Theorization begins.
Someone speaks. This is more than just a format for presenting info isn't it?
Someone speaks. This is more than just a format for presenting info isn't it?
Yukitamas Member
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Player Name: Yukitamas
Family Age: X
Mystic Code Quality: X
Mystic Code Quantity: X
Magical Crest Age: X
Magical Crest Quality: X
Magic Circuit Quality: X
Magic Circuit Quantity: X
Elemental Affinity: X
Magical Experience: X
Magical Talent: X
Magical Paradigm: Opera dei Pupi
Player Name: Yukitamas
Family Age: X
Mystic Code Quality: X
Mystic Code Quantity: X
Magical Crest Age: X
Magical Crest Quality: X
Magic Circuit Quality: X
Magic Circuit Quantity: X
Elemental Affinity: X
Magical Experience: X
Magical Talent: X
Magical Paradigm: Opera dei Pupi
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat
A number of things came together, aware and yet not, regardless... His body moved. If it was his brother maybe he'd call it the guidance or will of god. Archer would simply turn his nose up at that. This was the talent he had, the path he could walk because he was him. Thanking someone else for that made his gut twist. But still, he he couldn't deny that even with the theft of the first blessing, the favor of his father still filled his spirit and body.
In this battle he showed his pride and his truth. Where Berserker's mind raced, bestial instinct refined slowly by the edge of a hunt. Archer considered his attack and then lost himself to the flow. How similar, how different. For a enemy like Berserker he paradoxically didn’t need to think. An enemy with overwhelming power, with inhuman power that man needed wit and the divine to compete with. He held both, and yet instinct fought with instinct. It was an instinct gained from becoming a beast against the instinct of a man born as a hunter.
Shifting so Lancer and Berserker got in each others ways, blows colliding between kick and punch, while his own fist bashed into the wolf's face. A light hit, but more importantly Archer's fist didn't pull back. He grabbed at Berserker, pulling him in, struggling and exerting himself to grab the raging servant into submission. Berserker was stronger, but the man born red was the king of the land, whose descendants became the king of the world. His own gifts, his way of life and sin, coming together with the hope and gift of his father.
Berserker was overwhelming. But so were Archer and Lancer.
Berserker was pulled off his feet as Archer fought to hold him, and batter him with strikes. Archer shifted in correspondence with the propelled bricks, forcing Berserker into their path, pinning him between his own fist and Lancer’s strikes.
“When you made this into a wild attack this became something different from a duel you know. You should know well, interruptions build upon interruptions. A hard-fought victory over a meal soon becomes a humiliated escape from a brand new predator that waltzes by and decides to butt in. But keep your eyes on me, just like that. Yeah, you know who to look at. You’ll know who to fear.”
Both his hands grabbed at Berserker as he smiled, even as he risked exposure to those powerful blows in doing His master’s blow was coming, so he’d have to answer in kind.
Berserker flew, thrown by Archer, with the aim and power befitting his class and identity. Hound and Owl took flight, and the violet and yet welcoming collision of two lights was akin to a game of the gods from long ago.
”...He’s tough, he’s fun. What class do you reckon he is? Rider? Berserker? But whoo, that’s something yourself, master. I won’t have to coddle you too much, won’t I? Good.”
A number of things came together, aware and yet not, regardless... His body moved. If it was his brother maybe he'd call it the guidance or will of god. Archer would simply turn his nose up at that. This was the talent he had, the path he could walk because he was him. Thanking someone else for that made his gut twist. But still, he he couldn't deny that even with the theft of the first blessing, the favor of his father still filled his spirit and body.
In this battle he showed his pride and his truth. Where Berserker's mind raced, bestial instinct refined slowly by the edge of a hunt. Archer considered his attack and then lost himself to the flow. How similar, how different. For a enemy like Berserker he paradoxically didn’t need to think. An enemy with overwhelming power, with inhuman power that man needed wit and the divine to compete with. He held both, and yet instinct fought with instinct. It was an instinct gained from becoming a beast against the instinct of a man born as a hunter.
