Kukulcan
NPC
God was a giant blood-thirsty sky snake.
Posts: 8
Full Name: Kukulcan
Species: Deity
Gender: Undefined
Homeworld: The Dream World
Height: Undefined
Weight: Undefined
OOC Name: The Staff
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Post by Kukulcan on Mar 23, 2014 20:39:47 GMT
Your characters awake in small, dark cells. At the front of the cell there appears to be a grate that allows them to look out onto the sandy arena. At the center of the arena three weapon racks stand with various weapons.
Above the arena, floating in the sky, is Kukulcan himself. He appears as a serpent so massive, his many thick coils are actually blocking out the cloudy, evening sky. These coils are constantly rolling over each other, almost like he is swimming. There are no visible wings on the snake, but the lack of wings obviously isn’t keeping him from flying. Around his head and down his spine is a cascade of colorful plumes and vibrant feathers, colored red, blue, green, and yellow. The rest of his shiny scales are a glistening emerald green.
“Fight and live,” said the towering feathered serpent to the combatants. “Or don’t, and die anyway.”
The gate at the front of the cell slides upwards, allowing the combatants into the arena.
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Mar 23, 2014 21:46:37 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ Oppenheimer awoke to a cold, hard surface against her only slightly warmer, slightly softer face. At first, she thought she simply blacked out (either due to exhaustion or head trauma) on a sidewalk or something like that. After blinking herself upright, she come to realize this was not the case. It was dark. Enclosed. The walls surrounding her were of wide stone brick. “What the fu…” She looked up to see a ceiling blocking out the night sky. It too was of imposing stone. But worst of all was the gated portcullis set before her. Suddenly, she felt very small-- even smaller than how she normally felt. Claustrophobia set in quickly after. “Let me out!” she shrieked, throwing herself at the metal grille. She violently shook it, grabbing the latticed bars with three points of contact: both hands and her steel-toe boot. She continued this screaming onslaught until she the gate shifted beneath her palms. While the gate lifted, she panted to catch her breath. In that short moment, the thought fully sunk into muddled pits her tired, little mind: she had absolutely no idea where she and what she was doing here. The last thing she remembered was traveling with two men of vastly different backgrounds, and now suddenly, this. Were all the previous events just a dream? Was this a dream too? This was some real inception type shit. That’s what she would have thought if Inception was a movie yet. Once the gate was winched open, she took tentative steps out of the cell. She looked down. It was sand. Soft. Like the sort used in gladiatorial combat to soak up freshly spilt blood. This was already boding poorly. But if none of the prior omens was any indication of that, there was one singular and undeniably sign of shit to come: the giant sky snake hovering in the sky. “What the FUCK!?” she repeated herself, with every bit of horror one confronted with a giant sky snake would have. She could hardly pry her eyes off the thing, but she noticed the rack of weapons on display in the center of the Arena. Oppenheimer could have practically guessed the giant sky snake’s next words, if she expected a giant sky snake to say something at all. But her next guess was definitely along the lines of ‘FIGHT FOR MY AMUSEMENT’. She was basically right. She narrowed her eyes and focused her sight ahead of her, watching for her opponent to enter to the Arena. She didn’t know what to make of situation, but it was painfully ironic, in the Alanis Morisette meaning of the word. She chose a life of fighting. It only made sense she was going to be forced a death of fighting too, if the giant sky snake was to be trusted. Giant sky snakes were either really wrong or really right, but she was willing to bet that it was willing to bet it was right. So now she had to prove it wrong. As much as Oppenheimer fought (and boy did she love it), she wasn't a murderer. Her fights were set up by, for, and between consenting adults. She never sought to kill anyone, unless they tried to kill her first. Maybe she could reason with her opponent. If they arrived here the same way she did, maybe they would be open to the idea of a truce or something. |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27 
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Mar 24, 2014 0:42:07 GMT
Fidget had not fainted.
He didn't care what anyone said, when face-to-face with a giant snake's head, Fidget had not screamed like a child and he most certainly had not passed out from terror. His constitution was stronger than that. Obviously his head injury had caught up with him at an inopportune but remarkably timed moment.
