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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2510
   |
Posted - 2014.11.03 08:29:00 -
[91] - Quote
Vyzion was onto his fifth stack when Galm walked in with another man. He was about to wave when he saw the other man's mechanical limb. Captain Morgan GÇÿWulverGÇÖ V+órcolac...
Vyzion finished his next pancake, took a sip of coffee to clear get it all down, sat up a little straighter and crammed a pancake into Junko's drooling mouth. But it didn't look like the two were interested in making sure the squad were keeping their minds on task. Indeed, Galm himself was obviously recovering from an overdose of some horribly potent substance, and Wulver was less than amused at the contractor's state. Indeed, as the medic watched, Galm's introduction degraded into a full-on brawl between the two of them. I wonder if he has a rocket-propelled punch mechanism... The idea was immensely appealing to Vyzion, and he resolved to consider modifying future battle clones.
After the scuffle was broken up the pair took their seats at the bar, and Vyzion was still sitting silently, watching intently. When he realised the two really didn't care about the progress of the others, he shrugged and relaxed. He turned back to Junko and reached a hand out... but the pancake he had shoved in her mouth was gone. The medic blinked. I need to learn how to eat in my sleep too... He chuckled softly as he returned to his pancakes. Interactions with other soldiers off the battlefields were always so surreal.
He was about to say something to Thal, but the Templar had turned his back to the table. Vyzion looked up again from his pancakes (why couldn't they just let him eat his pancakes?) and saw two things.
Firstly, the enormous stack of chocolate chip pancakes Galm had ordered, topped with whipped cream. Wow, those look good. Maybe next t- oh. There won't be a next time, he thought.
Secondly, he found Thal had turned to greet Templar Ouryon walking in with a fairly stout-looking Caldarian stranger. Kador nodded to Thal, ordered breakfast, and then fell into a chair at their table, proceeding to lean back and study the roof, silent and brooding. He looked as worn out as the others, but covered in a few more layers of filth.
The medic looked down at his pristine white coat. He cleared his throat.
"So... where's Jester?"
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
|
Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
302
|
Posted - 2014.11.04 04:34:00 -
[92] - Quote
Vyzion Eyri wrote: Vyzion finished his next pancake, took a sip of coffee to clear get it all down, sat up a little straighter and crammed a pancake into Junko's drooling mouth
as soon as the entirely of the Pancake was stuffed into Hya'salia's mouth, her eyes shot open.
'wai..what the-' she wanted to say but her gag reflex took over as shetried to chew on the whole pancake, which was difficult because her mouth was stuffed, but she slowly fought through the urge to spit the whole thing down and in a minute she swalloed the whole pancake.
then came the coughing as she bent over the table and started coughing.
"*coughcoughcough* what the he*cough cough* ell, that pancake was delicious, but why shove it down my throat!?!" Hya'salia grimaced, staring at Vyzion as she wiped a bit of bread from her lips.
then she looked around, trying to take in her surroundings.
Thal was next to her, greeting Adamance as he arrived with a small, fat caldarian elder. across from her was Vyzion, who was busy stuffing himself with what hya'salia thought was the entire store's supply of pancakes, still warm and toasty , along with a small assortment of side dishes.
She could already imagine savoring the food, unconciously reaching out for a plate.
"ummm... Vyzion? may i have some" hya'salia asked, while she grabbed a plate regardless of whether or not he answered. she picked up a fork and a knife and started cutting the pancakes into a grid. as soon as she was done , she drizzled a serving of honey and picked up a piece, taking a small bite.
the flavors, the honey and the fluffiness of the pancakes was harmoniously synchronized, the light tang of the lemon contrasted with the sweetness of the honey as she felt the pancake melt in her mouth.
"mmmmm- Byma'mui!! Mien Bmya'mui!!!" She exclaimed in her tongue as she picked out another piece and another , the feeling she experienced is similar to paradise, deftly ignoring the rest of the world. |
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.05 07:51:00 -
[93] - Quote
Vyzion Eyri wrote:
"So... where's Jester?"
"Who can say," Galm barked through a mouth full of waffle, "I'm not married to the man. He was with me when I left my room this morning. I got a bit side tracked and took a different route than him. The man is an adult, I'm certain he can handle himself doctor."
Fae shook his head spitefully and took a long sip of his milk, breathing out only after he had drank the entire glass. He let the cool cup hang in his hands for a moment, then let it rest gently against his temples. Despite his outward enthusiasm, the man was obviously wearing himself thin. Dried patches of blood still traced down his forehead where he had made contact with the strip pole the night before, and there were all manners of stains across his jacket that not even Fae could identify. He could have washed up before leaving for the day, but what was the point? Soon he'd be back out there in the pits for the first time in a long time, bloodied and broken but idolized by those in the stands... Assuming he was victorious.
In the past he had been so mindful of his personal hygiene, if only to maintain the illusion that he was still human, but now was different. His body was a tool at his disposal for this mission and nothing more. All he needed to do was drag it to the end of the assignment, and if his current coil couldn't make the journey he was more than happy to crawl into a second skin and start anew. He glanced over his fellow comrades, wounding if they knew exactly how far he was willing to go to keep his cover. The people of Snowfall demanded a certain showmanship from Pixy in the years past, and he was all too keen on letting his old sins take flight for the sake of the mission. In honesty, the real difference between him and a Gurista were negligible. Both were willing to forsake necessary protocols and social conventions for the sake of their best interests. It was just so unfortunate that the people of Snowfall weren't in Fae's best interest.
As he glanced over the mercenaries, his eyes briefly caught those of a nearby local. At first Galm grimaced, shaken to find himself looking into the eyes of some deadbeat and his fat lowlife counterpart. He turned around quickly, trying to make trivial conversation with Morgan. The capsuleer was in no mood to assist and continued to sip his coffee in silence, leaving Pixy to awkwardly look around the room and try in vein to not look back in the direction of the vagrant.
Except... No... That was no vagrant! Galm slammed the glass onto the counter and spun his stool around to face the Amarr, shouting over any conversations the soldiers may have been having among themselves.
"Kador!" he thundered, "You look like hammered ****!"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
14224
|
Posted - 2014.11.05 21:53:00 -
[94] - Quote
Galm Fae wrote:
"Kador!" he thundered, "You look like hammered ****!"
He cast a baleful eye at the halfbreed.
GÇ£I feel worse than sinGÇ¥ he croaked invidiously taking his coffee from the waiter and sipping at the muddy caffeine, warily at first, then more casually leaning forwards into the table facing the assembled operators.
They all looked worn down. As he had noticed before both Templar Vadam and Junko bore the bruises of their pit fights, though having watched the highlight reels of the combats he hadnGÇÖt noticed either take nearly so many blows as to account for those that mottled their skin already pushing through the later stages of the healing process.
Vysion seemed alright, clad in a foreign white coat synonymous with physicians. It was rather apparent he had found his way to the clinics as had been instructed.
Galm however was in a state to say the least in a state. Blood still matted his hair, running down from the brown, tousled locks across his fore head, and like Kador his original clothing bore the stains and filth from the night before.
This however did no surprised Kador in the least. Galm seemed the type to play hard and was lucky enough not to end up like that Junkie that had spasmed his way into a coma on his way here.
If fact none of their states surprised him. Shoashu Sasaanko was a beast of its own. He was glad for the fact that if Thal had been fighting outside of the arena that Junko has been there to back him up.
HeGÇÖd have to thank her later.
He turned his attentions back to the bitter coffee, watching the murky liquid formed a miniature whirlpool as he rolled the cup around between his hands.
GÇ£None of you look too much better than I do.GÇ¥ He muttered defensively.
Opposite him in his seat the old man was shaking uncontrollably, a thin sheen of sweat was evident on his face and from the growing stains under his arms, his coffee dripping over the lip of his cup and onto the table beneath.
His upper lip was curled back into a thin and obviously forces smile, and was making slight tittering noises as his eyes rapidly flicked back from the Amarrian to the rest of the assembled.
He recognised Thal and Junko, and was casting sideways slack jawed glances at Galm, who probably of the lot was the more famous in the area.
GÇ£Peace be Makoai.GÇ¥ Kador growled at the man a little too aggressively, he was sick of the manGÇÖs spineless display. GÇ£Put the damned caffeine down before you burn yourself baka.GÇ¥
The man blinked twice, surprised at the hostility in his partners voice, shot him a venomous look as if to say GÇ£ItGÇÖs your damn fault IGÇÖm here.GÇ¥
GÇ£Wrong side of the bed or something crawl up yer arse Amarrian?GÇ¥
GǣThose cubesGǪ..Gǥ
GÇ£Those rGÇÖsposed to make you happyGǪGǪ didnGÇÖt take you for that kindGǪyour God must be-GÇ£
GÇ£**** off Makoai!GÇ¥
He brushed it off with a dismissing wave, exhorting a exasperated huff from the Caldarian who seemed to find his confidence amongst all that indignation. His voice still occasionally trembled and broke at odd intervals but he covered for this speaking more to himself and any one of the immortals.
GÇ£You guys actually spend time with this tool?GÇ¥ He asked them, leaning over the gap nudging Vysion in the ribs playfully with and elbow. GÇ£Oh hey those look really good, might get some for myself huh? Good taste JaijiiGǪ.whereGÇÖs that pretty waitress huh? But seriouslyGǪ.. GÇ£
GÇ£How does this all work then?GÇ¥
GÇ£Like so Choirboy.GÇ¥
- Mila to Kador, Sub Zero Club, Shoashu Sasaanko
|
Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
65
|
Posted - 2014.11.06 01:33:00 -
[95] - Quote
After they left the room Noah had quickly lost track of Galm. He was rambling on about waffles, or pancakes, or some other sort of breakfast dish. In all honesty Noah had not been paying attention to what the man had been saying. He was more concerned with making sure that he was at least fit to complete his job. He was also in the process of finishing business with the nurse. As long as Fae wasnGÇÖt retching up his internal organs Noah didnGÇÖt much care what he was doing or saying.
