02-17-2018, 11:33 PM
Rather than words, the young huntress's demand was met only with a near silent, rasping chuckle and a teeth-baring grin. He didn't move forward to greet her charge, only shifted his posture to await her incoming attack. She met him with the full force of her momentum behind her, rapier leading the way. Lightning quick, several jabs poked and shredded at his frame, tearing holes and gashes in the cassock that signified his office. Blood poured freely and ran in thick streams, splattering the ashen ground; every drop spat forth growths of flowers and grasses, covered in thorns the dull gray of death.
And through it all, Alexander Anderson only let himself get pushed back, putting up a token defense to batter aside a particularly worrisome blow here and there.
"Why aren't you fighting back?!" the young huntress demanded, her voice mangled and distorted by the festering corruption that had taken root. "After that...that idiotic challenge, this is what you do?!" She hopped back, squaring off for another thrust of her blade, and this time the old man responded.
In a blur of movement, a streak of gray and white, his left arm came up, meeting the blade of the rapier with his bare hand. The weapon skewered through his palm, piercing it with a fountain of blood even as he pushed forward, driving the weapon into a deeper impalement, until his fingers closed around the intricate pommel. His glasses flashed, the glare of blue and silver light flickering and sputtering long enough to show his eyes. Wide, staring, manic, almost trembling in his wrath-filled glee. The sheer insanity in that gaze, of what he had just done, gave Weiss only a moment of pause. Just enough to startle and slow her, that the assassin of God was able to wrest her rapier from her grasp. Ripping it from her hands, still locked in his one-handed embrace. He had lost a hand, for now; she had lost her weapon.
His free hand shot forward, hand bared in a wide, grasping cast, seeking for her throat. But her senses returned in time for her to evade, ducking low under the swiping talons of his gloved hand. The words 'Jesus Christ is in Heaven', scrawled in a messy hand over an inscribed cross, flashed through her vision on the back of the glove. Then she struck on her own, a quick one-two strike with both hands right at the Paladin's midsection. Both blows hit full-on, resounding impacts that forced Anderson back a pace each. To a normal man it might have knocked the wind clean out of him, brought him low and ripe for a follow-up...it just forced a laugh out of Anderson.
His left arm hanging limp, still grasping the rapier impaled in his hand securely, he gave his right arm a flourish, producing one of his silver blades from within his sleeve, dropping into his grasp. It twirled, deftly, twisting into a reverse grip. "Yeh've got fire in yer heart, lass..." He finally spoke, before lurching forward into a quick swipe of his newly-brandished blade. "...it's a pity yer condition. Fallen so far as ye have...an' through no fault o' yer own!" he hissed, the bayonet streaking through a quick arc. The young huntress ducked the blow, both hands issuing a red glow as she prepared her own counter.
She was interrupted by the holy man spinning with the momentum of his missed slash, drawing his leg up into a kick. It caught her full in the side, crashing against an arm and smashing it into her ribs, leaving her to topple over and roll along the ground. She was rattled, but not knocked senseless, and managed to recover in time to flip up and away from the point of a blade burying itself in the constantly-shifting dreamscape, where her head had been laying just an instant before.
"If you know it's not my fault, then why are you judging me for it?!" she snapped, immediately bolting back for him. It was a crazed, feral lunge, and she leaped forward, one hand smashing against the larger man's face, the other surging forward to deliver a bolt of that same red energy for a follow up, leaving him to stagger back, head shrouded in smoke, and topple to the ground. Without missing a beat, she was after him, reaching down to rip her rapier from his twitching hand.
She paid for it by finding her weapon arm grasped in his now freed hand. Blood-slicked fingers made for an unsteady, slippery grasp, but it was enough to hold her fast for the split-second he needed to regain his feet. His glasses, one lens smashed, now sat askew on his face. "Why?" he repeated. "Why do I judge ye?!" He laughed, a crazed noise from somewhere deep in his chest. "Because it is MY MISSION!" And he lurched forward, his forehead colliding with hers to drive her down, sending her stumbling and staggering, releasing her from his grasp to take hold of another of his blessed blades in his mangled hand. "Regardless of its source, whatever the host it takes root in, filth the likes of which claws at your soul will be rooted out and crushed, until it is nothing more than dust and ash!"
Both blades spun and twirled in his hands, as he raked them over one another. A shower of sparks fell to the ground as he advanced, casting his face into shadow from the flickering light. "It has been handed down, by His almighty decree; and so it shall be done!" His face split into a deranged grin, teeth bared in a wordless, silent snarl. "AAAAAAAAAAMEN!"
And he struck, both blades sweeping in from either side, like the maw of a beast, clamoring for her flesh; to remove her head from where it sat, in one fell swoop.
