|
Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 1, 2010 12:06:58 GMT -5
Sunday the 15th 10:56 pmAbout the history of Yoon Mangjeol there wasn’t much to be said. This, of course, did not mean her life story was either simple or boring; only that it was a subject which she preferred to keep secret. She considered this an obvious tactic and had always been surprised by both the audacity and the sheer stupidity of those who had offered her money in exchange for information about herself. Short-term greed had to yield to long-term safety, and Yoon wondered whether the people making such ludicrous bids would stay alive long enough to understand that. To be certain, however, Yoon Mangjeol was the only subject on which Yoon Mangjeol held her silence. Any other topic was fair game, and she was nothing less than elated to uncover whatever knowledge she could and make it available to her inquiring public – for a profit. The morality or otherwise of her job was of no concern to her. After all there were worse roles to fulfill in the underbelly of Winstone City than that of an information broker. She straightened up in her seat and idly twirled her empty glass upon its edge to signal that she was unoccupied. She recognized the wiry figure who had just walked into the bar, and Yoon had a fairly good idea that she was the person he had come to see. Sure enough, the man nodded at the barkeeper and moved toward Yoon’s booth as soon as he had noticed her. Nico was a familiar client, the one most often sent to visit Yoon when the Giarrettiera family was looking for answers. A shame; Yoon preferred Massimo, whom she found much easier to talk to. Then again, at least the Don wasn’t in the habit of sending Cesare. There was no productive discussion to be had with that one. She bowed her head deferentially as the youngest brother reached her table. “Mr. Giarrettiera,” she said. “Miss Mangjeol.” “Surely one may hazard a guess as to the reason for your visit?” Nico sat opposite her and cast an appraising eye over the others in the bar. “Feel free. Pinot nero,” he added in a very slightly louder voice to answer the barkeeper’s glance. “Well then,” said Yoon. “You’d like to know who hired those men who attacked at d’Arcangel’s yesterday evening. Now. Nothing definitive has come down to me yet. But I’ve been provided with a considerable stream of possible leads, which of course I’ll be happy to share with you after we’ve…” She trailed off. Nico was holding up a single index finger in dismissal. “I haven’t come to purchase information. Thank you,” he said as a dark-haired young waitress brought the wine to his table. He waited until she had retreated, giving him a small smile over her shoulder, before he continued. “I’m here to sell.” “Oh? How interesting.” Yoon couldn’t remember Nico ever freely submitting information like this. She usually had to settle in for a tiresome bout of haggling whenever she was hoping to extract even the slightest confidence from him. “Please, go on. Is it about the attack?” “First we discuss payment.” “Of course.” That was a little more like it. “And how much would you estimate to be the worth of this piece of intelligence, Mr. Giarrettiera?” Nico scratched his cheek. “For now… free of charge.” Yoon blinked. Nico went on. “Later on, after you’ve begun circulating this information, I will return, and we’ll agree on a price based on the value it’s shown you. Consider this an investment on my part.” The weathered woman, uncharacteristically, did not respond at once. Instead she looked at Nico Giarrettiera warily for a moment. “This… is most unusual, Mr. Giarrettiera.” “I’m aware.” Yoon paused again, the more delicately to choose her next words. “One must confess some – faint notion that you may be here not on the authority of your brother, but as an individual agent.” She shouldn’t have expected a reply to that. Nico was gazing at the long line of green and black bottles behind the counter and gave every impression of not having heard her. “Well? May I hear it?” Nico’s eyes fell back upon her at once. “Does the name ‘Terrian Brogue’ mean anything to you?” Yoon consulted her acute memory, but no connection formed. “I don’t believe so, no.” The youngest Giarrettiera brother drew a folded-up slip of paper from the interior of his jacket. Unfolded, it revealed a photocopy of an official-looking document on which was printed a photograph of a man who looked about Nico’s age, perhaps slightly younger. He seemed to be laughing. Of the rest of the document Yoon could make no sense; more of the text was numbers than words. “My brothers and I are fairly certain he lives in this area of the Archipelago,” Nico said. “And we have reason to believe that Terrian Brogue is running a proficient counterfeiting operation.” Yoon looked up quickly from the paper to Nico’s face. “Is that true?” “We have reason to believe it.” The woman settled back, smiling. “Well, well,” she said. “Now that is intriguing. Mr. Giarrettiera, allow me to say that I’m truly delighted to hear this.” Nico nodded without returning the smile. “Of course.” “A counterfeiter. Yes, there’s something really constructive! And you say we’ll discuss the price later?” “At a convenient time. Within this week, however, I would prefer.” “That’s fine. Perfectly fine.” Yoon tried to inspect the document further, but Nico was already folding it up and tucking it back into his jacket. “Thank you very much, Mr. Giarrettiera. And give my regards to the Don, won’t you? Or, no, I suppose you’re