Jump to content
Red the Ambivalent

Port Caelum Festival Strength Games

Recommended Posts

Port Caelum is hosting a Festival to honor it's beginning, a brand new city in the Arcane East with a diverse population separated by the inlet that is the port itself. It is also a celebration held to honor the ascension of the Baroness Red Yusuke into the position of Queen of the Scarlet Region, which is made up of Predators Keep in Terrenus as well as Port Caelum in Genesaris. The Regent of Port Caelum is being celebrated as well, Akako Akari is the reigning regent beneath Queen Red. 

The Festival is beautifully decorated in golds and silvers, the theme a wonderful mixture of the sun and moon. Lanterns, lights, streamers, decorations of all kinds line the streets where music is played and the guests dance and enjoy the many shops opened to provide food and drink. 

The main attraction for the Festival is the many different masks, a much more intricate Masquerade. Each mask is designed to create an illusion of the wearer, completely reshaping the person into whatever face the mask may represent. Children, men and women, beasts and faeries, whatever mask you wish to hide behind. 

There are events and dancing, a live band, being a city-wide Festival there is plenty of activities to partake in. Where the Port meets the base of the mountain, where the two different orientations that divide the city meet is where the Band will be playing and where some of the festivities are going to be held. Dancing, food, drink, events to partake in, it will be the most crowded section of the new city, and where Queen Red and Regent Akako will be beginning their evening. 

 

Strength Games

This thread is dedicated to the Strength Games. Within the military training Grounds of the Port, soldiers have been given the task of watching over contestants that wish to join in on the fun with wooden swords and weapons of the like in one on one or team style duels. This will be monitored heavily, but keep in mind that this is not a T1 style activity, this is a storyline friendly duel where you are to play fair and fight to the best of your abilities without preps. It is not to the death, it is meant for laughs and fun. Play fair.

Edited by Red the Ambivalent

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Catherine_zpsjjak8fsl.png

CathySprite2_zpsiendhd4e.png

"What do you mean, 'training weapons?'"

Catherine looked at the twig offered to her with utter contempt. Even if it were appropriate to her size--which it was not, as the referee did not have giantess-scaled equipment on hand--the idea of fighting with blunted sticks offended the warrior to her core. Even as a child she had not fought with such things! The weakness of lowlanders never ceased to amaze her.

"I will fight without your stick. 'Tis an insult to the art of combat to wield such things."

The referee nodded nervously and put the training sword back on its rack.

"But, miss, I'm afraid your armor....."

"My armor? Ah, of course. You folk are truly pathetic, aren't you? Shall I bind my wrists for you as well?"

She was rather proud of herself for that one. It had taken her a long time after leaving Crossgate to even understand this foreign concept of "sarcasm," much less appreciate it. This was her first successful use of the rhetorical technique. Though she still cared little for words by comparison to deeds, she could not deny the satisfaction derived from the delivery of a truly scathing retort to one's foe. The huge woman patiently stripped away the plates of her armor, working her fingers into all the proper gaps and nooks to undo the straps holding them on with minimal time and effort. The armor was Catherine's second skin, and she had the art of entering or exiting it down to a fine science. Finally, she was allowed to enter the ring, wearing only her undergarments and unarmed. Her foe had one of the wooden sticks, but still looked rather unsure about fighting her. In all likelihood, she outweighed him by more than double.

Catherine made no attempt to move towards her opponent, or even to move at all for that matter. She did not so much as adopt a battle stance, simply standing straight with her arms at her sides, glaring at her foe. Though she did not speak, no words were needed to convey her disdain and lack of respect for the small man. After pacing around her for some time, he finally grew impatient and charged at her with a yell, swinging the sword against her side with all his might. It was a mighty blow indeed--so mighty that the wooden blade snapped in half from its sheer force. Yet Catherine did not so much as wince. Instead, she grabbed the shocked man under his armpits and heaved his out of the ring, sending him flying more than fifteen feet through the air to do so.

"Useless! Bring me a worthy challenger!" she demanded.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

@Robbie Rotten

From the sidelines, a young woman in her early twenties stepped out of the sidelines. A grey robe was draped across her body loosely, going all the way down to her feet. Her black hair was tucked neatly into a small braid at the back of her head. She was small sized, almost three times smaller than the woman who had just hurled a man across the room with little to no difficulty.

