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savetheearth2013-04-20 08:59 pm
secondcomingof) wrote in savetheearth2013-04-20 08:59 pm
Entry tags:
- !open,
- #action,
- a song of ice and fire: robb stark,
- bleach: toushirou hitsugaya,
- blue exorcist: amaimon,
- code geass: euphemia li britannia,
- eternal darkness: anthony,
- gundam unicorn: full frontal,
- gundam wing: lady une,
- hakuouki: hajime saitou,
- hakuouki: keisuke sannan,
- hakuouki: sanosuke harada,
- hakuouki: souji okita,
- hakuouki: toshizou hijikata,
- kamen rider blade: hajime aikawa,
- marvel cinematic universe: steve rogers,
- mass effect: mordin solus,
- metal gear: raiden,
- middle earth: aragorn,
- npc: dog police,
- parasol protectorate: randolph lyall,
- tales of the abyss: legretta the quick,
- tiger and bunny: kotetsu t. kaburagi,
- transformers g1: starscream,
- yu-gi-oh!: bakura ryou
ғɪᴠᴇ. [ action; Dead District, Sunday evening ]
WHO: Pretty much all of you! Except Kallie. She sucks.
WHAT: Werewolf Hunting the Movie, starring yours truly.
WHERE: All around the Dead District.
WHEN: Forward dated to Sunday evening.
[ The hour is late. The sky is dark and the stars are out, the only guidance they'll have for this mission—and this was a mission, in Casval Mass' mind. One he intended on carrying out and returning successfully from, despite the difficulties involved.
He sends out the mass text to everyone when the hour draws near with the full details of their rallying point, sitting on the same trunk from his previous post on the network. He's dressed the same as always; in full captain's regalia, boots polished to an almost severe shine, coattails flickering in the gentle evening's breeze. The only sign of nervousness lingers in the occasional twitch of his knuckles. Otherwise, he's primed and ready for the challenges ahead, keeping a lookout for his "forces" as they arrive.
He's got no delusions about what's going down here. The borderline murderous intent is clear in his eyes. Let them come, his sharp gaze reads.
Let them come so I can kill them all. ]
(( And here we go! Operation: Werewolf is now go! Tag at will! Team assignments can be checked here while you are waiting. Please make sure to mark this post with your appropriate character tag as well.
EDIT: The mingling threads will proceed for awhile to give people time to tag in. Keep an eye out for special threads to go up. Until then, you're wolf free... for now. Please do not NPC running into the wolves, or the wolves themselves. At this time of estimation, they'll likely start appearing tomorrow evening at the earliest, but watch this space for updates. ))
WHAT: Werewolf Hunting the Movie, starring yours truly.
WHERE: All around the Dead District.
WHEN: Forward dated to Sunday evening.
[ The hour is late. The sky is dark and the stars are out, the only guidance they'll have for this mission—and this was a mission, in Casval Mass' mind. One he intended on carrying out and returning successfully from, despite the difficulties involved.
He sends out the mass text to everyone when the hour draws near with the full details of their rallying point, sitting on the same trunk from his previous post on the network. He's dressed the same as always; in full captain's regalia, boots polished to an almost severe shine, coattails flickering in the gentle evening's breeze. The only sign of nervousness lingers in the occasional twitch of his knuckles. Otherwise, he's primed and ready for the challenges ahead, keeping a lookout for his "forces" as they arrive.
He's got no delusions about what's going down here. The borderline murderous intent is clear in his eyes. Let them come, his sharp gaze reads.
Let them come so I can kill them all. ]
(( And here we go! Operation: Werewolf is now go! Tag at will! Team assignments can be checked here while you are waiting. Please make sure to mark this post with your appropriate character tag as well.
EDIT: The mingling threads will proceed for awhile to give people time to tag in. Keep an eye out for special threads to go up. Until then, you're wolf free... for now. Please do not NPC running into the wolves, or the wolves themselves. At this time of estimation, they'll likely start appearing tomorrow evening at the earliest, but watch this space for updates. ))
no subject
Clearly, a more hands-on approach was necessary here.