not going to tell him about—” But Nico had already left the booth. Yoon watched him place some money on the counter for the wine he had barely touched. Then, without a backward glance, he departed. Yoon Mangjeol sighed, reached for the bottle, and poured herself a swallow. Compliments of the Giarrettiera family. Then she set her empty glass back on the table, rested her chin on one hand, and began twirling the glass, around and around, on its edge. The smile found its way back to her lips. ISHKABIBBLE SCENE TWO Mandelbrot Considers It Poor Form to Leave Certain Threads Dangling Thursday the 19th 2:13 amThe original color of the walls and ceiling in this room was hard to place. They might once have been a greenish shade of gray, or a faded brown hue. There wasn’t enough light to tell, nor to discern the sources of the blemishes that crept up, sprawled across and cascaded down every available square inch. Some appeared to be water stains. Most did not. Even along the ceiling, there were patches of dark coloration that didn’t really look like water stains at all. A dull gray sink was propped up on one wall underneath a dusted-over mirror. Opposite these, several pairs of rungs were nailed into the wall, as if to support wooden boards for a bookshelf, but neither boards nor books were anywhere to be seen. There was, at least, a small television in one corner, amid a scattering of boxes and pieces of paper. The thinly veiled window wouldn’t have admitted any breeze into the apartment even if it had been open. In the black morning hour outside, the air was very still.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 1, 2010 15:18:17 GMT -5
Lucas sat naked in his living room, the Mounling blade newly named Soulmourne propped up against his chair. He looked across the room at Scar, whom Lucas was now starting to resemble. A new collection of scars, cuts, gashes, and bruises covered nearly every inch of his frame. Just wearing clothing hurt, let alone moving. Despite their being obviously roughed up, however, the room held a heavy air of dark determination. Any normal mortal who walked into the room would quickly have their consciousness overwhelmed by the pair's intense desire to kill.
"Well, obviously that didn't go well," Lucas said. "We shall have to start tracking them down, one by one, to find out who has the bloody Reiki."
Scar only gave a short nod, which Lucas found unsurprising.
"Well, do you want to go after the twin and his bitch first?" Lucas asked, pulling his sword out of the floorboards. Soulmourne made a soft, low tone ringing. It was a sad sound, and Lucas smiled to hear it. He could feel the souls inside it, in mourning.
"Or do you want to go after that son of a bitch Prime? God knows after that last bout, I'd like to sink this sword into him, deep enough to hear his sweet moans of death." Lucas chuckled. His excitement was beginning to fill the room. It was palpable.
Soulmourne glowed with a soft, violet light, suddenly casting the room in dark hues. "Oh, do you think it agrees with me?" Lucas asked, still laughing.
He stopped suddenly. "Well?"
|
|
|
Post by Kuroboom on Jan 1, 2010 21:39:28 GMT -5
Scar grimaced. "I'd like to go after Prime and that woman he was with. I can't let them live after what they did." Like Lucas, Scar was sporting a fresh array of wounds, though they blended in with his skin far better than Lucas'. "Plus, Prime seems the type to want the Reiki. I'd be willing to wager he took the damn thing."
He was sprawled out on Lucas' grimy couch looking at the grimy ceiling. It seemed like yesterday he was stuck here while recovering from his fight with Eragon.
"I don't really care who we fight after that, I just want their blood as payment for my injuries."
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 5, 2010 15:48:23 GMT -5
Lucas nodded. "Well, Prime should be the easiest one to track. And considering that rather unique ability of his, it would make sense for him to have the Reiki."
Lucas walked over to the window, scowling, deep in thought. The peaceful world outside made no real difference to him; he couldn't recognize the beauty in nature anymore, he'd gone too far. He took a deep breath, then turned back to Scar. "We're most likely to find the bastard in Whelkshore, bloody place, but I'm not sure where we would find Helen. I believe that she's a summoner, which would generally indicate the southern sphere of the planet, but their exact location isn't exactly well-known."
Lucas started pacing thoughtfully, glancing every now and again at the bag of tricks in his coat. He knew he could get anywhere he could name, but he didn't really have a choice where he showed up there. And showing up smack in the middle of a group of supernatural powers wasn't the best idea in the world.
They'd learned that in abundance just recently.
Lucas rammed his sword into the wall, letting it rest there, and went to check his jacket pockets. He pulled out another healing signet that he'd picked up, just in case Scar went overboard again. Really it was a miracle he'd gotten him to retreat from Prime and his little cohort. He also pulled out his little sphere of flesh, which when dropped became a fleshy tunnel to other places. He bounced it in his palm thoughtfully, and slipped the Serpent Talisman in his pants pocket.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 20:29:35 GMT -5
Knock knock.
From the ratty door came a rather unassuming knock. Neither of the two inside made a move for the door.
Knock knock.
