[Lair 1v1] Ghosts of Time (Shaheen/Mort)

[medigel]

This was one of the more frightening excursions to the Lair Mort had embarked upon. Tensions about being a marked student as opposed to a natural horseman had been tenuous at best before, but after that battle with the hunters in the snow, suspicions had been flared to a peak for some; students had been seen assaulting the horsemen, which did not put Initiates into a favorable light just on principle. Mort was glad that he had chosen to wear a signature hoodie for the day, ducking beneath the hood and pretending to ignore the looks some clansmen gave him as he wandered the underground lair.

Truth be told, the zomboil wasn't afraid of being ousted or hurt. He'd been through far worse than old fashioned spite and bullying to think it mattered. What did matter, however, were what the horsemen he was looking for thought.

There had been whispers about that a group of horsemen still wore the marks from their last major defeat, streaks of gray like the ghostly phoenix painted on their skin and marking their eyes and hair as well. And Mort had to track them down, because if these rumors were true, then they had been dealing with Insanity for quite some time and perhaps had some insight as to how to manage it . . . Or they'd have a weapon and a few cold words ready for him instead. Either or.

Mort was all but practically bracing for the latter; he was a magnet for trouble after all.  

[Seussi]

It was Mort's lucky day. Or maybe not so lucky, depending on how one looked at these things. Such horsemen existed, and indeed he was about stumble upon one the second he began making his way past the training grounds, which is where Shaheen had situated herself for the current moment. She had it on good authority (stalking authority) that her parents had made themselves a home on the eastern quadrant of the lair, and that at this time of day they were usually indoors or were at the baths. Either way, she figured she would be fairly safe, knowing that they usually held their own time to train in the early evenings.

So here she was, the cloak she often used to hide herself sitting in a crumpled pile somewhere nearby, hair tied back in a high ponytail that still trailed down to her shoulder blades in wavy blonde curls streaked with grey. She'd already worked up a fine sheen of sweat over her bronzed skin, as she attacked on of the training dummies relentlessly, first stabbing and hacking with her dagger before rolling to the side, grabbing for a bow and a quiver of arrows that lay upon the ground, and springing up into a crouched position to let an arrow fly.

Which promptly sailed past it's intended target, instead sticking into a wooden pole of a nearby vendors stall. She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat as she straightened, eyes scanning for anybody nearby...

"You, boy!" She called out, gaze landing upon what appeared to be a student, scurrying through the lair like an unwanted rat. "Bring that back over here." She pointed towards the arrow, lodged deep into the wooden post, and waited.  

[medigel]

Zzppt!

He had just been passing by what looked like the horseman version of a strip maul when the arrow zipped past him and embedded itself into one of the stalls. Mort blinked owlishly as the proprietor cursed at Shaheen, following the angry horseman's gaze to very, very Amazonian looking woman. Damn she had legs, she probably towered even over Alex -

And that's when Mort saw the swirls of gray and his Core tightened with anticipation. It could just be war paint, but from what he had seen they were often colorful: yellow and red and blue, not something as bland as gray. Taking his chances, the zomboil bent down and with a grunt dislodged the arrow, wiggling it at the proprietor so that he knew it was a no harm no foul sort of deal before shuffling over to return it to the horsewoman. "Was close," Mort commented mildly, offering the arrow back as he pulled his hoodie off.

It was probably a bit creepy the way he was trying not to stare at those telltale marks.

"Ah . . . m'curious. Those natural?"  

[Seussi]

Shaheen resolutely ignored the stall holder, waving her hand at him in a gesture that clearly stated she couldn't give less of a care about hitting his little shop. Besides, that's what he deserved for setting one up so near the training area, though she knew they were quite pressed for space and people took whatever they could get.

She waited for the return of her arrow with a scowl, reaching out to snatch it away from the blue skinned boil who retrieved it for her at her command, her look not yet softening, not even at the lie badly disguised as a compliment. "It was no where near." She replied, twirling the arrow with grey fingers as though it were a baton, studying the boil who was pulling his hood back, watching his eyes that weren't looking in her own, but rather at other things that he best stop looking at, as an urge for eye gouging rose up within her.

"It's rude to stare." She growled at him through gritted teeth, a thumb pressing up into the shaft of the arrow until it snapped with a loud crack in her hand. Well, that had certainly been a waste of his time to bring it back to her, hadn't it? She discarded the now broken arrow to the ground and was about to turn away and go back to her training when he spoke up, and she took pause, golden eyes staring hard into his.

"Are what natural?" She hissed, her tone of voice dangerous. But she knew what he had been staring at, and so she continued on. "There is nothing natural about what afflicts me." She sounded pissed off, and she eyed the boy up and down as though deciding something.

"Why?"  

[medigel]

That was probably a bad word choice, but it did elucidate what he wanted to know. Even if it meant having a bristling horseman glaring at him. She was . . . War? Famine? No wait probably War, all the tattoos and the wings and all. Yeah, having a violent horseman annoyed was not good.

