| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
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| BC & SP : Issue 1 {P} | |
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| Topic Started: Fri Sep 2, 2011 9:52 am (241 Views) | |
| Ogre | Fri Sep 2, 2011 9:52 am Post #1 |
 
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Another night in Cascadia, it was the only time that it's only masked vigilante could get any work done, it was the only time that he could go through the city without anybody asking any questions about where Stammer was. The perfect time to lose quite the bit of sleep, and the exact time when all of the shadier details just happened to go on, and Steam was hell-bent on breaking up as many... no, not break the deals u, follow the dealers back to their sources. He needed to stab the hydra in the heart, not just cut off its head. For every front0line worker that he killed, two more would take its place, and the group would only become more angered by having lost their work-force, it would just turn Steam Punk into a target, and he couldn't allow the to happen, he couldn't let himself get hindered by such things. Doing things right saved lives, doing things wrong put them at risk, and putting a life at risk was most likely the worst idea, especially for a hero. A sigh passed by his lips from underneath his metallic mask as he stopped off on a roof, sitting down on the edge of his hover disc shield, his feet dangling about a foot from the rooftop he hovered above. He wasn't having any uck, one way or the other, with finding any of these criminals, and he was working on practically no energy. Most heroes didn't find the need to hide their identities like this, but Ogre had people he wanted to keep safe, and if criminal masterminds found out that some blacksmith kid by the name of Ogre Stammer was running around hacking apart their competitors, they would start to get worried and want to take insurance policies, namely, those that Ogre didn't want to get hurt because of his actions. Sam helped to keep the disguise of Ogre and Steam's seperate identities alive, taking on the Steam Punk loko when Stammer needed to repair something of his at the forge, it made for a great way to keep his secret identity a secret, but it still didn't help with his resting issues. Working as hard and as carefully as he could during the day, knocking around some criminals and such during the night, only about two, maybe three hours of sleep before he had to start it over again, it was rare that he ever managed to actually get a day off to rest, and he did his best to never let his exhaustion show... or at least his blacksmithing trainer wasn't letting on that he knew that Ogre lokoed like crap. "Sto... I don't think I'm going to live much longer if I keep this up Sam." He huffed, falling backwards on his shield, gazing up at the stars from beneath his mask, trying to think of anywhere that there could be some sort of criminal, and at the same time trying not to pass out right there on the rooftop, sure nobody might not find him, but if he passed out, he just knew that with his luck crime would spike! What a dilemma. |
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| Bear Cook | Fri Sep 2, 2011 1:11 pm Post #2 |
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Banagher looked at the ten people surrounding him on the street, wielding an assortment of weapons, from basic clubs to short swords, none were unarmed. The extortionist racket on his favorite market street was getting hit harder then ever and he wanted to stop them, unfortunately they outnumbered him greatly, ten to one odds weren't a good thing while he was in his humanoid form, it was time for a quick change. He got into position, growling and snarling as his body changed, growing to well over seven feet tall, his fingers growing short blunt claws, his body becoming covered in brown hair as the blond hair on his head slowly turns brown, his face elongating slightly to half-form a bear's head, his normally long knife-like ears shorten drastically and round off, his hybrid were-bear form was complete. Banagher growled out, "Taking on me right now is like a sick man trying to take on a ten course meal... and starting out with spicy chili! Boom!" He charged the first man, taking the initiative, using his new size and reach to swat away the man's shortsword, using his blunt claws to impact the side of the blade, afterward his left arm went into a quick spinning motion, thrusting the palm out as he twisted his entire body into the blow. All that was heard was an abnormally loud cracking noise, followed by a body hitting the ground, unconcious. He turned to the rest, getting into a side stance, one arm out in front, palm upwards, while the other was floating to the side at his neck height, he was ready for a fight. |
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| Ogre | Sat Sep 3, 2011 7:13 am Post #3 |