Shifting so Lancer and Berserker got in each others ways, blows colliding between kick and punch, while his own fist bashed into the wolf's face. A light hit, but more importantly Archer's fist didn't pull back. He grabbed at Berserker, pulling him in, struggling and exerting himself to grab the raging servant into submission. Berserker was stronger, but the man born red was the king of the land, whose descendants became the king of the world. His own gifts, his way of life and sin, coming together with the hope and gift of his father.
Berserker was overwhelming. But so were Archer and Lancer.
Berserker was pulled off his feet as Archer fought to hold him, and batter him with strikes. Archer shifted in correspondence with the propelled bricks, forcing Berserker into their path, pinning him between his own fist and Lancer’s strikes.
“When you made this into a wild attack this became something different from a duel you know. You should know well, interruptions build upon interruptions. A hard-fought victory over a meal soon becomes a humiliated escape from a brand new predator that waltzes by and decides to butt in. But keep your eyes on me, just like that. Yeah, you know who to look at. You’ll know who to fear.”
Both his hands grabbed at Berserker as he smiled, even as he risked exposure to those powerful blows in doing His master’s blow was coming, so he’d have to answer in kind.
Berserker flew, thrown by Archer, with the aim and power befitting his class and identity. Hound and Owl took flight, and the violet and yet welcoming collision of two lights was akin to a game of the gods from long ago.
”...He’s tough, he’s fun. What class do you reckon he is? Rider? Berserker? But whoo, that’s something yourself, master. I won’t have to coddle you too much, won’t I? Good.”
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat
“"It's a good thing to have a big mouth don't you know? If you can't measure up to how wide it is with talk or enough food to shove it up, it just shows that you're not as strong as you should be. Isn’t that natural?”
The statement came with a matter of fact air, distant from the arrogant words of self-affirmation and praise that had set off Berserker in the first place. A simple, almost childish and bestial logic. “Besides it’s better to be able to eat faster so you can enjoy more quicker. When you’re busy and in danger you can eat quicker so you can move on too. Having a big mouth is good!”
The declaration of Berserker and his raw palpable hostility however brought him back to his readied stance. Excitement and consideration coarsed through Archer as he locked gazes with his new foe.
“Hm, eyes however. You’ve got a point.”
The power of Berserker exceeded even Archer in his current state grasping for supremacy. But that was a given and a truth known to a hunter like him. So he didn’t clash, not directly anyway. He was faster, he was stronger. But step in here and thrust out your hand so and bring to him defeat!
He weaved low, away from the blow while his own fist held itself up like a shield, grinding against the side of Berserker’s fang as it pushed against the inside of his arm to redirect the blow.
“You’ve got good eyes, I like them. It’s more of a bite than your teeth. I’ll cut them away and show them off as my first trophy.”
He didn’t back away. In fact Archer advanced, a step forward grinding into the ground and taking him even closer to the wolf. One didn’t fight a beast head on, fist on fist. But that didn’t mean a hunter couldn’t advance or push ahead against them. To get caught in his fangs was dangerous, even if he had the confidence to get out or even turn it on him. But underestimating a being like this was foolish, and even if he couldn’t see through the tricks that his brother would be able to present when it came to a hunt he was as serious. His gut told him that this was a foe he couldn’t cautiously parse overtime.
“Hraaaaah!”
A jab, light by his standards, yet bristling with enough power for even the mighty hero to take note of as a proper blow flew towards Berserker’s neck while with a extra burst of activity he tried to unbalance him with a shove of Berserker’s extended arm away to throw it to the side.Entrap him, narrow his movements and take his measure. That was the usual tactic for preying on great beasts and men but… This guy would come at him in a full measure of power. So he had to put him on the back foot.
A punch led to a lash coming out from knee. He retreated with a flinging of his head like a skull-formed mace before slipping to Berserker's side, adamantly refusing to back down from him, then advanced again with a flurry of blows. Mixing it up without much of a pattern and thought, simply going with what felt right with the position of his body. Predictable and yet in its smooth flow, the anticipatory movements that struck on a whim managed to fit within the frame of his plan. He circled Berserker, trying to wear down at him and shift their role as aggressor and defender.
“"It's a good thing to have a big mouth don't you know? If you can't measure up to how wide it is with talk or enough food to shove it up, it just shows that you're not as strong as you should be. Isn’t that natural?”
