Post by Fang on Nov 3, 2019 1:35:26 GMT -8
Name: Fang
Species: Saiyan/Human Hybrid
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Skills & Statistics
Focus Mastery: --
Potential Mastery: Level 3
Ability Mastery: Level 1
Technique Mastery: --
Legendary Mastery: --
Class Mastery: Level 0
Fighting: 15
Energy Control: 40
Reflexes: 15
Resilience: 20
Melee Accuracy: 1d100+15
Ranged Accuracy: 1d100+40
Defense: 50
HP: 50
Ki: 100
DR: -5 (Class Modifier + Resilience Bonus)
Ki Reduction: -2 (Energy Control Bonus)
Class: Mystic (Lv. 0)
Racial Trait: Zenkai
Effort Points: 4482
Power Level: 3665
Zeni: 1000 Zeni
Mastery Points: 0/21
Traits: Efficiency
Class Features:
Lv. 0
Mysticism – You begin every thread with 5 Arcane Points(AP) and may spend them At-Will for the following effects:
-Abjure: You gain one additional Bonus Action on this turn- this Bonus Action may only be used to perform Reactive Defensive Techniques.
-Cleansing: You may remove one non-Special Status Effect from yourself or an ally of your choice.
-Denial: You may select one non-Basic Technique known by an opponent. That opponent may not use the selected Technique for three turns. Only two techniques may be affected by Denial at a time.
-Evoke: You sacrifice 10 HP and restore 10 Ki.
-Restoration: You restore 10 HP to yourself and your allies. You may instead choose to restore 5 HP and 5 Ki to yourself and your allies.
Healer - You begin play with the Utility Technique “Heal” and may use it one additional time per ally. This does not count as your Starting Technique, however it uses a Technique Slot.
Appearance: Spending ten years out in the wilds in harsh living conditions in a band of society’s lowest, Fang lacks a civilized appearance. A body honed by constant efforts towards surviving is sometimes shown off by her tendency to eschew the usage practical clothing in battle. From head to toe, she boasts an athletic physique geared towards agility, wrapped in fair skin. From many conflicts, she has earned umpteen scars along her body varying from minor to huge. While her two-piece battle attire, should she expect it, include black fur leggings, gloves, and her signature boar mantle, she also has the capacity to dress casually. A shoulderless black, white and blue minidress with black leggings and boots, and metallic gloves. Again, the most notable characteristic she has is the huge black pig mask she wears as her mantle, no matter the outfit. To top it off, she is crowned by a long mane of white hair with violet highlights. A prehensile tail denotes half her heritage, strange felid traits denote the Earthling half. She lacks an imposing stature, standing at around 5’3” and weighing 115 lbs.
Personality: When it comes to speaking like a sailor, Fang is an expert on the topic. To say the least, the woman is profane. She spent the better half of her life growing up among cutthroats and delinquents; her mannerisms tend to reflect this development. If she can get away with slights versus the law, she probably will take it up should it not be heinous and or too risky. As someone coming from nothing, and still being dirt poor, Fang is one to spit at the notion of taking money for granted, or believing it isn’t synonymous with happiness.
Her motivations and attitude are defined by her insatiable lust for adventure and exploration of the unknown, to the point where she might undertake tasks that endanger her well-being just to sate her curiosity. She lacks a concrete moral philosophy, maintaining a dutiful agnostic belief system where she confesses to not knowing anything besides the fact she does not know anything. There is compassion within her, and her moral dilemmas can go one way or the other depending on the exact circumstance and whom she might be imposing ill-will onto. At the end of the day, Fang is not on the side of order or chaos; she is on her own side alone. Therefore, she tends to take whatever option caters to her own survival and or those she cares about. For those people, her inclination to being helpful often surfaces.