The two had left the building at the same time, and for a few minutes Noah had remained with Fae, making sure he wasnGÇÖt going to tumble down a set of stairs and toss his face into a concrete wall. After a minute it was apparent that Fae had no intention of taking things slow or easy. After Fae jumped down a flight of stairs Noah abandoned his attempts at watching out for the man. He was either going to make it to the diner, or he was going to wind up dead in a stairwell.
Noah watched Galm jump down another flight of stairs, barely able to keep himself upright. With a sigh and drag on his cigarette the soldier turned away from the staircase and went off on his own. As he turned his back on Galm he felt a slight drop in his stomach. A slight pang of guilt. Noah had made the decision to accompany Galm yesterday, and although he had never agreed to take watch over him he still felt slightly responsible for him. With a long drag on his cigarette and some will power he shoved the feeling aside.
Jester was in no rush to get to the diner, the thought of greasy breakfast meats sitting in his stomach, or flour based breakfast cakes slowly expanding in his gut did not sound very appealing. He had also spent the majority of his night watching Galm regurgitate the contents of his stomach multiple times. So he was going to take his time, gather his thoughts, before he reached the appointed meeting place.
Galm Fae wrote:"Kador!" he thundered, "You look like hammered ****!"
Jester had wandered in just as Galm was causing another scene and accusing the Templar of looking like crap.
GÇ£You have no room to talk Fae.GÇ¥ Noah spoke in a deadpan tone.
The soldier tossed himself into a booth next to the others, sitting sideways with his legs hanging out the end of the booth. For the sake of appearances Noah ordered a cup of coffee, but he was going to refrain from eating any food. Besides it looked like Junko and Vyzion were eating enough for all of them. He leaned his head up against the wall and expelled a large amount of smoke from his lungs. |
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.06 07:08:00 -
[96] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
GÇ£You guys actually spend time with this tool?GÇ¥ He asked them, leaning over the gap nudging Vysion in the ribs playfully with and elbow. GÇ£Oh hey those look really good, might get some for myself huh? Good taste JaijiiGǪ.whereGÇÖs that pretty waitress huh? But seriouslyGǪ.. GÇ£
Galm let his head hang for a moment, sighing with contempt as he began to pull himself from his chair. Morgan put a single hand on his shoulder, forcing the mercenary back into his seat.
"Let it go man," the empyrian groaned in a jaded tone, "He's just a baseliner."
"Yeah," Fae growled, "Just a baseliner."
"Yes," Morgan spat with emphasis, "Just a baseliner. The guy's an insect, no use getting your boots dirty by going over and stepping on him."
Morgan spun back around, facing away from the two. He signaled for another cup of coffee, leaving Fae to his own devices. He had long learned that there really was no controlling Pixy. All he could ever hope for was to put an idea in his head and hope that he decided to see things your way. What he did to the fat Caldari meant little to him, but it did seem like such a horrible way to start his day if he had to see another baseliner beat into the dirt. While looking away, Galm had long since crossed the room between the two and made his way to Makoai.
Quote:GÇ£You have no room to talk Fae.GÇ¥ Noah spoke in a deadpan tone.
The soldier tossed himself into a booth next to the others, sitting sideways with his legs hanging out the end of the booth. For the sake of appearances Noah ordered a cup of coffee, but he was going to refrain from eating any food. Besides it looked like Junko and Vyzion were eating enough for all of them. He leaned his head up against the wall and expelled a large amount of smoke from his lungs.
Galm snapped his head to the Gallente, grinning slightly as he took a long drag from his clove cigarette. He chuckled for a moment, then took a seat in the booth with Kador. Shaking his head, he drew out his package of menthols and pursed one between his lips before lighting it with a steel zippo.
"See, I think Jester has the right idea here," he chuckled through a cloud of smoke, "A smoke does me good. Takes the edge off... You want one? Mister-- I'm sorry, what was your name?"
The halfbreed happily placed the still burning menthol behind his ear and extend the package out to Makoai, shaking it to pressure him into taking one. The grubby filth took one, his hand shaking slight... Though out of fear or anticipation he did not know. Before he could open his mouth to introduce himself, Galm dropped the package onto the table between the two.
"Oh gods and spirits, sorry! Clumsy hands! Could you pick that up for my kirjuun? It'd sure be a kakkush, jaalan."
The sudden change to his more formal tongue was enough to set the man on edge, but he was forced to oblige as he reached forward to pick up the package of smokes. As soon as his hand made contact, Galm threw his arm down and connected square with his wrist. It gave a horrific pop, easily splintering into pieces internally as the joint hit the table before the rest of his hand. Rapidly, Pixy pulled the menthol from behind his ear and dug it into the hand of the Caldari, grinding it into his skin before it went out in a puff of smoke. The man hollered more in rage than fear or pain as Galm gave him back his hand when he began to recoil.
"You pull a comment like that to me again slug and it's going to be a knife going through your hand, you hear me? Kador, where did you even find this worm?"
Typical, Morgan thought to himself as the waiter came back nonchalant with his third cup of coffee, it always degrades to violence with him.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2516
|
Posted - 2014.11.06 09:44:00 -
[97] - Quote
Passerbys would've looked in and thought there was an eating competition going on between Vyzion and Junko at this point, when Jester showed up. Vyzion had gotten his rhythm going now, and he continued chomping down on the flapjacks at a steady pace as the other Gallentean sat down at the table and ordered a coffee.
Clockwork Jester wrote:GÇ£You have no room to talk Fae.GÇ¥ Noah spoke in a deadpan tone.
The medic noticed the look Noah shot Galm, almost as if he were scolding a bad-behaved child. Vyzion grinned. Or at least he tried to make himself grin. The half-stack of pancakes in his mouth probably transformed it into a grotesque snarl.
Then out of nowhere, this Caldarian Kador had introduced as Makoai jabbed in in the ribs. A playful jab, but unfortunately for Vyzion, one that got him right in his most ticklish spots.
Templar Thal Vadam, sitting across from the medic, received a half-stack of pancakes to his face as Vyzion choked, then reflexively emptied his airways explosively.
"Sorry," he coughed. "Here, I'll help you clean it up."
Thal sat still as Vyzion cleaned, and whether he was astonished, amused or angry Vyzion could not tell, probably because the napkin he was using to wipe the Templar's face covered his features. When he was finished, he found himself in possession of a sticky, wet mess of pancakes, saliva and honey. Perfect.
He turned to Makaoi, cowering now from Galm, his broken wrist laying on the table, the burnt part of his hand gently smoking. His stout build had appeared to shrink next to the mercenary. "Hey, Mister. Put this on the burn." Without waiting for a reply, Vyzion slammed the mushy pancakes and honey into the Caldarian's hand, and wrapped the tissue around the back of the hand tightly.
Pleased, the medic turned back around and dragged another stack of pancakes back in front of Thal.
He sat back, burped, and pat his stomach. He called for another coffee, and the waitress scowled at him again before hurrying off to fulfill the order. He whipped out a packet of toothpicks from his pants, stuck on in his mouth and exhaled through his nostrils.
"Well," Vyzion began, over Makaoi's whimpers. "So far I've been enjoying this place... I think. Feel a little more comfortable in a dropsuit, though. The girls though, give me more of a kick than a combat rifle, even though I can't talk to them for ****."
The waitress had come over with another coffee and overheard the last part, and she muttered a response in shaky Gallentean.
"Got tha' right."
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
14252
|
Posted - 2014.11.06 22:34:00 -
[98] - Quote
Kador let out a sibilant whisper, momentarily enjoying the sharp pain as the cool air was sucked over the tops of his teeth, but kept silent.
MakoaiGÇÖs eyes bulged with a mixture of shock and pain as Galm landed a crushing blow against his wrist, dislocating it in a single sweeping motion, before turning the lit cigarette against the flesh of his inner arm.
At first Kador was thankful, the manGÇÖs own sweat seemed to snuff out the glowing orange ring pressing into his skin, however that feeling was short lived. His face turned a distinct puce and he began to tug at the lame arm trying vainly to struggle against the empyreanGÇÖs iron grip.
This was perhaps the first time Kador had truly witnessed the sporadic and instantaneous display of violence that he knew Galm to be capable of, and was for the moment shocked to inaction by it.
Pity welled up from inside him. Makoai had deserved no such punishment for his actions.
As Galm released him his arm he withdrew to the edge of the booth clutching the damaged limb tightly to his body, breathing heavily, and whimpering pathetically.
He didnGÇÖt look at any of them, just kept his head down staring down at the sudden grotesque angle his hand was now locked into with a look of stupor marring his features.
GÇ£Y-youGǪ..broke itGǪ. Kirjuun-haan..GÇ¥ He stammered, hysteria creeping into his voice, repeating the same formal and polite wording Galm had chosen, adding meaningless honorifics lest he suffer more harm. GÇ£I-itGÇÖsGǪ oh MakerGǪ. It canGÇÖt be fixedGǪ.why? I-GǪ..GÇ¥
Before he could even finish Vysion leaned over from the other table where he, Junko, and Templar Vadam had been enjoying their food, clasping in his hands a wad of kneaded pancakes and honey.
He took MakoaiGÇÖs hand not gingerly, patiently waiting as he flinched, withdrew, and finally relented, smearing the sticky mix of honey and saliva over the burn on his inner arm before wrapping it neatly.
Kador interjected before Galm could, leaning across the table placing himself between them trying to ease the man before he did something else foolish.
GÇ£Calm down.GÇ¥ He hissed at the older man, barely paying any attention to him, wincing as Vysion bound the wound. GÇ£Just keep a lid on it, weGÇÖll get you fixed up, and consider it four hundred thousand.GÇ¥
GÇ£He ******* broke my wrist! I-GÇ£ He wailed, not bothering to keep his voice low.
KadorGÇÖs arm shot out, grasping the top of the manGÇÖs balding head, bringing him in close so that their faces were only centimetres apart.