"You want a worthy challenger?" she raised her eyebrows. By no means was Lizzie not terrified. She was nervous as hell about taking on the larger sized woman. But in her mind, she knew that although the woman was by far much stronger than her, her large size would make it difficult to out maneuver the smaller sized girl. Lizzie wasn't very strong. She was reasonably strong to the point where she could lift heavy tables with some effort, but for her to pick up an entire man? And throw him across the room? She was far from capable of doing that.

She sized up her competitor. The woman wielded no weapons. And for the sake of her own pride, Lizzie rejected the training sword which was offered to her when she entered the grounds. Her competitor had stripped her armor completely off, not even wearing a simple tunic to protect herself from punches or direct blows. Lizzie wasn't as surprised, after seeing how the woman had taken a direct strike from a wooden sword without even wincing. Lizzie's robe wouldn't help her much in this battle. It contained all of her fancy gadgets which she'd use on actual threats. She had only come here for a little thrill of kicking someone's arse. She didn't plan on losing this fight.

As she approached her opponent, she reached for the straps which fastened her robe together, eventually sliding out of the robe altogether. Underneath, she wore a sleek black suit that covered her entire body. The suit went all the way down to her feet, encasing her toes completely. The only body parts of her exposed were her neck, face, hands, and a small portion of her chest.

She was about a head shorter than the gigantic woman. She clenched her fists nervously, skirting around her like a cat. She wasn't stupid enough to go in directly for an attack. That would be suicidal.

"I didn't quite catch your name," she said, sliding her left leg in front of her right, such that her side would face the gigantic woman. Her arms were raised perpendicular to her body. If she needed to, she would be able to run to her right or behind her if the woman were to catch her off guard. Awaiting some sort of reaction, whether aggressive of polite, she bent down onto her right leg, coiling up like a spring.

Edited by Alyssa Coops

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Hmmm."

This small one looked no more threatening than the last, at least in terms of physical constitution. Her manner was different though. Catherine did not sense a lack of fear, but rather, a degree of confidence that had been missing from the first man. Her adoption of the same terms as Catherine--no extraneous garments, no ridiculous "training weapon"--showed that clearly. Even if the small girl had little chance of success, a valorous spirit was always worthy of respect. A degree of respect, that was. True respect still had to be earned through deeds.

"Defeat me, and I shall grant you the honor of my name."

Catherine took slow, deliberate steps towards her foe, arms raised slightly with hands held out and fingers spread, ready to grab at first contact. Her opponent seemed to be dancing around her to a degree, but such evasiveness would only delay the inevitable. There were no cowardly ranged weapons in play here, no foul magicks with which she might assail Catherine from afar. The warrioress was patient, and she could afford to be. One way or another, they would clash at close range. She would continue to chase the woman for as long as need be, stance held steady, steps always slow, deliberate, and careful. The small woman would waste more energy running around in circles than Catherine would with her simple yet careful continuous approach.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

@Robbie Rotten

All forms of silliness left the gunslinger's face. She felt a bead of sweat form on her cheek and stick to it.

Urgh

The mask was hindering her from releasing body heat efficiently from her face. The only reason why she had a mask on was to disguise her robotic right eye. None else. Her bodily features were all pretty much the same.

 

As the woman lumbered towards her, Lizzie began to back up slowly, before returning to the same stance. This did not provoke the woman into taking a different approach however. Lizzie knew that if they continued on like this, they would just be playing cat and mouse around the ring. Sure, she could endure long periods of running. She'd always have to do that out in the field, lugging a 29 pound sniper rifle on her back everywhere she went. But if she did so, she'd probably get mocked by her opponent for being cowardly.

This time, she allowed the woman to get about 6 feet in front of her, and expected her to lunge, given their close proximity, coupled by the frustration of being kited by the smaller girl. Having been leaning back onto her right leg, she would be able to unleash a sudden burst of speed, that wouldn't be directed at the woman, but above her.

She would spring upwards, arms bent before quickly thrusting out at the woman's shoulders with her arms, which would allow her some leverage over the woman's larger form. However, she would notice that the woman would have her arms outstretched, ready to seize her if the chance was given. Rather than give the woman a perpendicular grip on her body, she would push herself upwards such that the closest thing that the woman could grab would be her legs. Upon the woman applying an iron grip onto her thighs, she would wince slightly at the pressure before pushing downwards on the woman's shoulders, sliding upwards out of her grip due to the slippery surface of her suit. If she was lucky, that would put her somewhere above the woman now, if only for a split second. She wouldn't waste it. She would wrap her now freed legs around the woman's neck, letting go of her hands and grabbing hold of the back of the woman's skull for some sort of handhold.