Regardless of how he'd become unconscious, Fidget was still amazed to find himself coming out of it. He should be digesting right about now, gently eroded away by whatever gastric acids existed within a snake's stomach, or suffocating to death because last he'd checked most stomachs didn't come with airholes. For a moment, Fidget wasn't entirely sure that wasn't happening. It was dark and his head was bleary, but it was too cold and hard to be something's digestive system- even a reptile's. Cold blooded didn't mean stone-cold.
He sat up and squinted. There was a grate at the end of the room that appeared to be the only source of light. Blinking around, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark, it seemed to be the only exit as well. A prisoner then. The mere thought left a sour taste in Fidget's mouth. He gently patted the back of his head. It was still bandaged, though his torn tinfoil hat had fallen off somewhere. He groped around, but found nothing. The sour taste got worse- he might as well be naked, really, without it.
Slowly getting to his feet, he stretched, and wandered over to peer out the grate. Usually he'd be more wary, but the wonderful thing about doors and grates was as much as they kept someone in, they were equally good at keeping other things out. Unfortunately, there was apparently nothing but sand and racks and more stone walls from what he could see.
He jerked away from the grate as the voice echoed down- fight or die, which, as far as Fidget was concerned, could very easily boil down to just 'die'. The grate clanked its way into the ceiling, and he recoiled further. Maybe he could just stay in here. No one needed to know.
Except for the fact that odds were, besides his anonymous 'opponent', there was likely no one else here, and as much as he loved a nice, cramped location, he had absolutely nothing to defend it. No wires, no explosives, nothing he could rig into a Rube Goldberg machine that could comically drop bowling balls on unsuspecting skulls or drive old nails into their shins and foot-soles if set off ('Comically', of course, if you were particularly twisted, or grew up on one-too-many violent cartoons. Fidget conveniently fit both.). He stepped into the arena.
Now Fidget could prove he hadn't fainted, because this snake was much, much larger than the last one, and would you look at that: Fidget was standing there with his shaking knees and constricting gullet, but still perfectly and wonderfully conscious, able to drink in the vision of a massive, undulating serpent as it blotted out the sky with it's rippling coils.
There was a God. God was a giant blood-thirsty sky snake. It explained so much.
There was a woman on the other side of the arena. She was far enough away that he couldn't really make out details, and was marginally blocked by weapon racks, but her personal rack was far more noticeable. Even from a distance, they made Fidget uncomfortable. She wouldn't have to beat him at all, she could just smother him to death, and frankly, he couldn't think of a more horrifying and disgusting way to die.
But then again, it could just be a gecko with an incredibly effective push-up. You never knew with reptoids, and since this was clearly some sort of reptoid equivalent of a gladiator match, Fidget was willing to make the logical conclusion that this was the kind where they brought out the exotic animals to duel their warriors to the death. That made him the exotic animal. The shitty, half-starved, pencil-neck exotic animal. He wondered if it was some sort of petty revenge against his work back home or if they were legitimately stupid enough to think he'd put up a good fight.
There wasn't going to be a fight. There wasn't even going to be a show, there was just going to be him and the woman and as much blood as a near forty-year-old man could produce. He wondered if he could outrace them to the weapons rack. He wondered if it would even matter.
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Mar 25, 2014 3:44:36 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ Even though it was dark and cloudy, Oppenheimer still had trouble seeing clearly. She was still confused. Unfocused. Why the fuck was she here? However, as soon as she could spot the figure approaching in the distance, her sight sharpened. With her senses alert, her heart paced swifter than a coursing river, pounding with all the power of a great typhoon. She had all the strength of a raging fire. This whole situation was as mysterious as the dark side of the moon. And her opponent was a man. Sort of. She was probably more of a man than he was, honestly. From what she could tell, he was a tall, gangly man in old clothes, like a corvoscweller. He looked like he would break if she simply punched him. If she struck him in the chest, his shoulder would literally meet in the middle. If she broke his nose, she’d break his neck in the process. If she kicked his ass, he’d go flying like a football in a record breaking 99 yard punt. There were so many observations she could make about this individual’s perceivable fragility.
