the sun may never rise again } excalibros vs 2 yetis

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

Complaints intertwine with the laughter; Asha and Desimae do not appreciate my joking around. That’s the best I can do though, help heighten the morale. After all we are facing two superior beasts, I at least need to try and make it less terrifying that what it is. The past couple of days, I have lived in the shade of my depression but something has mixed in with that and now a light is slowly flickering in the darkness. I doubt the flickering will get fixed, light will not ignite the entirety of the darkness, the likelihood is that the light will be switched off for an eternity and that could be any time soon.

I can remember the days back home, the joyful days. Days where there were no jobs, just cheerful moments where the family and men gathered in celebration and festivity. The big table back home filled to the brim, some poor souls had to be separated on the smaller table while others had to be seated on stools or cushions due to the lack of chairs. A variety of chuckles used to erupt around the table, triggered by either jokes or the torment of some vulnerable man who likely messed up the previous day. Intoxicated men with smiles on their faces, their true selves masked by the ecstasy of bliss on their faces. Those are the days that I miss, those are the days that will stick in my memory to the very end, those are the days that are going to help me power on through this fight and many more to come.

I grip tightly to the glaive in my left hand, hoping that I don’t lose anymore digits; I take a swing to the finger stealing brute. The blade digs deep into the creature’s leg, blood quickly bursting from the wound and staining the glaive. I have drawn so much blood with this weapon; it is a surprise that I can still see the shine on the surface of it. My reflection staring back at me, while blood is splattered across it. It is the true me. The killer, Jenoah the killer. The Rasoio prodigy who will help continue with the family business and lineage. Jenoah Rasoio, the boy who has direction and promise. Most of that is a lie. I haven’t found my true destiny yet but the title of the killer, is slowly becoming the true reality. I don’t have control over it and I’ll never be able to shake it off me. I have killed and there is nothing that I can do about it. It is going to be one burden that follows me to the grave and I still have time to add more kills to the tally.

"It's not even funny, but it's so fucking good."

It comes as a surprise that Asha actually appreciates the jokes that are shared between me and Mitchell, so there is some humanity hidden within that façade of a monster.

"Will you two stop fucking around with those damn jokes.”

Now that doesn’t come as a surprise from Desimae.
The creature lashes out at me again, gashing my stomach with its force, my newly obtained white shirt already torn and blood stained. I look down to the wound, the blood quickly soaking into the ivory shirt. I bet I look half dead. Blood pours from my hand which I hold up to shoulder height and now my torso is coated in it. There is literally no escape from the red substance, not in this hell hole anyway.

”The jokes are on you beasts, you won’t last long enough to hear my best joke!” I highly doubt that they understand but teasing the furry creatures just adds to the fun that I have already conjured up from my puns.

I force my left hand to get back to work, hoping that I can finally end this bloodbath of a fight.

Attacks Ennis | Glaive

ji0lyg|kglaive

13061 -- Block -- 0.0 damage


Accuracy Re-roll

glaive

13026 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage

glaive�glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

Immortality; another fragment of the ravings of a madman.

These beasts are an extension of the Capitol's immortality. The Capitol's genetic engineering takes cuts after cuts, the brunt of a mad career's rage, the desperation of a wounded boy's glaive and the backing of his false god. Shades of black marring their grey coats, not once do they flinch. "Only room... for... one monster." Heavy words forced between pants but that doesn't make the fire in the pit of my stomach any less bright.

A flash of white and a black flower blooms across Jenoah's midsection. Two blinks and black vines spring from Desimae's flesh, intertwining and tightening around her hip and calf like the fingers of two lovers. One blink and her shin guards are in tatters across the ground, fragments of steel and gifts - useless now. Jenoah begins yelling at it about never hearing its best joke and I begin to question if he means because we'll kill it soon or if it'll kill him soon.

The rage of a mad career and the desperation of a maimed boy backed by his false god; it doesn't look any closer to falling than it did two minutes ago.

I'm beginning to think they're immortal.

('Do you really think you're fast enough to dodge death, Asha?'

'Maybe.'

'You're crazy.')

Ravings of a madman, the defective weapon of no use to anyone but himself. I would've walked on the edge of the scythe if it meant I could never slip on the edge. They told me there was nothing I could do if an axe split my skull in half or I succumed to an ever growing sickness in my lungs - no one was fast enough to dodge the reaper's scythe.

A thought cast to Mitchell Laws, proud thief from the depths of District Twelve. But does he have the courage to slip his greedy fingers into the robe of death itself, silver scythe and all. Grey hair barely distinguishable from the blackened fur of the beasts before us, fragile skin protects hands untouched by red, he spoke with such a confidence in training. Still, I do not even remember the color of his eyes.