"M-Meant no disrespect," Mort said quickly, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Understand, believe me. D-Don't have marks yet but . . . H-Have same problem as you." He glanced about to make sure no-one was near, unsure of how aware the horsemen were of their own infected but not willing to bring it up as casually as, say, the weather in any case.

"Was hoping t'find others like you. Want to talk. Want to know how you deal, if have learned new information," the zomboil continued in a lower voice with a meaningful look. "Want t'cure 'ventually. B-But first want allies."  

[Seussi]

She stared at him, hard, though if he was looking closely back he might have seen the momentary flicker of surprise in her eyes when he mentioned having the same "problem" as her. It was quickly gone, however, and replaced with open scrutiny, as her eyes flickered over his face, his hands, his hair, any visible part of him really, even if he did say that he didn't have the marks. How could he not have any marks? She'd had them from the start.

She was seriously doubting he had any idea of what it was he was speaking about. Her mood was plummeting rather rapidly. But, she could give him the benefit of the doubt. She could, and she would, for the sake of her own curiosity, not just to humor him.

But not without a little fun first.

Standing still and staring at him for what likely seemed far to long, she finally nodded, then gave a quick jerk of her head to the side, towards the middle of the training area.

"Do you spar, young one? Fight with me now, and if I deem you worthy of further conversation, then we can talk more, and I may choose to answer your questions to the best of my ability." May, not will, but she was loathe to ever commit herself to anything, especially where a student was involved, even if he was initiated.  

[medigel]

Fighting? Come to think of it, he hadn't really been exposed to much of how the horsemen fought . . . Battles like the one in the foggy vortex didn't count for much when half of the time it was against Hunters and he was busy his own deal. Like a raging Aymet. Actually considering what had happened, it was a pleasant surprise to not be immediately attacked . . .

"Fair 'nuff," he answered with a nod. "Did wonder what would be like to fight horsemen . . ." Just not on the battlefield where doing that sort of stuff would looked really, really bad.  

[medigel]

Following Shaheen to the sparring field, he picked a side and shed his hoodie, tossing it off to the side in a heap. "Is until certain point?" he asked as he rolled his shoulders and felt them pop. "Or 'til say uncle or similar?" Very culturally aware, this one. At least he was trying?

Adjusting his gloves, Mort began to concentrate his Fear; Thor hummed in response. As the power began to kick in, he directed it more towards his legs and began to lightly hop on the balls of his feet, assuming a ready stance with his mech arm forward. ["Either way, m'ready!"

Using Learned Skill Beginning's Speed Boost: +1 accuracy for 3 turns

HP: 50
Damage: N/A
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

So he'd never fought against a horsemen before. Good to know, considering he was meant to be an ally, helping them with their cause, but at the same time it was not thought that comforted her. These were nothing more then children, but they should have been properly trained by now. Just throwing them into tasks for the lair, forcing them to fight against hunters....what was the point if they were not properly prepared first?

She strode towards the area she had indicated with another nod of approval, at least thankful that he was brave enough to continue on rather then turn and walk away from the fight.

Though she herself wasn't sure if this was the wisest of decisions. She knew after her spar with Senga that she had become much stronger then she used to be. She could tell when she summoned her mount as well. The lioness appeared more powerful, and the effort to summon her was not nearly as tiring as it used to be. She often pondered whether she might be able to take on the form of her mount herself again as she had been able to do so before the Isles had fallen, but had not yet been able to bring herself to try.

Still, new found strength or not, it was hard to forget how easily she had been defeated by a student in the Amityville gymnasium. Keeping that in mind, and eyeing the contraption on the boys arm with some amount of interest, she wasted no time in summoning her own dagger to her hand, concentrating on her own Fear and forcing it into the blade until it shone with an eerie, dull yellow glow that flickered grey.

"We fight until one either falls or surrenders. Keep in mind that if you surrender, I will likely walk away from our previous conversation without a backwards glance." She thought that much was already obvious, though.

And then she threw herself forward with a cry while pulling the dagger back and driving it forward with as much force as she could put behind it.


HP: 50
Damage: 14
Fear: Y3 BC-using because why waste time, Y2 BC  

[medigel]

"Right."

He hasn't been sparring as much as he used to, and that had been a small enough amount in and of itself. Fighting dummies and lifting weights so that Thor need grew cumbersome wasn't the same as sparring with someone - nor was it anything like taking a direct Fear attack. At most his eyes widened and his meh arm was brought up just before the dagger scraped along it and his shield, throwing him back and off balance with a small cry.

Pointy things just loved Mort. He was reminded of how similar the blow from Belladonna's death knight was.

Catching himself with thankfully alert and energetic feet before he fell over, the zomboil planted himself again in the same stance, if a little more guarded now. He fixed himself with a determined look and balled Thor's hand into a fist, hoping he could find another opportunity to hit with the next round.

Surrender never occurred to him. When he had ever really given up on something he set his mind to?