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A growling sound shook Ogre from his near-sleep, leaving him momentarily groggy as he realized he was just about to pass out, not a good thing, not in the least. So whatever was going on, wherever that growl was coming from, it was a somewhat good thing, it cleared his mind, sort of reinvigorated him, after all it sounded sort of ill-placed for a city like Cascadia. Actually, it sounded kind of like a very angry bear… and as far as Ogre knew, there were no bears on the flying city… Then again, he had seen a good deal of weirder things than a misplaced beast. A sigh passed his lips from beneath the guise of his mask, a gloved hand reaching up to readjust the cloak over his metal-forged mask, it was time for him to get to work, time to find out what was going on, and to see what sounded like something cracking and like people fighting a bear. Of course, these three things in common couldn’t possibly be good things. Another reminder that Steam Punk was restless as he stood straight up on his shield, tilting it slightly so it would move, allowing him to trace to the source of the fighting noise, to figure out just what was going on with a first-hand eye-witness account. Of all places, the fight seemed to be taking place on the street… more specifically and oddly… It looked like they were actually fighting a bear… Wearing clothes… Either Ogre had passed out, or he was hallucinating… or there really was a bear kicking the asses of a bunch of thugs… He really needed to get some rest… it just wasn’t going to come any time soon. Another sigh passed by his lips, most likely unheard as he hovered above them all, unseen and silent as he quietly cast his spell beneath his breathe, the arcane gestures to go with it as water began to collect, began to form into a nice orb, perhaps a couple of gallons worth at least, a nice amount, he generally needed less for cooling metals as Ogre Stammer, but… the situation seemed like it might be a bit more hot-headed than hot-steeled… which made cold water a nice and easy way to diffuse a situation, finishing the incantation Steam Punk watched as the water fell victim to gravity, and those beneath him would fall victim to getting drenched with water while he floated down to about two meters above the stone road of the street. “So, fighting a bear, huh? Yeah…” He paused, getting a better look at the fighters, whether or not the splashing might have stopped them, surely his words would grab their attention. “It doesn’t seem to be going very well for all of you. And I just have to admit, I have never seen something like this before!” He exclaimed, and at least two of the thugs coming to rush him, their weapons readied to strike, and both of them falling to the ground when they found the hovering shield slammed into their faces.. more specifically, bouncing of the thick skull of one, and ricocheting into the head of the other, knocking them both out in a rather effective manner as Steam landed on the ground to one knee, drawing his sword to match with their weapons, they decided to attack him, so he was going to help the bear. |
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| Bear Cook | Sat Sep 3, 2011 3:35 pm Post #4 |
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Banagher growled, even in his hybrid Were-bear form he was in trouble, there was simply far to many of them. When he heard the water hit the ground, he struck again, stepping forward, slamming a bear-like paw down onto the man's shoulder, he heard another crack, the man's clavicle was broken, he quickly placed a clawed paw-hand on his chest and pushed him as hard as he could as he did a short leg sweep, taking out his knees. The force of his push easily sending him to the cold stone ground, two down, eight to go. He turned to see who was no... talking, why would someone talk in an active fight, didn't matter, the person in the mask seemed to be helping him, using his floating shield as a projectile to take out two foes in one go, the tides had turned. Now it was one to three, the odds were no longer terrible, he got back into stance as he spoke, "Thanks stranger, you take the three stupid looking ones on the left, I'll take the three stupid looking guys to the right... I won't be surprised if you get confused, they all rather look alike with the same blank look on their faces." He watched as they split up, trying to take down both men at the same time, bad idea, these guys were just dumb thugs after all. He stepped forward as they began their assault on him, bringing his palm up to block the strike of a short club prematurely, smacking the bottom of the club to send it out of his hands, turning to deliver a side kick to another one's side, only to feel the dull pain of an impact on his side, there were three, not two, he wasn't fighting his brothers, he needed to remember that. He backed off and let them charge again, he concentrated on his foes, how they were charging, how fast their feet were falling, he mentally prepared himself as he got into stance, twisting his upper body as he stepped forward, his foot stomping on the street as he brought both arms down on the man using a knife, trying to get in close to stab his stomach. The man fell to the ground as both arms smashed into the top of his head, he turned and crouched, bringing his elbow upward as he stood, the elbow smashing into the man's jaw, knocking him into the air for a second before falling to the ground. The last one held his shortsword shakily and screamed as he attacked, he was to obvious, Banagher stepped forward as he struck, sidling to the side to just barely dodge the strike, bringing his hand up he shot it forward, slamming directly into the man's jaw. Banagher watched as the last one hit the floor, he turned to his ally in the fight, "Thanks for the help stranger. I'm Banagher, I run a small food stall nearby, I make cheap and delicious meals, not to mention foods from around the world. Also... whats with the mask?" That was one thing that really made him curious, the iron mask obviously wasn't there as decoration or he would have had it be more... decorative, it had to serve a purpose. He would sate his curiosity first, then he would hunt down the extortionist's boss and his last few thugs. |
