12-04-2016, 10:49 PM
Okay so this was bad right? Yeah, yeah this was pretty shitty. Feeling the worn ivory handles of his clubs materialize into his palms gave Gamzee a small yet potent amount of comfort. Theoretically, all the clown would have to do is smack the wolf man in the back of his noggin hard enough and/or a few times, and Peter would fall unconscious. Getting a knock out was the name of the game here, not a fatality. In fact, it would be most preferable if there were no fatalities here. Man, it’d really suck if Strazio and Gamzee had come all this way and survived all the deadly nonsense the Pale Moors had to offer only to be struck down by the very person they were trying to save.
Turning his attention to the task at hand, the Bard of Rage is promptly knocked on his ass for the second time in the past sixty or so seconds. Peter had caught him off guard, had barrelled into the alien at full speed. Gamzee was only lucky that the attack was more smash than grab. His body was flung into a flip flopping pirouette of epic proportions, straight into a tree. The beast was clambering, sprinting, bounding on all fours to Gamzee Makara, who was only just barely up in time to dive out of the way of the wild charge. Peter, for all his effort, slammed his head right into the same tree that had broken Gamzee’s fall.
The repetitive reoccurance of idiots being flung or flinging themselves into the column of wood caused it to crack and splinter. The tree groaned and creaked, timber tilting and threatening to topple over.
Gamzee stared at the tree with a look of abject terror. Peter, who was busy shaking his snout about wildly in an effort to clear the stars from his eyes, didn’t notice the tree in time to avoid getting crushed by the wooden giant. It falls on the werewolf, sending up a huge cloud of dust consisting of miasma and dead pollen. The alien gasped, genuine worry and anxiety present in his gleaming purple eyes.
“P...Peter?”
Silence.
Aw shit. Aw shit, no. No! Just as the juggalo was about to start weeping and mourning, the same fallen forest guardian that had come crashing down just a moment ago burst from the cloud of dust, high into the bleak, dreary sky.
Gamzee grins a big goofy grin, swaying back and forth, watching the big ass tree tumble through the air on its descent back to earth.
“It’s a motherfuckin’ miracle!”
The fool began to giggle profusely, uncontrollably. He danced and leaped around, juggling his colorful weapons as he went. The tree crashes to the ground once again, this time right where Gamzee stood awestruck moments ago. He yipped and howled and bounced towards where he could only hope a vulnerable Peter stood, ready for Gamzee to knock him out and give him the medicine. The royal High Blood was saved once again by his own whimsy, his childishness, and his utter stupidity.
------
Strazio and Aurelias stared each other down, a good few paces away from each other. The revenant’s dead hand coiled around his ornate, ridiculously deadly looking crossbow. It was not aimed at Strazio, but rest instead at his side, ready to be drawn and fired in a moment’s notice.
White, scorching magicks sparked and nipped all down the Ragey Magey’s arms, the volatile energy coincidentally ALSO ready to be fired in a moment’s notice.
Well, Well, Well. Looks like we got us and old fashioned stand off.
If one were to be spectating this spectacle, they could practically hear the melodic chords of the “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” theme song playing in the background. One supposes that Aurelias would hold the spot of Ugly, Gamzee the title of Good, and Strazio the position of Bad. Peter could take up all three, if he so wished.
Speaking of Peter and Gamzee, the more colorful, more altogether stupid of the two creatures was promptly sent flying across the battlefield in an odd flip flopping sort of manner. His body somersaulted briefly in between the two serious figures locked in a staring competition. And in that moment, time seemed to slow.
Strazio blinks.
His apprentice, flying upside down, flashes him a wave and a thumbs up.
The Defender of Darkshire blinks again.
A silent feathered pointy stick of death comes flying for the mage’s face, passing right between the clowns splayed legs. Strazio swears and tosses a burning bolt of magick, incinerating the bolt and skimming Gamzee’s hip. The projectile barely avoides taking Aurelias’ head clean off.
The moment ended, adrenaline subsiding and time resuming its normal pace. Gamzee landed into a fancy little tumble roll, recovering in such a fashion that he faced his quarry. A snorting, sluggish, and all together haphazard looking werewolf cantered slowly up to the three, all four strange beings equidistant from each other.
