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| [O] Bloodied Moon | |
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| Topic Started: Mon Oct 26, 2009 3:24 am (134 Views) | |
| Aleister | Mon Oct 26, 2009 3:24 am Post #1 |
 
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Aleister fell back onto the ground, his breathing was heavy. Blood stained his clothes, and ripped where a knife had been dragged along his chest. Fresh blood fell from the wound, but luckily it was deep and shouldn't be that serious. A foot away from him was a body, still warm from life. A sword was still sticking through his heart though. How Aleister hated swords, but this victim just happened to have one with him, and it had broke out into a fight, Aleis had just happened to get lucky though. He lifted a hand to his head, reaching for his hat, but frowned when he couldn't find it on his head. He immediately started to look around, and shortly spotted it five feet away, but his limbs felt too tired to move. He wasn't used to wielding a sword. Thank god the freak was dead though. He looked at the dead body again, a brow raising slightly. He crawled over to the figure, looking down at the dead mans face that was stunned in shock, eyes still opened, but Aleis didn't even try to close the terrified eyes that were slowly glazing over, busy ripping the shirt away from the mans neck and pulling out his crude looking knife - while absently thinking of getting a new blade - and running the small weapon over the mans throat, deep enough that a steady flow of blood poured forth. Quickly reaching into a bag of holding by his side, he pulled out a medium sized glass bottle, pressing it to the mans throat and filling the clear glass bottle with the red liquid. When it was full, Aleister shifted back to his hunches, looking at the red liquid. Just as a young black cat bruched up against his legs, purring. "Nice catch, wasn't it?" Aleister grinned, running a free hand along the cats back, before standing up. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he took a long drink of the blood. Relishing that coppery yet delicious taste. He wasn't a vampire, and had no intentions of becoming one, but ever since he was a child, who made blood offerings to his dark gods, he's taken a taste to blood. He seemed to have been test tasting the blood, and finding it rather good, and a good enough offering for his gods, he put the cork back in the bottle, and slipped it back into the bag of neverending space. He grabbed his sword and ripped it from the body, he dropped the sword to the ground and sat down again, laying on his back, staring up at the moon, that seemed to have a red hue to it tonight. |
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| Ogre | Mon Oct 26, 2009 9:34 am Post #2 |
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Recent work orders made patrols more difficult for Steam Punk. The long hours each night made it so his time was cut short, and the work of hammering the metals and proven taxing on his arms, but tonight he had completed the order given to him by his instructor early, giving him ample time to leap from roof-top to roof-top like a maniac in search of some rogue-ish being doing something that he could beat his own worries out of. Actually, he found this type of heroism to be a rather good tool for relaxation. He stopped a moment at the edge of a roof, lifting his metallic mask at the faint scent of something familiar. The removal of the odor-obstructing mask from his face made it all the much clearer, blood was split, and the stench was strengthening, somebody was either seriously injured, or dead. He would have to hurry, for whomever cause the wound could try to clean it up. He pulled the mask back down over his face and lifted his hood back to its rightful place. He would have to use his sword tonight, he was going to have to use Reif. He leapt off in the direction he believed the stench had come from, one hand on his hood and the other to lower the force of impact from landing on the next roof. The stench grew stronger, he could easily smell it through the metal now. He walked cautiously to the edge of a roof near the river's edge, looking down to the ground below. And there was, of course, a body, bleeding out and a sword beside him. And standing next to the corpse was a man who seemed to be enjoying some drink over the deceased man’s body. This had to be the source. Lifting his fallen hood once more, Ogre prepared, his hand now resting on the handle of Reif. One more deep breath for luck, and he leapt to the ground below, landing in a crouching position. He seemed to be okay, a bit winded from his knees hitting his chest, but he didn’t let that show, he had practiced breathing exercises to help him though moments like this. “Sto, A murderer? Rare…” His voice came out with a tin-like sound from the metal as he lifted his head to see the face of the man he believed to be the killer, “Sto, Any reason or last words? I believe in an eye for an eye, after all.” He said grimly as he stood to his full height, trying not to chuckle in the difference between their height, waiting for an answer before taking action. |
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| Aleister | Tue Oct 27, 2009 2:20 am Post #3 |
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His good day suddenly came crashing to a halt when someone appeared. He stared at the taller figure, their height differences very easy to tell, not that Aleis cared, one didn't need to be tall to be strong. He jsut stared at the man with his yellow eyes, taking the others odd appearance, and had no idea why the man wore a mask like that, it was bit on the confusing side, but it seemed that there were a lot of confusing people in this world. “Sto, A murderer? Rare…” "Rare? You obviously haven't been in Imythess long, fool." Aleister laughed. Which was true, there seemed to be a lot of deaths lately, and this was defiantly not the first murder Aleister has committed a chain of crimes like this in this city for over the past month. “Sto, Any reason or last words? I believe in an eye for an eye, after all.” Aleister sighed. "Why does everyone say the same thing all the time." He grinned. "I was hoping to get off easy tonight, but I guess I'll have to deal with you too... I wonder... should I offer your blood to the gods too when I'm finished with you?" Aleis said, mainly speaking to himself. He didn't move to pick up his longsword or any other weapon, but he did take a couple steps back, bent over and picked up his hat, setting it lightly upon his head. He held his arms open wide, grinning. "Wanna kill me? Then come on, I don't have all night." He said, waiting for the man to make the first attack. |