The statement came with a matter of fact air, distant from the arrogant words of self-affirmation and praise that had set off Berserker in the first place. A simple, almost childish and bestial logic. “Besides it’s better to be able to eat faster so you can enjoy more quicker. When you’re busy and in danger you can eat quicker so you can move on too. Having a big mouth is good!”
The declaration of Berserker and his raw palpable hostility however brought him back to his readied stance. Excitement and consideration coarsed through Archer as he locked gazes with his new foe.
“Hm, eyes however. You’ve got a point.”
The power of Berserker exceeded even Archer in his current state grasping for supremacy. But that was a given and a truth known to a hunter like him. So he didn’t clash, not directly anyway. He was faster, he was stronger. But step in here and thrust out your hand so and bring to him defeat!
He weaved low, away from the blow while his own fist held itself up like a shield, grinding against the side of Berserker’s fang as it pushed against the inside of his arm to redirect the blow.
“You’ve got good eyes, I like them. It’s more of a bite than your teeth. I’ll cut them away and show them off as my first trophy.”
He didn’t back away. In fact Archer advanced, a step forward grinding into the ground and taking him even closer to the wolf. One didn’t fight a beast head on, fist on fist. But that didn’t mean a hunter couldn’t advance or push ahead against them. To get caught in his fangs was dangerous, even if he had the confidence to get out or even turn it on him. But underestimating a being like this was foolish, and even if he couldn’t see through the tricks that his brother would be able to present when it came to a hunt he was as serious. His gut told him that this was a foe he couldn’t cautiously parse overtime.
“Hraaaaah!”
A jab, light by his standards, yet bristling with enough power for even the mighty hero to take note of as a proper blow flew towards Berserker’s neck while with a extra burst of activity he tried to unbalance him with a shove of Berserker’s extended arm away to throw it to the side.Entrap him, narrow his movements and take his measure. That was the usual tactic for preying on great beasts and men but… This guy would come at him in a full measure of power. So he had to put him on the back foot.
A punch led to a lash coming out from knee. He retreated with a flinging of his head like a skull-formed mace before slipping to Berserker's side, adamantly refusing to back down from him, then advanced again with a flurry of blows. Mixing it up without much of a pattern and thought, simply going with what felt right with the position of his body. Predictable and yet in its smooth flow, the anticipatory movements that struck on a whim managed to fit within the frame of his plan. He circled Berserker, trying to wear down at him and shift their role as aggressor and defender.
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat
“!”
He wasn’t about to be denied. He wasn’t about to be shown up.
So he decided to direct his aggression elsewhere. Lancer’s breaking away wasn’t contested… if anything.
Archer charged forth, letting out a spirited cry as he unleashed his own barrage of fists on the flying metal. The power of the intruding third servant was immense. But there was no way it could stand up to two legends. The fists of Archer and the frame of Lancer’s weapon halted the flight of the car.. Then it began to shatter, then it flew back in a cloud of razor sharp chunk and dust that buffeted the Berserker in a gust.
“You’re pretty strong too, aren’t you. Too bad, I’m still stronger.” The comment was directed to both, but he turned to Lancer with his growing smile. He spoke, both to his foe, and to his master. Physically and mentally he offered a proposal.
“Let’s fight. I want to see what you can do.”
He nodded his head at the third party’s direction. “A battle to show that I’m stronger than you. We can compete by seeing whose fists beat him down better. Works for us doesn’t it?”
An alliance, and yet not. It was a competition and an invitation both to ally and foe.
“Regardless… I’m not gonna wait around.”
He charged, fists lashing out at Berserker.
How he’d move, how Archer should move. Both were felt and even if he was overwhelming in power…
Well, it wasn’t like he was out of reach.
“Now you smell like a beast. But do I gotta beat the truth out of you?”
Red Archer
Las Vegas Strip - Man of Beast
“!”
He wasn’t about to be denied. He wasn’t about to be shown up.
So he decided to direct his aggression elsewhere. Lancer’s breaking away wasn’t contested… if anything.
Archer charged forth, letting out a spirited cry as he unleashed his own barrage of fists on the flying metal. The power of the intruding third servant was immense. But there was no way it could stand up to two legends. The fists of Archer and the frame of Lancer’s weapon halted the flight of the car.. Then it began to shatter, then it flew back in a cloud of razor sharp chunk and dust that buffeted the Berserker in a gust.