But he's bleeding, I know that.

And he's filled with rage, I feel that.

('What will you do when a Capitol's mutation wants to devour you then, Asha?'

'I'll spit in its face, I won't be scared.'

'Madman, you are.')

But what do I do when I'm faced with an extension of the immortality of the Capitol's sadism and all? I'm mad enough to happily dance on the edge of the scythe, but I have no plan of action if I am to slip and cut myself on the blade.

I turn to Jenoah and find himself in the same desperate predicament. Faced by the immortality of science, he swings his glaive and cuts into the beast's chest but it lacks the depth and the bravado to tear the sinew of immortality. "We're going to need more than that!" I call to him; there will be no white flag waved today.

I look to Desimae and Mitchell. "We're all going to need more than that!"

With a wry smile I balance my sword in my good hand.

('You're not immortal, Asha.'

'I could be, you never know.'

'All men die, there's no avoiding it.'

'If there's a will then there's a way.)

Immortality; eternal life reduced to the utter ravings of a madman.

With a cry, I lunge, immortality in sight.

If there's a will there's a way - those aren't the ravings of a madman, I promise.

[Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #1 (Ennis), Falchion]

f|LgrOgGsword

[1152 -- Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[grim.]

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I sense a sort of dreary energy among my three boys. Our spirits beginning to dwindle under the beasts unwillingness to fall. They had almost seemed unscathed by our multiple attempts to murder them. They seemed to feel no pain and no fear, but I had begun to forget that they were not living. They were simply a genetic code made up by a group of scientists, they had no meaning. I watch as Mitchell slides his sword down on the large beasts back, his skin hardly breaking, though a sense of agitation over took the creature. Where had the boys I once knew gone? Here we were thrashing at these unreal monstrosities, and we looked so frail, so useless. "Rip these bastards apart, they are nothing more then a genetically mutated code." I scream in the direction of my boys. I knew that each of them possessed double the amount of strength in these creatures, we would survive, we had to survive. As the numbers of the arena continue to diminish, I knew that these few days will soon become short lived. I will lose them, my family of the arena. I could hear a cannon, a cannon off in the distance, but there was no way of knowing who could have possibly fallen. But even then I am sure to scan each and ever one of my boys faces, ensuring that they are not the victim of that cannon.

I first look to Asha, his sharp jaw and sandy hair all jumbled. It was the first time I had noticed how weathered the boy was becoming. He was living though, and that was all I needed to know. I look to Jenoah next, his hands gripped onto his glaive, an odd sense of fearlessness radiating form his body. But again he was living, and that was my only worry. My face shifts to Mitchell, his large frame still next to mine. He always seemed to remain close to me, I flocked to him also because I knew that he understood. Of course Asha could never understand the true destruction that the Capitol causes each and every day. He was brought up in riches and glory, never a hungry day, and though Jenoah had struggled also, he to would never understand the true extent of the Capitols torture. Mitchell I knew had it just as bad if not worse then I did. Many sleepless nights, stomachs aching for just a handful of food. He knew that we watched death each and every day, we watched starving bodies shrivel into the streets. We watched orphaned children turn to nothing but ash. Death was not new to either of us, and neither was this sense of starvation that seemed to overtake us all.

I look up to the beast still in hand, his ivory fur now beginning to stain red. His body riddled with various scratches and missing chunks. "Hey meathead! Red looks good on you!" I shout. I pull my final knife to my ear, the heat of the blade kissing the lobe of my ear. I here the want for blood, the little echo that it seemed to hiss into my ear. It lusted for this beasts end, it wanted to watch its monstrous body fall. It wanted this beast to suffer, just as I do. I wanted to watch its throat gush with crimson, he would no longer be allowed to hurt my boys. They had been through enough, and I had been through enough. I beg that this knife show me mercy, destroy the Capitols creation, destroy every ounce of them. They have, and will continue to do the same to us. It may only be a mini victory, but knowing I am destroying even the tiniest piece of the Capitol brings a wicked smile to my lips. I whirl the knife through the air, and I close my eyes awaiting its fate.

[attr="class","DesiName"]

Desi.