On top of being infatuated by adventure, Fang tends to be incredibly destructive. In essence, she has a bad temper that has worsened since the massacre of her comrades in arms. Though she deep down is a person with a more avoidant nature when it comes to outright conflict (thanks to her Earthling side), Saiyan blood and circumstance has created a temper infernal enough to push through any inner defense mechanisms. If the door does not work, then she might see it fit to blast through it. Unless she has good reason, she refrains from holding back in combat and ends up leaving ruin in her wake. Fang possesses the capacity to be ruthless if she chooses, and it often comes out during serious fights with lives on the line. In fact, it even bleeds out during regular contests where nothing is at stake.
Some better points of her personality include a surprising amount of creativeness and resourcefulness. Growing to learn how to adapt, use everything to her advantage, and resort to shrewd tactics to get what she desires. She compensates for her shortcomings both outside and inside of battle with cunning. After all, one learns how to make use of as much as they can when their life depends on it.
History: Fang grew up far removed from the concepts of clans and family. What became of her parents after the pair left her in a dingy alleyway belonging to Oolong City was knowledge the woman never became privy to, nor did she care to find out. Despite the cruelty of abandonment, she always was an individual who luck seemed to favour and a thoroughbred survivor. A less than reputable couple found her in a basket in that discreet passage, and decided to keep her. It was a gesture not out of mercy, but out of a lust for profit.
The duo were proprietors of an underground fighting arena, complete with gambling. Their idea was to raise the half-Saiyan to be a fighter and use her as the main attraction in their business of gladiatorial combat. Rather than take care of her themselves for the first years of her life, both chose to hire many different faces to serve as her daily caretakers. From there she was trained as a young girl through brutal means. She faced and was thwarted by many different styles, but had an aptitude for adapting and using cheap tricks to defend herself against impossible odds. These regimes continued until her teenage years.
After making her debut into the arena called the Pig Pen, she gained a small amount of fame for her roguish exploits, brutality, and enthusiasm for battle despite her adolescence. However, her tenure was short in the fighting pits. She caught the interest of an orchestrator banding together a group battling within the confines without choice, who recruited her into the cause through deception. Rather than telling her that it was an escape, he convinced Fang that the group intended to band together and leave for a place with even more opportunities for combat. Following her agreement, the fighters managed to push through security and steal a bus.
For awhile, the escape was going well. Until a mechanical failure happened in the bus and the group plummeted down a small cliff.
Half of the former combatants lost their lives in the fall, but Fang was lucky enough to have her injuries lessened by virtue of falling on another person and their body cushioning the impact for her. Suffering from a broken wrist, she made her way out of the ruined vehicle to realize her new surroundings. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere at the outskirts of a wilderness, every party there lacked means of getting back up the hurdle and heading in the direction of civilization.
No means of communication through technology, the band decided to work together to brave the elements while progressing through them. Always the outsider, Fang watched from a stance of neutrality while the group began to turn on one another over the span of a month courtesy of a shortage of food. Few in the group were seasoned survivalists, and danger lurked around every corner. Starvation was a breeding ground for insanity, and the group eventually began paying homage to a slaughtered boar in hopes of receiving more of nature’s bounty. Twisted luck was on her side again; she returned from foraging berries to find the remaining numbers dead from a fight over food, sparing her from the fatal conflict.
Hollowing out the pig head and wearing it as an accessory, perhaps out of a reminder of who she was and where she came from, she set out further into the unknown. She found an encampment of bandits who were out on an expedition in the Western Lands, and was mistaken for their leader because of her new hat. The leader never returned from a trip, and she wagered she must have perished from the elements or some other ungodly thing. Hiding her tail under fur, she exploited the stupidity of this band. She decided to pose as the “leader” for the next ten years, never taking the mask off before them. Adapting to the ways of the rogues and developing an infatuation with treasure and wealth courtesy of her impoverished state.
All good things ended. The Pigmen Brotherhood was scattered when the group encountered a massive ogre demon by the name of Azoth. Several lives were lost in the process, and the band knew how to survive. Rather than dying to a lost cause, fighting another day and regrouping at a different time was prioritized. After escaping from what would have been certain doom—once again—she searches the lands not only for battle and treasure, but for her long-lost companions.