“You’re pretty strong too, aren’t you. Too bad, I’m still stronger.” The comment was directed to both, but he turned to Lancer with his growing smile. He spoke, both to his foe, and to his master. Physically and mentally he offered a proposal.
“Let’s fight. I want to see what you can do.”
He nodded his head at the third party’s direction. “A battle to show that I’m stronger than you. We can compete by seeing whose fists beat him down better. Works for us doesn’t it?”
An alliance, and yet not. It was a competition and an invitation both to ally and foe.
“Regardless… I’m not gonna wait around.”
He charged, fists lashing out at Berserker.
How he’d move, how Archer should move. Both were felt and even if he was overwhelming in power…
Well, it wasn’t like he was out of reach.
“Now you smell like a beast. But do I gotta beat the truth out of you?”
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon
He weaved around the first, then smashed apart the second with his fist. Archer was about to dive in, snarling like the beasts he hunts. But-
He stopped, foot grinding into the dirt. He lifted his arms up crossing them and leaping back. But the bench struck him, and despite his block and movements away from it, he still flew forth, crashing into the structure aimed for.
“You’ve got a lotta power. But we both know there’s more. So, what class are you anyway? WIth that sorta gaze and that strength you can’t be a Berserker. Are you a Knight Class too?”
Tilting his head for a crack of his neck as he climbed out of the rubble that ripped holes through the interior of the building like bullets. He walked out with a grin. The amount of damage he took was less than his foe, although it wasn't as small as he'd have hoped. Really, it was scary that a full on direct hit from his fist could be compared at all. This man could keep up, more than that. Perhaps he was even better at using his body as a weapon in martial arts than Archer, on top of that prodigious strength.
But.
“Or should I ask those fists some more?”
If Lancer had an ability of perception and the channel of his brain that allowed him to follow what was acted with a greater ability than any other. Then it could only be a tool to react to that which is occurring. Powerful as it was it was one that was always on the backpedal in comparison to Archer's ability to feel actions before they happened. Knowing what to do to best strike at his foe and trust in the perception of his body was without a doubt a superior sense that bridged the gap between their strength and Lancer's edge when it came to martial arts.
But what if Archer could close the gap between their strengths?
A fight to prove himself as the greatest, a battle to establish himself and prove the worth of his existence. Esau, the man born with a mighty body, who lauded in his strengths and drank of the pleasures of the earth. He dyed in red.
It was only in such a fight that he reached his full potential.
He launched himself forth, unleashing a barrage of strikes at Lancer's face. Now their blows were equal. The change in power melded with the guiding of his instinct and now he struck, slamming a fist into the side of Lancer.
"If this war has just another like you then it's a rebirth and sabbath more than worth it. But I have no intent of just keeping up with you. The strongest winner in this war.. is me!"
Red Archer
Las Vegas Strip - Fists and Men [3]
He weaved around the first, then smashed apart the second with his fist. Archer was about to dive in, snarling like the beasts he hunts. But-
He stopped, foot grinding into the dirt. He lifted his arms up crossing them and leaping back. But the bench struck him, and despite his block and movements away from it, he still flew forth, crashing into the structure aimed for.
“You’ve got a lotta power. But we both know there’s more. So, what class are you anyway? WIth that sorta gaze and that strength you can’t be a Berserker. Are you a Knight Class too?”
Tilting his head for a crack of his neck as he climbed out of the rubble that ripped holes through the interior of the building like bullets. He walked out with a grin. The amount of damage he took was less than his foe, although it wasn't as small as he'd have hoped. Really, it was scary that a full on direct hit from his fist could be compared at all. This man could keep up, more than that. Perhaps he was even better at using his body as a weapon in martial arts than Archer, on top of that prodigious strength.
But.
“Or should I ask those fists some more?”
If Lancer had an ability of perception and the channel of his brain that allowed him to follow what was acted with a greater ability than any other. Then it could only be a tool to react to that which is occurring. Powerful as it was it was one that was always on the backpedal in comparison to Archer's ability to feel actions before they happened. Knowing what to do to best strike at his foe and trust in the perception of his body was without a doubt a superior sense that bridged the gap between their strength and Lancer's edge when it came to martial arts.
