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Post by theron on May 6, 2012 20:56:25 GMT -5
Alek had tensed the moment that the obsidian fork had shot out of the shadows... then watched, ready to jump in, as the newcomer had emerged from the distant end of the alleyway like the ghost of a shadow -- and then, just like such a wraith, vanished into the swathes of blackness that lay heavy across the alley. The whip-sword knew an aggressive move when he saw one and years of fighting experience took over; if the enemy had ducked out of sight in one direction then that meant they would emerge from another... and in a confined space such as this one -- impossible as it seemed that he could slip by so quickly, that left only one possibility. From behind. The butler was fast and his aim true, but the obsidian tablewear never struck flesh. In a burst of light that briefly lit the broken dark the Demon Weapon transformed, a dimly shimmering broadsword appearing where he'd been standing. The forks, knives, and spoons either missed or clattered loudly off the metallic surfaces of the weapon. Unfortunately, this gave the shadow-dancing butler just the opening he'd been looking for. Before Alek could transform back to normal and counterattack he was suddenly past, standing right over Theron... with a black blade to the young prince's throat. "Shi--"And then... he saw the look in Theron's eyes. A look that no sane person would normally have in such a perilous situation. Bored. Absolutely... bored. Then again, when the man withdrew his aggressive posture and snapped to a sort of attention, it began to make more sense. This newcomer wasn't trying to kill Theron... in fact... "..am I not Theron Bradford d'Metreon's butler?" ... the two knew each other. Was all that, that chess monologue and dangerous throwing of obsidian, some kind of test? Greeting? Joke? The witch-hunter was at a loss for this bizarre twist on the situation, and it showed in his expression... but Theron seemed unmoved. "Tch. Still playing the comedian, Răzvan?" He half muttered under his breath before fixing the butler with a weary, heavily irritated but generally drained gaze. "If I'd been trying to hide from you, would I have used my real name? Become a student at a place as prestigious as Shibusen? Yes, my gambit's failed -- spectacularly, at that -- but you weren't the opponent I was playing against."He looked to the side, an expression of resignation in his eyes and one hand clenched in a futile fist. "Not that it matters anymore, anyhow." His gaze returned to the butler. "The game has changed, Răzvan, and the new rules are pathetically simple. Everyone. Loses. Even the winner. You've come all this way, through all your cunning and wiles, to find a prince who's already dead."He let that notion hang in the air between them for a few moments before sighing and holding his palm to his forehead. "...I suppose I'll explain it later. For right now we should --"Whatever he was about to say was cut short by the sound of breaking glass; from the distance and direction, probably the front end of the fortune telling shop. Before anyone could make a move, however, the world shattered -- or rather, it seemed to, as the ramshackle roofing over the alley was broken through on both ends of the relatively narrow corridor, sending a cascade of light and debris crashing down... along with four tall figures, two at each exit. Their faces were utterly impassive, the spears, shields, and swords they bore as weapons held ready as they rose from their landings, blank gazes locked on the gathering of persons at the building's back door. And the strange part wasn't even that they'd been ambushed... but ambushed by, from all appearances, animated Greek statues. "Oh great. What now?" Alek muttered to himself, shifting his weight in preparation for a fight. "Friends of your butler, kid?"Stone Minion A Stone Minion B Stone Minion C Stone Minion D
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Post by majordom on May 7, 2012 13:48:41 GMT -5
The butler let out a sigh. The act wasn't genuine, not by a stretch of any sort. It was simply the means to emote the appropriate response for dealing with a troublesome little lord such as the one he was to serve. After all, honest emotion was not necessitated in a butler of the d'Metreon line, only appeasement of the most extreme sorts, devoid of all want or self, and that was the role the butler played almost flawlessly.. as a role, if nothing more. Though despite this external show of platitudes and the helping hand of a servant, he could not help but feel a cynical glee at the core of his being at the sight before him now. The boy was only just now realizing the twisted fates the so often went alongside of his family line.. the thought of such tickled him to no end, seeing the embittered and fatigued defeatism in his master's voice and body language. He'd seen the boy suffering in langour before, plenty of times, though this.. this was despair. How delightful.