GÇ£Look itGÇÖs dislocated as worstGǪ.. HeGÇÖs sorry. ThatGÇÖs his sorry faceGǪ. Just keep quiet for now and maybe you get through this without him actually breaking it.GÇ¥
GÇ£Pay rise. MoreGÇ¥ he sniffed. MakoaiGÇÖs voice was petulant, but calmer than it had been, heGÇÖd grasped the gravity of the situation now and was wary of Galm and the others.
GǣFineGǪjust apologise and shut up.Gǥ
He did so without question and lapsed into silence nursing his wrist. It was evident that the pain still troubled the man but he kept it to himself.
The Amarrian let loose one of his characteristic sighs as he returned to his seat. However this time he chose to lean forwards keeping both arms up above the table, pushing the coffee cup out to the limits of his reach.
What a fine mess these EmpyreanGÇÖs are, he thought to himself bitterly, discounting the other Templar from their ranks, who of all of them seemed to retain some semblance of Amarrian dignity.
He glanced over ta his counterpart who seemed to be enjoying his breakfast and started suddenly. Several dark red splotches were visible around his upper lip, Kador was about to raise this to VysionGÇÖs attentions when he realised it was not blood and simply gave his kinsman a knowing smirk.
The back to Galm who was still sitting there with a foul look on his face and some kind of anger in his cybernetic eyes.
GÇ£Easy there Fae-haan, this guyGÇÖs a promoterGǪfact heGÇÖs our promoter, and heGÇÖs on board about theGǪ..GÇ¥
Kador leaned in closer to the half-breed to whisper.
GÇ£The maaatch fixingGǪ.heGÇÖs on board for thatGǪ. Just the kind of guy I need to get my GÇ£equipmentGÇ¥ shipped in discretely.GÇ¥
GÇ£How does this all work then?GÇ¥
GÇ£Like so Choirboy.GÇ¥
- Mila to Kador, Sub Zero Club, Shoashu Sasaanko
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Thal Vadam
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
41
|
Posted - 2014.11.08 22:05:00 -
[99] - Quote
Thal chuckled to himself on the inside as he wiped some of the sticky breakfast refuse from his face. He wasn't in a state where such a thing could bring him any anger. He looked down at the small stack of pancakes in front of him and slowly started to eat. He wasn't very hungry, but he needed the energy for the day's fights.
He was excited, he lived for such fights. The call of the warrior was strong in him, and he was ready to test himself against everything the station's pits could through at him. He thought back to his training under his martial arts teacher, Master Kuul. All Thal knew of combat he learned from Kuul. Everything from large fleet tactics, to how to punch and kick correctly. The man had been like a father to Thal, but like everything in his life, Kuul died in fire and agony.
Thal turned his attention to his brother in arms Templar Ouryon. He looked more rugged, and beaten then his normal, noble appearance. The station must have been hard on him. Thal was old enough to handle the stations dark, disgusting, and villainous atmosphere. He did not know if Ouryon had the same capability.
He then looked at his employer, Galm Fae. Out of all the individuals in the cluster, Thal wanted to fight Galm the most. As a fighter, Thal knew Galm's reputation as a gladiator. Thal was looking forward to their fight, whenever it occurred.
Thal turned around and smiled at Junko as she ate. Thal truly delighted in her company, mostly because of their traning earlier. She had skill, skill that if tempered, could make her as good as himself.
"Are you ready for the pits Junko?"
"The Enemy has no idea of your true power. Let us show them! Thal to his men during the siege of Huola
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Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
306
|
Posted - 2014.11.09 01:11:00 -
[100] - Quote
Thal Vadam wrote:
Thal turned around and smiled at Junko as she ate. Thal truly delighted in her company, mostly because of their traning earlier. She had skill, skill that if tempered, could make her as good as himself.
"Are you ready for the pits Junko?"
Junko was nearing her 3rd batch when she heard thal. she looked at him with some food still in her mouth with an expression that said: "huh?" after a few second she chewed through the pancakes and swallowed, finishing it off with the cup of coffee. she didnt like the bitter taste, much preferring to add generous amounts of milk and sugar to a light brown finish, but recalling what her employer had said about the coffee, she chose to take his advice. still it was refreshing despite the cup going cold.
setting down the cup with a light sigh and wiping her mouth with a napkin, she turned to thal and slightly chuckled.
"yeah, im ready for the next round" she finished, leaning back on her chair and patting her stomach in a playful manner.
"but i hear that the next round of bouts is going to be a 'battle-royale' sort of match, Galm is that true?" she inquired, putting aside her pates and leaning towards the tables looking at her employer. |
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2520
|
Posted - 2014.11.09 21:28:00 -
[101] - Quote
Hunter Junko wrote:battle-royale
Vyzion managed to restrain himself from spitting his toothpick into True's eye. Instead he gasped and swallowed the damn thing.
As he sat gagging, eyes streaming, and body cringing at the sensation of the toothpick sliding down his gullet, his mind processed the words Junko had uttered over and over.
Battle royale.
Battle. Royal.
Free-for-all. Bloody.
Immortals. Crazy.
Battle-royale, free-for-all, immortals, bloody, crazy.
Bad clinic, not enough supplies or materials, bomb vests. Disorganisation. Chaos. Destruction. Madness.
Oh God, I know I make fun of the faithful all the time but, please help me no.
On the exterior he attempted to regain control of himself, despite this tempest raging inside of him. He tried to consider how the others would react to the idea.
Thal certainly wouldn't mind it.
True had plans with the Caldari man, and "four hundred thousand" sounded like a bribe if anything. Whatever True wanted to do in the matches, this would make things easier for him, because nothing spoke of entertainment like bigger, bloodier fights.
Jester didn't seem remotely interested in participating. This was one plus.
Galm surely would discard the idea as too deviant from the original plan, as the resulting aftermath of 'last man standing' could mean their plan would fail to be set in motion at all. But in his current state...
Vyzion gulped, and he could've sworn he felt the toothpick fall into his stomach acid and start dissolving as quickly as his hopes for things going smoothly.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.09 23:33:00 -
[102] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
GÇ£Easy there Fae-haan, this guyGÇÖs a promoterGǪfact heGÇÖs our promoter, and heGÇÖs on board about theGǪ..GÇ¥
Kador leaned in closer to the half-breed to whisper.
GÇ£The maaatch fixingGǪ.heGÇÖs on board for thatGǪ. Just the kind of guy I need to get my GÇ£equipmentGÇ¥ shipped in discretely.GÇ¥
"The maaaaaatch," Fae growled, "We don't need any match fixing. We can punch through this on our own, we don't need some promoter to do it."
He sat back down next to Morgan, wiping his hands swiftly against his linen napkin before diving back into his breakfast. He flashed his butter knife at the elderly Caldari, making a quick stabbing motion before turning back to his waffles. He shook his head and kept speaking, flashing a charming smile at the waiter in an attempt to difuse the situation,
"You want my advice Kador? Dump the grub in some trash can, you won't have to pay him for his services. Better yet, pay off a guard to flush him out an airlock. Less people who know the better... Save for you dollface, you know I'd never hurt you."
The waitress rolled her eyes, pouring Morgan his sixth cup of coffee.
"You're not the first immortal coming into the bar to talk ****," she breathed through a set of pursed lips, "Certainly not the first to come in with some doom driven plan. Just pay for the waffles and get the **** out before doing whatever you wanna do."
She was a jaded thing, her apron splattered with all manners of batter and beverages. Her hands were covered in scrapes and bruises, with thick tally mark scars running up her forearms. Her's was a common story on Snowfall. All was fine at a superficial glance, but broken and bloodied on the inside. In other words, she was Fae's people. He had a way with the people of Shoashu, and his reputation certainly didn't hurt. He knew he didn't have to worry about her saying anything to Grabarc's men.
Hunter Junko wrote:"but i hear that the next round of bouts is going to be a 'battle-royale' sort of match, Galm is that true?" she inquired, putting aside her pates and leaning towards the tables looking at her employer.
Fae spoke through a mouthful of food, nodding lightly while he watched the server disappear into the back.
"Yeah, so about that... The plan was to use start the plan during the preliminaries, but things got a bit out of hand yesterday. We're... We're working for Grabarc now. Or so he thinks anyway. Our 'team' is sponsored officially but Grabarc's men, just like my original contract on Snowfall. He takes forty percent of the winnings, and in exchange he'll give us a run of the station and a whole mess of fame. If we win this, he'll want to meet us personally to congratulate us. Penthouse suite, big parties, the he's going to pull out all the stops."
He rolls his eyes, turning around to face his comrades.
"The snake was always flashy like that. But we need to make sure we secure enough winnings to have us in the finals. You want to get that far, you need to survive. If you make don't make it that far, get ready. I'm going to have Morgan give you access to your military clone reserves in a cargo bay. Your equipment will be in a separate box, but frankly there should be enough hardware to loot in the hanger to keep you well armed. You can do that, right Wulver?"
The capsuleer nodded, polishing off yet another cup of coffee.
"Aye," he confirmed with slightly cybernetic voice, "Already done. I'll be heading out tonight to get Steadyhand off the station. Sooner or later the Guristas are going to come looking for him, and it's probably better off that he get out of here while he still can. I'll pick up something special for you that should help with shutting this place down."
"Good. Any of you need to load into a new body, I need you scouting the area and placing bombs. See what guard positions you can start to disable before strike tomorrow. Do it clean and quiet. No one can know we're here. Makoai is it? You do... Whatever it is you agreed to do. On top of that, I need eyes and ears inside the station. Marking targets, getting us reservations, and getting that wrist checked out. If your on our team then you might as well have a working arm. Are we all clear on what needs to get done."
