamming into the catwalk on the otherside.
But it wouldn't stop there. Still maintaining that hook, the Demon seeks to drag Ayame across the ground, tearing the catwalk up in the process likely, sparks and screaming metal following in its wake as Ayame is literally dragged for several feet, before once more she is tossed airborne by the scythe, leaving its 'hook'. Should this happen, the Demon would not rest even then. Bounding up onto part of the intact railing along the catwalk, then leaping from it to the domed rooftop proper, the would-be assassin springs off this, twisting in the air gracefully, the scythe brought up and twirled around, before, rather than the blade, the haft is brought into play.
Using it somewhat like a baseball bat, the Faceless One seeks to drive the length of wood into Ayame and simply crash her back into the catwalk a lot faster and harder than she would have should she have been left to fall, all with the Demon's force and even its body weight driving into her.
COMBATSYS: Maeda successfully hits Ayame with Kanawa.
Grazing Hit
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/----===|=======\====---\1 Maeda
It's a clean hit. Ayame lingers a bit too long, perhaps enjoying for a moment that success. Maybe she wants him to feel the chi coursing over the blade as long as possible. Perhaps she thinks the deep stab through the robed figure would be enough to rob him of his ability to fight. Whatever it may be, she doesn't snap back as quickly as she should, leaving herself vulnerable to his free hand getting a grip on her wrist. With her hidden sword piercing his torso, she can't pry her way free in spite a sudden, surprised struggle to do just that.
Close, face to face with the mask, that petrified rage staring at her, the girl panics for a moment as she tries to tear herself free. It's then that the source of this 'message' is revealed. A name so grim as to sober even the wilely Ayame, the color of her cheeks fading slightly. "...her." she whispers. The Devil of Koga. Is this demon-masked figure the creature's minion? Fellow hellspawn to walk the earth spreading misery and terror to man?
She pulls back again, but his grip is firm, her shortsword rooted in place, the nature of the blade making it ideal for piercing but not for slashing to either side, preventing her from simply tearing it out of his body with one bloody, flesh-rending twist. A desperate twist of her nimble body spares her the worst of the initial threat as the scythe is slammed forward, but her lack of mobility keeps her from avoiding the hooking motion he makes with it immediately after.
Flung, her short-sword is pulled free as Ayame is hefted up flailing then brought back down with a breath-stealing slam. "...ah!" she gasps as she hits the ground and immediately begins trying to regain control over her circumstances. But her fingers of her right hand only barely manage to grasp an edge of the cat walk before she's dragged away and hefted into the air a second time, her side sustaining a bloodied slash from where his scythe had 'hooked' her along.
An airborn flail turns into a last chance defense. It's hard to tell what direction he's even coming from. Harder still to figure out how to muster a defense...
She musters it just as he positions himself for the slam, doing a quick barrel roll and bringing her staff into the path of the crushing weight of his heavy weapon. The collision of force is still enough to slam her back down to the catwalk hard, provoking a second grunt of discomfort, but spares her the worst of the blow. She's a blur of motion the instant she lands against her back, her feet kicking down and pushing her into a backward roll over the length of her staff and allowing her to land in a crouch a short distance away.
"So you do Marise's bidding..." Ayame's tone has shifted. She isn't playful now as she grips her staff in front of her at a defensive angle again, having barely managed to sustain a grip on it throughout the complex ordeal. "That makes you my enemy and I will have to treat you as such..." She's talking, but her voice is slowing down, as if her focus is elsewhere.
It is from the world around her that she begins to draw chi unto her. Little by little, a crimson aura forms at her feet and begins to rise up higher into violet hues and whispy sky blues. Mustering potential energy for a greater attack - it's a technique she's come to master over time but that doesn't make it require any less effort. A bead of sweat forms at her temple and her jaw is clenched. "You... should go... forget your mission..." Currents of chi whip at her long hair and loose bits of clothing and chains.
COMBATSYS: Ayame gathers her will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/=======|=======\====---\1 Maeda
The Faceless - the Mugan - are meant to be without emotion when they kill. They strike, they end a life, and in the end they are spared from any emotional responsibility of taking a human life, an act of betrayal to themselves, to their ideals, or at least their former ideals. The one whose face was hidden behind the mask of rage, Maeda Akamatsu, was different in a way. How was it possible to grow up without emotions, when every day growing up he was made to face a cruel reality? Unlike Marise, his now-revealed employer, Maeda was not tossed into a pit and told to survive at any cost. Instead he was, from the beginning, viewed as dead, and only managed to prove he lived through the expression of the rage he felt at the denial of his very /existence/.
