02-23-2018, 02:00 AM
Myrtenaster’s blade was embedded firmly in the ground, as Weiss took the seconds of time she’d obtained between opponents to regain some energy. This was all…
Meaningless. All of it. These people didn’t fight to save someone, or to protect something they held dear, and she knew self-preservation wasn’t on the minds of the others.
This was bloodlust and hatred and a simple love of violence and death, a tapestry of violence, and she’d been forcibly stitched into the cloth. Her hands clasped around the hilt of her blade, partly out of frustration at this turn of events.
Weiss pulled the blade from the ground as she addressed the other problem.
The bayonet from behind was met with the tip of her silver rapier, sending the weapon into a spin. The huntress grabbed the blade, as she turned, hooking the weapon into the links of the chain blade behind her. Kuzuru stood behind it with a simple, pointed grin.
The bayonet was yanked from the huntress’s grasp, and Weiss was forced to block a savage blade manifesting directly from his arm. The weapon stopped just short of piercing through her heart.
“Well, you’re not important enough to be on my list, but I’ve got no problem taking your head anyways, ice queen.”
“Shut up.” Weiss snapped, her voice reverberating as she spoke, her free hand brushing across her face. Ebon energy swirled from her hand like ink from a painter’s brush, putting the finishing touches on a grisly mask of bones and teeth. Anderson, she could understand. Okor, she respected. But this grinning barbarian? He’d started this fight for nothing but his own entertainment.
“You are the most vile person I’ve met since I entered the omniverse.”
The furious huntress slowly broke the deadlock, pushing his blade away with a grunt. She followed up with a heavy kick to the stomach, sending the Ashen Blades’ leader back into the dirt half a dozen feet away.
The demon would have to wait, though, as she turned to see Anderson’s angered glare - and a pair of glittering blades. Weiss’s blade rushed to meet Anderson’s bayonets, silver on silver.
Before the melee could continue, both warriors were caught off guard by a pair of shots from behind. Weiss’s nerves were slightly deadened by her hollowfication, and it was only that factor that stopped her from collapsing to the ground. A gasp was all her lungs could manage as she once again felt the agony of burning phosphex.
Weiss stumbled back a couple steps at the feeling, and even Anderson’s face seemed to curl up into a wince as the pair of shots burned. A combination of the sound of metal clanking against bone, her own senses, and Anderson’s expression coming as close as she’d seen to concern was what motivated Weiss to jump back as far as possible, crossing a dozen feet in a single bound.
Had she done so a second later, she would have felt worse pain in the midst of Okor’s blight grenade.
She turned quickly to see the plague marine, firing at another opponent with the last of his phosphex. At this moment, it didn’t matter who. His movements were faster, his technique noticeably more pronounced than the last time they’d crossed blades. They locked visored eyes from across the battlefield, and for just a second, the two stared one another down.
The glare Weiss had held since the beginning of this battle softened as she stared at the mask that kept Okors face an enigma. The battle was unavoidable, but Weiss knew there was no enmity between either of them. Merely the grim understanding of their purpose in this circus of butchers.
Weiss tensed. The marine switched to his automatic bolter and opened fire. The huntress dodged the bullets reflexively, slowly, patiently waiting on the hail of ammunition to start to run dry. She still remembered the trauma and pain of their last battle in the Colosseum. In the day, she cursed all the things she could have done differently. In the night? She saw every detail again in her worst nightmares, reliving the pain over and over.
As she dodged through the swarm though, she remembered one important thing from that fatal confrontation:
The number of bullets in his clips.
Weiss wasted no time, dashing forward just as the twenty third bullet zipped through the air. The hunter rolled under the last shot, before coming up with one hand pointed forward. The plague marine had not seen this ability of hers before, and the brief hesitation she saw in his form reflected that as she charged her cero to full power. The energy raked and clawed at the outer outlines of Okor’s form, and for the first time ever, she saw him raise his armored gauntlets to weather an attack.
Before he had time to recover, Weiss charged, striking with a harsh stab to the front of his armor, piercing through the ancient metal with an explosive burst of flame dust.
A hail of strikes from every angle immediately followed, as Weiss exploited every single seam and crack she could find in her opponent’s armor. The death guard’s parries were skillful, but Weiss’s speed was overwhelming. It was also burning away what little stamina Weiss had held onto, and the huntress knew she was about to gas out. Instead of trying to prolong the confrontation, Weiss threw Myrtenaster to the side, and the blade embedded itself into the solid rock of a nearby boulder. The movement caught Okor’s attention just long enough for Weiss to jump back, channeling all the anger and fear she’d felt in their last battle into her palms. The emotions came back freely, and turned to unholy power, wrapping around her hands with a soft crimson light.
The hollowfied huntress released that energy with a hail of punches towards Okor, each jab throwing a blast of solid energy directly at Okor’s helm in a fierce barrage of destructive force.
Meaningless. All of it. These people didn’t fight to save someone, or to protect something they held dear, and she knew self-preservation wasn’t on the minds of the others.
This was bloodlust and hatred and a simple love of violence and death, a tapestry of violence, and she’d been forcibly stitched into the cloth. Her hands clasped around the hilt of her blade, partly out of frustration at this turn of events.
