Took a bit longer than expected, but at least its out now.
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Odd One Out
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In a word, it was brutal.
Esfir had faced exhaustion before, but it had been far too many years since she had experienced the exhaustion of constant, high-pace physical activity. She had selected Dusk Vision, expecting it to be useful when she went spelunking later on in the day, but once Auguz’s bootcamp truly went under way, the runt decided that she was naïve.
She should have saved some food for breakfast. She should have taken the SP Up bonus.
Then it turned out that the jumping jacks weren’t even the end of it, and Esfir decided that it was a good thing she hadn’t eaten after all. A branch clipped her skull, leaving a bruise and a bleeding wound, and in the haze of pain, she swung back, cracking her own branch over the temple of the offending idiot and knocking them out cold. Unfortunately, that just meant more beatings and screaming, the sort that almost reminded her of her own youth, of the abuse endured in order to be ready to join the frontlines. More than a dozen bruises and welts decorated her body by the end, and she felt every one of them when the wrestling began, as a more creative (or perhaps cruel) runt sought to force compliance via pain. They pressed their knuckles or their toes or their knees into her bruises, and she responded by chomping down on their shoulder, then using her feet to kick away her opponent’s other legs as she wrapped her arms around their neck and squeezed hard.
Was she pissed?
Yes, she was.
She was hungry and she was thirsty and she was wasting far too much energy, when she had so much more to do this day, and these brats thought it right to mouth off still, like this training was going to accomplish anything except make obedient, vicious brutes out of the runts.
The break, at least, allowed Esfir’s blood to cool. Some of her bruises were worse than the others, but she could still push herself. She wanted to push herself, to wrap all this up quick and get out of this stinking, festering pit and return to the forest and the mountains. Find herself a stream with clear water to drink and wash in. Find herself another one of those scaled chickens to make a good meal out of. Her appetite ate at her, and when it was finally her turn, she picked up a two-handed spear from the rack, fixing Auguz with a hard stare before she faced her opponent.
One breath. Two breaths. Three.
“Ok.”
She was going to kill him.
Esfir sprinted forwards, a burst of Murderous Intent emanating from her gaze as she fixed the point of the wooden spear upon the shield-bearer. Even as terror replaced bravado though, he didn’t lose his wits entirely. He had a shield, and what was a shield good for, if not for being raised up to block the thrust?
So that was what he did, of course, and that was what she expected as well when she leapt up, coiled her legs, and drop-kicked the shield with all her might, intending on sending her opponent flat on his back and stunned. The impact of the fall bloomed right over her tender side, but she had braced for it, and scrambled back up to her feet.
If all went to plan, she would be up while he still struggled to, and in that moment of vulnerability, the range of her spear would allow her to skewer his stomach before he could come up swinging with his club.
@Zeroth
Esfir had faced exhaustion before, but it had been far too many years since she had experienced the exhaustion of constant, high-pace physical activity. She had selected Dusk Vision, expecting it to be useful when she went spelunking later on in the day, but once Auguz’s bootcamp truly went under way, the runt decided that she was naïve.
She should have saved some food for breakfast. She should have taken the SP Up bonus.
Then it turned out that the jumping jacks weren’t even the end of it, and Esfir decided that it was a good thing she hadn’t eaten after all. A branch clipped her skull, leaving a bruise and a bleeding wound, and in the haze of pain, she swung back, cracking her own branch over the temple of the offending idiot and knocking them out cold. Unfortunately, that just meant more beatings and screaming, the sort that almost reminded her of her own youth, of the abuse endured in order to be ready to join the frontlines. More than a dozen bruises and welts decorated her body by the end, and she felt every one of them when the wrestling began, as a more creative (or perhaps cruel) runt sought to force compliance via pain. They pressed their knuckles or their toes or their knees into her bruises, and she responded by chomping down on their shoulder, then using her feet to kick away her opponent’s other legs as she wrapped her arms around their neck and squeezed hard.
Was she pissed?
Yes, she was.
She was hungry and she was thirsty and she was wasting far too much energy, when she had so much more to do this day, and these brats thought it right to mouth off still, like this training was going to accomplish anything except make obedient, vicious brutes out of the runts.
The break, at least, allowed Esfir’s blood to cool. Some of her bruises were worse than the others, but she could still push herself. She wanted to push herself, to wrap all this up quick and get out of this stinking, festering pit and return to the forest and the mountains. Find herself a stream with clear water to drink and wash in. Find herself another one of those scaled chickens to make a good meal out of. Her appetite ate at her, and when it was finally her turn, she picked up a two-handed spear from the rack, fixing Auguz with a hard stare before she faced her opponent.
One breath. Two breaths. Three.
“Ok.”
She was going to kill him.
Esfir sprinted forwards, a burst of Murderous Intent emanating from her gaze as she fixed the point of the wooden spear upon the shield-bearer. Even as terror replaced bravado though, he didn’t lose his wits entirely. He had a shield, and what was a shield good for, if not for being raised up to block the thrust?
So that was what he did, of course, and that was what she expected as well when she leapt up, coiled her legs, and drop-kicked the shield with all her might, intending on sending her opponent flat on his back and stunned. The impact of the fall bloomed right over her tender side, but she had braced for it, and scrambled back up to her feet.