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| Ogre | Sun Sep 4, 2011 9:15 am Post #5 |
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“Sto, all the thugs are beginning to look the same, aren’t they? Same stupid expression, same getting-their-ass-kicked profession. Heh, that rhymed!” Steam chuckled, standing up straight, dropping his guard as he spoke and making sure t get his shield nice and ready for when he’d begin fighting again… of course, the thugs weren’t going to allow the vigilante the opportunity of moving his shield in time to truly deal with them, but just because he was tired and exhausted and the such didn’t mean that he was a complete and utter idiot. The shield moved quickly, not even strapped to his arm as he would have liked, though having hidden a good portion of his body with its size, it allowed for him to get a better grip on his sword, arcing forward and lodging itself into the wooden club of one of the three he was stuck dealing with, his eyes glaring in the bit of torchlight from the street as he growled, well, it was more of a disguised yawn to be honest, these guys weren’t even that interesting to fight against! “Now… I’m going to hurt you.” He warned, proceeding to slam his foot into the guy’s crotch, a truly painful and terrible experience as the thug folded over, collapsing to the ground and leaving the Punk with a club stuck in his sword… something that actually might end up proving to be useful! The second one moved in while the third one looped around, finding space between the vigilante and the bear. The one charging was wielding a very nice sword… A… Damnit! Ogre made that sword, no wonder it was of such a high quality! And to think that these bandit bastards… Ah! A planned shipment had gone missing, No, not missing, they were stolen1 Oh, this was such a sobering and awakening moment, all essence of Steam Punk being tired vanished when his sword clashed with that of the thug’s. The sword that the thug wielded was better than the one he was using now, masterwork, not a single scratch on it, even going so far as to bite a bit down into Steam’s, because he was forced to use whatever sword he could find, he didn’t like to ruin his own weapons, he found them to be pieces of damn fine art! He stepped to the side, the thug from behind him rushing in and slamming the club down on the other bandit’s shoulder, Steam honestly had no clue that the ruffian was even there, things just sort of lucked out for him… And with the club-wielder distracted by hitting his own ally, it only took one swift movement for Ogre to bring the hilt of his own sword slamming into the club wielder’s neck, knocking him unconscious in one good blow while leaving him to deal with the one who stole his sword. Steam dropped his own weapon to the ground, it was one of his earlier works and now damaged, such an annoying thing when compared to his newer refined works, beautiful things that they be. With each hand he grasped about the dirty shirt of the thug, lifting him well into the air and gazing angrily into his eyes from beneath the glass of his mask’s eyes. “Where… did you get… that sword?” He asked in the calmest way he could muster… a growl that clearly indicated that he wanted to kill the thug. However, killing the thug would not let him know where the rest of his weapons were! He was so caught up in anger; he didn’t even notice that his impromptu ally bear-man thing had said anything. He just wanted to hurt the thug. |
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| Bear Cook | Mon Sep 5, 2011 12:55 am Post #6 |
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Banagher heard him ask where the man got his blade... well that was obvious, "They get everything they want from their boss, he's a big guy, just shorter then you, scarred up face, one eye. I don't know the guy's name but I can tell ya that the man you're holding now won't tell you anything." He walked over, throwing his arm up into the chin of the man he was holding, teeth cracking as his upper and lower jaw met. Banagher readied another one, "But he'll tell me... after all, you've seen what I can do in my other form, what do you think a stronger form could do to you... especially one with claws." He showed his hand, his blunt claws shining in the moonlight, the thug made a horrified look, his teeth were a broken mess and now the man was threatening him with claws, he started to whine a bit from his wound before speaking, "Look I'm just a low thug, but I have kids! Please just put me down, I'll tell you where the boss is! He's in an old bar called the 'Four Snakes.' That's where him and his three brothers hang out! Now please let me go! I swear I'll never do anything like this again!" He winced from the pain of speaking, tears welling up in his eyes, all he wanted to do was run away and never see the masked man or the were-bear ever again. Banagher grabbed the masked man's shoulder, "Let'em go, he needs to see a doctor for the broken teeth." As he spoke blood started to pour out of the man's mouth, the full damage of his punch finally taking effect. He pitied the men who had to resort to this kind of work for food and water, if he had a restaurant he could hire these people and train them, make them good people with a cause... but that day was far from today, for now he would have to beat them senseless and hope they would turn from their evil ways. |
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| Ogre | Tue Sep 6, 2011 9:38 am Post #7 |