Dropping his rifle at his perch, the Captain scales the uneven rubble with ease, undoing the collar of his coat and whipping it open to reveal heavy guns clipped to either side of the inside jacket—matching M16s. Whipping through the nightmarish scene, he sends bursts of gunfire directed at the grunts in the pack, shooting less to take them down, accuracy sketchy at best, and more to distract, to draw their ire away from the children. He leaves Aaron to his own devices; for whatever reason, he seemed more confident, more capable, and honestly... his potential loss didn't weigh too heavily on his mind. Nothing did, other than achieving the goal at hand.
Tunnel vision kicks in, seeing Jack struggling, caught in the jaws of the alpha. Jack. Loyalty overrides everything else, everyone else. They could all keel over and die but Jack has to live, has to, he's not allowed to die or disappear because he just can't handle that and so Casval speeds and weaves his way on over, ditching his weapons and drawing his sword from his sheath, a blade that shines in the shadows keen to slice the bloody bitch in two. ]
Get away from him.
[ The warning's hissed through grit teeth, and with a sure hand, Casval whips his sword towards her spine in a horizontal slash, intending to cut her back open in one swift blow. ]
no subject
"If there are, they'll-- they'll come running to that, to help their pack," he manages, more hopeful than actually certain. But distance makes it at least marginally less likely that they'll be turned on, and maybe moving around a corner can prevent a bullet's accident, so he's happy to take Bakura's suggestion. "Come on-- this way." And while he's not going to run and maybe attract attention, he certainly walks, shoulders hunched in a futile attempt to look less obvious about it. He urges the two boys to come with him along the wall of the nearest building, one hand on each shoulder.
He looks over his own shoulder every other step, trying to keep an eye on whether the not-werewolves notice the more helpless group members' escape. And keep an eye on whether any of that potentially friendly fire is going to wind up coming their way.
no subject
Who--
[But he doesn't get to finish that sentence when the injured wolf slams into him, knocking the air out of his lungs as his back hits cement, and he's probably lucky he doesn't crack his skull open right there. The gun slips out of his hand but doesn't discharge, and as soon as he catches his breath, he kicks at the beast's stomach, pulling one knee in and rapidly straightening it, before twisting so he can grab his gun again.
And then all of a sudden there's more gunfire and when he looks, it's Casval, who's....now charging head-on at the wolf who's grabbed Jack's arm. Goddamn, everyone on this thing is crazy. Or has a death wish. He can't tell which.
...Except Lyall and the kids, apparently, except running could be disastrous. Pointedly, he stares away as he shouts:]
No! Don't run! We can't protect you if you leave here!
no subject
She turned, right as Casval swung his sword; it hit, enough to bruise, perhaps, but not to get all the way through the reinforcement of her vest. All the same, she hadn't heard him and clearly miscalculated, and the fact that it was only existing preparation that saved her from mortally wounded instead of only knocked aside didn't escape her. Furious, she struck at his face with a dully-clawed hand, red-stained teeth bared in a grimace of unfiltered anger.
Meanwhile, the nightmarish scene only grew worse as the downed beast filled the night with howls of pain and scrabbled on the ground, dazed by the gut-kick and the blood still escaping past any instinctive attempts to hold hands to the wounds. The dog engaging Aaron continued dancing backward, drawing him away from the others as well.
And as for the three people intentionally trying to separate themselves--
"Ha..." The fourth 'wolf' on the scene nearly seemed to grin as she straightened from the crouch she'd entered only moments before, immediately grabbing for whoever was nearest with pawlike hands. As it turned out, both choosing to run alone and then being wary even as she was drawn by the sounds of a fight worked out in her favor.
no subject
Jack's not entirely sure how, but it seems perfectly natural to take the force of the shove and turn the first step back into a full-fledged backflip, landing several feet further back from the alpha as she turns on Casval. He's spattered blood across the ground, and it's running down his arm and in between his fingers, still clenched tightly around the knife, But he doesn't care. Adrenaline is running high, and the pain from his arm is sharp, a gratifying reminder of the battle at hand. It's been too long since he really felt this way. And it feels good.
