Description: While the police have their tools and training, and the superpowered have their abilities, nobody can come close to the simple efficiency of knowing the right people, and knowing the right places. Varvara Economou and Shiden Renge have both heard the rumors about a global cult, and both know the other through mutually appreciated infamy. They've teamed up to scour Metro City's notorious Slums district for information on this new global phenomenon - and to collect on an MCPD bounty posted for information on cult happenings. These two have connections and tricks up both sleeves, but coincidence and savvy might have gotten them in a little too far over their heads! Varvara and Shiden blunder into one of Metro City's increasingly many cult gatherings, an incredible opportunity to get a better idea of what exactly is happening, but also substantially DANGEROUS. (WARNING: fairly gory, not for the faint of heart)
Odd times call for odd things; rumors of cultists and zealots have suffused the underground. Some rumors were good--but most bad. See, the criminal element doesn't like their apple carts upset--and the infusion of a possibly crazy religious element upsets the apple cart quite firmly. That the MCPD has a bounty up for information... well, that's just a convienient prod for Shiden to use on Varvara. He's already promised her all the reward money should they find anything.
They'd make an odd couple, so to speak, the youngish Asian man, relatively well-dressed, and the grungy, street person Varvara, who has resisted nearly all attempts of Shiden to enculture her. But that's her deal. Shiden's put out some feelers through contacts--being a 'reliable' mercenary has its perks--and he's heard of a rumored meeting, at an abandoned warehouse. So he'd texted the location and time to Varvara, trusting her to arrive on her own...
He's just outside the warehouse, just across the street--clothed in a dark, wool fedora and a tan trenchcoat, the sort of getup that either makes him stand out as some sort of film noir buff or makes him just like most of hte other people out and about, vaguely mysterious and dangerous.
The plane trip to Metro was a great source of promise for new opportunities she couldn't find in Southtown. The in-flight food was... still not edible. (Given her extremely wide definition of 'edibility' this says a lot.)
She fits in among the lowlives of Metro City rather well, truth be told. Strong enough to keep hands off, and a curious inclination for the people of America to throw away so much food! So much of it! She's picking off the last meat on some turkey bone while staring at her cell to make sure she's got the time and place right.
Where Shiden uses stealth, Varvara is either not of the mental inclination to think of doing the same or just doesn't consider herself to be that out of place out by the warehouse. She catches a glimpse of Shiden from near a curb, and tosses the bone away. It's time, then, if he's seeing him in that getup now.
She probably should've gotten more clothes herself, it's kind of cold here this time of year.
The warehouse itself is an almost entirely unassuming affair. Several windows are broken out fully or in part, jagged edges reflecting the dwindling light cast by the darkening sky, Metro lacking streetlights in this decidedly downtrodden district - or at least, lacking lights that function. There are no guards visible outside, little sound coming from within. Now and then, the hint of a low, ominous chant may reach sensitive ears. Those sensitive to energy, however, would find this a place of great darkness. The dissonant coalescence sensed many places worldwide seems to course around this node, a whirlpool rushing inward, swirling wildly, darkly, consuming... distorting.
The relative peace of the near-deserted streets near this place, as gangbangers and the destitute escape outwards as possible, leaving surrounding warehouses and tenements even -more- abandoned.. is broken suddenly. By a high pitched, agonized, extended /scream/.
Shiden nods to his erstwhile teammate and bottomless stomach. "Varvara," he says, greeting her with a terse greeting--completely used to her penchant for eating garbage, as disgusting as he finds it. "This is the place," he says, about to give a further briefing on what he's found out--when there's a scream. A long, agonized, high-pitched scream.
Shiden isn't queasy about violence, mind. Blood and guts don't bother him--the simple fact that he is attempting to revive the killing aspect of his family martial arts attets to that. But he doesn't approve, necessarily, of this kind of thing. Violence is a tool to be used with precision.
"No time for it," he says, "Let's go, Varvara." Heroic? Only unintentionally, as he crosses the street at a rapid pace, his stride brisk. There's little time for sneaking around--Shiden isn't even going to try. When he reaches the door, he simply winds up and slams his right leg into the door, intending to kick it straight in.