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| Ogre | Tue Oct 27, 2009 4:10 am Post #4 |
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“Sto, no, no. I meant rare as in I really rarely ever find killers, always long gone by the time I arrive, now that I know it is you for the past while.” Steam Punk unsheathed his blade, pointing the tip to this killer who seemed to enjoy the act of, and the blood of, a kill. “Sto, you’re a smart one, no crazies risk their lives, less they’re masochistic morons.” He said, putting the broad side of his sword on his shoulder to rest it. “I’m not dumb, I know magic, you must have some, otherwise I’d be way too lucky, no, gotsa think it through quick ‘fore you try to make a break.” “Sto, yeah, I scent that. Not all there, not all human. Some demon smell, don’t know what kind of demon, though,” He readied his blade again, thinking his options through, “Speed Demon, Regenerating Demon, Fire Breather…” He paused for a moment, he liked to think things through, but one could only learn through action. Action and thought worked best together, after all. “Sto, guess I gotsa learn? Only one way to know what to expect.” He pointed out before quickly swinging his blade with a strength passed down from his quarter celestial heritage. The strike may not have been infused with any magic, but it was wielded by a resulting concoction of four different beings, generationally speaking. Before the strike would hit, he stopped his blade, turning quickly and bringing it back around the other way to match his opponent’s reaction to the first strike. He didn’t get to use offensive tactics like this very often, but all he really ever found was thieves, this guy was a great break from the monotony. |
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| Aleister | Tue Oct 27, 2009 6:55 am Post #5 |
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"Guess its your lucky day then." He merely said. He probably should have left the scene, but that just wasn't what he did, and he had to get the blood, and well, felt like resting some, foolish for normal people, but even Aleister wasn't completely sane. “Sto, you’re a smart one, no crazies risk their lives, less they’re masochistic morons.” Smart, he liked that. Though, he was a bit masochist like, he did, after all, inflict wounds on himself for the feel of pain, and for the blood when he hasn't made any recent kills. But the thoughts of that were short and quickly set aside. "I guess your smart too, every idiot that comes after me after I slaughter a family for a kick or from a job, they pull out their pretty little weapons and try to slice and dice me up." He grinned. His fingers twitching as he felt magic pulsing through him, feeling a warmth inside him from the power. "Your not all human yourself. But sorry, I can't give an exact answer on my blood, its a bit mixed." Which was true, he had elf blood, demon blood, human blood, and from several other races. He smiled wickedly when the man finally decided to get a move one with this, pointing the sword towards Aleister. He did feel a slight nervousness about this, not comfortable with swords at all, especially when people tried fighting him with them, but, he would have to deal with it. With a flick of his hands, they were covered in darkness, with an outline of red. his fingers extended into long thin vicious looking claws. The light around his hands faded away, but leaving his hands tinted dark gray. He had used the spell Claws of the Savage. The sword swung out towards him, and Aleister blinked once - using the spell Blink - and Aleister was instantly in a different spot, facing the mans back now. But the man was already preparing another attack. With a grin, Aleister brought a clawed hand up, and stopped the blade in its track inches from his face, the clawed hand curling around the blade, as a snarl pulled at the tieflings lips. He slashed out with his other clawed hand, towards the mans chest. Expecting that the man would pull the sword out of Aleis' grasp easily, he would release the blade at that moment. This was defiantly going to be interesting. |
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| Ogre | Tue Oct 27, 2009 9:16 am Post #6 |
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This was definitely no amateur to combat, and just as Ogre had expected, he used magic to summon claws apparently capable of stopping strong physical blows, or at least able to survive such attacks. He was part demon, that much was obvious enough by his stench, but he had gone down a path opposite Steam Punk, he killed for the pleasure of it, and gained some interesting tricks along the way. That was all right, it just turned into a good challenge for the vigilante mix-breed with a sword. His long reach aided him, as well as his decent reflexes in dodging a strike from the dark being’s magical claws without so much as a tug on Reif’s handle. There may be a chance it wouldn’t do much, but now wasn’t exactly a time to take such chances. Steam Punk was going to have to react quickly and perhaps a bit foolishly. This being was wise, though perhaps his natural strength didn’t match Ogre’s, he must have a back-up plan, so of course Ogre had to make one up as he went along. Not exactly his favored tactic, but it usually proved to be effective. “Sto, evil magi-claws? That’s a bit used, isn’t it?” He said quickly and a bit arrogantly as he maneuvered his body. With the claw past, Steam Punk took a step forward, a powerful and quick kick aimed towards his opponent’s stomach to not only give distance, but to hopefully momentarily cripple him in the process. And as an added bonus, the vigilante would be able to get his blade back, it was a combination of three benefits from one move, all that was needed was for the kick to land. |
