I challenge Neo.
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Greatluigi
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Greatluigi
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give me food
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Greatluigi
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- Posts: 11608
- Joined: Tue Mar 13, 2001 2:00 am
- Location: Radioactive Grinnieland
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give me food
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- Joined: Thu Nov 15, 2001 2:00 am
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As if a delayed reaction, a look of irritance shone from Neo's once-stony face--but quickly replaced by a familiar veil of monotony, her bent body tilted slightly downwards once more to complete her hunched-over position. The fingers upon her left hand--slightly abused from years of work and practice of twirling and twiddling--flicked and then slowly traced along the edge of her Kendo stick, her nails creating an almost whimsical sound against the soft, dense metal. This wouldn't be difficult; not in the least, that was what she was convinced of.
A miniscule example of her own blood--type B, precisely--created a peculiar doodle onto her forearm, then with a final line dropped onto the dust and rock of the floor.
Neo flinched slightly, a rather unexpected movement at this point in time of battle; her attention had shifted to the few injuries she had attained from the Yoshi that stood behind her, and the pain that came with it had suddenly struck the samurai...like a lightning bolt to an unsuspecting conductor. Her verdant eyes all but narrowed dangerously and viciously--challenging--and her hand slowly raised as if a gesture of a cat ready to lick its wounds, but quickly dropped back to her side defiantly, allowing the blood to dance in little rivulets onto her gloved palm. Yes, this is what they saw; they all saw, at the midst of battle and outside of her everyday comings-and-goings: a girl, no, a young woman ready to take on the world by force if she must...willing to shatter every stereotype, and with a flick of her wrist write the euology of the one whose blood she would splatter next.
Her right foot shifted a little more in front of her left without leaving the ground, and with that, she imperiously refused to push off the ground for safety and was vaulted into the air (looking rather unrealistic, if I do say so myself) and flawlessly landed on the ground--though it didn't exactly FEEL flawless, as her mind had racked for a suitable place to land in midair, but there she was. And it was easy to just charge at him and beat him, mercilessly and senseless, but as a pre-adolescent, she found it absolutely necessary to expose skill to her comrades...and do it with style.
Neo turned to face Dragoshi, brushing a strand of flaming red out of her eyes and tilting back so as to stand up straight and then some; one hand, the one without a weapon in-hand, crossed onto her side and she tipped forward, bending her torso so her hair covered her eyes--yet she could still see her opponent perfectly. And although her optics had yet to be seen (they appeared to emit a sort of neon-green glow), she looked Dragoshi up and down. Tall, lanky, large sword, wings. Of course, the blade was sort of a comeuppance for the apparent lack of physical strength. This only meant that his strikes would be long and powerful, but there would be a short delay between strikes. Her analysis ended as her body slanted back upward, and relaxed into a defensive position. She would lose her grip immediatly after impact, but she could probably sneak in a few extra hits.
There was a lot more to swordplay then hit-and-miss. Several factors included physical strength, ensuring one had enough adrenaline to put forth maximum effort, metal or wood...... Master Tesai Onizuka, or as she called the samurai of the Hiten Shrine, "gramps," had also informed her that there were some times you used a weapon in the style of a sword, and some times you would treat it as a polearm. Strategizing would work well so as to even the odds a bit. Victory! Victory is the only rule, of course.
However, the confident yet cautious Dragoshi caught the switch of pose as the means of conjuring up an attack plan, or at most an impulsive strike--and then, he raised his sword so as to collide with her left shoulderblade. The samurai girl was unconcerned by this, and as if on instinct placed her hand on the arm that swung and vaulted herself into the air at a slight, abnormal angle to Dragoshi's head...and, turning yet another faultless tumble, allowed her leg to swoop out of the 'sault and fly dangerously into the back of Dragoshi's cranium.
With a sickening sound that resonated throughout the dark yet active volcanic walls, Neo became aware that her attack had correctly made impact. She smiled and, with the same foot, pushed off the back of his neck and was launched back into the air, somersaulted once more, and landed crouched on the ground with her sword held to her side and one hand on the ground.
