Description: Brett hits the ice and gets to investigating just why the Gulf of Thailand has frozen solid. After many dead ends and days spent wandering aimlessly, he comes across a small unmarked island, and atop the cliffs, seated amongst the ruins of an unknown ancient civilization, Shion awaits. "Turn back now, forget all you've seen here, and I will let you live." His offer refused, a fight begins in earnest. Brett is clearly outmatched, but not for long. Todoh arrives out of nowhere, and Shion is agitated at what this latest, random appearance implies, deciding that he will simply destroy them both. To survive, Brett and Todoh must join together as an unlikely team, and should they win, a great prize will be theirs to claim. Will Brett rise above? Will Todoh prove to have any relevance to the greater plot whatsoever? Will Shion stop wearing orange lipstick? There is only one way to find out.
Stranger in a Strange Land, displaced where he stands, looking for a sign that he no longer has to wander, man.
Bad poetry aside, it's been a strange, arduous, tiring week for Brett. Why he took up this personal task, he has no idea. It's not like he's a guardian of ice or messenger from some diety of ice or something. He just knows winter and knows his way around frozen water long enough to find himself curiouser and curiouser about why the gulf has frozen over so, especially with such little change in the climate itself. And in a world far beyond Duluth, Minnesota, traveling by himself was...hard. It probably was hard enough without the sea in its current state, but without even fish to work off of, he had to rely on the kindness of strangers and some undeveloped forager's instinct....thank god for those boy scout trips.
And it all brought him here. An island that would've been much more difficult to reach if not for the iced over gulf. An island that wasn't on any map. An island with an ominous cliff overlooking ominous ruins. Everything sane in him says 'turn back'. But....he's gone this far. And answers are taunting him and drawing him toward here, he can feel it. "...Grandmama would tan my hide wandering around like this," he mutters to himself before adjusting his helmet and skating on closer to the island, gripping tight on his hockey stick with worn gloves and ratted over padding.
Brett climbs, flies, rockets... It does not matter how he reaches the ruins, only that he does.
They sprawl before him, the remnants of an ancient civilization. Splintered pillars of gold, crumbling walls with faded pictures of fantastic beasts and an eight-headed serpent. What looks to be a Dougong lays shattered on the ground, the corbel wood bracket supports having long since wasted away. There was a pagoda here, perhaps several. All that remains now is this: A broken memory of what once was.
A stone railing surrounds what must be a courtyard, the granite cracked and carvings eroded by the wind and rain. The courtyard, unlike the rest of the landscape, is the only area that is mostly clear of debris.
There is a figure, off to the right, leaning against the weathered stone and waiting patiently. Long hair of brown cascades down their back, but the braided front is discoloured -- a blue that some might describe as royal or brighter. Whether this individual happens to be male or female, it is nigh impossible to tell, even when having drawn closer. The flatness of the chest isn't much of an indicator, not with their fey-like bone structure.
At this person's side, a qiang spear. Its tip is honed and sharp; the light glints off silver in the setting sun. Dark eyes appear, taking in the approach of the intruder, pupils narrowed to calculating pin-points. Whoever it is, they rise and grip the shaft of the spear, swinging it down as they crouch only at first. Elegantly straightening, the toe of a Chinese fighting shoe traces a path through dust and dirt, crossing one slender leg over the other. The spear itself is held perpendicular to the body. A breeze catches their hair and the furred tassel below the blade. Standing as still as a statue, there is no rise or fall of the chest. They do not even breathe.
"Turn back, forget all you've seen here, and I will let you live."
It must be a woman, right? The voice is soft and supple. Too high for a man, too sultry. 'She' gives a prideful toss of the head, guiding the bladed tip of the qiang spear to the side. "There. Leave now." This 'woman' indicates a smooth path that leads back to the ice. It could be a slide, but it is definitely easier than trying to rappel down the side of the cliff. Why hadn't it existed before, or did Brett simply not pay enough attention? Things here aren't much what they appear to be.
The 'woman' allows him time to make a decision, 'her' face an expressionless mask. Choose wisely.
It probably was wise of Brett to invest in skates that could function all of three ways. Stopping to remove the ice blades from them, he opted to simply walk normally, rather than hook on the in-line wheels instead, taking in the dark, decayed surroundings around him. "Geez...." he muttered to himself, removing a glove to trace a thick finger along the faded art before moving forward. Approaching the courtyard, he finds enough clear space that he could consider his skates again...at least until he sees a figure in the corner of his eye.
Quickly bringing his stick up, he eyes the long-haired 'woman'....at least, he THINKS it's a woman?...., finding him tensing up half by surprise, and half by the pressure he senses from her.
Either that or the huge flexible spear they hold. Dumbstruck, he follows the path of that speartip, as it's directed toward the path formed for him. Swallowing a little, it seems like he almost considers it, even as that nagging in the back of his head wonders where the hell it came from to begin with. However, a shake of his head and a steeling of his nerves brings him to turn back toward the spear-wielding 'woman' and shake his head.
"I can't. Not now. I came here for answers. I don't even know if this is where I'll find any, but this ice....all of it's wrong. It feels wrong. It feels...tainted, something like that."
Orange-painted lips turn upwards at their respective corners, the expressionless mask replaced with a smile of sadism. 'She' likes that answer. It's nice when even a weakling finds that he has the courage to meet his end. "I am Shion. I hope you have made peace with your God." The 'woman' says, inclining 'her' head in a bow that is both courteous and mocking, and then 'she' charges.
The qiang spear proves to be quite flexible and does not impede forward locomotion, bending in 'her' grip as the person runs full-tilt, legs blurred while they sprint across the courtyard. The distance between the 'woman' and Brett shrinks at an incredible rate, but Shion does not simply barrel into him, or skewer the skater on the end of the blade...
No, something a little more interesting happens.
As the mysterious 'female' named Shion begins to slow, posture straightening, it is almost as though 'she' is floating. Could that be inertia or something else that the laws of Physics could describe? Meh, possibly. 'She' glides, 'her' feet having left the ground, the tip of the spear brought down and around. The glittering silver cuts through the air in an arc, furred tassel fluttering in protest. It is like watching poetry in motion, at least until it is swung downwards faster than the eye can see, the aim to crack poor Brett's skull open with the shaft (or, if he's really unlucky, the blade itself.)
"How would you like to die?" Shion asks, provided that 'she' is successful. Leaping back with a twirl to a safe distance, the qiang spear almost wrapping around 'her' body, the stance from before is assumed once more. The fey-like individual stands perfectly still, again showing no signs of breathing or even the slightest discomfort. Weirrrrrd.
COMBATSYS: Shion has started a fight here on the top side.
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Shion [W] 0|-------|------=
COMBATSYS: Brett has joined the fight here.
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Shion 0|-------|------=
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Brett 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Todoh has joined the fight here.
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Shion 0|-------|-------
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Todoh 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion successfully hits Todoh with Tataki Tsuke.
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Shion 0|-------|-----==
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Brett
Wait. Todoh has joined the fight here? When did--
There is a pained yelp that dares defile the sanctity of this very location, the greatest transgression between the three of them. Something small hits the ground. Something that looks like it has a screwdriver handle...? Yet, it terminates into something foamy and bubbly at the end.
A wad of something additionally bubbly and a bit bloody is spit out the mouth of... someone, at the ground. Someone in a nice pair of long, wide pants. Socks. Some traditional Japanese garb... and, strangely, somehow stranger than all that, a very very long scarf wrapped around the neck, both ends draping down the front. They are hued in muted, earthy tones.
The person in question is clutching his head, a second pained grunt as he rubs at it gingerly with both hands. When he faces up after grousing about this for a while, a most majestic moustache is revealed. Not to mention, that familiar headband...
"Do you MIND?!" He spits out. "I was brushing my teeth with my sonic--"
He stops abruptly, blinking a few times, and then dramatically thrusts a bloodied finger, waving it scoldingly towards the androgynous, mysterious, malicious qiang spear wielder.
"Dude. I am sure the bro code is universal across all time and space! You do not hit a man who is brushing his teeth with one of those things!!"
...Him, of all people, complaining about that?
He does not field any questions about where he is, what he's doing, or what anyone else is doing here. He appears to deem his appearance without the need of any sort of logical explanation, but... has he ever?
Picking up the sonic... toothbrush? Off the ground, he holds it by the shaft that is not intended to be a handle, and stomps up along towards the man of the otherworldly spear technique with a significantly less skillful, marginally more bold, and infinitely more spiteful backhand with the handle.