She would have two choices now. The first would be to use the slippery surface of her suit to her advantage, twisting around quickly, snapping the woman's neck. But this was an event, and she didn't want to kill the woman, in spite of her proud attitude which Lizzie detested.

The second would be to try to take advantage of the increased centre of gravity that the woman had. This appeared to be a far better option, even though Lizzie lacked the weight and confidence to pull it off effectively.

Upon the woman trying to grab for her, Lizzie would only have a few seconds of time before those powerful hands were to wrap around her waist and pull her off. She would hook the balls of her feet to the woman's back, using that as a pivet and pulling hard on the skull of the woman's head. This was allow her to seemingly pull herself upwards into a squatting position on top of the woman, now free falling towards the ground. If she pulled this off, the woman would be heavily unbalanced, leaning very much forward due to the pressure that Lizzie exerted on her shoulders. And now, she would shove her forwards, lashing out brutally with her legs, which would send the woman reeling out of the ring, and if she got lucky, fall flat onto her face due to the imbalance. With her smaller and more agile form, Lizzie would do a somersault, ending the dramatic leap into a roll to even out the force applied from the fall onto her entire body, before groggily pushing herself to her feet. She would be dazed and panting from the adrenaline and rigor of the fight, bending over onto her knees and gasping for air.

Edited by Alyssa Coops

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The woman's speed took Catherine by surprise, but she was still able to grab hold of her legs as she tried to push herself up onto Catherine's shoulders--except that her clothing was made of some strange material that slipped right through her grasp like water flowing between one's fingers. The huge woman growled in frustration, turning around in place as Lizzie sat on and around her head, even having the audacity to grab onto her face! Catherine aimed a punch directly up above herself at where Lizzie sat, her massive fist missing by inches as Lizzie kicked off of her back and rolled on the ground. The maneuver did send Catherine stumbling forward, but only slightly; the enormous difference in size and weight between the two made it nearly impossible for her opponent to push her around, even by using the whole of her body as a spring, which the warrioress had to admit was an impressive technique.

This, of course, was the point of Catherine's measured approach. She was well aware that it was her own weight being used against her, not that of her opponent, which was the main threat to her in this match. Hence, she had never lunged or leapt towards Lizzie, refusing to commit to any such actions with her legs. Instead, she chose to maintain her upright stance and careful, deliberate steps all the way through, no matter how close her opponent got. This meant that instead of helping an airborne Catherine push herself out of the arena, Lizzie's maneuver had been performed on a Catherine that was standing straight and keeping herself planted firmly on the ground throughout its execution. In addition, she had turned around midway through the stunt, causing it to push her farther back towards the center of the arena rather than out of its limits.

Catherine turned about to face Lizzie once more, hearing a few onlookers jeer at how the smaller woman had out-maneuvered her. She grit her teeth and ignored them. The problem was the strange suit that her foe wore, which made her so difficult to hold onto and pin down. The fight would be over the moment Catherine's fingers closed around any part of the small woman's body, were it not for that. She made one change to her stance as she resumed her slow approach: Her hands, previously open, now balled into fists. Instead of grappling the enemy, she would opt to strike them directly, as her size and strength were such that her blows would be devastating if they struck home. If ring out was not viable, Catherine would simply win by knock-out. She continued doggedly approaching Lizzie, reacting with a right hook if her prey came within her reach, but never over-extending herself with any over-eager movements of her legs.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A frustrated growl made its way out of Lizzie's mouth. As she steadied herself back onto her two feet, she noticed for the first time that instead of being flung back towards the centre of the ring, she had been flung further away from it due to the woman's sudden rotation during the tussle. That clearly hadn't worked as well as she wouldn't wanted it to have. The woman had been hardly affected by the attack, and her solid stance made it difficult for Lizzie to trip her. At times like this, she wished she had her semi autos with her.

The woman had taken up a new stance. Her fists were balled up tightly, indicating to Lizzie that a simple slide and slip attack wouldn't be viable anymore. She wouldn't be able to pull off the same trick again. She back up slowly as the woman approached her, buying her some time to look for a weakness.

And then she felt the ball of her foot rub against something. It was the edge of the ring. If she took one more step back, she would be out. The crowd began to jeer. Blood boiled in her head. This wasn't helping her to think at all. One of the spectators had the nerve to throw a paper ball that hit her on the knee.

And that gave her an idea. She began to skirt around the edges of the ring, baiting the woman into bringing herself even closer to the edge rather than having to push her there by force. Hell, even if Lizzie had knocked her clean out, she was unsure of whether she'd be able to lug the woman's unconscious body out of the ring.