"Clear," Morgan thundered, tossing a set of ISK chits on the counter. He stormed out, more in determination than anger without so much as saying goodbye.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
65
|
Posted - 2014.11.10 02:43:00 -
[103] - Quote
Jester silently observed the commotion from the comfort of his booth, only showing mild interest in what was happening. It wasnGÇÖt that what was happening was not interesting, he just could not emotionally invest himself into what was going on. The soldier had used up his stores of empathy and caring on Fae the day before. Given GalmGÇÖs current actions Jester was starting to regret his decision.
GÇ£Should'a just left him next to GansuGÇ¥
It was his own personal opinion on the matter, unfortunately the job required him alive and in a semi functional capacity. Jester was having a hard time determining if GalmGÇÖs actions were to the drugs, head trauma, or both. There was also the possibility that impulsive and confrontational was his base line. Noah was really hoping it was the drugs and head trauma.
When Vyzion applied the rather disgusting mash of chewed food to the mortals wound Noah couldnGÇÖt help but raise an eyebrow. It wasnGÇÖt like it was that difficult to get ice for the burn.
GÇ£Hey Doc, remind me, which backwater Matari school certified you?GÇ¥
Although his comment was meant in jest he was beginning to harbor doubts as to the legitimacy of their medic. Jester was just going to have to trust that Vyzion knew what he was doing when his life was on the line.
As the others greedily consumed their meals Jester absentmindedly swirled his mug of coffee counter clockwise. He had yet to take a sip from the mug, eliciting more than a few sneers of disgust from the waitress. Jester simply offered her a crooked grin whenever she passed by. If he had the emotional energy to sympathize with her he probably would have ordered a meal for her sake. As it was though the majority of his faculties were engaged with all of the potential problems they were soon to be facing.
The scale of the job, the weight that they bore should they find themselves successful. The pit fights themselves presented a unique challenge, and with the possibility of a free for all being announced it only made things more complicated. If what Junko said was true then the majority of their group presented problems. As a former champion Galm had a target on his back. Thal and Kador were both Templars, and as a result they were likely to be targeted as well. There was no shortage of mercs that disagreed with the Empire. Then there was Junko, she had managed to make quite an impression in her first round fight. Jesters first round fight on the other hand had been completely pedestrian. His match had taken place in the middle of the night. If one was to describe it nicely it would have been boring. He did not use any flashy speed or techniques, and he had taken his fair share of blows. His goal had been to make it to the next round without drawing attention to himself, he did not want to be remembered.
GÇ£If the second round really is going to be a giant cluster **** you two altar boys might want to watch your backs.GÇ¥
In addition to being generally disliked the Templars would probably have to deal with the fallout from the customs incident from the other day.
Jester still needed to finish gathering intel on the locations and patterns of the stations security forces. In addition to that he still needed to figure out the operating locations of the lesser gangs. When everything started to go to hell they could end up posing a considerable threat. The soldier was starting to wish there was a big red button he could just hit to vent the whole station and space everyone. Jester let out a heavy smoke filled sigh, things were only about to get more complicated.
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2520
|
Posted - 2014.11.10 12:52:00 -
[104] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
GÇ£Hey Doc, remind me, which backwater Matari school certified you?GÇ¥
Vyzion thought for a moment.
"If there was one I'd tell you about it. All I know, I know from the Valklears, and let me tell you, they don't give a **** about medics. Flawless victory, they demanded. Flawless. No losses, no injuries, no questions." Vyzion stared at the pancakes, his appetite gone now, eyes gazing but not seeing.
"They didn't even give me a damn first-aid kit, you know. I watched people get their limbs shredded in firefights. They just fought on until death took them or they bled out after the battle was won, believing their glorious end would take them to the halls of their forefathers. That's what they say, anyway. One look at their eyes and I knew they were just abso-****-lutely afraid of being left behind."
He blinked and frowned, and then started speaking a little faster, a little more flustered, than usual. His street slang, usually buried under a clear pronunciation and wide vocabulary from his reading, became a little more prominent.
"But no, you're right. I ain't got a fancy piece of paper. No actual doctor to my name. What I got? Natural remedies, past experience and observation, experiments on myself and others, a **** tonna assumptions based on eve more reading is what certified me. If I walked into a hospital looking for work they'd walk me right into the insanity ward. Honey and saliva though, 'terestingly enough, I've found to be-"
Vyzion was, to his immense relief, cut off from speaking any further as Galm turned at that moment.
The contractor reeled off the plan with no regard for those around them who may have had a reason to listen to their group. Either he really trusted this pancake eatery or he knew it was too late to stop the plan now that it was being set in motion. Vyzion didn't really care at that point. He let the words flow over him, resetting his focus, calming him.
Galm Fae wrote:Are we all clear on what needs to get done.
Vyzion nodded and rose from his chair, picking up one of the remaining plates of pancakes as he did so. He strolled over by the counter and dropped his own notes on top of Wulver's payment, and proceeded to leave without a word, raising a hand in farewell without looking back.
Too much, he had said too much. He wasn't the only one who had to deal with the endless life and the endless memories that came with it. Memories were anchors, anchors that held you down as the days rolled by, making time feel more real than ever. Time had long since lost any meaning, could not be allowed to have meaning, for these immortals. They had to live in an eternal present, and if they forgot it, if they let themselves believe for a moment that things would change, that immortality was progress rather than stasis, freedom rather than purgatory... insanity came swiftly.
But still he had let himself wander down that path, the path of memories they all had locked away inside, sometimes partially open, whether by themselves or triggered by events. The path that was his life, before this... this... existence. He had never distinguished the two before. After waking coughing in a clone vat the hundredth or thousandth time, never related them again.
Vyzion slid another toothpick out of his pocket, and stuck it between his teeth, exhaling. He hoped the others didn't mind his abrupt departure. If they ever bothered working with him again they'd get used to it. Teamwork was a vital factor in the warzone and he respected and enjoyed it, but he was never one to revel in the company of others for long. Awkward was an understatement. He felt out of his depth around many other clone soldiers, green and fresh-faced amongst the others. Immortality or death at the age of 25... it was a no-brainer when he made the choice.
And yet today was one of the days he couldn't help but wonder how different the two options had been. Blast it all, the medic thought as he walked. Clockwork Jester makes a comment on my methods, and now I'm walking around like I've been abandoned in a wormhole, in a city with a vitality that rivals Caille no less. Too damn sensitive, Vyz, and they all know it.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
14384
|
Posted - 2014.11.10 20:32:00 -
[105] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
GÇ£If the second round really is going to be a giant cluster **** you two altar boys might want to watch your backs.GÇ¥
Kador gave an indifferent shrug. As far as anyone on this station was aware, perhaps excluding Gabrac himself and his cronies, he was just an spoilt Amarrian Heir looking for a good time. Considering this he returned to drinking his coffee.
"HeGÇÖs sorry. ThatGÇÖs his sorry faceGǪ. Just keep quiet for now and maybe you'll get through this."
-Kador Ouryon
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Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
306
|
Posted - 2014.11.15 23:50:00 -
[106] - Quote
Hya'salia watched as the conversations ranged from suprise, lively, then downhill it went when Vyzion took offense to Jester's remark of him being a Doctor.
"Smart move, Jester" Hya'salia muttered under her breath as Vyzion got up and stormed out of the diner, leaving behind the money to pay for the pancakes. but it was to be expected.
immortality under her observations, was power; it can turn the humble into the greedy, the wise into the fool, the sane into insanity.
her thoughts then turned to her dream last night, the one of the mother.
who was she?
she stopped halfway into her 7th plate, set the silverware to the side and took a sip from the coffee, her mind now on overdrive.
'what did immortality did to me?' she asked herself in silent contemplation.
her first memory of her first days as an immortal were blurry. a haze, a fog covering up the road of memory lane. but the first thing she remembered was the pain. oh yes the pain. it was everywhere, physically and mentally even though she didnt have a body to call her own, she could feel the bones creaking under her weight, like she spent years with the proverbial **** kicked out of her. her mind was thinking. thinking too much; the first days were nothing but paranoia, never asleep, always jumped at the first thing she could hear. her heart sped up when she felt an imaginary threat, so much that she couldn't bear to step outside, back into the world before her.
and then came the tears, the raw truth, and the fact she was no longer human.
she once read that capsuleers had to meet specific requirements in order to undergo the transformation into what they are now. she shrugged it off as something she could never do, she never intended to become an immortal. it felt out of place, out of mind.
but when her friend, Issac told her that a whole year of her life was gone, that she suddenly "could not die". that her original body was destroyed during the attack, that she simply broke down,crying for days. to took her a long time for her to accept that , going well past the battle of Caldari Prime.
she never wanted to be immortal, yet here she was..
'but you did alot of good while you were immortal, and you'll continue to do good so long as you have this drive; Little Hya'salia.' a voice replied from within the memory of conciousness.
she felt a tear forming under her eye, but she brushed it off before anyone noticed. then she stood up, and laid down a few isk notes to pay for her meals, as well as a tip for the waitress. before leaving she nodded to the others, especially Thal and said.
"well i'll see you at the arena" she said, and then she walked away
She hadn't expected Jester's words to sting so much, and she definitely didn't want them to see either |
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
14720
|
Posted - 2014.11.17 21:19:00 -
[107] - Quote
Galm Fae wrote:
"Good. Any of you need to load into a new body, I need you scouting the area and placing bombs. See what guard positions you can start to disable before strike tomorrow. Do it clean and quiet. No one can know we're here. Makoai is it? You do... Whatever it is you agreed to do. On top of that, I need eyes and ears inside the station. Marking targets, getting us reservations, and getting that wrist checked out. If your on our team then you might as well have a working arm. Are we all clear on what needs to get done."
The Amarrian listened to the briefing in silence, still sipping form the dark, murky liquid caffeine relishing its bitter taste and rejuvenating influence.
Despite the fact that he'd actually enjoyed himself, and one of his operations for the first time in a very long time, and despite the fact that he secretly felt no desire to be party to acts that would wreak havoc on the citizenry, he was unable to ignore the culmination of years of desert warfare.
