[Nexus] Harnel's Plots

[Lady Serpentine]

Naera gently squeezes her shoulder, still smiling gently.

"She'll be alright, love... Really."

[Beans]

O-Okay... be careful, both of you.
She hugs them both tightly.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Vo gets a tight hug!

[Lady Serpentine]

Naera hugs back, rather tightly as well, kissing her cheek.

"Of course, love. I always am... Don't get yourself too worried about us, alright?"

[Beans]

I-I'll try, dears... She smiles a little, still nervous.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Blank gives Vo another toothy grin! We'll be fine, mom!

[Beans]

Vo nods, smiling back.
A-alright, dear...

[Devixer]

The strike was about as effective as Boris expected, the majority of his force being absorbed and dispursed. Then again, that was the entire principle behind helmets in the first place as even sparring could lead to accidental cranial or cerebral damage should the shock be sharp enough.

Still, Ghoul appeared to take that as a message to try and place a bit more distance between them for the time being. If she managed to pull away, she would stand roughly a meter outside his reach and resume her stance.. Or one that was rather similar at least. It might seem odd that she hadn't drawn any knives yet, though. And the caution she appeared to be employing was likely to be irksome if it continued.

((I'm sorry for forgetting about this.))

Now that Boris is the aggressive part of this fight, his battle plan has shifted a little. Namely, he doesn't intend to give Ghoul any breathing room. If he can keep her on the defensive, then he might be able to find an easily exploitable weakness on her armor.

When Ghoul steps back, Boris steps forward to close the distance. He feints a palm strike to her stomach, then tries to strike the side of her face with the handle of his ballistic knife.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Harnel's Tournament]

Cue arrival of the last contestant. Late only in the most fashionable of senses, of course. He's a burly man, and tall, like, with a mean aggressive stooped over posture that is not helped by his shaggy mane of black hair and unkempt mustache over an unshaven face. He's dressed in an eclectic combination of scale mail and plate bits tied with leather cords to heavily wine-stained furs, and a series of belts serve as anchor to a wide array of hanging hatchets, daggers, throwing knives, throwing axes and razors woven into the edges of his furs. Across his back are a large crossbow and a huge, bloodstained maul. A quiver of home-made bolts hangs from one hip, and he smells rather strongly of liquor, sweat and stale tobacco.
"Righ', sho where'sh th' fightin' at?" Says the man in slightly-more-than-tipsy tones, his voice bearing the grating character of a wood-rasp scraping across asphalt.
"I'mma ready for any takersh. Come a' me if ye think yer man enough!"
He grins with crooked, yellow and black teeth.

[Harnel's Meyrink's Tournament]

Hold the phone! Stop the presses! There's someone in the arena, hijacking your tournament!
"Arright folksh! Thish shtuttering shambles of a turn'ment 'as gone long enough without my pretty fashe on dishplay! It'sh time to show theshe good people shome real entertainment! Come on already! It'sh time to get a little tashte of MEYRINK BLUDWULF!" He yells dramatically, standing erect, legs together and flourishing an axe commandingly at the arena entrance, waiting for his opponent to approach.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Blank eeps a little bit and stares at the loud man.

[Zefir]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon



Cimorene figures time isn't on her side either, unless that cut on his chest bleeds quicker then however many broken blood vessels are no bleeding in her arm. So instead of stumbling away from this attack she ducks around or under it. Her left arm still dangles usless but the sword reapearrs in her right hand and she will slash at his arms and shoulders trying to make it so he can't wield his weapon.

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

As before he tried to hit her legs, which gives her time to go around. Eon still isn't without defense. As she starts to swing her sword he rais the brrastplate against it to block the hit. he nearly loose the improvised shield that way and makes a few steps back to gain his grab back.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Naera arrives at the arena moments after the shouting begins, but doesn't quite step out of the dark tunnel, not being fool enough to actually try for an approach; instead, she lifts her repeating crossbow, and fires a hook-bolt at one of the gaps in his armor on his right leg - should it hit and penetrate, the head, folded down into a narrow, streamlined, tip, with thin curving blades acting almost as wings, imparting spin and a small measure of lift to improve its flight characteristics, should spring open inside his leg, presumably doing more damage and making it much harder to remove.

