Description: Juri vs. ????: "A battle of untold savagery. JURI. GRANT. Among all of our fighters who have gathered here today, I take special interest in those who do not believe in the fetters that society-**A NEW CHALLENGER HAS APPEARED!** Or, I guess you could fight that one guy down there who is already in the ring.
YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!
She'd walked to the coast to confirm it with her own eyes rather than accept the disgusting old man's word. She had her seething and rage fuelled tantrum right there at the seaside, curses to the heavens and depths while railing against this cruel twist of the knife.
It hadn't been a lie. She was part of an arbitrarily and unconsenting 'group' of misfits summoned to some forsaken hellhole, To 'protect' their realm and save - the - world.
That wasn't her scene, this was the rubbish Vega had been preparing himself for. She gave absolutely no shits. Earth under new management might just be a different kind of interesting than it was right now.
It would be enough to drive her to uncontrollable fits of laughter but for all the people trying to tell her what to do, assuming she was their comrade.. or worst of all? Those familiar enough with her name to know who she was, who her father was. People had preconceptions about who she would or what she'd be like based on a relation to a dead man. If he were still alive? He would be the one here and she would not have been summoned; another piece of conjecture and whispered slight that was being spit in her face.
She'd skipped out on the time she was told to attend and be ready for this tournament. Not interested, the earth could magic up fighters to defend itself when it ran out of willing idiots willing to do the job for free and of their own accord.
Slinking back there was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed an out. Boat, plane or whatever the hell the old guy had stashed around here. The party looked to still be going strong, braziers all lit and enough guards still in attendance, once informed enough to allow her back in like they were expecting her. And why the hell wouldn't they.. she had nowhere else to go and everyone knew it.
"OI--! Old man!! If you're still here come on out."
If she had to deal, she would. She didn't like being led by the nose or told where to be or what she'd be doing. Fuck this noise, she knew what the stakes were and while death was worth risking for a bit of fun. All there was to win here were moral victory and the safety of other people.
Nothing but shit.
Shang Tsung had personally requested two warriors to fight before him in his very throne room. Two of the finest bastions of violence to walk the Earthrealm.
Regardless of their affiliations and beliefs as gauged against the competing powers and interests of Earth's residents... as a whole, they may be among two of the greatest to speak on behalf of a planet that neither of them care about the vast, vast majority of.
Juri's rude call has an answer from the shadows.
No, that's too cool to say. This is just someone in a dark purple hood. Juri has seen a lot of people in dark purple hoods milling about the place, partaking in all sorts of profane (or really kinda awesome, depending on her tastes) rituals. This must be a messenger, then? She can't make out the face due to the hood, only the flesh tone of the hands within. Caucasian, by Earth terms. Under six feet, but not by that much.
The footwear is visible for only about a second at a time with every footstep - some kind of sandals. Something blue might catch the eye between the big toe and its nearest neighbor. Small and flat. It's probably not important, so much as a weird detail. Maybe some blue rock got stuck between his toes while walking around? Some flat blue rock. Almost paper-y.
He doesn't bear any sort of resemblance to the man Juri may have seen. This is not the giant, muscular masked man whom practicies a dark form of karate that boasts nearly unmatched physical strength compared to the rest of humanity.
There's almost nothing remarkable about him, beyond his foolhardy willingness to stand in the way.
This is not Grant.
There's no protest from anyone. Was this a trap?!
"Champion of Earthrealm," addresses a voice that's not that remarkable or memorable, "I'll take care of you."
Is that a threat? It's rather limply phrased. Forgettable, weak, generic, as he raises his fists up in a motion where they begin to circle...
Looks like Juri is going to have to pick up the trash around here on behalf of Earthrealm, after all.
COMBATSYS: Henchman has started a fight here on the right meter side.
COMBATSYS: Henchman equips a dim Blue Soul Shard.
|-------\-------\0 [E] Henchman
Who was this loser?
Someone else who was waiting for the old man or another queue jumper? She wasn't in a mood to suffer fools lightly right now, not that she didn't also take too kindly to being addressed as a champion of anything. He was blindly pushing buttons that ought not be pressed at the best of times.
The slim Korean woman rolls her head back while craning around to look at him directly. There's a lull in her restless activity as she just stares across at him. He'd called down this attention upon himself and in doing so her stare at him is with eyes positively starting to glaze over.
What was that?
Maybe she had misheard. The trash with almost no power whatsoever had seemed to be challenging her. After the day she was having, that'd be the final straw. Picking at the inside of her ear with her pinkie she takes a second to screws the hand back and forth so as if to clear it of obstruction that was interfering with her hearing.
Hand with the still neatly coloured laquered nails (experimenting with violet) was nested on her the bare skin of her hip, nestled between the crimson coloured and tied pyjama bottoms and the translucent camisole top that obscuered more by its colouration than hiding detail and contour beneath.