RP Sample:
Referred by: Genessa/Ruby
Species: Saiyan/Human Hybrid
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Skills & Statistics
Focus Mastery: --
Potential Mastery: Level 3
Ability Mastery: Level 1
Technique Mastery: --
Legendary Mastery: --
Class Mastery: Level 0
Fighting: 15
Energy Control: 40
Reflexes: 15
Resilience: 20
Melee Accuracy: 1d100+15
Ranged Accuracy: 1d100+40
Defense: 50
HP: 50
Ki: 100
DR: -5 (Class Modifier + Resilience Bonus)
Ki Reduction: -2 (Energy Control Bonus)
Class: Mystic (Lv. 0)
Racial Trait: Zenkai
Effort Points: 4482
Power Level: 3665
Zeni: 1000 Zeni
Mastery Points: 0/21
Traits: Efficiency
Class Features:
Class Level | HP Modifier | Accuracy Modifier | Defense Modifier | Damage Modifier | Damage Reduction Modifier |
0 | -20 | +0 | -15 | +0 | +4 |
1 | -20 | +0 | -15 | +0 | +4 |
2 | -15 | +5 | -10 | +2 | +6 |
3 | -15 | +10 | -10 | +2 | +8 |
Lv. 0
Mysticism – You begin every thread with 5 Arcane Points(AP) and may spend them At-Will for the following effects:
-Abjure: You gain one additional Bonus Action on this turn- this Bonus Action may only be used to perform Reactive Defensive Techniques.
-Cleansing: You may remove one non-Special Status Effect from yourself or an ally of your choice.
-Denial: You may select one non-Basic Technique known by an opponent. That opponent may not use the selected Technique for three turns. Only two techniques may be affected by Denial at a time.
-Evoke: You sacrifice 10 HP and restore 10 Ki.
-Restoration: You restore 10 HP to yourself and your allies. You may instead choose to restore 5 HP and 5 Ki to yourself and your allies.
Healer - You begin play with the Utility Technique “Heal” and may use it one additional time per ally. This does not count as your Starting Technique, however it uses a Technique Slot.
Appearance: Spending ten years out in the wilds in harsh living conditions in a band of society’s lowest, Fang lacks a civilized appearance. A body honed by constant efforts towards surviving is sometimes shown off by her tendency to eschew the usage practical clothing in battle. From head to toe, she boasts an athletic physique geared towards agility, wrapped in fair skin. From many conflicts, she has earned umpteen scars along her body varying from minor to huge. While her two-piece battle attire, should she expect it, include black fur leggings, gloves, and her signature boar mantle, she also has the capacity to dress casually. A shoulderless black, white and blue minidress with black leggings and boots, and metallic gloves. Again, the most notable characteristic she has is the huge black pig mask she wears as her mantle, no matter the outfit. To top it off, she is crowned by a long mane of white hair with violet highlights. A prehensile tail denotes half her heritage, strange felid traits denote the Earthling half. She lacks an imposing stature, standing at around 5’3” and weighing 115 lbs.
Personality: When it comes to speaking like a sailor, Fang is an expert on the topic. To say the least, the woman is profane. She spent the better half of her life growing up among cutthroats and delinquents; her mannerisms tend to reflect this development. If she can get away with slights versus the law, she probably will take it up should it not be heinous and or too risky. As someone coming from nothing, and still being dirt poor, Fang is one to spit at the notion of taking money for granted, or believing it isn’t synonymous with happiness.
Her motivations and attitude are defined by her insatiable lust for adventure and exploration of the unknown, to the point where she might undertake tasks that endanger her well-being just to sate her curiosity. She lacks a concrete moral philosophy, maintaining a dutiful agnostic belief system where she confesses to not knowing anything besides the fact she does not know anything. There is compassion within her, and her moral dilemmas can go one way or the other depending on the exact circumstance and whom she might be imposing ill-will onto. At the end of the day, Fang is not on the side of order or chaos; she is on her own side alone. Therefore, she tends to take whatever option caters to her own survival and or those she cares about. For those people, her inclination to being helpful often surfaces.
