Description: Roaming the streets of Outer Sunshine, Amy Johnson runs into another errant warrior fighting off the unwanted attentions of the city's unsavoury element. They take rather more kindly to one another; and a night's entertainment is made as fists, feet and energy fly. It sure beats actually working for a living.
It's a cold day on the bad streets of Outer Sunshine, though the locals - with their typical hungry flair - are doing their utmost to keep things both warm and interesting as the winter drags on. The small, poorly organised gangs that roam the streets are frequently seen holding loosely defined shindigs that run the gamut from bonafide street parties to lazy excuses for brawling and drag racing. The quirky variety present in the populace makes it difficult to tell which is which, at glance, as even the most jacked-up, ill-tempered gangbanger tends to dress and act with a certain flamboyance.
In fact, it's much easier to stand out by not being colourful and boisterous. As Amy Johnson has rather rapidly found out on her nighttime journey through the outskirts of the city. Forgoing her usual attire, she has set out in little more than boots, jeans and a dark blue tanktop, her beret - still left in the care of a cherubic orphan - replaced by a stylish butterfly clip, pulling her long black hair away from her face with just a few bangs left to trail around her face. She actually looks like a normal person, and it has to be said that denim flatters her figure rather more than the practical canvas she generally sports upon her legs.
Which has attracted the attention of more than one belligerent thug. They're dealt with easily enough, non-violently manouevered around with a few choice words and the odd cutting glare. But it's getting old, fast. Currently, the Templar's path leads her around an old, dusty alley corner onto a larger thoroughfare packed with dilapidated, boarded-up houses. She doesn't have a destination in mind, though given the chill of the night she finds herself drawn to the loud bass thump emitted from a squat drinking hole at the road's end. The path there, though, is all but blocked by a small horde of Sunshine's own special breed of nightlife.
The sound of bottles breaking and car engines revving seems not to overly faze Amy, though she does flick out her wrists as she walks, breathing a gentle sigh as stormy blue eyes scan across the crowd. The question is... are these the friendly type, or the TOO-friendly type?
It has been pretty much a long running party for awhile in the streets of Sunshine City. A party that is starting to finally start to slow down as things start to go back to a more normal pace. Of course some groups are looking for excuses to keep the party going on as long as they can make it. Most of those groups are the types one doesn't usually want to associate with. Some are easily brushed aside. Some are presistent as well. Then there are the ones that only take a certain kind of no for an answer.
That is why there is a sound of a scuffle in an alley a bit ahead of the direction that Amy would be walking. There is a flash of some sort as well as a trashcan rolling out from the alley followed by a group of youths scrambling out and running the hell away. One looks to be bleeding from the nose and the rest seemed to flee before they joined their friend in the broken noses club. A few moments later Faolan himself steps out looking somewhat disappointed as he waves a wallet in one hand and gripping his bata with the other. The latter is resting on a shoulder as he waves the former in the air. "Hey, fellahs! I thougt ya really wanted my money!"
He tchs lightly and shakes his head. Can't even have fun with a proper mugging these days it would seem. Of course he doesn't condone such actions, but if they are going to steal something he is glad he gets targeted instead of someone else. The wallet is shoved back into his back pocket and he reaches up to tug on the lip of his hat to pull it down a bit. "Ahh well. Maybe they learned something." Probably not, but he at least he tried to do a good deed and set them straight.
You don't spend several years trotting the globe in search of mythical relics without learning a thing or two about surviving in strange climates. As the melee scatters out onto the road not far from her trail, Amy does not react in overt fashion, but there is a slight shift in stance as her step slows - shoulders lifting, stepping more toward the balls of her feet, and oh-so-subtly stretching out her arms. Dark eyes flick toward the alleyway, rather than tracking the retreating ne'er-do-wells, and at the sight of Faolon an eyebrow faintly arches. Just for a moment.
Once she is certain he is the apparent 'victim', her posture relaxes, and she slows down further to come to a halt a few feet away from the Irishman, folding her arms loosely about her midriff - leaving her hands visible and open as she directs a rather lazy smile in his direction. She wouldn't have looked at him twice under any other circumstance, understated and dishevelled as he is. He would blend into just about any sleazy urban environment.
But this isn't just anywhere. This is a place upon the fine edge to becoming a second fighters' mecca - and a man who can fight off a pack of youths, however lanky and unskilled they may be, is one much more likely to fit the bill. To possess that curious inner strength that the Templar herself shares. And if he does... well, it might just mean he has more than half a brain too, unlike the majority of people she has encountered in the last few hours.
"Are you handing out free lessons to everybody, or just those who ask nicely?"
Her crisp accent cuts into the night like a knife through butter, syllables smooth and effortless as she leans back on her heels, lips tweaking a little higher at the corners. She doesn't seem to be challenging him, however. It's all very pleasant in tone, though it's hard to read her precise intent in those brooding blue eyes. "You don't sound like a local. Immigrant or," she pauses, lifts a brow, "Tourist?"
Half a brain or more he has, but he might not be the most perceptive. At least not at the moment since he didn't even seem to notice Amy until she speaks up. He cranes his neck as he looks over his shoulder and he gives a bit of a grin as he shrugs his shoulders. "Ehn, mum always said I should have been a teacher. I handle kids well." He replies and he looks the woman over briefly, but has the politeness to not overdo it and actually is good at keeping eye contact.