"You little jerk of a man!" He adds, in perfectly pronounced awkwardly worded English, like from the playbook of English localizations of the late eighties to early nineties, harrumphing all the way.
...What is he even doing?
Brett Neuer wasn't sure which gods he should be praying too. Maybe all of them. He may have stood his ground, but it's not hard for even him to tell when Shion takes flight, first figuratively, then nigh-literally, that he's kind of outmatched. Eyes widen, and he realizes the error of not putting on his skate wheels at this point as his attempted retreat away from Shion's strike is far, far too slow. In a last ditch attempt, he tries to hold up his stick to catch the blow...
A blow that never comes. Looking up, he finds himself staring at the back of...a strange Japanese man who apparently got hit in the head in his stead. Blinking a few times, he processes the situation, before using the time spent ranting to hitch on his skate wheels and ditch his bag. "Sir, whoever you are, thank god you're here, you don't know how much you saved me!" he says in all genuine gratitude.
Clasping the helmet atop his head harder, the knock is hard enough to force him to focus. Game time. And with the game afoot, Brett doesn't waste time in taking a shot, stick reeling back before snapping down and outward, a slap shot strike to the courtyard grounds creating a crest of cool blue energy that flies in just behind the flight of that electric toothbrush.
COMBATSYS: Shion blocks Todoh's Small Random Weapon.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
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Todoh 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion overcomes Shark Crest from Brett with Botsu Hane Yasaki.
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Shion 0|-------|-----==
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Brett
This is... not what 'she' had expected, the sudden appearance of a third party, slipping through a tear in the very fabric of reality to stand here before 'her', blocking 'her' from reaching the target. Unable to alter the spear's trajectory, it matters not -- anyone who dares to interfere shall be annihilated. The shaft collides with the head of the interloper with his fancy scarf. The grip rattles in 'her' hands, vibration causing slender arms to tremble almost violently. "You, is your head made of steel?" Or is his skull thicker than normal, a neanderthal, perhaps?
Brett is not asked how he might like to die, but Shion does assume the fighting stance that was mentioned previously. Making many quick assessments of the new arrival, frowning as a finger is jabbed in 'her' direction, it would seem that the individual of Chinese descent might like to raise protest, or just order Todoh to shut up. 'She' is not given the opportunity to do so.
'You little jerk of a man!'
"Heh, so you know." This is one of those rare occasions where the man - YES IT IS A MAN - does not need to clarify misunderstandings regarding his gender. He would be impressed that Todoh is so astute, but the wielder of the Kasane Ate has the ability to change Shion's mind in an instant, attacking the fey-like fighter with a sonic toothbrush.
Not just any attack, but a spiteful backhand?!
The shaft of the qiang spear is in the way, one leg lifting as he blocks elegantly. As the toothbrush is introduced to the haft, and finding it much more sturdy, it shatters, breaking into three or more pieces. Shion offers no consolation, no offer of reimbursement. He twists, each motion flowing like water, fluid and seamless. Clearly preparing to strike back, the Chinese man says, "And now your life is forfeit." You know, just in case Todoh didn't realize that to get involved meant death.
Shion is truly gifted, spinning the shaft of the spear skillfully, reaching for the grip because he intends on smashing the flat-end of the blade in Todoh's face... But let us not forget Brett, who has had all of this time to prepare himself with a helmet and skate wheels. Pathetic. The Japanese man will have to wait.
He transfers the spear to one hand and flings out his arm, releasing a throwing dart pulled from perhaps we all don't want to know where. It whistles as it soars through the air, and when it meets the... blue energy crest? The dart rends it asunder and carries on. Shion eases back with a soft, twinkling laugh, "I will whittle you down from your fingertips, until there is nothing left." To Todoh, he just... has nothing. The guy is loud and obnoxious, but the slender fighter knows better than to underestimate humans, shaking back his long hair and sorting those precious braids. There is hope that he may be able to enjoy this.
"WHAT? It's obviooooous!" Todoh snaps aloud at the confirmation that yes, he does know, but seems to be emotionally wounded at being correct. Well, that and the sonic... toothbrush thingy shattering into a bunch of pieces, where it shall lay itself in waste upon these sacred grounds and be a cheap, easy plot device no longer as he slides a step back, hands spread apart - one further than the other - in something resembling a proper fighting stance.
"Eh? Who're you?" He thinks to ask to Brett's gratitude, half-turning to face him. One eye stays upon Shion the entire time his attention is divided, which is a ballsy thing to do when that flat-end of the blade might be coming for his face in the fraction of a second (were it not for Brett's return assist). Curiously, he never blinks it.
"Hm. Say, you," he says to Brett who probably has no time to respond to any query on account of super-fast dart throws through the whizzing energy crest that is punched through, "I am suddenly in a better mood than I was five seconds ago! You may be my companion for adventure! I don't even know where I am!"
...So that means he doesn't know why he's here, does it? He sounds awful cheerful for saying that, though, as he turns back to face the mysterious(er?) man who appears almost at a loss for words outside of threats.
"Now then! You. You! I will show you who the master is here! And, uh, the way. That I am the master of. OF which I have a masterate degree and everything--"
There is no such thing as a 'masterate!' ...Master's degree, sure, but... never mind.
He raises his hands up into the air, coalescing forth three yellowish-orangeish blocky segments of chi all connected together, swinging his arms downward as they, too, descend without so much fanfare in this whole mess, other than maybe casting a dramatic yellowish-orangeish light in the surroundings but... really. Surely a thing of such majesty could use another paragraph for a descriptor, being this guy claims to be a master or something!
COMBATSYS: Shion successfully hits Brett with Botsu Hane Yasaki.
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Shion 0|-------|---====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Brett
The blue shark's fin-shaped blast sails forth, but apparently it's no match for the sheer power of the dart that the man (wait, MAN?!) with the spear flings out to meet it, Brett's attack dispersed. Unable to get his stick in the way fast enough, Brett finds himself struck like was pierced with an arrow, the dart slamming into his shoulder hard enough he could swear it almost took it clean off. "GAAHH!!" he cries out, arm trembling until he manages to pul it out with his other hand.
Discarding the dart and clasping over his arm, he looks up to Todoh, a little confused. Did he somehow come here by accident? How? Maybe he's just mishearing him, especially considering he can feel blood rushing to his ears from that single shot. But perhaps it really doesn't matter. Right now, he's an ally, and clearly not an ill-meaning sort. He'll clear things up with him if he survives. Either way, he has to force himself to push on. Gritting his teeth, he pulls his hand away from his shoulder, grasping onto his stick again.
While it's Todoh's turn to send a wave of energy out toward the mysterious man, it's Brett chance to push intward. Coming in behind the Kasane Ate, the hockey kid tries to drop in and sweep his stick out toward Shion. And if the man tries to float above like a ghost again, the sweeping stick will rise upward, swinging his stick out like an axe as he spins toward the man trying to take his life.
COMBATSYS: Shion blocks Brett's Wild Spiral.
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Shion 0|-------|---====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion fails to interrupt Kasane Ate from Todoh with Kuuchuu Yari Tsukami.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
Is it obvious? Seems that Brett was caught completely unaware, having assumed as most do that Shion is a woman.
Oh well, a matter of little significance, since the ebb and flow of the battle remains the same.
Returning to his fighting stance, the qiang spear held by both hands, delicate fingers wrapped tightly around the shaft, he waits while an alliance is formed between the two, just after Brett is pierced in the shoulder and plucks the dart from working its way further in. Shame. "Whether you stand united, whether you stand alone, the results shall be the same." Shion grips the spear tighter, because he is being threatened in a manner that reaks of nonsense and lack of forethought.
Yes, he had decided that he will not be underestimating them, but that doesn't stop him from making yet another observation of Todoh's personality: He's a complete idiot. Idiot's are always unpredictable due to their unfathomable stupidity.
"Come," says the fey-like Chinese man, "I am ready." Ready for whatever this master... with a 'masterate' can do. Quirking a pencil-thin eyebrow at the strange chi coalescing in Todoh's hands, the spear is set into motion. His hands twist and are deft, spinning the shaft, the bladed tip singing as it slices through particles and atoms. Just as Shion moves to thrust the deadly weapon into the path of the inelegant Kasane Ate, it is blown from his hands, clattering along the ground and coming to rest a short distance away. See? Unpredictable! "Tch." The slender fighter clutches at fingers that were burned, the worst injury sustained, acidic remarks bubbling forth, but is granted no time to impart such choice words. That's entirely Brett's fault.