On top of being infatuated by adventure, Fang tends to be incredibly destructive. In essence, she has a bad temper that has worsened since the massacre of her comrades in arms. Though she deep down is a person with a more avoidant nature when it comes to outright conflict (thanks to her Earthling side), Saiyan blood and circumstance has created a temper infernal enough to push through any inner defense mechanisms. If the door does not work, then she might see it fit to blast through it. Unless she has good reason, she refrains from holding back in combat and ends up leaving ruin in her wake. Fang possesses the capacity to be ruthless if she chooses, and it often comes out during serious fights with lives on the line. In fact, it even bleeds out during regular contests where nothing is at stake.
Some better points of her personality include a surprising amount of creativeness and resourcefulness. Growing to learn how to adapt, use everything to her advantage, and resort to shrewd tactics to get what she desires. She compensates for her shortcomings both outside and inside of battle with cunning. After all, one learns how to make use of as much as they can when their life depends on it.
History: Fang grew up far removed from the concepts of clans and family. What became of her parents after the pair left her in a dingy alleyway belonging to Oolong City was knowledge the woman never became privy to, nor did she care to find out. Despite the cruelty of abandonment, she always was an individual who luck seemed to favour and a thoroughbred survivor. A less than reputable couple found her in a basket in that discreet passage, and decided to keep her. It was a gesture not out of mercy, but out of a lust for profit.
The duo were proprietors of an underground fighting arena, complete with gambling. Their idea was to raise the half-Saiyan to be a fighter and use her as the main attraction in their business of gladiatorial combat. Rather than take care of her themselves for the first years of her life, both chose to hire many different faces to serve as her daily caretakers. From there she was trained as a young girl through brutal means. She faced and was thwarted by many different styles, but had an aptitude for adapting and using cheap tricks to defend herself against impossible odds. These regimes continued until her teenage years.
After making her debut into the arena called the Pig Pen, she gained a small amount of fame for her roguish exploits, brutality, and enthusiasm for battle despite her adolescence. However, her tenure was short in the fighting pits. She caught the interest of an orchestrator banding together a group battling within the confines without choice, who recruited her into the cause through deception. Rather than telling her that it was an escape, he convinced Fang that the group intended to band together and leave for a place with even more opportunities for combat. Following her agreement, the fighters managed to push through security and steal a bus.
For awhile, the escape was going well. Until a mechanical failure happened in the bus and the group plummeted down a small cliff.
Half of the former combatants lost their lives in the fall, but Fang was lucky enough to have her injuries lessened by virtue of falling on another person and their body cushioning the impact for her. Suffering from a broken wrist, she made her way out of the ruined vehicle to realize her new surroundings. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere at the outskirts of a wilderness, every party there lacked means of getting back up the hurdle and heading in the direction of civilization.
No means of communication through technology, the band decided to work together to brave the elements while progressing through them. Always the outsider, Fang watched from a stance of neutrality while the group began to turn on one another over the span of a month courtesy of a shortage of food. Few in the group were seasoned survivalists, and danger lurked around every corner. Starvation was a breeding ground for insanity, and the group eventually began paying homage to a slaughtered boar in hopes of receiving more of nature’s bounty. Twisted luck was on her side again; she returned from foraging berries to find the remaining numbers dead from a fight over food, sparing her from the fatal conflict.
Hollowing out the pig head and wearing it as an accessory, perhaps out of a reminder of who she was and where she came from, she set out further into the unknown. She found an encampment of bandits who were out on an expedition in the Western Lands, and was mistaken for their leader because of her new hat. The leader never returned from a trip, and she wagered she must have perished from the elements or some other ungodly thing. Hiding her tail under fur, she exploited the stupidity of this band. She decided to pose as the “leader” for the next ten years, never taking the mask off before them. Adapting to the ways of the rogues and developing an infatuation with treasure and wealth courtesy of her impoverished state.
All good things ended. The Pigmen Brotherhood was scattered when the group encountered a massive ogre demon by the name of Azoth. Several lives were lost in the process, and the band knew how to survive. Rather than dying to a lost cause, fighting another day and regrouping at a different time was prioritized. After escaping from what would have been certain doom—once again—she searches the lands not only for battle and treasure, but for her long-lost companions.