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At this weird bear-thing's words, Ogre let the man go, though reluctantly. He wasn't at all liking the idea that some random thugs were managing to get their grubby hands on his weapons, they were damn masterpieces, each one of them! The vigilante quickly turned away from the thug, missing what surely would have been an entertaining and humorous blow. He was more focused on the blade that had been dropped to the ground, luckily the poor thing wouldn't be damaged from it, but to look at it closer, and then holding it in his hands and letting the light hit off of it just right, he knew this sword... he remembered clearly who this sword was, Amalia, she was short but she loved to whistle... and those bastards, whoever they were, whoever their boss was with the one-eye and face like the back-end of a dragon. The thug was on the ground, and spouting out everything he knew. Amalia should never have been in the hands of such a low-life. She might have been sweet, but she was tough, she would never have backed down from a true fight... and some bastard had filled her mouth with metal, she couldn't whistle! And even worse, the metal was cheap, a mixture of melted copper and low-quality iron, things which would be brittle to even the slightest tap from a hammer in just the right spot. "Sto... Whatever, thug... get your ass out of here before I use this blade to slice your head from your shoulders." Ogre probably wouldn't have actually done such a thing, even as infuriated as he was, however he simply couldn't allow for such an atrocity to his art work. Amalia was not a blade crafted for him, but her and her kin had been stolen about a week earlier. And if these thugs had her family, then Steam Punk was going to be sure to rescue them all from the grimy ill-skilled hands of these pathetic pieces of scum! The man stumbled off, cupping his mouth with his hand while trying to stop the bleeding. Two things, good ideas. And it took Steam a good three minutes to finally break away from the sorrow of what they had done to one of his blades. "Sto... Two things... First, I want to return this blade to somebody who can fix it... They ruined the poor thing, but not irrepairably so..." He said, simply. Taking a deep breath, his right hand gripped tight around the handle of Amalia as he walked over to the dropped longsword, easily picking it up and putting it back where it belonged, inside of its sheathe, its home. "The second thing... Sto... What the hell is a bar? Is it something like a pub?" He asked, lost for words about that, a bit calmed down now that Amalia was safe, and hoping that he could get her back to his forge so he could repair her later as Ogre. After all, he couldn't just leave her like this! |
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| Bear Cook | Tue Sep 6, 2011 6:50 pm Post #8 |
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Banagher nodded, "Yeah, basically, but it's smaller. Though I do know the place he's talking about, I've been there to try and ask the owner the recipe to his glazed ham, but the old man won't tell me... how am I supposed to make the greatest food known if people with the best food never share their secrets." He clenched his fist and started walking, he didn't know if his new ally would care about his own goals, but it didn't matter, they both seemed to be after the same man, might as well work together, "Come on, I'll lead us there." Banagher lead him there, keeping silent the whole ten minutes it took to walk there, cutting through other alleys to get there. He stopped before the door, four serpent heads were painted on it, he could sense bad vibes from this place, if he was a lesser man he might have just walked away, but he needed to stop these people from hurting people and extorting those who can barely pay for their own needs. He turned to the masked man, "Before we go in, we should probably introduce ourselves, I already told you my name, what's yours stranger, I've never seen you before today." He didn't want to go in with a stranger at his back, if he didn't know who it was he would let the masked man walk in first, he would rather face a dozen enemies in front of him then eleven in front and one at his back. |
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| Ogre | Wed Sep 7, 2011 8:25 am Post #9 |
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“Sto, I like pubs better. Good drinks and laughter and the such.” Ogre commented, having definitely cooled down from earlier, coming to grips with what had happened to poor Amalia, and more importantly what he was going to do later on to the bastard son of a true ogre that could even doing something so sinister to such a shining short sword of such a significant stature. Steam Punk wasn’t going to go easy on this boss-person, and was definitely going to take things personally… On the plus side, seeing Amalia so horrifically maimed had absolutely woken Ogre up, putting him at the truest of alert mindsets. Well, focusing back at the task at hand, it didn’t seem like Ogre was going to get the sword back to the forge just yet. At least this meant that Amalia could see some revenge for what was done with her, though she might not be able to whistle doing so, this would surely make a rather good history for her. People would be lining up around the block to purchase the sword that took out some bastard thug leader, and was even temporarily wielded by the up and coming vigilante hero of Cascadia. Things would truly