But what if Archer could close the gap between their strengths?
A fight to prove himself as the greatest, a battle to establish himself and prove the worth of his existence. Esau, the man born with a mighty body, who lauded in his strengths and drank of the pleasures of the earth. He dyed in red.
It was only in such a fight that he reached his full potential.
He launched himself forth, unleashing a barrage of strikes at Lancer's face. Now their blows were equal. The change in power melded with the guiding of his instinct and now he struck, slamming a fist into the side of Lancer.
"If this war has just another like you then it's a rebirth and sabbath more than worth it. But I have no intent of just keeping up with you. The strongest winner in this war.. is me!"
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon
He felt the other servant's body creak and break under his fist. But he still stood. Of course, of course. He wouldn't be a worthy opponent if he was too hobbled by one blow. A good hit, a damaging hit, but hardly crippling.
In his senses Archer was superior. But as they warned him to break away, Archer letting out a grunt as he broke off his grasp and shifted to blunt the strike of the knee, backing away and also bringing his own feet up to push away at the side of his leg to redirect the blow. The knee skirted the side of Archer, not striking directly, half gliding off at speeds no normal mortal could follow. Pain blared as despite it being a glancing blow...
Ah, he was stronger. In terms of physical power and the weight behind his blow, Lancer was much stronger. But it was ok. He wouldn't lose.
"Now that's something." he cooed, quite clearly impressed. "But all it takes is one ill aimed hit and the frail will go flying. But not that you care, right? Of course you don't care, it's hardly important. What matters is yourself. Not what you're born into, not what people say you're tied to. Your strength, your own talents, your own wants. Isn't that what we should chase instead of rules we never agreed to?"
That said he didn't mind moving to another location for other reasons.
"Still... let's go."
He broke away, first at a slow pace that wasn't all that odd for a human, but he began to accelerate, more and more as he rushed through the streets and crowds of the lit Las Vegas, exiting the strip. His fists flew and exchanged with Lancer when he followed, and weaving and striking, the two sent cracks through walls in passing, blew craters into the streets from their footwork and broke glass with the force of their redirected and parried fists.
Such a clash was enough to work up a sweat as a warm up.
But now they could go all out.
As the two entered a park, they broke the streets and ripped apart the small pockets of green that pleased the locals in the desert. But it was when they entered a playing ground that Archer made his first notable move. retreating near a swing, he swept at it with his palm to send it flying towards Lancer's face while he himself followed through on the motion, bringing his arm back in a elbow strike towards his foe's center.
Red Archer
Las Vegas Strip - Fists and Men [2]
He felt the other servant's body creak and break under his fist. But he still stood. Of course, of course. He wouldn't be a worthy opponent if he was too hobbled by one blow. A good hit, a damaging hit, but hardly crippling.
In his senses Archer was superior. But as they warned him to break away, Archer letting out a grunt as he broke off his grasp and shifted to blunt the strike of the knee, backing away and also bringing his own feet up to push away at the side of his leg to redirect the blow. The knee skirted the side of Archer, not striking directly, half gliding off at speeds no normal mortal could follow. Pain blared as despite it being a glancing blow...
Ah, he was stronger. In terms of physical power and the weight behind his blow, Lancer was much stronger. But it was ok. He wouldn't lose.
"Now that's something." he cooed, quite clearly impressed. "But all it takes is one ill aimed hit and the frail will go flying. But not that you care, right? Of course you don't care, it's hardly important. What matters is yourself. Not what you're born into, not what people say you're tied to. Your strength, your own talents, your own wants. Isn't that what we should chase instead of rules we never agreed to?"
That said he didn't mind moving to another location for other reasons.
"Still... let's go."
He broke away, first at a slow pace that wasn't all that odd for a human, but he began to accelerate, more and more as he rushed through the streets and crowds of the lit Las Vegas, exiting the strip. His fists flew and exchanged with Lancer when he followed, and weaving and striking, the two sent cracks through walls in passing, blew craters into the streets from their footwork and broke glass with the force of their redirected and parried fists.
Such a clash was enough to work up a sweat as a warm up.