“Who are you!? Why are we here!?” she called out, taking cover behind the weapon rack*. Obviously, she knew why they were here. The giant sky snake just told them. But whywhywhywhy were they here? Maybe he was a consenting participant and understood everything (despite his apparent unsuitedness for the job), in which case, she would promptly dispose of him. But in all likelihood, he wasn’t. He was probably just as baffled as she was, but she still proceeded with caution. Looks could be deceiving, right? *Despite the several weapons on display right in front of her, she opted for the familiarity of her wrench, pulling it out of the side of her boot. The brilliance of Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer was astounding.
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Mar 26, 2014 2:32:04 GMT
The woman ducked behind the weapons rack and Fidget snorted. Either she was more cowardly than he was or more paranoid, and he was rather confident that he had the paranoia market cornered.
He raised his hands at her question, half a shrug, half a way to prove he was unarmed. "Didn't you hear? We're going to murder each other to amuse the Overlord." He looked up, blanched, then looked back at the woman. "I thought he was pretty fucking clear. Who are you?"
He couldn't help but suspect it was some sort of front- an act of some sorts, to drop his guard. Make him think he had an ally, or that she was as confused as he was, a fellow pawn trapped in a game orchestrated by a malevolent creature with no more insight or preparation to the situation than himself. Fidget wasn't about to be fooled. She certainly looked strong enough to be a veteran fighter.
He took a few steps back. If she was going to charge him, he wanted a head start. Maybe he could make a break for the weapons, if he had the chance. Maybe he'd get one that wouldn't tear his arms from their sockets with its weight alone. Maybe he'd get a lucky shot and nick an artery that wasn't his. Maybe he'd survive long enough to fight in round two, or for however many rounds the maniac in the sky deemed appropriate. Maybe the snake would laugh, admit it was all a joke, and rain lollipops down on them.
There were shadows moving about in the stadium seats. Fidget tried to ignore them. He didn't know what they were or why they were watching- citizens, maybe, here to get their fill of gore before returning to their meaningless lives. Or holograms, there to give the illusion of an audience. He started searching the walls for cameras, but saw nothing. He returned his gaze to his opponent.
She was doing something back there. Picking out a weapon maybe. From where he stood, they seemed archaic- swords, some sort of spear, thick sticks and a spined club (Fidget felt his spine stiffen- he could imagine what any of those weapons could do to a body- his body- but for some reason the morbid image of the morning star embedding itself in his skull and lodging there, unmoving, refused to leave his mind.). It wouldn't be a swift death. He wondered if she was going to let him choose one as well, some sort of 'noble warrior honor' bullshit, though he found it difficult to believe that any cold-blooded lizard would even fake a code of ethics.
Fidget licked his lips. He needed a plan, but he doubted he had the time to make one.
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Mar 26, 2014 18:50:12 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ Oppenheimer cocked a brow at his language, tightening her grip on the wrench. How improper! Oppenheimer was already offended, and she was completely oblivious to the hypocrisy in that. She cursed like a sailor, but obviously, she only did it as a reaction to the vulgarity that she found herself surrounded by on a daily basis. “No shit, Sherlock. I don’t know about you, but I just woke up here, you taint-inspecting, nut-suckling bottle-fucker, and guess what? Still didn’t say who the fuck you are.” Until he answered her, she was going to call him 'Pencil Dick' (but she’d still probably call him that after she knew). She was kind of expecting some grand announcement, an introduction of the fighters to each other and the on-looking masses. There was none of that. She could see that there was a crowd watching in the bleachers, so the giant sky snake wasn’t the only one here to be entertained. Oppenheimer wasn’t bothered by shadowy figures. Everyone was shadowy where she was from, and it seemed the aristocrats were literally the shadiest of them all. So they were all a bunch of rich pricks indulging some sick form of entertainment (even though what she did was only one step above murder). She had to wonder why these two, herself and the pencil dick yelling obscenities at her, were high entertainment. Maybe there was something more to Pencil Dick than meets the eye. She was a good fighter, to be perfectly blunt. It wasn’t immodesty, it was simply just true. If this was a worthwhile fight, then he had to compensating somehow. Maybe he was a super genius-level MacGyver-esque mad scientist sort who could design and assemble technological wonders in a moment’s notice. He did have that 'crazy hermit' feel to him, and really, it was the only thing she could see him being. She tested the rack, lightly rocking it back and forth. The weapons clacked and clicked as they tipped against the wooden frame until she sat it back plumb. Yep, she could easily tip it over and more importantly, it was probably 200 lbs or more of equipment that he couldn’t pull himself from under if she were to shove it on him. So she waited for her opponent to get close enough. He would have to, eventually. He certainly wasn’t going to contend with her using his fists. |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Mar 27, 2014 0:44:25 GMT
Fidget shrugged. "Sorry, you asked such a stupid question I could only assume you were too brain-damaged to process it the first time. Thought maybe I'd petition the giant fucking snake to use smaller words than 'fight or die' next time, you know, really make sure you special ed kids know what you're doing. But hey, you wanna ask redundant fucking questions, go right ahead. You live your life the way you wanna live."