“Ya’ll come here often?” The fool shouts, making himself heard with a smile. Strawso snorts, his eyes not leaving the undead hunter before him. The lycanthrope’s breathing was laboured and heavy, Peter’s veins burning from the silver that coursed through them.
“Uh, excuse me bros. I’m just gonna kinda...yeah. Ya know.” Gamzee awkwardly kinda sidesteps past the two Serious Sallys currently engaged in a standoff. As soon as Peter could smell the thick syrupy scent of Faygo, the werewolf lets loose a weak little roar, obviously worn down and fading fast from the injuries sustained not by the troll, but by Aurelias’ silver tipped crossbow bolts. With each approaching footfall, little purple sparklies shimmy and swirl around Gamzee’s arms, descending in a mad spiral to coil themselves around his two juggling pins. His weapons crackled with rage lightning, while a warm, genuine smile dominated his face.
“Now don’t worry, my man. This’ll only sting for like, uh, half a motherfucking second or so. I dunno man, I ain’t really good with the wasting away of time and such. Or anything to really do with them crazy numbers, know what I-”
The friendly stoner’s rambling was cut short by a vicious furry backhand to the noggin, sending him stumbling backwards to plop his little ass into the dead dirt.
“Now that just wasn’t very brotherly of you, my dude,” He said, pushing himself off the ground with a groan.
Peter snorts and scrambles to and fro, but his veins are filled with lead, his skin is burning and his will is breaking. He swiped once again, claws poised to rake out Gamzee’s beautiful amethyst eyes, but the Bard deftly weaves past the attack, sparked club smacking into the back of the werewolf’s skull for an electrically charged K.O.
The clown, thoroughly pleased with his nonlethal takedown, smiled and began digging around in his impossibly deep pockets for the antidote so that he could-
Where’s the antidote?
The alien teen whipped his head wildly around, dropped down into the dirt on all fours and skittered around trying to find the vial of shiny silver liquid. It is only after a few seconds of panicking and internal screaming that he looked up and back at the two duelists.
-----
Strazio had to stifle a groan and a strong desire to blow his brains out with a bolt of his own magic as his prodigy apprentice, Gamzee Makara, shuffled across the tainted arena towards a very injured, very pissed off werewolf. When Aurelias came back into view, his weapon was no longer drawn. Instead, it was laid gently beside him. The hunter himself was kneeling with his dead hands planted firmly in the dirt. Seeing this as an opportunity, the mage rushed Aurelias. This, as it turned out, was just not the best of ideas.
Sprinting full speed at his vulnerable opponent caused the young man to go face first into the cold hard forest floor when a skeletal hand erupted from the ground and latched onto his ankle. Before he could check to see if he had lost any teeth, another hand dug its way through the earth and then another and then another, all of them popping up like daisies, clinging to the Defender of Darkshire and keeping him pinned to the dirt. Strawso struggled and squirmed, trying to rip free of their grasp, but of course, in a cliche manner, the harder he fought the tighter they held. Aurelias calmly walked to his restrained aggressor, an emotionless face with only the smallest amount of pain shadowing his features.
The Revenant was not happy to be doing this. He was not happy to be doing anything. Quite literally, he would much rather be dead. Again.
The undead man levels the sights of his crossbow on Strazio’s skull. The Revenant was not really happy to be doing this either.
Just as he lets loose a silver bolt, the boy’s form melts into a amalgamation of dancing sparks that fade through the bony fingers and out a few good feet away from harm. They amass once again in such a cascading fashion that Strazio sprints into existence, slinging a couple of righteous bolts of his own at Aurelias’ spindly form. The hunter moves, but doesn’t move at all, and the magic missiles avoid him entirely.
But Strazio himself, does not.
He tackles his annoying attacker, raining blow upon blow down on his grey, ugly face. About aroouuunnnd punch number nine or ten, however, his fist slammed into dust. Aurelias had melted into the ground itself, only to reappear a few paces in front of the mage. With a huff, Strazio stands up. The frustration of an elusive punching bag is not lost on him. Takes a pitcher stance, his rage magic coursing through his veins and swirling around his hands. Here comes the wind up.
