Re: Chaos in the Saloon Town (Librarian)
I'll try to get this in earlier, next time. I've been writing too much exposition, lately. Actual action is a little daunting. That's why this is going to be very good for me.
BiC: From Dreamer’s perspective~
It was a stare down. Dreamer, with her hands firmly gripping the lower part of her weapon, looked straight into the eyes of the man who was evidently trying to take over the town. He stood solidly, with both swords prone. He made them appear from out of nowhere, her inner voice cautioned her, And that armor, too. I’ll have to look out if he ever gains a free hand. He could have more than just those two things. She gripped her spear even tighter. He was a strong man, she could tell, blocking her attack with only one arm.
The air would have been tense, were the man not smiling, and the woman not smirking just a bit herself. After what happened in the saloon, she was somewhat eager for a release. Shifting her foot in, she started a dash toward the person in front of her. The man reacted quickly, matching her charge ahead. Each primed their weapons, and brought them down harshly as they covered the last foot between them. All three weapons came together with killing force. With an a piercing clang, they bounced back, causing both wielders to flinch mildly from the attack’s power.
For an instant, they both came to a stop, but wasted no time returning to the offensive. The man with the red hair came out swinging. He smoothly arced his right blade at her from above, which she defended with a solid block from the same side. Catching her open, he thrust his left blade at her exposed right. As he drew back, she forced off his right blade. Using the bottom of her spear, she knocked his thrust away from her side. Taking the opening, she swung her lance forward, aiming to strike his collar bone. As she moved, he brought his swords together, and blocked the hit resolutely.
They stuck together, each looking the other in the eye. Although Dreamer normally shirked from eye contact, she stared on. The going was good, and she was starting to get pumped up. Looking her opponent in the face was the least of what she could do to express her excitement. Finally putting on a full smile, she pushed her swing harder. Both of their weapons slid off of each other, prompting them to both hop back a few feet. After already defending, the Sacred Lance wielder readied to take an offensive of her own. She turned her spear, and attacked.
Using her weapon’s long reach, she came at him with a wide arc. He easily defended the strike, just below the spearhead. Not phased, she came at him with the butt of her weapon, putting both her arms’ power into it. He defended once more, but less solidly than before. Though her spear was stopped, her body still moved forward. She let her inside hand go, and braced her spear with her side. Her free hand stormed ahead, balled into a tight fist. She landed a solid blow, right to his cheek. He stumbled backwards, managing to stay on his feet, and mostly on his balance. Glad, she hurried back to a prone stance.
Glad, her heart swam with the heat her fist made against his cheek.
From Black Shisho’s perspective~
Had he teeth, the walking mask would have already been showing them a pearly black. His fellow mantle wearing opponent had an eager wit, with a stress on sarcasm. Black Shisho hated sarcasm. His personal standards for humor forbade anybody but jesters, his friends, and himself from using sarcasm around him. He was torn between starting to froth with anger, and trying to retroactively change the events in his mind into something he would have found funny. He gave up. Lacking both the focus and charisma to think up an intelligent retort to his fellow mantle wearer, he simply jumped onto the roof after him.
The wooden roof moaned beneath his feet as he landed. Surely, they were not meant to withstand two supernatural beings fighting, so the other half of the soul felt a certain compulsion to slam the person in front of him though the roof at least once. The boards continued to creak as he shifted his feet. He took up his Virtuous Stance, shaking just a bit as more thoughts of violence occurred to him. The man across from him did not take up a stance. The man merely stood like he did before he blocked the walking mask’s first attack.
Snapping himself forward, he came at his kindred mantle wearer. He neglected his strength distribution, opting to size up the man’s talents before he turned to partial or full distribution. Closing the gap between them, he let loose a right palm thrust. From the most basic of standing positions, the man removed his hand from his pocket, and slapped the thrust away. He made no attempt to counter. Shisho struck again, using his left. The man simply and smoothly dodged to the side. The walking mask snarled, and let fly a right kick, which the man gracefully avoided.
Black Shisho lashed out with his most basic power, throwing out a dozen punches and kicks. His fellow mantle wearing opponent did nothing besides dodge to the side and redirect his attacks. The walking mask may have been holding back, but it was still angering to see his very own attacks rendered ineffective. It was as that struck him when the man finally made a move. He slid in closer than he had let himself before, and balled his fist for an attack. With unexpected ferocity, he struck Shisho on the jaw with a powerful left uppercut. Swinging straight back, he followed with a smashing elbow strike to the gut.
It practically knocked him off of his feet. Holding his hands to his belly, the walking mask stumbled backward several feet before finally regaining his composure. It became apparent that the fight would end immediately if he did not distribute his power. Had he a face, a bizarre look would have come to it. He shifted power from his core to his arms and legs.