12-10-2016, 05:07 PM
The glass Katana shore straight through the dueling cane and the Sage had to arch his back as he landed to avoid Hiro’s follow-through. He had an opening however, and thrust the stump of the dueling cane forward striking the Hacker Samurai in the throat with the heavy wood. Hiro staggered backwards, coughing hard, to lean against the edge of the roof-top. The Sage could feel his power waning, his energy fleeing his form as he began to regress in age again. It was time to end this, and fast.
Dashing forward, he snatched up the second end of his dueling cane, and wielding them both as impromptu billy clubs, smacked them together into the sides of his opponent’s head. The Ronin’s eyes rolled backwards and he fell backwards over the edge of the roof into the alleyway below. The Sage winced at the resulting crash and peered over the edge. The lucky man had landed in a pile of trash bags, but he didn’t seem like he’d be getting up quickly.
There was little to be proud of in this victory. The bounty hunter had been right about his accusations; the Sage had the blood of multiple Imperial agents on his hands. Even the man he had killed them to assist seemed unappreciative of the help he had given. It seemed the Kingdom was no more appreciative of assistance than their rivals. The imperial agents he had slain may not have deserved their fate and he doubted that the semi-conscious man in the alley below him did either.
The sound of police sirens brought the Sage’s attention back to the situation before him. There were numerous witnesses to his fight with the Bio-weapon and its handler, and he needed to get away from the situation before things got particularly messy. Tossing the broken ends of the dueling cane over the edge after his erstwhile foe. The chatter of Cinnabar’s law enforcement grew louder still; he would need to make himself scarce. Turning he started to rush towards another roof top, but pain arched all across his chest and he dropped to one knee clutching at the deep wound. He was still way to close to the crime scene, they would be sure to find him here.
With a growl of determination, The Sage struggled to his feet, and reached the edge of the roof. The back alley was a good fifteen feet below him, but there was little choice now… he needed to get away. With a heave he pitched himself over the edge, holding onto the lip, before dropping the ten or so feet to the ground below. His ankle rolled painfully under him as he landed, and he had to stifle a cry of pain. Slowly, he began crawling down the alley, he needed distance. He needed to heal. He needed to think. He needed time.
Dashing forward, he snatched up the second end of his dueling cane, and wielding them both as impromptu billy clubs, smacked them together into the sides of his opponent’s head. The Ronin’s eyes rolled backwards and he fell backwards over the edge of the roof into the alleyway below. The Sage winced at the resulting crash and peered over the edge. The lucky man had landed in a pile of trash bags, but he didn’t seem like he’d be getting up quickly.
There was little to be proud of in this victory. The bounty hunter had been right about his accusations; the Sage had the blood of multiple Imperial agents on his hands. Even the man he had killed them to assist seemed unappreciative of the help he had given. It seemed the Kingdom was no more appreciative of assistance than their rivals. The imperial agents he had slain may not have deserved their fate and he doubted that the semi-conscious man in the alley below him did either.
The sound of police sirens brought the Sage’s attention back to the situation before him. There were numerous witnesses to his fight with the Bio-weapon and its handler, and he needed to get away from the situation before things got particularly messy. Tossing the broken ends of the dueling cane over the edge after his erstwhile foe. The chatter of Cinnabar’s law enforcement grew louder still; he would need to make himself scarce. Turning he started to rush towards another roof top, but pain arched all across his chest and he dropped to one knee clutching at the deep wound. He was still way to close to the crime scene, they would be sure to find him here.
With a growl of determination, The Sage struggled to his feet, and reached the edge of the roof. The back alley was a good fifteen feet below him, but there was little choice now… he needed to get away. With a heave he pitched himself over the edge, holding onto the lip, before dropping the ten or so feet to the ground below. His ankle rolled painfully under him as he landed, and he had to stifle a cry of pain. Slowly, he began crawling down the alley, he needed distance. He needed to heal. He needed to think. He needed time.
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.