Description: We never did get this OIC tourney round thing done... Last Blade 2-themed, Mukuro versus Juzoh.
[OOC] Rust says, "log's up, posin'."
A long time ago, in the romantic Bakamatsu era of Japan.... our world was threatened by a weakened boundary between Earth and Hell. Many warriors laid down their lives to stop a madman's wishes. Half a year after his defeat, the threat remained. It would require a ritual with a heavy price to finally put an end to what would have been humanity's final chapter.
But, even within that story, the fates of many were intertwined throughout those days... from those as great as soldiers of the Shinsengumi, to the lowest of honorless dogs. Some were statistics. Others, those whose actions nudged fate in whatever direction their presence made.
Yet others were simply... hungry. This is one of the stories of those hungry.
...
"Ah! Akariiii!" Calls a young man of far greater size than nearly any other among him, bare feet trudging along the rough path through a graveyard that stands as a reminder of what prices were paid in recent times. He hefts a large studded metal club in but one arm, clad in only an open reddish-orange shirt and green trousers. For a young man of his size and strength, he could be mistaken as a stray demon co-existing with humanity.
But here, in this graveyard, he is scared as any small child would be. As any small child should be, alone, unattended, and at the mercy of those who stalk the shadows.
"Where'd she even go...?" The young man sighs loudly. "Hikari's gonna die worrying if I don't find you... ah, and she's already sick too."
To steel his courage, he takes his club in both hands, teeth clattering as he looks at every passing darkness, imagined or otherwise.
A loud growl echoes through the graveyard, making the large man jump with such a start he's preparing himself to swing at the first thing that leaps out at him. Moments pass with his racing heartbeat.
"W-wait." He mumbles. "That's me." His left hand goes over his stomach. "Eee... I forgot to eat before I left." Humbled, but no less reassured, the gigantic young man continues his weary steps into the graveyard.
[OOC] Rust says, "sorry for the wait."
The broken barrier between life and death, and the gates of Hell, did more then merely birth the likes of Setsuna. One of the most cruel and twisted of individuals to grace the world, whom might surpass even the likes of Freeman in modern times, was not defeated by something as trivial as death. Once known as Shikyoh, in death he is known only as Mukuro... a creature, no longer even a human. A boogie man, something spoken to quiet unruly children, a monster who preys on the souls of the innocent.
And it seems today that a certain bat wielder will get a brush with myth.
There is an ominous feeling, some dark and twisted presence interlaced with the dense fog that hangs in a wispy curtain. But behind Juzoh, a shallow grave stirs. There would be enough rasping sound to draw his attention, before a dark arm suddenly thrusts upwards, splayed fingers trembling towards the heavens. Dirty gauze is wrapped about the wrists, flesh dark and sunken. Slamming into the ground, slowly the moss covered dirt is sloughed upwards. Slender shoulders wrapped in a ratty vest surface, before Mukuro's face surges upwards. Old, bloodied bandages cover his face and neck, tufts of hair wildly sticking out. His eyes are white, but hold within them a malicious light.
Worming his way up, Mukuro seems to be having difficulty with his right arm, jerking it firmly with the elbow still caught within the grave. Before a sudden eruption of dirt and rocks sprays into the air, and an unholy purple sheen flashes across a massive S-shaped double blade, the hilt within the middle. Rotten eeth are bared in a predatory grin, lolling in an unwieldy manner as the blatant zombie stays on his feet.
"Heehee... heeheehee...!!" Eyes roll in his broken skull, before finding Juzoh. Bonelessly he slumps forward, catching himself at the last moment. One arm drags behind him as he literally shuffles in the massive man's direction, dragging the legendary blade Kyoudachi Hagewashi. "Blood... give me your blood...!!"
COMBATSYS: Mukuro has started a fight here.