Neo bolted upright, ready for a second round. The attacks had barely left them from their original points, and her adrenaline was raising at a frightening rate--however, she spoke for herself when she said that she was less then enthralled by this particular matchup. Fatigue had barely begun to nip at her energy. Her focus was off by the slightest, as she had officially deemed this fight a piece of cake, but she worked her nonchalance into a neat balance of level-headed thinking and quick reflexes. A spark appeared in her eyes, and the sting in her arm appeared to be replaced by a numbing sensation, as she attempted to push the pain out of her mind.
She charged.
However, it wasn't exactly a head-on type: in split-seconds, yet very noticeable, she would either stop her footwork or extend her steps to hide her rhythm, which, in all reality, was the normal tiptap of her footsteps: onetwoonetwoonetwo. Less then a second between each arch of her legs. She felt her grip fail for a moment, as her stick slithered slightly through the sweat acquired in her palm--not from overwork or stress, but from the sheer heat and density of this thick cavern--and so, the attack she had planned for from the start would not be able to last, as her hold on the sword would not be able to provide equal sustenance. This being so, Neo would have to improvise a counter. Improvisation, or adapting to the current situation, was simple enough. She could easily adjust her footwork and weight to leave no trace of travel in an open, grassy wood, or make her footprints unseen or unheard in a desert. But in a few seconds?
"Well, that's enough," she began in a voice somewhat of a grunt, and as she was a few steps away, she flung the already-loose baton at Dragoshi. Damnit. Neo voiced, her lips moving without sound...yet perhaps her throw was strong, or her aim was true, but anyway, the baton appeared to imbed itself into Dragoshi's ribcage, blood splattering out violently due to the sheer force of the impact. After all, it takes a rather great deal of kickass to impale someone with a blunt object--more or less a metal Kendo stick, but here it was. Taking advantage of Dragoshi's distraction--either from the stick imbedded in his right flank, or the searing pain it emitted from the hole in his flesh--she chose her attack. Neo ran at him and then, using her lack of height to her advantage, knelt slightly in mid-run and skidded under his legs.
"Heave-ho." With a vein bulging slightly in the upper part of her forehead, she turned idly and wrapped one arm around Dragoshi's midsection, ignoring the weapon therein. And then, applying perhaps more force then needed, in a split-second her arm dropped--but not too slow so as to allow him to land back on the floor, but he had been hurled into the air. And then quickly, Neo caught him by two arms, and hurled him across--but not before ripping out violently the stick therein, making a gaping tear in his flesh.
Of course, such a timely attack didn't go without a counter. While she had been busy with this and that, he had allowed his blade to sink into her left shoulderblade easily, like a hot knife through butter. However, before it could sink any further, it was promptly torn from its resting place in her bone and flung at Dragoshi, flying tip-first into his ankle.
Ah, the joys of being merciless.
(And of course, this was the point at which friends and family alike poked at. To quote correctly, they wouldn't stop until Neo B. Genesis was seen happily prancing and skipping through a field of daisies. o_o)
She slowly ran her curled fingers across the slice in her shoulder, a small grin restrained from her face. With a slight prod, her fingers even seemed to move and wiggle the split flesh--a sight, of course, not too pleasant, and she probably couldn't let it sag for more then two or so hours before the tear would become longer; however, the use of her arm returned, and as if just beginning (which, of course, probably was--she wasn't taking this seriously, not remotely), she stretched it sharply. Neo had several peculiar traits: a strange will to ignore pain was one of them; but usually, after the battle at hand, she was often seen licking her wounds. Or yowling in pain as she applied some random sort of quick-healing yet painful remedy. Usually the latter, as she was usually involved in one match after the next.
Neo watched Dragoshi slink onto the floor, fingers twitching and scrambling for something that wasn't there; blood seeping out of the blade imbedded in the back of his ankle, she deemed him lucky the entire foot refused to come off altogether. She scanned him quickly, analyzing the current wounds. A gaping tear in his flank, a foot hanging on by a few mere tendons, a purplish bruise...whereas she had five bruises and a small cut on her arm. More then evening the odds...but...why stop now when you can do more? Damn, being cruel was fun. Occasionally.