Shion blocks the stick with the sole of his fighting shoe, any higher strikes that may follow deflected by his forearms and palms. He rolls back and away, crouching before standing once again. Unfortunately, he is far from the qiang spear, but not defenseless. Hands snapped up, his elbows bent ninety degrees, it is his own variation of the Wushu style, which looks more like if he had a tray, he might be about to serve dinner. The guardian of the ruins smirks faintly, "I wonder, if I broke your weapon, could you continue to fight as I do?" This will have to be tested, no matter the answer received.
Idiotic, or merely confident? ...No, let's not even ask that question. There has been numerous instances before a circumstance such as now that would firmly put the old man's actions in a light that could not be mistaken for anything other than foolish, delusional, or otherwise... overwhelmingly negative.
"Yes, yes you are!" He agrees with Shion's keen observations. "Ready to be CREAMED. And, um, beat up. A bunch. Yes. Very ready," he reaffirms as the smoothness of Shion's draws prove little match for the apparently clunky, simplistic implementation of his own mastery of the breath of the Earth itself.
Even so, he visibly runs his left hand across his chest as though he may have actually, truly and honestly, considered the possibility that spear had actually pierced his movement. Or he's just wiping toothpaste off his hand...
Yes, it looks like he's just wiping toothpaste.
The original observation probably still rings truer.
Clearing his throat, the aging master casts a look over to the young man fighting for his life - and the right to see whatever this place is supposed to be! - as he deigns to pick up Shion's dropped qiang spear, that long and unwieldy thing that is made immediately evident no more than three seconds later that Todoh has never held a thing like this in his life.
"Pah! I've encountered rolling turret-peashooter things with a far more interesting penchant for conversation than you!" He sneers as he seems to play with the spear, attempting to spin in it clumsily, raising his knee into it at some point. "They only know one word, even! Pah, okay, fine, it's a big word. Big, long, word, lotsa syllables. THE POINT IS I HAVE FOUND MORE PROFOUND CONVERSATIONS."
In his attempt(?) to swing it about, it just barely passes over Brett's head - watch out, faithful companion! - as he spins it ineptly in such a way that the flat end of the spear is the one pointing closer to Shion.
"Now, you! Silly, silly man! How the hell do you even hold this thing?!" Was he even watching him before? He jabs the butt of it towards their face a couple times. Maybe he really is trying to put it back in his hands? "It's so long it's like it's going longer than that fourth guy!"
What?
The question posited to Brett isn't one so unfamiliar to him. After all, he had trained with Lita Luwanda at one point for that exact reason, having it impressed on him that he couldn't rely on a weapon that could easily be taken from him indefinitely. However, it's not a question he wants an answer to in this fight in specific, his hands gripping tighter on his stick as his strikes meet Shion's elbow guard over and over.
Backing up after realizing he's not getting anywhere with that line of attack, he finds himself looking back over to Todoh again and...still not quite sure what's going on in his head. But you know, with the spear out of Shion's hands, that gives Brett the idea that there might be an opening to take advantage of there. With that thought in mind, Brett charges in again. Throwing his entire weight forward, he flips end over end, legs extending out when he's nearly turned completely over in an attempt to crash his heavy skate boots straight into the mysterious man's willowy form, wheels and all.
COMBATSYS: Shion dodges Todoh's Large Random Weapon.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion dodges Brett's Falling Star EX.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
His jaw drops, not just at a loss for words, but completely flabbergasted. How does Todoh manage to chew and swallow his own food without assistance? Truly a question for the ages, one that has been asked since the dawn of time and will continue to be rehashed until men are mere fairytales and books are written by rabbits.
... Crap, now you've got ME going on Full-Retard tangeants.
Teeth click harshly together as his mouth snaps shut, not about to waste another moment attempting to contemplate the meaning of those words. Instead, dark eyes follow the Japanese man when he collects the qiang spear and waves it about inexpertly. Shion sneers faintly. Even in the hands of this incompetent person, the bladed end is still deadly. He jabs and the lithe, fey-like fighter shifts his weight to the right, allowing it to skim past him. The next stab is dodged in much the same way, the crimson-coloured irises never leaving Todoh for a second. 'Silly man', feh. "You /still/ speak? Learn to hold your tongue, old fool, I feel myself growing dim just listening to your inane chatter!"
The willowy assassin is going to punch Todoh in the face, because who would be so foolish as to instruct another how to assault them, but Brett thinks he's found the perfect opening. Plans must be changed and altered. The American flips end over end, so here's what Shion has to say to being stomped on by heavy skates: Not today. His fall to the ground is practiced much like all of the other movements, smooth and graceful, arms cushioning the blow. Rolling beneath the skater, when Brett has cleared overhead, it is time to take the new course of action. With luck, it will be most satisfying.
Shion flips onto his back, his legs a kicking windmill, intending to strike the kneecap, a calf, then finally snap the heel of his foot directly into the furthest ankle. It will knock out Todoh's feet from under him, sending the man to the cobblestones, hopefully loosening the spear from his grasp. The mysterious practitioner of Wushu then steeples his fingers, one elbow at rest on his thigh while his other leg has a knee to the ground, waiting patiently for retaliation. Breaking the stick is a thought that may need to be revisited again at a later time during their fight... Until then, dealing with Derp McKasaneAte.
COMBATSYS: Todoh dodges Shion's Light Kick.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
"My jaw holds my tongue just fine!!" Todoh sneers as he continues the utterly inane, even childish, almost playful poking of absolutely nothing. He is but a simpleton driven by madness, bluster, and maybe even senility can finally lay claim to whatever drives him onward, as Shion expertly moves between the efforts of both men, to move in and segue into taking that older Japanese man off his feet--
As though almost a mockery of his own technique, defying the likelihood of a foot catching on the fabric and still tripping him anyway, Todoh lifts up that furthest leg of his and steps forward, moving in such a way that now Shion stands in the middle between himself and Brett.
"Inane chatter?! You want to talk hardball, then? Real, political hardball? The likes of such they don't air on planet... Galileo? Belfry?! Oooh, you got it!"
So much so, that he flings the spear over his shoulder to go stab its sharp tip into the ground as a dramatic monument to nothing in particular, arms held horizontal, eyes narrowed as he paces around them.
"You wouldn't crack a man upside his head for no good reason, would you?! I'm the master of no reason! There is no no reason!" He... asserts? It's difficult to discern where the babbling ends and the conviction begins.
"Nope! You're hidin' something. The real truth about global cooling's lies, perhaps?! The newest brand of cigarettes everyone's hanging out and smoking at Fuji? The French invading my favorite places to stand in the whole wide world?! Some other weird unexplainable thing involving why people won't take even free fax machines when they need 'em at Metro?!"
...Back to inane?
"Hm, hm, hm. Nope! None of them. Something moooore." He sneers... as if knowingly? "Whatever it is..."
His stance stiffens, face going from that of idle chatter and mockery to something that legitimately and truly approaches coherence and understanding. Scrutiny. Watchfulness?
"I think I'll be taking it!"
COMBATSYS: Todoh focuses on his next action.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
Flying over Shion's head as the willowy spearman glides under his flipping attack, Brett thankfully finds his wheels and manages to recover enough to wheel around. By the time he's back facing Shion, the mysterious assassin is between him and Todoh, the strange mustaschioed man on some kind of rant. Eyes brighten when he brings up 'Global Cooling', the former Greyhound convinced he's found a kindred soul investigating this mysterious happening....and then it veers way off course on things that sound just plain weird. Well...there goes his illusions about his mysterious savior.
Still...it's clear that the man is much more on level with the assassin than he is. Between the two of them, they may manage to get out of this alive! It's just a matter of finally finding an opening. And while Todoh keeps Shion's attention, Brett aims for the best opening he has, picking up speed before trying to slide directly into Shion's ankles and hopefully take his base out from under him with as much momentum as he can muster.
COMBATSYS: Shion dodges Brett's Light Kick.
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Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
OMFG IT IS GALLIFREY GET OUT
Er, I mean.
Shit.
The trip has missed, stepped over and dodged. This man's luck must be... almost as ridiculous as he is, Shion pauses to think, one molar set to grind against the other. He finds the antics quite frustrating, the more that Todoh rambles on, and then he throws the spear. The Chinese man doesn't believe it's meant to skewer him, so he follows its path and where it ends up, bladed tip thrust into stone and remaining there, alone.
