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originally posted in:The New Dojo
10/30/2016 1:36:16 AM
298
[b][u]The Wanderer | Dojo Gates[/u][/b]
[i]Alister...
Alister.
Alister!
ALISTER![/i]
The last thing he remembered was seeing the boy he sought to protect being smashed brutally in the back of the head by a sword's pommel.
And then the world was set on fire.
...
With a gasp, the man wakes up spread-eagle outside the Dojo Gates. A heartbeat after, he rolls forward to his feet and looks around, one hand on the mechanical katana sheathe at his waist.
"ALISTER!"
The man's apparel was quite peculiar. A long black leather overcoat draped past his knees, with ceramic shoulder pauldrons and joint guards placed upon the coat. At his waist was an Oriental scabbard modified by machinery near the upper half, holding such things as a napalm barrel and a gun trigger. The two other items of note were the ornately engraved Mateba revolver and a runic gas mask - all equipment strangely reminiscent of... [i]him.[/i]
He looked around frantically, hazel eyes wild as sweat dripped down his weathered Asian skin. Long, black hair was matted wildly in a mess under a wide-brimmed hat of the same colour.
His age was indeterminate, possibly around mid-thirties to early forties. But all of his features made him an oddly similar, yet older, version of the Old Lieutenant.
But it couldn't possibly be him... Could it?
Silence. He looked at the large gates of the Dojo, easing his grip out of slight awe and fear.
"Are these the Gates of Hell?... No, no get a hold of yourself. Believe in monsters, not the fantasies of men. Find him."
He finally let go of his sheathed blade's handle. His coat sleeves were rolled up, revealing lean arms riddled with slashes and bullet holes.
The smell of brimstone wafted through the air.
Blue fire sprang from each wound, searing each laceration and bullet hole shut with a sickening smell. The man rolled down his sleeves as he looked around for anyone in sight. The madness in his eyes faded to a simmering charcoal of composure, a flame hidden amidst the ashen facade of calmness.
The sickening scent stopped.
It couldn't possibly be him...
[i]Could it?[/i]
[spoiler]Open to all :)[/spoiler]
English
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Edited by Devious_Melons: 10/30/2016 6:52:52 PMCall me Lego, this is the Dojo. One of the best institutions for fighting in the galaxy, who are you? [spoiler]brown hair and eyes, has a very clean look. His suit looks a lot like the VOG titan armour.[/spoiler]
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[i]High-tech armour, clean look. Possibly Iconoclast.[/i] "That armour of yours... Did the Iconoclast send you? Only a merc funded by them could afford such a thing." [i]The Dojo? Where on Mars would that be?[/i]
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[b]holds up a holographic galactic map[/b] Its on Tatakai, its around there. [b]points to the small red blur [/b]
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[i]Holograms? Things only the Iconoclast could have. And this man seems awfully suspicious.[/i] "I shall humour you then. Shall you allow me through these gates? I am in search for a boy, and we're on the run from a mercenary company." [i]That you might be funded by,[/i] the man thinks silently to himself. "I need to get through. Of course if you are a peaceful man, you would oblige me without any problem, correct?" The man's words are laced with urgency: he needed to find that boy.
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What the -blam!- are you on? I'm not a bloody merc, and what are you even taking about?
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"I'm looking for a boy and I need to get in to look for him," the man retorts in a much more simpler vocabulary. Obviously this man did not know of the Iconoclast or their operations so this must be a dream. He just had to find the way out.
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[spoiler]I would say "Yay!!! You're back!!!" And all that, but you got bored didn't you?[/spoiler] "Fascinating. Truly, fascinating." *A dark-haired woman sits sideways on the trunk of a tree, watching the man. An aura of darkness seems to cloak her...*
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The man noticed this aura of darkness and immediately went through his standard analysis. [i]Abbatial? Possibly. Only they could create a relic that harbours such... Dark radiance. Only one way to make sure.[/i] He jumps into a unique fighting stance: legs spread apart in a fencer's gait and hands poised over his waisted armaments like a desperado ready for a quick draw. "Are you with the Abbatial? I sense something... Dark. No matter. Tell me where the boy is and there will be no further bloodshed. But Mark my words, if you do not hand me the boy unharmed or anytime soon, blood will pour down the streets and Auburn Steppes will be a laughable matter compared to -" He paused, catching himself. The fire in his eyes died a bit as he regained his composure. "My pardon. Who are you and where am I?"