There was no emotion in his voice, other than the hard edge that came with being backed into a corner and frustrated at one's inability to get out of it. The insults rolled off of his back like water off a duck- he could appreciate their originality, honestly he was impressed. Or he would be if the woman wasn't going to kill him. The knowledge rather ruined his interest in awarding her any merits. No, instead he was going to go to his old play-ground method of handling a beating:
Mouthing off until they hit him and got it over with.
He never claimed it was a good method.
"Forgive me if I can't bring myself to feel insulted by a deployable airbag on legs." He watched her tip the weapons rack and flinched. He wondered if maybe she was going to start flinging them at him- he didn't doubt for a moment she had the upper body strength to do so, and with his luck, her aim was probably fantastic.
"Do you really need to know my name? Will it soothe your troubled soul to know the identity of the man you're gonna kill? Maybe just need it to make a better story at the bar- 'Ah yes, and then I crushed the skull of John Doe between my massive fucking tits, which, as you all know, is now my signature goddamn move. The crowd loved it.'"
She looked young. But looks meant shit-all when you were a shape-shifting reptile, she could be a doddering old veteran under all that glamour (Though it did occur to him that if she were a reptoid, she wouldn't need a disguise (And then it occurred to him that she'd said she'd just woken up- she could be lying, or a remarkably good actress, but there was no point to the act that he could decipher. He doubted she needed his guard down to finish the job.).).
He may have made a mistake.
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Mar 27, 2014 2:13:53 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ Her hand crept up her cheek. She was just going to be satisfied with that answer for now, but no one could say that she was the aggressor. She totally was, but shh. She demonstrated her ask questions now, shoot later attitude, and that was fair enough for her. She didn’t sigh, but the way she dragged her fingers back down her face communicated just how exasperated she really was. She only half-listened to him ramble on, because she was sure by his third sentence of insults that all it was going to be was an ESPN exclusive presentation on how she stupid she was or something along those lines-- and tit jokes. Those never got old, apparently. Oppenheimer placed one hand firmly around the outside rail and the other around the shelf between the Japanese harquebus and the Grecian crossbow. She picked it up, narrowing her eyes at the man through the shelves. He already took a few steps back, but she was confident in her throw. She’d at least startle him if she missed. He kept speaking, and she kept marching forward. As she took a few swift strides, she raised the rack until she held it nearly above her head. The weapons almost slid from their slots, but she flung the entire piece (equipment and all) at Pencil Dick before they could fall out behind her. She grunted, cracking her vertebra as she released the rack from her grip. The weapons were definitely dislodged from their slots now, but it was okay so long as they were moving forward. If she was lucky, maybe the sword would fly out and slash him in the mouth so she wouldn’t have to do it herself. Just kidding. She wanted nothing more than to beat her knuckles into his horrid gullet like a sledgehammer through old, rotted wood. |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Mar 28, 2014 17:21:44 GMT
Oh yeah, he'd made a mistake all right, and by God she was going to make sure he didn't live long enough to make another.
Fidget watched in horror as the woman lifted the rack over her head- the entire fucking rack, weapons and all, and as soon as she hurled it at him, he screamed. It wasn't even a bloodcurdling scream or a girlish scream, it was a ridiculous, half-yodeling howl like Goofy might make on helium. Instinctively he slammed his arms over his head and ran diagonally, so that the sturdier weapons sailed over him (He had to duck a few of them, and was smacked in the shoulder by some hilts and handles.), and the lighter ones fell short. He finally dove out of the way and rolled over, sand sticking to his sweater (and pants and face, and well, his everything really. All that built-up unwashed oil was not helping it to brush off.).