He would not be able to relish in the sight of his master's misery for long, however, as the sound of stone grinding on stone already had his attentions, preluding the sound of broken glass and shattering wood overhead, though he spoke nothing of it even despite the small forewarning he'd received. For one thing, the whole operation had gone about relatively smoothly to the point that he figured they'd all be in the same positions they are now even if he'd spoken up, and so he merely allowed himself to maintain his unflappable decorum instead.
"Friends of your butler, kid?"
"A d'Metreon butler has no need of such things, Mr. Witchbane," came the almost playful tonation from the black-clad man, though still managing to maintain a level and calm voice despite the looming presence of four moving statues. Instead he began to move appropriately.. as relaxed, collected steps moved him into position. There were two exits, the distance fairly similar, he mused.. though one had a few indents and the possibility seperate routes through the backdoors of neighboring housing contrast to the other. He reached into his pocket.. and produced a silver pocketwatch, "Oh dear," he mused with the kind of voice someone would adopt had they spilled a single drop of tea by accident. The kind of voice you used if something was little more than a minor inconvenience of no real bearing, as the butler turned politely to face Theron, "My lord, I fear that we may be delayed for afternoon tea a good five minutes later than anticipated."
..That was it. That seemed to be the only concern this strange and dangerously calm man had on his mind..
He raised his hand, as a simple, small dessert knife had found its way into his gloved fingers. These were constructs. Generally speaking, there would be little point in utilizing stealth against foes without any organs or vitals with which to strike against. Hiding would be fairly pointless too, given that he'd need to safeguard the prince - not to mention that constructs didn't really often rely on seeing straight ahead like a living being does anyway. The others were expendable, naturally, though incorporating them into the plan wouldn't be too difficult. He launched the dessert knife.. the streak of black striking against the surface of a metal trash bin and bouncing off against the wall opposite.. the wall equipped with a neighboring household's door. With a violent *shink* sound, the blade would sink itself into the lock, damaging it and causing the door to creak slightly whilst opening inward..
"Mr. Witchbane and bodyguard, kindly cover our retreat," were the butler's words, "My lord, please keep your mistress close if you do not intend to leave her behind." as moments after saying so, he'd leap forward with that ridiculous speed of his, making a beeline for the newly created exit, clearly intending on leading them out of the alley using an alternative route.
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Post by nova on May 7, 2012 15:43:25 GMT -5
Of one, Nova didn't know what to make of the Butler, as he called himself. Almost flamboyant in his personality, she knew surely it wouldn't take long for him to get on her nerves, but it wouldn't be in her best interests to show it. Once again, this would be a 'grin and bear it, bitch' situation. Maybe it would be a role she would soon become familiar to, and stick to. Maybe she'd even grow to tolerate and except her position.
Her 'partner' wasn't too fussed about his arrival, but Alek seemed all too skittish with his presence, not that there was no place for such a reaction around here any more. It was all too valid. The Butler and his Master spoke for a bit, Nova wasn't really paying attention; nothing of value was being said, after all. She took this time to slide the card and letter into her pocket. Nova wasn't sure if her soul would ever heal enough, or calm enough, to read what she'd been given. The breaking bond between her and Theron tore a hole in the blue orb. It was rare that true damage ever surfaced above the skin.
However, it seemed that the arrival of the Razvan wasn't the only surprise waiting for them, and four hulking stone figures, golems, loomed out into the Alley way. Without a partner, Nova was in no condition to fight here! Her blood ran cold at the sight. This wasn't good. They had to have owners, someone who was after them. No, not them, Theron. Neither Alek nor Rocton nor Nova came as any use to whomever was perusing them. All were expendable. Nova wanted to make a comment, but she'd be ignored to backhanded, so there was no point in saying anything. Until...
"My lord, please keep your mistress close if you do not intend to leave her behind."
Nova's eyes sharpened. "I'm not his mistress! I'm not his anything! You can call me 'that girl' or 'girl' but I am not more than that!" She rasped at the butler who would more than likely ignored her words. Nova was prepared to be left behind, and the two circular Chakram edges formed out of her forearms. She might not be able to beat anything, but she could damn well try.