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"Who I am is subjective really, but most call me Shadow. Where you are is merely a matter of fact. Welcome to the Dojo. As for your threat.... Well, it will not be my blood that will flow." *She chuckles lowly, the sound menacing even without effort.* "Now, as for your obvious question. No, I know not of the child you are so protective of. If I could pity those who dare hold him from you, I would. Younglings are sacred, especially to me." *She leans downwards, falling off the trunk to land on her feet. Walking over to the man, she stops a few feet away from him* "Now, name yourself and your purpose."
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He holds his position and never breaks eye contact with Shadow despite her menacing tone. He would not be deterred by anyone - be it man or monster. So too the rule applied with strangers like the lady in front of him. "I mean no threat to you, Shadow. I merely mistook you for... something else. You give off a feeling that is all too familiar from where I come from," he states. "That being said, my name is Lucien Farcón. Would you mind telling me what part of Olympus Island I'm in? This area looks too green so to speak to be on the outside. A preserved bio-dome perhaps? Ah, no matter. I'm looking for a boy, Shadow. About 15-16, skin like mine with dark brown hair and eyes."
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"I am afraid Lucien, that you are farther away than you think. I have not seen the child you speak of, though it pains me to say." *She turns and begins to walk towards the gate, motioning over he shoulder for him to follow* "However, this is a place of learning, exploring, and training. You might find someone who knows how to find the child here. Welcome, Farcón, to the Dojo." *The gates slowly rumble open, and Shadow turns to face him* "This is a place of warriors, first and foremost. If you ask, I am sure that there will be those who will leap to your aid." *She turns to face him again, standing in the gateway* "Please, do come in."
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"My thanks, Shadow." The man seemed much more calmer now, seeing Shadow's cooperation. He was willing to overlook any exuding aura that related to the Abbatial from his home. He follows her through the gates and eases up his posture, still analyzing the entire area instinctively, as well as scanning Shadow for any visible weapons on her person. It wasn't an action of hostility: it was a silent precaution of standard. "A place of learning you say? So what are you all? Warriors? Hunters?" The way Shadow described these people sounded similar to the warrior hunter culture of the Tribals back in his home.
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*The woman wore an odd assortment of equipment. Shadow is clad in a suit with plates of what looked to be like a dark steel, but yet left her unhindered in movement. On her head rested a sombrero, which had appeared somehow when Lucian had looked away from her. On her waist rested a belt with two holsters holding two different revolvers. One was large and quite bulky, having two barrels. The other was oddly painted the colors of the rainbow. Lucian could see, however, that she had several knives within easy access on her person, under her armor. She grinned as she felt his eyes on her, knowing what he was doing.* "The Dojo was built by a great warrior to be a place for other warriors to gather. Wether it be to train, learn, or relax from the horrors of the outside world. A safe haven, if you will."
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"Safe haven for fighting? Seems like more of an arena to me." [i]A highly glorified and advanced arena, that is.[/i] Lucien took a closer look at her gear. A double-barrelled revolver? That seemed quite out of place in such an environment until Lucien remembered some old Modernistic Renaissance-Era weapon blueprints that some of the Tribal gunsmiths made their weapons after. The double-barrelled revolver looked oddly similar to them. "That revolver of yours - the one with two barrels. Where did you acquire it?"
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"A gift. A long time ago..." *She stares off into the distance before chuckling* "Well, you are close with the arena analogy. We actually do have an arena here, but we rarely use it."