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| Aleister | Fri Oct 30, 2009 3:44 pm Post #7 |
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He hated melee battles, he still couldn't seem to get the hang of it, but everyone he fought wanted to use swords and kicks and other things like that, though he was fast for being smaller and always working on his speed and agility, the kick from the older man hit, slamming against Aleister and sent him flying back a couple feet. His clawed hand sliding from the blade and cutting against the sharp edge. He fell to the ground, the air gone from his lungs. He coughed, taking deep breathes, trying to get his breath back. "How annoying. You little worms liking to fight and kick. When all I want to do is pray to the gods and sleep." Aleister grumbled, complaining to himself as he stood up shakily, glaring at the other man, waiting for the next move. "But, if you want to play rough, then I should return that." He didn't have many spells good for combat, most of his spells were used to torture others, but he knew he could pull something powerful out. He took several steps back quickly, weaving his clawed hands through the air, a mist appearing in front of him, crackling with a dark energy. Then the tiefling held his hands out towards the man with the strange mask, and a Black Bolt of dark power shot force from the mist, heading straight for the man. Having that to distract him, with another few words and movements of the clawed hands, he cast the spells Haste and Blur, making him much faster, and blurring his form, so when he moves, or even stand still, his figure would be blurring, and when he moves, it would make it seem like there's several Aleister's. Then he made one of his clawed hands go back to normal, then drew forth his stiletto, the thin blade sharp and deadly. Laughing, he ran towards the man, moving so much faster then normal, and blur most likely capable of confusing the other, he made sure to be ready to dodge the sword as he moved to slice the stiletto against the man, wanting to see him bleed. |
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| Ogre | Sun Nov 8, 2009 11:07 am Post #8 |
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The shock from the dark blow caught the vigilante, Steam Punk, completely by surprise, knocking him quickly to the ground. He sat for a moment, his eyes wide and all breath having left his lungs. “Sto! You think I like getting’ a lil’ o’er an a few hours ta rest!? I hunt evil for my chosen god, it’s my praying!” He shouted, quickly stumbling to his feet. This fiend was proving quite the hassle, but he was enjoying it, pain and all, none-the-less. All those stories he had read, his parents, this was like his own personal villain! From what Ogre could gather, the demon prayed with the blood of those he hunted, Stammer, himself, prayed with the blood of the wicked! And the fact that they both wanted to sleep, if they hadn’t been so obviously of opposite alignments, they could be friends! Steam Punk had to act quickly, though; the fiend casting some sort of magic and going way too quick for comfort. Using what acrobatic skill he had, coupled with his height advantage over his foe, he barely managed to get over the demon’s head. He could feel the stiletto cutting into his leg, but at least it was just his calf, no major arteries, but a really big pain. That would be really hard to cover up at the forge. “Sto-p trying to kill me for just a moment! You’re supposed to take a moment to gloat, boast your identity and some titles, then send monsters after me while you make a quick escape so we fight again on another date!” Steam shouted as he again clumsily stumbled to his feet and turning to the fiend. He took quick, deep breaths. This guy had really dangerous magic, all Ogre had was an ace that was sitting on the roof of a nearby building, and that might not even be quick enough if the fiend didn’t boast! This wasn't at all going the way the stories made him believe! |
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| Aleister | Mon Nov 9, 2009 1:03 am Post #9 |
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"... I hunt evil for my chosen god, it’s my praying!” Interest pulled at Aleister. Gods all interested him, but, not the good ones, they were all weak, pathetic and worthless that didn't need a shred of respect or followers to listen to their orders and codes of not harming others. "Is your God good then? Why would anyone want that, their strict and keep you on a short leash. You can't enjoy life by following them." Well, not that he would know, ever since he was a child, ever since he met that priest in the Wasteland, it was the Dark Gods he followed. He felt his blade pierce the other, even if it was only in the leg, it didn't matter. After the attack he stepped back, lifting the blade up, looking at the crimson blood over it, and he laughed softly. Blood was such a beautiful thing. His yellow eyes looked at the tall man, grinning, but that faded away slowly when he heard what the man said. Stop? Why? He was... supposed to gloat and boast about himself? Why would anyone waste their time with pointless words that didn't even matter. What was with people in this world? And what about monsters? Why would he want to escape when he could catch another good kill? "Why would I boast? What exactly would that even accomplish when I can just end your pathetic existence now?" Aleister questioned, very, truly, confused by this. "If I bragged about who I was, I would be exaggerating,if I gave myself titles, I would be disrespecting my gods and acting like I am greater than them. If I did that, my life will be nothing. I will be nothing without my gods. And if I ran, it means I'm still weak. That and my only monster is that cat." Gaze flicked to the black cat that sat there, watching the fight. So, if he did gloat about it, he may fall out of his gods favor, and that's like the world coming to an end - though he loved the idea of the world ending in apocalypse, just not if he fell out of his gods favor. "But, how could I deny telling you the name of the person whose going to kill you." He smirked, then bowed low, tipping his had with his clawed hand in the process. "People call me; Aleister." |
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