Can't fault free food. One man's trash, etc, etc, etc.
"Fine," she says with no huge burst of enthusiasm on her part, if only because she's still working out bits and pieces of irritation about how customs really grilled her top to bottom through the world's greatest stress reliever - food. (That she got through into the nation at all is bound to put their jobs into jeopardy.)
Then there's the scream. she is notably a little more jumpy in comparison, if only because it's so loud, so sudden within the heavy and foreboding air of these slums. She's even deluded into thinking someone might be ready to bum-rush them out a nearby /alley/, as seen when she tenses up and raises her arms while looking in completely the wrong direction.
When she looks back over her shoulder, there Shiden is, kicking down the door. She pays the darkness nearby one last threatening glance - as though she herself were really anything more than a public nuisance in the big picture - and follows suit fron behind.
The front door is reinforced, relative to the rest of the derelict - not that that's saying a lot to someone who can focus the kind of force Shiden projects against it. Within, the view is one of a religious Mass gone horribly awry. The warehouse is lit by bronze sconces that burn with flickering luminescence - not crimson flame, but a dark, purple-edged flicker of a decidedly unearthly blue, burning nearly black. A pile of bodies in various states of decay veritably fills one corner of the warehouse, the older corpses near the bottom, the buzz of flies ever-constant. The concrete of the floor has been etched with ancient runework, unidentifiable to any remembered script.
Gathered towards the center of the chamber, a single, empty space bordered along the ceiling and walls by a series of half-collapsed stairways and catwalks, are at least a dozen figures of varying stature and gender, all clad in robes of black and rich, deep purple. Their features are hooded, eyes burning points of corrupted light as seven pairs turn as if in synch to stare at Shiden and Varvara as they burst through the door. Fixed to the front of a dark altar, somewhat out of place here, is a young woman, the newest of their victims, shackled in a style that suggest she might soon be quartered... as her entrails are emptied out the front, blood letted over a raised dais enscriped with deeper runes, a searing energy running through as the blood runs through, fills the runes as if drawn inexorably. The stone itself remains clean - relatively speaking - as the crimson fluid fills the etchings.
The two apparent 'leaders', though not discernable from the others at a glance, rise from their position kneeling in front of the gruesome sacrifice, one holding a long, wavy-bladed dagger, wet with blood and sinew. "Go. Take the vessel to the next site. We will make the impurators pay for this blasphemy." Apparently, Shiden and Varvara don't even get a chance to explain. The dozen in the 'congregation' begin to move, gathering up the circular stone dais, and cooperating to move it towards the back of the warehouse, as the two leaders step forward, drawing back their hoods to reveal gauntly savage visages, one older and white-haired, the other younger and dark-haired, both eyes bloodshot centers of a light that seems to mirror the torches themselves.
He takes it all in at a glance; the door slamming must have interrupted something. "Reinforced door," he murmurs, half to himself, as he scans the area. Hell, he's no noir hero. Casually, Shiden doffs the hat, reaching out to his right to hang it on a convienient protruding nail, then shrugs out of the finely-made trenchcoat and drops it to the dusty floor, revealing a white dress shirt, cuffed at the elbow, black vest, black slacks and shoes, a dark red tie looped around his neck and tucked under the vest.
"I doubt Mr. Chang appreciates his warehouse being used in this manner," he quips, somewhat detachedly. He wasn't -planning- on violence, per se, but when he sees the tableau, he figures that it's inevitable. When the cultists pull the daggers, and unhood, he knows it is.
"Sorry, but I'm reasonably sure we can't let you do that." If nothing else, -someone'll- pay for this information and anything they recover. What's done with it afterwards isn't Shiden's problem.
"Varvara. Let's take them down, fast. It's life or death now, anyways," he says, as he moves into the warehouse proper, his gait hurried but cautious.