Feh, master of no reason. Exhaling a gentle snort that disturbs a braid of his lovely hair, Shion would find himself hard-pressed to disagree with such claims, but he has no ear for them. Ready to tune out the rest of the tirade entirely, Todoh somehow manages to... hit the nail on the head, however stupid the means of doing so. "Step on any end of the snake and be prepared to perish, old fool." The fey-like fighter warns him, watching his progress as he paces about, doubting that the warning will be heard and uncaring even if it is. He will enjoy killing this one, torturing him slowly until his life winks out and the light leaves his eyes.
As for Brett, who hopes that Shion is far more captivated than he is, the American attempts to capitalize on the distraction and take out his support base while the slender assassin remains caught in a pincer trap between them. It doesn't work. Skates make a lot of noise, and the slide even moreso. The brown hair flutters as his head quickly snaps around, his small frame shifting to the other leg. Brett is only allowed so far past him before a cruel smile lights up his pretty face, revealing rows of white teeth. "Ah, that was unwise."
"TAIHOU KEN!"
Wrists together, palms move in swift series of lightning-fast strikes. It starts at the solar plexus, Shion rising with each, pulverizing ribs, sternum, throat and chin. If Brett finds himself on the receiving end, if he can't haul himself out of the way, then so help him. The Chinese assassin shows not a hint of mercy, only a sadistic smirk which is all too telling of how much he will enjoy his opponent's pain.
There is never quite putting a finger on Todoh. Well, there is laying a fist, a foot, and who knows what else, but a metaphorical finger? It seems impossible, as he paces about.
"Hah! Idioms. I got a good one too!" He sneers, as though this otherwise goofy word choice is supposed to have some sort of real, true, honest threat to weigh upon them. Who knows what this man is thinking? Or thinking he's thinking? If... he's even doing any of that.
He casts an eye on Brett as his move to try and capitalize upon the moment appears to fall short, at which point he does perhaps the least helpful thing imaginable to someone who is probably about to be picked apart by a flurry of expert blows that the eye cannot follow.
"Boy! Companion-type. Whatever." Todoh calls out.
"Don't blink!" He says, as he holds his hands up high into the air in mock surrender as he comes up behind Shion. Maybe it's just to censor himself the view of what could be total agony for the hockey brawler. Perhaps it's moving to an advantageous position, his socks probably doing very little to protect him from the environs under his feet. It doesn't afford him much traction or warmth.
Yet, he stands there anyway, as a much more solid, firm-looking series of yellowish-orange chi segments coalesce together, flung down with a mighty cry as he brings them fiercely crashing down behind the space Shion himself currently occupies, leaning forward greatly into the downward swing.
How the hell is not blinking going to help anyone? The angels would weep with laughter at such a thought, surely.
COMBATSYS: Shion successfully hits Brett with Mukade Taihou Ken.
- Power hit! -
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|--=====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/------=|=======\======-\1 Brett
It's an unfortunate thing, trying to put that much momentum behind a running attack like that. The downside, ever present, is that if it doesn't hit, you better hope you keep moving, or you're a sitting duck. And The unfortunate thing about slides like Brett did is that they're inherently meant to brake your momentum. Not quite a hockey stop, but a close relative. Old habits tend to die hard, after all.
Unfortunately, as thickly set as Brett is, considering his given sport, he doesn't quite die as hard as his habits do. Not in the face of such ancient technique and rapid fire strikes. The first shot takes all the wind out of him with tha precise shot to the solar plexus. That alone would have been a substantial blow, but the continued strikes batter him, even through the pads he wears to protect his ribs. Pads that essentially don't exist afterwards.
Fallen over after the final strike rends him aside, Brett looks, for all accounts, to be down and out. But with the older man moving in for his attack, the determination in the hockey kid's eyes doesn't fade. A light burns in his eyes that wills him to get back up. He doesn't get far....but his stick remains in his hand. And in hockey, as long as you have a stick, you have a chance. It's not quite an adage, but at least an unspoken concept. Resting his stick blade down as he's unable to get up to more than a crouch, he glowers at Shion. The mean look loses some of its effect when a thick gout of blood is spit up onto the courtyard soil. But there are still answers he needs. Things he needs to see. A mission he has to see through. Gritting his teeth hard enough to nearly crack enamel, he pushes himself up to his feet despite the screaming of his ribs, slashing his stick up toward the spear-wielder as a strained roar comes from Brett. A crest of energy similar to before rises up, but this one is larger, at least man-sized, and much much more robust, looking almost like an ice blue, 6-ft scimitar of energy screaming toward the assassin.
COMBATSYS: Shion blocks Brett's Blue Line Special.
[ |||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|--=====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion overcomes Fierce Kasane Ate from Todoh with Ryuu Tsumu Yasaki.
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|---====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Brett
One, two, three... With each hit, the protective gear crumbles or cracks. It is not so much armor anymore as it is a broken nuisance that Brett continues to wear. It won't save him a second time. Shion laughs, effeminate and full of mockery. Everything that Todoh had to say during the assault... still means about as much now as it did then, which is nil.
I mean, seriously. Telling Brett not to blink. Does the practitioner of Wushu look like a weeping angel to you? What idiocy is this? The American has more worthwhile questions to ask, if only he would just ASK THEM.
Anyway, because I can, I'm going to say that the ice blue scimitar is what reaches him first, what he is prepared for. It is maybe five feet away when Shion reaches and pulls a length of rope from his back. Not only is he a master of the qiang spear, but the sheng biao. The end with the dart is cast into the centre of the chi, weakening it, before the Chinese fighter takes the rope in hand and swings it in a circle. The rest of the attack crashes against his defenses, only wisps managing to break through, one nicking his cheek just below the eye.
"Che." Shion clicks his tongue in disapproval, all that's left is the interloper who... thought he could sneak behind and catch him off-guard? Please. With the grace of a dancer, he pivots on the balls of his feet, meeting Todoh head on. Leg lifting, he thrusts a foot into the path of the sheng biao rope dart, allowing it once to wrap around before kicking out. The heavy, hooked end doesn't just break through a fierce version of the Kasane Ate, it completely destroys it, the weird and misshapen segments falling away to either side like a kid on a bicycle who hasn't quite figured out how to pedal. "Struggle more, until you both are reduced to nothing!"
COMBATSYS: Todoh fails to slow Ryuu Tsumu Yasaki from Shion with Kasane Ate.
~ Cruel hit! ~
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|--=====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Brett
Ryuhaku Todoh's legendary stubbornness rears some undesirable part of its anatomy to behold, for he is not settling with just a single, hefty chi manifestation masterwork in which to bring upon them a solid point.
This new point comes in a second, wave of segmented yellowish-orangish chi that forms straight in the air, the master(?)'s arms moving rapidly to fan up and down with the manifestation as many times as he needs, the promise that this first - well, second - will be first... okay, second, of many to come, to put a fine point against--
The sheng biao rope dart pushes through in the blink of an eye, the straight line fractured, his counterpoint going all wibbly-wobbly at that point in time as it beans him in the windpipe. He staggers back exaggeratedly, slipping about and whipping one arm to maintain balance while the other clutches his chest with gagging. Sputtering! Choking!
Falling to a kneel, clutching that throat of his, his hand drops to the ground and idly starts patting around for those... toothbrush pieces? It's hard to say, but at least he's mercifully silent at this fixed point in time.
Hopefully...
...Well, far less hopeful for that companion guy over there, who might not even last the episode!
Questions are hard to ask, when you're fighting for your life. And Brett Neuer was never terribly vocal during fights, much like he was never terribly vocal in games. It was almost like two different people sometimes, talking to him during and outside of games. It's so terribly rare to hear him say anything, his focus and ability funneled toward a distinct goal.
That normal focus falters as Brett finds the pain in his ribs, one feeling dangerously close to his lungs cracked as they are. As soon as the ice blue wave of energy snaps out from the arc of his stick, the American drops to his knees again, gasping and struggling for breath. It's not a feeling he's unfamiliar with. That's why hockey players wear padding around their ribs, after all. But this feels a lot different from a minor rib fracture. It's enough to make it a struggle to just move.
So he doesn't. He hangs back, watching the exchange between the two, the kind, kooky stranger, and the mocking effeminate assassin. "Why...why are you here...what are you protecting? Did you...cough....." He gets into another coughing fit as he bucks forward. "Why did you freeze the sea over?" he asks, before finally willing himself out of his crouch, trying to trip Shion up hard with a hook of his stick. It's a rare thing for him to do, but with movement limited, it's one of his few options.