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Mukuro 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Mukuro
COMBATSYS: Mukuro takes no action.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Mukuro
That rasping. That shuddering. The young man wants to simply write it off as his stomach again, rubbing it vigorously as if to tell himself, 'I know I haven't eaten yet, I know, I know, I'll find Akari and then I'll eat to my heart's content!' If only the positive thought were enough to outweigh every little thing wrong with this once peaceful locale.
The dirt from the arm thrusting upward strikes at Juzoh's heel, making him turn about with a high-pitched yelp in time for him to witness the (re)birth of a legendary monster - the likes of which even being in the company of Akari's antics could not have prepared him for. His jaw hangs wide open at the grisliest sight he could ever hope to find - the dead rising from their graves.
"Aaaahhh!! No, I need my blood!" Juzoh cowers before the grinning zombie. Akari, where are you when I need you most, he whines inwardly as a cold sweat worthy of the dead (if the dead could sweat at all) runs down his face. The wrap around the handle of the club may be the only thing that lets him keep his grip as nervous twitches run through his entire body as his eyes fall upon that blade that looks so readily prepared to drink his blood. This just ain't real, man, he would say were he not caught in the vice grip of fear itself.
"J-Just go back to sleep, man!" Juzoh begs, hesitant to draw any closer and too rooted to the spot to move back against the cadaver's lurching gait. He, like any reckless child, can only do the first thing that comes to his mind. The Kongo Rakan, his club and the only thing that might make him a match for this rotting corpse, is suddenly swung forward in a wide horizontal swing to attempt to force him back.
COMBATSYS: Mukuro dodges Rust's Medium Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Mukuro
There seems to be no reaction from the rotting figure when the vicious arc of that oversized club is began. But then he tenses, his eyes settling on that studded steel, and with supernatural agility he snaps downwards. It swishes over his shoulders, brushing heavily, but it is still a clean miss for all intents and purposes. A breathless giggle is begun, Mukuro remaining on all fours as he literally skitters, belly touching the uneven ground. Like some kind of inhuman serpent, he weaves over and then his skeletal hand snaps up -- trying to catch Juzoh by his own vest. His strength would feel completely inhuman, banded steel as irrevocable as his malice, while Mukuro tries to haul himself up. A flash of steel as his hulking blade would be brought to bear, cackling as he attempts to sink it deep in Juzoh's chest. Twisting heavily while planting his heel on his stomach, and then kicking off in a rather disorganized backflip to barely land upon his feet!
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Mukuro's Zan-Niku Kamaitachi.
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Rust 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Mukuro
For his lack of wit, Juzoh does feel that creeping sensation of fear when there's no sensation of said swing actually /hitting/ something. He can't see the dead(?) guy in front of his eyes, discounting the possibility - the reality - he's crawling along the ground underneath his very nose.
"Kaa--!" Juzoh gasps in surprise as he is jerked downwards into an unsteady position as he is dragged to a prone position by one smaller than he. As if he needed any other reason to wet his pants right about now!!
His eyes widen almost widely enough to pop right out of his skull as he sees that flash of steel, thoughtlessly interposing his left hand against the blade as he puts his own strength against Mukuro's thrust - and it is here where the dead man's blade tastes blood once again, blood flowing from Juzoh's palm where he foolishly thinks to grasp the blade in an attempt to stop it from going into him.
The dismounting kick takes the wind out of him with a loud wheeze, staggering backwards as he clenches the bleeding hand as if to make sure it's still a part of him and not sliced clean off.
"Ahh, I have no choice, do I?!" He panics. It's one thing to come across the ordinary street tough or pickpocket or other ne'er-do-well. This is anything but!
Taking the club into both hands and staining the wrap around the handle with his own blood, leaping forward with a loud cry as he attempts to strike the end of the club down into the ground like a post - as if to form a new gravestone for the restless dead (if he were of a more artistic bent about this, which he is obviously not), the entire graveyard shaking underneath where club meets ground in a violent quake.
COMBATSYS: Mukuro blocks Rust's Crashing Down.