COMBATSYS: Shiden has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Cultist1 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Varvara has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Shiden takes no action.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Cultist1
When you're someone who has lived in squalor for a good long time, you see a lot of things. A lot of disgusting things, a lot of bad things, often being a part of these bad or disgusting things just to live to the next day... and further partake in bad and disgusting things.
The stench almost goes unnoticed, until she sees them in the unnatural fires. Her nostrils flare loudly, just one of several disrupting sounds. The dying woman is a terrifying sight unto itself, to say the least.
For all she puts up with trying to come off as strong and capable the only way she knows how, she is visibly shaken - and so the vast gap in experience between Shiden and herself is ever clear.
'It's life or death now, anyways,' Shiden says. That's generally how she's always seen things when it came to fighting. For her, it /is/ life or death in ensuring she has enough to get her next meal.
She doesn't give Shiden any verbal acknowledgement, her lips not even letting loose the typical greeting as she crouches down and leaps forth, seeking to tackle the younger, darker-haired cultist into a wheel throw against the cold warehouse floor with its eldritch etchings, a loud cry as a futile gesture in itself to instill some sort of presence, some sort of danger to these far more dangerous people.
COMBATSYS: Varvara successfully hits Cultist1 with Fleeing Musician.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Cultist1
"Irrelevant." The elder zealot intones in response to Shiden's dry observation, "As you will both soon be, as well!" The cackle is cut short by the sudden assault as Varvara pounces for his comrade, the cultist unbalanced, flipped... and slammed unceremoniously into the resilient concrete. There's a slight crack with the impact, and as the stone is drawn further towards the warehouse exit... the apparently drawn sigils along the floor begin to burn from existance, dissipating inward with a slow, audible sizzle and the distinct scent of sulfur. Rotten eggs. It adds to that 'decaying corpse' potpourri the place has going on. The dying girl whimpers helplessly as the Zealot's dagger is put to use anew. This time, the older, or perhaps aged before his time man drags it along his own palm, opening a deep and ragged gash in his hand, which is then thrust towards Varvara, "Your obstinance is wasted! Death. is. coming!" The cackle returns in maddened, full force, as the Cultist pops up alongside Varvara as well, seeking to wrap an arm around the young fighter's throat as he leaps around behind her, clearly keen on crushing her larynx.
"Yes! Yes! Show her! Spill blood for our god!" In this case, the blood the cultist speaks of seems to be the Zealot's, bubbling bursts of explosive energy rushing from that wound with a sickening burble, the sound of slogging mud accompanying the searing eruption of the bulbous, distorted vomit of blood that spills forth in an undulating, misshapen mass.
Varvara's status as an attack dog notwithstanding, Shiden doesn't want his team's chances ruined for the King of Fighters. She takes first blood--and garners all their attention in turn. Shiden can't just let that happen, now, can he? So he takes off across the warehouse, nimbly, as the older man slices his own hand open--and if the man wants to -cut-, well... Shiden can do that. He doesn't even need a knife to do it.
As he closes in on the zealot, his hands form clawed positions, and he crosses his arms at the forearm--and then they glow orange, a hot, malevolent color as Shiden brings his chi to bear, aiming to cut furrows into the Zealot's body with his fingers, like the claws of a great hunting cat, hissing with deadly chi.
"Now now, two on one isn't -fair-, is it?" he says, mockingly, as he strikes.
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 successfully hits Varvara with Gospel Blast.
- Power hit! -
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Varvara blocks Cultist1's Holy Lock.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Cultist1
Varvara ensures at least a minimal distance between herself and the younger of the two cultists with the end of that throw, distracted if only from the foul odor that sees her gagging at least once for air that is slightly less trashy than this. It's a nearly fatal distraction.
She looks up with the older one's warning, a sneer on her face against his threat of death being combing. The cackling. The...
"Uuuaaagh!" The bubbling bursts of explosive energy splashes all about her. It blinds her, it stuns her, it sends her stumbling back towards the very cheers of the younger cultist... and his grasp. It is only through the grace of her own physical strength that she wrestles with that arm trying to crush her throat - the strength of the will to fight for some food, pit against a soul wholly dedicated to this bizarre cause.