Using Learned Skill Beginning's Speed Boost: +1 accuracy for 2 turns

HP: 36
Damage: Mort really?
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Her first attack done and the element of surprise with her hard attack through with, the war chieftain flared her wings behind her and gave two sweeping and powerful beats, the dust and small debris that littered the ground rising and swirling upwards, a movement meant to distract and partially blind her opponent.

Swinging her dagger at the boy a second time, though without a charge of Fear so with nothing more then her own brute strength to drive it home, she couldn't help but glance to his metallic fist, the contraption that encased part of his arm pricking her curiosity. It was no doubt a weapon of some kind, she was sure of that, but technology as a whole was something that she rarely paid any attention to.

"What is that?" She demanded, giving a quick nod of her head towards his mechanical fist, even as her dagger struck home, as though used to conversing freely during a spar, like it was completely normal, which to her it was.


: 50
Damage: 5
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC

Ol-j-man

getting in my tags when I can wooooo!

 

[medigel]

He braced himself for impact, grunting as the dagger struck his shield and Thor at once. If he had any doubts that he was dealing with a War horseman, they were gone now. When the scrap of metal on metal stopped ringing in his ears, he properly heard her question and smiled a bit, always ready to talk about his pride and joy.

He didn't speak at first however, deciding to showcase what Thor could do first before explaining. There was a second's pause in which the contraption lit up with energy before it was swung forward in a literally charged punch to force her away. "Thor," he said by way of introduction, moving to the side once he noticed he was getting a bit close to the edge of the arena. "Own creation." It'd suffice for now.

HP: 31
Damage: 7
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill  

[Seussi]

She awaited his response even while she continued to move, preparing to thrust her dagger at him for just one more quick slash before taking a more defensive stance. She didn't quite get there fast enough, however, her dagger flashing towards him even as he threw a punch back her with his steel encased fist. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, the best she could really do was turn and take the punch in her left shoulder, which sent a jolt of pain and...something else, something that tingled and left her arm feeling oddly numb as she pushed herself back away from him, her arm hanging at her side and her hand clenching and unclenching into a fist.

"Impressive." She murmured, more to herself then to him, though he had not exactly explained what a "Thor" was supposed to be.

"And you made it yourself?" She inquired, "From materials that you scavenged?"

As soon as the words parted from her mouth, she threw her dagger with a small grunt of effort, the blade slicing through the air towards the yet to be determined if worthy opponent.


HP: 43
Damage: 8
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC  

[medigel]

He managed a bit of a smile at the compliment in spite of the fact that he was sure in a few more rounds he'd be downed. "Thanks. Yeah, made from metal scraps," he explained. "M'decent at p-putting things t'gether if need to, 'specially tech stuff." And finding ways to make things work even when to the naked eye it looked impossible.

Mort couldn't help the yelp that escaped him when the dagger was flung at him, though, and again he braced his arms before him; he knew better than to try and actually dodge, speed boost or not. The dagger slashed his shield with a bunt force that knocked him back again. Jackdamn, he was out of it today . . . Or had he always been this awful at battling? No, even when he looked the horseman in the eye and powered up his Fear charge, he could feel his concentration wavering.

Damn whispers.

Trying to hide a wince, he powered his electricity into tangible green zigzags of lightning in his hands and tossed them in return, one after the other in rapid succession. Yet despite the fact that he was relieved it had worked at all, Mort felt a bitter taste in his mouth at how little kick it was giving in comparison to what he knew is capabilities were. He was going to lose the horseman's interest just because he couldn't freaking make a dent in battle.

Damn. Whispers.

Or maybe just damn him.

HP: 23
Damage: 11.5 (50%) = 12 damage + 1 dmg (final turn of Speed Boost) = 13 dmg
Fear: Y3 SS, Y2 Eye, Y1 Chill

-Seussi

 

[Seussi]

She gave a swift nod to show that she was listening, though a lot of it still made little sense to her. Metal scraps? She knew how to make things out of wood, and bone, and stone, and very little about crafting steel. She shrugged if off mentally, however, preparing another question, her mouth already partway open when the sparks of green caught her attention and cut her off.

And then, suddenly, pain. Numbing, spine tingling, jolting pain that seemed to travel through nearly every nerve in her body as she was struck repeatedly by bolts of electricity. She let out her own uncontrollable yelp at the sensation. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, nor did she wish to experience it again.

When it was over, she was glowering at him, any and all curiosity and the calm that she had settled into for the spar at hand completely wiped away. The gold of her eyes almost seemed to glow just faintly, and her chest heaved, her face tinted just the tiniest bit red as rage settled in. He had made her yelp in pain. A student. A student had made her....

With a cry that sounded oddly like a wild animal snarling, she leaped towards him, turning on her heel and hitting him with the only part of her body that wasn't still tingling with the after affects of his attack.

She slapped him with one of her wings.

HP: 30
Damage: 4
Fear attack: Y3 BC-used, Y2 BC

Ol-j-man

yo turn~