"Shit. Shit what the fuck, Jesus fucking Christ what are you a goddamn titan? Fucking-" He flopped onto his back. His heart was pounding a little too hard in his anemic body and it was making him dizzy. He put his palms over his eyes. "Shit." he muttered again.
Then he remembered that he was in an arena with the blue-collar grunge equivalent of Wonder Woman and bolted back upright, arms crossed in a T. "All right, all right, time out, you made your fucking point. I get it. You can kill me, no one's fucking surprised." He gestured to himself. "You asked who I am? I'm Fidget. That's it, that's all you really need to know, that's all anyone really calls me. You wanna know where we are, well, I can't fucking help you, I don't know, last I checked I was in a god damned train, all right? I don't know anything more than that, the genius up there didn't bother giving me a handbook, anymore than he did you I guess." He jerked a thumb upward. He was speaking as quickly as he could, as if he could talk the woman to death. He paused. "I'm. Sorry? For the comments. I'm sure you have a glowing personality."
It was actually a rather stirring apology coming from someone like Fidget. How much he meant it though was questionable, and that was readily apparent. He had no problems groveling if it meant he had a few more minutes to breath. In his eyes, the longer you lived, the more time you had to make up for the humiliation.
He slowly got to his feet, hands up.
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Apr 1, 2014 3:07:44 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ “Ah, it’s only too bad I can’t say the same thing for you.” Sure, it was a pretty overused comeback, but it was effective. And true. And she honestly didn’t care that much. Verbal volleyball wasn’t high priority on her list of things to beat people at. She was more focused on trying to make sense of this situation and how to handle it. Oppenheimer paced around Fidget like a vulture zoning in on its prey. He was pretty much a dead man walking and while she wasn’t exactly a harpy, she still smelt like road kill (any wonder why?). She stroked her chin as she examined him from all angles in an attempt to discover what kind of advantage he might possibly have on her. Just in case she missed something the first time. All she got from this exercise was how he had pretty much the same depth no matter what angle you looked at him. He was just a long skinny pole of a man whose nose stuck out like a 60d nail at profile view (and it was one of the few possible ways of determining you were looking at his side). Yep, from what she could tell she could certainly kill him. She take his claim on face-value, like everything else. Oppenheimer stopped, stamping her left boot in the sand as she turned to look at him. She crossed her arms, flaring her nostrils like a bull at the ready. “Well,” she hissed. “Are you gonna do what the giant serpenis tells you do and fight me to the death?” |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Apr 2, 2014 3:40:09 GMT
Fidget couldn't say he much liked the pacing. His usual slouch turned rigid as she passed around him, eyes trying to follow her through the back of his skull. He had a sick feeling that she could very easily snap his neck from behind. Or take one of those fallen weapons to the back of his head. He wondered how sharp those swords were, maybe a swift decapitation was in store (Just because he'd oft wondered if the head lived at all after separation did not mean he was interested in personally investigating the phenomenon.).
He sighed at the question- partly out of relief, partly because it should have been obvious. "No. Not if I can help it." And that much was honest. He was fairly certain the attempt alone would end badly for him (How did the saying go? 'It doesn't matter if the stone hits the pitcher, or the pitcher hits the stone, it's going to end bad for the pitcher.'), and he'd never been fond of one-sided battles. "What about you, gonna take an easy win?"
He tried to keep his voice low and quiet. He didn't know how good the snake's hearing was, but the 'or die' was still lingering in the back of his mind. Of the two options- one dies or both die- the former was preferable from a sheer numbers standpoint. Less death was better death (Though sky-snake only knew what sort of horror was waiting for the victor. Fidget couldn't bring himself to believe he'd walk off scott-free even if he did somehow best the woman. It actually gave him a bitter sort of pleasure to think that even if she did take that easy win, it wouldn't do her any good.).