If all went to plan, she would be up while he still struggled to, and in that moment of vulnerability, the range of her spear would allow her to skewer his stomach before he could come up swinging with his club.
@Zeroth
//Day 3 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside Camp
@AThousandCurses@Yankee
Shun returned without much aplomb, though a couple waved at her when she emerged from the brush. The beginnings of a second shelter was being built now, supervised by Mayumi. No doubt, gender-segregated shelters were going to be a necessity moving forward, in order to prevent the group of students from devolving into unchaste barbarism. Others fashioned together new tools, weaving nets to more efficiently catch fish or watching Hana as she demonstrated the basics of setting up a snare trap. While they were good on food for the time being after Kumi had spent a night cooking up all the monster meat, having more sources was never a bad thing.
And having a chance of stalling a monster, perhaps, wasn’t too bad either.
That, of course, was only one monster though. When Shun marched up to the center of camp and announced the presence of an even larger group of monsters than before, however? The chaos wasn’t instant, but the trepidation was palatable. There were only half the Awakened in the camp presently, after all. Oros had disappeared, and Asahi and Duncan were both off towards the mountain. With such great numbers…
“A plan’s not going to be enough,” Hiroshi said, matter-of-factly. “We should act immediately on this. Preparations only matter when the foundations have been laid beforehand.”
“Isn’t the lake the best we got?” Ayano spoke up. “If we run away, they’ll just find us again! We can’t even really hide from them, because, you know…”
They all knew, of course. None of them (except maybe Hana) was a covert specialist. Just by living, by making a fire and building a shelter and cooking food they were attracting attention.
Sohei turned to the sole member of the Aeronautics club, and the girl who was the camp’s principal architect. “Rin, could we build a fort with what we have?”
She looked at the rest of them, then shrugged. Lifting up a thick log that had been cut for the new shelter, the girl lifted it up and then cracked it over her knee. It splintered, broke, and fell to two halves after a couple attempts.
“A no, then,” Daisuke said, folding his arms. “We could call back Asahi and Duncan. Shore up our defenses. Then when the monsters come,” he smacked his fists together, “we give them a reason to leave us well alone.”
“‘We’? You mean like, five people at best, right?” Masami was skeptical. “Don’t know if you forgot, but Yuki died because of one of those monsters. And that was when literally every boy in the class was trying to hold it down! What the hell are we going to do when there’s more of them than there are of us?!”
Daisuke scowled, but Maki stepped on his foot before he could say something he'd regret.
“I don’t want to leave here.” Yukiko’s own voice was quiet, scarcely heard, overshadowed by Sasuke’s calm tone as he spoke up. “We have enough cooked food to last, and we can bottle up water as well. There’s nothing wrong with breaking camp if the conditions do not favour us.”
“Christ, you're all making something outta nothing.” Akito folded his arms, having drifted back to camp after seeing the commotion. “If those monsters were the man-eating type, they’d have attacked last night, right?”
Mayumi fixed him with a hard stare, then abruptly turned towards Masato. The student council president had been quiet for much of last evening and this morning, no doubt lost in thought regarding matters of leadership, of Oros, of keeping the group together. But if he was going to use his authority, this was perhaps the best time to do it, or everyone was more liable to talk and discuss rather than act.
“Masato? What do you think?”
//Day 3 | Location: Expedition Through the Nameless Forest
@Nakushita@Vertigo@baraquiel
In truth, none of the trio really understood how things happened.
Certainly, there was no trust between Asahi and Oros, and on the other hand, Duncan was caught between wanting to return to Haruko and wanting to do some generic manly thing so she wouldn’t be disappointed in him. The mountain awaited them all, but it wasn’t as if it would disappear the next day either. With only three Awakened back in camp now, the ‘defenses’ present felt less and less secure. Shun was flighty, no one knew what Rin’s thought process was, and Masato didn’t have any ‘real’ powers outside of his body.
And yet, despite all this, they continued on, conversation fading away as they powered through the wilderness. Forced to go along with Asahi’s pace, being the slowest but most sharp-minded individual in the party, the group navigated through the roots and the dense foliage, their shoes leaving imprints upon the dark soil. There was a musky, earthy scent in the air now, coupled by the sounds of strange animals too distant and distorted to tell the direction of. On occasion, one of the trio had to climb up a tree in order to reorientate the groups direction, keeping an eye on that fang-like mountain in the distance, but while their surroundings continued to take on a gloomier atmosphere…nothing attacked them.
They were alone, indeed, within this forest. Left alone by whatever creatures dwelled within, as they continued to advance for an hour unimpeded, stopping only when a sweet smell entered the air.
Only when ‘forwards’ was blocked not by a wall, but a dense, yellow fog that smelled of honey and daisies.
Monsters based off of mutated animals were understandable. The Otherside had simultaneously popularized and made taboo such topics, after all. But what on earth was this? Was it safe to breathe? Should they advance, when they would be entirely blinded by it? Was this another monster, or was this a phenomenon of weather in an alien world?
He couldn’t feel his arm.