turn out for the better. All he had to do was follow the bear… Man… Elf… Person-thing. It was a bit more confusing to Ogre, but the only thing more confusing than that was his own pedigree, only managing to have tracked down four races that his blood seemed to come from, which fused together in some wonderful amalgamation to form the mutt-hero Steam Punk… And now that he thought about it, why didn’t he use any of his own weapons? Could it be that he didn’t want to personally endanger them? After all, they were all masterwork, and he named them himself! If only he could learn some magic, he could imbue them to be even more capable tools against whatever forces may be working against them. Steam followed this person easily through the alleys, never once loosening the grip on Amalia’s handle, and eyeing the door to the small pub… bar thing, carefully. He had never even heard of this place! He really needed to get some new criminal informants, his were either hiding such things from him, or were simply too stupid and entrusted to be allowed to know about something like this. For shame, it made Steam Punk look bad! For a moment he paused when the man he was apparently teamed up with had introduced himself, having completely forgotten whatever he had introduced himself as. However, he did know that he hadn’t introduced himself… and the fact that he needed to meant that he really needed to work on improving his notoriety. “I’m the hero of Cascadia, it’s nightly protector to defend against the evils which lurk in the shadows beneath the moon, I am Steam Punk.” He said clearly, no stuttering, no Sto, it was clear he had rehearsed this… and he wasn’t going to apologize for it! Edited by Ogre, Wed Sep 7, 2011 8:26 am.
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| Bear Cook | Wed Sep 7, 2011 7:09 pm Post #10 |
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Banagher listened to him and scratched his head, 'Steam Punk'? That name makes no sense... maybe he knows magic spells that shoot out steam... or perhaps it has something to do with that mask, but either way, the man thought himself a hero... and that was good enough for him. He smiled at him, "It's nice to meet you Steam Punk, but this is my first time hearing about you." He walked to the door, opening it up and walking inside, it was rather large on the inside, everything seemed brand new, even the smell of newly cut wood was in the air, this wasn't the same place he had gone to a week ago. He walked in slowly, looking at the twenty odd people sitting around and drinking, snake tattoos covering their bodies, a few started to whisper, some panicked a little almost yelling, "It's that blasted were-bear cook Banagher... and look it that there, it's Steam Punk... man this is bad. Somebody get the boss and his brothers!" A rather scrawny looking guy ran into a back room, probably to get his bosses. Banagher looked as the nineteen remaining people waited, their hands nearing their weapons, Banagher could only wait, starting a fight now would be suicide. If they had to fight, they needed to instill fear in them... by either taking down the four heads of the gang or by destroying a few small fry with deadly force... well it was best to take out a serpent by cutting off it's heads. He would wait for the four to come, and then, and only then, would he attack. |
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| Ogre | Thu Sep 8, 2011 10:09 am Post #11 |
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Yeah, truly he needed to work more on his notoriety… Or maybe with any luck, this bear-elf person just hadn’t been in Cascadia long. Yeah, until proven otherwise, he was just going to go on ahead and keep believing in that idea. At any rate, dwelling on something so trivial, not when the monsters who could so terribly maim Amalia were still at large, running through the streets with her kin and no respect for them, no idea how to properly treat them. Perhaps it was simply Ogre becoming too attached to the weapons that he forged, but there was a reason that they were such wonderful things to steal. They were truly masterowkr. Steam followed the bear-elf in, listening to the chatter as he made his way over to an empty table in the middle of the room. To say that a bar was smaller than a pub was pretty accurate. He sat himself down on the table itself, picking the name of the bear-elf up, apparently it was Banagher, and he was a cook… also, it seemed that even these thugs had heard about the vigilante, so that was definitely a situation that was twice as good. He wasn’t without his due notoriety in the criminal underworld, and now he knew his ally’s name without having to worry about asking him again. Even better yet, it seemed like the bosses were about to be called in, a bonus to all of this not so hard work, at this rate Ogre was sure to get home and into bed for his regular two and half hours of sleep. And gods, was he feeling the effects of that opor sleeping schedule, his mask being the only thing that hid a large yawn as he looked around, waiting for the bosses to come out. Of course, nothing could ever actually be easy or simple, not several men but instead one coming from a back room. Maybe the others were just staying behind the scenes; maybe they didn’t feel the need to involve themselves with the trivialities of a couple of heroes in the bar. The man who held himself high above the rest was rather tall, a bit slim and bald, letting his tongue slip out, cut like a snake’s. His eyes were apparently replaced for those of a snake’s, something that would probably make it a bit difficult for him to see, but at the same time he didn’t wear any shoes, he probably trained himself to feel around like a snake, too. “Wow, really taking this snake thing to a serious level, aren’t you?” Steam couldn’t help but comment with a slight chuckle, that mocking sort of tone that he used to throw enemies off, to make them angry and make mistakes. “Hey, Steam Punk! Last I heard of you, ya nearly got yourself k—“ The snake-like man was cut short as he stopped and sat backward on a chair that had been kicked in his direction by Steam. “No, we don’t talk about that, understand?” |