A second set of knocks. Slightly louder than the first set, but they didn't sound impatient or forceful.
After a slight pause, it sounded as though a key was being inserted into the lock. Another pause.
Thump click.
The door knob turned and the door popped open. Whoever had been holding the outside of the door was careful not to let it swing open, instead holding it ever so slightly ajar. A silhouette was clearly pressed up against the wood, peering into the small opening it had made. When the person outside realized that someone inside was watching, they slowly opened the door.
White latex gloves covered the hand holding the tail end of a key in the knob. Nearby a small hammer hovered, held by another carefully gloved hand. As the door swung open, it soon became obvious that the gloved hands were connected to a person wearing a clean, pressed labcoat. Who was wearing the coat was another question.
The owner of the coat had no face, or at least it seemed that way at first. Its head was covered by a white fabric tight enough to hint that there was a face underneath it, but not tight enough to reveal the features moving. Or maybe the face beneath was not moving at all. On the person's forehead was a symmetric bulbous black spot with multiple tendrils coming out.
"Oh. You two are here," Mandelbrot said in a distant, monotonous voice. It put the hammer and the bump key inside its coat. It looked around, noting the dried blood. "I like what you've done with the place."
It gently closed the door. As the two were about to stand up, the intruder held out a hand. "Please, don't get up. I am here to just ask some questions."
Near the door was a rickety looking wooden chair. Mandelbrot pulled it out and set it down right in front of the dripping sink, back facing the two tenants. It straddled the chair and nonchalantly crossed its arms on the backrest.
"Now. By casual observation, you must be Scar," Mandelbrot gestured towards the more scarred man, then to the other man, "and, by process of elimination, you must be Lucas.
"I have been tracking you two for a few days now. Considering the trail of carnage you left behind, you would think it would be easy, but surprisingly not. I suppose it has to do with everyone so much as seeing you winding up dead." Mandelbrot shrugged.
"Also another surprise for such prominent murders, I could find virtually no files on either of you, save for the police reports.” Mandelbrot reached into its coat and pulled out some papers. It quickly dismounted the chair, spun it approximately 180 degrees, and sat down again. Before continuing, Mandelbrot crossed its legs. “In the past few days, fourteen dead at d'Arcangel's.” Mandelbrot flipped through some sheets. “Three critical condition street muggings, multiple reports of gunshots at various places in the city, one attempted rape, and thirty-seven bloody murders at Hotel Ansonia. All unsolved thus far.
“These all seem unconnected, so I presume they are, save for the d'Arcangel's and Ansonia case. Unknown fingerprints and questionable DNA found at both scenes. Both unnecessarily bloody. Also, I may have personally overheard your voices during those two events.
“Now that I have bored you,” Mandelbrot continued monotonously, uncrossing its legs and placing the papers on the corner of the sink, “with the details of how I came to be here, I would like to know what exactly brought you two here. Did someone hire you?” It leaned forward. “Someone must be covering for you two because these killings are so sloppy.”
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 5, 2010 20:45:03 GMT -5
"No, that's mostly his fault," Lucas said, his thumb pointing out Scar in a smooth gesture.
"His killings are meant to be sloppy. We aren't assassins, or murderers. We're warriors in the truest sense, we live and thrive only on conflict. Our reason to be here is merely to evoke conflict," Lucas said calmly, pulling his sword, Soulmourne, out of the wall. Its cry of soft Mourning rang out through the room, betraying the presence of the souls of those slain in the recent incident. Lucas smiled coldly.
"Reiki," Lucas said. "It holds what could be loosely termed the power of awakening."
He walked slowly across the room, putting his hand on Scar's shoulder. "I assume you understand the possibility here, of what might happen if Scar's power and madness were fully awakened, and then amplified by the weapon?" Lucas asked.
"Now, are there any other questions?" Lucas asked, feeling Scar shivering in anticipation below his hand. "My companion is having quite a time, you see, resisting the urge to plunge his blade into you." Lucas spoke sweetly, giving this invader the smile one usually saves for a lover.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 21:59:29 GMT -5
Mandelbrot turned its head to follow Lucas. There was a slight motion under the mask as Lucas pulled out his crying sword. Cheeks and brows moved ever so slightly upward. Mandelbrot turned its head to follow Lucas crossing the room again.
"Powers. I thought so." Mandelbrot's voice was a couple notes higher than usual, but still monotonous. "Those are so much more exciting. So much more pride than the average contract killer. They don't even flinch when a masked person walks into their hideaway."
Mandelbrot reached into its coat and pulled out a long, perfectly reflective knife. It didn't hold it threateningly, instead examining it carefully, before suddenly stabbing it behind the sink.