And through it all, Alexander Anderson only let himself get pushed back, putting up a token defense to batter aside a particularly worrisome blow here and there.
"Why aren't you fighting back?!" the young huntress demanded, her voice mangled and distorted by the festering corruption that had taken root. "After that...that idiotic challenge, this is what you do?!" She hopped back, squaring off for another thrust of her blade, and this time the old man responded.
In a blur of movement, a streak of gray and white, his left arm came up, meeting the blade of the rapier with his bare hand. The weapon skewered through his palm, piercing it with a fountain of blood even as he pushed forward, driving the weapon into a deeper impalement, until his fingers closed around the intricate pommel. His glasses flashed, the glare of blue and silver light flickering and sputtering long enough to show his eyes. Wide, staring, manic, almost trembling in his wrath-filled glee. The sheer insanity in that gaze, of what he had just done, gave Weiss only a moment of pause. Just enough to startle and slow her, that the assassin of God was able to wrest her rapier from her grasp. Ripping it from her hands, still locked in his one-handed embrace. He had lost a hand, for now; she had lost her weapon.
His free hand shot forward, hand bared in a wide, grasping cast, seeking for her throat. But her senses returned in time for her to evade, ducking low under the swiping talons of his gloved hand. The words 'Jesus Christ is in Heaven', scrawled in a messy hand over an inscribed cross, flashed through her vision on the back of the glove. Then she struck on her own, a quick one-two strike with both hands right at the Paladin's midsection. Both blows hit full-on, resounding impacts that forced Anderson back a pace each. To a normal man it might have knocked the wind clean out of him, brought him low and ripe for a follow-up...it just forced a laugh out of Anderson.
His left arm hanging limp, still grasping the rapier impaled in his hand securely, he gave his right arm a flourish, producing one of his silver blades from within his sleeve, dropping into his grasp. It twirled, deftly, twisting into a reverse grip. "Yeh've got fire in yer heart, lass..." He finally spoke, before lurching forward into a quick swipe of his newly-brandished blade. "...it's a pity yer condition. Fallen so far as ye have...an' through no fault o' yer own!" he hissed, the bayonet streaking through a quick arc. The young huntress ducked the blow, both hands issuing a red glow as she prepared her own counter.
She was interrupted by the holy man spinning with the momentum of his missed slash, drawing his leg up into a kick. It caught her full in the side, crashing against an arm and smashing it into her ribs, leaving her to topple over and roll along the ground. She was rattled, but not knocked senseless, and managed to recover in time to flip up and away from the point of a blade burying itself in the constantly-shifting dreamscape, where her head had been laying just an instant before.
"If you know it's not my fault, then why are you judging me for it?!" she snapped, immediately bolting back for him. It was a crazed, feral lunge, and she leaped forward, one hand smashing against the larger man's face, the other surging forward to deliver a bolt of that same red energy for a follow up, leaving him to stagger back, head shrouded in smoke, and topple to the ground. Without missing a beat, she was after him, reaching down to rip her rapier from his twitching hand.
She paid for it by finding her weapon arm grasped in his now freed hand. Blood-slicked fingers made for an unsteady, slippery grasp, but it was enough to hold her fast for the split-second he needed to regain his feet. His glasses, one lens smashed, now sat askew on his face. "Why?" he repeated. "Why do I judge ye?!" He laughed, a crazed noise from somewhere deep in his chest. "Because it is MY MISSION!" And he lurched forward, his forehead colliding with hers to drive her down, sending her stumbling and staggering, releasing her from his grasp to take hold of another of his blessed blades in his mangled hand. "Regardless of its source, whatever the host it takes root in, filth the likes of which claws at your soul will be rooted out and crushed, until it is nothing more than dust and ash!"
Both blades spun and twirled in his hands, as he raked them over one another. A shower of sparks fell to the ground as he advanced, casting his face into shadow from the flickering light. "It has been handed down, by His almighty decree; and so it shall be done!" His face split into a deranged grin, teeth bared in a wordless, silent snarl. "AAAAAAAAAAMEN!"
And he struck, both blades sweeping in from either side, like the maw of a beast, clamoring for her flesh; to remove her head from where it sat, in one fell swoop.
Quote:Word Count: 980 (according to wordcounter.net)
Weiss used Myrtenaster to tear Anderson up; he Survival'd through it and then ripped it out of her hand
Anderson and Weiss traded some blows and melee combat for a bit
Weiss got ANGERY and delivered a Bala to Anderson's face to get her sword back
Anderson unleashed his inner religion powers to go for a counter
![[Image: kUpgBYg.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/kUpgBYg.gif)