Re: Battle Royale! (Game Start!) Round 3: Sanctuary/Ark
11-24-2009, 09:47 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
Whit cursed. He shouldn't have shot the second time, it was a give away. He aimed his godgun down, but paused. Zeke's cold gaze was on him... But his blades were too short to cut deep, and didn't have the force to cut hard. He was futily hacking away for a reason... Of course. If he got any closer, he'd be too close to dodge the six foot wave. But, if Whit shot at him with this angle, he'd bring down the tree. He was better off not shooting him. Still, he wasn't happy playing the defensive, being forced to hold. Nothing good ever came of letting time go by. The fire was already raging nearby...
Whit jumped down.
it confused Zeke, for an instant, to see Whit falling at him, but he had been ready for anything. He contorted his body lower... And in one continuous motion, flipped backwards. The wave smashed the ground he was an instant ago. He met Whit's eyes, as the two of them moved through the air. What was he thinking? Whit couldn't win the fight, and had already used his trump. Within the three seconds, he'd be dead. Zeke ignored the stray thought. It was pointless to waste time empathizing with his opponent. All he needed was the sharpness of mind and body that he had honed for years. An instant later, his feet touched a branch, and Whit's touched the ground. Zeke kicked off the branch, and prepared his arms for slicing flesh. However, a slight glimmer in Whit's hand distracted him. It wasn't the godgun... No, it was- he brought his arms up, and deflected the bullet. It was Whit's pistol. Zeke suddenly remember this happening before, in the Hoodoo. His momentum carried him right in front of Whit. Another bullet collided with his gauntlets, but was closer to his body. Whit was getting good at shooting, so quickly! He was very talented. Zeke didn't care, though. Talent meant nothing in the face of skill and effort. He thrusted himself low to the ground, shot his footblade out and swept for Whit's legs... Only they weren't there. Whit had hopped over his leg. A good move, Zeke acknowledged, but it didn't help him. Zeke's torso sprang forward. He first swung his left arm up, knocking Whit's godgun out of his grip. The three seconds had nearly passed. Whit's other hand was too high up to aim at Zeke. They met eyes again. Whit still had that indefinite look, a half smile, and his eyebrows raised. Zeke smiled. That face would be gone in a second... He thrust his right arm at Whit's heart.
What was Whit thinking? He himself wasn't sure. It was a mix of apprehension, fear and... Interest. He was so close to death... He had let himself go lose automatically, but his eyes remained sharp. His godgun was knocked away. A fist, a blade, shot towards him. Zeke's smile... Whit suddenly tightened his body, began twisting his torso, and swung his empty right hand forward- a counterpunch. Still, Zeke was faster, and his blade was longer. Whit realized that he had reached the limit of his ability- he couldn't save himself... Purely on his own ablities. Zeke's blade met Whit's jacket. It slowed the weapon slightly, and then allowed the blade to slip through- allowing it to meet a solid resistance.
*Ssktch*
Zeke's blade pushed against the solid, about to piercing it. Then, the blade slid off to the side. Whit had fully twisted out of the way in the moment the blade was halted. As if in triumph, Whit's counterpunch made full contact with Zeke's face.
Zeke hated it. He could accept being hit, but he couldn't stand that it was a blow from Whit. Still, he wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He moved with the blow, minimalizing damage, spun half a step, then dashed away. A bullet wizzed by his head. Zeke had lost his momentum, and he wasn't going to be a fool and stay wide open for a bullet. He zigzaged, and ducked behind a tree. He noticed Whit had stopped shooting, and dove to the side. A gravity wave smashed through the tree. As he moved, Zeke realized that Whit was almost unapproachable now- his godgun could clear any cover, and his pistol defended him between shots. Zeke had no choice but to retreat from Whit's range.
As he watched Zeke's retreating form for the second time today, he put down his arms and held his side. Zeke's blow had still cut him.
"augh... Well, it's not deep. That's good. Even better though, Im alive... Although that's to be expected."
The only quesion was why? Why was he alive? He checked inside his jacket, over his chest.
"ah."