"Anyway, yes, I do have more questions," Mandelbrot said, voice back to 'normal'. "I've never heard of this, what did you call it, Re... rake... reiki? That sounds about right. I've neither read nor heard of such an artifact, besides, of course, what you tell me of its amplification abilities." Mandelbrot took out a small notebook and pen from its coat and jotted down some notes. "Tell me more about it. I assume Winstone has something to do with its location? Or you just decided to have some fun while passing by?"
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 6, 2010 2:23:28 GMT -5
"Winstone was merely where it was, it has little to do with its origin or abilities," Lucas said. "Honestly speaking, I'm not sure why it was there at all, perhaps for an auction of some kind, I don't really know." He shrugged, tapping his blade on the floor slightly. A slight bead of frost appeared on the ground, and Lucas paused for a moment before continuing. "As for its abilities, it's as I said, all right. To learn more than that, one of power must wield the sword. It only responds to those with strength, and a hidden nature," Lucas explained calmly, with a slight tinge of impatience in his voice.
This calm person was indeed quite interesting, seemingly completely unconcerned for his safety. It really was rather confusing - even such a prominent figure as Zebedee or the late Ender would have had more caution around the two. Lucas sighed, then looked the person in his eye space, searching. The man was more concerned with information than anything else, it seemed, though that didn't matter much to Lucas.
This person should already know that trusting either of them was foolish. Whether Lucas appeared lazily compliant or not, all of his information would have to be verified: this person couldn't trust Lucas to voice the truth.
"Why don't we make this a game," Lucas suggested. "If you can keep your entrails inside you for three full minutes, I will answer one question with complete honesty. The longer you live, the more questions you get to ask, the more answers you get. And eventually, we get to kill you." Lucas smiled darkly. "That way, everyone walks away happy."
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 6, 2010 2:42:59 GMT -5
Mandelbrot noted the frost on the floor before acknowledging the words.
"Oh, but Lucas, I came here to kill you," Mandelbrot said, in an almost offhanded tone. It crossed its arms and legs again, leaning back nonchalantly, then continued in its same androgynous monotone. "You see, I love blood just as much as you two. The only difference is that I'd much rather use my hobby to make the world a better place. Namely, getting rid of Powers that think they are allowed to toy with the lives of humans.
"I accept your deal on the condition that I only fight one of you at a time. I doubt either of you want to share, anyway. You first, Lucas."
With that, Mandelbrot quickly stood up, spinning around the chair and kicking it at Lucas. Without waiting for the chair to be deflected, the killer took the hammer out of its coat and used it to drive the knife farther into the wall. It stood there, hammer in hand, waiting for the inevitable strike.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 6, 2010 3:44:41 GMT -5
"Are you mentally deficient?" Lucas asked, honestly surprised. "You walk into the home of two warriors who condone chaos as their livelihood, and you have the gall to demand one-on-one combat?" Lucas started laughing. "I didn't say 'if you won', I said 'for every three minutes you live'. But in the end, you are going to die. Now I can say nothing for my friend Scar here, but I will gladly start things off," Lucas said, ignoring the chair as it impacted against his blade. Waste of energy.
A spike of deep violet ice erupted from the floor between Mandelbrot's feet, branching out into a small tree of destruction. Lucas laughed madly as he watched Mandelbrot react, though occasionally flinching from the pain his wounds caused him. In all honesty, he could hardly move as it was, and Scar wasn't in any better shape.
He honestly wasn't sure who would win here - Mandelbrot certainly had enough balls, perhaps he had serious power to back up that confidence. If that was the case, Scar and Lucas were fucked either way.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 7, 2010 0:35:34 GMT -5
OOC: Guys, although I really love what you're doing so far, please try not to carry it too far without Kuroboom. That'd be bad, m'kay? Because absent characters are bad, m'kay? OOC: Choobeh hasn't posted because we both commented on that last night, we're waiting on Kuro before we go any further. Honestly it was better to have Lucas get all the talking out of the way, if Scar had calmly sat and explained that, it would have been seriously out of character for him. And honestly, I like Scar the way he is. The boards don't have enough evil raging psychopaths. OOC: Will post tonight or tomorrow. Going through a bit of a rough patch atm OOC: If you need someone to talk to, I'm almost always online.
|
|
|
Post by Kuroboom on Jan 7, 2010 18:52:50 GMT -5
If the intruder had surprised Scar at all, he didn't show it. He would have killed him as soon as he began tinkering with their door, but he was comfortable where he was and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. It did that from time to time, like the time he met Lucas and didn't kill him.
Lucas talked on and on as Scar became increasingly bored and the intruder droned on in his dull voice. Scar was losing interest; this new toy wasn't as interesting as the packaging had led him to believe. His ears perked up when Lucas mentioned the Reiki, but it went out like a light as the conversation droned on. Scar was content to let Lucas have his say; he owed him that much for the times Lucas had stopped him from fighting to death.