But now they could go all out.
Movement
Las Vegas Strip -> Spring Valley Community Park.
Las Vegas Strip -> Spring Valley Community Park.
As the two entered a park, they broke the streets and ripped apart the small pockets of green that pleased the locals in the desert. But it was when they entered a playing ground that Archer made his first notable move. retreating near a swing, he swept at it with his palm to send it flying towards Lancer's face while he himself followed through on the motion, bringing his arm back in a elbow strike towards his foe's center.
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon
“Oh, here they come.”
He felt it, he knew it. It was coming.
"That the master there? What do you think of him?" He asked Ahmicqui over their link as Lancer disrobed. The display and action brought a quirk of Archer's brow, but he simply took it in stride as he spared a moment to look over the older man that held a certain poise and backbone that was evident to the eye. Still, he was old, and more than that he felt old. It was a different kind of age, of a man in comparison to an ancient when he looked at the two masters in comparison. Not that his master was as old as some he had met in in life whether beast or "man" mind.
Still his attention was primarily on his "equal", the man he sought to prove himself mightier than. The primordial man shifted as Lancer moved, yet despite the intent and power that came at him his grin did not falter. "You're pretty fast! A wrestler too... well, it's funny."
The punch swung into empty air as Archer shifted, twisting his body and holding out his elbow while clenching his fist against his hip so as to allow it to sail into the empty gap. His grin only grew as he closed it off, wrapping around and squeezing down on Lancer’s wrist. The predicted strike was both negated and countered in a single response as he moved to pin down and invite Lancer into the grapple he so wanted, the red man’s hand grasping Lancer’s elbow and giving him a tug back to force the Lancer off his footing and pulling him into Archer’s space.
“I’m not my brother who likes to drag people down by their ankles, but I’ve beat down a lot of beasts myself.”
Archer’s right hand swung out in a punch, aiming for his chest, aiming for the breast that was exposed by his pinned arm and position.
Good.
Blood
His Red flowed and rushed, his skin danced with lightning and his instinct was loud and clear about this servant. He was strong, this would be a good fight. This was not a battle between two wild beasts, but rather men surrounded by them. Men of the earth, men of savage civilization. Nation and King clashed with their fists. A keen eye against a keen sense.
“Come on, show me what you’ve got!”
“Oh, here they come.”
He felt it, he knew it. It was coming.
"That the master there? What do you think of him?" He asked Ahmicqui over their link as Lancer disrobed. The display and action brought a quirk of Archer's brow, but he simply took it in stride as he spared a moment to look over the older man that held a certain poise and backbone that was evident to the eye. Still, he was old, and more than that he felt old. It was a different kind of age, of a man in comparison to an ancient when he looked at the two masters in comparison. Not that his master was as old as some he had met in in life whether beast or "man" mind.
Still his attention was primarily on his "equal", the man he sought to prove himself mightier than. The primordial man shifted as Lancer moved, yet despite the intent and power that came at him his grin did not falter. "You're pretty fast! A wrestler too... well, it's funny."
The punch swung into empty air as Archer shifted, twisting his body and holding out his elbow while clenching his fist against his hip so as to allow it to sail into the empty gap. His grin only grew as he closed it off, wrapping around and squeezing down on Lancer’s wrist. The predicted strike was both negated and countered in a single response as he moved to pin down and invite Lancer into the grapple he so wanted, the red man’s hand grasping Lancer’s elbow and giving him a tug back to force the Lancer off his footing and pulling him into Archer’s space.
“I’m not my brother who likes to drag people down by their ankles, but I’ve beat down a lot of beasts myself.”
Archer’s right hand swung out in a punch, aiming for his chest, aiming for the breast that was exposed by his pinned arm and position.
Good.
Blood
His Red flowed and rushed, his skin danced with lightning and his instinct was loud and clear about this servant. He was strong, this would be a good fight. This was not a battle between two wild beasts, but rather men surrounded by them. Men of the earth, men of savage civilization. Nation and King clashed with their fists. A keen eye against a keen sense.
“Come on, show me what you’ve got!”
@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon
“Oh, here they come.”
Really, sure they weren’t hiding themselves. But it was rude, timid for them to not make a show of themselves. To Archer it clicked. This wasn’t a rival, not yet anyway. This was prey.
