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Post by David B. on Sept 16, 2012 1:57:07 GMT -8
((Sorry its short))
He shrugged.
"Yeah, actually we have one right down the street. Owned by a big black fella, gray beard. He's a little snarky but is fair in his deals." David stepped around the desk, opening the door and gesturing for Marcus to head out first. "I'll introduce you, if you'd like." He would close the door and lock it, following Marcus, before turning around and marching out the front door, opposite where they came in. He'd leave the door for Marcus to close before heading down the street.
"So, you said you had plans to fight Barker. Does that mean you have already joined up with someone?"
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Sept 17, 2012 19:18:30 GMT -8
"Yeah, actually we have one right down the street. Owned by a big black fella, gray beard. He's a little snarky but is fair in his deals."
"Ha! Sounds like an old bartender I used to know back in N.Y.C. I have a feeling him and I will get along sharpish."
"I'll introduce you, if you'd like."
"Appreciated."
He said over his shoulder as he walked back out into the garage proper. The atmosphere was certainly alot more chill now that Marcus and David had gone over the particulars. Which was a relief because to Marcus, these were good people. Last thing he wanted was any kind of conflict. Specialy when they essentialy had Lady hostage.
'Speaking of actualy.....'
"So, you said you had plans to fight Barker. Does that mean you have already joined up with someone?"
"Something like that. Suffice it to say I definatly got my chips tossed in. I just hope they realize what kind of weapon they suddenly have thier hands on."
He couldn't help but be cryptic. Despite being in the city for a few months now, He was still a political newcommer and hadn't quite figured out all the nuances between the different factions and groups. The temporary cold shoulder was a stark reminder.
'Watch your words boyo. Watch them good.'
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Post by David B. on Sept 26, 2012 15:17:37 GMT -8
David grinned, and nodded.
"Fair enough." The were at least five or ten minutes from the junk yard, David stuffing his hands in his pockets. He wouldn't say he knew all the major players in their little resistance, as knowledge in itself was power, and he wanted to keep his own part in it under wraps until he was forced to reveal anything. It was part of the reason the Dragons kept masks over their faces, so nobody could hunt them down later. They were all conditioned to handle torture as well, in the case that Barker got ahold of on of them and tried to make him squeal.
"One thing to keep in mind, though- not everyone has the same idea about how Barker needs to be handled. Some say to move slowly. Others prefer the direct approach. You'd do well to check with all sides, to find the one that suits you, ya know what I mean?"
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Sept 28, 2012 16:35:55 GMT -8
"One thing to keep in mind, though- not everyone has the same idea about how Barker needs to be handled. Some say to move slowly. Others prefer the direct approach. You'd do well to check with all sides, to find the one that suits you, ya know what I mean?"
Marcus smiled knowingly.
"Only too well. Besides, I already have a maddening methodology fireforged and tempured while during my tenure in an institution regarded by the sane as 'wicked' and the deranged as 'home'."
He blasted off in an almost lyrical chant. His words flowing from his mouth with an almost watery rythme. He turned to David, still with that smile on his face.
"As for me? I always refered to it as my Wicked home. Not quite sure where that places me."
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Post by David B. on Oct 3, 2012 20:50:30 GMT -8
He cocked an eyebrow. Wicked...?
"Please don't tell me your with the Hornhelms. I'm not sure I could handle that."
David had nothing against collective followers, or gangs. He did have something against senseless killing and flesh eating. He had heard stories, and perhaps that's all they were, but was was definitely not interested in finding out. Having encountered them once with Delilah...well, it was all he needed to steer clear of their territory. At least for now. They came around the corner, pounding on the gate. No answer. He frowned. The man was almost always around this time of day. He would push open the gate and step inside.
There, gathered around the body, was five men, dressed in tattered clothes, laughing. His fists clenched.
"Mother fuckers!"
They turned at the sound of his voice, startled for a moment before grinning stupidly at each other.
"Well well...another toy come to play!"
Davids jaw ground his teeth.
"HE'S AN OLD MAN! DO I LOOK OLD TO YOU!?"
David ran forward, left hand palming the face of one of the thugs, running backward with the man and smashing the back of his head against a cement wall. The others would turn and run after, intent to pounce on him.
STATS of enemies:
Str: 20
Dex: 20
Con: 20
Wis: 20
Int: 20
Cha: 20
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Oct 5, 2012 22:36:34 GMT -8
"Please don't tell me your with the Hornhelms. I'm not sure I could handle that."
"They sound like a retarded football team. So no, I'm not."
Marcus assured the man, despite the fact that he had no clue exactly what David was refering to. Who the hell where the Hornhelms? Another gang or scavanger tribe? Marcus was pondering this as they rounded the corner and found themselves infront of the old mans scrapyard. His pondering came to an abrupt halt after they stepped inside.
What Marcus saw before him was a scene played out more times than he cared to think about. Back in high school he would always come upon a piddly group of wannabe tough guys ganging up on some lone kid or another. He hated it then, he hated it now.
And his reaction to it will always be the same.