COMBATSYS: Shion interrupts Medium Throw from Brett with Hatsu Kei.
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
Excellent. For one brief and shining moment, the old fool has been silenced. He chokes on his own stupidity -- or maybe it's the fact that the dart hits him square in the throat. Whatever the reason, Shion merely accepts the outcome with relish and carries on; an opportunity is never to be wasted, especially when he is outnumbered.
He reins in the rope, neatly looping it from hand to elbow, then stores it once again at his back. Will he use the sheng biao again? It's quite possible, but for now, resuming the stance and showing that he is willing to continue fighting, Shion's gaze flickers to the spear. His goal will be to reach it, when the time is right.
Brett staggers to his feet, or was the quiet American standing already? This does not matter. Cruel and predatory, the fey assassin can tell that it will not be long before he is finished. That will leave only Todoh. 'Why are you here, what are you protecting?' Shion adjusts the straps around his hands and wrists, flexing his thin fingers. Orange-painted lips wear a cold smile. Tempting though it may be to dodge the question, or even the one that follows, he will not deny a man who will die knowledge that will haunt him in the afterlife. "The sea..."
"That was not our intention."
Shion crosses one leg over the other, crimson eyes fixed on the hockey player with sadistic delight. He inhales the stale air of this place, holding it in his lungs, before releasing softly, "I am the guardian of the Time Sphere, the reason why the Gulf has frozen." The effeminate fighter shakes his head, the brown hair that had snuck forwards to join his precious discoloured braids returned to its proper place. A laugh is uttered, mocking them, "Try to take it, if you can. If you can defeat me..." Brett attempts to trip him, but a stomp is delivered to the end of the stick. It snaps the end clean off. The Chinese man seizes him by the collar, pulling him in to whisper, "It is yours."
Kicking aside the broken portion of the hockey stick, he braces for impact. Wrists lock together once more, another heavy strike of his palms crushing what remains of the protective gear around the base of the ribs, perhaps cracking more in the process. Shion steps back, enough so that he may admire the pain the American is in, wondering if perhaps he should take an eye... "Now you," addressing Todoh, the gentle tone of voice betrays the malice in his words, "I had thought your performance was almost encouraging. Giving up?" Doubtful, and it's too late for that. He's in over his head, the Chinese assassin an even greater adversary than the Daleks!
The moment Shion takes his eyes off of Ryuhaku is probably the moment just about any other person would regret doing. It is thought that he has somehow done a secret handshake with the likes of Heisenberg or Schrodinger and learned the secrets they never got to publish - the utter disregard for time and space.
How he seems to refuse to acknowledge the idea that there has to be a proper line between point A to point B, if people so much as /give him/ the gift of carelessness and ignorance.
'Giving up,' he asks.
Todoh is standing on his feet again, back turned to the assassin, standing somewhere like twenty feet away.
"You got one of those?!" He exclaims. "Hm! No wonder this place looked bigger from the outside! Yeh hah hah!" He sounds almost delighted by this developm--
...Does he know what a Time Sphere even is?!
This man?!
The laughter abruptly ends in coughing as he turns around to face Shion, the ends of the very long scarf wrapped around his neck flapping dramatically in some unseen wind at a time not particularly opportune. There is no way to be really cool while coughing.
"Here I was, thinking I'd just be passing by for NO GOOD REASON," still not answering how he even came here to begin with, as he now holds the pieces of the sonic... toothbrush... object, whatever the hell this was supposed to be. The head of it doesn't really look like a toothbrush, but it was in his mouth right at the beginning, wasn't it?
"Well, that and now YOU'RE the reason they aren't shutting up about the global cooling myth!" He points with righteous fury(?). "I could kill only one bird with this stone but y'know, with something like a Time Sphere I could just lock 'em up in a box and we'd never know where it is or how fast it's going!"
That's... not the right principle at all.
"Now quit traumatizing the kid already! I shall defeat you with superior guile as befitting of the master!" He claps his hands in the air dramatically... and...
Simply throws the pieces of the sonic... thingamajig. They do not come even remotely close to Shion. They do not do anything remotely interesting. There is no sudden burst of amazing ass-pull super-magic-science. They are kind of loud as they clatter against cobblestone and other such surfaces, though.
This is clearly and unapologetically a ruse to step forth and swing a horizontal handchop into Shion's face, as though they may fall for such a juvenile method that would be slammed by long-time fans as an embarrassment to the legacy of...
...Well, it's Todoh. Never mind, that seems par for the course.
Time Sphere? Whatever that is, it doesn't sound normal. And this guy is the guardian...well, that clearly explains why he's so powerful. Something that sounds THAT important would have a powerful guardian. Unfortunately, that information comes at a cost, as Brett ends up having his stick snapped, the blade broken by a heavy stomp, and a double-handed palm thrust turning his ribs into so much powder (at least, it feels like it). Eyes widen as his breath is strangled in his lungs, another hacking cough of blood spat up and staining the courtyard even further.
Falling back into a crouch, he finds it near impossible to talk any further. An arm around his chest, the other clinging to the remains of his stick, he looks up and backs away slowly from Shion. "What are you...trying to do then?" he manages to force out through strangled breaths, hoping to simply buy time long enough to do something...find SOME kind of opening....
COMBATSYS: Brett circles, trying to pick up speed and momentum.
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion blocks Todoh's Fierce Punch.
[ ||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Brett
The gods must be punishing him, laughing at him. What other reason could there be for this farce? Todoh natters on about things that Shion tries his absolute best to forget -- this has been happening the entire match, but has now reached the event horizon of stupidity. Bigger on the inside, what? Global cooling? ... That's it. He snaps. "Save your pointless rambling for small children and invalids! Did I not tell you to seal that gaping maw of yours? Perhaps I should cut out your tongue." The brunette seethes, the words hissing past rows of straight white teeth. In his hand is a dart. Where this one came from, let us continue not to wonder. Inching forwards, he plans to make good on his threat...
Or he would, if it weren't for bits of a broken toothbrush thrown in his general direction.
Shion defends... nothing! Because the pieces land nowhere near him. Irises with their crimson hue follow the path, then snap back to Todoh, suddenly within range, attempting to chop his face. The fey-like assassin smirks broadly. "Old fool, I will savour your suffering." His guard was up already; the 'master' finds his hand bouncing off slender forearms. So much for the distraction, amirite? The Chinese man pushes back to throw his opponent off. He bends over backwards, twisting into a back walkover, and that brings him to his spear, just as planned. Tugging it from the cobblestones, it is held aloft and pointed, the bladed tip glinting as it catches the light of the setting sun.
"Time..." He says in a manner most cryptic, acknowledging Brett with a sidelong glance, "We will take control of time itself." How much more punishment can the hockey player take, Shion ponders this at length. It is admirable that he can still stand, let alone speak. Numerous ribs must be broken; he is likely to be in excruciating amounts of pain. For now, perhaps unwisely, the American is ignored, because due to his injuries, he is no longer perceived as a threat.
Attention grudgingly returning to the idiot, he has nothing more to say and he cares not for the ridiculous remarks spluttered in-between (no doubt there are many.) The slender practitioner of Wushu pivots, the brown hair fans out behind him and he lifts to the balls of his feet. Gracefully bending back, holding the qiang spear parallel to his body, the tip is thrust at Todoh, meant to skewer him on the end. "HUP!" In the shoulder, in the gut, Shion is not picky. His purpose is to cause as much pain as possible. He is truly a very sadistic person, and I'm totally okay with that because pretty.
COMBATSYS: Todoh blocks Shion's Sen Tsuki.
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|----===
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
For all of the strange, bizarre, almost entirely inept approaches that the so-called master (who?) takes, a timely shift to the defensive from the offensive (to all senses and good reason) is... almost as inept, but not quite.
"Gah!" That is the single grunt that punctuates the near-puncturing as one hand dares to stop the spear blade, parting his fingers as such that the tip peeks through the cracks of them, leaning back only so far as it just pokes through that red affixed thing on his chest and sharply stabs the surface layer of his skin.
It smarts!
His eyes are about as wide as anything Shion might have seen from those who have savored the taste of horrible, excruciating pain, teeth bared in a great grin and grimace. Leaning any closer in, that blade going any deeper... we'd have a problem.
Well, not so much a problem unless it's the thirteenth time that's happened, but that's digressing. (Maybe.)
"I-Invalid? Small children?" He wheezes out, as though those words alone somehow cut deeper than pretty much every other threat, insult, or promise of making merriment of their misery before it as his stance goes a bit slack.