The crowd disapproved of her disengagement. But it was the only plan she could think of. If the woman were to continue to follow along, gradually closing the gap between them by small amounts, Lizzie would suddenly lunge forwards, heading for the left of the woman's body. She expected that this would trigger a blow from the woman's tightly clenched fists. Of course, her reaction would have to be at breakneck speed, which is why Lizzie would already be prepared to dodge, relying on timing rather than seeing the blow and then dodging it. Regardless of the woman's reaction, she would suddenly shift her weight to her right, now being to the left of the woman. She imagined two likely responses in her mind. The first was for the woman to sweep her outstretched arm out at her. If that was her response, Lizzie would duck down quickly and use that momentum to tackle the woman's left leg, causing her left arm being outstretched coupled with the loss of balance from her left leg to send her flat onto her face, just short of squashing the gunslinger by a hair. Lizzie would then sit on her back and grab the woman's elbows, holding them in such a way that she would be pinned to the ground by the smaller woman. The other response was for the woman to completely dive onto Lizzie due to their close proximity. This was what she feared. It was a risk she had to take. But given the woman's hesitation to take any reckless actions, she figured that she had a pretty good chance of having the woman go for the first.

From the beginning, she was already disadvantaged. This gamble, she had to take.

@Robbie Rotten

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Catherine's fist struck only air as her right arm swung for the woman, who had move pre-emptively to Catherine's left in order to avoid it. Still quick, the little one was, but Catherine had more than one limb, and she had expected her first blow to fail. As Lizzie shifted her weight, Catherine shifted her own in turn, turning slightly aside and kicking at Lizzie from the hip using her left leg. The height difference between them was such that Catherine's knee would slam into the side of her opponent's face while hardly reaching higher than Catherine's own waist, should the blow meet its mark. If the woman were to try and tackle her on that side still, she might succeed in throwing Catherine off balance while the larger woman was momentarily balanced on a single leg, but she'd pay for it with a leg like a tree trunk smashing into her body.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

For a second, Lizzie's face lit up with delight as the woman's first blow sailed past her face as she had predicted. To her horror, the woman began to shift her own weight, the knee which Lizzie intended to go for thrusting back out at her.

There was no time to roll aside or dodge it. She let out a cry of pain as the meaty limb slammed into her left ribcage. She was thrown off the larger sized woman, the one blow having been sufficient to wind her. As she landed with a heavy thud, she continued to slide across the ground from the inertia of the blow. She heard a soft cracking sound in her torso. She had probably broken something. When she finally came to a stop, she was inches away from the edge of the ring. The friction had caused a large tear in the fabric on her right leg, leaving a huge open cut that stretched from her lower hip to her knee.

Wincing, she adjusted her mask, the illusion magic covering the wound with an imaginary layer of clothing. She staggered to her feet. She could leave. Right now. But if she did, she wouldn't be able to face the smug look on her opponent's face. She didn't move. Just stared at her opponent, breathing heavily. She was bent slightly over on her left side, trying her best to hide the throbbing pain which was sent in waves over her body. Her clenched palms were at her waist. With a long sigh, she returned the woman's gaze, staring back into her eyes. She was feeling dizzy. Her hopes of winning the fight had already evaporated. Now she was just fighting to protect her honor.

But at the end of the day, Alyssa (Liz) Cooper lived by the law of the gun. She was by far no martial artist. If she lost this fight, it wouldn't upset her, or bug her ego as much as if it had been a gunfight. Not that she would care if she had lost a gunfight. Losing a gunfight meant the loss of one's life. This was trivial in comparison.

And the woman she had fought was clearly no easy pushover either.

@Robbie Rotten

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Catherine's face, uncovered by any mask--as she detested applying such frivolous magic to her physical form--had thus far been nothing but a permanent scowl of contempt. That scowl had softened slightly when her opponent entered the ring without a weapon, and now it softened further still, to the point that the massive woman's face almost stopped looking harsh. Almost. However, she sneered anew as Alyssa's own mask covered up her injury with magic.

"Still on your feet? Impressive, for one of your size. You need not hide your wounds behind unnatural illusions. There is no shame in it. An injury is the mark of a warrior," Catherine said, circling Alyssa for a moment.