Whatever the case is, she struggles to break free. Hissing with the foul, searing mess dripping off her face without much ability to see beyond it, she clenches one of her hands as tight as she can around her captor's wrist, squeezing hard enough that a clear and visible energy escapes through the cracks of her hand as if to empower her to just crush this part of the younger cultist outright.
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 blocks Varvara's Lion Crush.
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Shiden 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 fails to interrupt Pouncing Tiger Strike from Shiden with Smite EX.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Cultist1
As Shiden joins the fray, the Zealot laughs, extends his palm, as if seeking to shove the bleeding hand directly in the clawing warrior's face - a decided, demanding gesture to stop him. If, that is, the claws didn't rip right through the first ripples of chi, and into the elder leader behind them. The white-haired cultist falls away, blood seeping into his robe form the wounds beneath the stroke, even if the garment itself barely rips, "You concern yourself with fairness? It is... a bit late." He gasps our hoarsely, sneering at Shiden, "The only options now are to prove yourself useful. Serve... or die!" Haughty words for one just torn away from his adversary, as he seeks to right himself from a one-kneed crouch.
The younger Cultist, on the other hand, centers his own energy, a rush surging down his arm as Varvara's crushing charge is broken with a rending flex, strained and pained muscle torn free of that crushing grip, the dark-haired servant of Orochi clenching his jaw, protesting, "They are not even /worthy/!" as white-cored, black lightning erupts from his fingertips, a scream of agony accompanying the channeled dark energy, the quick of his fingernails smoking, bright red as the bolt of energy is directed in an effort to blast Varvara back from the assault, point-blank with the brutal, arcing eruption.
"Oh, but I -am- useful," replies Shiden; he uses the momentum from his first attack to continue forward. Varvara will have to deal with her target--Shiden can't let this one go. Not even on priniciple. "And I'm not really concerned with fairness. Only, see, the..." He stops. He was going to say 'lady', but... "... the person you're trying to kill right there, is an acquiantance of mine. Can't just let you stab her or whatnot."
With the man still crouched, Shiden hurls himself forward, as if he were taking one very very long step--planting his left foot just outboard of the man's position and then swinging his right knee up and around, intending to smash it into the zealot's temple.
A shot to the temple can rattle, disorient... and certainly can injure, if the blow is performed correctly, and perhaps that's what Shiden intends, to do some lasting damage--brain damage.
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 successfully hits Varvara with Dogma Surge.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Cultist1
The line might be drawn at stabbing, but energy blasts can't be that far down the list of things that Varvara probably should not be personally subjected to.
With the release from her grip is her one moment to pull out of the grip, having trouble breathing in fresh air atop what the younger of the two violent cultists nearly did to her /throat/, wiping away blood and sweat on her face. Some of that blood is probably hers... not that she's ever really considered what another scar would look like on her, she's a bit too far gone for caring about scars on her face, she feels.
The demands to serve or die, the cry that the two of them aren't even /owrthy/. What the hell is this?
"You're sick," she spits through a soft gasp, her retort met with the lightning blast that strikes her head on in the chest - and even seems to go all the way through her, a pained scream that still yet doesn't match the intensity of the dying, whimpering girl.
Her back hits one of the walls with a loud thud, enough to create spider cracks as her fuzzy vision regards the terrifying visage of a man so dedicated to something well above her scope. Blood pours out the side of her mouth where she bit her cheek on impact, running forward again like - to use Shiden's favorite analogy - an attack dog against the warehouse floor turned into an occulti nightmare, raising both arms above herself in a tell-tale sign of what she is intending to do as she leaps back at the younger cultist, a yell as she tries to bring down both arms in an aerial hammer punch upon them.