"Hey, I can't hear what you just said to that guy over there," he mutters out as he regains something approaching composure as he steps forth to bring the hand further away from the spear into the shaft, moving the hand that tried to catch the damn blade to begin with further in to try and grip it with both hands...
...Lift it up, somewhat unconventional, compared to the usual approach of grabbing the actual person...
And leverage as such they slam the man of such fine grooming and immaculate appearance into the sacred grounds in a sheer affront to both man and earth alike. (He'll probably find some way to offend heaven in the process, but that's neither here nor there.)
"That's like both of 'em for you! Yeh hah hah! Ain't that right?!" He calls over to Brett, who is probably not in the mood for banter, witty nor poorly localized into English.
Clearly, Brett has no idea what the hell Todoh is on. The more he speaks, the more he's baffled. And he actually understands Japanese enough to get a hint of what the babbling is all about without dealing with the bad English. His concern more lies with his pulverized ribs and the whole part about 'taking control of time itself'. What did that mean? How were they going to 'control time'? Such ideas seeemed fantastic, and trying to think of what they could be doing was hard when he had to focus just on breathing without aggrivating his injuries even further.
Pushing himself up slowly while Todoh has Shion distracted, he tried to steady himself despite another gout of blood being spat up. He doesn't speak, breathing is already hard enough. Instead, he waits....and waits....then, when Todoh goes for the toss, he dashes in, bloodstained teeth gritted hard. Even with his broken stick, he can come in and drive the splintered end toward Shion's side, whether the spear wielder is on the floor or still standing somehow.
COMBATSYS: Todoh successfully hits Shion with Bodyslam.
[ |||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|---====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion blocks Brett's Medium Strike.
[ ||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|---====
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Brett
"Che." The sound of disappointment, Shion attempting to retract the spear and right his position, tightening his grip on the shaft. He tugs once, but can't seem to-- Pupils narrow in understanding. Working one molar against the other, a single word escapes past the very thin line his orange-painted lips have formed, "/You/."
It is unwise, but the fey-like assassin refuses to relinquish his hold on the qiang spear and allow such an inelegant moron to wield it for a second time. The soles of his Chinese-style fighting shoes leave the ground, Shion dangling for one brief moment, wondering how to brace himself for impact, when he is brought crashing down onto the cobblestones. All of the breath in his lungs exits with a WOOSH, his knees drawing up towards his chest as he curls inwards... But the slender man's arms remain outstretched, still wrapped around haft of the spear, brows knit in grim determination. Soft, gentle gasps for air follow.
The time is now, while the guardian of the Time Sphere lies prone, perhaps severed weakened. Fools will waste all opportunities, but not Brett -- without a shred of mercy, he attacks. This would please Shion, were he not about to be impaled. Flinching quickly away from the stick, fortune smiles down on him. There is a tear as the splintered end catches on his yellow top, but that is the worst of it. The thin fighter clicks his tongue in disapproval before he... moves to shove the American and his 'weapon' out of the way using his feet. "Get lost, wimp!" Harsh'd.
Using his slight weight and inertia to his advantage, the lower half of the effeminate fighter's body lifts from the ground. He snaps up to his feet, landing in a crouch, violently wrenching the qiang spear from Todoh's grasp. "My words are not meant for your ears." the guardian says when he transfers the spear to one hand. The blade screams as a large crescent is scraped into the ground, the shaft meant for the Japanese man's ankles, to take his legs right out from under him. Once finished, Shion combs stray strands of brown hair from his face, tucking them behind his small ears. He holds the spear aloft, in the same stance, a beautiful and deadly statue.
COMBATSYS: Shion successfully hits Todoh with Yari Tsukami.
- Power hit! -
[ ||||||||||||||||| ]
Shion 0|-------|--=====
[ \\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Todoh 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Brett
No one would ever hold it against Shion to keep hold of that spear. Nobody trusts Todoh with anything bigger than a ruler.
...
Nobody trusts him with a ruler either.
Shion tugs his spear free of Todoh's grip in the wake of his brazen lift-and-slam, some sort of smile as if to congratulate himself on having actually accomplished much of anything against the likes of whoever this is, wherever they're at, whatever they're doing. As the moments pass, it seems the matters of why hold far less and less weight. People might have stopped asking questions, and the world is probably better for it... lest the physicists of the world all find themselves out of a job.
"I got something for your ears, all righ--" Todoh steps to his right, just as the spear moves in that lightning-fast, crescent shape. It's an impulsive, arrogant, and altogether foolhardy decision (...moreso than usual) because now he can't just callously step over the sweep - he's coming into the swing while it's too high for that, coming too fast for him to jump. The shaft catches him on the ankles and he falls in such a dramatic way from trying to do the same thing /again/ that his back collides with the bladed portion. The blade slices through cloth and presumably catches somewhere on flesh, even as the old man's body tumbles across the sacred grounds as though he were knocked aside by a blunt object.
Thrown a distance away from the fight and getting a mouthful of some highly obscure, possibly endangered blades of grass, he pushes up off the ground with his palms as his back is stained in red.
"Bah! Taking me... outta the loop, thinkin' I got no stake in this... I got one thing to tell ya, man!" He says as he gasps for air (which is an odd descriptor considering he's talking and blowing hot air just fine), rolling up to a stand.
"There's something you'd better understand about me, 'cause it's important, and one day your life may depend on it!" A boast, of sorts, as he brings his hands up into the air in a clapping motion that echoes through the entire mysterious space, sneering and otherwise attempting to look far more intimidating than he has any right to be...
And then he brings his hands downwards, bringing what one must assume is the full brunt of his terrifying power, his mastered technique, years upon years of study and practice that has befuddled and bested... surprisingly... very... few people, and yet, before the both of them, the ailing hockey player and the mysteriously effeminate assassin, the truth holds clear...!
Segments of chi coalesce together, a bright blue color in the same segmented shapes as seen prior - wait, is that a fourth, extra segment instead of three? Is it capable of extending so far?!
"I AM DEFINITELY A MAD MAN WEARING SOCKS!"
...That doesn't seem to be how that's supposed to go... at all...?
Matters of awkward word choice aside, he swings his arms downward as the wave of chi descends with the help of gravity and the lowering arms, leaning forward into the blow with the same motion has previously observed with just about every other execution of an eerily similar technique.
He appears to mean it that much more. Maybe. The very ground it touches threatens to flatten in its wake, leaving a permanent segmented series of boxes in its wake as if to say, one and all, 'TODOH WUZ HEER'
Time and space help Shion should they be in its way, because Heaven no longer wants anything to do with it.
At least Brett trusts Todoh with something. He trusts him with hopefully finding a way for both of them to survive this encounter.
After all, he really doesn't have a choice at this point, does he?
Unfortunately, Brett doesn't manage to do much damage with that rushing stick stab using the remains of his hockey stick. He catches the spearman's outfit, but nothing more before he's brushed aside like so much garbage. Hissing in a breath, he hockey stops on his skates, the tensing of his abdominals and obliques causing his fractured ribs to shift and poke inside even more, nearly causing the skater to collapse right then and there. Using the remains of his stick as a prop, he manages to keep from falling over though, leaving it behind as he pushes off and upright again.
He doesn't dare tear off the remains of his padding, shredded as they are, not knowing how badly his ribs would shift if he did. Instead, he holds an arm across his chest, waiting and watching with a slow roll. He's essentially beneath Shion's attention at this point, and for good reason. But right now, Brett has to use that somehow. And with Todoh being...well, weird, he knows that the craziness should keep the spearman somehow distracted. Finally, he sees a spot, and charges in, simply trying to clasp his hands together and speed in, hoping to hammer down on Shion in some way with those double fists. "TIME IS NOT FOR ANYONE TAKE!" he shouts, coming out nearly unintelligible from the way he rasps.
COMBATSYS: Shion endures Todoh's Meiou Ken.
[ ||||||||||| ]
Shion 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
COMBATSYS: Shion fails to interrupt Crushing Strike from Brett with Engo Kyousha.
- Power fail! -
[ |||||| ]
Shion 1|-----==|=======
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
A shame that the blade didn't split Todoh in twain, but this is satisfactory. The swinging and scraping continues until a full circle has been completed, Shion rising and ready. He lifts the qiang spear, a cruel smile cutting across his attractive features. Blood drips from the tip, splattering as it hits the cobblestones, staining them a deep scarlet. Crimson-hued orbs pull away from the sight of the crumpled, nonsense-spewing man for only a moment, searching for Brett on the battlefield. The American looks to be in the midst of mastering his own injuries -- a pointless endeavour, the fey assassin has the audacity to think.