Half the drink was gone by the time Archer rose to his feet. Walking against the crowd, people parting in the wake of the massive man. He made a show of himself, raising a fist into the air. A guts pose, a clenched arm showing off his body and declaring a victory.
“Hey, there. You’ve come to fight, right?”
Appearing before the two he was without a doubt a servant. Holding no weapon, and surprisingly relaxed, filled with openings. Confidence and power. Clearly itching for a fight and yet not in a stance prepared for one. Despite all that he was obviously eyeing Lancer head to toe. A wild glint evaluated him like a beast on the hunt, and yet his eyes wandered to the space around them as well.
Really, what was up with this guy?
"Because I've been waiting. Let's go, huh?"
Red Archer
Las Vegas Strip - Coming Closer
“Oh, here they come.”
Really, sure they weren’t hiding themselves. But it was rude, timid for them to not make a show of themselves. To Archer it clicked. This wasn’t a rival, not yet anyway. This was prey.
Half the drink was gone by the time Archer rose to his feet. Walking against the crowd, people parting in the wake of the massive man. He made a show of himself, raising a fist into the air. A guts pose, a clenched arm showing off his body and declaring a victory.
“Hey, there. You’ve come to fight, right?”
Appearing before the two he was without a doubt a servant. Holding no weapon, and surprisingly relaxed, filled with openings. Confidence and power. Clearly itching for a fight and yet not in a stance prepared for one. Despite all that he was obviously eyeing Lancer head to toe. A wild glint evaluated him like a beast on the hunt, and yet his eyes wandered to the space around them as well.
Really, what was up with this guy?
"Because I've been waiting. Let's go, huh?"
@Kala @red alice
“They’re taking a while aren’t they? Well, we need something to go with that drink… Ah, but isn’t that a bit off model now?” He snickered, both at the joke, and also at the current state of the tower. “But hmm.. If there’s anything to add.. Well, you’ve shown me the modern, how about I show you something in return?”
The eyes of Archer found themselves trailing the various birds that took flight in the strip. Normally such a thing was hardly abnormal but..
Something about them felt off, something about them felt right.
He flicked a fallen chip at one of them. The powerful flat-circle smashed into the side of its face, rattling its brain and stunning it to bring it to the ground. Measured power to not demolish its structure and preserve its body for harvest.
With a grin he swiftly pounced, looking more like a beast in the form of a man as he chased down his prey. Even as he moved his hand flicked out, grabbing what he could to pelt down a number of other similar birds. Soon enough, he had managed to collect a full roster of pidgeons. Totting them in one hand as he returned. The whirlwind of motion he left in his wake was one that was hardly subtle, but he managed to surprisingly not bowl the many people around or destroy anything. Still, subtle was not really the word for what he was being and if the two didn’t have any glances before, the crowds that could firmly get a look at the pidgeon-hunting man bringing forth his spoils surely were keeping an eye on them by now.
“Hey, master. There’s something up with these so I dunno if you want to eat them? Oh me however? Again, nothing to it. It’s not as bad as some dirty water even. Well, maybe it's a poor gift but whatever it's what we got. It's what we eat."
Water flowed, and so did people. The blood that pulsed through life drove the body, and likewise the rivers that ran across the lands were the gathering points for civilization and beasts both. At bodies of water did order congregate, natural or societal. In a sense it was order and reason, and in that flow, held art as well.
But what Archer brought, setting it up on the table of all things, managing to have enough leaves and plucked up discarded wrappings, tickets and paper goods, was fodder and tinder for a roasting fire. A nail running across the bald patch showed that he needed no real knife. With his bare hands he twisted, pulled, sliced and skinned it.
All in all, they soon began to sizzle and roast. Put on the fire, impaled by sticks he deemed clean enough, whistling without a care of the stares around him or the pollen that had latched onto them.
“Hmm, I don’t think this is something common to this area however. Especially a bunch like these? I dunno if modern humans could handle this. I don’t know what’d happen but something would. Something is here.. Some sort of plant stuff. Maybe they’d be turned into plants too, or maybe they’ll die.. Or maybe they’ll be sneezing for the next few days nonstop?”