He casts one last glance in the direction of where the kids ran off before turning about and stepping over towards Amy as he reaches up and tips his hat a bit to her. "Probably as much of a tourist as anyone else that has been here in Sunshine as of late." he says and shifts his stance to lazily let the bata rest over his shoulders and drapes his hands over it as he sort of teeter totters from foot to foot. "FIgure your in the same boat too because I don't see anyone harassing you."
At least she doesn't seem to recongize him from his television appearance. He has gotten a few people call out to him as the 'ball trauma guy' a few times and honestly after the phonecall chewout he got from Heidern he might just deny that he was ever there causing a ruckus in the fight between Alma and Ken a few days ago. "So what's up with you? Just out for a walk or were you hoping people would cause some trouble as well?" He seems a bit curious as he can't seem to stop himself from grining. "Oh shit, I didn't introduce myself. Faolan Sheehan." he says while letting one hand come forward to offer a handshake.
"At least a bit better than they handle you, hm?" The Templar is instantly at some ease with the man, it seems, a fact perhaps owing as much to his obvious heritage as his general mood and demeanour. She hasn't heard of his antics behind the announcers' desk, though it may not have been entirely problematic if she had - she seems to at least have a sense of humour. She doesn't respond immediately to all of his queries, letting the Irishman ramble on until he extends a hand.
"Amy," she replies as she shakes without hesitation; her grip firm, a match for his own, "Amy Johnson." Her chin cants upward as she speaks her name, an unconscious gesture born from some inward sense of pride; though there is absolutely no reason he should have heard of her. A small fish in a sprawling ocean, she. "It's a pleasure to meet someone who doesn't spend most of his time staring behind me," she rejoins, laughter in her tone, a hint that perhaps she has has experienced her share of harassment. "But I'd say we're in the same boat, yeah."
Drawing her hand back, she folds that arm back across her middle, tilting her head to one side as she glances off toward the group of revellers taking up most of the nearby street. "So far as causing trouble..." Her smile tweaks to a lopsided grin, teeth baring, one cheek dimpling as she slides her gaze back to Faolan, "I could be game for some. It's been a slow day, and I always welcome the chance to let off some steam." She draws in a slow breath, chest rising and falling before she nods at the Ikari. "I daresay say you'd prove a lot more interesting than the stroll I had planned."
Keeps the grip firm for a handshake even if Amy is a woman. No need to let that get in the way. He knows plenty of the ladies that can kick his ass. He has had one too many 'training' sessions with Leona or Whip in the past. Of course he isn't sure the amount of skill this one has it is better to be safe than sorry. He rather find out a friendly way instead of a more hostile one. "Amy, eh? Good name. Good name." he says while nodding his head and he stretches.
He shifts his stance again and he lets one end of his bata tap the ground as he rests his hands on the other end and puts some of his weight on it. "So what brings you here? The thrill of the fight? Wanting to help out with restoration?" he asks while grinning a bit. It seems he hasn't heard about Amy's own ventures in this town just yet. Then again he had been in party more for a good chunk of the action as some great fighters were throwing fists. A shame the Ikari didn't get involved in a more hands on way. There is always next time he supposes.
There are fading bruises on the Templar's body that testify to that particular thrill - and a wide scar on her soul that attests to a rather more unusual mark being made. A glance flickers sidelong as she considers the past few days spent in Sunshine, and then her mind wanders to the events of the day that has yet to pass. Dropping her arms from about her middle, resting hands lightly upon her hips, she answers the Irishman with a firm nod.
"All of the above. I came here seeking challenges for the body, and - perhaps - a fresh perspective for the soul. My trade," she pauses, turning those stormy blue eyes downward to indicate the gleam of metal about her neck. Her crucifix. "By nature bids me to help people where I can. I can't say the pay is fantastic, but at least the work is rewarding." Looking back up to Faolan, she arches a dark eyebrow. Noting that for such a seemingly open individual, he seems to be asking all of the questions...
"How about you?" She urges, idly lifting a foot, toe of her boot scraping in the dirt as she shifts her posture. "I mean no offence, but you don't seem like the charitable type, Mr. Sheehan. And I'm not sure I've heard your name before." Which rules him out as one of Alma's hired fighters. "Here with friends?"
His own gaze moves downwards for a moment to glance at the cross as well before he gives a nod and his gaze doesn't linger too long even if he probably was using it as an excuse to look at other things. "A religious gal, eh? You here with that priest then?" It does seem like he is full of questions, though it seems he soon has a few of his own to answer which causes him to pause a moment and mull things over while grinning a bit. "A few friends. In between missions and took a detour to have some fun and take in the sights."
He straighens back up and one hand remains on the bata and he gives a shrug. "As for me. I am just a minnow in the pond, miss." he explains as to why she may have never heard of him. He doesn't really go around in that league of Ken's and while the Ikari got an invitation to the King of Fighters it looks like they will be sitting it out this year from the looks of it. "I do that Saturday Night Fight thing on occasions when time allows me. Sadly it is business before pleasure." Even if the business side of things can be pretty damn fun too at times.