RP Sample:
The first stage of failure came when one least expected it, and that day was no exception. A simple day without many tasks to fulfill, in what the band thought was the shallower parts of the Western Lands. Setting up a temporary camp with small tents, their stolen acquisitions stowed away inside of them, the Pigmen turned in for the day a quarter after seven. The false leader sat within her personal tent; shoddy but with more space than the rest.
Though the food she ate was bland, she never protested. Everything considered edible by the right of her physiology was scarfed down without complaint. With speed and gusto, she brought the edge of a small pot to her lips to send the plain soup broth down her gullet. The group produced the meal through the boiling of water over a fire with a small animal stewing inside of it. The means of cooking was cheap, easy to pull off, and failed to dip steeply into their resources.
Having food at all was a luxury many overlooked; not that she cared about them or even thought about it. However, quality grub being scarce for all her days limited his perspective to seeing all food as delectable and a means of keeping her heart beating. It made the idea of stealing it from others as saccharine as the remaining tears of meat she ferried into her mouth. The fur-clad young woman’s meal came to an abrupt conclusion when she heard a voice from outside of the poorly lit tent.
“Boss!”
The word alone roused her instincts, and she pulled the pig mask crowning her head back down to conceal her fair features. She owed her survival to her current fake status as the head of a small band of rogues, and she at least had enough reason to factor in the disastrous outcome should she reveal who she was that far down the road.
”What is it? You wanna fight? Huh?!” Fang pushed herself up from her cross-legged position on the ground with steam pluming from the boar’s nostrils, and began motioning for her swords. It was apparent she already prepared herself for a fight, even if the man made no indication of wanting one. Before she could take hold of the pieces of archaic forging, what appeared to be twin katanas, her companion cut in before she completed the gesture.
“No! The boys came back and something’s on their ass! Hurry!” Exclaimed the middle-aged man in return, pointing an accusative finger towards the tent’s opening. Despite his words, Fang completed her task and picked up both unnamed blades. Tilting her head and furrowing her brow behind the mask, she seemed inquisitive about the statement.
”Whaddya mean something’s on his ass? Like a leech? Just rip it off! The hell you need me for?” Hollered Fang in return, flexing and raising her hands while she stomped over to the goon. ”If you don’t wanna fight, then hurry up and get out—“
Another man slammed into the tent’s latest intruder, hit hard enough to propel him like a baseball. A domino effect ensued, both ploughing against Fang and sending her flying against the tent’s furthest wall. The three became a web of limbs and bodies as they tumbled and became wound up by the tent. Confusion struck first, and the thunder of anger boomed afterward as she shoved the pile of people off her.
”WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA—Whoa, what the hell?” There was blood on her hands. Looking down, the man who came crashing into her appeared to have a fatal sum of bones broken in his body. Whatever hit him hard enough to launch him into his tent possessed enough strength to demolish him in one blow, and it sobered Fang for a fleeting moment. Grabbing her blade and shaking off her disoriented stupor, she charged outside and found the camp in chaos.
Residing within the least appealing parts of the lands for the last ten or so years, Fang witnessed a lot of horrors. Shapeshifters, demons, people capable of arcane feats she could not comprehend. However, she was caught off-guard when she witnessed what appeared to be a red, flaming ogre wielding a tetsubo. Smashing their supplies, smashing tents, smashing people as though they were golf balls—she had no idea what was going on. It happened too abruptly, and she felt a surge of adrenaline permeate through her.
She failed to shake the euphoria she felt when she witnessed a battle, however, and she wanted to participate. Fang saw a line of men firing on the demon with blasters, and watched while the corresponding rays of blue light ricocheted off the imposing musculature of the creature. Her eyes caught sight of blades crashing against its flesh, only to leave scratches in their wake. Another swing of its flaming, sophisticated mallet and it sent another five men skating across the dirt like a hockey puck on ice.