He speculated as he took one off the fire. As he spoke of death he began to put some ketchup leftover from their first meal of the night, those burgers on.
“Ah well, maybe it’s one of the other masters or something? Nice of them to offer a snack but they should come out already… Or are they saying that they haven’t seen me?”
His cheeks lifted, his eyes narrowed. The first hint of dark aggression, of annoyance and… perhaps something more flashing on Archer’s face.
And then he shoved an entire roasted bird into his mouth.
“Ah. Yep, it works pretty well. This ketchup is pretty handy, really!... Mhm. If no one comes in a bit we'll open up that cup. Maybe I'll start shooting and make a mess. Sometimes you need to start a fire in the forest to get the herds running out. We'll just shoot anything that might be a hideaway. If it's a matter of destroying just a room in a... what're they called? Hotels? Leave it to me.
Red Archer
Las Vegas Strip - The Hunt For Fun [2]
“They’re taking a while aren’t they? Well, we need something to go with that drink… Ah, but isn’t that a bit off model now?” He snickered, both at the joke, and also at the current state of the tower. “But hmm.. If there’s anything to add.. Well, you’ve shown me the modern, how about I show you something in return?”
The eyes of Archer found themselves trailing the various birds that took flight in the strip. Normally such a thing was hardly abnormal but..
Something about them felt off, something about them felt right.
He flicked a fallen chip at one of them. The powerful flat-circle smashed into the side of its face, rattling its brain and stunning it to bring it to the ground. Measured power to not demolish its structure and preserve its body for harvest.
With a grin he swiftly pounced, looking more like a beast in the form of a man as he chased down his prey. Even as he moved his hand flicked out, grabbing what he could to pelt down a number of other similar birds. Soon enough, he had managed to collect a full roster of pidgeons. Totting them in one hand as he returned. The whirlwind of motion he left in his wake was one that was hardly subtle, but he managed to surprisingly not bowl the many people around or destroy anything. Still, subtle was not really the word for what he was being and if the two didn’t have any glances before, the crowds that could firmly get a look at the pidgeon-hunting man bringing forth his spoils surely were keeping an eye on them by now.
“Hey, master. There’s something up with these so I dunno if you want to eat them? Oh me however? Again, nothing to it. It’s not as bad as some dirty water even. Well, maybe it's a poor gift but whatever it's what we got. It's what we eat."
Water flowed, and so did people. The blood that pulsed through life drove the body, and likewise the rivers that ran across the lands were the gathering points for civilization and beasts both. At bodies of water did order congregate, natural or societal. In a sense it was order and reason, and in that flow, held art as well.
But what Archer brought, setting it up on the table of all things, managing to have enough leaves and plucked up discarded wrappings, tickets and paper goods, was fodder and tinder for a roasting fire. A nail running across the bald patch showed that he needed no real knife. With his bare hands he twisted, pulled, sliced and skinned it.
All in all, they soon began to sizzle and roast. Put on the fire, impaled by sticks he deemed clean enough, whistling without a care of the stares around him or the pollen that had latched onto them.
“Hmm, I don’t think this is something common to this area however. Especially a bunch like these? I dunno if modern humans could handle this. I don’t know what’d happen but something would. Something is here.. Some sort of plant stuff. Maybe they’d be turned into plants too, or maybe they’ll die.. Or maybe they’ll be sneezing for the next few days nonstop?”
He speculated as he took one off the fire. As he spoke of death he began to put some ketchup leftover from their first meal of the night, those burgers on.
“Ah well, maybe it’s one of the other masters or something? Nice of them to offer a snack but they should come out already… Or are they saying that they haven’t seen me?”
His cheeks lifted, his eyes narrowed. The first hint of dark aggression, of annoyance and… perhaps something more flashing on Archer’s face.
And then he shoved an entire roasted bird into his mouth.
“Ah. Yep, it works pretty well. This ketchup is pretty handy, really!... Mhm. If no one comes in a bit we'll open up that cup. Maybe I'll start shooting and make a mess. Sometimes you need to start a fire in the forest to get the herds running out. We'll just shoot anything that might be a hideaway. If it's a matter of destroying just a room in a... what're they called? Hotels? Leave it to me.
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