"Why don't we make this a game," Lucas suggested. "If you can keep your entrails inside you for three full minutes, I will answer one question with complete honesty." Scar's eyes lit up like Christmas--he lived for these moments. However, the light was quickly extinguished as Mandelbrot only wanted to fight them one-on-one. As much as Scar loved to fight, his bizarre sense of ethics denied him from engaging the man in white until Lucas gave up or died. He sat up with a frown and summoned Magnum Killer into an outstretched hand. Rotating his wrist, he positioned his scarred blade perpendicular to the floor and stabbed the tip in and began MORE waiting.
In his head, Scar was imagining amusing things to do to Mandelbrot before he killed him. The best one he came up with was to cut off all of the man's limbs and tourniquet them so he wouldn't bleed out. Then he'd take that mask off, cut Mandelbrot's face off with a knife, and then wear it as a mask so Mandelbrot could see it before Scar lodged the knife into his dome. Then again, he could just blow him up...
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 7, 2010 21:42:55 GMT -5
Mandelbrot jumped to the side as the tree of ice sprouted underneath it. So Lucas' power is not instant ice. This is why I like having done research. Before Mandelbrot pursued that line of thought, it decided that getting away from the magical ice was a better plan.
The killer gave the sink a solid hit with its hammer. The knife, still sunken into the wall behind it, had provided a large enough crack in the back that the sink completely broke off the wall. Mandelbrot gave it another sound whack, calmly caught its falling knife, and let the stained porcelain basin fall on the tree of ice. The killer then proceeded to sidestep away, keeping the two targets in sight and making sure to stay out of the expanding puddle of water. It stepped near the television, elbowing it so that it fell over and broke.
"Yes. Yes I am broken mentally, actually. Thank you for asking. I don't care for any more information, I just want to stab someone," Mandelbrot said, voice still emotionless despite having to maneuver out of the way of an attack.
The killer observed that its target was still sitting down. Fresh wounds. Moving must be difficult, or mildly irritating at the least. Against any normal person, the best course of action would be to stay defensive, let them attack, take advantage of their pain and their arrogance. Let them make the first mistake, then savor their death.
Even against a Power, this was the best course of action. Stay defensive, let them make a mistake, even if they could lob attacks that were almost unreadable. Eventually they would get impatient. These two seemed hotblooded enough. By the way Scar fidgeted, Mandelbrot figured that he might even jump up and attack, breaking the deal. He looked positively injured as well. So be it.
Mandelbrot didn't feel fear. It didn't feel impatience. It had all the time in the world.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 8, 2010 2:45:55 GMT -5
Lucas smiled, gesturing at the mess in front of him and Scar. "I'm not technically attacking anymore, you know, it's just a mess of hungry souls. You'll be in just as much danger if you get up," Lucas said.
The ice froze the water from the sink as it spread across the floor, and suddenly ethereal violet hands burst from the ice, extending, reaching for Mandelbrot. There was the sound of hundreds of souls screaming, as they reached for the nearest life and tried to rip it apart, make it one of them.
Lucas just laughed, untouched, though given how the sink water was spreading, Scar would have to move soon. Unless he wanted to be caught in the attack as well. "Foolish choices, very foolish. If a man can create ice from nothing, do you really think adding water will hinder him?" Lucas chuckled again. "God, you shouldn't think so highly of yourself."
A hand burst through the floor, through a frozen waste pipe, reaching for Mandelbrot's leg.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 8, 2010 3:37:09 GMT -5
"Well, no, I don't think water will hinder you. But I haven't done my research, and it needs to be done sometime," Mandelbrot said distantly.
Mandelbrot took three steps backwards, putting the TV between it and the reaching hand. The killer smashed the TV and knocked it into the frozen hand. The cheap TV had no grounding tine. Electricity arced from inside the broken screen into the hand. This wasn't a silly attempt to electrocute anyone, although since magic was so unpredictable, if Lucas did happen to get a shock, that would be nice. Instead, this was Experiment Two, the effects of raised temperature and kinetic impact on the magic ice.
Experiment One had mixed results. Mandelbrot had hypothesized that Lucas would uncontrollably freeze the water, but it seemed as though he was completely in control of when and how the ice would form. However, more information could be inferred. The screams indicated that the attacks were powered by passed spirits, or something of that nature, and this was backed by the attacker flat out saying 'hungry souls.' The hands wildly reaching about for Scar but not Lucas indicated that the attacks were not 100% under Lucas' control.
Soul-powered ice. Lack of movements of incantations. The screams. Either Lucas was very well versed in the arcane arts, or he was using an artifact to focus through. Evidence pointed toward the latter. A wild attack as was happening now was more consistent with artifact use; users of these objects were more asking souls to do something as opposed to commanding them. Also, Lucas had shown a fair amount of self-restraint, if a little impatience. More importantly, he had also shown a degree of respect towards Scar. A man like that would not attack wildly if he had the ability to attack precisely.