Dragoshi slowly stood up, stumbling a little but maintaining an upright pose. Apparently the impact had taken more out of him then she had thought it would; normally, she would've bounded off the wall and kicked some ass, but that was just her aggressive nature acting up. Considering his height, she figured he could get off easily--what, not being fat or something, he could easily absorb the impact and do that stuff skinny people do.
Oh well.
She stood up straight once more and placed the swordless arm on her waist, wrist-first. With her eyes and very expression of face and body language, Neo B. Genesis dared him to advance, or make a move even in the slightest. By her look of nonchalance, she appeared totally unconcerned about her wounds or what would happen to her--though, experimentally, she tended to stretch or exercise the areas where she had been hit thus far. Advancing dangerously towards the dizzy Dragoshi (though her attacks had been nothing to be dizzy at, so it was highly suggested she had made use of her own powers to cause further damage), she viciously made a left-right-up-down combo upon her opponent with her stick, striking him in various places-- upwards at the underside of the jaw, damaging his vocal cords, in his ribcage, etc.
WHAM! HIT! BANG!
That was kind of random, but that's what it sounded like--one hit after the other, each stronger then the last. Until, finally, she rocked back to quickly examine the damage--two broken ribs, from the small crater in his right side--and then, employing the aid of her own wind-and-weather control, she violently clapped her hand onto the side of his neck and, with seemingly no effort whatsoever, sent him hurtling into a rock bed headfirst.
Untaunted and unworried, the proud warrior dramatically stood, allowing her hair to flow gracefully behind her head and onto the arms of the wind--a wind not supposed to be there, perhaps a small dose of what she could control. Her ears and eyes began to net and weave possible ways to make use of the area, and her own adjustments could be made...but they could wait, I suppose. 'Till later, nonetheless, Neo could show mercy. Buuut... She smirked slightly. Yes. She would easily refrain from breaking every bone in his body, until she eventually did so, but even then she wouldn't refrain from killing the creature. Master Onizuka would be a little displeased, but hey, she WAS challenged, right?
She extended one gloved hand towards the small rock bed, and another gust wooshed by, uplifting the rocks shakily. Imperiously, she tilted her head and gave a blank gaze and a dead smile to Dragoshi--the kind a cartoon character would assume after, supposedly, misleading the next character off a cliff and waving good-bye. The rocks waltzed about in midair, then raised themselves about a kilometer above Dragoshi (later leading Neo to ponder: just how far beneath the surface WERE they, anyway?) and violently soaring down, like a penny dropping off the Empire State, and with a sickening squish/splatter imbedded themselves into BSD's flesh.
A miniscule example of her own blood--type B, precisely--created a peculiar doodle onto her forearm, then with a final line dropped onto the dust and rock of the floor.
Neo flinched slightly, a rather unexpected movement at this point in time of battle; her attention had shifted to the few injuries she had attained from the Yoshi that stood behind her, and the pain that came with it had suddenly struck the samurai...like a lightning bolt to an unsuspecting conductor. Her verdant eyes all but narrowed dangerously and viciously--challenging--and her hand slowly raised as if a gesture of a cat ready to lick its wounds, but quickly dropped back to her side defiantly, allowing the blood to dance in little rivulets onto her gloved palm. Yes, this is what they saw; they all saw, at the midst of battle and outside of her everyday comings-and-goings: a girl, no, a young woman ready to take on the world by force if she must...willing to shatter every stereotype, and with a flick of her wrist write the euology of the one whose blood she would splatter next.
Her right foot shifted a little more in front of her left without leaving the ground, and with that, she imperiously refused to push off the ground for safety and was vaulted into the air (looking rather unrealistic, if I do say so myself) and flawlessly landed on the ground--though it didn't exactly FEEL flawless, as her mind had racked for a suitable place to land in midair, but there she was. And it was easy to just charge at him and beat him, mercilessly and senseless, but as a pre-adolescent, she found it absolutely necessary to expose skill to her comrades...and do it with style.