So when Ayame actually shows fear, Maeda is made to pause.
The Demon, however, does not feel hesitation.
This possibly gives Ayame just enough of an edge to avoid the worst of the pain being inflicted upon her, despite the rain of punishment. Or perhaps it was her own skill. In either case, the blows don't connect as sharply as they should. They manage to get redirected, softened or denied. In the end, the Demon lands nearly on top of the fair-haired girl, and for but a single moment looms over her with its scythe held, for all the world looking as Death itself. The permanent savage expression of rage follows the girl's path as she bounds away from the gold-robed (and now flecked with blood) assassin, and at least, it does not pursue beyond its gaze. Shifting, the Faceless One lightly settles the but of its scythe on the ground, straightening and seeming to relax... a little. It would be foolish to assume its guard was down.
"What ails you, fair-haired maiden? So full of airs, until this moment; your fear has the better of you. Much like a kitten, playful until it recognizes death has approached it." Still the Demon does not move... except for a single motion. Raising a gloved hand, the masked person makes an exaggerated, slow motion to the top of its head, pointing at the mane of crimson hair that erupts from the mask it wears, as every bit angry as it itself.
"Your ribbon. This is all I require. Hand it over and I shall leave; I wish no ill upon you. If you do not, then I have little choice but to continue."
Lowering its hand, the Demon stands, still as a stone. It simply waits for an answer, whether with words or with steel.
COMBATSYS: Maeda gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Maeda
The voice of this unknown figure addresses her as she holds her ground, asking her what it is that distresses her so. Marise. She recalls her last encounter with the fiend in the previous condo shared with her by one Shihong Mao. It had been close. She had angered the monster and in so doing, put her life at risk. It was a rare moment - a flash of desire for freedom from the way Marise offered that provoked her to fight rather than fall in line. It was stupid. It was idiotic. It was mathmatically absurd. She could have died.
She survived. Tapping into a side of her past she only barely understood, she drove the Devil into the night. Even as the vibrant show of chi curls up around her, reinvigorating her muscles and bestowing unto her borrowed strength, a shiver runs down the length of her spine. Her demeanor has changed entirely. She's gravely serious now. No more playing, no more teasing or taunting. She's reminded of when she had an epiphany facing Marise - that realization that she wanted to kill the creature... no, rather, that she had a /duty/ to kill the demon. It was in her blood - the blood of a fallen miko - to seal away such abominations. But she doesn't know how!
"I'm reminded," she answers, her tone even, her hair continuing to whip about her shoulders, driven by the gathered chi. "Of a sacred duty long since neglected." She takes in her breath and a portion of the chi is absorbed into her body in the process. "An obligation I had thought to forget." She turns her left shoulder forward, gripping her staff with both hands now at her side. Her left foot slips forward as she once again seems to be preparing to attack.
The demon gestures and she falls quiet as the last whisps of chi die down, restoring a certain quietness to the location. The terms of the fel mission are spoken. It comes for her ribbon as proof of this visit. Ayame's mouth twitches, her expression difficult to decipher, as she seems to shift through amused, fascinated, worried, angry, and thrilled all at the same time. So. This is to be the game, is it. The Devil of Koga wants to have fun at her expense, sending this masked figure to send a message that she's still out there, still watching, still plotting.
It's time she send back a message of her own. "Very well. If those are the terms." She grins, "I accept!" The girl bolts forward, her staff flaring to life with chi the shade of freshly drawn blood that moves over its surface like a fluid. A majority of it congeals near the forward end of it as Ayame charges forward, shifting, shimmering, extending... into a curved blade. The shape the energy takes on would be familiar to him: the head of a scythe. And with a blur of motion, Ayame aims to send a message of her own as she closes in with violent intent...
COMBATSYS: Maeda fails to counter Final Solstice from Ayame with Kagura no Mai.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\1 Maeda
There are attacks in the girl's repertoire that take everything she has. All of her martial combatative skill with weapons, all of her precision chi use, all of her speed, all of her strength. What Maeda is introduced to is one of those. The energy blade turns her trusty staff into a vorpal edged scythe. Her assault is brutal, persistant, and aggressive. She'll swing in quickly, putting her whole body into the strike, aiming to smash through guard or defenses, before whirlwinding into a second blow with the blunt end of her staff, then a third with the 'bladed' end.
The head of the weapon would shift after that, going from the scythe to a double-bladed axe that she would swing in again, aiming to cut into the robe-clad mystery with vicious force. Again and again, she'll attack, the area around her aglow with crimson energy as the axe blades shimmer into a lance she uses for stabbing instead of chopping. Ruthless in her attacks, she aims to harm, aims to push this stranger to the brink of defeat, aims to keep attacking and perhaps give her attacker a taste of that fear she experienced for a moment before finding her courage.