The mans mellow brown eyes would harden into razor sharp flints as a threatening growl erupted from deep within his chest and out his throat through clenched teeth. Individualy they were weak as kittens, but as a group they might have been able to trouble Marcus, mabey back when he was in his early teens anyway. Fortunatly it would seem, as the gaggle of thugs attempted to dogpile David, that the man seemed to have everything under control. Which left Marcus to slip past the melee and pull the old man's body aside before assessing his injuries and administering first aid.
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Post by David B. on Oct 7, 2012 17:42:57 GMT -8
As Marcus moved for the old man, a large man, almost seven feet tall, stepped out of the shed carrying a jar of money. He gave a toothy grin to Marcus before setting down the jar.
He'd step forward and charge Marcus, attempting to tackle him.
Stats of big fella:
Str: 45
DEX: 15
Con: 60
Wis: 5
Int: 5
Cha: 5
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Oct 8, 2012 15:53:52 GMT -8
Marcus shook his head as the big man stepped out. Just dumb greedy muscle, nothing really to worry about. As the big guy charged, Marcus would take a few steps forward and leap up into the air, kicking off of the top of the brutes head before landing softly with barely any trouble.
"Hey old man? You ok?"
He cried, hoping to get some sort of reaction before turning back to the brute, who he hoped had been thrown off balance and faceplanted. His weight and force should have been capable of driving the big guy down to the ground.
And if not? Then this little game would continue.
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Post by David B. on Oct 8, 2012 15:56:35 GMT -8
The man's eyes widened a little.
Where did the little fart go?
A kick to the back of the head sent his face eating the gravel, before he stood back up and looked around.
"Quick man...." His voice was slow, and obviously unintelligent.
"We play more?"
He'd walk over this time, careful to keep his eyes on the enemy, not noticing the pieces of cement stuck into his now bleeding face.
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Oct 8, 2012 16:14:17 GMT -8
"Alright Bluto we'll play some more."
Marcus teased as he ran towards the big guy. Closing the distance blurringly fast, Marcus would 'walk' up the big guy, putting his first foot onto the mans instep, his second foot into his chest before driving his first foot into the mans face, hoping to drive him backwards and back into the ground yet again with enough force to make a small crater with the dumb muscles head.
He would finish the big guy with a coup de gra, bringing his foot up and slamming it into the mans face as hard as he could.
Stepping off, he would make his way back to the old man, shaking his head. It was funny really. It was easy to be flashy against the weak and it was a nessesity to be flashy against the strong, keeps them off guard. It was only against those his own power level where Marcus had to forgo flash for practical.
Reaching the old man, Marcus leaned down and gave his face a light slap.
"Common, I know you're still kicking my negro friend!"
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Post by David B. on Oct 18, 2012 17:21:12 GMT -8
The big man was dumb- very dumb. But he learned over time. Man moves fast, catch him still.
As he felt the footsteps on his body, he'd reach out blindly, grabbing at the shape he could barely see.
His fingers would likely close around Marcus' midsection, then the big man would spike Marcus down like a football.
David was leaning against the car, watching everything. Around him, bodies were bloodied and unmoving. He was very curious to watch Marcus fight. The kid was showy, but had talent, and he could respect that.
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Oct 19, 2012 21:41:59 GMT -8
Well this was an interesting development. Unfortunatly for the big fella, all he's done now was get Marcus' attention as he reassessed the thugs threat level, more than conciously aware of the big guys meaty fist scrunching the front of his shirt
Thinking fast, Marcus would violently twist his body like a wild animal so that he could swing his legs and wrap them around the man's upper arm and shoulder, pulling him into an arm bar and yanking HARD, applying tremendous amounts of pressure.
If he didn't yield, Marcus would continue pulling until he dislocated the shoulder.
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Post by David B. on Oct 25, 2012 10:09:42 GMT -8
By twisting his body, Marcus would rip his own shirt, the man standing there staring at his hand a little confusingly, as though he didn't expect to lose his grip.
He felt a very violent pain in his arm as his shoulder was dislocated, his elbow snapping backward at the joint. Shouting out, he would attempt to grab a rock with his good hand and smash the little snake holding on to his now fucked arm.
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Post by Marcus Prasad on Oct 28, 2012 21:15:48 GMT -8
The big man should not have paused. Marcus was angry now considering that WAS his favorite shirt.
The Kid gloves were comming off now.
With the time offered to him, Marcus would drop his feet to the ground, keeping his grip on the mans arm and piroette on the spot, twisting the limb even further, hopefully shredding the meat and ligaments around the ball socket joint.
He would then Kick the brutes knee out from under him, hoping to drop him down before putting a hand atop of the mans head and pulling it violently back, Bringing his knee up to cave the back of his skull with.
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Post by David B. on Nov 3, 2012 17:12:40 GMT -8
The man coughed blood, spilling red across the surface of the cement as the back of his head split- his head, however, was a thick one. He began to choke and try clawing at Marcus, trying to get this strange little demon off him before it was too late.
OOC((Sorry it's short- once the fights done, we'll continue. haha))
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