Neo turned to face Dragoshi, brushing a strand of flaming red out of her eyes and tilting back so as to stand up straight and then some; one hand, the one without a weapon in-hand, crossed onto her side and she tipped forward, bending her torso so her hair covered her eyes--yet she could still see her opponent perfectly. And although her optics had yet to be seen (they appeared to emit a sort of neon-green glow), she looked Dragoshi up and down. Tall, lanky, large sword, wings. Of course, the blade was sort of a comeuppance for the apparent lack of physical strength. This only meant that his strikes would be long and powerful, but there would be a short delay between strikes. Her analysis ended as her body slanted back upward, and relaxed into a defensive position. She would lose her grip immediatly after impact, but she could probably sneak in a few extra hits.
There was a lot more to swordplay then hit-and-miss. Several factors included physical strength, ensuring one had enough adrenaline to put forth maximum effort, metal or wood...... Master Tesai Onizuka, or as she called the samurai of the Hiten Shrine, "gramps," had also informed her that there were some times you used a weapon in the style of a sword, and some times you would treat it as a polearm. Strategizing would work well so as to even the odds a bit. Victory! Victory is the only rule, of course.
However, the confident yet cautious Dragoshi caught the switch of pose as the means of conjuring up an attack plan, or at most an impulsive strike--and then, he raised his sword so as to collide with her left shoulderblade. The samurai girl was unconcerned by this, and as if on instinct placed her hand on the arm that swung and vaulted herself into the air at a slight, abnormal angle to Dragoshi's head...and, turning yet another faultless tumble, allowed her leg to swoop out of the 'sault and fly dangerously into the back of Dragoshi's cranium.
With a sickening sound that resonated throughout the dark yet active volcanic walls, Neo became aware that her attack had correctly made impact. She smiled and, with the same foot, pushed off the back of his neck and was launched back into the air, somersaulted once more, and landed crouched on the ground with her sword held to her side and one hand on the ground.
Neo bolted upright, ready for a second round. The attacks had barely left them from their original points, and her adrenaline was raising at a frightening rate--however, she spoke for herself when she said that she was less then enthralled by this particular matchup. Fatigue had barely begun to nip at her energy. Her focus was off by the slightest, as she had officially deemed this fight a piece of cake, but she worked her nonchalance into a neat balance of level-headed thinking and quick reflexes. A spark appeared in her eyes, and the sting in her arm appeared to be replaced by a numbing sensation, as she attempted to push the pain out of her mind.
She charged.
However, it wasn't exactly a head-on type: in split-seconds, yet very noticeable, she would either stop her footwork or extend her steps to hide her rhythm, which, in all reality, was the normal tiptap of her footsteps: onetwoonetwoonetwo. Less then a second between each arch of her legs. She felt her grip fail for a moment, as her stick slithered slightly through the sweat acquired in her palm--not from overwork or stress, but from the sheer heat and density of this thick cavern--and so, the attack she had planned for from the start would not be able to last, as her hold on the sword would not be able to provide equal sustenance. This being so, Neo would have to improvise a counter. Improvisation, or adapting to the current situation, was simple enough. She could easily adjust her footwork and weight to leave no trace of travel in an open, grassy wood, or make her footprints unseen or unheard in a desert. But in a few seconds?
"Well, that's enough," she began in a voice somewhat of a grunt, and as she was a few steps away, she flung the already-loose baton at Dragoshi. Damnit. Neo voiced, her lips moving without sound...yet perhaps her throw was strong, or her aim was true, but anyway, the baton appeared to imbed itself into Dragoshi's ribcage, blood splattering out violently due to the sheer force of the impact. After all, it takes a rather great deal of kickass to impale someone with a blunt object--more or less a metal Kendo stick, but here it was. Taking advantage of Dragoshi's distraction--either from the stick imbedded in his right flank, or the searing pain it emitted from the hole in his flesh--she chose her attack. Neo ran at him and then, using her lack of height to her advantage, knelt slightly in mid-run and skidded under his legs.
"Heave-ho." With a vein bulging slightly in the upper part of her forehead, she turned idly and wrapped one arm around Dragoshi's midsection, ignoring the weapon therein. And then, applying perhaps more force then needed, in a split-second her arm dropped--but not too slow so as to allow him to land back on the floor, but he had been hurled into the air. And then quickly, Neo caught him by two arms, and hurled him across--but not before ripping out violently the stick therein, making a gaping tear in his flesh.