He drew out Itzal's knife, which was hanging on a strap over his heart. He smiled. Fate was good to him.
Whit cursed. He shouldn't have shot the second time, it was a give away. He aimed his godgun down, but paused. Zeke's cold gaze was on him... But his blades were too short to cut deep, and didn't have the force to cut hard. He was futily hacking away for a reason... Of course. If he got any closer, he'd be too close to dodge the six foot wave. But, if Whit shot at him with this angle, he'd bring down the tree. He was better off not shooting him. Still, he wasn't happy playing the defensive, being forced to hold. Nothing good ever came of letting time go by. The fire was already raging nearby...
Whit jumped down.
it confused Zeke, for an instant, to see Whit falling at him, but he had been ready for anything. He contorted his body lower... And in one continuous motion, flipped backwards. The wave smashed the ground he was an instant ago. He met Whit's eyes, as the two of them moved through the air. What was he thinking? Whit couldn't win the fight, and had already used his trump. Within the three seconds, he'd be dead. Zeke ignored the stray thought. It was pointless to waste time empathizing with his opponent. All he needed was the sharpness of mind and body that he had honed for years. An instant later, his feet touched a branch, and Whit's touched the ground. Zeke kicked off the branch, and prepared his arms for slicing flesh. However, a slight glimmer in Whit's hand distracted him. It wasn't the godgun... No, it was- he brought his arms up, and deflected the bullet. It was Whit's pistol. Zeke suddenly remember this happening before, in the Hoodoo. His momentum carried him right in front of Whit. Another bullet collided with his gauntlets, but was closer to his body. Whit was getting good at shooting, so quickly! He was very talented. Zeke didn't care, though. Talent meant nothing in the face of skill and effort. He thrusted himself low to the ground, shot his footblade out and swept for Whit's legs... Only they weren't there. Whit had hopped over his leg. A good move, Zeke acknowledged, but it didn't help him. Zeke's torso sprang forward. He first swung his left arm up, knocking Whit's godgun out of his grip. The three seconds had nearly passed. Whit's other hand was too high up to aim at Zeke. They met eyes again. Whit still had that indefinite look, a half smile, and his eyebrows raised. Zeke smiled. That face would be gone in a second... He thrust his right arm at Whit's heart.
What was Whit thinking? He himself wasn't sure. It was a mix of apprehension, fear and... Interest. He was so close to death... He had let himself go lose automatically, but his eyes remained sharp. His godgun was knocked away. A fist, a blade, shot towards him. Zeke's smile... Whit suddenly tightened his body, began twisting his torso, and swung his empty right hand forward- a counterpunch. Still, Zeke was faster, and his blade was longer. Whit realized that he had reached the limit of his ability- he couldn't save himself... Purely on his own ablities. Zeke's blade met Whit's jacket. It slowed the weapon slightly, and then allowed the blade to slip through- allowing it to meet a solid resistance.
*Ssktch*
Zeke's blade pushed against the solid, about to piercing it. Then, the blade slid off to the side. Whit had fully twisted out of the way in the moment the blade was halted. As if in triumph, Whit's counterpunch made full contact with Zeke's face.
Zeke hated it. He could accept being hit, but he couldn't stand that it was a blow from Whit. Still, he wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He moved with the blow, minimalizing damage, spun half a step, then dashed away. A bullet wizzed by his head. Zeke had lost his momentum, and he wasn't going to be a fool and stay wide open for a bullet. He zigzaged, and ducked behind a tree. He noticed Whit had stopped shooting, and dove to the side. A gravity wave smashed through the tree. As he moved, Zeke realized that Whit was almost unapproachable now- his godgun could clear any cover, and his pistol defended him between shots. Zeke had no choice but to retreat from Whit's range.
As he watched Zeke's retreating form for the second time today, he put down his arms and held his side. Zeke's blow had still cut him.
"augh... Well, it's not deep. That's good. Even better though, Im alive... Although that's to be expected."
The only quesion was why? Why was he alive? He checked inside his jacket, over his chest.
"ah."
He drew out Itzal's knife, which was hanging on a strap over his heart. He smiled. Fate was good to him.