[center][img]https://i.gyazo.com/31440370545d06cd672ff25309222dde.png[/img]
[h3][color=ed1c24]Jonas Highwind[/color][/h3]
Basin Brawlers
[@Krayzikk][@Altered Tundra][@Rockette][/center]

[color=ed1c24]Steel bites deep into abyssal flesh, my foe either neglecting to or not having the ability to turn either sword away. Below me a steady chug heralds a stream of sustained fire— a substantial portion of it literal.

Well, Rhea got half her wish. Bekah's definitely having fun. As for me—

Nothing about the resistance I feel suggests much more toughness than the usual beast of this size. He isn't even particularly well-muscled, let alone encased in some armor or carapace beneath that murky haze. Fruitful. It means I can hack him to bits if I so desire, and that the ignited buckshot his midsection's being filled with ought to do much the same.

That said, gravity's still constant. I can't hang around forever in the air unless I get real creative, and "Shadow" isn't a foe that calls for such. I continue lashing out on my way down, drawing one, two, three lines of silver across my enemy's perforated midsection. All of them cut through sinew beneath shadow as they should, moving from clavicle, to chest, to abdomen in the brief instants between each discharge of 00 Buckshot. By now, I've fallen to about the level she's been aiming at as she circles the ink-colored monstrosity with dizzying speed, three full laps made and counting— a bad spot to be for anyone.

I plant my feet in his stomach as the Athenian's strides place her directly behind me.

Anyone else.

Rebekah Fell knows she has no need to release the trigger— I can handle myself with a fifth of a second to make a decision. She, more than anyone, knows all too well.

I kick off, sailing clear over the tight spread of fiery pellets with the force I've imparted— just in time for my own projectiles to complete their long arc downward. I was beginning to wonder if I'd somehow fucked up that opening salvo. I land, and note that my foe appears to be listing forward from all the work I've done trimming him down. Oh, that meant this next part would be pretty fun.

Three arrows cut through the young night sky at an almost vertical angle, and crash upon the thing's head with thunderous report. While not the bolts from the blue carried by the king of Olympus himself, the force equivalent of a trio of 40mm grenades is something nothing on this Earth can ignore.

The figure drops to his knees as I dash in. As an amalgamation of those dogs from before, it only stands to reason that he shares some of their regenerative ability— And with the night so low, a creature of shadow has much to draw from. Further scattering his head should prove insurance—

I don't get the chance. In a burst of motion, he wrenches his arms skyward, directly swatting away at my incoming form. Tizona and Colada cross to meet it, saving me from real harm, but I'm still knocked off my feet. Not ideal. Could be worse.

[color=black]"This is all the children of Gods have to show?"[/color] he snarls, loosing waves of tendril, tail, and onyx-colored spike. [color=black]"Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."[/color]

"Well, not really." 

I frown in midair, batting away strikes with the twin blades of El Cid as they come until I have a moment to dismiss them altogether. It's unfortunate, but it looks like I do have to give 'Shadow' this much credit: he doesn't seem to be quite so swayed by preternaturally terrifying weaponry. I'll have to come up with something else. Something to leave a more lasting impression on that pitch colored giant.

[i]Giant...[/i]

Moreover, he seems mostly recovered from what we've thrown at him— at the very least, enough to put up this much of a fight. I hold no doubt in my mind I can kill him. I have stared down worse than this, and intend to do so many more times in my life. He is nothing that I can't eventually cut down to size... but considering the others, that may take time I don't have.

My feet find the earth again, and am greeted with something that challenges my sense of reality. A creaking, keening groan assaults my ears from behind the misshapen beast, like that of a splitting ship— Or indeed splitting dimensions.

A tear in reality has formed behind my foe. Even with the nigh-unparalleled acuity of vision I possess, I see nothing but blackness within. A rift into endless and starless night. What the hell is that?

A voice I have not heard crest a whisper until now answers my unspoken questioning.

[color=9b948d]"Force it into the void,"[/color] the Daughter of Nyx cries, stepping forward with newfound steel. [color=9b948d]"Let it be lost, forever."[/color]

[i]You don't say...[/i]

Force a being of shadow within a world of shadow, and what boundary does it have? Where does one draw the distinction between it and the rest? So long as she can close that gash in space, the concept was simple and straightforward enough. A Daughter of Darkness like her ought to be able to stop what she started just as easily— and just as I know my way around combat, I'd expect her to know her way around a foe like this, too.

"Understood, Boss."

But now I've gone and disarmed myself, haven't I? Let's fix that.

I search once again within the annals of my mind. I had an inkling of an idea earlier that, just as luck would have it, lines up perfectly with the new task at hand. If arming swords aren't up to snuff, then I needed something bigger. I needed something that wouldn't just cut well. My goal isn't to force something without real blood to bleed out.

I need to knock this guy around a little.

I need weight.

I need something scaled properly for fighting things larger than man...

Like a Giant.

I don't know much about this one, but I settle upon it. It has all the important qualities I need right now. I can swing it. It's massive. It's in a weight class well above that of human foes.

My right hand closes around not a proper horn or wood grip, but practically just a tang wrapped in white cloth. So old and improperly understood that this is what I ended up with, huh? Goes to show what just hearing a brief blurb about something would get you. I need to study up after this. Might shatter after the second swing if I'm not lucky.

Then again, I'd say I'm not lucky if I need to swing this more than once. And it's just as well that the grip has worn to nearly nothing— I doubt I could get my hand around it otherwise.

I grit my teeth and lift, bringing the blade longer than I am tall to bear. It holds a single, straight edge, faded blotches of random runes running down its fuller. The back of the blade tapers down to meet the edge in a point for somewhere between a third to a quarter of its length. The metal, I assume, is steel— and plenty of it. Multiple hundreds of pounds.

Out of anyone here, only I'm going to be swinging something this ridiculous around. Dallas is absolutely liable to rib me about it later.

The thing roars again and lashes out, well aware of the plan. He knows that, all at once, the situation has changed. His position is much more precarious. Enemy could be growing desperate, then. Will do everything in his power to avoid that rift, assumedly making the same conclusion as I.

Eh, let him rib me. I have work to do.

I dash forward. I am, by simple nature of physics, slower than before. I'd have to really push myself if I wanted to match my previous "blink of an eye" speed lugging this thing around— but "slower" and "slow" are separate terms.

The shadowy tendrils are back, and I count a half-dozen moving to intercept my advance. Normally I'd just knock them aside or chop them off so they could swipe at me no more.

A spike rushes past my cheekbone, a hair's breadth from breaking skin. I duck fully beneath another swipe, and sidestep past a third thrust.

But I content myself with dodging as I chew up the distance between us in the span of two seconds. I can't spare any of this old poem's tenuous grasp on the mortal world with small morsels like this. With such fragmentary knowledge, I can't guarantee its stability. It's an old tale from Germany, far more obscure to me than those of the Volsung or Nibelungenlied: This is Eckeseax.

The [i]blade[/i] of a Giant. 

I get inside range. Sorry for being such a slippery bastard, really, but I'm not here to be fair about it. You kind of interrupted the party we've meticulously plotted under the noses of all the staff.

I step in deep. Starting from the ground up, feet legs, hips, torso, and arms become one massively powerful kinetic chain. I exceed any man that has ever drawn breath in the past six hundred years, all to deliver a singular, smashing strike against the interloper's center of gravity. All of my strength carrying all of that weight with all of that speed— I am bound to force him back.

No matter how little I know of Ecke or the man who stole the seax from him before me, I know the one thing that matters for this fight.

There's not a damn thing that walks the Earth that shrugs off me hitting it with a quarter-ton of steel.
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