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 fails to interrupt Medium Kick from Shiden with Sanctimony Strike.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 fails to interrupt Strong Punch from Varvara with Sacrificial Shanking.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/----===/=======|====---\-------\0 Cultist1
"You have no say in it! Regardless what happens here, you ar...ggghle" The vehement declaration on behalf of the Zealot is cut off by the collision of Shiden's knee with his skull, a substantial CRACK sounding as he reels to the side, staggering right back down to his knees, blood spat from his mouth this time, his hand leaving a smear on the concrete where the wounded palm is pressed, painfully, to stabilize his fall, ".. ff... fools... burn your only.. only chance." He hacks out, head ringing, dagger barely held onto... despite moments earlier being prepped to intercept the man mid-spinkick.
he Cultist fares little better, gathering a massive charge of energy, crackling down his newly-drawn dagger, the same scent of burning flesh accompanying the draw, the same grimace of intense pain... it's added to by Varvara's fists, the dropped hammer preceding the strike of the knife.. one which was clearly meant to cross that line again, into stabbings of Varv. Instead, the young cultist too is driven to the concrete on his knees, scrambling to recover his footing, panting hard. "We are the FUTURE!" he does declare, defiantly.
"Keep going," Shiden comments, spinning through the knee kick, rotating halfway and switching his stance as he does so--leading with his left now. He's got no compunctions about hitting a man who's down, obviously--but he takes a moment to glance Varvara's way, seeing that she's got her situation well in hand for now. Turning his attention back to his target, his lips turn in a cruel smirk. "I think you'd better contemplate what's going to happen in -your- future," he says, to the older man, "and whether that's going to mean you're going to be buried in a ditch or if you want to live."
Utterly confident--and with every reason to be--the mercenary doesn't let up at all--though he doesn't advance at the older man. Instead, he gathers power in his right hand, that orange energy flaring in his palm again, surging along the limb--and then he thrusts his palm out, releasing a glowing, spherical flare of energy, meant to blow the man down, onto his back.
There are some people where higher causes seem to have no meaning - much like Shiden, Varvara does not relent. In a fight, you don't stop until someone is clearly down. One good, solid blow to the head and the man is still screaming about the future. She doesn't dwell on what she just barely beat to the punch, even as the energy dissipates and a glint of the knife reaches her eye, reflected from the illumination of the foul flames.
She moves behind the pained younger cultist, looking to shove one hand against his neck and shove it to the side, while the other attempts to draw back his arm in an attempt to dislocate or just break his shoulder outright.
"Sick!" She repeats herself. "I'll kill you!" Her teeth clench, bloodied saliva coming out the side of one of her lips.
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 blocks Shiden's Tiger's Shout.
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Shiden 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Varvara successfully hits Cultist1 with Medium Throw.
- Power hit! -
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Shiden 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Cultist1
Snap, crackle, CRUNCH. The younger cultest's arm comes cracking out of its socket, tendons tearing along with the joint itself as he's violently wrenched, the young woman finding -her- chance to get behind him and play do-it-yourself pretzel. Turnabout is fair play. He falls away, gutterally gurgling in agony, a hand rising to his shoulder as he starts to backpedal along the floor, straight -away- from Varvara, "M.. nn.. no, you will be fodder for our Lord! Even my death will only fuel Him!" The Cultist skitters, robes falling over himself, skidding along his backside as eyes fixate on Varvara, filled with sheer hate.
Things go slightly better for his injured elder, though the Zealot is not precisely doing well, either, "Stand stalwart! Even if we fall here, these fools simply accelerate their own DOOM!" The blood-tinged smile spreads wide, menacing on the white-haired man's face, his unnaturally glowing eyes narrowing at Shiden, in turn. "I know what's going to happen. My life.. or death... are irrelevant to your fate." Of this, he seems... coldly, darkly certain.
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 focuses on Cultist1's next action.
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Shiden 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 gains composure.
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Shiden 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Cultist1
"Oh? Well, then," Shiden says, the dapper man smiling at the words--so typical, yet said with such conviction, "then I suppose it doesn't -matter- if we kill you here and now, no?" Of course, the Zealot still has plenty of fight left in him. But that's good. Having that fight in him makes this -interesting- to Shiden. Just killing an old man, there's nothing redeeming in that. "Still, I suppose you're not dead -yet-..." But he, too, can sound as certain as the Zealot.
Shiden's advance is swift, despite a somewhat languid pace to it--like the great prowling hunter he evokes with some of his techniques.