Security forces strong points and barracks were already very apparent to him his eyes having picked up with relative ease where the uniformed security forces congregated at regular intervals throughout the day following their designated patrols or to have a smoke in peace. moreover Kador had identified several brothels and night clubs where he determined and disproportionate number of station personnel frequented which if required could be brought down quickly enough leaving few survivors.
Still the though sickened him.
Templar soldier were forged to serve God with iron will and to strike with impunity at his foes beneath the heavens..... they were not made to murder the innocent, even the godless and lost were not deserving on such ignominious death without first being offered the gifts of the Faith.
He drained the last dregs of his coffee as Vysion rose to leave and at the counter. Kador followed suit, nodding to Makoai to follow, who sprung up with a sudden gaiety wincing as he did so, thrilled to be leaving.
They approached the counter to pay, but the waitress just shook her head, mumbling something in Nanpali about the coffee being on the house after Makoai loudly mentioned he was a Pit Fighter about to enter his preliminary fights.
They followed Vysion swiftly as he cut his own path deeply lost in through. Eventually he seemed to break his own reverie, drawing a toothpick from his pocket and slipping it into what Kador assumed was an oddly familiar position.
"Doctor! Uh...Vysion!" He called out casually hailing the Gallentean with a sharp gesture. " Well met this morning.... I was wondering if I could ask a favour?"
"HeGÇÖs sorry. ThatGÇÖs his sorry faceGǪ. Just keep quiet for now and maybe you'll get through this."
-Kador Ouryon
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2530
|
Posted - 2014.11.17 23:20:00 -
[108] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
"Doctor! Uh...Vysion!" He called out casually hailing the Gallentean with a sharp gesture. " Well met this morning.... I was wondering if I could ask a favour?"
Vyzion turned, surprised. There stood Kador Ouryon with Makoai, the latter's hand still slathered in his 'natural remedy'. He stared at that dripping tissue for a moment, then turned back to the Templar, frowning slightly, toothpick pointing downwards.
The Templar asked for a favour. It was funny, that. You'd think favours between immortals would be swiftly forgotten. But no, they're remembered all the more compared to mortal favours. Their lives are too short to worry about getting even. Here, in the unending twilight realm of immortality, it was an eternity of seeking inner peace, inner balance.
A favour, something so trivial in their previous lives, something they could repay in an instant, with a gesture of good-will or a simple, free meal. It warped into something else when time lost all meaning, into a way to keep track of time. When did this guy ask me for a favour? How many days has it been since then? How many favours do I have currently? Significant events created a timeline of the past for the immortal, not dates, or day/night cycles, artificial or otherwise. And favours, they were like the numbers of the months. Small, insignificant, and yet sometimes they become so important it was incredible how they felt so humdrum before. Today could be someone's birthday; the day of the month suddenly becomes the focus of their entire being. So too, can a favour suddenly become as vital, if an immortal finds himself on a battlefield at risk of failing a contract that could make or break his career.
So they were remembered, and remembered well. The day where favours are traded became brighter, a pinprick of starlight in the eternal void of their lives which didn't seem to follow the normal flow of time but instead just expanded, and expanded, a dark seething bubble of blackness that consumed everything, leaving darkness behind. Favours gave light, gave form to this void.
Of course, there were different degrees of light. Some favours were certainly less critical than others, indeed, it could boil down to a free meal here and there. Ohers held more weight behind them, perhaps the disposal of a body. But when their lives extended into the unknown future, so far ahead of them they could not even consider the consideration of a possibility of knowing that far into the future, who knew when a single meal could enable a chain of events to be set in motion, events that could lead to the fall of empires.
He looked Templay Ouryon in the eyes and spoke between his teeth, keeping a firm clamp on his toothpick. "Sure. Fire away."
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
350
|
Posted - 2014.11.22 07:13:00 -
[109] - Quote
Galm eyed the mercenaries one by one, each one doubtlessly suited to the task ahead of them. He wouldnGÇÖt have selected them otherwise. Granted, their individual skill and expertise was highly valued but above all he valued their sheer willingness as a collective to bring Snowfall crashing down. Thal was a Templar through and through, and he had already convinced Kador to see this mission through for better or worse. HyaGÇÖsalia was a troublesome case however. On one hand she seemed far more humane than her counterparts, a trait that could easily jeopardize the entire mission. On the other, she was easily manipulated and carried an air of fatalistic gloom that let Fae know she had already decided in her mind to comply with whatever was ordered of her. HeGÇÖd almost pity the woman, if he had the luxury to do so.
Noah was a separate beast entirely. He was experienced, and seemed to be better equipped to the pirate lifestyle than any of the soldiers there with the exception of maybe Fae himself. He was always so analytic, constantly calculating methods of taking control of a situation as soon as a problem presented itself and not a minute before it became opportune to do so. It was unsettling to observe, but had already proven its worth at least twice so far. The man had seen to GalmGÇÖs safety the night before, and proven his dedication when he executed Gansu. He was a valuable member to the team, but he wondered exactly how much of a loose end heGÇÖd play in the future.
Vyzion remained a mystery. He seemed a caring man, a trait that would be nothing but a hindrance once the bombs began to go off across the station. Still, he had volunteered willingly to have his own explosives placed inside his body. Fae occasionally saw the odd twitch the man gave, the minor neurotic behaviors that he found typical in a soldier who had GÇÿgone five-one-fourGÇÖ as empyreans often called it. Sooner or later every immortal soldier came to it. Where capsuleers so often suffered a gradual moral and emotional erosion overtime, GalmGÇÖs particular flavor of immortality was prone to sporadic fits of stress-induced dementia. While the muted insanity that has comrades seemed to experience were minor symptoms compared to the unexplained schizophrenic breakdown of first-generation soldiers, it was still enough to inherit the name from psychological evaluations from years past. The two soldiers shared a mutual bond of madness, and that was enough for Pixy to trust him to complete his assignment.
Pixy grunted in amusement at the thought, tossing a series of ISK chits onto the counter as he made his way out of the waffle house. He lifted his hat slightly as he pushed through the door, tipping at the mercenaries as he proceeded out the door. The walk through the streets of Snowfall seemed short in comparison to the rather lengthy and awkward breakfast. He paused at a street corner for a moment on the way there, nodding his head to the tune of a nearby street performer as she strummed away at her guitar. A damp cardboard sign written in running marker played out her woes as masterfully as the lyrics to the song that she shared with the inattentive masses. As he stood there, shelling out an obscene amount of chits to the stupefied woman Galm could only think back to his fellow soldiers.
He pondered silently why some went mad while others continued intact. Had some simply not reached that point yet? Where others just better at hiding it? Did the answer to either really change anything? Everyone in Snowfall used to have a particular image played up whenever someone said the name Pixy, but almost universally it had something to do with some doped-up-halfbreed-immortal-Dragonaur-wash-out doing gods-know-what to spirits-who-cares. It was hard trying to remember who he was then, and it frightened him that he may not be able to live up to the image of destruction that GÇ£PixyGÇ¥ (ironically enough) had become associated with. He had selected his team so carefully, but more than anything he was afraid heGÇÖd be the one to fail before anyone else.
Lost in thought, the remaining walk to The Pits was considerably shorter than he had anticipated. Before he had any time to truly steel himself, he found himself standing at the steps in front of a massive public gathering between corroded chain link fencing. Massive screens above displayed highlight reels from the evening before, flashing between several sets of familiar faces Galm at met at one point or another. In the distance, bass thundered through a series of drum beats as the opening evens began of the daily session.
WellGǪ Not that the games ever truly ended on Snowfall. If anything it was just one big long halftime as immortals took a momentary pause in the action to pull themselves together and blow the money that had just earned for yet another night of brawling. It was a charmed life, keeping you just entertained enough to ignore your own downward spiral of addiction.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
350
|
Posted - 2014.11.22 07:15:00 -
[110] - Quote
"**** hot!GÇ¥ an oddly jarring voice hollered above the crowd, GÇ£Is th--GǪ Yeah, yeah, thatGÇÖs Galm Fae! Hey guys, thatGÇÖs Galm! PixyGÇÖs here yGÇÖall!GÇ¥
Oh gods no. Please, no, anything but these annoying station rats.
There was a piecing shriek of five or six different voices, then a small mob of young women and wanna-be pirate flushed themselves out of the woodwork in a huge circle around the immortal.
No! No! Anything but station rats and groupies!
He began to sulk as more and more onlookers gathered around him, each hoping to snap a new picture of the man or get his attention in any way.
GÇ£Pixy! Pixy! You owe me 600 ISK *******! You were suppose to go ten rounds! Ten rounds!GÇ¥
GÇ£EyGÇÖer! Boy! YGÇÖgna fight today? MGÇÖlas aGÇÖhas thinGÇÖ for yaGÇÖ! YGÇÖwouldnGÇÖt mind if you shag GÇÿer while I watch? GÇÿEr idea! Not mine!GÇ¥
GÇ£What the hell kind of a name is Pixy anyway, eh?GÇ¥
GÇ£IGÇÖve heard all of these you unimaginative twats,GÇ¥ Galm spat, pushing through two or three different people before pausing momentarily, GÇ£EhGǪ Except the cuckold thing that wasGǪ Creative, IGÇÖll give you that.GÇ¥
He pressed on, plowing through several more sets of fans until one threw herself onto him as she clung to his shirt. He meant to deflect her off gently, but instead sent himself crashing to the ground with her on top of him. The two rolled around on the dirty concrete for some time has he kept squirming around to find a way out from under the clearly intoxicated spectator. The crowd continued to grow as he twisted and swore, before eventually dispersing as a crew of armed Guristas encircled the two. No less than three gunmen pulled the woman off the ground and escorted her away as another pulled the mercenary to his feet.