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Post by Rocton on May 19, 2012 3:15:49 GMT -5
"Fuck Fuck Fuck"
The only thing going through the young veteran's mind. Fighting statues made out of stone was never part of the deal and if it was ever mentioned, he was likely asleep. None of his ammo was made to deal with this and even if he had anything explosive, getting up close to those "things" in such a tight alleyway was a death wish of the highest kind.
He looked around briefly, first observing his surroundings. The resources available were hardly recommended battlefield weaponry but they were available. While the crazy butler guy was saying some kind of stupid orders, for a guy who worked hard on a flashy entrance he really seemed useless at the moment, the meister took notice of some trashcans, a few clothesline but nothing as explosive as he wished he had. This was gonna be a bitch. There wasn't much for him to do he was starting to realize and he searched with every passing millisecond, a slightest hint of hope that they could all get out of this alive.
And at that very moment, he did something he hadn't done in a long time. Question his own motives. He didn't have to be here, hell he didn't even have to risk his life. He could just run away from this, let Theron deal with his own crazy fucking siblings with his own crazy fucking butler and while trying to keep his own crazy bitch from turning him into an eunuch. There was never any single shred of connection between him and all this. All he wanted to do was fight a good fight, this wasn't a good fight, hell it wasn't even a suicidal fight, it ranked right up there with stupid. If he wanted to kill himself he could have a much more hell of time jumping off a bridge than jumping into these stone deathtraps. There, for the curse of all hell, lay the rub of it all. Was it really a stupid fight? or was he just trying to reason himself out of it? To try an avoid the very thing he claimed to be looking for because when push came to shove, he couldn't do it. Was there any character left in the hollow shell of a kid? Any virtue to his cause? Any reason to keep him from doing what he had promised he would do?
It was a maddening thought, to question oneself to the point that he's convinced himself he can't convince himself. It's a circle of emotion and logic, of paranoia and torture, of repeated memories and thoughts process as he tries to rationalize what to do. He needed resolve, something to straighten it all out, or make it go away. He searched , not in his surroundings, but in himself for something to hold onto. Grabbing at his lungs, searching for a breath of fresh air that wasn't there, he felt a slight piece metal brush against his ribs.
The silver coin, it was there, it was with him. What was it? Luck? Hope? He had a future, that coin would lead him to it. If he wished to take it there it was. All that was needed was a flip.
"GET OUT OF HERE! RUN! I'LL HOLD EM BACK AS LONG AS I CAN!"
"As long as I can".....huh...those words never came back to bite anyone in the ass did they?
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Post by theron on May 29, 2012 2:06:58 GMT -5
"I'm not his mistress! I'm not his anything! You can call me 'that girl' or 'girl' but I am not more than that!"
Even despite everything he'd already been through, Theron felt those words bite into him, cold, sharp, and merciless. The boy prince winced slightly... but quickly moved to cover his disappointment. As apathetic and defeated as he felt, there were still things he had to do.
And getting Nova out of here alive was one of them.
"GET OUT OF HERE! RUN! I'LL HOLD EM BACK AS LONG AS I CAN!"
He'd been turning to follow Răzvan, but Rocton's unexpected words halted him in mid-step. For a moment Theron's world seemed to freeze as his mind went in two directions at once. One: let Rocton stay behind, fight the fight he'd chosen for himself, and buy them all time to escape. Two: hastily convince the gun-slinger to come with them, help them fight at a more opportune location, not waste his effort. Both conclusions were coldly logical, each a valid move with its own merits. He could have chosen either way... should have been able to select a strategy with hardly a thought, nary a heartbeat...
... but something caught in the young d'Metreon's mind. Perhaps something broken loose or cut free by the trauma and grueling despair of the last dozen hours. Something raw. Something spontaneous. Something completely unplanned. An emotion he couldn't put his finger on, burning white-hot, welling up from somewhere deep down.
He turned, spun on his heel, and grabbed Rocton by the wrist. "Like hell."
Somewhere, through all the brokenness, angst, and exhaustion, a fire came into Theron's eyes. "When did I ever say this was a suicide mission? When? You're coming with us." He turned to look at the others, gaze firm, eyes unyielding. "You're ALL leaving here alive, got it?! Now let's GO!"