"Isn't it always?" Amy replies with a hint of laughter lacing her tone, though mixed with the humour is a little chagrin - unlike the Ikari, her 'business' is one she has come to guide of her own volition. And yet still she is not entirely about to release herself from bondage. "That is, in fact, a part of what brought me here. Learning to act for pleasure, to enjoy myself on my own terms. Even the minnow swims freely. Having said that..."
"I'm not here with Father Elias. I--" she glances back over her shoulder, lifting a hand to brush hair behind her ear in an habitual gesture - mindless of the fact that her dark locks are already clipped back. Her stormy blue eyes find Faolan again as she smiles, "I've been to see him, but we walk separate paths, the church and I. Are you a man of the word, yourself?" It's a fair assumption, based only on his nationality - although she leaves no immediate time for reply. It is her turn to be curious.
"You mentioned 'missions'?" Her toe gently taps against the pavement. Perhaps betraying some paranoid meaning to the question, unless she is simply over-energised or irritable. It's hard to tell. "What kind of missions?"
%He gives a slow nod at the response then a brow quirks up a bit. He lets out a slight 'ehn' in response as he gives his shoulder a shrug. "Me and God have an understanding and that would be about it. I don't think I could ever be a man of the church." he replies as he raises the bata and idly twirls it in his hand as he chuckles. "I ain't a heathen, though. To me it is just kinda there. Mum and dad always disliked that about me, but eh. Part of growing up is disagreeing with parents."
He then considers the other question for a moment. He clucks his tongue a few times and he gives a nod. "Those are a bit classified, miss, but I guess I can tell ya the basic gist of it all." Much like how Amy seemed proud upon introducing herself, Faolan straightens up and he grins a rather large smile as his free arm flexes slightly. "I am a mercenary, but not just any two-bit merc. I work for the Ikari Warriors." He chuckles a bit more again and he lets his arm lower. "I know, right? Certainly don't look that tough I suppose, but I am starting to gain some clout over there. I am not a grunt anymore."
When the Irishman speaks of home, the Templar's eyes roll heavenwards and down as she nods her assent, looking back to Faolan with a soft laugh. There was a time when did not wear a cross about her neck, and the very suggestion would have horrified her. It probably aids in her finding somebody like Faolan charming; unlike many others so well-spoken and religious, she has a certain regard for the rough and the regular, so long as they are well-meaning.
His pronouncement, though, draws a widening of those stunning blue eyes. The woman can't help but grin with good humour at the delivery - the flexing arm is a nice touch - though when he gives the name of the unit she lets out a low whistle, drawing back slightly as she gives the man another once-over. The Ikari Warriors. There's a name she has heard, and without even knowing their full significance to her own past... well. It's difficult to say whether she is impressed or shocked.
"I've learned," Amy replies after a moment, "Not to judge a person's strength by their appearance. I'm surprised, but, I'm not sure that I should be." Lifting a hand, she again brushes at bangs that need no such attention, gazing thoughtfully at Faolan. "With those who come here, and to Southtown, it's more than likely I've run into some of your people without realising it. I've heard a lot about you. My," she hesitates over the next word, "Father has served alongside your unit, as part of the United States military. I've never seen you at work myself." But then she's never even met her father.
A smile dances across her lips, "Care for a little demonstration?"
It is hard not to go through life without hearing about the Ikari. The unit while labeled as mercenaries only will do jobs that are for a greater good. They have been a great help to many a countries afterall and can be found all over the place. Some are just more outspoken and easier to recognize than others. Given time Faolan might even be one of those people. If that is a good or a bad thing has not been decided on just yet. "Your father, huh? I have been with the group for a short time, but I might know the name." he purses his lips a bit in thought. "There are alot of Johnsons around, though."
He gives a helpless shrug then he tilts his head a bit at the request for a demonstration. "Aye? Well I suppose I could." he says while scratching at a cheek and looking around. He supposes this place is good enough as anywhere if she means right now. "You mean right now, right?" he asks to make certain and he takes a few steps back to give himself some room. "If so I can give it a go."
He shifts his stance as he spreads his feet apart and bends slightly at the knees. He then brings both arms forward and grips his bata on each end with a hand as he takes a deep breath and lets it out. "You gotta attack me first, though. Mum would be pissed if I hit a lady without her hitting me first." he says with a bit of a laugh.
COMBATSYS: Faolan has started a fight here.
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|
"Right now."
The Templar's echo comes with a shift in stance of her own, raised boot slapping softly to the ground as the other skids a half-step backward. Her smile pulls a little wider, though forming an odd relationship with her eyes as they simultaneously harden and burn with a curious inner fire. If Faolan should be attuned to such things, there is an aura about the woman; subtle but promising at least the possibility of strength, and it seems to intensify now. Little prickles of power start to blossom. It's faint, and easily missed, but the night actually seems to grow a little darker.
"My father's name," Amy adds with a soft sniff, settling into her heels as she flicks her wrists out to either side, "Wasn't Johnson. It was Tucker." Her tone grows terse, though not with anger - she is simply growing more focused, steadying her breathing as she raises a guard, loose and relaxed. A fair description of her stance in general. "Captain. Served with your unit in Capetown. Years ago, though. I've never even met him."