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[spoiler]It warms my heart to see that you've kept the Markmaker revolver :)[/spoiler] "So what do you people do then? Challenge each other in the streets?" he says with a chuckle. "You remind me of my former people back in my home. Tribals, they were called - but not like the traditional Old-Earth type. Many ethnicities were mixed within their culture, but all were born under the Tribal name, committed to hunting the Infected abominations of my world. Public challenges weren't too odd at all. It was not a test of who was stronger, but mutual honing for each others' skills. I sense somewhat of a similarity here."
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((Cowboy, General or Stoner. Who do you want to interact with?))
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((Oh shit I only saw this now.)) ((Surprise me.))
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((Cowboy then, he's the only one who's got knowledge about the guy)) [i]"Oh this has got to be a -blam!-in' joke..." He who spoke had recognized the flames of cobalt shade, though he didn't quite know who it was that casted such a spell of power, and instead he had a guess. Standing at a fair ten feet tall and fifteen feet away from the awakening man was a man, clad in a suit of olive green armour with a long brown duster over the suit, the hands being a shade of red on the palms and white on the fingers, which in turn matched the shade of his red eyed helmet under the brown cowboy's hat. He looked more akin to a vaquero however, due to the four revolvers all along his chest and the massive revolver rifle on his back. plus the plasma lasso he carried. His right arm was a strange one in the gear as a set of five canisters adorned it, each carrying a 40mm HE grenade. "If that -blam!-in' cult followed me from the Twilight, I will hunt them the -blam!- down!" He shouted, as the cowboy approached the man with a thunderous echo from the hundreds of pounds that comprised his weight in the suit. [/i]
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Upon hearing the man shouting, the stranger took upon a strange stance: he spaced his legs out in the fashion of a master fencer but poised his arms over his waisted armaments like a desperado samurai, ready to draw either firearm or sword. "Cult? I know not of what you speak of." The man began to a analyze every component of the cowboy. [i]Firearms - lots of them. Duster looks somewhat akin to Tribal design. Enough weapons and armour to be company-funded... Possibly Iconoclast.[/i] "Who are you and where am I?" The man's eyes burnt with determination and panic like a cornered animal.
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[i]"The Dojo of Tatakai, though you likely know where that is because of the fire. Only one group I've ever known has had that shit, and they prayed to a Lieutenant of this place." If JT wasn't making it obvious enough, he didn't think highly of cultists who prayed to a mortal man. While he did have respect for all people, there were a few that got less than he would give many. "As for me? I'm a Lieutenant, JT. Who the hell are you?"[/i]
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Taken aback by the man's hostility, the stranger maintains his unique stance and speaks. "My name is Lucien Farcòn. I have no idea what you're talking about, Iconoclast merc. Don't try to think you can fool me. Give me back the boy and we can prevent further bloodshed." This man would not tolerate any distractions. Lieutenants? Tatakai? He was all new to the concept, but that would not deter him. Fire burnt in the man's eyes as he saw JT's resolve: this would most likely end with blood.
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[i]"Don't know what the -blam!- an Iconoclast is, now stand down, 'fore I gotta put twenty four in that cranium of yours." That was all the cowboy would say. He was technically a mercenary in some regard, yes, but he had no idea what an Iconoclast was. Funny, he's been all over but there's some things even he didn't know. [/i]
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"I'll stand down when you stand down, cowboy. I don't know where I am or why, but I would prefer not to resort to violence. Please, I'm just looking for a boy." The man stated his purpose and mission but stood stalwart in his stance. He would find Alister, and no gunslinger cyborg would stand in his way. [i]He could be dead. No, no don't think like that. He can't be dead. They need him alive to find you.[/i] Fire ignited in the stranger's eyes as the air became scented with brimstone once more, almost as if mirroring the personal Hell behind the man's hazel eyes.
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[i]That boy remark... Hit something, within the cowboy, though not known to all that many aside from him, maybe three people understood it for him. Either way, he seemed to be less on edge and calmer as he spoke, his tone slightly quieter though still a tone that was loud. "Who're you after?"[/i]