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Rust 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Mukuro
Mukuro has disconnected.
Mukuro has connected.
[OOC] Mukuro says, "get my pose"
[OOC] Rust didn't see one.
"Heeheehee...!!" Mukuro giggles out, a distressingly long tongue lolling out and wrapping about the tip of the blade to taste Juzoh's blood. However, then he unleashes a truly ferocious strike upon the less then attentive zombie, who manages to bring up his weapon. Both those slender arms grasp the hilt, and with his shriveled exterior, every rib visible on his sunken chest, it gives all the appearance of a scarecrow trying to stop the hammer of the gods. But when the huge bat impacts it, a hail of sparks and screech of steel, somehow Mukuro doesn't break. He is driven to his knees, doubling over, face smacking into the ground like a puppet with the strings cut... yet he managed still to halt the irrevocable drive of Juzoh's weapon. And then shoves it aside, running forward with a quick pitter-patter of his feet, weapon suddenly seperating into dual blades. Two quick slashes are thrown towards Juzoh, before he literally twirls around and then leans forward, lashing out with both in tandem towards his stomach with another manic giggle. Although his movements are unnatural and lack anything related to skill, that inhuman physique and unpredictability seem to make up for much of this...
[OOC] Rust says, "and there it is!"
COMBATSYS: Mukuro successfully hits Rust with Crushing Strike.
- Power hit! -
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Mukuro
Even the might of Juzoh's huge arms are at a loss against what sorts of superhuman strength this cackling corpse brings, a cramping feeling running up his forearms that culminates in the metal club being shoved upwards with a priceless look (and an even more valuable opportunity).
Before Juzoh knows it - for what little he can ever know - both blades are thrust into his stomach deeply enough to draw worry from even the most hard-boiled soldier with a gleeful splash of blood to lap up. Those blades rest there while the young man's eyes all but glaze over just looking at this guy this close, face to face. He feels faint.
Dust and dirt kicked up from their exchanges of blows reaches his nostrils. He winces, his face twitching as his body goes about the natural response to irritants heading up his nose. He takes in a deep breath, eyes looking ready to roll back.
And then his stomach is sucked in as all the air in his lungs rush out of his face in a thunderous sneeze, bowing forward as hurricane-force winds courtesy of his mighty allergies might, in some bizarre fashion or another, get this /thing/ off of him.
COMBATSYS: Mukuro endures Rust's Jackhammer Kick!
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Rust 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Mukuro
[OOC] Mukuro says, "ow"
[OOC] Rust says, "yeah, I winced."
[OOC] Rust says, "poor corpse, having to deal with the living not covering their goddamn mouths."
Mukuro does not know about little things like self-preservation. Given the fact he kind of died to horrific head trauma, that probably backs up the claim. His stance spreads, and as that rather sizeable windup is done, all the former assassin does is rear back his arm, firmly redoubling the grip on the middle hilt. The incredible ACHOOOO blasts into him, sending dirt and rocks flying, his bandages and tattered clothing streaming backwards with a look of surprised pain. That quickly warps into some kind of pleasure, as he capitalizes on the rather considerable opening from assaulting in that manner. "HRRRRK--" And like some kind of terrible rubber band, his arm /flings/ forward, as that gruesome blade whirls in an impossible fashion. Fel energy sizzles off the blade, deep purple, as it attempts to cut into Juzoh like a hellish buzzsaw as he cackles madly. It seems he's more then willing to return the pain that he took ten fold over!
COMBATSYS: Mukuro successfully hits Rust with Hikui Kaiten Kimo Eguri.
- Power hit! -
~ Cruel hit! ~
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Rust 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Mukuro
[OOC] Rust says, "ouchies of ouching"
[OOC] Mukuro says, "well, that attack WOULD hurt..."
[OOC] Rust says, "I don't know if it's the ouchest but it is oucher than at least 90 percent of other ouches."
[OOC] Mukuro says, "and you probably braced it too"
[OOC] Rust says, "yes, yes I did."