Marching over to an individual who seemed the least injured by the hellish development, she grabbed her shoulder and pulled him towards her.
”Tell me what’s going on!” Barked Fang, shaking him as she posed her question.
“T-The boys were out on a hunt, I think they sacked this guy’s hoard and now he wants us all dead!” The man hollered in response. The pig-masked leader shoved him away and turned her attention towards the ogre wreaking havoc on the camp. It would be a misnomer to say it was hers, because she was only pretending to be their leader. It still was laying waste to their means of survival and supplies, and taking out a lot of people who made things happen around the place. Not only did she want to act, but she needed to.
A bead of sweat rolling down her forehead from the conflict, she tightened her grip on her blades. Fang had no qualms with underhanded tactics, thriving on them for as long as she could remember. When it came to brawnier foes, she needed to seize every advantage she could. In a blur of motion, she dashed towards the creature and attempted to attack it from behind. She slammed both blades into its sinewy back. It almost seemed to find purchase, causing twin rivulets of blood to trickle down the being’s back. The damage inflicted was negligible, only serving to infuriate the monster more. Whirling around with enough force to create winds, he swung his heavy armament in the airborne Fang’s direction. The young woman managed to parry with both blades, at a cost.
The force was immense, shattering her swords at the edge. Though the blades failed to sever, it created large gaps on the edges that gave them an improvised serrated property. Before she could celebrate eluding grievous injury, she felt the sting of pain throughout his arms as force transferred through her weapons and into her. Her arms jerked back to mitigate the feeling, and the rest of the blow sent him sailing away and rolling across the ground. She impacted a rock with a resounding thud, cracking the obstruction.
Deep purples and blues dyed her back from the agonizing bruising, and she turned her attention towards the creature who now had its attention glued to her. The others continued their assault to no avail, and the ogre ignored the pellets bouncing off his tough hide. Staring at the being in disbelief behind her horrific head accessory, she struggled back to her feet.
“What do we have here? The leader of the little band who dares pilfer MY treasures?”
A guttural, baritone voice ripped the air asunder. Its footsteps quaked the ground while it walked towards her, just as she steadied her footing once more. From the looks of things, the group was going to have to split up and get out of there. Not that she would do such a thing, not when he had such an appetizing opponent before him.
”Hah! Shut up and fight me!” Fang yelled in response, charging towards the demon once more. It swung with its weapon, but she started to learn its tempo after much observation of it pummeling her comrades. Whenever it slammed into the ground, it left a cloud of dust that she exploited. Attacking with a flurry of slashes from behind the veil of dirt, she started to pepper the fiend with minor lacerations that seemed to pose little threat to its overall integrity. But its jugular was right up against its skin, and she was certain that was the key to victory.
In another flash of speed, she leapt into the air and attempted to swing with both blades.
“HAHA! GOT YOU N—“
Hot. Searing pain tore through her abdomen. Fang thought someone might have put a dozen hot coals inside of her stomach, the heat was that intense. The sound of bones cracking, the feeling of blood surging up from her windpipe and jettisoning onto the being before him. Azoth, as he was called, swung with enough force that the tetsubo smashed into his abdomen and fractured several ribs at once. Ribcage jeopardized, she crashed into the ground. Head colliding at an awkward position, her world flashed before her and everything went black as she was rendered unconscious.
Light poured into her vision. She awoke twelve hours later with a rusted taste in his mouth, a feeling of her body being on fire, and nobody else around her. Once again, she was left in the middle of nowhere. Wincing and surveying her surroundings, she pushed herself up from her position and held onto her side. Both her weapons were damaged beyond recognition, and it looked like she was far enough from the demon that it posed no danger. For now.
Placing her other hand on her boar head, she ground her molars together. She must have regained consciousness a few times over the last while, because she could remember bits and pieces of what happened. A member of the Pigmen carried her there while the others scattered to throw off the being’s ability to track them all. He said he was going to return with aid, but he was long overdue in returning. Though Fang wanted to chase the creature, it was no use.