GÇ£Shite,GÇ¥ he barked through a tightly wrapped scarf below a set of dirty goggles, GÇ£Looked that that one cGÇÖanny keep her hands off yaGÇÖ, amGÇÖIGÇÖright?GÇ¥
GÇ£Yeah,GÇ¥ Pixy breathed, knocking the dirt off his jacket, GÇ£Sorry, weGÇÖve met before havenGÇÖt we?GÇ¥
GÇ£Aye. I checked you at the gate when your pet Templar had his little **** fit. Folks round here call me Charlie. IGÇÖve been assigned to your personal security detail, Grabarcs orders.GÇ¥
GÇ£Security detail?GÇ¥
GÇ£YesGÇÖsir,GÇ¥ he huffed with a nod, GÇ£Some damn poor bloke turned up dead in a nearby club last night. Boss wants to make sure that his lads are well taken care of seeinGÇÖ how dangerous the streets are.GÇ¥
GÇ£Sure, sure, now that IGÇÖm back on them.GÇ¥
GÇ£Well yeahGǪ But IGÇÖm being payed to pretend that I donGÇÖt know that and that I didnGÇÖt hear nothinGÇÖ from you just now. Now cGÇÖmon cowboy, we gotta get yGÇÖcleaned up for the first act. YouGÇÖre the opening act today.GÇ¥
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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|
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Thal Vadam
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
41
|
Posted - 2014.11.22 17:58:00 -
[111] - Quote
Thal placed his payment down on the table and got up from the booth. He nodded to the waitress and exited the dinner. The crowds were starting to move towards the arena, signaling the day's events were about to begin. Thal didn't have time to wade through the sea of people, so he walked behind the diner and looked up the very large building next to it. He leaped up and grabbed a hold of a very low hanging mantinince ladder and started to climb. As he climbed, his thoughts turned to Junko. She had such great potential as a fighter, an inherent spirit and strength he hadn't felt since he himself was learning the martial arts. He wanted to know more about her, and for him, that meant fighting her again.
Thal also thought about Galm Fae, the man leading the operation. Thal was determined to fight him, an immortal almost equal to himself in combat prowess. The two WOULD meet in battle oneday. If not on the station then somewhere else, but in Thal's mind the two were destined to fight.
Thal reached the top of the building, and saw the arena not to far away. He began jumping across the short gaps In between the structures. After a few minutes, he reached the arena and made the climb down. As he turned, he fell back in surprise at what he saw. Clara was standing there wide eyed and smiling at him.
"Hey there cutie" she said mischievously
"How do you keep finding me? Why are you here?" Thal asked her a little red in the face.
"Well, I know this station like the back of my hand, and it's not often I see a man jumping across the rooftops. As to why I'm here, well I came to watch my man fight"
Thal looked at her in astonishment. Who was she? What did she see in him? He was faltered someone cared for him so much, but he did not return her feelings.
She giggled "That's you silly" She walked up to Thal and wrapped her arms around him, and once again kissed him, this one more passionate then ever. She winked at him. "Good luck out there" She turned around and ran into the crowds. Thal stood there for a moment in confusion, but quickly shrugged it off and walked into the crowds, searching for Junko.
"I am your instrument my Lord, point me to the foes of our Empire." Thal's prayer after becoming a Immortal
|
Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
316
|
Posted - 2014.12.01 05:56:00 -
[112] - Quote
after her break of her facade, she gathered to the arena once again. at the fighters pits.
'soon... soon its going to start' Hya'salia thought to herself as she sat there, arranging her hair back into a ponytail. earlier she had just taken another shower, as she could had a cathartic effect on her being. it helped, not by alot but it was enough for her to pull herself together. she wasnt too worried about others entering the fighter's preparations room, so she had taken advantage of that. if anyone came in well.. she would figure that one out when it happened.
she gathered her hair together and wrapped the small hairband around it, making the ponytail at last, as a drone came into the shower room with a folded pile of clothing.
"Hya'salia, your clothes have been clean and ready" it said, she turned and looked at it with a small nod.
"can you place it on my cot please?" she asked, to which the drone made a small chirp and turned around
"as you wish" |
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
15397
|
Posted - 2014.12.03 22:00:00 -
[113] - Quote
Vyzion Eyri wrote:
He looked Templay Ouryon in the eyes and spoke between his teeth, keeping a firm clamp on his toothpick. "Sure. Fire away."
Kador let out a sigh of relief, which was echoed but the quietly sobbing Makoai behind him, still cradling his inflamed arm, valiantly trying to push back mewls at the pain colouring his ruddy face with a look of deep concentration. His expression was pathetic small tears rolled down the sides of his cheeks every time a jolt of pain ran down his arm, his sniffling punctuated by heavy breathing.
They'd stopped at the edge of what looked like an small dank alleyway between two tightly pressed together buildings, a canopy of steaming pipe works and industrial wiring stretched over them interwoven into a vast lattice, while below the filth of industrial run off mingled with condensation, and Fedo **** leaving a pungent scent to waft across the mouth of the alley and out onto the street.
He wrinkled his nose instinctively. Prior to arriving on Shoashu Sasaanko he doubted he'd ever smelt something quite for vile on a civilian station, even one so far removed from the Imperial Centre such as the Mandate or Devoid.
He carefully stepped around a river of the filth so as not to dirty his boots any more than they already were, grunting harshly as this exhorted a snigger out of Makoai, and approached their medic.
So far so good, he considered, was not expecting him to acquiesce so easily.
He propped himself up against the building wall, facing Vysion, leaning back into the reassuringly solid structure, appreciating how cool it was. As it was humbling himself before another one of his peers was not something Kador found easy to do.
"Makoai needs someone to look at his wrist. I can appreciate the Galm doesn't like the man.....that's fine..... but I need him on this one. Unlike the rest of you who can smuggle your stuff in easily I can't. To get what I need I need him willing to work for me." He explained quickly, stumbling over some of the words.
"Just for the record" the elderly Caldarian cut in, grunting painfully. " All you asked me to do was promote you..... y-y said nothin' bout no targets or fuckin' psychopath mercenaries.... so i-"
The Templar sucked in air testily, marvelling at how it whistles against his teeth and silenced the man instantly.
"You'd be a fool to think I was paying you what I am for nothing more than promoting. You'll do as I say, when I say, and get your reward when I deem that you have sufficiently carried out your duty. You do understand that word Makoai...duty...."
Makoai recoiled as if stung, an interesting mix of physical pain, emotional hurt, and indignation marring his face. He looked vulnerable. Kador capitalised on that and continued.
"If you don't I might take Galm's advice. So close your mouth, you will need all the charm you possess today. Don't bother wasting it on me."
He turned back to Vysion and shrugged. Calling Makaoi to heel was no more difficult than dealing with a finicky Slaver.
"So if you have time would you see to him? My matches begin soon and I believe he has work to do...besides.... regardless of whether or not like the man he is mortal and he did not deserve that."
I said, "Empress, I do this, I thought that you knew this.
Can't stand non-believers and honest, the truth is...
|
Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2539
|
Posted - 2014.12.08 05:35:00 -
[114] - Quote
Vyzion looked with apprehension at the Caldarian beside True, but then suddenly he grinned.
His jawbone creaked in protest as it stretched rapidly from ear-to-ear. It was a certainly a smile, yet it could've been described as an upside-down frown. His eyes were cold and emotionless, his face unreadable except for that strange smile, a disfiguration that ruptured his face, leaving a white, cracked crevice across it.
It was over in an instant. In that instant, everything clicked into place for the mercenary, and he knew exactly what had to be done.
"Sure, I'll take Makaoi."
With that, he grabbed the promoter by his injured hand, still soaked in honey, causing the man to yelp. Then he walked off towards the clinic, dragging the protesting Caldarian behind him. As he stormed through the concrete station, the crowds and faces seemed blurred to him. Things rushed through his head madly, thoughts scrabbling over one another, vying for the attention of his brain, words chased each other before his eyes, memories flashed.
Amidst the chaos in his head, though, there was a faint tune playing in his head, the same one he had sung in the clinic.
***
Vyzion stood outside the clinic, no longer holding onto Makaoi, not even aware of the other man's presence. He stared at the filthy clinic exterior... stared at the fresh graffiti on those walls... the holes that were windows... and the smoke pouring from them. Black, putrid smoke that rose like the trunk of a tree from hell, spreading into a wide plume as it reached the limits of the station dome.
Slowly, the medic walked towards the building. At the entrance, a crowd of people were watching, silent and unmoving. The whole street was silent, no noise came from anything, not even the clinic. The roar of the fire, it's crackling laugh, taunted Vyzion.
He walked past the spectators, straight up to the front door, and opened it.
The inferno inside blasted him, hot as a furnace, but he walked in nevertheless. His eyes saw it all, from the burning mattresses, to the burnt and charred corpses on top of them. Not one patient had managed to escape. He counted them all as he walked down the center aisle between the beds, just like he had counted each one the previous night. He saw through the burns of some, saw bruises that were not there before.
He bent over and picked up a few ends of burning rope. Rope that had not been in the clinic before. They were sticky to the touch. Some sort of flammable compound, the medic guessed. He clenched his fists. Defenseless. They were defenseless.
He reached the back of the room and walked upstairs, following the smoke. The door was smashed open, and hung on a single hinge, broken. He approached the temperature regulator now, and calmly studying its functions as the smoke swirled around him. There was a pressure adjuster just as he had expected. This upstairs room was a quarantine area to isolate patients in dangerous states or have contagious diseases. He turned the pressure far into the negative range. An exhaust fan above his head hummed to life as he dragged the door back into place, and sealed the gaps around it with lab coats.
The smoke cleared, and Vyzion stared at the scene before him. The room was as destroyed as always, and there were no signs of the fire reaching this area yet. However, there was one grisly addition. Leena lay on the floor in the center of the room, naked and beaten. He walked over and gingerly checked her pulse. It was gone; her pale face suggested she died unable to breathe through the smoke. She had, he also noted, been sexually violated.
He grit his teeth in anger, crushing the toothpick in his mouth into a fine powder, mushing it into a paste with his teeth. Then he spat the mixture into his hands, and applied death marks to the woman's still face, something a Vherokior mystic he once knew told him would guide the deceased's spirit to their ancestors.