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| Bear Cook | Fri Sep 9, 2011 7:23 pm Post #12 |
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Banagher smirked, apparently he hadn't been in Cascadia long enough, men ending up half-dead tends to be big news, must have been before the last three days though. When he saw the chair get kicked at him and the man easily stopping and sitting down in it, his eyebrows raised, the man's placement of his feet and how he moved showed he was trained in the martial arts, his movements were fluid and sharp, this could get dangerous. Banagher picked up a chair nearby and threw it himself, aiming for the snake-like man. He watched as the man easily stood up and kicked up his own chair, letting them collide in mid-air, grabbing both and throwing them quite accurately at himself and Steam Punk. Banagher smirked and stepped forward, bringing both palms forward, slamming into the seats of the spinning chairs, halting their momentum and sending them crashing to the floor, the on lookers just smirked. Banagher rubbed his palms and rolled his shoulders, the snake-like man was strong for his size, abnormally quick to. He looked to Steam, "We've got a bit of a problem, if we go in to attack there's little doubt that they'll all come after us, I suggest one of us takes on the snake-man while the other covers the person's back. You get to decide, you want to fight him or will you cover my back?" They didn't have long to wait, he could feel it, a large fight was going to break out and these two were going to have one heck of a hard time taking down twenty men with only their fists, feet, and a sword. Banagher relaxed his stance, ready to fight at Steam Punk's decision, he would either go in charging the snake-man or follow behind Steam Punk and keep his back clear. |
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| Ogre | Sat Sep 10, 2011 9:09 am Post #13 |
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Ogre simply ducked and avoided being hit by the chair, instead one of the snake-tattooed thugs foolish enough to have been standing behind him being met with the wooden chair to the face, and yet still no movement from the rest of the thugs, just a nice bout of laughter going round a bit at the misfortune of their fellow criminal. And Steam Punk did have to admit, he found it rather funny, himself, when he turned around to see the thug on the floor, holding his bleeding head. A slight chuckle even came out from beneath his mask at the sight. Now, if thugs could simply keep up with this whole business of harming each other, he’d have a lot less sleepless nights patrolling the streets to keep them in line. This little bit of enjoyment having been fulfilled; Steam sat himself back upon the table he was sitting on before. Listening close to Banagher’s words, Ogre took a quick glance around, examining all of the thugs, the fact that they were clearly outnumbered and would most likely be overwhelmed n a fight, coupled with this idea that their present leader wasn’t entirely the type to fight fair, though in all honesty: neither was Steam Punk; if it took a cheap shot to take down a criminal, then that’s what he would take, and that was often exactly what he needed to do… Which was also probably the reason for his otherwise lack of any real skill with fighting, taking to more stealthier tactics, sneaking around and taking out criminal threats before they even knew he was there. It was a rather unfortunate tradeoff, but using the cover of steam really did pay off when it came to life or death situations… As it was looking to turn out right about now. For a moment, he simply paused, looking once more at everybody so ready to fight, he leaned in for a moment towards Banagher, half-whispering something to try and strike up a conversation, to throw the thugs off-kilt and possibly even anger them into making the first move, “When we’re done with all of this… you seem to know how to fight, mind teaching me?” As Ogre had generally learned in the past, making somebody angry made them sloppy, and forcing them to make the first move could usually result in them showing their hand, their tactics, and their skills. While he couldn’t tell somebody what a fighting style was or how to properly parry, he could tell if he was severely outclassed in a fight. He might have been foolish enough to become a vigilante in Chaon, but he wasn’t stupid enough to get in so far over his head that he ended up drowning in a sea of his own blood. He already had enough near-death experiences, probably too many for a person of his age, but never did it stop him from doing what he did, and never would it until the day that he eventually just dropped dead. |
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| Bear Cook | Mon Sep 12, 2011 3:39 am Post #14 |