Compare this lack of self-preservation to Juzoh who has his whole life ahead of him, be it fifty seconds or fifty years! Think about how many dumplings that'd go uneaten in his absence! It'd be a crime! A waste of great food!
"Gheh." Juzoh sniffs as a sharp pain courses through the two puncture wounds in his abdomen, free (for the moment) of being impaled but not free of his strength continuing to ebb out of himself by the second. A fatal lowering of his guard from the disorientation of such a great, powerful sneeze matched with the sort of morbid amazement that comes from that /thing/ just bending and twisting about as it does, he thinks he ought to do something such as...
Something such as oh good gravy, a curse too mild for a whirling purple pinwheel of death! He whimpers pathetically as he tries to hold the club in front of the blood-drawing buzzsaw, turning his head away as to not look it straight in the face. It takes only three good rotations for it to bat the bat upwards, leaving a prone, kneeling giant of a boy to take a couple new gashes and scars across his chest with a loud scream as he is cruelly cut. Any deeper as the whirlwind ends, and that might have proven a fatal blow simply by itself.
"Ahh, Hikari~" Juzoh whimpers quietly as his vision is distorted by tears and a head that feels a bit lighter every passing moment. His left hand reaches out into whatever space is in front of him in a poor attempt to fend any further blows, but if he somehow finds a grip on the crazed corpse...
[OOC] Rust says, "more if this thing hits."
[OOC] Mukuro says, "never!"
COMBATSYS: Mukuro dodges Rust's Crane Launch.
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Rust 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Mukuro
[OOC] Rust says, "aw."
[OOC] Mukuro says, "darn i was hoping thatd hit"
[OOC] Rust says, "and so you were spared that bullshit command throw."
[OOC] Rust says, "interestingly, Juzoh's 'super' version of that thing references baseball, but it didn't actually come to Japan into a few years later."
That swishing hand grasps only an afterimage. Mukuro is once more on all fours, belly to the ground like some kind of frantic weasel. He shoots forward again, this time going straight between Juzoh's legs and appearing behind him. But no sooner then the large man might move to react to such, then Mukuro's already shifted right back the other direction, circling to try and keep at the larger man's back! He's cackling madly, ignoring his own too dark blood splattering on the ground... as if he has already half-clotted before any wounds were broken on his parchment thin skin. This relentless feinting is finally ended when he launches himself straight backwards, suddenly putting a large amount of distance between himself and Juzoh. Whatever can he hope to do from here? But again he makes a threatening stance, twisting his entire torso around 180. "HAGE..." And then he whirls the weapon outwards, that murderous energy again shimmering through it as the air violently displaces. "WASHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!" The sound of steel literally cutting the air whirls towards Juzoh, the wildly spinning weapon aiming for his neck. Quite enough to send his head flying away, if it's not expediantly dealt with...!
Mukuro has disconnected.
Mukuro has connected.
That swishing hand grasps only an afterimage. Mukuro is once more on all fours, belly to the ground like some kind of frantic weasel. He shoots forward again, this time going straight between Juzoh's legs and appearing behind him. But no sooner then the large man might move to react to such, then Mukuro's already shifted right back the other direction, circling to try and keep at the larger man's back! He's cackling madly, ignoring his own too dark blood splattering on the ground... as if he has already half-clotted before any wounds were broken on his parchment thin skin. This relentless feinting is finally ended when he launches himself straight backwards, suddenly putting a large amount of distance between himself and Juzoh. Whatever can he hope to do from here? But again he makes a threatening stance, twisting his entire torso around 180. "HAGE..." And then he whirls the weapon outwards, that murderous energy again shimmering through it as the air violently displaces. "WASHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!" The sound of steel literally cutting the air whirls towards Juzoh, the wildly spinning weapon aiming for his neck. Quite enough to send his head flying away, if it's not expediantly dealt with...!
