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Everything that drowns me, makes me wanna fly. |
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 3, 2010 1:51:36 GMT -8
When I get bored,… I kill people
Murder…had she fallen so low. She knew it would happen…she knew it all along. All knights either died honorably or fell to madness…only a few made it out and in the end their lives her plagued with nightmares. She was weak, weaker then she had thought.
“did she….just kill him?” one questioned, too stunned to absorb the information.
“Bastille, what have you done? Bastille this is not a dojo for killing!” The master called.
“She killed him, she really did it…with a wooden sword…she really did.” Another man gasped out.
“I’m….sorry” Bastille managed to whisper as the blood slid down her face and arms. As silently as a shadow Bastille whipped around the room killing everyone that was left with their own style. In truth she had mastered it long before she had actually gotten to duel phase. One slice, and another…it was easier then stabbing and combined with fencing moves as well as gymnastics, slaughtering them all was simple. Too simple.
Bastille stood up tears running down her cheeks.
“Someone….kill me please…” She whispered before her emotionless face reappeared and she walked out of the dojo covered in her fellow students blood. It wouldn’t be long till the police tracked it down to her…she couldn’t go home.
Into the street she went, dragging the sword at her side, her eyes down cast. Oh yes….darkness, if only it would grip her. Grip her tightly…what was happening to her?
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Jan 3, 2010 19:57:58 GMT -8
Rainy night, not so much different to the tide he was caught under whether that be by his own means or not. Eyes tracked the night and the dark morose breath of the wind swiping those thunderous birds across the night canvas. It was strange that twinge, the scent of a cool copper tone on the breeze, blood was on this night. The blood of many and to think genocide in this day and age was impossible they had best thought wrong. It didn't take Gabriel wrong to enter the streets seeing as he was merely wrapping up deals with street vendors managing his own growing business, quite a slow process alone but much more rewarding in a sense. However he came across that strong scent escaping through the dark causeways of Long Beach, the familiar twinge hitting his nose.
"You should not tread there, its not your business..."
"She is my business."
Gabriel opened through to the larger streets wondering how she'd grown so devilishly congealed.
"Bastille... rest now..." A welcoming hand stretching out though he was cloaked in darkness his voice apparent though strangely more calming than otherwise.
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Everything that drowns me, makes me wanna fly. |
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 3, 2010 23:03:36 GMT -8
The twilight air was chilling. It was calming to her nerves...and she was calming down. Only to realize what she had done. An exasperated sigh...and her eyes returned to normal. A few more hours and she might be able to recover herself...Maybe. Two nights ago had been the end of her sanity...and hse knew she was loosing to powerful forces...of course it was this thought that brought back her sence that someone was watching her.
"She is my buisness..." Damnit what did that fucking frenchie want now!
"DONT TOUCH ME!" she hissed turning and slashing her sword out into the darkness. Her eyes glared onto the spot Gabriel sat. She didnt say anything just pointed her sword and suddenly...almost wickedly..
definatly insainly...
smirked.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Jan 3, 2010 23:14:27 GMT -8
"DONT TOUCH ME!"
Certainly fierce words biting at the air in which the two breathed. Gabriel caught his own breath cautiously retracting his hand with a tad moment of concern. He could tell by her feral nature there was a heavy burden on her mind something that was perhaps provoked by a sense of insanity he could say he once shared. but once again Gabriel was a changed man, changed in senses and skill as well as abilities but not morality. In that sense he was very much the same concern twitching against his better judgment to take flight and leave.
"Alright...."
Gabriel would say poking out into the night as his feet crossed over one another cautiously taking to step with a swordsman's pace. Circling her in a sense much like a predatory demon. Eyes set on what she was up to next.
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Everything that drowns me, makes me wanna fly. |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 3, 2010 23:27:21 GMT -8
She didnt comment only rushed into battle. This one would be the same as those students or she would die by his hand...thats how she knew to live right now...And with that she charged at him full speed her sword drawn with expert skill...but she did not fight with a fencing style, but rather a kendo style in which her sword seemed to adapt quite well. She at first sent many easily blocked jabs forcing him back before using what speed she had to get behind him and try and catch him off gaurd whipping out her sword from a sheithed placment.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Jan 3, 2010 23:54:29 GMT -8
Quite like her to take advantage of a weak situation because now Gabriel would strike back with just as much emphasis to defend his worth. The close box formation made speed less of a factor and while he was still dramatically slower than her he could react just enough to save his own sorry hide.
Gabriel took a step back his right hand drawing up his own blade not swift enough to defend with his own blade but rather taking the hilt and using it's tip as a shield for the blow.
"Take haste to your rage!" Gabriel snarled using what strength he had to shove her back.
1) 6 ---------------- Totale: 6 x1.8
Strength: 101 Dexterity: 25 Constitution: 2 Intelligence: 76 Wisdom: 95 Charisma: 2
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Everything that drowns me, makes me wanna fly. |
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 4, 2010 3:16:38 GMT -8
"fuck off!!!" Bastille growled and slammed her blade into him. She wasnt wearing her new boots, but her legs where still damaged from a few days of trying them out. Her eyes narrowed and she whipped around, but her legs where slower then usual. However she kept tha onsalught coming, and blocking his attacks seemed easy enough. However she backed up suddenly and gripped her blade .
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Jan 4, 2010 3:23:12 GMT -8
Gabriel only made one move in the whole confrontation and bitterly grimaced from how it'd turned out, an already temperamental Bastille at the turn of events, what if he was just trying to help... She didn't want help and perhaps least of all from him, he could at least understand her that much. Backing up he'd lower his blade cautiously, he only reacted out of defense to begin with.
"You're the one pointing the blade Bastille." However made of wood it was.
Gabriel still cocked a brow taking it as though she had serious intentions in which case he figured she was to be a tad bit problematic in what ordeals she'd gone through this day.
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Everything that drowns me, makes me wanna fly. |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 4, 2010 19:29:36 GMT -8
"Yes...it is" She said and then took a step forward going to slam the blade into his chest and neck before jumping back weather or not either shots hit and then with a swift turn pushed off onto the top of a near by fence then to the roof of the house. She slipped and stumbled a bit at the top before jumping over to the next roof...her legs where damaged from wearing those damn boots too long, and although they where not on now she could still feel their effect. She slid into an allyway and then dashed making it as far as a park. She looked behind her and then continued to walk the trail further in the park. She would have to sneak home tonight and get her school cloths for the morning,...she'd attend school as long as no one looked for her.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Jan 4, 2010 20:39:46 GMT -8
Gabriel felt the sharp blow against his collar bone feeling the harsh snap as he collapsed to the ground roughly. A hand holding his balance and the knee bent at an angle supporting him up. He felt weak, tired and worst of all beaten. But fighting was his strong suit he'd not be giving up. Only when his eyes looked up to realize she wasn't there. Bastille had fled rather than fight.
"And she calls me French.."
Gabriel made a soft laugh getting up weakly to drag his sorry carcase off.
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