That she simply spits that out seems to surprise her, and her eyes widen momentarily before she settles herself with a breathless laugh and a shake of her head. Stormy eyes flicker once more over Faolan before suddenly, she is moving with a sharp swish of denim and a creak of leather, maintaining the nuances of her stance as she takes three pirouetting steps toward the Irishman. On the second, a hand lashes at the air, and there is a faint moan through the air - like a gathering breeze. When she spins through the third step, bringing her arm around and down in a falling crescent, a tendril of gray-white, misty chi trails in her grasp.
She wields it like a sword, aiming to drive the bata backward with her slash, and bring the tip of the summoned weapon down into the Ikari's chest. It feels more like a whip, should it strike. Behind it, she flashes a wild grin. "I suppose that makes me a real bastard, doesn't it?"
COMBATSYS: Amy has joined the fight here.
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Amy 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Faolan
COMBATSYS: Amy successfully hits Faolan with Katzbalger.
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Amy 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Faolan
The Irishman seems to be growing more focused too. There is still that slight grin playing across his features, but his brow has furrowed and his gaze narrowed as he looks ready to study the woman's movements. It is more allowing her the first strike gives him a chance to see what she can do before she can in turn see his style in action for the first time. And while the style is a bit different and even the way the chi looks that swatch of energy sort of reminds him of one of Leona's attacks. He feels himself readied for the blast and stands his ground, only it hits against him a bit harder than he expected. There is a grunt and he staggers back a few steps, but maintains his footing for the most part.
"The name ain't familiar and honestly I don't care if you are one or not. I care more about how fun and interesting a person is other than who their parents really are, yanno?" He steps forward now, his body lurching towards Amy as he adjusts his handling of the bata and drives one end forward to hit Amy in the chest. He then quickly attempts to turn on his foot and spin to where he can try and get behind her as he brings the bata down in low and slam the other end into the back of her knee. "Hup!"
COMBATSYS: Amy dodges Faolan's Windmill.
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Amy 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Faolan
Though her arm remains extended from the lashing strike, fingers unfurling from her palm as the mist drifts away, Amy's stance remains uncompromised. She watches Faolan stagger away, just faintly turning herself in from the centre in order to bring her attacking limb back toward her, drawing to a close and tight guard. Enough - she reasons - to be prepared for that fighting stick. Her own weapons training has given her some experience at dealing with such, and her style offers a number of options.
"Judge not--" The opening blow is easy enough to turn aside, the woman simply stepping back through her stance, shifting her left arm parallel with the bata to ensure it is guided aside. When Faolan steps around, she continues to sink into her back leg, rooting firmly then springing up in a tightly controlled hop that carries her over the follow-up. She lands clean, as if she never left the ground, and thrusts herself toward him. "Lest ye be judged?"
Taking advantage of the Irishman's extended arm, Amy slides a hand alongside it as she steps right into his opened guard. Grasping at the elbow, she seizes simultaneously for the shoulder, looking to lock the one as she pushes at the other - a simple and seamless motion driving Faolan to his knees. Should this be successful, it is no more difficult to reverse the motion, twisting from the waist and hips to hurl him bodily to the pavement with a thrust from both opened palms.
COMBATSYS: Faolan interrupts Strong Throw from Amy with One for the Road.
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Amy 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Faolan
"I suppose that is a good way to put it." he replies before falling silent once again. She seems to be pretty quick on her feet which is never good for him. The games of cat and mouse are a bit tiring for him. He just can't keep up with those that are more fleet footed. That is why he often has to adjust his gameplan against a speedier foe. He will just have to let her come to him perhaps. That is what he does for now at least. He plants his feet firmly on the ground and lets Amy come in close and go for the grab.
At first it is enough strength that she manages to surprise him and get him down to one knee, but then the Ikari grits his teeth and he starts to push back and get back to his feet while the two are trying to get the upperhand.That is when Faolan manages to get good enough positioning he slams his bata right into the stomach of Amy rather forcefully as he gives another grunt to actually use his strength to lift her in the air with his bata. There is a crackling sound soon following and from his hand black energy emerges and surges up along the bata, almost looking like mini lightning bolts as they reach the tip where it sends a powerful shock that hits Amy with enough force to send her flying off that bata.
"Ghrk!"
There's not much more that the raven-haired woman can say as the man's rod enters her abdomen. Her grip fails upon him as she is hoisted up, quite handily given that she is no mere slip of a thing, and then subjected to a torrent of energy quite unlike anything she expected from the apparent Ikari. Her entire frame convulses as she is launched, drawing a few loud whoops from the nearby revellers - all but forgotten as the two have conversed. They draw an audience now, however, much to Amy's chagrin as she rights herself in the air and lands in a three-point crouch, soles shrieking across the tarmac before she slaps down a calloused palm to halt her movement.
"You certainly strike hard enough to be a soldier!" She calls across the gap between them, satisfied indeed that his man is no 'grunt'. Inhaling deeply, she pushes herself to her feet, eyes narrowing as she starts forward toward him. Her stride is measured, and somewhat slow. With each passing step, the road and the paving stones around them seem to dim, fading from view as it obscured by an eerily sudden mist. Gray-white tendrils loop and billow underfoot as the Templar closes in, and then abruptly draws to a halt.