COMBATSYS: Rust dodges Mukuro's Hage Washi.
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Rust 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Mukuro
There is nothing there in front of him any more. Juzoh falls to his knees mere moments after the reanimated murderer scurries past his legs, bloody hand on the club as the other is pressed against the cold dirt and rocks. Is he gone? Did he simply just imagine this? But yet... he's bleeding! He's bleeding profusely. Something happened here, he just can't quite put his finger on it from the adrenaline and light-headedness from his blood loss, and..
His thoughts are interrupted by a sudden scream and the glimpse of cold purple-glowing steel from the corner of his eye, followed by cowering low on the ground with a hand over his head as the flying blade passes harmlessly overhead (aside from flicking some of his own blood back at him, as if he didn't already look like he could make use of that thing's well-worn gauze over there).
Though he is fairly distant, Juzoh thinks (foolishly) that this is his chance, getting up to his feet with a yell that could wake the dead. (...More of the dead.) Right behind him is that spinning blade that would be coming back to its twisted master - incidentally, this gesture in itself probably dooms the young giant. He wouldn't see it as such, for after all, he intends to push through this guy and make a run for it!
He goes for another wide, telegraphed horizontal swing with his forward momentum backing him up against the skull, a numbness threatening to overcome his bloodied hand.
COMBATSYS: Mukuro dodges Rust's Power Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Mukuro
There's absolutely no movement from Mukuro, who just sways back and forth in place as Juzoh charges forward. His hand swipes upwards in the air, as if he were uppercutting an invisible opponent. Before he leaps straight into the air with another cackle, just as that vicious swing roars past where he just was. Impossibly, he catches his weapon above Juzoh... it seems it has some manner of boomerang weapon, which would of been good to know before that vulnerable situation. Clasping both hands upon the double bladed sword's middle hilt, he then descends down in a vicious jagged motion, aiming to tear across Juzoh from shoulder to hip with a deep hiss of satisfaction. "Yesss... yesss... bleed!! BLEED FOR ME!!"
COMBATSYS: Mukuro successfully hits Rust with Zan-Niku Obasami.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Mukuro
The swing comes up against thin air, a gasp as the big man (who is really a scared boy) poorly compensates for the amount of swing and finds himself falling to a kneel as the crazy-ass corpse gets his blade back above him. That Juzoh falls a tad prevents that blade from cutting a new gash in his shoulder on the return - something Mukuro quickly corrects with his request.
"I don't w--" Juzoh's whining is silenced as the flying dead man descends at a sharp angle with an even sharper blade, tearing across from shoulder to hip indeed with yet another large splash of blood to celebrate this newest wound. How much more could he offer? His vision darkens ever more, stumbling back as his shredded vest flutters in the still air of death and decay.
"I don't... I don't wanna die," he whines anew so weakly as to be hard to hear, struggling to keep his strength to hold that heavy metal club while his feet make heavy footprints where the dirt can give way. He struggles to hold it even with both hands.
The only thing that lets him stay on his feet at all is when he makes a clumsy - but purposeful - stab forward as if with a spear, trying to catch the corpse with a thrust that, even with a dull end, parts the air around it.
COMBATSYS: Mukuro blocks Rust's Deep Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/-======|=======\=------\1 Mukuro
[OOC] Mukuro says, "So when would you get back from dinners?"
[OOC] Rust says, "The timeframe I have is that 'we go out between five and seven' so I don't know when exactly."
[OOC] Mukuro says, "Can we finish up after? Don't wanna rush the end! And I need a quick nap"
[OOC] Rust says, "Sure!"
[OOC] Rust says, "Weather seems like it'll be clear too."
[OOC] Rust says, "Thanks for the scene thus far, been a good long time since I've seen you."
[OOC] Mukuro says, "Indeed!"
[OOC] Rust goes to get cleaned up then, rest well!
Log created on 12:19:17 05/08/2010 by Rust, and last modified on 10:54:09 10/20/2014.