Oh sure! That is a-ok.
Sikako J Member
Lizard in a Mask
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 60 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Sikako J 10 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
@Framing A Moose Near the top there is a spot to click on for Characters, close to the OOC and IC links.
Lucky was busy in the less glamorous portion of the location. Suited her just fine, didn't much care for niceties that didn't serve a purpose. The simple things in life were plenty enough.
The red light was flashing on that damn ear piece again, what had she gone and done now?
"Ah feck..i'm not so gran' wi' dees new fangled wireless set. I'm 'ere gran' so, got de gewds planted wi' a wee bit extra for sum kicks aye." She said much louder into the set than was required. "Ran across sum security types, 'ad ter bash dem somethin' gran' an' added ter me teet collecshun."
Pulling off her bandana she rubbed the blood from the stained reinforced metal stock of her Super 90 with care. Ol' Gus had been with her for most of her runs since she could remember, better start taking some care of him. Flicking the cap of her little device as she cleaned her blood began to pump, waiting for the fun to really began with a bang.
@TemplarKnight07 @Doc Doctor
The red light was flashing on that damn ear piece again, what had she gone and done now?
"Ah feck..i'm not so gran' wi' dees new fangled wireless set. I'm 'ere gran' so, got de gewds planted wi' a wee bit extra for sum kicks aye." She said much louder into the set than was required. "Ran across sum security types, 'ad ter bash dem somethin' gran' an' added ter me teet collecshun."
Pulling off her bandana she rubbed the blood from the stained reinforced metal stock of her Super 90 with care. Ol' Gus had been with her for most of her runs since she could remember, better start taking some care of him. Flicking the cap of her little device as she cleaned her blood began to pump, waiting for the fun to really began with a bang.
@TemplarKnight07 @Doc Doctor
Still Accepting :D
Two of the four attacks struck, however the strange wing like apparatus that didn't seem to quite belong on the horror's body. It didn't reach out to take her and absorb her into its gooey flowing mass like a mistwraith would. Instead a flash of light slipped from is tail as flung like a trebuchet. A thin line of blue rocketed towards her, it had to be one of her daggers. This was not good.
She instinctually burned iron and pulled against a container to her left jutting in the air to the side. But it wasn't quick enough, as the flat of the blade cracked against her knee in a shower of pain. Falling to the ground, she rolled trying to absorb the impact as best she could.
In a hurry she began to burn Petwer, her skin and muscles toughening a little as it went to work on the injured leg. She had heard stories of a Pewter-arm able to run on a broken leg for an hour before he ran out of his metal and collapsed in pain. With any luck it wasn't a break and this injury should have lasting effect for too long.
She looked up for the creature.
"Rust and ruin!" she had lost him in the frantic escape and attack.
With the metal fueling a rapid recovery and energizing her muscles she withdrew a coin from her pocket and dropped it to the ground. With a quick steel push she launched herself upward to land on a container not too far away. Landing with as much grace as she could muster with the injured leg her eyes looked about.
Deciding that not knowing where this being was indeed worrisome. Reaching for her small bronze reserves and burned. She didn't much care for the way she felt using this ability. Most bronze users, or seekers, were a strange lot always overly suspicions. The effect made her head feel fuzzy as what she could only describe as 'pulses' began to appear to her ears. It was made or sensing allomantic powers however, she had found in her travels that beings with abilities often released similar pulses as well.
Pulling the large metal ball out of her back pocket she tossed it to the air and pushed it upwards with steel a good distance. Lightened up she hoped to be bale to react a little quicker.
She instinctually burned iron and pulled against a container to her left jutting in the air to the side. But it wasn't quick enough, as the flat of the blade cracked against her knee in a shower of pain. Falling to the ground, she rolled trying to absorb the impact as best she could.
In a hurry she began to burn Petwer, her skin and muscles toughening a little as it went to work on the injured leg. She had heard stories of a Pewter-arm able to run on a broken leg for an hour before he ran out of his metal and collapsed in pain. With any luck it wasn't a break and this injury should have lasting effect for too long.
She looked up for the creature.
"Rust and ruin!" she had lost him in the frantic escape and attack.
With the metal fueling a rapid recovery and energizing her muscles she withdrew a coin from her pocket and dropped it to the ground. With a quick steel push she launched herself upward to land on a container not too far away. Landing with as much grace as she could muster with the injured leg her eyes looked about.