By the time it ends, however, she'll spin out of the combination into a slide, her staff at her side, the crimson chi flowing down over its surface as if a liquid in the process of draining off into small droplets at the base. Only, the droplets vanish before they ever reach the ground beneath the catwalk. The girl is in a low crouch, her feet far apart, her staff held at an angle up at her side. And as her hair comes to settle against her shoulders in back, it is bereft the black ribbon that had adorned it in the shape of a bow.
No, that ribbon is drifting down from the center of where she tore into the masked creature, having been intentionally loosed in the midst of the mayhem to be left with it - this messanger of the Devil. "Go." the girl spits as she maintains her pose, ready to defend herself should another attack be made. "Take my ribbon with you. Let it, and the injuries you sustained here, be a token of our exchange. Let it be proof you performed faithfully. Perhaps she won't slay you where you stand. Or maybe she will." The girl smirks. "Go and find out. And perhaps someday you'll come to wish that you had died on this rooftop instead."
The Demon stares impassively as Ayame begins her answer. It comes in something it might not have expected: both words, and steel. The first part of it, the green eyes behind that frozen mask of savagery narrow. It listens to her words, though if it feels any sign of concern about them, it certainly doesn't show it. She speaks of sacred duties and obligations; of tasks long forgotten, yet were now resurfacing. It seems as if the fair-haired girl is affirming something in her mind. A choice, that is indeed far beyond anything that has to do with this current situation. Even this masked demon who would be her tormentor. Whatever the implications might be, whatever Ayame is thinking, whatever history Ayame might be putting behind her... the Faceless One has no concept of it.
And that is likely why, in the face of sudden and overwhelming conviction, the Miko slays evil.
The first strike comes, and the Demon's response is to twirl his scythe into a defensive posture - a moment too slow. The first blow catches the haft of the massive blade before his other hand can obtain a good grip on it, and effectively the scythe is knocked aside from any practical defense. Even then, the Mugan assassin does not pause, seemlessly flipping the scythe in his hand around to hold it in that reverse grip - but Ayame is already inside his guard. Before he can attempt to do anything, he's slammed, then sliced by crimson chi, more color being added to the fake blade by the spray of blood that comes from the person's newest torso wound.
And it doesn't end there. Axe is slammed into it, again and again, until the lance comes into play, and then the Demon is stabbed, again and again. Each strike draws new dark red stains upon the gold of the robes. Each strike forces the mysterious person back. One step, two, three... many more. By the end of it, the Faceless Demon has been destroyed, nearly utterly: it kneels, its scythe less held in an aggressive posture and more to lean against for support. Its other arm crosses over its body, as if to try and hold in the blood oozing from the now many wounds. Breathing is haggard, and though the Demon's throat is difficult to discern under the mane of crimson hair and the robes, streaks of scarlet show that it is badly injured, having just coughed up more blood.
The ribbon falls in front of it. Its gaze is undoubtedly upon it, for that mask of rage is turned downwards in a sorrowful expression - even if the rage of the mask still burns. Ayame speaks more words after her assault...
...And the response is a /growl/. Not a ferocious, snarling growl that one would expect when they'd just been beaten so badly. No. It was indeed a growl of frustration at something else. After a brief moment, the scythe's blade snaps closed, and then the Demon lets go of it, the massive weapon clattering to the ground hard enough to shake the catwalk, if only somewhat. Next, the Demon shifts its head forward, the mane of crimson hair spilling over its face. Hands lift, reaching into that mane... and then, after but a moment, it begins to come away. The Demon... was unmasking himself?
The most striking aspect of the man who looks up at Ayame once the mask is off is how little the expression changes. Emerald eyes burn with rage, but this is not rage entirely directed at Ayame. The handsome young man's features are marred by a bit of blood that he indeed coughed up, running over his chin and down his throat. His own hair, raven black, is mussed and matted from wearing the getup. But those eyes. They are clear, and raw with emotion. Maeda Akamatsu stands up, dropping his demon mask to the floor, for the moment all things - even the ribbon - forgotten.
"Figures that black widow cougar bitch would send me up against someone I had no chance against. But listen here," Maeda says, his hand lifting to point at Ayame. "I don't give a damn how good you are. And I don't give a damn about /her/ either. She pays me, and I do what she says. Her little black widow 'oh look at my tits' attitude pisses me off, and I ain't got no love for the lady. So cut the bullshit. I'm not afraid of her, or you."