And here’s the pitch and-
*tink*
The toe of his boot catches something hard and shiny and glass and oh shit it’s Peter’s antidote. For half a split second, Strazio almost debates just letting the bottle drop, letting it shatter. He could say fuck it, kill Aurelias and let Peter die a slow death from silver poisoning.
And then he thinks about Mama Godwin’s warm smile and the tears she shed for Peter and realizes that that’s not a guilt trip worth taking. In his mind Strawso is swearing at himself. He hates that he does, indeed, have a heart.
The mage surges forward, sparks eating up air and distance and space to envelope the bottle and cradle it softly to the ground. He coalesces, sitting on the ground clutching the cure for dear life. And then, he takes an arrow to the shoulder, piercing pain pouring through his left side.
Strazio screams and yells and hollers, launching to his feet and rearing around ready to chuck the fucking antidote at the Revenant’s fucking face and just as he’s about to, just as he’s about to damn Peter to a death he doesn’t deserve, a grey, soda-sticky hand latches on to his wrist.
“Ey Strawso, I’mma need that motherfucking wicked elixir bro.”
SIGH.
In that moment, Strazio Rockwell wanted nothing more than to break that fucking bottle over the undead man’s head/face area. He reluctantly, released the flask from his shaky grasp. Ever so calmly, his apprentice takes the antidote and plods off, assumingly to administer it to the unconscious and dying Peter.
Gamzee kneels down, uncorks the stopper, and puts the potion to Peter’s lips.
-----
Aurelias didn’t really know what to think about all of this, this in part due to the fact that he isn’t necessarily allowed to have thoughts of his own. For the most part, that is. He would sigh, if he breathed. That antidote would cure the unholy beast of his affliction, but while he is still an unholy beast, he must die.
This does not really compute or translate properly in the grand scheme of magical necromancy laws.
Is he faced with a choice, in this situation? No, of course not. He has no choice. From the moment he last drew breath, there was no choice for him. The Revenant raises his weapon and aims down range, right on the beast’s head. He is in the way. He must be moved OUT of the way. The easiest way to do this, is to kill him.
Aurelias levels the bead of his sights right between Gamzee Makara’s horns and pulls the trigger.
Turning his attention to the task at hand, the Bard of Rage is promptly knocked on his ass for the second time in the past sixty or so seconds. Peter had caught him off guard, had barrelled into the alien at full speed. Gamzee was only lucky that the attack was more smash than grab. His body was flung into a flip flopping pirouette of epic proportions, straight into a tree. The beast was clambering, sprinting, bounding on all fours to Gamzee Makara, who was only just barely up in time to dive out of the way of the wild charge. Peter, for all his effort, slammed his head right into the same tree that had broken Gamzee’s fall.
The repetitive reoccurance of idiots being flung or flinging themselves into the column of wood caused it to crack and splinter. The tree groaned and creaked, timber tilting and threatening to topple over.
Gamzee stared at the tree with a look of abject terror. Peter, who was busy shaking his snout about wildly in an effort to clear the stars from his eyes, didn’t notice the tree in time to avoid getting crushed by the wooden giant. It falls on the werewolf, sending up a huge cloud of dust consisting of miasma and dead pollen. The alien gasped, genuine worry and anxiety present in his gleaming purple eyes.
“P...Peter?”
Silence.
Aw shit. Aw shit, no. No! Just as the juggalo was about to start weeping and mourning, the same fallen forest guardian that had come crashing down just a moment ago burst from the cloud of dust, high into the bleak, dreary sky.
Gamzee grins a big goofy grin, swaying back and forth, watching the big ass tree tumble through the air on its descent back to earth.
“It’s a motherfuckin’ miracle!”
The fool began to giggle profusely, uncontrollably. He danced and leaped around, juggling his colorful weapons as he went. The tree crashes to the ground once again, this time right where Gamzee stood awestruck moments ago. He yipped and howled and bounced towards where he could only hope a vulnerable Peter stood, ready for Gamzee to knock him out and give him the medicine. The royal High Blood was saved once again by his own whimsy, his childishness, and his utter stupidity.