[McBish]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

As before he tried to hit her legs, which gives her time to go around. Eon still isn't without defense. As she starts to swing her sword he rais the brrastplate against it to block the hit. he nearly loose the improvised shield that way and makes a few steps back to gain his grab back.

Amelia isn't going to relent easily. She kicks out with a solid straight kick aimed at his thigh. Her sword slashing around hoping to hit him somewhere unarmored. She angles her body so her right shoulder is forward protecting her injuried left side.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Blank stands shyly and hugs her mom. I think I have to fight now.

She then walk over to Spec and smiles a little bit!

[The Alexandrian]

[Spec and Blank's Arena]

Smiling a little bit at Spec won't kindle any kindness in her heart or elicit much emotion from her. As a matter of fact, she has steeled herself against any assault, physical or emotional, as were anyone to probe her thoughts, they would find her mentally counting cards, listing components to construct grenades, and meditating on other seemingly random ideas to shield her thoughts. She's cold...for the most part. Beyond that, she is already sizing up Blank. The dagger Blank wields will no doubt dictate the outcome of their battle, Spec reasons.

Okay, to be honest Spec is more than a little...disturbed by the thought of fighting a small child. She can't help but feel that this child is under duress and skirmishing against her for some reason other than glory, honor, or fame...

And that thought makes her sad.

"I take it you are prepared to compete against me on the proving grounds."

Spec states, stepping forward into the arena, never taking her eyes off of Blank.

"Don't hold back. I certainly won't."

[Dark Elf Bard]

Blank vs. Spec

Blank flips her knife Passion around in one hand, and Hedy's her net gun in the other.

She also appears to be doing something with her tail, butSpec probably can't see it.

[The Alexandrian]

[Blank vs Spec]

Oh dear! Is that a gun? Spec didn't receive the memo that guns were allowed in the competition!

Unless it is evident at a glance that Blank's net gun is a net gun and not a gun that fires bullets, lasers, plasma, force, or other lethal projectiles/beams/waves, Spec will point the palm of her left hand at Blank's center, taking a bead on her as a fist-sized ball of searing white energy crackles to life in it.

"While it is a first-rate idea to compensate for the lack of reach of a dagger, you won't be doing it with a pistol or I will return fire with a deadly laser beam."

That little girl has a gun, and Spec doesn't want to be shot at by anybody! She's got a long life ahead of her, and it isn't going to be forfeit for the sake of something as unimportant as a crazy tournament fighting competition.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Blank vs Spec

Blank shows her opponent the gun. It has a net! No bullets.

Her tail swishes back and forth nervously.

[Zefir]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon



Amelia isn't going to relent easily. She kicks out with a solid straight kick aimed at his thigh. Her sword slashing around hoping to hit him somewhere unarmored. She angles her body so her right shoulder is forward protecting her injuried left side.

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

Eon struggles back as the kick hit him, allowing him to avoid the first hits from the sword, since I don't assume she can walk with one feet in the air. As he comes closer again he tries to block the attacks with the breastplate and befor he loos the grip he tries to throw it against her. Should that go fine he will ready his weapon to defend himself or attack depending on her next action.

[McBish]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

Well she can walk with no feet on the ground, not that she is. So he has plenty of time to bring up his breastplate shield. As he throws the shield she raises her right arm to take the blow, letting her light sword disappear. Then she rushes forward hopefully quickly enough to get past his long reach and close enough to plant her elbow into his throat like she is trying to do. It should only be a couple of steps to close the distance.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Naera arrives at the arena moments after the shouting begins, but doesn't quite step out of the dark tunnel, not being fool enough to actually try for an approach; instead, she lifts her repeating crossbow, and fires a hook-bolt at one of the gaps in his armor on his right leg - should it hit and penetrate, the head, folded down into a narrow, streamlined, tip, with thin curving blades acting almost as wings, imparting spin and a small measure of lift to improve its flight characteristics, should spring open inside his leg, presumably doing more damage and making it much harder to remove.

[Meyrink's Arena]

Meyrink looks down in surprise as the crossbow bolt embeds itself in his right leg, springing open as designed.
"FOUL!" He cries, pointing at the tunnel. "'Ow dare ye shtrike from the shadows like a shniveling coward! Come out 'n' fashe me like a MAN!"

[Lady Serpentine]

[Meyrink's Arena]

"I am no man," Naera says softly, stepping out into the arena, kindjal in her right hand, and something held loosely in her left, though what, exactly, is hidden. "And I strike from the shadows because it will make winning easier. War is not a game, played out in 'honorable' battles. You take whatever advantage you can find, or you die."