"Hmph!" The woman throws herself into an uppercut, twisting from the hip to drive her arm skyborne. There is no fist made however - and the blow falls several metres short of the Irishman. But from below, the fog rises, seething upward, and solidifying. As the Templar's fingertips close over one another, Faolan will find his ankles grasped by whiplike protrusions. And then Amy's fist drops like a smith's hammer, an exhalation of breath carrying with it the decisive action of the mist as it /hauls/ her opponent toward the ground.
COMBATSYS: Amy successfully hits Faolan with Quagmire.
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Amy 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Faolan
There is a light 'heh' in response, but surprisingly the Irishman seems to be biting his tongue in this case instead of saying anything. He seems more caught up on gauging what Amy may do next instead of offering some sort of banter. She seems pretty strong as well as fast so he is going to have to be careful. Unfortunantly he doesn't seem to be careful enough in this case. He has seen some moves where the physical movements are more a distraction than anything. That is why when that strike of Amy's isn't anywhere near him he quickly looks about. He looks down just in time to seem himself entangled by the mist and while he tries to resist he is ultimately slammed into the ground.
Once the tendrils ease up their grip the Ikari starts to get back to his feet. One eye is squinted almost shut as he tries to clear the cobwebs and refocus on things. "Tricky lil minx." he says with a chuckle and scratches at a cheek. He then takes a few steps forward and he uses his bata like a club as he swings it about to slam it into the right shoulder of the fighter. "Guess I might have to pull out a few of my tricks soon enough too." he muses.
COMBATSYS: Amy blocks Faolan's Medium Strike.
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Amy 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Faolan
The mists part with the arrival of Faolan in their midst, floating away to resume their deceptively gentle billowing elsewhere. When not willed by the Templar, it seems this strange energy moves almost like the natural phenomena it parodies. Almost; at least enough to fool a layman. Though it seems the Ikari is far from that - the sting of his own mystic ability still playing about the woman's midriff as she lowers her arm and steps back into her stance, meeting his advance with a curt nod.
"Don't hold back--" She shifts to meet the incoming strike, a foot sliding back to absorb the impact as the same arm lifts, bearing the brunt of the bata upon the tightly wound muscles of her forearm. "--on my account, Mr. Sheehan." A twist of the wrist stops the blow from further numbing, and also sets her up to try and seizes the striking rod. If her fingers can maintain their grip, she steps in and around the Irishman, pulling his own weapon taut against his throat in a sudden and painful motion.
"Show me how an Ikari fights at his best!" Releasing him, and the bata, with a rapid forward shove, she is immediately back in her ready posture - guarded and light upon the balls of her feet, eyes shining as she prepares to react.
COMBATSYS: Faolan fails to interrupt Choke Hold from Amy with Jig Kick.
- Power fail! -
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Amy 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Faolan
Maybe there is something in what he tries to do that gets frowned upon. It must be bad to try and kick a person of God in the naughty bits. Even when the woman is moving to get behind Faolan he goes to mule kick her in not such a polite way. The problem is he wasn't expecting her to try and choke him out with his own weapon. The motion of pulling the bata gainst his throat makes him all right the hell over since he was balanced on one foot and instead he has to slam the kicking foot back down to try and maintain his balance.
They finally manage to seperate and he rubs at his throat a bit while grumping slightly. "Aye, looks like it ain't my night is all." he says in response as he takes another deep breath. he is going to need to think about what to do next here. Most of his plans just don't seem to be working. He takes his initial defensive stance and takes a deep breath once again. "All right. Lets try this again."
Bouncing off her heels just the once, the Templar watches the frustrated Irishman quietly after he sinks into his defensive posture. After considering his words for a second or two, she dips her chin in a faint bow, allowing her hands to lower momentarily before bringing them together before her. She smiles broadly and her cheeks dimple, the expression carrying a gleam of mischief as she cracks the knuckles of her right hand against the palm of the left, shifting into an amateur boxer's stance.
"Maybe a bit more rough and tumble, hmm?" It's a teasing question, though she does let the playful edge fade from her face as she settles, drawing and releasing a breath. She has been compelled to enjoy herself - she is even a little determined to, but she will still take her opponents seriously, and treat them with respect. Faolan is approached with no less a wary step than she has used throughout the bout, and it is clear she is not entirely new to a striking style. There is grace to her movements, and control.
"Ha!" Feinting in with a snapping jab from the left, she aims to drive her punch over the bata, before following with a hooking right to the side. And then, she twists at the hip a third time to complete the combination with a low leg kick; a blow she drives home with a sharp protesting slap from the shaken material of her jeans.
COMBATSYS: Faolan just-defends Amy's Light Kick!
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Amy 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Faolan
The moment to collect himself is something badly needed. He needs to get that frustration out so he can concentrate on showing what he can do instead of looking like a fool. He didn't oblige for a demonstration to look like a punk. He watches the woman's movements and for the first time he thinks he has her timing down this fight. Those strikes hit wood instead of Irishman as each punch slams into that bata. The kick also is lashed out and he catches catches the brunt of that without problem. That causes a bit of a grin and he pushes at that foot to try and throw Amy off balance.