Gorgeous Table by Anzie



Desi attacks Yeti #2 Jack // Throwing Knife

1gyBRbhkthrowing knife
{miss}

throwing knife

[Tom]

I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH, BUT NOT THIS TIME mitchell laws YOUR HOPE IS GONE, AND SO IS MINE

"Red looks good on you." That's all he had heard from Desimae's voice. Her short red hair blowing gently within the breeze of the world that was trying to kill them. You're a monster. Kill it. He wasn't a monster, he wouldn't become one until he killed. Monsters were born once the blood of something was upon your hands and Mitchell's were clean of the crimson liquid. Mud had been the only thing that rested upon his hands from the day before, no blood. Mordecai was not his burden, but he still created the burden himself. The weight of Mordecai Wu rested upon his chest, air cut off from the world, only a struggle to try and breathe the precious oxygen that he needed to be able to live. Suffocation was taking him and drowning him in burdens he didn't have to carry. Myara Lowe. Mordecai Wu. They weren't his problems, only his pathetic weakness was his burden. Hesitation in every move that he's made. Mitchell Laws was a smart man, but smart men don't win, only the strong do. As he watches his allies, he knows their strong. Desimae may have not ended a man's life, but her fiery attitude could burn a man alive. That short red hair works well with how he perceived her. A flame that you can trust, until it burns out or burns yourself. Mitchell Laws was growing fond of her, too fond if he was being truthful. Strength was something that they all had, but Mitchell, Asha's was his ferocity. The man could strike down a person with only his fists, Joselle had been no match against the monster that the Lumiere was. Crazy and ferocious, Asha Lumiere was a killer at heart. There was only one stronger than them all. Jenoah Rasoio, the killer of two. The man who seemed normal and even calmer than most, but could kill within seconds. Mordecai Wu and Myara Lowe didn't know what had hit them, until Jenoah did. They were strong, but Mitchell wasn't. Weaknesses shined through his body like he was a piece of glass. Glass that could shatter at any minute. Mitchell had shattered once, but this was the last time. Shattering glass could kill a man if it hit the right spots. Mitchell can see the way that the hairy monster reminds him of Jack. Jack, his brother who had taken Mitchell under his wing and corrupted him. The boy who sent a poison through his body that could never leave Mitchell. A poison filled with the liquid of greed. Greedy of riches and glory. Greed that he wanted it all. The games were just that. A game of greed where the winner wins it all, fame, fortune, and much more. There was a price though, the price was life or death and the suffering tributes had to endure. Mitchell wanted it all, but he wasn't going to get it all, unless he became a monster like the rest of them had. IF only he could become strong like the hairy beast in front of him. Mitchell, you could've died. Mitchell, I was worried about you. His mother and brother's words echo in his head as he remembers coming home with the lashings. His mother scolding him and yet getting the town healer to help him. Medicine and aid there for him in the end. Pain and suffering were something they all went through, but they survived. They always survived, even if he felt like he wasn't. Pain was a part of survival. Pain was the reality that life wasn't perfect, but a person could make it perfect with how they perceive it. Mitchell didn't want to become a monster. Mitchell didn't want to give in. There wouldn't be anymore pain if he made it out. There wouldn't be any suffering. Mitchell Laws stares at his allies, wondering the suffering they have all gone through. Parents who hated them. Strict regulations upon their lives. Starvation. Lack of hope. Their world was dark, but there was light somewhere. Mitchell didn't want to give in to the darkness, he wanted to lead them all through as the torch that lightens the dark. He wanted to be someone who he was proud of. Mitchell, Come home please. Carter was waiting for him. Carter had faith in him, even Jack did, with the subtle glance that he had caught. The Justice Building was them having faith in him. Mitchell Laws was weak, but he wasn't going to give up, not when Carter was waiting at home for him. Carter was watching him fight to the death, all of the Laws were. They were watching him let his allies get cut up and shrieking in terror as the beasts would strike. Mitchell couldn't let that be the thing they remembered. As he looks to Desimae, he speaks. "Red is more of your color." As he stares down the beast, his heart races with calmness and steadiness. His blade feels heavy, but fighting the beasts were all they could do. He strikes forward with only one thought in his mind, Carter, just believe in me. This one is for you.

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

(Mitchell Laws attacks Yeti #2 Jack with Sword)
mGUjREGIsword
(Deep Gash on Right Calf 8.0)sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

ENNIS THE YETI

Election night WIP

[Ennis attacks Asha; knife and sword]

k|7lEnm3knife

[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[Stabbed in Stomach -- 9.5 damage]

JACK THE YETI

</3

[Jack attacks Mitchell; knife and sword]

knife

[Slit Throat X -- 40 damage]

sword

[Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage]

knife�sword�knife�sword

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

There is an eerie feeling in the air, something that I haven’t sensed before. A foreign mist that is slowly masking the agony that surrounds me right now. Something is coming. I do not know whether it will be in my favour or not but it is coming and it’s coming pretty soon. Blood coats every single one of us, except the beasts we are facing. So this is it then. I am going to meet my demise by some engineered mutation created by the Capitol, I hoped for something more worthy. Maybe a tale of revenge by one of the allies of those that I had slaughtered but no, I get some grizzly beast with a musty scent that is far fouler than that of burning human flesh. My life is going to be taken by some meaningless manufactured machine. So that is likely to be my destiny then, the ink is slowly printing onto the paper….