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Apr 2, 2014 20:39:34 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ Sure, winning would be easy, but Oppenheimer never took the easy way out of anything. She had to be right before she was comfortable. If Pencil Dick didn't try killing her first, then she couldn't try killing him either. It just wasn't right. Even if he was a douchebag, murder was murder, no matter what. It was the unjust theft of someone's life, and it effected more than just the individual who was unjustly killed. She doubted he had anyone that still cared for him, but regardless, it was wrong. Even if it would probably feel very right strangling the everlovin' fuck out of his stringy little neck. She pivoted on her heel and marched forward, staring up at the giant snake filled sky. She leaned down to picked up the Union rifle, but her eyes never left the Kukulcan. "Hey, you!" she shouted, bouncing on the toes as if a few extra inches of height would amplify her voice. In case he didn't hear her, Oppenheimer fired the rifle skyward. Thick, rolling smoke billowed out the barrel as she lowered the gun to her side. She then threw her middle finger up at the giant sky snake and sneered. "Yeah, fuck you! You didn't pay me damn near enough to be a murderer, and not even an over-arching cunt like you could ever meet my price!" She didn't really know what else to do. Yes, it was stupid in that it would likely result in her death. She wasn't naïve. She knew the shot wouldn't actually hurt him, and her words much less so, but she wasn't going to abide by the rule of this otherworldly tyrant. At least she would go down with her principles. Survival could take a seat back to morality. ((OOC: It needs to be edited but here you go.)) |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Apr 5, 2014 21:39:22 GMT
The woman's lack of verbal response made him uncomfortable. He'd never been good at reading people, never mind women, so he wasn't entirely sure if they'd reached a truce or not. Hell, he wasn't even sure what they were going to do now- fight or die, what a varied assortment of options. Not like they could fight the sky-snake- actually he wondered just how long it would take for it to make good on its threat. He doubted they were the patient sort.
Nudging a spear with his toe, Fidget began scanning the scattered weapons. He couldn't have fought with these anyway. He'd figured as much before, but now he was certain- more than half of these were of the melee variety, and when the worth of a weapon was in how hard you could swing it, the stick-man always lost. There was a handgun though- Fidget had never used a handgun, never even held one, really. They made him uncomfortable, but he picked it up anyway, brushed the sand off and shook it. It was heavier than he expected. He turned it this way and that, inspecting it up close- a perfect way to blow my own nose off, he thought idly. He could figure how to use it though- he'd watched enough drug busts go down as a kid and watched enough youtube videos on police brutality to hazard a good guess, at least.
Maybe if he had some twine or string or time he could rig something together- but then, he doubted it would be enough to take down a god. Would make an impressive bang though, and there was something about explosions that made his shriveled little heart beat that much faster.
Much much faster, as the woman fired another gun- a veritable dinosaur of a firearm- into the sky and began screaming obscenities. Dropping the gun he jumped back and began instinctively checking himself for holes. Surprise of surprises, he was not leaking.
He looked up at the snake. A doddering old rifle wouldn't mean anything to something that big, but still, Fidget imagined the creature falling. Even if they did kill it, by some miracle, it would crush them. Again, he felt a little sick. He didn't want to die, least of all to amuse some great slimy reptile. He didn't want to kill to amuse a great slimy reptile either, but if it came down to it, he'd take his life over his spite any damn day.
The woman wasn't looking. She wasn't far away either. He retrieved the handgun. Raising it he tried to aim for her head- her back was a broader target, but he didn't want her coming after him for however long it took her to bleed out. A cheap shot, sure, but frankly, cheap shots were all he'd ever been able to afford.
The barrel made shaky circles in the air. He pulled the trigger, and promptly smashed himself in the face as it went off.
((OOC: S'all good, s'all good.))