That is when he presses with a quick counter attack of some sort. If he can keep her off balance that will help out quite a bit in the long right. Both hands grip one end of that bata as he jumps upwards, a rare time he leaves the ground as he raises that bata high over his head. He then swings downward with all his might in an attempt to slam that bata right on the top of the woman's head. He hopes his mum will forgive him for this one. Then again what she doesn't know won't hurt him.....he hopes.
COMBATSYS: Amy fails to interrupt Power Strike from Faolan with Improvised Throw.
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Amy 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Faolan
There's a slight widening of eyes from Amy, each defended strike carrying with it a heightening in her estimation of the Ikari. But she follows through regardless, perhaps putting a little more of herself behind the kick than she truly needs to - her blood up now, heart beating a little faster as adrenaline starts to take hold. Unfortunately the Irishman's unbalancing act works beautifully, and she lands flat-footed as the leading leg is forced to come down earlier than planned. A breathless curse escapes the woman, but she acts quickly - throwing an arm up...
Only to miss the incoming bata by an inch, fingers brushing past the gnarled wood that ultimately strikes her firm and true upon the skull. Lights flash momentarily in the Templar's vision as she steps aside, ensuring her guard is still raised as she watches Faolan through eyes hastily swimming to refocus. "Nicely done," she offers, with a bit of a grin. Pain be damned; she's enjoying herself, and possibly even because of it. "Got any more for me?"
The Ikari manages to land in a crouch and pop back up to his full height quickly. It looks like he managed to at least get the drop on Amy somewhat at least for a few brief moments there. "I might have something here and there." he says and reaches up to tug on his hat to make sure it is firmly on his head still. He doesn't want to get too carried away, though. The woman probably still has plenty of fight in her and getting cocky will have him eating pavement again.
He decides to keep pressing on though. He drives forward again as he lowers his shoulder to slam it into Amy with another attempt to throw the woman off balance since it worked well the first time. The follow up in this case isn't just a strike with his bata, though. Instead it is just somethig that will lead to more head trauma if it hits. A rather nasty headbutt aimed to wherre the top of his head will hit her square on the chin if it connects.
COMBATSYS: Amy blocks Faolan's Sheehan Special.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Amy 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Faolan
The Templar is prepared for it this time, the smile still grazing her lips as she checks the shoulder by twisting her torso and shifting a leg back. She is forced to exhale, but is able to resume calmly breathing as the majority of the force is expelled down, through her root and into the pavement. There is - of course - a follow-up, and she rather feistily decides to counter this in the most direct and straightforward way possible...
She meets Faolan's incoming forehead with an open palm and stretched fingers, basically slapping him in the face and forcing the headbutt away from her with sheer brute force. Amy doesn't lack main strength, it seems, and though a fearsome jolt runs down her arm she is able to push the Irishman back. It's impressive enough by itself, but as he stumbles she chases him - springing off the toned muscles of her trailing leg and hammering forward with her opposite arm, driving a second palm heelfirst toward the Ikari, but this time aiming for his stomach. And with the utmost vigour.
"Sei-YAAAHH!!"
Banking on his own defences being flimsy, she seeks to force the strike home with a dynamic burst of effort from her entire form. At the moment the already-ferocious blow should hit, the gathered mist wells up from below, tendrils grasping for her forearm and searing in eerie spirals up her wrist toward the hand. It happens in the instant she twists her arm, pressing up underneath the ribcage as her energy explodes from her calloused flesh into a localised tornado - seeking to batter the charming soldier from within, striking at the very centre of his being.
It's quite a technique; it leaves the woman gasping.
COMBATSYS: Amy successfully hits Faolan with Trembling Palm.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Amy 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Faolan
The fact he doesn't land a solid hit makes Faolan the one slightly off balance. His attempt to recover quickly becomes problematic when he is trying to defend himself at the same time. His bata ends up being raised a bit too high and instead Amy lands a solid hit against him that sends him staggering back and he falls down to one knee where he is taking a moment to catch his breath. "If the priest is as at least as good as you then color me impressed. You church people can back some wallop." He laughs a bit and gets to his feet again.
He slips back into his stance, though he keeps his legs straight and his brow furrows some. He has been learning to deal with controlling his energy a bit better, but it does take quite a bit of concentration on his part. There is that crackling sound again and that energy he used earlier starts to crackle and run from his hands into the bata. His teeth grit and that energy begins running down his arms entirely to as he gives a nod to Amy without saying anything. He doesn't want to risk breaking his concentration and mess up.
COMBATSYS: Faolan gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Amy 0/-------/=======|=======\======-\1 Faolan
"He's stronger than I am."
It's spoken without distaste, a frank appraisal based only on the short time she has spent in the presence of Elias. He radiates a quiet sense of power that tells her - sure as anything - that this is the gospel truth. Beyond this there is the plain and simple fact, that his reputation precedes him, and hers does not. She is a minnow. The thought makes her laugh, an unwitting response to Faolan's own. "Although," she admits, withdrawing her hand and straightening her back, "I have no idea if he's /better/."
Sucking faintly on her bottom lip, Amy sinks back into her heels, massaging at the wrist of her previously striking arm as she does so. Her hand appears to be quivering, bucking uncontrollably back and forth after driving forth the blow. It's not entirely healthy, though she seems mostly unconcerned, raising her guard after a moment with a gentle exhalation. A wary-eyed gaze watches the display by the Irishman, before the Templar focuses her own power.