------
Strazio and Aurelias stared each other down, a good few paces away from each other. The revenant’s dead hand coiled around his ornate, ridiculously deadly looking crossbow. It was not aimed at Strazio, but rest instead at his side, ready to be drawn and fired in a moment’s notice.
White, scorching magicks sparked and nipped all down the Ragey Magey’s arms, the volatile energy coincidentally ALSO ready to be fired in a moment’s notice.
Well, Well, Well. Looks like we got us and old fashioned stand off.
If one were to be spectating this spectacle, they could practically hear the melodic chords of the “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” theme song playing in the background. One supposes that Aurelias would hold the spot of Ugly, Gamzee the title of Good, and Strazio the position of Bad. Peter could take up all three, if he so wished.
Speaking of Peter and Gamzee, the more colorful, more altogether stupid of the two creatures was promptly sent flying across the battlefield in an odd flip flopping sort of manner. His body somersaulted briefly in between the two serious figures locked in a staring competition. And in that moment, time seemed to slow.
Strazio blinks.
His apprentice, flying upside down, flashes him a wave and a thumbs up.
The Defender of Darkshire blinks again.
A silent feathered pointy stick of death comes flying for the mage’s face, passing right between the clowns splayed legs. Strazio swears and tosses a burning bolt of magick, incinerating the bolt and skimming Gamzee’s hip. The projectile barely avoides taking Aurelias’ head clean off.
The moment ended, adrenaline subsiding and time resuming its normal pace. Gamzee landed into a fancy little tumble roll, recovering in such a fashion that he faced his quarry. A snorting, sluggish, and all together haphazard looking werewolf cantered slowly up to the three, all four strange beings equidistant from each other.
“Ya’ll come here often?” The fool shouts, making himself heard with a smile. Strawso snorts, his eyes not leaving the undead hunter before him. The lycanthrope’s breathing was laboured and heavy, Peter’s veins burning from the silver that coursed through them.
“Uh, excuse me bros. I’m just gonna kinda...yeah. Ya know.” Gamzee awkwardly kinda sidesteps past the two Serious Sallys currently engaged in a standoff. As soon as Peter could smell the thick syrupy scent of Faygo, the werewolf lets loose a weak little roar, obviously worn down and fading fast from the injuries sustained not by the troll, but by Aurelias’ silver tipped crossbow bolts. With each approaching footfall, little purple sparklies shimmy and swirl around Gamzee’s arms, descending in a mad spiral to coil themselves around his two juggling pins. His weapons crackled with rage lightning, while a warm, genuine smile dominated his face.
“Now don’t worry, my man. This’ll only sting for like, uh, half a motherfucking second or so. I dunno man, I ain’t really good with the wasting away of time and such. Or anything to really do with them crazy numbers, know what I-”
The friendly stoner’s rambling was cut short by a vicious furry backhand to the noggin, sending him stumbling backwards to plop his little ass into the dead dirt.
“Now that just wasn’t very brotherly of you, my dude,” He said, pushing himself off the ground with a groan.
Peter snorts and scrambles to and fro, but his veins are filled with lead, his skin is burning and his will is breaking. He swiped once again, claws poised to rake out Gamzee’s beautiful amethyst eyes, but the Bard deftly weaves past the attack, sparked club smacking into the back of the werewolf’s skull for an electrically charged K.O.
The clown, thoroughly pleased with his nonlethal takedown, smiled and began digging around in his impossibly deep pockets for the antidote so that he could-
Where’s the antidote?
The alien teen whipped his head wildly around, dropped down into the dirt on all fours and skittered around trying to find the vial of shiny silver liquid. It is only after a few seconds of panicking and internal screaming that he looked up and back at the two duelists.