The match-up had been lopsided from the beginning, and now victory seemed all but assured for Catherine. Her opponent could not outrun or evade her for long with a broken rib rattling around in her chest. Catherine was not interested in victory alone, however. Honor concerned her as well. Though she might be capable of charging Alyssa right now and pounding her into a pulp, that struck her as little more than kicking a wounded dog. There was no honor in it. So she began to walk towards Alyssa again, but this time with her arms held down at her sides, no fighting stance present. She stopped a few feet away from her opponent, close enough to reach out and destroy her in any number of ways, but choosing not to.

"You are a worthy opponent, but your smallness betrays you. Still I respect your refusal to yield."

Catherine slammed a fist against the top of her left breast, over her heart, the Crossgate equivalent of a salute.

"Strike me now, and cause me to bend at your will. Use any means that you wish, but I grant you only a single blow. If you cannot stagger me, I shall claim victory. If I react in any way, I yield the match in your favor, knowing that in a true contest I have won already. 'Tis rare to see one of the smallfolk burn with such flames as yours."

Edited by Robbie Rotten

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Lizzie's face burned along with her pride. She had been overconfident and worried about her dignity. She hadn't expected the woman to show her mercy. And then offer to allow Lizzie to strike her down.

This final act of valor set a look of shame on her face. If she struck now and failed to cause the woman to flinch, it would be the ultimate act of humiliation to herself.

"I will not humiliate myself further," she said, sinking to her knees. All her fighting spirit evaporated in that moment. Whoever her opponent was was just better.

She lowered her head, allowing the pain to wash over her and never be seen ever again. Her torso throbbed. Something was out of place in her left chest. But she would worry about that later. A small streak of blood rolled down her thigh, streaking the fabric with a crimson red. It flowed onto the rock hard ground, mixing with the dust which had settled there for years.

She scowled and tore the mask off her face, beads of sweat rolling down her cheeks onto her neck. The illusion faded and the wound on her leg reopened. The blood was fresh, and ripe. She would need  to get that attended to later. She swept her fringe out of her face, revealing her twisted robotic right eye.

"You win."

After a long pause, the tension gradually left her body, "Alyssa Cooper, and you would be?"

Edited by Alyssa Coops

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"So be it."

Catherine offered a hand to help Alyssa walk, if she would have it. There was a time when she would never offer such aid unbidden to a lowlander, but even a shell as hard as hers had cracked ever so slightly after living for years among them. She sensed that the woman would be too proud to take it anyways, which was acceptable. In that case it would be withdrawn.

"I am Catherine of Crossgate. Who are you?" she asked.

Once the woman answered, Catherine would nod in acknowledgment, helping her out of the ring if she had taken Catherine's hand, or standing in place if not. By now a larger crowd had gathered around the makeshift arena. Few were interested in seeing fops and dandies poke at each other with sticks, but once word spread about the giantess cracking bones in her undergarments, many came to see the sight. Catherine noticed that of the onlookers, many who were male seemed overly focused on the areas of her chest, waist, and hips. Such degeneracy was typical of these folks, she thought. She rolled her eyes, another expression she had picked up from the lowlanders, drawing a few catcalls and wolf whistles.

"If you wish to lay hands upon this body, step into the ring and claim it! I shall fight ten of you at once, craven cowards! 'Tis only a weakling who crows from safety rather than taking what he desires!"

This challenge drew a series of gasps followed by a few moments of silence from the crowd. Was she serious, they whispered to each other? Surely not! Yet she was. It took a few more moments for the first brave soul to step forward, but finally one man did, and then another, and then there were ten of them, gathering in a circle and placing bets on who could strike Catherine where as she glared at them and waited to be allowed to strike them all down.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

@CrimsonAurora @Sapphire Blue @Robbie Rotten

Honor she had respected from young. But ever since Edric Carter had taken her under his wing, she was forced to learn the ways of those who lived in the greater community. Manners were not something that she was accustomed to, but when she was offered aid from the woman who had bested her, she felt that it would be arrogant for her to decline. She took Catherine's hand, using her uninjured leg to push herself to her feet. Her thighs would be wobbly from the shock of the blow she had sustained to her ribcage, so she leaned onto the larger sized woman, trying her best not to be a burden. It was easy, being someone of her size, she wasn't very heavy.

"You fight well Catherine," she said humbly, "Much better than most out here."

She caught the glimpse of a shieldbearer and a man in a tophat standing among the crowd, watching her with concern.

She sighed. The earful she was going to get was inevitable. Maybe she should've asked Catherine to beat her up a bit more so that Edric wouldn't tell her off.