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Banagher growled as he jumped forward, "Don't be a dang fool, just cover my back and make sure no one gets behind me!" He thrust his palm forward, trying to provoke the snake-man, only for him to dodge and strike, his neck elongating and fangs forming where his canine teeth once were. Banagher brought his elbow up quickly, hitting the bottom of the chin and knocking the head away. He looked at the man, his entire body extending and contracting, though one part extends the rest of the body contracts... his left arm was shriveled up and his stomach looked awfully thin, but his neck was long and sinuous, probably capable of squeezing a man to death. Banagher took a single step back, getting into stance, keeping his hands at his waist, his normal stance had his arms out a bit from his body, he couldn't let the man's abnormally quick movements get him, he would need to rely on striking, something he rarely did in his martial art, his striking was always counter attacks or palm strikes, neither would be effective against that neck. He waited, seeing the gang members standing up, taking out knives and short clubs, they were getting ready to join the fight. Banagher cursed his luck, he hoped Steam Punk was at least half decent at keeping them off his back, the hero would have a workout today. Banagher stepped forward, at the same time the snake-man struck, his lightning fast strike barely missing as Banagher ducked to the side, bringing his fist up from his waist into a solid punch into the neck. All that was heard was a meaty thud and felt his fist sink in a bit, but that was soon followed by a sharp pain, he looked to the side, the neck twisting at an impossible angle, biting his leg, he could feel a burning sensation, he kicked at the neck with his uninjured leg, the snake-man letting go and going back to his body. He could feel the burning, but it wasn't poison... what was it...? He thought for a little while before the man laughed, he could see the fangs now, covered in black gunk... the man had covered his fangs in something. There was no time to second guess himself, the thugs were starting in and he was already injured. |
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| Ogre | Mon Sep 12, 2011 9:22 am Post #15 |
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Okay, with all honesty, Steam hadn't exactly expected to have made Banagher so angry so fast, the man took things way too seriously to be very used to fighting against enemies. The best tactic was to make your opponent lose their cool, to let them strike without any skill behind their movements, to force them into doing smoething they normally wouldn't through sheer and utter rage. Ogre's original plan was to get Banagher talking back with him, not back to him. If teh bear-elf person could have only figured that out before charging recklessley into combat with snake-man, whose body seemed to have been more than just slightly modified to the appearance of a snake, they could have won at a quicker rate. However, it seemed that Steam was going to be stuck with dealing with the rest of the thugs and criminal scum that were in the building. A couple were smart enough to take their leave, they didn't want to mess around with the two heroies that were just crazy enough to take on the entire damn bar, and that made things just two people easier for Ogre to deal with as he slowly stood to his feet. A sigh passed by his lips from beneath his mask, he could easily deal with the thugs, so this situation was as much of Banagher keeping snake-neck off of Steam Punk as it was Steam Punk keeping the thugs off of Banagher. However, Ogre never really cared much for diong what he was about to do... It usually resulted in a lot of criminals escaping, but it was almost always the best plan that he ever had when he found himself trapped in a fight against greater numbers. As the swarm of antsy thugs began to make their move, so did Ogre: opening up his cloak as if shedding a skin, revealing beneath it a long-sleeved shirt, brown and of a thick sort of cloth, something generaly rather adept at keeping flames from touching his skin, as well as a variety of things... such as the effects of what he was about to do. Within an instant his body seemed to jerk and contort in a vicious manner, making several of the thugs stop in surprise. Another moment passed, and from his mask began to pour smoke into the room, taking from the thugs their very sight, leaving them blind and complaining about their sightlessness, calling out to the punk and throwing insults his way, which in turn only granted from him a chuckle. He could hear the footsteps of several of the criminals making their way to the door, calling out to each other, trying to figure out what was going on. At the same time he could hear footsteps moving in the direction of his ally and the thugs' boss, something that Ogre wasn't about to allow to happen any time soon, navigating the mist with ease. For him, the steam which seemed to give no heat was simply a great cover for his movements as he took out surely a dozen men, not taking their lives but instead forcing them into an unconcious state. "Banagher! Jump to the left!" Ogre called out blindly as he moved towards the sounds of more clustered footsteps, taking out as many thugs as he could, a plan working in his mind. He was attempting to have the thugs try and rush their own leader, though his call would also carry with it the originally unintended effect of keeping the apparent chef from being bitten again, a lucky call on a fifty-fifty chance. |
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5:16 PM May 22