It happens quickly, the mist springing once more from the ground, and this time remaining - as though a curtain had abruptly been raised about the scene. It's alarming, it's jarring, and it's not something she is often inclined to do. Glimpsed through the looping tendrils, Amy does not relocate from her position, does not use the mist to conceal herself. She merely twists one wrist around, before opening the fingers of that hand. Stormy blue eyes flare as they meet with Faolan's through the haze.
"The question is, exactly how good are you?"
The faint howl of gathering energies may go unnoticed over her words, crystal-clear as they cut across the street. It is the only warning that it is given, before a wraithlike figure suddenly /erupts/ from within the gray-white swathes. It is indistinct at first, but gains mass and clarity in the half-second it takes to clear the distance to the Irishman, soon visible as a rather precise simulacrum of the Templar herself. A ghostly palm is outstretched, aimed to plow directly into her waiting opponent.
"Think fast, soldier."
COMBATSYS: Faolan blocks Amy's Night Errant.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Amy 1/-------/=======|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Faolan
Stronger? Well now Faolan is colored impressed. Amy seems to pack some punch and she considers herself a minnow as well. It makes him get a bit of an amused grin as he just nods. The energy that was coursing through him seems to fade and disappear completely not long afterwards. He still looks a bit wore out, perhaps a bit more from trying to concentrate on that state he was in. It seems that he is wore out enough that even though he finds that blast of energy coming his way he doesn't feel like avoiding it. All he can do is raise his bata and take the brunt of the blast. He holds his ground this time and the bata itself seems to absorb most of the blast.
"Hey, for minnows I think we are doing all right." he says and holds the bata in one hand as the energy surges along it's length once again to gather into the tip of the gnarled staff. He takes a deep breath and thrusts the bata forward, the gathered energy sailing off of it as the ball or black energy crackles and seeks to slam into Amy. If she doesn't manage to get ou of the way she is greeted with another nice electrical shock like she recieved earlier.
COMBATSYS: Amy interrupts Bata Blast EX from Faolan with Mist Guardian.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Amy 1/------=/=======|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Faolan
Amy draws herself up as her summoned wraith crashes against a solid guard, and as she does so the mists whip subtly in toward her. As though gathering, forming around their mistress as she watches Faolan's subsquent motions across the partially-obscured battlefield. That electrical blast promises fearsome things for the Templar, and yet when it comes calling it finds her very much at home. It parts the mist as though it were nothing, twin waves of the stuff billowing away as though before a greater force. It comes within an inch of hitting her...
Before the young woman gives a toss of her head, sinking a little deeper into her heels. With an unearthly howl, the Dragon's Breath launches itself in a torrent, powerful gray-white tendrils criss-crossing before the Templar to form a shield. A war wages between the two conflicting forms of chi - the apparent transience of Amy's eerie fog proving a match for Faolan's crackling black globe. Their violence ends with an explosion, a shockwave blast that should by rights send the woman soaring backwards.
And yet, there she is, her form silhouetted as she plows through the dissipating energies, quite literally leaping straight at Faolan with a screaming beast of a jump-kick, spinning as she flies to bring one denim-clad around, propelling a harsh and unforgiving sole straight into the Ikari's waiting jaw. She says nothing, rebounding from the strike to land in a crouch, breath coming fast and heavy, but controlled. Once she is sure her opponent is still standing, she rises to her feet, hesitating only to brush dislodged bangs from her eyes before she is ready once more.
There was many things going through the Ikari's mind when he was thinking about his plan of attack. The fact that Amy just barreled through with it with an unbelievable amount of energy was not one of the results he was expecting. This woman has much more control over her power and in a way the Ikari is rather jealous. One day he will master things better himself, but for now all he can do stare in surprise before getting slammed hard by that fist to his jaw. There is a cracking sound as he staggers back several steps then keels over to land on his side. It looks like he might finally be down before he begins to move.
He starts to sit up and the bata is used to help him get to his feet. One eye is squinted almost closed and he is breathing heavily while being a bit wobbly. That hurt like a bitch, but he can't allow himself to go down just yet. He lurches forward and shakes his head about. "Oi, pretty strong. Wouldn't be a proper merc if I let that finish me off, though." he says and despite looking so beat up he is actually quick in his movements suddenly. It is a surge of pretty much whatever is left of his energy as he aims a powerful thrust with his bata right into Amy's stomach. If he manages to connect he starts swinging that bata about like a man possessed. Each limb of the girl would be hit by the gnarled staff. He would follow up the body blows with a sweeping motion to take the woman off her feet before quickly raising his bata upwards and bringing it down to help drive her into the ground.
COMBATSYS: Amy fails to interrupt Hair of the Dog EX from Faolan with Bitter Crusade.
[ \\\ < > /////// ]
Amy 1/----===/=======|==-----\-------\0 Faolan
COMBATSYS: Amy can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\ <
Faolan 0/-------/-----==|
"Indeed you wouldn't," Amy quips back to the Irishman, amusement glittering in her stormy blue eyes -- a trace of actual, honest-to-goodness pleasure shining through as he closes in with the motion that began this endeavour. This time however, the woman does not keep to the basics; and rather than turn her body to deflect the full force of the bata, she attempts to seize it with a darting hand, grasping fingertips somewhat slowed by a mounting fatigue and therefore just a fraction too late. Her breath leaves her lungs in a hiss.