The sword had made noises when Lucas pulled it out of the wall. That was probably artifact in question. Mandelbrot mentally flipped through all the various documents and stories regarding such weapons. Nothing important came to mind.
Mandelbrot stepped farther away from the water. It noted the scattered papers and boxes, considered setting them on fire to raise ambient temperature as a simultaneous experiment, but then decided that would create too much collateral damage. It was also bad science to conduct two tests at once, even if they were trying to prove the same thing.
However, it did seem prudent to end this fight quicker than not, as Lucas had control of all the piping in the walls. Mandelbrot put its hammer back into its coat then pulled out a tranquilizer gun. Experiment Three, effects of horse tranquilizers on spellcaster. Mandelbrot pointed the gun at Lucas and shot.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 8, 2010 5:12:49 GMT -5
The TV harmlessly passed through the arm, and froze over when it hit the ice. The arm transferred to the TV, gaining more vertical reach as it gasped for Mandelbrot. Lucas yawned, then his sword was a blur. There was a sudden sharp sound of metal on metal, and a dull thud as a dart impacted the ground.
"All right, enough is enough, and Scar is getting impatient," Lucas said, his brow furrowing. The arms started grasping each other, and then spreading out. Over the walls, the floor, ceiling, everywhere. Soon they were all walking in them, regardless of desire.
"These will drain the energy of your mind and soul - you too, Scar," Lucas said. "I'm not one to disrespect a friend, but all the same, given our current state I can hardly allow an unknown attacker any unknown advantage." Lucas leaned over to whisper in Scar's ear: "This will also serve the dual effect of numbing your body, probably make it easier to fight. Have at it, this guy isn't very interesting anyway," Lucas whispered, and walked back to his chair.
He sat down with a luxurious sigh. "Right, I'm done, have fun Mandelbrot. And please, try to keep your carcass inside the apartment. I'd rather this place remained off the radar," Lucas said, with a slight smile.
He reclined the chair, and proceeded to ignore Mandelbrot. He much preferred causing women to suffer, anyway.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 8, 2010 18:47:37 GMT -5
Experiment two again had mixed results. Lucas didn't have to readjust the spell, and it looked as though the hands were barely affected by tangible objects. They just provided a place to be rooted in. Experiment three just showed that Lucas could still move faster than a human despite his injuries.
Mandelbrot let out a bored, monotonous chuckle as the hands started spreading. It was quiet, under its breath. Mandelbrot had locked its mind away a long time before it even got into this room; taking it would be harder than just having a room full of restless souls reaching for it.
The soul on the other hand, could be a problem. Souls were notoriously hard to protect without proper preparation. Mandelbrot shivered ever so slightly. Ah. It was a slow working attack. It could be ignored if this engagement was kept quick. The killer put its gun back inside its labcoat, pausing to rub its chest as the ethereal cold crept in. Before it continued, it pulled out a polished silver coin and flipped it. The killer eyed the reflective object as it ascended and descended, then promptly caught it and placed it back in its coat. The shivers quickly subsided to a general numbness.
Without another word, Mandelbrot rushed forward at Scar, ignoring the hands as they grasped at its pant legs. It eyed the sword. A twitch. Mandelbrot jumped to the side preemptively, whether Scar attacked or not, and rolled through. It sprang up and spun around, took two side steps towards Lucas and attempted to kick out the legs of his chair. Lucas wasn't the only one who could be indirect about attacking. Technicalities.
Mandelbrot didn't care if Lucas could regain his balance or not. It didn't wait and stepped away from Lucas again and rushed at Scar once more, attempting to stab him in the eye. With its off hand, it simultaneously made a slapping move at what appeared to be his most recent injury.
|
|
|
Post by Kuroboom on Jan 8, 2010 22:00:07 GMT -5
It was his turn. FINALLY. Scar got up and streeeeetched, and by the time he had finished, Mandelbrot was lunging at him with a knife aimed at his face. "Tch!" Scar's free hand grabbed for the wrist of the attacker while the other reached for Magnum Killer. An electric sensation pulsed through his body, causing him to laugh at the attacker as fresh blood oozed from under some of his wrappings.
"You're too god damned calm!" he yelled as he attempted to hook Mandelbrot's leg and sweep him off his feet. "You should try enjoying this kinda shit!" Regardless of whether Mandelbrot was able to maintain his footing, Scar swung his large blade single-handedly toward the intruder. Not that a swing from such a short distance would do terrible damage, but Scar intended to use his jagged blade to saw into the flesh of Mandelbrot.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 9, 2010 1:34:23 GMT -5
Mandelbrot maneuvered its attacking hand such that Scar couldn't get a good grasp of it. Instead of getting stuck in a grapple, Mandelbrot's attack was merely pushed away harmlessly. While concentrating on avoiding that attack, however, the killer was caught unaware in the leg. It fell straight onto its back, landing with a heavy thud.