The fact that the others in the room seemed to be taking this whole thing as though it were serious. Officious ringing of gongs and all this other traditional rubbish, the whole scenario was a joke. They were taking him seriously.. and her NOT! Fuck this place, the old guy!! The Island itself!!! .. but right now, most of all.
Fuck. This. Guy.
"You know, I'm not gonna let you off easy."
She hoped he didn't die too quick.
The glint in her eye is entirely unnatural, the wrong colour to be cast by the firelight as she begins her rampage before there's even the announcement to fight. The kick off and glide across the ground is such her feet don't need to touch the ground between the launch and victim. Where she does come into land it's on the one leg as the other coiled close to her body to cock and then fire the side thrust kick up into the fools neck and chin.
COMBATSYS: Juri has joined the fight here.
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Juri 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 [E] Henchman
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Henchman with Thrust Kick.
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Juri 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 [E] Henchman
This mysterious goon, if he's even worthy of note to be called mysterious, is officially let off easy with a kick to the face. He is flung free off of his feet, high on up into the air of the throne room with the crack of thunder.
The body takes a long time to come back down. It doesn't seem to make sense, what with where the ceiling is located. By Juri standards, that is probably indeed being let off easily...
Someone in purple robes, covered in dust and rocky crumbs slides down one of the walls, finding - somehow - enough of a foothold in the ornate and elaborate architecture to do that. The truth of the matter is made plain.
That wasn't thunder. That was the sound of his body hitting the ceiling. He seems like he's done a remarkable job of surviving that.
To a point. There is a bloody single-mindedness to this person. Maybe they're not worth being considered a person. They're an obstacle. Someone that exists to just be an obstacle, a speed-bump, with little to no other reason than being. Someone's prop, someone's backdrop. Just about everyone is the main character of their own life story, but something about this... that detail is missing.
Who cares, though, right? For all the time it would take for him to stagger towards Juri and maybe try to punch her again, little stops her from kicking him in the face.
COMBATSYS: Henchman takes no action.
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Juri 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 [E] Henchman
That was some great airtime.
Now if someone could just call this face it was already and let her get on with her---? What was that? The sounds of the falling pebble sized chunks of stone draws her eyes and then the grating of that fool sliding down the wall likewise grates and skips across her last fraying nerves. Nobody was stopping the fight, everyone just expected her to pick up the trash and keep going, or sit here and wait for him to recover.
This was a travesty, all the weaklings she'd never have sullied her hands with and she was presented this one as a combatant to face one-on-one. If this was a test there it was one making sport of her abilities and taking her too lightly.
If it was something else- it's meaning escaped her.
"oh~fine! By-all-means; Let's continue this-!!"
No-one was stopping her.
If she had disappointed the old man so much this was his revenge. Being forced into a pitiful fight where she had to go through the motions without feeling anything. There might have been some meaning she took away from all this, if she didn't toe the line she'd be bored to death as well as seemingly trapped.
She lifts the guy to his feet by the front of his robes, unheeding of any danger he might present she reaches out with her free had to try choking him.
Still nobody was going to stop her?
No would be heroes or drama to be had. No-one cared about this fool of a man enough to do that and stop this one sided mismatch. She would have perhaps pitied him just a little if he hadn't asked for it.
COMBATSYS: Henchman blocks Juri's Medium Throw.
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Juri 0/-------/----===|=======\=------\1 [E] Henchman
Juri has her fingers wrapped around the throat of the hooded figure. (The hood still obscures most of his features, unfortunately, aside from a grimace.) His right hand tries to press against her grip.
It's... nominal, at best. Juri wouldn't see anything remotely heroic about this man she is choking the life out of. It is more apt to see this as a compulsion. A singular desire, a singular purpose, a singular reason for being.
"You won't... get away." It's not inspiring dialogue to convince one otherwise, voice strained as his throat seems to be at risk of being crushed...
His left fist shoots out towards her face.
If one were to use hard, correct terms, it's just a single left straight punch that flies out of his sleeve. It fits all the basic definitions to be a punch. A punch that would be effective against an average human being. Juri is not an average human being. Even if it did catch her by surprise, what harm could it do?
It's safer to say, he is indeed going to be a pain in the ass, for whatever pleasure or fulfillment it brings him to be one. Juri is matching barbs with a tenacious object of nominal antagonism.
It would be easy enough to exert her will one last time to sweep him aside for good, wouldn't it?
Nobody present is saying anything for or against what transpires. How much further must this joke continue?
COMBATSYS: Juri dodges Henchman's Sucker Punch.
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Juri 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 [E] Henchman
The pink welt like scratch on her cheek stands out on that pale skin.
The line matching up well with the trajectory of his strike and the arm passing over her shoulder. Her head craned over aside to evade the blow, She was staring at him with her too wide expressive violet eyes. Juri was shocked he had it in him after taking that last hit. He should have rolled over and played dead, Such audacity in lashing out at her in such a manner and with such a low level technique.
He wanted to die. The hiss forming behind lips grows as lips peel back to release it.