With that, she flings the sand she scooped from the tunnel floor at Meyrink's eyes, and darts forward, going for a thrust at his shoulder; should he try to block the attack, or attack her before she gets in range, she sidesteps left at the last moment, and goes for an upward slash from the front instead, hoping to force him back onto his injured leg.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Meyrink laughs mockingly.
"Ain't about honor, girlie! Sh'about guts! And you ain't got a pair!"
...
Those are balls, Meyrink. You're talking about balls. Guts don't come in pairs.
Oblivious to his drunken metaphor switching, he blocks the sand with an arm, giving Naera a crude grin.
"And the closhesht a pretty little dollie like ye'sh been to a war ish cryin' at home o'er the love poetry shent by yer anemic sholdier boyfriend."
Meyrink waits for Naera's blow to come, not blocking it but simply crouching under it, and then springing upwards in an explosive motion, attempting to drive his shoulder into the underside of her upper arm, numbing it and knocking her off balance as he swings a hatchet with his other arm squarely at Naera's chest.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Meyrink's Arena]

"Actually, I lead a mercenary company," she answers coolly, twitching the arm he was trying to catch with his shoulder over to try to smash an elbow into Meyrink's eye faster than any normal human could, using his own momentum against him.

Whether or not that's successful, she also tries to catch his wrist to keep the blow with the hatchet from hitting, clamping down with several times human strength if she succeeds.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Meyrink gets hit in the eye! He doesn't seem to notice. He also notices the grab attempt and releases the hatchet just before his wrist gets grabbed, meaning Naera should have a hatchet embedded in her chest right about now.
"Well I cen think of shome thingsh I'd pay ye for." Says Meyrink, retaining his crude, lecherous grin, made all the more crude by his now swollen eye, which is starting to blacken.
Then he attempts to headbutt Naera in the face.

[Lady Serpentine]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Thunk! Hatchet-chesting is indeed a thing. Naera's bones are probably strong enough to keep it from getting to her organs when flying because it was let go of during a strike and not thrown intentionally, but it certainly hurts, and will definitely impact her effectiveness in most attacks.

Meyrink's next comment, however, makes it quite fortunate that there are rules against killing; still, headbutting her may not be such a great idea, as her face elongates, becoming more bestial, and rather than dodge, she tries to catch him in the wolf-like jaws that form just as his head goes forwards, intending to rip his lower jaw off.

Should she fail to catch him, however, she'll be knocked loopy for a bit, unable to properly respond to his next attack.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Meyrink's Arena]

Naera gets a taste of Meyrink! Awww yeah! She might wish she hadn't, though, as he quite literally tastes like ass. Ass mixed with old, rotten food, cheap cigarettes and whiskey that may or may not just be industrial solvents colored brown. And then she rips his jaw off. There's a lot of blood and gore and bone bits and stuff.
Meyrink, now jawless, remains locked in Naera's grip, a manic gleam in his eyes as he stare blankly back at her, blood spurting horrifically from the gaping mess where the bottom of his face used to be.

[Zefir]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

Well she can walk with no feet on the ground, not that she is. So he has plenty of time to bring up his breastplate shield. As he throws the shield she raises her right arm to take the blow, letting her light sword disappear. Then she rushes forward hopefully quickly enough to get past his long reach and close enough to plant her elbow into his throat like she is trying to do. It should only be a couple of steps to close the distance.

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

She will manage to avoid the heavy end of the weapon, but Eon did notice that she is fast. He just does what every fighter in DnD does. Hit with a stick. In the time she pass his range he changes his hold on the weapon so that he can use the other end to try to hit her in the face.

[McBish]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

Cimorene is hit in the face with the haft of Eon's hammer, or more aptly the side of her head as she had managed to turn her head. Since she did this, and because of the blow she staggers off target not managing to hit Eon with her shoulder. She does summon her blade back up to slash at his belly as she stumbles away. Blood dripping down her ear.

[Zefir]

Arena Cimorene Vs. Eon

And there he got another cut from the magic blades. Lucky for him the wound won't kill him immediatly , but he takes a few more steps back, holding his belly to prevent the blood from spilling out.

He will need a few moments to recover befor he can start another attack.