'One day your life may depend on it!'
His attention snaps back with a harsh bark of laughter that rends the air. Shion digs the butt of the spear into the ground and leans upon it, clapping a hand to his forehead. "You insect, are you truly so delusional?" The Chinese fighter just can't help himself, even throughout the impressive display. When the shockwave comes to silence him, the thin man does stop, but only because he must concentrate...
It is like standing in fire, but he endures, truly determined to prove that there is nothing this fool can do. How does he expect to win? Shion sustains only minimal damage, mostly small cuts that smart when he shifts. One leg crosses over the other, preparing to resume. "Now it ends. Die!" If he had meant to run Todoh through, his devious plot has been foiled before it had even begun. The wiry assassin is interrupted, and even taken completely by surprise!
An axe-handled strike to the back of the neck fells the man, who lets loose a piercing cry as his eyes budge. He makes a small effort to retaliate, but his attempt is wasted. Shion hits the dirt, hard. The shout rings in his ears long after the cry has finished. Coughing, dirt-streaking face turning to Brett, this is why humans must never be underestimated, even the weakest of their species. "Feh, that's where you're wrong. Perhaps you'd like to find out..."
The entire world turns on its head, suddenly the earth is the sky. Pillars fall downwards -- or upwards? Brett and Todoh are safe, even when the cobblestones give way, lured by gravity and joining the setting sun. Trees, grass, dirt, all pulled into purple, red and gold. The endless, expansive sky. Shion is gone. Did he fall, or did he disappear? There's no point in trying to discern his whereabouts in this place, because one crack later, it is night. No, wait, not night. It is... dark. The two fighters stand in a cavern, surrounded by walls of jagged obsidian.
In the very centre, misty contents twisting and writhing in ecstasy, is the Time Sphere. Set on a clawed pedestal, it awaits them. Just as Shion said, it is theirs... But what will Brett and Todoh do now?
COMBATSYS: Shion has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
In the wake of Shion's defiant last stand to push against master... who? What was his name again? Oh, right, Todoh. Moving on.
In the wake of Shion's defiant last stand to push against... that guy, he holds his posture. Arms spread out, palms pointed downward. His body heaves with every breath, harsh and loud as he watches that companion of his, ultimately, probably save his life. The one who probably has had the lion's share of the attention in proving the tenacity, strength, and endurance of humanity.
Compare this to Ryuhaku Todoh over there, who... still offers no explanation for the hows and whys of his appearance, as he slowly stands up to rub at the wound on his back in faint acknowledgement of it even happening. He falls into a state of apparent relaxation to deal with this, even as everything around him goes... wrong.
Todoh seems entirely unfazed by any of this. For a man who has made frequent unwelcome incursions into just about any place on planet Earth and made an entire spectacle of himself with his bizarre antics, there appears to be something about this entire display that suggests...
Familiarity?
Todoh snorts as he uses his free hand to readjust that scarf he has somehow become enamored by, taking several steps towards the hockey player who had been pushed to his limit, at the end of his rope to fight for both his life and... this man's.
"Well!" He speaks up, in somewhat better cheer as he moves slowly, carefully, surely... then removes his hand from his back, said hand now stained in his blood, to clap his hands together, as if suddenly appearing in this strange, obsidian-walled place were just an everyday happening.
"If he said what I think he saaaaaaaiiiiiid..."
He stretches out that word with a bit of mischievousness. What? No thanking of Brett? No checking to see if he's okay? Did he really even come to his aid to begin with?
"Time Sphere! Dooooowwwwwn... thatway." He rubs his hands together, leaning forward as a smile crawls onto his face. "Tell ya what! Ol' Ryuhaku Todoh's in a good, good mood, see."
Even with a grievous back wound.
"Whole lotta trouble, just for that... but now, it's gonna be aaaaaall good for m-- us. Yes. Us. Come now!" He clears his throat, as if thinking that maybe there should be, for once, some token attempt at acknowledging Brett's overall contributions.
"Well, kid, you were fantastic, but y'know?"
He takes out a fan with his unbloodied hand, to fan himself as he decides to lead the way, grinning all the while as he giggles in a way that would even be inappropriate for someone maybe a tenth of his age.
"But you know! So was I! Yeh hah hah!!"
Could relief be in sight for these two at last, having come across such an inexplicable place, suffered an almost unbeatable foe, and survived an unexplainable phenomena regarding time and space itself?
It took nearly having his ribs pulverized into powder, not to mention a horrible dart wound to the shoulder, but Brett finally got in a clean shot on the so-called Guardian, the axe-handled blast to the back of Shion's neck bringing him to the ground. And Brett follows, not too long after, clutching his ribs and rolling with the momentum his skates still provided. A strained, near sobbing cry comes out of Brett finally as his adrenaline starts to give out finally. But by the time he's done rolling around in pain, he sees the world start to turn topsy turvy.
Shion's words ringing out into his ears, he sees the entire ruins start upward...or maybe it was downward, and they were still rising upward, upside down....he honestly couldn't tell at this point. It isn't until the world goes still black and stays still black that Brett starts to steady himself back onto his feet. Another spat of blood is tossed from his mouth, barely staining the ground in the obsidian cave. Looking up, he sees a pedestal, an ornate one with a mist-filled sphere of some kind. Is that.....
The word 'Time Sphere' crosses Brett's mind again, remembering what Shion had said. Turning to Todoh, he swallows a bit of blood before slowly pushing himself toward the sphere. "This isn't something we should be keeping. At least...I don't think it is..." he insists, frowning a bit more at the older man's odd capriciousness. He then turns back to the sphere, frowning and regarding it a bit more. He's not interested in faint praise right now. He wanted answers and...this might be the start of it. "....Still...what is it, even? " It's a Sphere...and it's called the 'Time Sphere'....but past that, Brett had no comprehension of what it could be or could do, even as he tried to reach out and touch a finger ever so gently against the sphere.
"Oh, hogwash! And then hogdirt, which is so dirty it goes back into the hogwash!!" Todoh throws both his hands up. "Lemme tell you something--"
He grimaces, having a brief brush with the understandable reality of nearly being run through his back, as he brings his already bloodied hand against it. He tries to stand tall and defiant of this fact anyway, even as the muscles of his back scream in painful agony. He doesn't look like he's winning that fight to keep standing that way, as is reflected in the pained inflection of his next words.
"Iiiiiii disagree," he huffs, "I mean... YOU wandered here, didn't yoooou? So this, I ask you, because... because... for some reason I acknowledge your existence!" And what the hell is that condescending statement supposed to mean? His eyes focus less and less on Brett and more upon the Time Sphere.
So much so, he doesn't notice Brett creeping ever closer to touch it as he starts to rant.
"The point iiiiis... I shouldn't-- we shouldn't leave it here, because... because... um. Quiet people! Renegade... Tin Man cosplayers from that... that movie about cyclones and red shoes!" Is he just making things up?
"All really unpleasant! Moreso than me, because I, obviously, am a perfect gent--"
He sees Brett walk up to touch the sphere, at which point he swings his fan down against his fingers. "NO!" He screams.
Beat.
"I mean... no, be... very careful, don't... touch," he waves his bloody hand, curled into a fist save for a waving, waggling finger, leaning ever closer to Brett with a sneer. (Which is funny, because he's shorter than Brett... also lighter.)
"We can't well leave it alone, you see... we might not ever make it back-- er, ahem! Who knows who else might... soil this precious," he leans towards it, "beautiful," ever closer, "amazing," just shy of rubbing his face all over it, "thing."
The rambling and winding words coming from Todoh fade into a buzz for Brett, and not just because they continually make less and less sense the more he talks. That IS part of the reason, mind, but not the only one. He listens as far as 'red shoes' before his bare finger touches the sphere. His body jolts and eyes bug out as, in that split second of contact, he could feel his world come down around him. Not in the literal sense, of course, but, the metaphorical, the kind of collapse that makes one want to curl up into a fetal position, close their eyes, and never wake up again. The kind of feeling one might feel if their entire family died in front of them while they couldn't lift a finger to do anything about it.
Total, utter, bottomless despair, blacker than the cave they were caught in.