As he closes in on the man telling his younger companion to stand firm--signing, in some way, the man's own death warrant--for Varvara is not known for her restraint either--he wonders how well this man will affirm his own convictions.
The test of that might just be whether he can withstand Shiden's assault--a simple one, really, a quick left-hand feint, which transitions smoothly into a lunging front kick with his trailing right leg, aimed to put the toe of his shoe right into the man's sternum--to snap it if possible.
"What're you even talkin' about," comes Varvara's statement that is not in any way to be a question, but perhaps a declaration of her confusion alongside her complete apathy. She no doubt stands shorter than the cultist whom wrenched himself from her grip, but from this vantage point may very well be legitimately terrifying - a muscled, scarred, bloodied, and scowling woman with little intent to back down.
The reverse is also true, the way the younger cultist stares up at her with those hateful, unnatural eyes. She has never truly encountered anything of that particular magnitude. People who were hungry or had nothing better to do but get into fights with her, sure. But there was a need. Here, she beholds hatred, and for a moment, she is unnerved.
She frowns a little harder, knowing this man in front of him is not quite as far down as she'd like as she takes a stride forward, drawing back a leg briefly, flexing the leg enough to strain the fabric around it... and thrusts it forth in a sweeping motion against the downed cultist, whose hatred may be the only thing that can save them now.
COMBATSYS: Varvara successfully hits Cultist1 with Swollen Foot.
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Shiden 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/---====/=======|=======\=====--\1 Cultist1
COMBATSYS: Shiden successfully hits Zealot1 with Medium Kick.
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Shiden 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/---====/=======|=======\=====--\1 Cultist1
Hesitant or no... Varvara's fighting spirit burns true. Perhaps all the more for her unnerved, disturbed reaction - after all, it behooves her to put the crazed knife-wielder down. "You will seeeee... HRK!" the sweeping kick cracks into the Cultist past his useless arm's failed guard, the young psychotic crashing hard to the side, blood running from several injuries, his arm hanging useless... the knife, however, is passed to the other, "For the Dark God!!" He all but screeches, hoarsely, a little weakly - but with ample passion, slashing outwards violently, repeatedly. The blade is drawn across for Varvara's knees, then reversed and brought back in the reverse grip to seek to plunge it into the side of her leg. This would be used to drag the Cultist up, the dark haried killer seeking to plunge that blade into Varv again, and again, stabbing relentlessly even as blackness overtakes his vision, ringing overcomes his hearing, and he tumbles back to the concrete with or without further assistance.
His elder comrade has little better luck - his chest is kicked, he snaps back to his feet... but not as intended. Staggering backwards, crashing back to the ground, the white haired man gasps and gags, coughing up blood and saliva as he presses a palm to the floor. "Hah. Hahahahahah. AAAAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAA!!!" comes the mania, blood seeping from his wound and into the floor, "/You/ are!" Dead. Already. Blood boils, bubbles, the floor itself undulating with disturbing, unnatural eruptions as the unholy energy cascades outwards, sweeping upwards from the floor and washing directly for Shiden, a gurgling geyser of grotesque power.
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 can no longer fight.
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Shiden 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/---====/=======|
COMBATSYS: Shiden fails to interrupt Gospel Wave from Zealot1 with Immovable Mountain.
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Shiden 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Zealot1
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Varvara 1/---====/=======|
Shiden doesn't reply to the zealot immediately; his focus is on what the man is -doing-... and it doesn't look good. The unholy energy--this... this power. Shiden intends to bust right through it--to break it, and the man, in a single, fell swoop. But it's not to be. The energy ravages him, hurling the Chinese-Japanese man back, ruining his shirt and vest as he slams into a stack of steel shipping containers, trailing fading wisps of that unholy energy.
He strikes the containers with a dull, ringing thud, and lays there for all of two seconds, before peeling himself off the container.