As quickly as he flipped backwards, he charges straight at her again, only turning sharply on his heel to change direction at the last second. Attacking from an unexpected angle, Jack's knife thrusts straight into her side, through the bulletproof vest below her ribs and up into her chest. He can't grapple to hold her in place, but he can continue the turn, kicking out one leg from under her as he rips the long, bloodstained knife free.
no subject
Bakura jumped as he was grabbed, instinctively trying to yank his arm free and elbow the face of whatever had grabbed him. The fact that this was something far bigger and far nastier than any mugger could ever be did not at all register on his reflexes. Nor did the fact that he was armed with a pistol. It was all pure adrenalin fueled instinct.
And likely would not go well...
no subject
[Even in the midst of the chaos, Toushirou's movement is instinctive. A twist to get out of the grip on his shoulder, firming his grip on the sword as he easily pulls it free of the sheath.
[And in the next motion, the blade swipes up at the werewolf's forearm. To anyone who knows anything of swordfighting, this is clearly not a strike of blind panic. It's skillfully aimed, intended to cut into flesh and muscle -- and there's no hesitation in the swing.]
no subject
So he gives a yelp, and both of them get yanked immediately back, aiming to pull them behind him and away from the danger, with the hands on their shoulders. The hands, too, turn into fists in their shirts for better purchase. Whether the slice combined with Bakura's elbow and the yank are enough to break the former police officer's grip remains to be seen.
no subject
Aragorn vanishes into a doorway, slipping into an abandoned building. He cannot disguise his smell, but he can move silently and stealthily. He isn't invisible, but he is hard to spot in the dark.
He climbs to the second floor, silent as a shadow, and waits to see if the creature will follow him in.
no subject
Awakens something terrible, from the pool of some wretched, otherworldly power he never thought possible. And somehow, in the madness that spreads through his thoughts like malaise and mists over his eyes to deep, dark cobalt, he picks out a single word, two syllables that change absolutely everything.
Newtype.
His body is moving again, and he isn't even thinking, isn't even feeling beyond the bloodlust, as terrifying as Jack's and perhaps far more so in how coldly focused it is. The sword strikes come faster than they should, faster than a person could ever hope to move, right, left, right, left, a hellish fury and he's twisting and turning like this is what he was always meant to do. Like a human weapon finally broken free from its leash, bearing its fangs.
But it's still not good enough. No matter how many hits he gets in, there's something he longs for, something beneath his fingers, something crushing, something dying, that a sword won't grant him.
So he reaches forward, forward to what he's seeking. The life he wishes to feel slip away, in his own hands. The female's neck, that he yearns to wrench an iron grip around, accompanied by a brutalizing blunt force thrust from his frame to bowl her over.
Choke her choke her choke her. Kill her kill her kill her. Why had he ever wanted to do anything, but this? Why would he want to do anything else again? This was why he was born. Why he existed. What he was made for.
Nothing else matters, save for this. ]
no subject
With a soft, muttered apology, he shoots one of the paws, just to be safe, and dashes in the direction of his young charges.]
no subject
In a sense, it was the same sort of base strategy the one engaging Aaron had in mind, even as it retraced, lingered on the scent trail left behind by the man. Fury heated his blood, but the orders of the alpha remained with him. These people - at least some of them - were to be left alive and brought back as whole as whatever means were necessary in capturing them would allow... so with this in mind, he followed after, not exactly subtle as his breaths huffed in the dusty air.
-- But then the alpha screamed- if not totally distracting the others, at least grabbing their attention. Stabbed and attacked, hit and bowled over, however, the viciousness displayed by the apparent leader only warped, an abrupt whirlwind of savageness as she snapped wildly at Casval's arms and face and everywhere she could reach, all four clawed limbs tearing at clothing and the weight pushing against her.
no subject
Blood still streaming down his arm from the alpha's jagged bite, Jack doesn't wait to get mauled again, closing the distance quickly and delivering a savage kick to the head of the creature Kotetsu already downed to daze him. Standing over him, one foot on the beast's chest, Jack slices downward, cutting through the kevlar vest like butter, straight through to flesh and organs, twisting the knife in a smooth gut-spilling curve as he finishes the stroke.
Two down, two to go. Heh.
no subject
When it does, he leaps down, using both the strength that is his own and the strength lent by gravity to bring the rebar down onto the wolf's head. A sword would have cleaved it in two. A metal bar...well, that's best left to the imagination.
no subject