But unlike when she was abandoned as a child, she now knew these lands well. She knew what to do when stranded, and how to navigate her way back to civilization. Find her comrades, find more glory, find more treasure—
Find Azoth. Pay him back.
That was precisely what Fang set off to do as she set off under the morning light.
Word Count: 1779
Though the food she ate was bland, she never protested. Everything considered edible by the right of her physiology was scarfed down without complaint. With speed and gusto, she brought the edge of a small pot to her lips to send the plain soup broth down her gullet. The group produced the meal through the boiling of water over a fire with a small animal stewing inside of it. The means of cooking was cheap, easy to pull off, and failed to dip steeply into their resources.
Having food at all was a luxury many overlooked; not that she cared about them or even thought about it. However, quality grub being scarce for all her days limited his perspective to seeing all food as delectable and a means of keeping her heart beating. It made the idea of stealing it from others as saccharine as the remaining tears of meat she ferried into her mouth. The fur-clad young woman’s meal came to an abrupt conclusion when she heard a voice from outside of the poorly lit tent.
“Boss!”
The word alone roused her instincts, and she pulled the pig mask crowning her head back down to conceal her fair features. She owed her survival to her current fake status as the head of a small band of rogues, and she at least had enough reason to factor in the disastrous outcome should she reveal who she was that far down the road.
”What is it? You wanna fight? Huh?!” Fang pushed herself up from her cross-legged position on the ground with steam pluming from the boar’s nostrils, and began motioning for her swords. It was apparent she already prepared herself for a fight, even if the man made no indication of wanting one. Before she could take hold of the pieces of archaic forging, what appeared to be twin katanas, her companion cut in before she completed the gesture.
“No! The boys came back and something’s on their ass! Hurry!” Exclaimed the middle-aged man in return, pointing an accusative finger towards the tent’s opening. Despite his words, Fang completed her task and picked up both unnamed blades. Tilting her head and furrowing her brow behind the mask, she seemed inquisitive about the statement.
”Whaddya mean something’s on his ass? Like a leech? Just rip it off! The hell you need me for?” Hollered Fang in return, flexing and raising her hands while she stomped over to the goon. ”If you don’t wanna fight, then hurry up and get out—“
Another man slammed into the tent’s latest intruder, hit hard enough to propel him like a baseball. A domino effect ensued, both ploughing against Fang and sending her flying against the tent’s furthest wall. The three became a web of limbs and bodies as they tumbled and became wound up by the tent. Confusion struck first, and the thunder of anger boomed afterward as she shoved the pile of people off her.
”WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA—Whoa, what the hell?” There was blood on her hands. Looking down, the man who came crashing into her appeared to have a fatal sum of bones broken in his body. Whatever hit him hard enough to launch him into his tent possessed enough strength to demolish him in one blow, and it sobered Fang for a fleeting moment. Grabbing her blade and shaking off her disoriented stupor, she charged outside and found the camp in chaos.
Residing within the least appealing parts of the lands for the last ten or so years, Fang witnessed a lot of horrors. Shapeshifters, demons, people capable of arcane feats she could not comprehend. However, she was caught off-guard when she witnessed what appeared to be a red, flaming ogre wielding a tetsubo. Smashing their supplies, smashing tents, smashing people as though they were golf balls—she had no idea what was going on. It happened too abruptly, and she felt a surge of adrenaline permeate through her.
She failed to shake the euphoria she felt when she witnessed a battle, however, and she wanted to participate. Fang saw a line of men firing on the demon with blasters, and watched while the corresponding rays of blue light ricocheted off the imposing musculature of the creature. Her eyes caught sight of blades crashing against its flesh, only to leave scratches in their wake. Another swing of its flaming, sophisticated mallet and it sent another five men skating across the dirt like a hockey puck on ice.
Marching over to an individual who seemed the least injured by the hellish development, she grabbed her shoulder and pulled him towards her.
”Tell me what’s going on!” Barked Fang, shaking him as she posed her question.