-----
Strazio had to stifle a groan and a strong desire to blow his brains out with a bolt of his own magic as his prodigy apprentice, Gamzee Makara, shuffled across the tainted arena towards a very injured, very pissed off werewolf. When Aurelias came back into view, his weapon was no longer drawn. Instead, it was laid gently beside him. The hunter himself was kneeling with his dead hands planted firmly in the dirt. Seeing this as an opportunity, the mage rushed Aurelias. This, as it turned out, was just not the best of ideas.
Sprinting full speed at his vulnerable opponent caused the young man to go face first into the cold hard forest floor when a skeletal hand erupted from the ground and latched onto his ankle. Before he could check to see if he had lost any teeth, another hand dug its way through the earth and then another and then another, all of them popping up like daisies, clinging to the Defender of Darkshire and keeping him pinned to the dirt. Strawso struggled and squirmed, trying to rip free of their grasp, but of course, in a cliche manner, the harder he fought the tighter they held. Aurelias calmly walked to his restrained aggressor, an emotionless face with only the smallest amount of pain shadowing his features.
The Revenant was not happy to be doing this. He was not happy to be doing anything. Quite literally, he would much rather be dead. Again.
The undead man levels the sights of his crossbow on Strazio’s skull. The Revenant was not really happy to be doing this either.
Just as he lets loose a silver bolt, the boy’s form melts into a amalgamation of dancing sparks that fade through the bony fingers and out a few good feet away from harm. They amass once again in such a cascading fashion that Strazio sprints into existence, slinging a couple of righteous bolts of his own at Aurelias’ spindly form. The hunter moves, but doesn’t move at all, and the magic missiles avoid him entirely.
But Strazio himself, does not.
He tackles his annoying attacker, raining blow upon blow down on his grey, ugly face. About aroouuunnnd punch number nine or ten, however, his fist slammed into dust. Aurelias had melted into the ground itself, only to reappear a few paces in front of the mage. With a huff, Strazio stands up. The frustration of an elusive punching bag is not lost on him. Takes a pitcher stance, his rage magic coursing through his veins and swirling around his hands. Here comes the wind up.
And here’s the pitch and-
*tink*
The toe of his boot catches something hard and shiny and glass and oh shit it’s Peter’s antidote. For half a split second, Strazio almost debates just letting the bottle drop, letting it shatter. He could say fuck it, kill Aurelias and let Peter die a slow death from silver poisoning.
And then he thinks about Mama Godwin’s warm smile and the tears she shed for Peter and realizes that that’s not a guilt trip worth taking. In his mind Strawso is swearing at himself. He hates that he does, indeed, have a heart.
The mage surges forward, sparks eating up air and distance and space to envelope the bottle and cradle it softly to the ground. He coalesces, sitting on the ground clutching the cure for dear life. And then, he takes an arrow to the shoulder, piercing pain pouring through his left side.
Strazio screams and yells and hollers, launching to his feet and rearing around ready to chuck the fucking antidote at the Revenant’s fucking face and just as he’s about to, just as he’s about to damn Peter to a death he doesn’t deserve, a grey, soda-sticky hand latches on to his wrist.
“Ey Strawso, I’mma need that motherfucking wicked elixir bro.”
SIGH.
In that moment, Strazio Rockwell wanted nothing more than to break that fucking bottle over the undead man’s head/face area. He reluctantly, released the flask from his shaky grasp. Ever so calmly, his apprentice takes the antidote and plods off, assumingly to administer it to the unconscious and dying Peter.
Gamzee kneels down, uncorks the stopper, and puts the potion to Peter’s lips.
-----
Aurelias didn’t really know what to think about all of this, this in part due to the fact that he isn’t necessarily allowed to have thoughts of his own. For the most part, that is. He would sigh, if he breathed. That antidote would cure the unholy beast of his affliction, but while he is still an unholy beast, he must die.
This does not really compute or translate properly in the grand scheme of magical necromancy laws.
Is he faced with a choice, in this situation? No, of course not. He has no choice. From the moment he last drew breath, there was no choice for him. The Revenant raises his weapon and aims down range, right on the beast’s head. He is in the way. He must be moved OUT of the way. The easiest way to do this, is to kill him.
Aurelias levels the bead of his sights right between Gamzee Makara’s horns and pulls the trigger.
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-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover