Chaos in the Saloon Town (Librarian)

The last few lights of the stars vanished as the two figures continued to walk. The sun began to rise up from the east and dispel the darkness of night that had covered the desert while the two warriors had continued on their journey. These weren't the familiar deserts of Rubato that the Technological Quincy and Replicator walked through, but instead were the more unfamiliar, more rock and plateau filled deserts of some world the two had just wound up in.

The red haired figure stopped in front of a massive archway that lead into what Monroe described as a "Saloon Town." The ice mage had yet to inquire as to why, but as they looked at the stone arch on which the name had been completely scratched out, the thought returned to the ice mage. "So... why do you call these places Saloon Towns, Monroe?" the amateur sorcerer asked as he looked at the taller figure.

The dark clad man looked down at his associate and then crossed his arms and looked into the city. "Well, because that's about the only thing of interest. These are travelers towns. Towns that spring up to fill the need of people to stop and regroup or get supplies before they continue on their journeys to get where they're going. Pretty much all that's in these towns are a few residences, a general store and a saloon."

The Quincy looked at the shadows of figures who were standing in the middle of the long stretch of town. Some kind of showdown was about to go on here, and Monroe knew why. "The main problem with these towns is that they're havens for bandits and wannabe heroes. Vigilantism is generally the law here, but once in a while, a do gooder tries to step in and force actual law. They don't last long. Better not to linger."

Zachary looked at the man and simply shrugged as the two entered, completely calm, and moved in towards the center of the city. On one side, only two men, a deputy and the sherif stood their ground. On the other side, no less than ten desperado stood their ground. "Well, we'd better get out of the way. Wouldn't want to get caught in this fight."

"Fight? What do you mean? What's going on?" the ice mage asked as he looked at the groups. "Oh, never mind. The law is trying to stop the bandits, right?" The Replicator cracked his neck and stepped onto the porch of the Saloon and looked at the groups. "I don't know why we should stand and watch this. We could take these guys out in no time, right?"

The ice mage looked to his left and noticed that no one was standing next to him. "Huh? Where'd you get to-" he paused as he looked at the shine of the thin, neon green wires that were snaking their way towards the bandits. The wires were barely visible, even with the sunlight shining on them, which made it all the easier to set this trap up.

Monroe looked at the sun light and smiled. "Almost..." he whispered as the sun reached the area. In a flash, all of the men in the standoff reached for their weapons, but the group of bandits hadn't moved more than an inch before they found themselves being entangled and and bound. "Well, that was pointless," Monroe stated as he looked at the Sherif and Deputy.

"Don't worry, they're not any more threat," the amateur sorcerer said as he walked towards the two law bringers. The Sherif's hand shook as he pointed his gun at Zachary and began to shrink back.

"S-stay back! We-we don't like your kind 'round here!" he said.

"Oh great... this again," the ice mage muttered as he looked at the man. The Sherif and Deputy moved to strike, but before they could, the ice mage had punched out the Sherif. The Deputy ran with all speed away, but before he could get too far, Monroe jerked his hand back and pulled the Deputy by his feet backwards, accidentally throwing the man into the saloon.

"Not good," Monroe whispered as he heard the Deputy requesting the help of anyone in there. "Get Ready, Zachary. We might have a fight on our hands, if there are any other travelers. If not, we can get out of here," the man muttered as he pulled the wires attached to the fingers of his right hand and swung the bandits and released them so they went flying into the desert. "If they make it back, they deserve to live," the Quincy said as he leapt down and stood next to Zachary.

"And now... should we start moving? I don't think that anyone in there is going to wait too long to come and try to stop us."

"I fully agree... but I'm kinda interested to see what's going on in this town."

The Replicator nodded. "Yeah, you're right. After all, we're not here every day, so who knows. We might find ourselves something worthwhile."

OoC: Now then, you can have your characters be in the Saloon, or enter any other way. I leave it to you as to what happens next. ^_^

OoC: Yeesh. It was harder than I thought to pair these two up. If this wasn’t such a good match up, I probably would have tried someone else. Let’s see how this works out. Oh, and sorry if it’s a bit skimpy on the action. It’s a bit too long just being an intro as it is.

BiC: Dreamer walked into a saloon. She did not want to walk into a saloon, or a bar, or a pub, or even a tavern, for that matter, but she did anyways. The Sacred Lance wielder stepped through the swinging doors with her spear over her shoulder, not stopping to size the place up as most would have upon entering someplace such as that. She got the bartender’s attention with an “Excuse me,” that registered above the level of ‘murmur’, and ordered a big mug of whatever non-alcoholic drink they had. She took her drink, brushed by a few people, and took a seat at an empty table near the back of the building.

If it had been any other time of day besides dawn, there would have been an entire room of people staring directly at her. If she were not better equipped to travel during the night, there was a good chance she would have just gotten herself into a bit of trouble. Luckily, she was who she was. Toasting to herself, she started on her drink. It was water. After gulping down a mouthful, Dreamer leaned back in her chair, and let out a dramatic sigh. Hiking sure made a person thirsty. After a stressful day of worrying whether or not she was going to find shelter before the sun came up, it was good to get something to drink.

As the jacket sporting woman peacefully took swig after swig of her drink, someone seemed to take special notice of her. She did not even notice the man who was staring at her until he decided to walk over and sit himself down at her table. “You’re not from ‘round here, are you?” he said after not making a noise for an awkward length of time. He was an unshaven, vest wearing, ten gallon hat sporting, piece carrying kind of person. In other words, he was a person she did not even want to know had the ability to speak. He smiled as he waited for her answer. Kind of.

“No,” she replied succinctly, checking her personal effects. She wanted this person to go away. The man let out a laugh she had never heard come from a person before. “Wheell heell,” he squeaked, “A smart mouthed woman. Don’t this world of ours got everything. You ought to learn how to talk more polite-like to your men-folk.”

“May I sit here in peace?” she continued, taking a small drink from her mug, “I would rather be alone, right now, so, please, go somewhere else.”

“Now, I don’t think that’s gonna work out.”

“Please, go away.”

He blatantly ignored her. Without any signs of doing what she pleaded, he got up from his seat, and moved to the chair right next to hers. Giving off a more creepy air than before, he pulled up close. “Go away,” Dreamer demanded with a kind of mild harshness, “Or I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Now, why don’t you stop all that nonsense,” the man went on, “and come…” And, at that point, he simply stopped talking. The Sacred Lance wielder delivered on her threat. Once she set her drink down, she arced the back of her fist straight into his nose.

The man did nothing. All he did was sit there staring straight ahead. After a few moments, he got up and began to walk away. Before he could get back to where he had been sitting previous, that person shuddered, and fell over sideways. Dreamer picked up her mug again.

Not more than a few seconds passed before someone in the saloon began to laugh as if they were getting feathers taken to their toes. The jacket sporting woman’s head snapped in the direction the laugh came from. At the furthest end of the bar, a frightened looking woman got up, and ran away from a man wearing all black who was laughing at the top of his lungs. He laughed loudly to himself for a while longer, before getting up, and giggling his way over to Dreamer. Still snickering, he sat down across from her, letting her see the exact details his face did not have.

“You just made my day,” he said, smacking his hand down lightly against the table, “You know, it’s good to see a person who doesn’t take anything from idiots. I just wish I was paying attention when you actually hit him.” He paused to chuckle for a few seconds. “Ah, but seeing him just fall over like that was funny enough as it is.”

“Thank you,” Dreamer replied, although he had not given her an actual compliment, “It was no big deal.”

“It was hilarious. And impressive, too. If you could do that just sitting, I’ll bet you’re a terror with that spear you have there. You know what, I was just looking for a new partner. You and I should hook up, and see if we can’t bring some justice to these parts. I’m Black Shisho, but just Shisho would be lovely.”

The Sacred Lance wielder could hardly process anything he had just said to her. “Huh?” she went as she tried to piece together the message he had just thrown at her, “You want me to fight crime with you? Like a pair of Vigilantes? Wait a moment; who did you say you were? Me? I’m sorry, but you’ve read me wrong. I’m just a simple world traveler, and I carry this spear for personal reasons.”

“Oh, well, in that case, allow me to apologize. What would you say about watching the rest of the sunrise together? It would give me the chance to learn a bit more about you.”

“I really…”

At that moment, the fates intervened. As Dreamer was about to shoot down Shisho’s horrid attempt at coming off as someone she might like to spend time with, a person tumbled through the doors of the saloon. “Help! Help!” he cried, causing the jacket sporting woman to jump from her seat, and the pitch black man to turn his attention away from what he wanted, “They’re tryin’ to take over the town! Freaks are tryin’ to take over! They already got the Sheriff! Aaaaaahhh!” With that, the man was pulled from out of the doorway by his feet.

Shisho was nonplussed. “Since this doesn’t concern us,” he said, turning back around, “How about we…” When he turned back, she was already off in a clanking clatter toward the door. Not one to miss an opportunity, he sprang up, and wove his way to the door before she could get there. “Since we’re both obviously going to try and take care of this,” he began, blocking her way, “I’d like to hear your name. So we can work together, better.”

“Call me Dreamer,” the Sacred Lance wielder retorted, shoving her way past him.

Out in the road, both of them shouted out a generic stock phrase.

Monroe looked at the deputy as he launched him over the arch and onto the sands just outside. He'd be fine. After all, no one had died, and Monroe and Zachary would be through soon enough. The Quincy took a few steps before his red haired associated caught up. Both crossed their arms and kept walking onwards, after all, who else would interfere with them here?

Something, probably someone yelling, made it to the two, but both kept walking. They were nearing the arch at the other side of town, which meant they were almost out. Still, a man that was completely cloaked in total darkness leapt in front of the two and cut them off from their almost escape. "Okay..." the dark clad archer said as he looked back to see a woman with a thick coat on. "I'm guessing you want us to stop?" the Quincy asked in an almost insultingly mocking tone as he looked at the man.

Taking their measure, the former assassin judged the two somewhat wanting. "Don't tell me, you're the town jester here to entertain us before we leave, right?" Monroe said, bending over and clapping his hands blatantly insultingly at the strange, dark figure.

However, despite his facade on the outside, the dark clad archer knew the truth. Reiatsu isn't everything. It's only a good determination of magical and spiritual energy. Even if these two aren't ultra powerful in terms of spiritual or magical powers, that doesn't mean they're not powerful. Better think again before I'm on the receiving end of an unpleasant attack.

Zachary looked at the black dressed man and quirked an eyebrow. "What... in the world-" he found himself almost finishing the question before he looked back slightly and raised his arm. A powerful strike from the shaft of the spear caused him to slide a few inches closer to Monroe and left the spear vibrating in its holder's hands.

"That was close," the Replicator noted as he his hands were now covered in their armor, a response quick enough to save him from having a broken arm. The ice mage looked at the woman's spear and turned around. The archer and the mage moved back to back, the Quincy looking at the dark warrior, and the Replicator staring at the lance wielder.

Snow and fire began to circle around Zachary's right and left arms, respectively and flowed into his hands, forming his short swords Azul and Rosso as he grasped the hilts. The man crossed his blades over his chest and looked at the woman. "We're in a tight spot!"

Despite this fact, the archer took a few steps forwards and looked at the mask, jamming his hands into his pockets so only his thumbs could be seen. "Yes, it seems we're now trapped," he said in the same degrading tone he had been using up to that. Despite the fact it was almost dripping sarcasm and insult, Zachary didn't quite catch this fact.

The dark warrior did, however, and quickly threw a quick punch. "Hmm?" the Quincy asked as he dodged slightly to the left to evade the punch. A second punch followed almost immediately after the first, but this one was caught by the quick movement of the former assassin's hand from his pocket to the fist. Monroe was pushed back a few inches after he caught the punch, so the black warrior's arm was completely extended.

"Good, you're not weak. This could be fun then... still, not much room," Monroe noted as he glanced one eye back at Zachary. "What should we do?"

"Stupid question," the Replicator said as he kept his blades crossed over his chest. "That question answers itself."

"Right!" the Quincy responded as he pushed Black Shisho's hand aside and leapt upwards an onto a roof and looked down at the fighter. "Come get me. If you don't, you might regret it."

The amateur sorcerer wasted no time as well as he sidestepped a downward strike from the woman's spear and dashed off, skidding a stop and turning around to look at this lancer. Zachary held his blades in front of himself and smiled. "This could be fun," he noted, having luckily had a few experience with fighting lance users in the past.

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.

OoC: Don't worry about it. I figured this would just be fun, so don't worry about how we go about it. ^_^ Oh, and I made a very small edit to Zachary, so make sure you check it out. Azul and Rosso are now both two feet in length is the only difference. ^_^;;

BiC: Zachary smiled and rubbed his cheek. She sure had one hell of a right hook. If she had used just a small bit more force, the force he knew she had, then she would have floored him with that strike. She wielded an unorthodoxly long spear, but still, it was an effective weapon in the way she used it. After all, she wasn't a normal lancer. She was something different.

The Replicator lowered his arms to his side. He had been cautious, when creating his swords, to try to make it seem like they came from within his jacket. It was a trick he enjoyed using quite a bit, since it did give an opponent the prospect that, if they could continuously disarm him or break his weapons, he would run out eventually.

True, the amateur sorcerer could wholly run out of weapons, but that would first require him to run out of Mana. That process, especially just using Azul and Rosso, would take a bit of time. Still...

His thought process was thrown off a bit as the woman thrust her spear at him. The tip moved quickly forwards before locking with the Replicator's crossed swords. The ice mage pushed up on the woman's spear and moved it upwards. He realized a few seconds later that what he had just done was a bit of a dumb move, but for that second it worked.

Azul cut quickly towards the woman; however, she pulled down her weapon to strike before he could get all the way. The downward force on his left arm brought the sorcerer to his knees for a second. "Not yet," he whispered, knocking her spear away with Rosso and rising to his feet, slashing Azul at the woman.

The blade of his sword narrowly missed the woman's jacket as the lancer stepped back, nearly falling over in the process, and attempted to regain her balance. The Replicator slashed again, but again his sword was intercepted by the woman's spear, the two weapons bouncing off each other.

Still, the red haired warrior stepped back and held his swords in front of himself. "I'm Zachary Leos; it’s nice to meet you. You're quite strong, but I can't quite figure out why you're fighting with me. I know it isn't any of my business, but would you mind explaining to me why you attacked me?"

o=)----------- -----------(=o

The Quincy smiled as he stepped back and smiled at the man. This guy was quick and had some nice moves, but still, he wasn't anything special. At least, that would have been what the dark clad man said as his mantle wearing foe struck again. This time, the man threw a punch that even Monroe's enhanced eyesight had a problem following.

The Quincy dodged quickly to the side and rolled a short bit as he watched again and prepared himself for the next punch. Another punch moved equally quickly at the dark clad man. The Technological Quincy narrowly pushed the attack away and counterattacked. A quick charge and a knee to the chest caused the dark warrior to be thrown a few inches upwards into the air before falling down onto the ceiling, grasping his gut for a few seconds.

The dark clad man kept a short distance between himself and this fighter. Just enough distance where he was out of range. Or so he thought, anyway. A sudden punch from the mantle wearing foe sent Monroe stumbling back in recoil after the blow landed in his chest. The dark warrior moved again quickly, kicking the former assassin in the side of the head and causing the man to fall over and nearly fall off the building.

Nearly only because Monroe managed to grab the edge of the roof. He looked up at his foe and smiled as the other mantle wearer looked down at him. "You should be more careful," the Quincy Chevalier said as he pulled himself upwards and caused his body to launch over the martial artist.

The Quincy shook off the damage and smiled at the warrior. "You're stronger than you let on. Well, anyway, let's keep going," Monroe said, taking a lose stance. It was all he would need to fight now that he saw what his enemy could do.

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.

"Dreamer? Interesting name. If I could pronounce your other name, I'd try, but I get the odd feeling that I couldn't do it justice. Anyway," the Replicator continued as he walked a few feet away and looked at the dark clad man that was taking a bit of a beating, "my partner seems to be taking this easy still." The ice mage sighed as he looked at the woman. "That dark guy that attacked Monroe doesn't have any idea what he's up against, but so far its interesting."

Zachary rolled his swords in his hands as he watched the walking mask beat upon the Quincy for a little while. The amateur sorcerer had to admit he was minutely shocked. That guy had managed to hit Monroe a good number of times, but still, the Replicator knew the archer was fine. After all, no matter how many hits the Enhanced human took, he had an interesting power to recover quicker than normal humans. Easily.

The ice mage continued to spin his weapons in the palms of his hands as he looked back at the woman and took a few small steps towards her. He walked past her quietly and stopped about two yards away from her. "Normally, I'd suggest that I get out of here, but since my associate is being distracted, might as well fight a little bit and get some practice in," he told her, looking over his shoulder and smiling.

The Replicator stopped his swords from spinning and turned around. "After all, you can never have too much practice," he told her, smiling. This woman seemed reasonable. "Or, if not, you could always force my hand by trying to aid that guy that's fighting my associate. After all, the man your friend is fighting... is very strong."

o=)------------- ------------(=o

Well, This wasn't the first time he had taken an epic beating. In fact, using the term epic to define this beating would be an insult to the term epic. This beating barely qualified as a crisis, much less anything remotely problematic. Quickly crossing his arms, he blocked the strike. The Quincy fell to one knee and kicked the man's legs out from under him.

The mantle wearing mask rolled backwards and the dark clad man followed suit, shuffling back. The blade Quincy wiped his face and swept the blood off of it. Finally, he spit a small bit of blood from his mouth and smiled. That had been mildly entertaining, but still nothing worth being worried about.

"I think I gave you too little credit. Or maybe too much after that last attack. You're strong... but you're not there yet," the man said as he blinked once. His eyes began to glow a neon green as the archer looked at the other man with a mantle.

The walking mask made the first move. His attack was quick and fierce. A powerful thrust of a fist that probably would have nearly floored the dark clad man a few moments ago. Now, though, it seemed to move like slow motion. After all, between the dark clad man's enhanced eyesight and his Quincy Eyes, he could follow most attacks with ease.

The archer shifted to the side slightly and moved forwards, thrusting his knee into the man's stomach and pushing the dark mask backwards. "Now then, keep fighting. I want to see if you can overcome this latest development."

From Dreamer’s Perspective~

She did not even know where to begin. “My friend? I’m not any kind of friends with him,” Yari replied, looking over to watch the action on the rooftops, “I don’t even know who he is. He just kind of followed me out of the saloon when I came out to help.” The words the pitch black man used to try to form some kind of bond with her waltzed back into her ears. As she watched him move around, she became a peculiar mix of frustrated and embarrassed. Although it had been for a total time of less than five minutes, she had been doing exactly as he had suggested they do.

Almost accidentally initiating one of her artist powers, she thrust the base of her spear against the ground. A little bit of the heat her fist felt came back to her. “Zach!” she said, turning to the man with what looked like artificial hair coloring, “Oh, um... do you tend to go by Zach, or Zachary?” He seemed amused by her inquiry. “Whichever you prefer,” he replied, tightening his grip on his weapons. It appeared that he was able to guess at what she was trying to get at.

“Right. Zach!” the jacket sporting woman went on, “I accept your challenge. If you want a practice match, then I‘ll give you one.”

Though it was easy for her to tell how corny her own statement was, she was too eager to take out her frustrations to care. Stepping toward the center of the street, Dreamer glared at the man armed with his two distinctively colored weapons. He returned her grimace with a kind of smirking, confident stare. The eyes of both warriors were each affixed to the other. Although each of their faces conveyed a different emotion than the one across from them, both were acting on them the same way. Their weapons were going to cross. As they charged at one another, it became irrelevant what they were feeling.

Almost. The whole reason she was fighting was for the emotion. Yari, no longer concerned with keeping an ace in the hole, thrust her weapon against the ground once more. That time, she put just the right amount of strength into it. The ground was tattooed for an instant as a wave of air pressure shot out from the space before her. In mid stride, Zachary Leos was caught by the shock, pushing him straight onto his back. Flying a few feet backward through the air, he landed in the pile of snow her magic left behind. Clearly not deterred, he returned to his feet with one smooth, cool motion.

Letting out a half laugh, half exhale, the man with what looked like artificial hair coloring readied himself for another attack. When he did not make an opening move, she knew what he was fishing for. Dreamer slammed the blunt end of her spear into the ground again. Another shockwave screeched forward, leaving the snow pile even bigger. As naturally as a duck took to water, the man dodged to the side. He may have had the timing down, but the jacket sporting woman was not going to let him perfect his dodges so easily. Sliding her weapon up, she gripped near the bottom, and charged toward him.

From Black Shisho’s Perspective~

Had the walking mask simply been irked before, that was no longer the case. The man clad in black’s supremely smug attitude, combined with his newest approach to the fight, made Black Shisho plain and simple angry. “I’ll show you,” every swing of his arm and arc of his leg practically shouted. Had he blood pressure, or blood with which to pressure, it would have been skyrocketing. Though his rage had yet to consume him, there was nothing else he could think of besides hitting the man squarely in the face. Nothing would maximize his satisfaction other than that.

And yet, his fellow mantle wearer kept that satisfaction from him. The man no longer even made any attempts to block, taking even the satisfaction of hitting at all. The only thing he did was avoid. Avoid and occasionally lash out when a particularly large opening presented itself. The pitch black man was not even able to counterattack. The only attack he was able to get in was thus. After being floored by an elbow strike to the face, he swiftly shifted his power to spin himself back up. In the process, he struck the back of his knee, forcing him into a kneel.

From two equally downed positions, the pair dressed in black returned to their feet, retreating back to a comfortable distance. “Is that all?” the man Black Shisho was beginning to identify as a Quincy asked mockingly, “Come now, I’m starting to get bored.”

“Why don’t you just shut it before I really show you what I can do!” the walking mask retorted, actually slamming his foot through the roof, “You have no idea what kind of PAIN I can bring you!”

“If you’re going to bring anything, you’re going to have to bring it faster than you have been.”

Growling, though he had no teeth to bear, Black Shisho prepared his next state of movement. For each individual action, he would put a bit more power into the limb used. As soon as he had his footing, he rushed. With speed that would have stunned any normal man, he came at his fellow mantle wearing opponent. It was almost as if they had started their fight all over again. The man clad in black was no longer able to solely dodge as a defense. Some hits were blocked, and some were dodged as before, but when the walking mask was able to deliver a strong right to his gut, he felt their match returning.

There was some madness about this woman. Although the cool breeze and the snow were refreshing, the way this lancer attacked almost made the Replicator laugh. She was almost as savage and fierce as a lion. Or maybe something, but the ice mage couldn't think of something more fierce than a lion at this moment in time.

And there she came. Dreamer was rushing forwards, almost the entirety of her spear being used to strike. Instead of swinging a spear like a spear, this odd warrior seemed to use her spear something like a sword. The weapon moved quickly. Too quickly, in fact, for the amateur sorcerer to evade. Well, blocking was better anyway.

The horizontal swing met hard with a pair of swords and sent the red haired warrior being pushed to the side. At first, the attack had only pushed the Replicator a few inches, but in the next few seconds, his body had been shot into a nearby building. The crunch of wood and flesh and bone as his body collided with the wooden house probably made people watching nearby wince.

Still, this hadn't been the first time the Replicator had been thrown into a building. This also was the first time the sound of splinters cracking as his body rose from the hole in the wall signified that he wasn't defeated yet. The ice mage spun his swords in his hands and leapt upwards, high into the air, and spun his blades again as he lashed out down towards Dreamer. Now was the best time for a counterattack, right?

o=)------------ ------------(=o

If there was anyone more conscious of pain than Monroe was, a person would be hard fetch to find that person. After all, he had been punched through concrete walls, blasted with powerful magic, electrocuted, burned, shot, stabbed, and any number of other things that would have rendered a normal human being to never want to fight again. As for the Quincy, all it made him want to do is fight harder.

As the dark clad man's body slid backwards, the walking mask smiled a little bit. Still, the Enhanced human didn't take long to skid his shoes to a stop and wrap his hands around the man's arm. Monroe smiled, almost looking like a madman as he did so, and pushed the creature's arm back before pulling the fist fighter over his shoulder and attempting to throw him through the building the two were on.

However... a shaking below caused the dark clad man to lose his footing and caused him to toss Black Shisho farther forwards than down, giving the black creature a moment to recover and land. The Quincy smiled as he looked at his lucky foe and took a few steps backwards. Here came the next round.

OoC: I enjoyed writing this post. ^_^

BiC:

From Dreamer’s Perspective~

He jumped. Not directly at her, not to cover the distance between them, but simply up. Zach leapt high into the air, clear over the Artist’s head. His legs propelled him up and above her in a feat that nearly stunned her. She watched him with wide eyes and even wider mouth as he almost floated in the space over her head. As he began to descend on her, she became aware that she should have used her Spiraling Design while he was in such an open place. Unfortunately, it dawned on her too late. She barely had time to raise her spear as he brought both of his blades down on her.

The full weight of his body, propelled by gravity, hit her with all its might. His blades struck, creating a vibrating sound that would have almost been beautiful, had they not also sent a wave of pain that traveled from her hands to her feet through her. Unable to remain fortified under such duress, her elbows bent back, and one of her legs gave out. She was brought down to one knee, barely able to support herself as the red haired man landed, continuing to press down on her. It was too much for her muscles. She let the hand closest to the spearhead release its grip.

Zach did not seem prepared for that. At the same time her spear pointed to the ground, he slid down with it. That opportunity she was not going to miss. Having a free hand, she pulled her fist back tightly. Reaching up, her fist delivered a swift jab to his forehead. He recoiled. Naturally, she used this time to get back on her feet. Her arms still shook as she retreated, returning to whatever threatening looking pose she could think of. “I wasn’t expecting you to give,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you to fly,” she replied, “Auh, and now my arms hurt.”

“And you’ve given me a headache.”

They both let out a chuckle and a smile.

As fast as they began laughing, they stopped. Still, they were both grinning through whatever pain the other had caused them. Mimicking a scene straight out of the street fighting handbook, the two began to square off. They each took slow steps to the side, sidling in a circle. Hoping he would not somehow pick up on what she was doing, Dreamer scraped the tip of her spear along the ground. Once she removed it, the Spiraling Design would activate, allowing her to use the move she previously missed the opportunity to use. It would catch him off of his guard.

The Sacred Lance wielder took a false step forward, removing her spear from the ground. He made a movement, but stopped short after the symbol appeared at her feet. Too little too late. She swung, creating a gust that very nearly knocked him off of his feet. As he struggled against the wind, she adjusted her grip to lower on the shaft. Her next wave would blow him clear to the edge of town. Another swing, and another, stronger, gust blew from where she stood. Just as she predicted, Zach, a cloud of dust, and several unweighted items were swept like leaves down the dusty street.

From Black Shisho’s Perspective~

Black Shisho came at the man with his hammer fists at the ready. Rushing in such a straightforward way, it was easy for his attack to be intercepted. He threw one fist forward, and it was caught straight on. He threw the next, and it, too, was caught. The walking mask took that as an allowed opening. In a contest of pure power, there were few who could match him. Shifting all of his strength into his arms, he pushed the man’s hands back as if he were not even trying. The rest of his body kept moving ahead. Their heads met in a near skull crunching head smash, sending the man reeling back.

Unwilling to make that his only successful strike, he did not let his attack stop. As the Quincy stumbled back, the pitch black man flipped onto his hands, taking up the This to That Stance. Though he could not see, he could feel his feet connect with the man’s body. After getting in four or five good kicks, he flipped back onto his feet. With the man wide open, he finished his chain of blows with a classic one-two across the chin. If there were ever a more satisfying result than having the dark clad man fall to one knee, Black Shisho did not know of it.

The man who had lowered himself was hardly in a useless place, though. From his low position, he snapped into a low attack. With an almost blindingly fast spin, he kicked the walking mask’s legs out from under him. Springing straight up, he brought his knee into the falling man’s back before he could even start moving toward the roof. Finally, he leapt up, lashing out with a fierce kick that sent his opponent zooming across the rooftops. He landed, not flinching or lagging for a moment before sleekly returning to the same loose stance he had used at the beginning.

Black Shisho, as he hit the roof, got angrier.

Had the pitch black man nostrils, they would have flared. Both the anger of being hit and the joy of causing pain were mixing together in a way that created a different, yet related, emotion. It was happiness. Doing what he was doing was one of two purposes that the mask turned man lived for. To do what his original was too meek and respectful to do. It was the differences between them that allowed him to feel that happiness. To revel in the glow of the fight, both feeling and causing pain. He returned to his feet, ready to once again have at the person in front of him.

Each blast of wind pushed harder and harder and knocked Zachary further and further backwards. It was almost like jumping into a hurricane spinning at full speed, only with reverse effects. Still, the lancer's more useful magic wasn't anything the Replicator would note as being worthless or weak, but different and powerful in its own way. But he did have to get out of these blasts, before he assumed his body would be shooting towards the horizon.

The amateur sorcerer's body dipped slightly, following with the slight delay between attacks. He could see salvation not too far off. The arch that he had entered under could, perhaps, save him from being blasted out of sight. The ice mage turned his body so he looked as if, on land, he would have been standing. Now it was all a matter of timing his next move.

The next wave came and, since he couldn't see it, the red haired warrior only had on real option: guess and hope for the best. Quickly, the Replicator leaned his body back, narrowly evading one of the waves thrown by Dreamer. Just enough had Zachary evaded the wave that he continued to lean back. His body seemed to almost do a back flip as he neared the arch. Just a little more.

Still, moving head first towards an oncoming stone arch isn't intelligent for anyone. Zachary knew that one of four things could happen now, but narrowed it down to two to save time thinking about which it was likely to be. Either he would finish his back flip, or he'd be blasted into the arch. Well, luck had it that the second one occurred.

Another powerful burst of wind pushed the sorcerer into the stone arch and caused his body to curl around it. The ice mage gasped as he wrapped around the arch for a second. His body went slightly limp as his upper body dangled from the position he found himself settled in on the arch, meanwhile his legs were slowly sliding off the arch.

Falling meant death... well, maybe not death, since he was landing on sand, but still, pain. Lots of pain. Still, perhaps this was the best time to press an unlikely advantage. If it worked, after all, things would turn out a little bit better, right?

The Replicator's body slid until it fell from its perch. Well, under normal circumstances, people don't normally catch themselves while falling. For Zachary, however, such things weren't too tricky. Quickly changing his fall into a spin, he quickly landed feet first on the ground. Again, though, something unexpected happened, or expected if you aren't Zachary.

His feet sank an inch or so into the sand when he hit initially. However, by the time his body weight had finished evening out, his feet were trapped in sand. Even so, for a few seconds he looked cool while he stood there, trying to figure a way to not look stupid and yet escape and go on the offensive.

Such a way didn't exist, and he quickly found himself dropping his swords and digging his feet out. As to not waste time, the amateur sorcerer grabbed his blades when his feet were free and charged towards Dreamer, evading from side to side in a zigzag formation to keep her guessing while he prepared to strike.

o=)------------- ------------(=o

As for Monroe... well, he found himself somewhat not amused. From the time he had spent training, although the Quincy noted he had trained significantly less of late, he should have been able to beat this guy to a pulp, or so the dark clad man assumed. Still, the shifting and increasing strength of the man's arms and legs and strikes made it hard to accurately pinpoint how strong he was.

"Guess I gave you a little too much credit," the archer said as he cracked his neck, then knuckled, and finally popped his shoulders a little. Monroe wasn't ever a person who let his opponent get too far ahead of him, since playing catch-up wasn't something the Technological Quincy enjoyed doing. "After all, after his punches and kicks, yours are like a nice summer's breeze. Still, you're not quite as sharp with your attacks as that kid down there, you're still quite sharp."

The dark clad man bent his knees and held his arms in front of him with his left and in back of him with his right. The Mask seemed to watch, also not amused, but still looking somewhat excited... but what the hell did he find so enjoyable about this? Even so, this guy wasn't about to give up, Monroe noted, which meant that the dark clad man have to start looking for a mode of effectively fighting.

The Quincy smiled as he readied to make his move. "I underestimated one thing about you. Apparently I haven't hit you hard enough yet, otherwise you wouldn't look so happy. Guess I must have underestimated how sturdy your body is. My muscles have been a little atrophied, though, from not having any time to train. Still, I think they're finally starting to wake up. Too bad."

The blade Quincy's body seemed to blur for a second as a motion blur stood where he had been for a second. Still, that second was far longer than it seemed to someone who watched the kind of movement that had just happened. Monroe was unsure if the black creature had seen him move or not, but still pressed his, at least, one time advantage in the burst of speed he had unleashed.

A powerful kick to Black Shisho's jaw sent the man rocketing into the air. Monroe placed his feet firmly and smiled as he readied to jump, but instead of a jump, his body became a motion blur again and he shot past the fist fighter. The dark clad man viewed the landscape from his new high point and smiled. Something about early morning in saloon towns was somewhat rewarding.

"Oh, right, I had almost forgotten," the Quincy reminded himself as the man continued to soar towards him. The mask looked upwards and met eyes with the dark clad man as Monroe leaned forwards and moved towards the still rising fighter.

With a powerful snap, the archer grasped the man's arm and spun around a few times before launching his foe towards the building they had just been standing upon. The crashing sound and the collapsing building gave Monroe a slight smirk for the damage done.

Floating idly down from where he had launched himself and using Hirenkyaku to help prevent damage upon his landing on a roof, the dark clad man watched the splinters that were where he had shot his foe. "Are you dead yet, or do I need to keep beating on you?" the dark clad man called, knowing that enraging this foe further would make this fight last longer. Even if only a little bit.

Link enters the room and looks around for banana's
gracefully dodging a hippo the size of XXL.

~From Dreamer’s Perspective~

Dreamer was mortified when, as she watched Zach fly through the air, he slammed into the stone archway. She hoped he would go either over or straight through, but he drifted up at just the right angle to crash right into it. She let out a surprised ‘Ah!’ when she saw him practically form a loop around the top of the arch. Her intention had never been to hurt him that badly; just to send him for a ride, to see how far she could make him go. She stopped feeding the wind as soon as he hit, allowing him to fall, thankfully feet first, to the ground.

Her feet were about to carry her over to check on him, but she quickly found that he was alright. He swiftly began to dig his way out of the sand he had gotten stuck in upon landing. In a few moments, he was free, eager to get back to where they were. The Sacred Lance Wielder was relieved. As he again came at her, he took care not to run in a straight line. Since both of her long range abilities affected things in a relatively narrow space, it was a good tactic. On the plus side: Target practice. When better than a practice duel was there to work on her aim with the Tiger Art.

With a completely unnecessary kai, she harshly thrust the base of her spear against the sand. The ground briefly showed the image of a roaring tiger before a blur and a trail of snow streaked from where she was standing. Zach ran out of its path before it was anywhere near him. An utter miss. So Dreamer did it again. Another miss. She did it several more times, each one missing the ever approaching Mr. Leos. Finally, she concentrated. “Speed, angle, distance, time,” she muttered, lifting her spear just slightly. “Now.” Another shockwave flew. That one made contact. He tried to avoid it, but it threw him to the ground anyhow.

At that point, the jacket sporting woman noticed that her arms were shaking. The rings on her spear rattled as she gripped the shaft. From using so much Artist power, and to limited avail no less, she was beginning to grow somewhat fatigued. Her next few uses of artist magic would have to be her last. By the time she steeled her grasp, Zachary was up and flighty as ever. She concentrated yet again. Once he was in the right position, she thrust her weapon against the ground one last time. The shockwave soared, leaving its snow as it moved.

A miss. He flipped out of its path, landing neatly on the walk of a storefront. Working as fast as she could, she swung the spearhead at the ground, putting herself into a spin as she did it. Coming around, she lifted the weapon from the sand, swinging it in his direction at the same time. The Spiraling Design came and went, throwing a powerful gust straight at him. It worked. The wind blew him backward into the building’s doorway, even causing the building itself to visibly lurch. She had no time to gloat, though, being too busy falling over. She had been concentrating on him rather than finishing her little feat.