As Catherine aided her out of the ring before letting go and returning to the centre, Lizzie took one last glance at the woman. She certainly had a lot more balls than most men.

She turned her back to the ring, gazing at the two dark figures hidden under the guise of the shadows. With a long exasperated breath, she hobbled over to the two.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

“There you are big guy! What’s going on?” Jack Hiedelberg asked, approaching a giant marshmallow, roughly between eight to ten feet in size. The lumpy costume made it hard to gauge the beasts height at the moment. 

The marshmallow mountain man smiled softly, replying with a loud “Hrmm!” The half titan, Gigas, reached his enormous hand out toward Hyde, scooping him up with ease, and bringing him onto his broad shoulders to sit down.

Hyde’s feet dangled as he watched the ring. He seemed baffled at the sight before him, a woman almost as big as Gigas, challenging a crowd of men. Her former opponent still in the ring, had said enough about the amazon’s strength. Jack pulled an apple from his coat, taking a bite from it before speaking. “Why don’t you fight?” He asked Gigas, confident in the simpletons strength.

Gigas raised a brow toward Hyde’s question, replying with a chuckle and another grunt. “Hurhurhu… Hmmm mmm.” The titan insisted, shaking his head in refusal. Gigas hated violence, and rarely ever fought for any reason other than self defense. As one born from the earth, Gigas loved every living being, aside from the vilest of creatures who proved their disdainful nature time and time again.

Hyde barely reacted, his feet still swaying carefree. “C’mon man. I’ve seen you arm wrestle giants. On the way here you pulled our armored vehicle out of a ditch. I mean, you eat stone for nourishment!” Hyde voiced, growing a bit irate at Gigas and his kind hearted interior. Still though, he had said the right thing.

'Eat, Stone.’ Gigas put the words together in his mind. With no surprise, Hyde slid from the Titans shoulder as it stood, teeming with excitement. “Hmmm.. Rock!” Gigas insisted.

Hyde shook his head. “Moron…”

Gigas responded immediately. “Rock… Rrrooock!” He insisted, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Hyde laughed hysterically for a moment. Gigas hadn’t spoken this much all week. “Now we’re talking!” Hyde snickered, picking up a large brick from the ground. He cocked his arm back and tossed the brick into the crowded ring. Unable to tell what, the brick had struck something with a loud clunk. As the brute would turn to head for his lunch, Hyde would vacate quickly in search of his friends Ronin and DJ.

The ground rumbled as Gigas bolted toward the ring, causing the more feeble men inside to make way for the giant marshmallow. Gigas slowed down in confusion, looking around, feeling threatened by the surrounding combatants as he stepped forward. Although he knew it was just a game, his gut churned with an uneasy sensation. Looking around for his target, Gigas spotted the brick near Catherine’s feet. With an idiotic savant, Gigas picked it up, holding it into the air before taking a bite. The sound of the stone turning into dust was truly astounding. More so, was the Titans response as he looked at Catherine. “Rock!” He rejoiced ignorantly, the crowd around them exploding with anticipation.
 

@Robbie Rotten

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

@Alyssa Coops @CrimsonAurora

Connor looked over the injured girl who struggled over to them. He sighed in exasperation.

"What were you thinking Liz? That woman is twice your size!" he put his hands on his hips to portray his annoyance, but with his tophat and comical formal wear that he wore to all places, it was hard to take Connor Fortesque for being serious.

But deep down, he was truly concerned for the girl. Liz Cooper was a gunslinger. She didn't know what it was like to take hits. Edric would never allow her to experience what it felt like.

"Here," he handed her a medium sized vial of purple elixir, "This should help."

He picked up the healing potion in one of the shops along the road just outside. Turned out that it came in handy much more quickly than he had expected.

Glancing behind her, he noticed a small white piece of fabric on the ground which some people were beginning to poke at.

"Your robe-" he began, before ending his sentence with a soft whistling sound. From his pockets, four poker cards flew out, gliding across the room. They slid under the robe, vanishing from sight, before rising into the air, causing the robe to seemingly levitate.

The magician hadn't had much practice with his whistling control. He used to use a wand to control his cards, but after Vox taught him to use his whistling to change their direction of movement, he began to pick up a few tips, but at a rather slow pace. The cards wavered clumsily, forcefully dragging the robe onto the shoulders of the wounded girl.

"So, Edric, do you have anything to say?" he turned his head to the shieldbearer who had remained silent. He wouldn't mistake his leader's deliberate short sightedness for blindness, oh no that would be a grave mistake.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×