Deciding that not knowing where this being was indeed worrisome. Reaching for her small bronze reserves and burned. She didn't much care for the way she felt using this ability. Most bronze users, or seekers, were a strange lot always overly suspicions. The effect made her head feel fuzzy as what she could only describe as 'pulses' began to appear to her ears. It was made or sensing allomantic powers however, she had found in her travels that beings with abilities often released similar pulses as well.
Pulling the large metal ball out of her back pocket she tossed it to the air and pushed it upwards with steel a good distance. Lightened up she hoped to be bale to react a little quicker.
"Foolish, never let your foe catch you in the air!" Clubs words ringed in her head, as a quick memory of that terrible hunk of wood swatting her in the chest.
The maniac was fast. Perhaps not a Pewter-arm, but damned quick. She hadn't anticipated such quick movements with that blade in his hand. They were on a collision course and she had coins, where he had a rather long and sharp looking blade. Her steel couldn't push the blade away, not with the small amount she had left.
Touchdown.
He was upon her, the blade ready to take her in the shoulder. What sweet hell did that blade contain to be able to resist allomancy? Doing the only option with her limited supply of metals, she instead diverted one coin downward into the ground let the others remain on their course, sharpened sides ready to dig into whatever presented itself in their path. Once the coin hit the ground with a ping it was no longer her body weight pushing on the coin, now it the world pushing against her. She kept the burn going until the steel was used up, sending her upward at an angle as she pushed off with pewter powered legs.
The blade was too close she knew it would strike, but now maybe she wouldn't be run through. Instead a long slice among her side or leg might be the result. Hand darting back the withdrew yet another vial and gulped it down before letting the glass tube drop. He prepared for the pain to tear into her once more, hoping that the blade didn't have a paralytic effect should she drop to the ground form her steel jump like a stack of bricks.
The maniac was fast. Perhaps not a Pewter-arm, but damned quick. She hadn't anticipated such quick movements with that blade in his hand. They were on a collision course and she had coins, where he had a rather long and sharp looking blade. Her steel couldn't push the blade away, not with the small amount she had left.
Touchdown.
He was upon her, the blade ready to take her in the shoulder. What sweet hell did that blade contain to be able to resist allomancy? Doing the only option with her limited supply of metals, she instead diverted one coin downward into the ground let the others remain on their course, sharpened sides ready to dig into whatever presented itself in their path. Once the coin hit the ground with a ping it was no longer her body weight pushing on the coin, now it the world pushing against her. She kept the burn going until the steel was used up, sending her upward at an angle as she pushed off with pewter powered legs.
The blade was too close she knew it would strike, but now maybe she wouldn't be run through. Instead a long slice among her side or leg might be the result. Hand darting back the withdrew yet another vial and gulped it down before letting the glass tube drop. He prepared for the pain to tear into her once more, hoping that the blade didn't have a paralytic effect should she drop to the ground form her steel jump like a stack of bricks.
Despite her training. Despite the horrors she had seen of the noblemen on the Skaa people. Regardless of the eyeless Steel Inquisitors and blue skinned Koloss whose muscles were so large it split their skin, she had never seen anything like this before. Terror struck her like a punch to the gut. She sucked in air as she took a half step back. This...this was a think of nightmares. Only the dead Lord Ruler could have made such a monster.
She extinguished the burn on her tin. The sharpness of the glistening skin dimmed a little, the smell of the moldy skin lightened, terrible sound of the sucking slime lowered. Her mind screamed!
RUN YOU FOOL!
Flaring steel she prayed it would be enough to escape. Focusing on the four thin lines of her daggers she willed them to launch forward from their break away scabbards and plunge into the oozing mass. She had no vital targets to aim for, only to try and cause it a distraction as she tried to escape. At the same time she focused on the thick blue line of the container itself and pushed. Unlike the daggers, the container weight much more than she did. Thus when its weight was pushed against, it was she that was thrown backwards like a rag doll fired from a cannon.
Hoping this was enough to escape its reach her left hand went for a front pouch as her right locked onto her chain belt.
She extinguished the burn on her tin. The sharpness of the glistening skin dimmed a little, the smell of the moldy skin lightened, terrible sound of the sucking slime lowered. Her mind screamed!
RUN YOU FOOL!
Flaring steel she prayed it would be enough to escape. Focusing on the four thin lines of her daggers she willed them to launch forward from their break away scabbards and plunge into the oozing mass. She had no vital targets to aim for, only to try and cause it a distraction as she tried to escape. At the same time she focused on the thick blue line of the container itself and pushed. Unlike the daggers, the container weight much more than she did. Thus when its weight was pushed against, it was she that was thrown backwards like a rag doll fired from a cannon.