As the sword came down, the killer rolled to the side, unable to feel the shivers in its souls as the ethereal hands grabbed for it. As soon as it deemed itself at a safe distance, Mandelbrot kicked up, picking up enough momentum to roll onto its feet. It stumbled as it got up.
The labcoat's left shoulder had been torn and a red spot was quickly expanding underneath it. Mandelbrot touched the wound and looked at the blood on its gloved hand. It pondered the sight for a moment then wiped the blood on its mask in the shape of a smile.
"Oh, I am enjoying this. Don't worry," Mandelbrot said in its even monotone. The edges of the bloody smile faded to white surprisingly fast as it was absorbed into the fabric.
With that, Mandelbrot pressed the attack once more. It rushed forward, knife held behind in a position ready to slash. The killer fully expected Scar to slash its oversized sword now that he had it in his hand. He was the type to cause as much damage as possible, and the best way for him to do that would be to use his sword. Therefore, it kept its eyes on the sword, watching for the slash so that it could dodge under or to the side and slash back.
|
|
|
Post by Kuroboom on Jan 9, 2010 8:47:09 GMT -5
Mandelbrot evaded Scar's grasp, but he couldn't evade the kick or the sawing of Magnum Killer. Mandelbrot confessed his enjoyment in the fight, but Scar couldn't express the same sentiment. Scar was tired of this clown. This guy had been interesting enough to start with, but he wasn't a very entertaining fight. He reminded Scar of a small dog that nips at people's ankles and when you kick him away the damn thing just keeps coming back and doing it again. He held Magnum Killer straight out in front of him and his blade glowed yellow. Mandelbrot charged forward to attack, but his form screamed that he was ready to defend himself from Scar's blade. " Good luck," thought Scar as he fired his blast at the intruder. OOC: I used this attack in Because It's Interesting on Eragon but Prime missed the line and it was ignored. Basically, he's shooting a blast of energy at you from the blade. Here's a picture of a Mad Banzai Bill sprite thing I edited to fit better.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 9, 2010 12:41:12 GMT -5
Mandelbrot paused as the sword began glowing. Energy attacks. The killer backpedaled slowly and waited for the swing or whatever cue fired the blast. There. It leapt to the side. The blast nicked its arm, singeing the coat, but thankfully, as a labcoat, it was resilient to actually being set on fire.
The attack careened into a wall, exploding harshly as it did so. The fire alarm started going off and the sprinkler system engaged. That seemed to be warning enough for the apartment's other tenants to get moving.
Mandelbrot reached into its coat and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of glowsticks. It cracked them in half, but instead of glowing, they stayed a dull yellow. It then threw them at Scar. They would explode on impact. Hopefully this would be a good enough distraction such that Mandelbrot could rush in and make another stab.
|
|
|
Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 9, 2010 15:55:11 GMT -5
OOC: Had to auto the outcome of Mandelbrot's attack, sorry.
"Anyone want to bet on their room number?" Davidson asked, eliciting a few hollow chuckles.
He and his six subordinate officers stood at the foot of the staircase, gazing up the flights of steps to the dark skylight at the top. Under the glaring flourescent light, no one seemed to be treading outside their apartments to investigate the source of the hideous wailing noise that seeped down from the fourth floor. On the other hand, not many people at all seemed to be dwelling in this apartment building at the moment. According to Inspector Davidson's research, the place was doing very bad business this past fiscal year. Not surprising, if this establishment was playing host to the tenants he expected to find.
With their guns at the ready, adorned with bulletproof vests and masks, they slowly ascended the staircase. Honestly there wasn't much use trying to minimize their noise, given the sound cover. But Davidson wasn't going to take any chances. He had to budget for the possibility that the men they were after had sharper senses than the average human being. After all, these two men weren't the average human being. That much had already been made clear.
On the fourth floor, they quietly passed doors by until they'd reached the obvious center of the noise. When all seven of them were gathered around the door, Davidson silently nodded, then reared back and kicked it. Already splintered here and there, the door gave way and swung inward to reveal the scene inside.
There were three figures inside the room. One was dressed in a torn labcoat, with white fabric stretched over their face. In one latex-gloved hand, this figure held a knife which resembled an overly long surgical scalpel. They had just thrown something at the second man, who had buckled under a pair of small explosions. This one was tall, gaunt, and heavily scarred, with some injuries that looked fresher than others, and was carrying a massive blade. The third man, completely naked, grungy-haired, was reclining on a chair in the corner; a smaller, darker sword rested on the floor alongside his legs.