Weiss pulled the blade from the ground as she addressed the other problem.
The bayonet from behind was met with the tip of her silver rapier, sending the weapon into a spin. The huntress grabbed the blade, as she turned, hooking the weapon into the links of the chain blade behind her. Kuzuru stood behind it with a simple, pointed grin.
The bayonet was yanked from the huntress’s grasp, and Weiss was forced to block a savage blade manifesting directly from his arm. The weapon stopped just short of piercing through her heart.
“Well, you’re not important enough to be on my list, but I’ve got no problem taking your head anyways, ice queen.”
“Shut up.” Weiss snapped, her voice reverberating as she spoke, her free hand brushing across her face. Ebon energy swirled from her hand like ink from a painter’s brush, putting the finishing touches on a grisly mask of bones and teeth. Anderson, she could understand. Okor, she respected. But this grinning barbarian? He’d started this fight for nothing but his own entertainment.
“You are the most vile person I’ve met since I entered the omniverse.”
The furious huntress slowly broke the deadlock, pushing his blade away with a grunt. She followed up with a heavy kick to the stomach, sending the Ashen Blades’ leader back into the dirt half a dozen feet away.
The demon would have to wait, though, as she turned to see Anderson’s angered glare - and a pair of glittering blades. Weiss’s blade rushed to meet Anderson’s bayonets, silver on silver.
Before the melee could continue, both warriors were caught off guard by a pair of shots from behind. Weiss’s nerves were slightly deadened by her hollowfication, and it was only that factor that stopped her from collapsing to the ground. A gasp was all her lungs could manage as she once again felt the agony of burning phosphex.
Weiss stumbled back a couple steps at the feeling, and even Anderson’s face seemed to curl up into a wince as the pair of shots burned. A combination of the sound of metal clanking against bone, her own senses, and Anderson’s expression coming as close as she’d seen to concern was what motivated Weiss to jump back as far as possible, crossing a dozen feet in a single bound.
Had she done so a second later, she would have felt worse pain in the midst of Okor’s blight grenade.
She turned quickly to see the plague marine, firing at another opponent with the last of his phosphex. At this moment, it didn’t matter who. His movements were faster, his technique noticeably more pronounced than the last time they’d crossed blades. They locked visored eyes from across the battlefield, and for just a second, the two stared one another down.
The glare Weiss had held since the beginning of this battle softened as she stared at the mask that kept Okors face an enigma. The battle was unavoidable, but Weiss knew there was no enmity between either of them. Merely the grim understanding of their purpose in this circus of butchers.
Weiss tensed. The marine switched to his automatic bolter and opened fire. The huntress dodged the bullets reflexively, slowly, patiently waiting on the hail of ammunition to start to run dry. She still remembered the trauma and pain of their last battle in the Colosseum. In the day, she cursed all the things she could have done differently. In the night? She saw every detail again in her worst nightmares, reliving the pain over and over.
As she dodged through the swarm though, she remembered one important thing from that fatal confrontation:
The number of bullets in his clips.
Weiss wasted no time, dashing forward just as the twenty third bullet zipped through the air. The hunter rolled under the last shot, before coming up with one hand pointed forward. The plague marine had not seen this ability of hers before, and the brief hesitation she saw in his form reflected that as she charged her cero to full power. The energy raked and clawed at the outer outlines of Okor’s form, and for the first time ever, she saw him raise his armored gauntlets to weather an attack.
Before he had time to recover, Weiss charged, striking with a harsh stab to the front of his armor, piercing through the ancient metal with an explosive burst of flame dust.
A hail of strikes from every angle immediately followed, as Weiss exploited every single seam and crack she could find in her opponent’s armor. The death guard’s parries were skillful, but Weiss’s speed was overwhelming. It was also burning away what little stamina Weiss had held onto, and the huntress knew she was about to gas out. Instead of trying to prolong the confrontation, Weiss threw Myrtenaster to the side, and the blade embedded itself into the solid rock of a nearby boulder. The movement caught Okor’s attention just long enough for Weiss to jump back, channeling all the anger and fear she’d felt in their last battle into her palms. The emotions came back freely, and turned to unholy power, wrapping around her hands with a soft crimson light.
The hollowfied huntress released that energy with a hail of punches towards Okor, each jab throwing a blast of solid energy directly at Okor’s helm in a fierce barrage of destructive force.
Quote: wordcount: 997 words according to wordcounter.net
*breathes in*
Summary:
Weiss ends up in the middle of a brutal melee between Anderson and Renji. She ends up using her T1 power-up: "An Ivory visor" to hollowfy and buff up.
She then kicks Renji away, gets into a bit of a spat with anderson, before taking a phosphex round to the back from Okor and fighting her hardest to beat back
She then dodges a bunch of bullets before slapping Okor around a bunch, and is now utterly exhausted until she takes some time due to using the barrage form of her "Bala" move.
![[Image: 1403536693-tumblr-mnt768ec7u1qcjxmlo2-r1-500.gif]](http://image.noelshack.com/fichiers/2014/26/1403536693-tumblr-mnt768ec7u1qcjxmlo2-r1-500.gif)