Hoping this was enough to escape its reach her left hand went for a front pouch as her right locked onto her chain belt.
Neala, or "Lucky Nine-Fingers, as she preferred among her colleagues was picking her fingernails on her left four fingered hand of black powder a she listened. She felt a few eyes skim over her at the discussion of the Irish Mod. She simply shrugged.
"Ah oi agree de Oirish are violent, dumb, 'ot-heads. But isn't dat why yer al' love me? Who else wud voluntare ter wear a pipe bomb vest on occasion?"
The shoutgun on her back looked as if it had been ran through a washing machine full of rocks. Well honesty she didn't look to hot to speak off. Cut and scars covered her visible body as she whistled through a missing canine tooth. Her fur covered blue jacket only partially covered the Kevlar vest that had become her usual shirt. Ass kicking boots had a metal banded with studded spikes that looked more at home on a biker.
"Feck de mob boys, they are too greedy ter nu a gran' tin'. Oi still 'av contacts overseas if needed. Soon as yer dig up family oi'm 'appy ter pay dem a visit. make sure they nu messin' wi' us 'ill leave dem wi' nathin'. Till den oi don't mind bein' bait if nade be. yer al' nu oi'm de luckiest langer raun.
"Ah oi agree de Oirish are violent, dumb, 'ot-heads. But isn't dat why yer al' love me? Who else wud voluntare ter wear a pipe bomb vest on occasion?"
The shoutgun on her back looked as if it had been ran through a washing machine full of rocks. Well honesty she didn't look to hot to speak off. Cut and scars covered her visible body as she whistled through a missing canine tooth. Her fur covered blue jacket only partially covered the Kevlar vest that had become her usual shirt. Ass kicking boots had a metal banded with studded spikes that looked more at home on a biker.
"Feck de mob boys, they are too greedy ter nu a gran' tin'. Oi still 'av contacts overseas if needed. Soon as yer dig up family oi'm 'appy ter pay dem a visit. make sure they nu messin' wi' us 'ill leave dem wi' nathin'. Till den oi don't mind bein' bait if nade be. yer al' nu oi'm de luckiest langer raun.
-------------------------------------------
*Name: Neala Ó Nualláin. Naw middle name, a darn shame oi tell yer.
*Alias: "Lucky Nine-Fingers". On account av me 'an' ya see.
*Age: Twenty-seven.
*Height: 5'8
*Weight: 11 Stones, giv'er take.
*Appearance: Take a gander, not too fancy.
*Physical Abilities/Skills: A bit of fisticuffs, some local training with the Freedom Movement boys, Shotguns specialization, oh that and I can build a decent pipe bomb or grenade.
*Personality: Quirks, huh? Reckon ye count loadin' me shells wi' punks teeth oi 'av knocked oyt? Love de smell av licorice an' de taste av gin.
*Background: I'll get to it.
*Theme Music: I'm Shipping Up to Boston
*Name: Neala Ó Nualláin. Naw middle name, a darn shame oi tell yer.
*Alias: "Lucky Nine-Fingers". On account av me 'an' ya see.
*Age: Twenty-seven.
*Height: 5'8
*Weight: 11 Stones, giv'er take.
*Appearance: Take a gander, not too fancy.
*Physical Abilities/Skills: A bit of fisticuffs, some local training with the Freedom Movement boys, Shotguns specialization, oh that and I can build a decent pipe bomb or grenade.
*Personality: Quirks, huh? Reckon ye count loadin' me shells wi' punks teeth oi 'av knocked oyt? Love de smell av licorice an' de taste av gin.
*Background: I'll get to it.
*Theme Music: I'm Shipping Up to Boston
Her eyes caught the flamboyant scene with a sense of awe. The movements were well practiced an with such grace she had to appreciate the display. The first of her daggers clattering not a foot or two behind him the second to his right side about three feet off target, putting up a few desperate sparks before rolling to a stop.
The fabric dropped to ground in a near slow monition style as audible click of metal was heard. She had only a moment to allow her eyes to dart down to his other hand a weapon! Her eyes went wide as a deafening -CRACK- tore into her eardrum like a company of drummers on either side of her head struck in unison. She tensed unintentionally as a streak of blue came speeding towards her!
