Re: Chaos in the Saloon Town (Librarian)
From Dreamer’s Perspective~
“Y-you’re meaning to say…” Dreamer stammered, having just heard the last thing she would have expected to hear, “That you’re NOT one of the freaks trying to take over the town?” The red haired man apparently found what she said funny. “I can see how you could think that,” he replied, sounding more cheery than a combat situation might have called for, “but, no, I’m definitely not.” In an action that matched his body to his voice, he dropped out of stance and lowered his weapons.
The jacket sporting woman did not know how to take what he was doing. Whether he was simply trying to bury the hatchet or trying to trick her was uncertain. As she contemplated his action, she slowly lowered her weapon. Unsure of his intentions as she was, it was the best gesture she could put forward. After a moment or two, she was holding her weapon at her hip. He did the same thing. Keeping his cheery face, he dropped out of stance and lowered his weapons.
“If that’s the case,” she went on, “Then I owe you an apology.” Propping her spear up over her shoulder, Yari began to walk toward Zachary Leos. He made no hostile movements, no attempt to catch her off guard. Still a few paces out of his reach, she stopped. Although she kept her senses as acute as possible, she gave him a deep bow. “For attacking you unprovoked, I’m sorry,” she said, standing up straight, “After that guy headed you off, I just assumed it was you two. Clearly, you’re not any kind of freak.
“My name is Doubutsu Yari. Dreamer for short. It’s nice to meet you, as well.”
From Black Shisho’s Perspective~
“You have no idea just how strong I can get,” the walking mask retorted, reassuming the Virtuous Stance, “And you really make me want to show you.” He was beginning to get angry. After the last strike, he had hoped to see his fellow mantle wearer sprawled out on the dusty ground below. But, with a motion smooth as his own metallic body, the man pulled himself back up onto the rooftop. Such a cruel manipulation of the melee made him want to punch someone even more.
With one man hanging loose, and one man starting to steam, they bore down on each other once again. Finally, both defended and attacked in equal measure. Both men threw punches, both lashed out with kicks, both dodged skillfully, and both blocked with fortitude. If there were ever a fistfight to see between two people, then theirs would have been the one. At last, they came together with a left jab and a right hook, a cross counter. They struck each other in the face at the same time.
The man clad in black fumbled backwards, all but reeling from the strike. Black Shisho, on the other hand, was knocked off his feet. As much as he expected his blow to land, he had expected his opponent’s to stop short even more. In a fit, he smashed his hands down against the roof, punching in two good sized holes. Someone yelled up from within, but their cry was ignored. The walking mask simply stood, and redistributed his power again. He would start using his limbs at optimum efficiency.
Becoming angry in earnest, he charged once more at his fellow mantle wearing opponent. As before, his first punch was deflected, but his second move came too fast. Coming in close, he thrust his heel down on the man’s foot. With the man anchored, Black Shisho shifted all extra power into his elbows and shoulders. With speed that made the air hum, his arms moved to unleash the Desbreko Striker. In the seconds that followed, the man was pummeled relentlessly.
As many hits as the man attempted to block, several more connected. As fast as the hits were coming, there was no way for him to defend against it. At last, he put up his arms over his face, and lunged forward. In motion, he lashed out with his free leg, sweeping the walking mask to the ground. While one man rolled and another hopped, they both retreated until they were comfortably distant. Each retook their own particular stances, with the man clad in black owning a few bruises.