Of course, such a timely attack didn't go without a counter. While she had been busy with this and that, he had allowed his blade to sink into her left shoulderblade easily, like a hot knife through butter. However, before it could sink any further, it was promptly torn from its resting place in her bone and flung at Dragoshi, flying tip-first into his ankle.
Ah, the joys of being merciless.
(And of course, this was the point at which friends and family alike poked at. To quote correctly, they wouldn't stop until Neo B. Genesis was seen happily prancing and skipping through a field of daisies. o_o)
She slowly ran her curled fingers across the slice in her shoulder, a small grin restrained from her face. With a slight prod, her fingers even seemed to move and wiggle the split flesh--a sight, of course, not too pleasant, and she probably couldn't let it sag for more then two or so hours before the tear would become longer; however, the use of her arm returned, and as if just beginning (which, of course, probably was--she wasn't taking this seriously, not remotely), she stretched it sharply. Neo had several peculiar traits: a strange will to ignore pain was one of them; but usually, after the battle at hand, she was often seen licking her wounds. Or yowling in pain as she applied some random sort of quick-healing yet painful remedy. Usually the latter, as she was usually involved in one match after the next.
Neo watched Dragoshi slink onto the floor, fingers twitching and scrambling for something that wasn't there; blood seeping out of the blade imbedded in the back of his ankle, she deemed him lucky the entire foot refused to come off altogether. She scanned him quickly, analyzing the current wounds. A gaping tear in his flank, a foot hanging on by a few mere tendons, a purplish bruise...whereas she had five bruises and a small cut on her arm. More then evening the odds...but...why stop now when you can do more? Damn, being cruel was fun. Occasionally.
Dragoshi slowly stood up, stumbling a little but maintaining an upright pose. Apparently the impact had taken more out of him then she had thought it would; normally, she would've bounded off the wall and kicked some ass, but that was just her aggressive nature acting up. Considering his height, she figured he could get off easily--what, not being fat or something, he could easily absorb the impact and do that stuff skinny people do.
Oh well.
She stood up straight once more and placed the swordless arm on her waist, wrist-first. With her eyes and very expression of face and body language, Neo B. Genesis dared him to advance, or make a move even in the slightest. By her look of nonchalance, she appeared totally unconcerned about her wounds or what would happen to her--though, experimentally, she tended to stretch or exercise the areas where she had been hit thus far. Advancing dangerously towards the dizzy Dragoshi (though her attacks had been nothing to be dizzy at, so it was highly suggested she had made use of her own powers to cause further damage), she viciously made a left-right-up-down combo upon her opponent with her stick, striking him in various places-- upwards at the underside of the jaw, damaging his vocal cords, in his ribcage, etc.
WHAM! HIT! BANG!
That was kind of random, but that's what it sounded like--one hit after the other, each stronger then the last. Until, finally, she rocked back to quickly examine the damage--two broken ribs, from the small crater in his right side--and then, employing the aid of her own wind-and-weather control, she violently clapped her hand onto the side of his neck and, with seemingly no effort whatsoever, sent him hurtling into a rock bed headfirst.
Untaunted and unworried, the proud warrior dramatically stood, allowing her hair to flow gracefully behind her head and onto the arms of the wind--a wind not supposed to be there, perhaps a small dose of what she could control. Her ears and eyes began to net and weave possible ways to make use of the area, and her own adjustments could be made...but they could wait, I suppose. 'Till later, nonetheless, Neo could show mercy. Buuut... She smirked slightly. Yes. She would easily refrain from breaking every bone in his body, until she eventually did so, but even then she wouldn't refrain from killing the creature. Master Onizuka would be a little displeased, but hey, she WAS challenged, right?
She extended one gloved hand towards the small rock bed, and another gust wooshed by, uplifting the rocks shakily. Imperiously, she tilted her head and gave a blank gaze and a dead smile to Dragoshi--the kind a cartoon character would assume after, supposedly, misleading the next character off a cliff and waving good-bye. The rocks waltzed about in midair, then raised themselves about a kilometer above Dragoshi (later leading Neo to ponder: just how far beneath the surface WERE they, anyway?) and violently soaring down, like a penny dropping off the Empire State, and with a sickening squish/splatter imbedded themselves into BSD's flesh.
<i>relax, we understand j00</i>
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give me food
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