Should couldn't dodge this attack, her head still splitting from the explosion of the shot. She did what any coin shot would. Faring the steel in her stomach the heat increased in her stomach, the metal burning at a frenzied rate and pushed forward at the projectile. Her full weight multiplied by the expended metal slowed it, but the weapon had stopping power and she wasn't focused.
Pain erupted from her side as she let out an audible cry. The metal ball lodging its self slight upward from its intend target, making its way through the leather armor with little effort. Balling her fists she extinguished the Tin and was rewarded with a slight drop in feeling. Her legs wobble adjusting to the new numbness as she heard his threat.
He wanted to kill her.
The masked maniac was moving closer. She had to respond, before he attacked again. She ended the tap on her steel, nearly gone from the burst. Resolve flooded her as the pain in her side pulsed, she reverted back to her training. Find the Pewter in her stomach she mustered a grim smirk as she lit it aflame.
Should he notice her stance altered, her natural balance altering to the pinnacle of her being. Her muscles screamed with unused power, begging to be used as the slight fatigue of her travel washed away like dirt amid a thunderous downpour. Little could he see the healing that started to take place. She was no Steel Inquisitor, but Pewter could turn mortal wounds non-fatal. Refusing to allow the fear digging at the back of her mind purchase she instead flung herself forward in an eight foot leap that she normally would have had not business being capable of, much less with a wound.
"I am a survivor.." she muttered, almost more to herself than the masked man in the air.
Landing in a moment's notice she withdrew her hand. Her right hand opened as she flared the remaining steel in her stomach. As result a fist full of sharpened coins launched out like improvised grape shot with intents of tearing into the man like a ship's main mast. With the steel now gone she now had only iron, tin, and pewter in her system. At the same time she focused on the weapon that had harmed her with laser focus. Reaching out to its "metal line" she pulled with a vengeance, not so much as to destroy it, but pull with all her weight and some to throw of his gaunt. He might find that dodging with an additional one hundred and sixty pound to be troublesome as the coins shot forward.
Keeping her left hand in its pouch she watched on.
The fabric dropped to ground in a near slow monition style as audible click of metal was heard. She had only a moment to allow her eyes to dart down to his other hand a weapon! Her eyes went wide as a deafening -CRACK- tore into her eardrum like a company of drummers on either side of her head struck in unison. She tensed unintentionally as a streak of blue came speeding towards her!
Should couldn't dodge this attack, her head still splitting from the explosion of the shot. She did what any coin shot would. Faring the steel in her stomach the heat increased in her stomach, the metal burning at a frenzied rate and pushed forward at the projectile. Her full weight multiplied by the expended metal slowed it, but the weapon had stopping power and she wasn't focused.
Pain erupted from her side as she let out an audible cry. The metal ball lodging its self slight upward from its intend target, making its way through the leather armor with little effort. Balling her fists she extinguished the Tin and was rewarded with a slight drop in feeling. Her legs wobble adjusting to the new numbness as she heard his threat.
He wanted to kill her.
The masked maniac was moving closer. She had to respond, before he attacked again. She ended the tap on her steel, nearly gone from the burst. Resolve flooded her as the pain in her side pulsed, she reverted back to her training. Find the Pewter in her stomach she mustered a grim smirk as she lit it aflame.
Should he notice her stance altered, her natural balance altering to the pinnacle of her being. Her muscles screamed with unused power, begging to be used as the slight fatigue of her travel washed away like dirt amid a thunderous downpour. Little could he see the healing that started to take place. She was no Steel Inquisitor, but Pewter could turn mortal wounds non-fatal. Refusing to allow the fear digging at the back of her mind purchase she instead flung herself forward in an eight foot leap that she normally would have had not business being capable of, much less with a wound.
"I am a survivor.." she muttered, almost more to herself than the masked man in the air.
Landing in a moment's notice she withdrew her hand. Her right hand opened as she flared the remaining steel in her stomach. As result a fist full of sharpened coins launched out like improvised grape shot with intents of tearing into the man like a ship's main mast. With the steel now gone she now had only iron, tin, and pewter in her system. At the same time she focused on the weapon that had harmed her with laser focus. Reaching out to its "metal line" she pulled with a vengeance, not so much as to destroy it, but pull with all her weight and some to throw of his gaunt. He might find that dodging with an additional one hundred and sixty pound to be troublesome as the coins shot forward.
Keeping her left hand in its pouch she watched on.
© 2007-2024