"Sorry, old man," he rasps, before spitting out a gout of blood, "... I'm not dead yet. And I don't believe in -fate-, or -destiny-... I believe in only one thing... myself. My hands, my skill, my strength.. they are all I need..." His own eyes flare with something, if not actual energy, and he returns to the field of battle, prepared to fight to the death.
COMBATSYS: Cultist1 successfully hits Varvara with Doctrine Basics.
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Shiden 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Zealot1
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/=======/=======|
Varvara is plenty familiar with the sensation of things breaking and snapping un her grasp or from her strikes. This one, she puts a whole lot of oomph into, very much ready to see this man stop. She wants those eyes to close. She doesn't want to see those eyes, she doesn't want to hear him talk, and she wants /out of here/. It is her undoing that she puts a bit too much of herself into the sweep, enough to disrupt her usually solid defensive stance after such a thing to see her stumbling towards...
The knife, as the man screams, blood splashing from the knee of the striking leg as it is soon dug into her thigh as a means to pull himself up. For his weakness, in his final shining moments in service of whatever it is he's working for, he gets in stabs in several worrying places up her side, and even her arm a couple times. It's bloody, it's messy, and if that dying woman there can still see the light of day, she might be convinced she's not the only sacrifice today.
She stumbles backwards against his fury before she finally finds the strength to actually push him off and onto the cold concrete, swearing as she bleeds. Her breathing is uneven and rapid, as adrenaline only goes so far to try and take the edge off. To say she's badly hurt is something of an understatement--
She winces as the unholy wave pushes Shiden into the steel containers somewhere close to where she stumbled while that younger cultist was butchering her. This very moment may be, perhaps, the moment where their partnership is truly established.
With the strength in her good arm, she helps pull Shiden up with a bloodied hand (further ruining his nice clothes) as he goes on about not believing in fate, or destiny. Believing in only one thing... himself. His hands, his skill, his strength, they're all he needs.
"Say the word," she growls through her injuries as she falls to a crouch, wincing once as she bends the leg that her opponent had slashed. "Say the word. I'll kill him."
COMBATSYS: Varvara assists Shiden.
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Shiden 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Zealot1
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/=======/=======|
The fight in the younger cultist extinguished, his eyes do close, his voice does cease its ranting, its preaching. He lays still on the floor, badly injured. His elder counterpart looks from the fallen man, to the two fighters, and grins a small, crazy smile. "Believe what you wish... you will soon. see. /OTHERWISE/." The declaration comes with a clenching of bloodied hand, his own energies largely spent hammering out with dark, unnatural power. Then, the Zealot sneers at them, "Soon." Apparently, his own valor is somewhat suddenly limited, and he turns tail.... and runs. Towards the dark altar, towards the torn remains, past the (mercifully) dead sacrifice... towards the back door used by his cohorts when leaving with their bloodied stone.
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 takes no action.
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Shiden 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Zealot1
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/=======/=======|
"No."
The single word is directed at Varvara, as Shiden accepts the hand up. He may not -believe- in anyone but himself, may ultimately not -need- anyone but himself... but help is appreciated. "He's mine." To Shiden, it just isn't comprehensible that he might fail to down this old man. "I'll show him the folly of his ways..."
Step... step... step...
Slow at first, as Shiden tilts his head forward, catching the harsh light of an overhead lamp so that his eyes are shadowed, only half his face visible. "He may think himself the harbinger of doom... but he doesn't understand the word... he's just an old man, getting his thrills off of this... being used for a purpose he can't possibly understand..."
Shiden's arms spread to his sides, his hands taking on the tiger's claw again, that harsh orange energy flickering at his fingertips. "So I'll free him from his miserable existence... I'll SHOW him what -death- really is!!!" And with that, he steps off, lunging, hands out.
It looks like a completely classless, unskilled lunge--but if he -contacts- the Zealot... then the man will find himself shredded, as Shiden's momentum abruptly changes, turning him into a whirling dervish shredding the man from waist to shoulder, only to clmap those glowing fingers into the man's shoulders, pivot, and flip forward, hurling him into the same steel container that he slammed Shiden into.