" Yeah, fine, whatever. I don't care. You'll do to help me work off some stress!"
Swaing as she moves the other way she drops her hold on the fellow only to pirouette gracefully into the violent SNAG of that punching arm. She turns it down in reverse of a way the joint was never going to willingly accept as she sidesteps to reposition herself behind him. She wanted to force that arm up behind his back the same time she snake an arm across the front of his throat and tighten the hold mercilessly. That melodious voice that sometimes descends into rasps whispering in his ear.
"Such an insignificant morsel but everything looks pretty good when you're starving."
Hunger was the best spice after all, and the Spider was too long without killing or eating. When she smacks her lips, she was actually salivating, like she intended to eat what she killed.
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Henchman with Strong Throw.
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Juri 0/-------/--=====|=======\=======\1 [E] Henchman
Caught in the grasp of a mad spider and her web, there's not much he can do when she lashes out and grasps the punching arm to go behind him. (He seems almost a touch too cooperative, on some deep-seated level, even accounting for the speed of Juri's movement making it a near-impossibility for him - or most fighters, for that matter - to react.)
There's a familiar scream as the cultist... hooded guy... whatever insignificant person this is has their arm bent the wrong way with a series of sickening cracks, their head turning away as if to shield their appearance with the hood. That, or they fainted from the pain. Either or.
"JURI WINS." She'd hear that booming voice. Thus dawns a realization that is either hilarious or frustrating, with no middle ground in between.
This was a formal match?! Against this... lackey? This henchman?!
The thing between his toes flashes its blue color again. There's a sense that some desires may yet continue to go unfulfilled...
No one is saying to finish him...
COMBATSYS: Henchman takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Henchman can no longer fight.
As the figure in her arms goes slack with a cry, she doesn't relent in the slightest.
"And that's ... Game Over."
Pushing at the back of his leg she drops him to his knees, both arms binding and circling around his head and jawline she twists hard with a spasmodic jerk to the side. A sickening snap and she releases the grip with a flourish. Encore! Seizing the same hold again she refuses to let him fall and snaps his neck back the other way in the same manner.
And still without interference. Taking a hold one more time with forearm under his chin she leans back into a jerk upwards and back. Separating the broken vertebrae and letting the skull flop about uselessly.
The twisted woman lowers one hand to the shoulder to keep him upright and wobbles the torso back and forth as she was clearly toying with him, it amused her how it bobbled when she shakes him.
The duration of her amusement can be measured in just single digits of seconds before she tires of it and pushes the body to fall forwards with her foot.
At least they'd acknowledged that she'd won, all she had to do was kill some jerk and so what had she won? An object bouncing to and around on the ground near the corpse draws her eye. She has to stoop to pick it up off the throne room floor but when she does it's with a mirthful laugh. The jokes here were pretty good. Kill a weakling, get a rupee.
Someone else had a sense of humour similar to hers.
"What's this? Encouraging me to bust the place up looking for more?"
She knew well what it looked like, but was playing along and having fun. Maybe this place wasn't so bad if she viewed it like it was one of those old games. Kill everyone, locate and get all the collectibles while accumulating the highest score. That was some element to this whole scene she could engage with. It wasn't about her past, the future or anything to do with anyone vested interests in life or survival. It was a game with winners and losers.
He still hadn't bothered showing his face and attending for this. Why would he? Without an audience she thought worthy of speaking to she lowers her tone and the volume.
"You've got my attention."
She saunters out of the room in higher spirits and with a saucy sway. Feeling much better than when she arrived, bouncing the large ruby red shard in her hand. What it's value was she had no idea but she was still hungry. For some more combat or some food or something. Either/or would hit the spot.
It's visceral. It's disgusting. It's worthy of a kombatant, the way Juri twists, turns, just out and out brutalizes this... no-name... replacable... cog in whatever machine Shang Tsung has going on this island.
Left a broken mess on the floor with his feet pointed up, the extent of the damage done to this man's skull is... sort of tough to go into detail about, partly because the hood still obscures them.
A gleam flashes on the blue construct that, now that one can get a look at it, looks exactly like a body identification tag. There's a name on it and everything, although hard to read. A reflective blue hue shines under the light that runs through the throne room...
Then, they sit up.
THEY SAT UP?!
A hand disappears into the hood, several juicy coughs following as they rise unsteadily back to their full height...
"Oh. So I don't have to call my doctor," this mysterious, forgettable figure says, "that's good."
None surrounding him have anything to say. Some might be stunned. What significance does this one have? Anything? What's so special about this rank-and-file henchman, a lowly servant of the great emperor? Ignorant or uncaring about the lack of vocal response, he limps back off to parts unknown, eventually melting into obscurity alongside a number of other robed figures who probably have some kind of robed figure business to attend to.
Like floating in mid-air at the portal chamber in the tower, or something... (could he do that?)
Log created on 15:14:14 09/17/2016 by Juri, and last modified on 04:22:40 09/26/2016.