“T-The boys were out on a hunt, I think they sacked this guy’s hoard and now he wants us all dead!” The man hollered in response. The pig-masked leader shoved him away and turned her attention towards the ogre wreaking havoc on the camp. It would be a misnomer to say it was hers, because she was only pretending to be their leader. It still was laying waste to their means of survival and supplies, and taking out a lot of people who made things happen around the place. Not only did she want to act, but she needed to.
A bead of sweat rolling down her forehead from the conflict, she tightened her grip on her blades. Fang had no qualms with underhanded tactics, thriving on them for as long as she could remember. When it came to brawnier foes, she needed to seize every advantage she could. In a blur of motion, she dashed towards the creature and attempted to attack it from behind. She slammed both blades into its sinewy back. It almost seemed to find purchase, causing twin rivulets of blood to trickle down the being’s back. The damage inflicted was negligible, only serving to infuriate the monster more. Whirling around with enough force to create winds, he swung his heavy armament in the airborne Fang’s direction. The young woman managed to parry with both blades, at a cost.
The force was immense, shattering her swords at the edge. Though the blades failed to sever, it created large gaps on the edges that gave them an improvised serrated property. Before she could celebrate eluding grievous injury, she felt the sting of pain throughout his arms as force transferred through her weapons and into her. Her arms jerked back to mitigate the feeling, and the rest of the blow sent him sailing away and rolling across the ground. She impacted a rock with a resounding thud, cracking the obstruction.
Deep purples and blues dyed her back from the agonizing bruising, and she turned her attention towards the creature who now had its attention glued to her. The others continued their assault to no avail, and the ogre ignored the pellets bouncing off his tough hide. Staring at the being in disbelief behind her horrific head accessory, she struggled back to her feet.
“What do we have here? The leader of the little band who dares pilfer MY treasures?”
A guttural, baritone voice ripped the air asunder. Its footsteps quaked the ground while it walked towards her, just as she steadied her footing once more. From the looks of things, the group was going to have to split up and get out of there. Not that she would do such a thing, not when he had such an appetizing opponent before him.
”Hah! Shut up and fight me!” Fang yelled in response, charging towards the demon once more. It swung with its weapon, but she started to learn its tempo after much observation of it pummeling her comrades. Whenever it slammed into the ground, it left a cloud of dust that she exploited. Attacking with a flurry of slashes from behind the veil of dirt, she started to pepper the fiend with minor lacerations that seemed to pose little threat to its overall integrity. But its jugular was right up against its skin, and she was certain that was the key to victory.
In another flash of speed, she leapt into the air and attempted to swing with both blades.
“HAHA! GOT YOU N—“
Hot. Searing pain tore through her abdomen. Fang thought someone might have put a dozen hot coals inside of her stomach, the heat was that intense. The sound of bones cracking, the feeling of blood surging up from her windpipe and jettisoning onto the being before him. Azoth, as he was called, swung with enough force that the tetsubo smashed into his abdomen and fractured several ribs at once. Ribcage jeopardized, she crashed into the ground. Head colliding at an awkward position, her world flashed before her and everything went black as she was rendered unconscious.
Light poured into her vision. She awoke twelve hours later with a rusted taste in his mouth, a feeling of her body being on fire, and nobody else around her. Once again, she was left in the middle of nowhere. Wincing and surveying her surroundings, she pushed herself up from her position and held onto her side. Both her weapons were damaged beyond recognition, and it looked like she was far enough from the demon that it posed no danger. For now.
Placing her other hand on her boar head, she ground her molars together. She must have regained consciousness a few times over the last while, because she could remember bits and pieces of what happened. A member of the Pigmen carried her there while the others scattered to throw off the being’s ability to track them all. He said he was going to return with aid, but he was long overdue in returning. Though Fang wanted to chase the creature, it was no use.
But unlike when she was abandoned as a child, she now knew these lands well. She knew what to do when stranded, and how to navigate her way back to civilization. Find her comrades, find more glory, find more treasure—
Find Azoth. Pay him back.
That was precisely what Fang set off to do as she set off under the morning light.
Word Count: 1779
Referred by: Genessa/Ruby