Dipping down, Maeda picks up his mask and the wig, settling it over his shoulder. Then he picks up his scythe, lifting the massive weapon easily with one hand and tucking it under one arm. He continues to stare angrily at Ayame, throwing his chin towards her. "You're pretty good, you know that? Showed me a thing or two. I'm gonna be feeling that knife to the ribs for a week," he says, shifting uncomfortably for a moment. "But you're giving me charity, and I sure as -hell- don't want that. So spare me. I'm not getting caught up in you or her's game. Whatever's between you two, that's where it's gonna stand."
Maeda's socked foot kicks at the ribbon, sending it several fluttering feet, though doesn't quite make it back to its owner, predictably. "Maybe we'll meet again, and then I don't have to do all this ceremony crap. Next time, I ain't gonna feel bad for you or hesitate because I like you, though." With that, ribbonless by choice, the Mugan assassin turns and begins to walk off... though not quite so fast as he could, as if expecting an attack from Ayame despite the finality of her words. His bright green eyes stare askance at her as the unmasked demon makes his way towards the ladder once more, seeking to depart from this place.
Her assault delivered, her words imparted, Ayame waits. Her expression austere and judgmental and even though her posture is slightly relaxed, the way she holds her staff suggests she's more than ready to defend herself all the same. The catwalk is rattled by the thud of the hefty weapon he wielded with such grace and poise, a not so subtle reminder of the risks she took in fighting against someone with such a heavy weapon.
She encouraged him to take off with the ribbon. She was setting the terms, exercising control. It wasn't that she didn't like playing the game; it's just how she decided to play it, with the battered and slashed messanger stuck in the middle of two diametrically fueding forces. Take the ribbon and go, she had instructed, deciding it was her place to call. She had the upper hand here. He was good but she was better - a point she had no reservations in driving home. In sending him after her, Marise had done him a far greater disservice than Ayame. At least now he knows more about who he was working for.
But with the scythe dropped, he reaches for his mask. She was curious as to what was hidden behind it. She had been tempted, in the midst of her assault, to try and remove it - to lay eyes on her attacker's face just so that she would be able to pick them out of any crowd for the rest of her life. But the time wasn't right for it. She was pushing her limits of showing off just undoing her hair ribbon and leaving it to twirl down in her wake as it was. Best to not push further and trip herself up.
But now he's doing it for her. Sharp brown eyes stare back at eyes of furious emerald as he rises up to stand. Well. This is interesting. She stays quiet. Something has shifted to a significant degree and until she fully grasps what it means, she'll play it cautious. He speaks. No longer the ambigious, disguised voice of the Faceless One but the voice of a young man, powered by fury, and Ayame stands up straighter, relaxing her guard and resting her staff against the ground, gripping it with one hand at her side. "So the mask comes off," she murmurs softly. And the personality behind it is nothing like she had expected.
A narrow brown eyebrow archs as he expresses his anger at the one he was delivering the message for and her head cants to the side as he continues. She doesn't cut him off at all once he begins speaking, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement to patient tolerance as she lifts her free right hand and brushes her fingernails against her blouse. He kicks her ribbon and sends the long fabric vaguely in her direction before it comes to rest again.
Well, that's good. She was somewhat loathe to give it up. Like much about the girl, it was no ordinary standard issue ribbon. Replacing it wasn't going to be as simple as hitting the store. She stands up straighter, shifting her staff from off the ground to resting it across her shoulders, lazily hanging her left arm over it while her right arm continues to rest against her side. "Huh." is her initial response as he turns to walk off.
"I know something of where you're at." she speaks up, her tone level, no longer teasing, taunting, angry, or energetic. The girl twirls the staff at her side and the weapon collapses down into a much smaller, portable size that she slides into the pouch at her belt. "If you're not afraid..." She shrugs a little, stretching her arms at her sides before dropping her hands to her hips. "You should be." Her expression shifts from somber to an easy grin once again as she fishes her ribbon up off the catwalk. "I used to work for her." She turns to crouch down near the spy equipment left near the edge of the catwalk where he had made his presence known to begin with. Time to pack up and get out of here. Someone has to be thinking about seeing what the ruckus on the roof was about by now.
"Her back is turned, her mouth maintaining a certain amused smile, "Don't feel bad for me. Won't be long before you'll be where I am, if you have any sense at all." Ayame glances over her shoulder. "Until next time, Grim Reaper."
Log created on 22:48:07 05/01/2009 by Ayame, and last modified on 21:15:16 05/15/2009.