"Good enough for me, kid." Alek was suddenly beside them both. "Besides, I think we can outrun them."
The witch-slayer was right: while the group had moved away from the fortune telling shop's door the statues had begun to move towards it. Their steps were long, heavy strides but they weren't running by any stretch of the imagination; what's more, all but one of them had their faces turned towards the shop's back door, seemingly ignoring the alley group altogether. The remaining statue had its eyes on Rocton and was steadily advancing, a shield in one hand and a spear in another.
Suddenly, it dawned on Theron. The statues weren't here for them...
... they were here for the Oracle. Her fate had arrived.
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Post by majordom on Jun 30, 2012 5:16:31 GMT -5
"When did I ever say this was a suicide mission? When? You're coming with us." "You're ALL leaving here alive, got it?! Now let's GO!" Sentiment? From that child? The butler's mirth only increased tenfold. Honestly, what kind of place had he been spending his time in where a decade and a half of d'Metreon upbringing was already being so shamelessly torn apart. All that work, too, creating a proper tactician, seemed to be thrown out the window in favor of simplistic notions as 'everyone must survive' or protecting one another. That boy.. he truly was that woman's child, after all, wasn't he? How hilarious - was foolishness perhaps hereditary then? How he wanted to laugh, as a thin smile crept upon his features whilst the black-clad servant zipped in a zig-zag pattern towards the opening he had created, "Please, my lord, make your way through here," he politely offered, ducking in through the door ahead of the rest as per the virtue of his headstart. Once he vanished from sight, however, his smile vanished almost instantly. What petulant foolishness. The d'Metreon prince was evidently due for a few more lessons in how to become an appropriate ruler, it would seem. The butler took a few steps forward, ignoring the small family of three seated around their table, enjoying a cooked meal. As the father opened his mouth to speak, the butler narrowed his eyes and contemplated drawing his knives. He could use a top-up.. he'd left his suitcase at the apartment, after all. But no.. he could already hear the prince and his underlinds ambling their way here.. instead, he put on that same, perfectly practiced smile, "Deepest apologies, good sir. We are in something of a hurry, so perchance you would permit us to use your front door?" To smooth things over, he dumped a neatly folded stack of cash on the table, and then moved quickly down the hallway, opening the door and beginning preparations.. ..and no sooner had Theron and his companions reached the door at long last than they'd find a family of three casually eating their meal as if nothing had happened, and the butler standing there, graciously, beside the door to the hallway, ready to lead them onward, "This way, if you please. I have arranged our transport," came the simple statement.. the butler smiling knowingly over the ivory white, stretch limosine awaiting them just beyond the front door, with the d'Metreon isnignia emblazoned upon the side.
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Post by nova on Jul 16, 2012 17:01:11 GMT -5
The statues lumbered forwards, but not towards the small group outside. Instead, they seemed intent for the building in which they had just been. The fortune tellers time was coming to and end. It was what she had chosen. It wasn't something anyone could change, even if they wanted to. Nova was to respect her choice, as she had respected her in the little time they were acquainted to one another. With a seconds thought, the Chakram blade on her arm vanished in a short burst of light. What was she thinking anyway. Her hand wasn't in any state with which to fight. Just another day, she supposed.
Nova turned to Razvan, who seemed relatively calm, despite it all. Then again, he had an aura of a guy who'd probably seen worse. No, there wasn't a doubt. He'd probably had worse than this. She wasn't going to argue with him either. Likelihood being he wasn't too bothered about nether herself nor Rocton. They just came as the collateral. Nova'd been playing that role for a while now, anyway, so it wasn't anything to be fussed over, she supposed. The Butler showed them to a house, she followed.
Inside there was a family, apparently unaware of anything. That threw her off a bit, and she found it somewhat unsettling. The fact an eccentric man had just wandered into their house, and now three more people were closely following in his tract. Peculiar. But, she wasn't going to question anything, she'd already learnt that it wasn't her place to ask questions. So, if he said to get a move on, she would do so. Nova stepped forward towards the front door, not stopping to question or to wonder about how completely odd this all was. A Limo with an insignia on it, that of a family that altogether liked to keep hidden. Very strange, but, she hadn't room for a choice otherwise.
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