~From Black Shisho’s Perspective~

Waves of pain surged throughout the walking mask’s body. It hurt so badly, he was practically screaming in agony. Specifically, the pains originated from his right shoulder, his left side, and his right thigh. A good chunk of him was missing from each of those places. Where pieces of him should have been, there was a gooey, black substance steadily oozing out. The pieces that should have been there had been reduced to sticky stains on several pieces of the rubble he lay amongst. His back, too, had been covered with a multitude of small scrapes.

This was enough to evoke a vocal response. “He. Hehe. Hehehe. Hahahaha. Ahahahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” He laughed. He laughed loudly, and he laughed maniacally. Shuddering and struggling on the floor of the mostly destroyed building, he let flow an almost exaggerated laugh as he strained to get to his feet with his body in such a condition. When he finally stood, one of his arms hung low, his waist tipped to the right, and his chest tipped to the left. He looked just like a man who had just been thrown through one roof and one second story floor.

He stopped laughing. Letting out an audible growl, he removed his hooded cloak, and began tearing it to shreds. “I knew it!” he shouted as he continued to rip, “Of course, I knew you could never win without your little tricks! Had to use your super speed to get the better of me! Making me look like I’m slow!” When his cover was in tatters, he began stuffing the pieces into his wounds. They closed, taking the stuff in. It was easier than normal regeneration, but not by a huge margin. “Well I have things, too! I’m not weak! I WILL KILL YOU!! I HAVE FULL DISTRIBUTION!!”

Reaching a peak of fury, Black Shisho prepared to shift his full strength in to each individual movement he made. It was his most powerful form of combat, a way of moving that put everything he had into every single strike. With this, he flipped into the This to That Stance again. Monroe very well could have moved from the edge of the walking mask’s crater before then, but he did not. Shisho pushed himself from the ground, appearing in front of the man in the blink of an eye. Feet met with chest with explosive force as he unleashed the Corrupted Drill. They continued into the air, one drilling, the other being worn away.

There wasn't anything quite as rewarding as the feeling of splinters sitting upon and pricking into flesh. The shattered tables, doors, wall, and bar had all been scattered about, but most of the ruins of the saloon sat upon the Replicator's body. There was something unnatural about the feeling of wood pushing into his skin, he noted. Although not quite sure why, Zachary sat idly in the building, just staring at the ceiling. Some would say he was contemplating life, or maybe that he was just dazed.

Truth be told, it wasn't either of these things. In reality, Zachary was just waiting for the raised part of the bar, what some would call the second floor, to fall on top of him next. After all, that was the kind of situation he was in. Whether or not this was a real battle or just training had stopped mattering. It felt like a fight for his life now... but probably only because the prospect of death loomed so strongly for a few seconds.

Still, despite these things, the ice mage simply continued to look at the upper level and remain quiet. His eyes weren't dimmed and his spirit was clearly unbroken. Instead, he seemed somewhat trapped in thought for a little while. The amateur sorcerer simply pushed himself so he was sitting up and rushed cold air over his body, removing the splinters.

"I can't just keep charging blindly like I have been. So far, that's only gotten me extreme pain," he noted, standing up. His blades were nowhere to be seen. They'd probably been thrown from his hands when her attack hit. No matter. He didn't really need a single pair, since he could create more as he needed.

For now though, he had something else in mind. Reminded of Monroe's presence at the sound of stone shattering outside, the Replicator smiled as he held his left hand out. A gray flash erupted as a sleek bow formed in his left hand. Within his right hand, semi-solid Metalloid Ice formed and quickly took the shape of a thin blade.

Smiling as he looked at the blade, the red haired warrior quickly modified the shape of the blade into a magical arrow and mounted it upon his bow. Not wasting any time, he aimed outside the door and smiled. "Miss, I'd keep your guard up. I'm not done yet!" he called out to her as he released the arrow. Hopefully she wouldn't die... or get hurt too bad. After all, this was still only training.

o=)--------------- --------------(=o

The pounding, drilling, fierce barrage of feet into his stomach and chest sent waves of pain rocketing through the Quincy. Visibly shaken with each blow that landed, he couldn't help but be slightly stunned by the sudden show of extreme force. At this rate, death was the most likely outcome of their battle. Well, at least, that was a potential.

The mask drew his feet in suddenly before pushing them out faster. His feet pounded hard into the dark clad man's gut and shot him clean through the top of the stone arch at the edge of town. A skid mark formed in the sand as the archer's body cleaved the ground and was then buried by the grave he had, accidently, dug for himself.

The artificial being's footsteps vibrated through the sands audibly as the Enhanced human lay under the earth that had buried him. So this was what it was like to be on the receiving end of a powerful attack? No, this wasn't anything like them. The people who were truly superior to Monroe. Those people who were in every way superior.

This man was a sham. A charlatan who merely masqueraded around as being strong. The Quincy's hand erupted from the sands and he pulled himself from his self dug grave. The man brushed the sand off and let the pain subside for a moment as he saw the black being walking towards him.

"Tsk," the dark clad man muttered as he jammed his hands back into his pockets and started walking towards the man. Aside from a few tears and rips in his mantle, jacket and pants, Monroe wasn't all too deterred by that last attack. "Don't think you'll beat me," the archer said as the creature threw a sudden and powerful punch.

"I'm nothing like any foe you've ever fought." A powerful, high speed thrust of his fist into Black Shisho's chest shot the being towards the other edge of town. The Quincy smiled, somewhat fulfilled by that move. "I'm sure I haven't killed you yet, so get up."

~From Dreamer’s Perspective~

The yellow haired spear user was not in the best condition. Her arms, in particular, hurt too much for her to be comfortable with. She flashed back to his flying attack, making her elbow twitch. And the heat. The sun had been projecting its intense desert heat down on her since it had first risen above the buildings that were blocking it. Her jacket, flannel shirt, and pants with long john lining were baking her alive. While she was certainly still in fighting condition, ready to swing her spear at whatever he threw at her next, it did take something of an effort to keep her spear in the upright and ready position.