What follows is inevitable from there, as the mercenary proves why exactly he is a professional, each strike aimed with a brawler's scrappy perfection to work her over precisely where needed. Every deflection she attempts is thwarted, though attempt she does, striving on several more occasions to snatch the bludgeoning weapon from Faolan. But she can never succeed, until with the penultimate blow she is most assuredly grounded, slamming down /hard/ upon her back. In spite of it all, she actually starts to laugh a heartbeat before it is finished, the final strike cutting off the sound as her entire frame arches off the floor.
It is testament to the man's skill that this is precisely what was required - just a little bit less, one missed or forgotten blow, and the Templar would still be in the fight. As it is, she struggles momentarily to right herself, before falling back with a gasp, eyes lidding as she recovers her wits. "But," she notes after a moment, tone pained but clear, "It seems that you are. So." She cracks an eye open, peering up at Faolan, "Do you boys have any good remedies for severe bruising?"
It certainly seems he went all out. He is glad he managed to chase those kids off earlier because even though he is alot better than that group he is just too damn tired after this to probably be handle them without some trouble. Even once he is done he actually slumps onto his knees and he breathes heavily. He glances towards Amy when she speaks up. "Nah, just suck it up is what I have always been told." Unless there is a limb being lost or the like there isn't much the Ikari consider needing a doctor for.
He shifts to where he is sitting on the ground and kind of resting against the bata as he gives the woman a pat with a hand. "Not bad, though. If ya weren't a churchy I would almost suggest to take up the life of a merc." he says and grins. He also takes a look around and at least in the general area there are no troublemakers around which is nice. "Gimme a moment to get my breath and I will help ya to where you are staying if you need it."
"'Suck it up'?" Her eyebrow arches at that, but she laughs anyway - the sound regrettably dying in a choking cough, as her quivering gut sees fit to remind her precisely how many times it has been struck in the last ten minutes. Lying back on the pavement as though it were the most comfortable bed in Christendom, Amy folds her arms across her middle and releases another calming breath. "Sounds good to me."
As she continues to lie there, his offer draws a faint shake of the head. The Templar may be battered but she is still driven by pride; which draws her to another, very pertinent point. Suddenly she opens both eyes, regretting it the instant that she does so, as her vision begins to swim and blur. But she fights it, maintaining her composure as she glances over at Faolan.
"I wasn't entirely honest with you." And nor is she now; it was a matter of not stating what wasn't asked. But this is splitting hairs. "'Churchy'," she echoes him with a faint, weary half-grin, "I may be, but we're not so different from one another. You take your orders, and I take mine. Since you were so gracious as to tell me where yours come from... I'm not just a little religious girl whose daddy ran away to join the army. I'm a Knight Templar." It's said with a complete lack of irony, though she does have the presence of mind to keep smiling - it /does/ sound ludicrous to most people.
She pauses to shift position, getting herself up on one elbow with a grunt of effort, lifting her free hand to massage at the back of her neck. But she keeps her attention on Faolan as she continues, "There's a lot of forces at work in this world. I'm sure your people know it. And I'd like to think, Ikari-" It's spoken almost like one would say 'sir' or 'milord'. An honorific. "-that despite our differences we'd be prepared to work together someday. Might be quite something to see."
He had a feeling she wasn't going to let him carry her about, but hey, may as well make the offer. A no never hurt anyone. If the situation was reveresed he probably would give a similar response. That goes with the whole 'suck it up' comment. He gets beat down and just has to drag his sorry ass home. He does raise a brow when she mentions not being fully honest. The whole Knight Templer thing kind of goes over his head, but he just nods figuring it is something similar to what he does....only more religious.
"Work together? Hell, I don't see why not. You kick more ass than some of the guys and gals in my unit. That is for sure." He finally is finding the energy to get to his feet even if he is still leaning on his bata a bit heavily. He does offer a hand though to help Amy up if she so chooses to accept that offer at least. "All right. The ground ain't that comfy. Lets go get coffee or something at least." Maybe he can find a nice ice cooler he can fit in and just relax for a few moments too. Though the owners of most establishments might have a problem there.
COMBATSYS: Faolan has ended the fight here.
"Ha!" The Templar barks her amusement at Faolan's reply. "Well, if they ever need somebody to train with, send them my way. I'm so used to ending up flat on my back, it might do me some good to return the favour." As he moves on to mentioning the pavement, she shifts a little, wrinkling her nose as she considers the idea that it's really not worth bedding down here. After a moment, she decides he's right, and she glances at the extended hand.
Apparently that's an offer Amy will accept, allowing the Irishman to help her regain her footing, only complaining slightly as her body bends in ways it does not want to bend; not without banking a solid eight hours' sleep. She pauses to stretch out her legs, and her back, before looking to Faolan with a nod. "Coffee it is. Wouldn't be right to end an evening like this without poisoning my body. Lead on---" she seems to hesitate, "Actually what is your rank?"
Log created on 14:38:00 01/12/2011 by Amy, and last modified on 17:23:53 01/15/2011.