As he worked he noticed Leena had fallen with both arms outstretched. He glanced to where she had been reaching: an open cupboard. The medic got up, walked over to it, reached out a hand... and opened it. Lying at the base was Ritae, curled in a ball, almost as still as the other. The medic put a hand on her shoulder and shook slightly. The girl opened her eyes... and screamed when she saw his face inches from hers, throwing herself against the back of the cupboard. Vyzion backed off, hands raised.
"It's me," he coughed. "It's me."
***
Makaoi's jaw dropped when he saw Vyzion walk out again with a girl slung over his back. The mercenary's clothes had been badly burnt and hung in tatters on him; the only sign he was wearing a lab coat before were patches of white cloth on his shoulders. His hair was charred, and his eyebrows were singed. His exposed skin was red and raw and in some parts, crisp. His hands dripped with some strange paste. The girl looked to be in a much better condition, but was coughing up blood, thin wisps of smoke escaping from her lungs as she did.
The curious thing was that despite the fire burning behind Vyzion, Makaoi could not turn his eyes away from the mercenary... and the fire in his eyes.
Vyzion walked until he was right next to Makaoi, and spoke softly. "You're going to take this girl and return home. You're going to stay there until I come for you. Understand?"
"What the h-"
"Do you have a family?"
"Why does th-"
"DO YOU HAVE A FAMILY?!" Vyzion turned his bloodshot eyes onto Makaoi.
"Yes..." The man replied haplessly.
"Then for their sake, follow my instructions."
As the Caldarian hurried off, Vyzion turned back to the clinic as the fire finished off the mattresses and extinguished itself. He watched until the last curls of smoke escaped from the windows. Then he went back inside.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
353
|
Posted - 2014.12.10 07:54:00 -
[115] - Quote
The staging area was perhaps one of the only remaining areas of Snowfall that clung to its heritage as a formal Caldari outpost. The zone was forged of cold steel, cutting away into a series of corridors and passageways that lead between armories, medbays, and aging barracks used to accommodate soldiers in between brief, violent skirmishes in front of the masses. The deep, heavy bass from outside of the compound still resonated through the building though it was muffled with a certain solemn atmosphere. As Pixy weaved through the passages with his armed escorts he occasional made eye contact with one or two fighters before breaking away and moving along. All of them remained tense, though not all of them displayed that fact in the same fashion. Some puffed madly at ridiculous amounts of cigarettes as others cranked out endless repetitions of calisthenic workouts before their next match. The crowd of gladiators parted and flowed around Charlie and his mercenaries as Galm drew closer to the heart of the facility. Fae grinned for a brief moment, unsure if his competition was sizing him up or merely confirming what they were seeing unfold.
"I'm guessing not everyone gets their own escort service?" Pixy ventured, sliding around a corner and finally coming to a stop in a small personal locker room. Charlie scoffed, slamming the door shut behind them as he set down his weapon and began to unroll his scarf.
"Mate, words getting around that the Pixy is back in town. Some folks seem to think you made Grabarc pretty nervous with that whole display going through customs yesterday."
"You think escorting me in with five Guristas is going to defuse that tension?"
The four other guards laughed among themselves, exchanging dirty looks as they all eyed the immortal before them.
"The opposite," Charlie corrected, "We want to make you look like a mad dog that Grabarc can turn lose whenever he needs. It's good for the show, good for profits, and when you win all of this and have a grand time celebrating with all the toasts of the town it's going to look good for Zipang too. We're giving you a roll, and he expects you to play it. You need to be damn savage out there."
Galm nodded his head, pondering the implications as Charlie removed the last of his headgear. The man was of ambiguous ethnicity, with multiple odd runic symbols branded into fleshy neck. His face, while marvelously chiseled, bore more than a fair amount scar tissue that seemed to hold his handsome features together. He slung his submachine gun over his shoulder and let it hang there once more, the lime green paint scheme standing out against the greyscale barracks.
"It's like this," Charlie continued, pointing his gun for emphasis, "That surge out there? All those immortals looking at you? Some might have seen that as them smelling blood in the water. You know what I saw out there Caldari? I saw a mako coming, and all the little fish keeping their distance but eager to see which one of them you swallow up first."
The analogy had a certain charm, forcing the soldier to nod his head slightly before nodding slowly. From there, Galm began the process of readying himself. Sinking back into his warm-up routine was easy, even with the multiple guards keeping close tabs on every little movement he made. Before stripping down, he carefully tucked his bomb vest away in a locker and sealed it away behind biometric padlock. It was difficult to steady his breath long enough to avoid suspicion as he locked the explosives away and began to change into a set of close provided by Grabarc's men. His thoughts lingered on it as he pulled the shirt over his head, contemplating if the locker would contain enough oxygen to ignite the congealed incendiaries. As long as the inital ignition was powerful enough it would easy have the explosive and thermal potential to rip through every corner of the empyrian bunker beneath the pits by spreading through ventilation systems and corridors. Once the weapon achieved enough energy to initiate an omnidirectional thermal pulse, there wouldn't be much stopping the bloody thing.
A sharp pain stabbed into Fae's forearm, causing him to shake it off violently and send one of the guards stumbling to the floor with a hypodermic needle.
"Charlie, what the ****? What did he just inject in me?"
"Be cool, be cool Caldari," he laughed, signaling his men not to raise their weapons, "Just a little something to take the edge off. Figured you needed it. A bit o' nanites, bit o' biofoam, tiny bit of Crash... S'all good, eh?"
"No, not s'all good you little roach!" Fae barked, "The hell kind of back-planet indigenous shithole did you climb out of to think that's custom!"
"Gotta come from somewhere mate," the tribal laughed, "I can damn well tell you the Guristas gave me a better life than the State woulda, so just lighten up a bit and let me do my job. Grabarc wants you to have an edge out there."
The thought finally occured to Galm that Charlie was no 'Charlie' at all. There were plenty of rumors about men like him across the cluster, of native populations displaced by Caldari corporate expansion in the wake of heavy industry. Those that weren't crush by bulldozers trying to defend their homeland usually ended up finding a life wherever they could, often at the cost of their own cultural identity. That being said, 'Charlie' still seemed like a pretty **** poor name to settle on if he wanted help fitting in with a bunch of Caldari pirates. The two stood there momentarily at a standoff before a buzz on the Gurista's datapad.
"Shite," he groaned, flicking through his messages once he pulled it from his pocket, "Me and my boys need to leave for a bit, something about trouble at the hospital. Think you can handle yourself for a bit?"
"Oh, I think I can manage."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
16203
|
Posted - 2014.12.22 04:49:00 -
[116] - Quote
Reserved
*"He spoke, and we made it so all worlds were one, all peoples were one, all faiths, creeds, and nationalities were one.
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
362
|
Posted - 2015.02.01 08:06:00 -
[117] - Quote
The walkway was a dangerous place to be. Between the thundering applause and the flash of the lights all of your inner resolve was washed out, leaving nothing but the physical character left to play for the masses. Galm enjoyed his last few seconds of silence in the darkened staging area before the doors swung open before him, giving way to a walkway rising above a pit of cheering spectators. The heat lamps snapped to him as a series of strobes fired off like neurons one after the other down the line. Galm took a deep breath and ran his hair to one side as he pressed forward into the storm. He cast his gaze blindly through the crowd, his vision incapable of adjusting to match the eyes of those staring back at him. He paused for a moment, staring at the image of himself on the overhead projector as the sound system began blasting the opening bars of a familiar but distant song. His Templis Dragonaur tattoo was still etched into his tight core, and the cauterized branding of the Guitarists emblem sat on his left shoulder. The announcer began to thunder over the microphone as meaningless stats began to roll down the screen one after the other, all pertaining to his past life and victories.
"Ladies and gentle,for the first time this fighting season we are gathered here to see Galm 'Pixy' Fae in the gladiator pits. The last time Fae was here the pits were little more than a side project to keep the surge of immortal refugees busy, but few doubt that the man we are about to watch here today was esential in building the sport to what it is now."
Galm snorted at the thought, pulling himself into the arena and slamming his body against the corner as sweat began to pour down his face. The music had become deafening, pouring into his soul with every riff. It was dirty, grungy bass pumped punk rock that brought back more than a few memories that, while under normal circumstances would have been uncomfortable to uncover, felt oddly liberating to let break free for a moment. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing synchronized with the rhythm, silently recalling the lyrics. Just as the acoustic bass began to morph into an electric synth, Galm's first challenger made his way in the stadium
The man had a pension for flare, with a mouth full of tasteless gold teeth and several large chains that circled around his throat. As another score of fans thundered in approval he threw his arms madly into the air, barking like an animal as he drew closer. His camouflaged cargo pants dangled lazily around his waist, a set of useless suspenders dragged helplessly behind him. The announcer began to speak again, the surround music taking on a different tone entirely.
"And now for our second competitor mister Alec Wynn. Affectionately named 'Warlock' for his talents, it looks like Fae might have his work cut out for him. I've heard a lot of people around the station question if Pixy has what it takes to clash with figures like Warlock in a modern death match. Back in Pixy's day there were was less structure but fewer established tactics that modern fighters know of. Warlocks speed will certain be one of those critical x-factors that will prove whether or not Galm has still has the ability to adapt and become a true player in our current tournament matches."
The banter was mildly concerning but thankful whatever context they bore were lost on Pixy. Fighting was fighting, and he had little doubt that much could change in only a handful of years. When the bell finally rang however, it all became abundantly clear that something was amiss. Warlock lashed out immediately, body slamming into Fae before following up with a series of overly dramatic windmill punches. Pixy flinched at first, coiling back into the ropes totally bewildered as he tried to compute just exactly what the hell Wynn was trying to do. Pixy pushed back lightly, if only to eliminate as much skin contact with the man as he could as each windmill punch landed heavily on his laterals. Pulling back from the shove, Warlock began a series of ducks and weaves as his hand moved in a series of confusing patterns that more closely resembled a street performer than a trained pit fighter.