Reeling away, Brett lurched away and started to vomit, though a good part of that is simply from the current state of his insides. The mental and spiritual shock of that glimpse just tipped the scale over. "HRRRULLLGHHHH!!!" A few retching coughs later (and a double-armed clutch at his ribs), he managed to look up to Todoh, red faced, teary-eyed as he barely managed to pull an arm up to wipe off his mouth. Eyes go wide when he sees him come closer than even the hockey kid dared to. "NO!" he shouts, trying to push him away before he got too close. He just touched it with a finger...imagine what full-face contact would do.
"You're right, we...can't leave it alone. It's too dangerous, but...how do we take it?" It's at this point that Brett wishes he didn't remove his gloves before....
Ryuhaku seems entirely without concern for Brett's continued health, given his overt fixation upon... that mysterious thing that does not seem to belong in the same, mundane space that these two people live in.
The mundane space they may have believed they were a part of, in any case.
So much so, Brett pushing him aside as he lands on his side and puts a bit of pressure on his back wound is worthy of a yell as he kicks one of his legs up as a reflex to this shock of pain.
"Aw, c'mon!! I wanted to do that to you fiiiirst," he whines, whatever veiled attempts at hiding his motives (...that ever existed to begin with, the veiled attempts that is, it's like he's not even trying) being swept away in a broad stroke of spite and pettiness.
"How do WE take it?" He wheezes aloud. "How do I take it?! Lemme tell yooooouuuu," he wheezes out as he pulls himself back up. Pained. Weakened. He tries to steady himself by placing his hands together in front of him, which is of limited success. The two of them are both rather hurt, after all.
"I! Am the master of the greatest martial arts style there is!" Here we go again...
"I! Have been humiliated and somehow overcome by Takuma and his merry little band of dweebenheimers because they CHEAT." He grinds his teeth in sheer rage.
"THIS!" He points a fan over to it. "IS..."
Beat.
"A Time Sphere." He says flatly, calming down just a little. "Look, kid! I've been around the block! I DISCOVERED THE THIRD DIMENSION!!" He shakes a bloody fist to the heavens (which is to say, the roof of this mysterious obsidian cave). "And if I have it MY way, I've got patents ready up to the ninth one! The tourism industry will be mine!!"
He huffs, puffs, and bares his teeth, eyes wide and bloodshot with the fury of old man self-entitlement and other sorts of other fallacies as a human being that probably account for a lot.
At which point he slumps, eyes narrowing, mouth shutting to a thin line as he speaks quickly and quietly.
"Seriously, lemme just take this thing 'cause I want it--"
Will Brett let him do it? Should he?
Having shoved Todoh away before the older man could make the grand mistake of touching the sphere (with his FACE, no less), Brett Neuer finds himself in the unenviable position of having to juggle two crises: 1) how to get out of here, and 2) what to do with the time sphere. Much as he didn't want to say it out loud, he found himself increasingly worried about the man, and his fixation on the sphere. Esepcially after that touch told him all he needed to know.
"Mister...I really honestly have no idea what you're talking about. But..." He opens his mouth again, before just shutting it again. At this point, it's probably pointless to argue with him. Not with that weird tangent he's going on again. Instead, he turns back to the Sphere. The sphere that simply LOOKING at reminds him of that sickening feeling of dread and despair that he barely got a mere inkling of before reeling away. One that he didn't want anything more to do with....
But someone had to deal with that sphere. So with that thought, he pulled away the last scraps of his rib padding, teeth grinding as he tried to block out the pain. Using the last vestages of his padding to make SOME kind of pouch to hold the sphere in wasn't the best of ideas. But honestly, he'd rather do that than touch it bare-handed again, or, even worse, leave it to a rambling old man with delusions of granduer to take care of.
"ME NEITHER!" A concession? "It. Doesn't. Matter!" How does he keep finding room to have... volume? And not spend the rest of the time he's wasting here attempt to completely halt whatever bleeding he's suffering, let alone stomach such excruciating pain? Whatever it is that drives him...
"I didn't take it from that muffin man Tom, I don't care how long he's been making muffins, and I'm not takin' it from YOU!" He points.
Beat.
"Waaaaiiiittt... noooo. What am I even saying?!" Is the old man beginning to have a moment of introspection? He brings his bloodied hand to his chin and scratches it, as Brett struggles to fashion a nice carrying case-thing for the sphere. "Hah! Did you just hear what I said? That I'm not takin' it from you. How silly is that? Come, now."
He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes, tilting his head back, raising his hands above his head. Surely, he's calming down, to find his center, to hold his temper and impulsiveness for the sake of--
"OF COURSE I'M FRIGGIN' TAKIN' IT FROM YOU!" He yells as he brings his hands down upon the makeshift pouch to try and rip it free from Brett's grasp so that he may, naturally, bag the sphere for himself.
"Mine at laaaast! How long I've waited for thiiis--"
Will Brett allow this to stand? He could be more than just a survivor against the enigmatic assassin, Shion.
He might be the world's last hope.
The makeshift pouch of velcro, foam, and whatever patented facbric his padding was made out of was hardly the most ideal keeping bag, but it seemed like it was the best option still. Trying not to succumb to his ribs and simply pass out here on the spot, Brett continued to try and block out the increasing inanities coming from the mustaschioed man, just hoping to have something to house the sphere without skin contact necessary. Before he can fully cinch it on and pick the sphere up from its clawed pedestal, however, he starts listening in a bit more to what Todoh says....
Just in time for him to scream in a way that echoes through the obsidian cavern. Eyes widening, he snaps his head back toward Todoh just as the older man reaches for the pouch. With his ribs the last thing on his mind at this point, he tries to lock his arms around the old master's head and neck. He may not be a wrestler, but he knows a sleeper hold enough, having used it on relatives on occasion. Usually they were drunk to the gills and needed to be calmed down post haste before they hurt anyone. And the old master was right around his belligerent uncle's age...it'd be just like that, wouldn't it?
"You're...hurghh...not in your right mind....please calm down, I don't want to...nngh...hurt the person to saved me..." It takes all his fortitude to try and cinch the hold without losing his lunch a second time and passing out.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Todoh with Armed Combo.
[ \\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Todoh 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Brett
The timid, seemingly mousy Brett Neuer wouldn't convince most people from afar that he'd be capable of much... even with his size. Overly shy, overly cautious in his approaches, he is all that stands between Ryuhaku Todoh... and whatever sort of madness that man might inflict upon the world with that Time Sphere. It is probably beyond even his understanding.
If he even means half the madness that has spilled forth from that gaping maw filled to the brim with envy, irritation, and entitlement.
"G-Get off!" Todoh struggles as Brett locks his arms around him. He is twisted about to where his back muscles spasm in pain from his orientation, as Brett holds on for dear life - or just pretends that he's dealing with a drunk uncle.
Ryuhaku Todoh may in fact be the elemental embodiment of every belligerent uncle ever. Science will never know. (Sorcery probably won't either. All we have left is an educated guess.)
"Gaaaakakakakakakahhhffff!" He chokes and wheezes as he thrusts an arm out, waving it harmlessly in the air without any real meaningful force - or even close proximity to Brett's face. He tries to reach out to the sphere instead, but he has been wrestled only a mere inch or two too far.
It is a narrow save, as the aging master blacks out from the sleeper hold. His arm goes limp. He grows motionless. Brett may be hesitant to hurt his ally of convenience, but in this case, he had no choice, lest... things... could have happened.
What things? One may never know, and this could be considered a good thing, as Brett is now dealt complete freedom to deal with the Time Sphere as he wishes.
COMBATSYS: Todoh takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Brett 0/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Todoh can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Brett 0/-------/=======|
Size and disposition in conflict, Brett tries to hold onto the sleeper for only as long as he needs to, exacerbated further by the state of his injuries. He only realizes Todoh's own when he manages to get blood all over his shirt from the back wound. He doesn't let up on the sleeper, though, not until Todoh is fully down and limp. Letting the older man down lightly, Brett plants a hand on the ground for balance.
Looking up to the sphere, all encased in the padding pouch he had managed to finish and slip over the dangerous thing, he pondered. What the heck was he going to do with this thing? He already knew how bad touching it was...and Todoh gave him a taste of what other people might do for it. Pulling himself up slowly by the pedestal, the young Mr. Neuer brought his hand over the pouch, making sure not to touch any of the actual orb within while he turned it over to pull it away from its altar. Hanging it down like a bowling ball bag, he raspily breathed in, some relief allowed before he looked around. Now the all consuming question arose:
How the heck was he going to get out of here? With the unconcscious crazy old man in tow, at that?...
COMBATSYS: Brett has ended the fight here.
Log created on 12:32:01 09/06/2014 by Shion, and last modified on 04:32:06 10/21/2014.