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Oppenheimer
Accepted Character
Wrench Wench
Posts: 19
Full Name: Dulce Annabella Oppenheimer
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Homeworld: Shadow's Wayne/Earth, 1998
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 139 lbs
OOC Name: Husher
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Post by Oppenheimer on Apr 13, 2014 2:33:24 GMT
◎◎◎◎◎◎◎ “I'm not going to kill anyone in your fucking name, you fucking taint-tickling twatmonster!” Oppenheimer bellowed further at the giant sky snake, sending another shot at him in protest. “I call quits!” She didn't really consider what Fidget would make of her actions; she only assumed. While she wasn't naïve enough to think she could actually hurt the colossal, otherworldly serpent in the sky, she was naïve enough to think Fidget would likewise resign from partaking in this cruel bloodsport. If she wasn't going to try murdering him, then he wouldn't try murdering her either. That was the 'right' thing to do. But she should have known better by now. Nobody ever did the 'right' thing. There were so many times where someone was willing to draw a blade on her. There were so many times where they were not only willing to, they did, and she had the scars to show for it. It was a grand and intoxicating innocence for someone has experienced and hardened as Oppenheimer. Call it 'cognitive bias', but instead of over-estimating her own positive traits, she overestimated everyone else's. She didn't even realize that he had a gun in his hand until she heard the bullet blast erupting from the muzzle. She jumped as her ear drums popped with the explosion of sound. Though her ears ached, she was lucky that was the extent of injury. She wasn't shot. Fidget wasn't nearly strong enough to control that gun. A fifty caliber handgun in the shaky grip of infirm man? It was surprising the gangly galoot would even go for a gun like that, knowing his condition, but it was just plain surprising to Oppenheimer that he would go for a weapon at all. What kind of person attacked a non-combatant? The kind that feared for their life, but that wasn't an acceptable excuse to her.“You dirty, little--” She was so mad, she couldn't even form words. Instead, she just started making terrible, almost inhuman noises with the back of her throat. Oppenheimer was somehow angrier that he tried to kill her despite her refusal to participate, than the fact he tried to kill her. But now, she was more than ready to compete in this bizarre gladiatorial show. Her anger was the very short-sighted sort. It wasn't an anger that said 'I am going to kill this man'. It was one that instead said 'I AM GOING TO BEAT THE TEETH INTO THIS MAN'S CERVICAL SPINE'. Killing wasn't even on her mind. Just a no-holds-barred beat down. She placed her hand near the end of the rifle's barrel. She wielded it like a bat, raising it above her head as she stomped towards Fidget. She brought it down, aiming the stock at his head. He may have been very tall, and she may have been very short, but she was going to hit something of his, even if it wasn't his skull. ((OOC: I'm not going to make excuses for my late response, so apologize for making you wait. This also probably needs editing, but I'm not going to make you any wait any longer. This computer is way too laggy and slow to be overly specific about grammar and spelling. I'm sure it's still at least comprehensible.)) |
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Fidget
Accepted Character
Posts: 27
Full Name: Miles O'Malley
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Vanilla Earth
Height: 6'6
Weight: 172
OOC Name: acorncap
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Post by Fidget on Apr 14, 2014 11:18:02 GMT
Fidget dropped the gun with an ugly, throaty cry. His wrists were throbbing, and he instinctively grabbed for his right one, only to hiss more as the pain lanced up to his elbows. Shit. Shit. And people made shooting the things look so goddamn easy.
It was the growling that made him look up- and he immediately felt his blood drain to his toes, almost as if it knew what was going to happen and wanted to get a head start out of his (for all intents and purposes) undead body.
He took a step back, shooting his hands up, too scared to even acknowledge the twinge. "I-It was an accident, I swear! I didn't think it'd go off! I've never used one before, it was a mistake!" Eyes wide, unblinking, his voice hitching on every word and pitching up so high it could summon dogs, Fidget was spitting whatever came to mind, like an incredibly terrified case of verbal diarrhea. "Honestly, I didn't mean it! I wouldn't ahhh- I wouldn't do that, y'know? Shit, it's just the... giant snake thing, I got nervous, twitchy finger... It was an honest mistake, it won't happen again, look, I won't even go near the weapons, I won't touch them, I'll just go stand over there while you shout at the reptile, okay? Okay? Oh God don't kill me, don't-"
She swung the gun at him and he ducked to the side. It slammed into his shoulder, and after a few seconds of stumbling, he bolted.
Bounding across the sand like a drunk concussed giraffe Fidget discovered that running on loose sand was actually harder than he imagined. Not as hard as firing a handgun at near point-blank range at a still and blissfully unaware target but still reasonably difficult, especially for someone who didn't really have the lung capacity to be running from anything. He resorted to stride- long, broad steps that made up for his lack of speed, but made him that much more unbalanced. In short, Fidget gangled away as fast as he could.
((S'all good, it was probably a good thing anyway since I've been running in circles all week. No worries!))
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