"What am I even looking at!?" Galm shouted in frustration just before a punch glanced across his jaw.
"S'why I'm the Warlock man!" Wynn hollered, releasing another volley of blows across Pixy's collar, "I've got the magic hands! What, no one ever show you this in the p--"
The pit gave a collective gasp as Pixy grinned his teeth together and threw his head forward to make direct contact Wynn's nose. As the man began to fly backwards Fae grabbed hold of his gold chain, pulling him back in for yet another headbutt in exactly the same location. The man fell backwards again before Galm pulled him back in one last time, taking a large bite out of Warlock's ear and letting him stumble back center stage. The entire scene took maybe five seconds, counting a short two second pause were Pixy stood there casually with the ear hanging from his lips before spitting it in the general direction of the 'splatter zone.' He heard the distant sound of a single man vomit, then the confused commentary of the referee.
"It... Would appear that Pixy has just eaten a part of Warlock's ear. While certainly not unheard of in the context of a battle to the death this is rather... Unorthodox."
Warlock rose to his feet, slightly unsteady as he looked Galm square in the eye.
"You batshit crazy ************! What even are you! Who the hell does that! I'm trying to put on a gods damn show here for my fans!"
Several minutes later what was left of Wynn was lying in a broken heap, the scent of his blood filling the room as spectators took care to harvest possible 'souvenirs' that Pixy had left behind. It may have been his first match, but word was already being to spread that the Dragonaur had returned.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
16916
|
Posted - 2015.02.02 00:19:00 -
[118] - Quote
Kador revelled in the sense of freedom he felt as Vysion led the fat Caldari man away towards the medical wards. It was an exquisite thing he considered passing between the overhanging eaves of a squalid looking street composed entirely of rusted steel girders ignoring the slight squelch his boots made as he crossed a large puddle of industrial run off.
Prevising their GÇ£doctorGÇ¥ could see to the ageing man he might even be able to hold up his end of their business transaction before the preliminary rounds of the contest, perhaps even giving Kador enough pull with those in charge of the event to requisition a docking pass for his assets.
Kador took on a purposeful stride, making his way swiftly towards the Pit using the most direct methods he knew from the short time he had spent on the station, pushing his way between the pedestrians offing low grunts of admission if he disturbed them.
As before he was struck again by a certain dissonance as masses of paying customers packed into the lines to watch men and women beat each other to death in violent contests of strength. The concept was so foreign to him, yet similar to other things he understood about his own people, yet was senseless and turned to the sake of entertainment and sport.
He ignored the line, pressing his way forwards ignoring cries of displeasure of the seething lines, and though into the Pit where upon he was immediately confronted by two of GabracGÇÖs thugs, one who looked to be the fattest, and least intelligent human being Kador had ever come across, and the other the sleazy looking bastard from the night before.
Before the Amarrian could say a word the fat one wrapped his thick fingers around his neck and roughly shoved him towards the exit as the other cackled roughly.
GÇ£Leave the poor bastard alone BruteGǪ.heGǪ.ahahaGǪheGÇÖs got a date in the Pits with the other.GÇ¥ He straightened abruptly into an overly dramatic bow. GÇ£But this oneGÇÖs off limits Brute olGÇÖbuddy one of them lordly, self-righteous, overly frustrated types yGÇÖknow. Put GÇÿim down.GÇ¥
The one called Brute did as he was told with a grunt of disappointment then oddly bowed his head with a genuine, albeit simple, respect that didnGÇÖt really understand what was going one.
Kador stood back up, rubbing at his neck where the other man had held him in a vice like grip, grimacing and breathing heavily.
GǣThanksGǪ.. I guess. Which way to thGǪ..Gǥ
GÇ£You get an ass last night Lordship?GÇ¥ The sleazy thug cut him off with a knowing grin, forming a circle with his finger and moving the index finger of his other hand in a rude manner. GÇ£Since you turned down GabracGÇÖs off I assumed you found that even the flop houses have GÇÿhoresGǪGǪ just wonderinGÇÖ if you got that stick out yerGÇÖ arse?GÇ¥
GÇ£**** off.GÇ¥ Kador, sternly this time. GÇ¥Just tell me where the pox ridden changing rooms are.GÇ¥
The sleazy bastard just shrugged, unwilling to talk and altogether amused greatly by the situation and KadorGÇÖs sour disposition, however his partner simply pointed off down one of the halls opposite where the crowds were entering.
He nodded his thanks and made for the gate passing into one of the halls and following directions down into the changing rooms.
He eyed competitors warily as he entered, passing between all manner of scum, psychopath, and desperate gutter trash, grabbed a small pack out of a locker with his name on it, and took a seat by himself in a small alcove by the filthy showers. as he passed by he could not help but notice the sheer number of tattooGÇÖs many of them wore, most on the arms and face, one even had full body tattooGÇÖs covering the GÇ£entiretyGÇ¥ of his exposed skin.
He changed into the contents of the pack without question, a pair of capped boots, a tight fitting sleeveless shirt, and some simple mid length cargo pants with the loops and pockets removed as if some old Caldari bastard hadnGÇÖt had time and used a pocket knife.
It hand become immediately apparent his own clothing would be more a hindrance than anything else, and quite frankly was sick of the lack of respect it cultured.
The roar of the crowds was definitely audible from the changing rooms. It rose in climax every now and then punctuated by undulating gasps and chants from the blood hungry spectators.
It wasnGÇÖt long before his own turn came and his world became a blur of light and noise.
If someone had drugged him Kador didnGÇÖt know when, or where, or howGǪ.but under the heavy glare of the arenaGÇÖs lighting he was already slick with sweat and his shirt stuck to him in an unpleasant manner, the zip almost half undone by his heavy breaths.
He remembers the roar of the crowd as the last match was finished, he also remembered seeing Galm dripping blood from his mouth matching the hellish glow of his augmented red eyes, he also remembered seeing what he thought might have been a man once, now spread across the floor of the Pit leaving him to trail bloody foot prints up and into the ring.
All around was a crush of people, jostling and vying for the best viewing position of the inevitable death that was about to occur.
Their mewling was maddening to the Amarrian. He could smell the violence in the airGǪand to him it smelt of blood and decay.
"This is the Usumgal boy, the exalted dragon, wreathed in the fires of heaven. He is a true symbol of God's majesty."
|
True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
16916
|
Posted - 2015.02.02 00:20:00 -
[119] - Quote
A relative new comer to the scene our first competitor is a mystery with no known wins in any of the circuitsGǪ.. HeGÇÖs a definite underdog in this competition but if the resurgence of our other Amarrian competitors is anything to judge by we may have a real fight on our hands. Will we have a second qualified from the Throne Worlds? HeeeeeeereeeeeeeGÇÖs the Hound [term that refers to Slaver Hounds]!
Kador snorted with derision as they announced him, following the guidance of the ring side attendants, marvelling at the scale of the Pits and the overwhelming resonance of the crowd in the converted cargo hangar. So much for Desert Rat, he thought ironically, wholly understanding MakaoiGÇÖs angle on this one. The name wouldnGÇÖt have soldGǪ.but the man had done his job. It was fitting.
He kicked aside a lonely tooth as he was roughly shoved into the arena as the announcers continued to introduce his opponent.
Coming to us today with six kills, nine knock outs, and no yields from last season is Kisamaru GÇ£RaijuGÇ¥ Yagame riding on his recent successes in the unofficial circuits and victory in last monthGÇÖs minor league invitational he hopes to launch himself into spot light in his first major competition. Named for his unique full body designs heGÇÖs certainly been one weGÇÖve talked about in the past.
For a moment nothing happened. The crowd quieted down a bit as his opponent entered the arena from the far side. He was tall, well built, lithe, and most of all dangerous.
However this was all secondary to the artwork that adorned his body.
His face was a snarling, hellish visage of a heathen spirit completed with curling horns that extended up onto his scalp, curved teeth, a flowing mane extending down his neck.
This continued down onto his torso where conflicting images of serene mountain landscapes became juxtaposed between other scenes of brutality and violence, while his arms and legs continued the animalistic features of the Raiju.
As the cameras and visual displays focused on this designs audience burst into a roar of approval.
((plz don't crucify me for the lack of originality..... I need a momment tor revise and do a laguage check))
"This is the Usumgal boy, the exalted dragon, wreathed in the fires of heaven. He is a true symbol of God's majesty."
|
Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
336
|
Posted - 2015.02.02 16:25:00 -
[120] - Quote
it was the roar that caught her attention. the T.V on display lit up and on it she saw a grusome sight.
Galm, breaking every bone in his opponents body, ripping out chains right up to the part with thee ear thing. for a whole minute she watched his fight come and go, with a suprised look on her face.
'this is the guy who just hours ago invited us for pancakes and coffee.... with heart symbols on his messages' Hya'salia pondered, going back to the message on her wristcomp. it was indeed galm who sent it. she threw on her clothes, grabbed her vest and dashed out towards the arena. flying up the stair into the spectator seats, she made her way towards the front of the stands, grabbing onto the railing as she she Galm leaving the pits.
"damn.." she said to herself as the broken body of galm's opponent wasquickly picked up and disposed of, clearing he way for the next fight.
and there. out in the open with rough hand-me-downs for clothing, ripped cargo pants and a simple sleeveless shirt...
was adamance. by comparison to thal, adamance had tried. Tried, to adjust to societal norms laid out for the pits, if there were any. whereas thal had fought with his adorned clothing.
silently she took out her wrist comp, fumbled with a switch to the side, and inside was a micro-drone.
it activated in a series of chirps, assembling itself in her hand.
"Orbit pattern-arena" she saide and drone flew off, her wrist comp opened a holo-display, and she began to hit record.
"Satja is going to absolutely love this" she grinned in a mischievous fashion.
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