If these three were nightmarish, though, the state of the putrid room was outright hellish. A glassy formation shaped like a tree, with an unearthly purple hue, had sprouted in the center of the floor. This glassy material -- ice? -- was extending like roots across the floor, up the walls and even to the ceiling, and a broken television and disembodied sink basin were suspended half-covered in the stuff. And all throughout the room where this violet ice had spread, jagged hands were reaching out, clawing jerkily at the combatants.
The three figures in the room weren't wailing.
Apparently that sound was coming from the hands in the ice.
A few of the officers fell back, swearing in horror. Davidson held his ground, but his lips had pulled back in revulsion, and it was another second before he was able to lift his gun and shout "Freeze! Police! You're under arrest!"
His comment was a little broader than it needed to be, considering that he had no idea who the figure in the labcoat was. Yet there was no mistaking the scarred man and the grungy-haired man. Davidson's eyewitness accounts were confirmed. These were the two responsible for the bloodbath at d'Arcangel's.
He inched forward, trying not to step near the icy, screaming hands. "Drop your weapons. If you do not comply at once, we'll shoot!"
|
|
|
Post by Kuroboom on Jan 9, 2010 18:53:04 GMT -5
Scar was stunned by the blast, though not severely injured. He had swung his blade baseball-bat-style and had directed most of the damage towards an empty space between Lucas and Mandelbrot. He was pretty pissed off from the attack and snapped when the police kicked the door down. "Freeze! Police! You're under arrest!" yelled the man who seemed to be in charge. Scar flung his blade at the officer next to the detective. The officer's vest would have been some protection against bullets, but they just weren't designed for blades.
The officer flew a few feet and was stuck to the wall as the blade impaled his chest. Magnum Killer reappeared in its master's hand as the officer slumped to the floor dying. "Get out!" he bellowed at the remaining officers as he shifted his attention back to Mandelbrot. His warning would probably incite them to fight, but there was always the chance they'd run away with their tails between their legs.
|
|
|
Post by hermes on Jan 9, 2010 20:44:49 GMT -5
Lucas scowled heavily as the officers busted his door down, and ignored the lead figure as he got to his feet.
"No, you freeze," Lucas said, several arms around the doorway darting towards the officer, reaching inside him, and thus dragging him across the room. They pinned him to the wall, and Lucas swept one contemptuous look at the other officers, before filling the hallway outside his apartment with jagged ice.
Lucas calmed walked over to Davidson, now pinned against the wall, and punched him in the face. Lucas smiled at the loud snap that signalled his nose breaking, savored the sight of the man's blood. Lucas grabbed the man by the throat, and pinned his head flush against the wall.
"Who are you, and how did you find this place?" Lucas asked darkly. "And understand, if you do not answer me with blunt honesty the first time, I will track down your family. I will torture them to death. I will do terrible, unspeakable things to them. And when I am done, I will impale them with this sword," Lucas said, holding the tip of Soulmourne to the man's neck. "And they will become part of it. Part of the screaming chorus you hear around you now."
Lucas' grin continued to stretch, turning his face into a grotesque mask. "So think carefully before you speak."
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 9, 2010 22:33:39 GMT -5
Police? Mandelbrot had not expected them to even find this place, and it especially did not expect them to get a warrant so fast. Of course, it would be naive to think that there was no police investigation at all considering how public these massacres were, but Mandelbrot was hoping that it could be in and out of this hideaway days before the authorities came.
It really didn't want to be involved with the police. Being chased by small groups of Powers was one thing; they usually kept to themselves. However, Mandelbrot did not want its existence public knowledge. Staying here while these police, no matter how dead they were about to be, was a big enough risk already.
"Gentlemen," it said monotonously. It then took advantage of the stunned fear the police officers were in and ran for the mirror above the broken sink.
Mandelbrot stabbed at the wall behind the mirror and sharply wedged it forward. After quickly placing its knife back in its labcoat, it took a firm grasp of the mirror and wrenched it from the wall. It threw the glass into the air, spinning it to keep it stably facing downward, and snapped its arms straight down.
The mirror fell, but instead of bashing Mandelbrot in the head, it seemed to fall through the killer. It hit the floor, shattering, leaving no trace of the entity that was once there.
|
|
|
Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 9, 2010 22:54:34 GMT -5
Pinned against the wall by the icy hands, Davidson felt the chill throbbing through his body. He was completely immobile, and could do nothing as the grungy-haired man's fist smashed into his face. He winced and drew in a sharp breath. It wasn't the first time his nose had been broken, but the blood already felt colder than it should as it dribbled down to his lips. Then the grungy-haired man grabbed Davidson's throat and made a demand. Davidson coughed violently, loosing more blood, before he managed to speak.
"Put some clothes on, killer," he rasped. "You don't want to die looking like that."
Right on cue, the other policemen started shooting. Three of them were kneeling on the floor of the hallway and blasting a path through the icy hands, while the remaining two stood and fired at the grungy-haired man and the scarred man.
|
|