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 fails to interrupt Raging Tiger from Shiden with Sanctimony Strike.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Zealot1
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/=======/=======|
COMBATSYS: Zealot1 can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Shiden 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/=======/=======|
The Zealot flees, but he does not flee fast enough. Caught in the whirlwind that is Shiden's charge, the cultist is suddenly torn into, ripped by energy and clawed hands, given a taste of what has been unleashed on so, so many others, here. Hurled up and around, he crashes into the steel drum with a loud clang of bone and muscle into metal, crashing broken to the floor. "D.. death comes." He murmurs, likely not speaking of his own. ... then again, it's not clear -what- he thinks he's speaking of, given how garbled and breathless the words are, and that they are followed quickly by unconsciousness, the Zealot falling over further, blood seeping slowly from his body and onto the now-barren concrete. The wave-blade dagger falls from his hand with a dull clatter, and he slumps motionless, bloody gashes drawn up one side and down the other from the maelstrom unleashed on him, taking him from the fight entirely.
"Tch." The voice speaks of disappointment in Shiden's choice of words, but there is a certain pragmatic truth to it being his - that younger cultist did a real number on one of her legs! She could not possibly work up the speed to give pursuit without surges of nerve-wracking pain that would nonetheless stop her from taking more than a few steps anyway.
She is forced to use those containers Shiden was slammed into for support as she sizes them up. They're much, much, much too big for her to lift and throw at the guy, as much as she'd like to, her bloodied hand pressed against it as her free hand - from the highly boodied side of her body - presses itself against whatever wound annoys her the most. This changes a few times within the span of several seconds. One hand is not enough to stop the bleeding.
This lets Shiden do as he will, while she struggles to stay conscious, breathing a bit more rapidly and showing weakness where Shiden chooses to show full strength in his attempt to put an end to this particular madman's days.
She doesn't even really see what Shiden's done to him. She only knows of his success when the zealot's body hits the steel container right next to her, turning her head to confirm it's the body of that guy and not Shiden.
The horrible smells of dead bodies and this whole place finally overcomes her, as she throws up the contents of her stomach upon the prone body of the zealot and falls to her knees. The one suffering the slash wound sends a surge of pain up her leg from pressing down upon it.
COMBATSYS: Varvara takes no action.
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Shiden 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Varvara 1/-======/=======|
Shiden performs a single flip and lands in a crouch, ready to pounce again should it be necessary. But it isn't. The man is... if not dead, then close enough.
"Really, Varvara," he says, with some amount of disdain, "You eat -garbage-... surely a little blood shouldn't make you lose your lunch." Walking over to the zealot, he uses his right foot to flip the man over.
"'Death comes'... you have no idea..." Shiden laughs, darkly, then kneels. "Varvara. If you're done being sick, then call the Metro City PD and inform them of the location. We'll leave it as it is. They can puzzle out what all this was for... but you'll have to stay, if you want to collect the reward." He said it was all hers, but *he* doesn't want to be here for the questioning.
He glances at his clothes, tsks, then heads to where his coat and hat were left, dusting the crumpled coat off as he slings it on, then looks out the door. "Don't tell them you threw up on the body, they won't like that."
There's no denying what Shiden says, but perhaps it speaks to the very differences in their characters and their experiences. Something about this whole venture speaks above and beyond what she thinks to be the worst possible life. Something that goes a step beyond the squalor and poverty she's been subject to all her life.
It's scary, to say nothing of her own injuries. She makes an inscrutable little face at Shiden as she slumps down and tries to hold herself in together best she can. There's a brief, weak nod before she flips open her cellphone, already getting some of her blood all over it. It's too bad, she found a really nice case in the garbage.
Her thumb quivers as she keys in the number to the Metro City PD, fighting to keep her strength up to make the call and maybe even stay alive by the time actual help is on the way. Maybe it's a good thing that Shiden's not going to be staying around for questioning, considering she's basically an obvious immigrant hobo they might toss right back out of America after it's all said and done.
"Fine," she murmurs maybe a little too late to hear.
Log created on 14:17:24 02/02/2011 by Varvara, and last modified on 22:10:58 02/12/2011.