It was as if tree roots had sunk into his veins, an unnatural stiffness that originated from within rather than without. Consciousness had returned, but he could hardly open his eyes, such was his exhaustion. What had happened? What was still happening? Dissociated memories flickered in and out. Flashes of red, and the phantasm of a liquid warmth. A burden upon his shoulders alongside the pressure in his lower back. Eyes, burning late into the night like a bulb that never turned off. There was student debt. Mortgages. Medical expenses. There was violence and alienation, the knife clinging to his skin, the fingers clawing at his wrist. And the stench. The stench of bodily fluids that clung to his robes, that were still clinging to his robes, as he remained awake and conscious, upon a hard bed, his senses so far gone that he was left only with his thoughts.
His thoughts, repeating the way that firm flesh turned soft and distended. The way that organs burst and spilled their contents outwards. Those eyes, looking at nothing when it ended. His blood boiling out of his wounds, as muscles contracted and the world turned brighter and brighter. He swallowed. Tried to swallow, but gagged instead. Motion was restored in that moment, sparked by reflex rather than by will, as Cassius turned over, fell off the bed he had been placed upon, and, as he registered the sharp, throbbing pain of impact, threw up.
No food splattered against the wooden flooring of the clinic. Only bile and water, a sticky, bitter saliva that clung to the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth.
He tried to push himself up, but one arm was paralyzed while the other was still too unused to movement. Lightheadedness struck next and he fell back onto the floor, cheek falling against the expelled sick. Footsteps sounded. He could hear, at least. Swallowed again and forced himself to croak out a single question.
“What happened with the package?”
Six years.
He hadn’t even started learning about everything before six years ago. Had ran headlong since, carried by a voracity and a compulsion. Six years, for the one whose life burned quick in exchange for the one whose life smouldered long into the night. There were plenty of questions Otis had to ask, after all. A great lifespan, even one obtained at the expense of another, was simply a boon for the powerful in this world. If he was not aware of the sheer lack of essence in Rekordia, he’d have suspected Chloe to possess some connection with the immortal Clockwork Empress that ruled his homeland.
He had plenty of questions, but the Strigidae held them back this time around. Instead, with a gaze that possessed the same sort of youthful self-assuredness that Chloe had, Otis said perhaps the only thing that mattered to him in all this.
“Six years is plenty. If no one else can, I’ll find a way.”
Wingram was undoubtedly a place brimming with idiots and incompetents, with stupid fools who sought only the aesthetics of heroism and military dominance. But amidst the boneheaded buffoonery that manifested when teenagers with too much power gathered, there looked to be plenty of projects for him to work upon. Enough so, even, that Otis suspected he’d need to start taking proper, physical notes soon enough.
But that, of course, will come later. For now, however, the Door opened up once more and he offered Chloe a shoulder to lean on. Banged up as she was, she’d probably leave too big a mess if he re-orientated gravity to simply drop her out. And with that, Otis pulled her out to the clinic, waving at the first nurse to spy the strange pair.
“She was attacked by our instructor during class, as can be seen from the burns. After that, during lunch, she was attacked by an Ethos-wielding monster in the form of a wolf, which caused the cuts. Could you help her out of her clothes and give them to me?”
The clinic and the secret was one thing; he wasn’t going to renege on his statement to fix up her dress because of this.
@NanayaQuick question. Are elves naturally long-lived? Like, in the centuries for regular lifespan?
I'll get one up tonight then.
Amanda?
Who was Amanda?
Ah, did it even matter, when things were clearly going all the way down the shitter?
“I’m not looking for trouble here.” Estelle called out to the dryads. “This is strictly community safety work!”
Which was all nice to say, but GEMINI reputation was pretty bad, especially when Finn was now having a proper duel of fates with the bartender, his chainsaw rip-roaring to add to the cacophony of a violent brawl. Only one thing to do then.
From her belt, she snapped out her collapsible baton, tossing it over to the jukebox-leaner who had just lost her Shield. At the same time, her Melody resounded, bright light emanating from her foot to blast away the roots that bound her there, just in time for Estelle to be in a position to counter the first cowboy that rushed at her. In the swirl of chaos, the bottle-wielding man was as mundane as his brothers and her hand chopped out. The blow was strong enough to send the bottle flying out of his grasp, and the Witch Hunter followed through by striking that bottle with the flat of her sheathed Dai-Katana.
With just enough force that it wouldn’t shatter, the spinning bottle was redirected towards the other mundane biker close to the jukebox, smacking him in the shoulder and hopefully distracting him long enough that…
“Get to the kitchen you girls! You can’t find Amanda if you’re caught up in this mess!”
…the teenagers could get out before her boons wore off.
As for the Witch Hunter though?
She would stand her ground, serving as a rear guard until the last of the girls made it to the back of the kitchen. Hopefully even through the emergency exit.
Do I have the freedom to write out the whole fight, or is this a named NPC/monster encounter kinda situation?
Also, forgot to ask, but what was the selection of Esfir's digestible skills from her last meal?
Also, forgot to ask, but what was the selection of Esfir's digestible skills from her last meal?
Just do an update for me and Thousand while the ladies work their shit out.
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