Something of a dizzy spell afflicted her a few moments before Zach called something from inside the building she had blown him into. She shook sense back into her head just in time to realize that he was saying something about continuing their battle. Continue it did when an arrow flew out of the darkened doorway he waited just beyond. This caught Dreamer off her guard, off her defense, and really off anything that would have helped the arrow hit something besides herself. It appeared, made a whistling sound, glinted for a moment, and then hit her in the gut.

More accurately, it nicked her in the gut. The arrow had been dulled by that lifesaver of lifesavers, her thick-to-just-the-right-degree jacket. It had pierced the outside, came through the inside, and stopped just as the arrowhead had plunged the smallest amount of its tip into her belly. This fact was lost on her, though, thinking that she had just been fatally wounded by said arrow. For an eon of moments, she looked down at the shaft sticking out of her jacket, wondering when she was going to fall over, dead. When she did not taste her final reward, she opted to look at the wound. Nothing but a little drawn blood.

She was given no time to mull over those thoughts, belittling their depth. As soon as she saw the wound, she became privy to the idea that another one was going to be coming very soon. Hark, another arrow did fly. The Sacred Lance wielder pulled to the side as fast as her hips would allow, just barely managing to not avoid it. This arrow still stuck in, but had went clear through, from one side to the other. It had bitten mostly coat, but had still grazed her side, none the less. This arrow hurt considerably more than the first one. Clamping her teeth down, she closed her jacket tightly. Less chance of a mishap.

~From Black Shisho’s Perspective~

The incarnation of one Mage’s fury glided through the air, flying by the power of the man’s punch. He did not glide high enough to travel far, it turned out, when he hit the ground, bouncing like a stone skipping over the water’s surface. His body skipped once, twice, and then rolled to a stop. Although he ached from all of the punishment he had endured, he had flown too far into a rage to notice that he had gotten hurt at all. Rising to his feet in a snap, he snarled like a man who was trying to hard to scare children. While the emotion behind it was genuine, it came off as fake.

Black Shisho immediately broke into a run. That is, if the few steps he took before falling flat onto his face could be considered a run. While he was putting everything he had into each step, all it managed to do was destroy one footstep’s worth of sandy ground. He was pushing too hard. His steps merely blew the sand out from under him. It was too loose to handle his raw power. Snarling even louder, he lifted himself up onto all fours. Just then, he was more furious with the ground than with the person that had knocked him there. Seething, he raised a fully powered fist, and brought it down to the earth.

To anyone who may have been watching from the relative safety of the saloons and stores, it would have appeared that the walking mask exploded. The upheaval of sand from the gargantuan might of his punch had created a dust cloud that almost instantly engulfed the area. It even caused the other two on the battleground to turn their attention away from each other. At the cloud’s center, B. Shisho stood within the newly formed crater his fist had dented into the road. It was then that his rage led him to take a different, more fun approach to closing the gap between them.

Silently, he quickly walked into the nearest building. Silently only in that he had nothing to scream about just then. When he stood in the center of that particular saloon, then he began to scream. He dashed forward, smashing through everything between him and the building closest to the edge of town. Once wall after wall had been crushed, he finally punched through a barrier that had nothing but desert on the other side. At that, he ripped a piece of the wall off, and whipped it like a discus in the direction of the road. It sliced a hole in the wall as it flew.

Once more, he bounded into the center of the room, looking straight out the door. The man clad it black was clearly visible. The man clad in black was clearly laughing. Snarling again, swiftly picked up every loose object he could get his hands on. He threw each object with vicious speed, all aimed right at his fellow mantle wearer. The man became a blur in the air as each one came near him, reappearing not a few feet away from where he had been standing. Black Shisho threw even harder. There was only so much humiliation he could take.

Finally, he had enough. Getting low, he launched himself at his opponent, zipping out in a blur of his own. Success. He hit the man straight on. Together, they continued through the air, near instantly crashing into the storefront opposite the one the black bullet had fired from.

Zachary emerged from the store and looked at the woman. The arrows made of pure magic dissipated into nothing as he looked at Dreamer. She looked pretty tired, and he smiled at her. In fact, he was a bit tired, but his wounds weren't quite as serious. Still, his body was aching from her ingenious set of attacks.

The Replicator smiled as he watched the two dark figures shoot through the air and a massive crash echoed out. Wood chips shot into the air and the amateur sorcerer crossed his arms as he smiled at the spear wielder. "Miss Dreamer, I think that's enough. This place is in ruins, mostly thanks to those two. Let's call it a day. I'll heal your wounds if you want."

The red haired warrior watched where the two had hit and stepped to the side as a dark clad figure shot past him, narrowly missing the ice mage due to a narrow step out of the way. "However, after you're healed, we have to stop those two. They'll destroy everything. After all, they'll both snap shortly if this keeps up... everyone else but you and I, and possibly us, will die."

o=)------------ -----------(=o

Splinters erupted into the air as the two dark clad warriors shattered the lower part of the building, unintentionally causing it to collapse around them. The Quincy shattered the boards around him and sat up slowly, dusting his body off. Not a very pleasant trip, but at least it hadn't hurt too much. Even so, if that guy kept coming, he would get very annoying.

The boards of the building exploded as the mask rose and skulked over towards the dark clad man. "That's getting old," Monroe said as he stood up and began dusting himself off. Black Shisho roared as he rushed forwards towards the archer. The enhanced human simply continued to dust himself off as the enraged mask charged.

The mantle-wearing mask raised his fist up and aimed to wing it down as he moved to strike down his foe. The Quincy, however, had other plans. A quick movement and his arm swung up, a backhand fist struck the martial artist hard and sent his body careening through a nearby building headfirst.

The sound of the fighter's body displacing sand made Monroe smile as he jammed his hands into his pockets and began to walk towards where he had struck his foe off to. "I've had enough of you," Monroe muttered as his body began to glow.

OoC: No, the glow isn't some kind of new, awesome power. His growing anger is just releasing photons from his body, making him glow. Just means that he's getting ready to kill Black Shisho.