…but I still have the chance to erase it before it dries.

Just one more push and the four of us can take them down and finally retreat from this damned mountain top. The fight will be over and I’ll be able to tend to my wounds and share more of the jokes with Mitchell and the others. I just want some down time, a time to spend with my messed up brain to try and fix it, answer the forever compiling list of unanswered questions and block out that voice. The stranger’s voice that has much recently began to take residence, such an influential voice with power, I cannot let it take over me. I can’t let it be like my father. The grand dictator that has ruled over my life since the very beginning and likely helped me get into this dismal position that I am currently living.

I can complain about him, I can complain and complain but it won’t get me home. I won’t be fighting to get home for him. I am fighting for Arnelle, Caimile, Vino and the others. Never for him.

"We're going to need more than that!"

And I damn well agree. As long as we all put together our strengths and push forwards, these beasts will be on the ground in no time. Gripping onto the glaive, I prepare for my next hit on the furry beast but that eerie feeling comes back, along with the screeching scream of a girl.

Desimae is screaming.What has happened?

Within the red mist, I can see it all, the terror unfolding.

Many times I have seen death, the death of strangers, the ones that my family killed. The death of those poor tributes in the bloodbath and the two I took with my own hands. But there is something different about seeing the death of a comrade.

Mitchell is dead.

Mitchell the boy from District Twelve. He seemed so mysterious to me but something clicked between us, a bond like no other. He was my man. Was and no more, all because of those damned creatures.

”For the love of Ripred, no!”

Ripred is not going to help Jenoah, he doesn’t exist. But he does, that is who Mitchell has gone too. Mitchell is dead and that is that.

”NO STOP IT, OH STOP IT”

Tears swarm my face and my vision is doubled. The world is spinning and the impact of the blood lost is slowly sinking in. My friend is dead. My mind is dead. And my soul is slowly following suit.

I must end this fight before more friends are taken. Really now is the time for revenge.

Attacks Ennis | Glaive

MrgOQb3Tglaive

13161 -- Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage

glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

I do not dare question a system that works, lest it collapse before my very eyes.

I always gnashed my teeth at routine: counting the hours I could lay in bed throwing off stainless white sheets, dragging myself from weapon to weapon, wondering which walls I would try to decorate on that day. When I had an outburst it was a blessing in disguise, a chance to break from the ordinary - a chance to feel something when all my hollow heartbeat knew was ice, I secretly welcomed the chance in all honesty. I hated the system along with its games of pretend and the routine; that's no way to tame a madman.

Four seconds passing and a catalyst for for the final cold touch dances across the tip of my fingers but I do not shiver. Rationale should make me shy away from the fact my blade barely managed to open a strip of black along matted furs of grey - failure can only serve to speed up my demise. Fear cannot serve as anything but the mind killer,the reaction it should create can't possibly bring me closer to shades of red splattering across white-washed walls. Immortality; it's eternal life for a reason.

Determination refuses to fade to desperation and the chill lingering in the back of a scrambled mind is only numbing. Blood lust cannot give way to failure; I won't stop until I find the beauty in these shades of grey.

Following a fragmented logic and the dotted droplets of black blood along the way, I do not care to ask the question of 'what if there is none?' until the passing seconds between adding another thin stroke to the artistic canvas and Desimae's next wave of profanities followed by a new knife that fails to reach terminal velocity or hit the target for that matter. In the stress of the fight, I begin to wonder where the fire that so almost nearly put me on death's door has gone.

She was supposed to burn brighter than a supernova, but I question if she was ever a star in the first place.

('No one belongs here, Asha.')

No beauty, a distressing concept, but my lips curl upwards all the same. "I will gut you." Threats never fell from dry lips, only promises of bloodshed and tears. Violence became my catalyst for pleasure from the age of thirteen while red strokes became my desired form of art. If only I knew promises meant nothing to Capitol creations that could only growl and swipe. To think that they called me the feral one, possession of blood lust driven by insanity doesn't make me insane, it makes me a monster.

Or a killer, whichever came first.

One kill notched on my belt, the key to the freedom from whitewashed walls clutched in my left hand; the girl from District Four is simply a feather on the conscious I do not feel.

('What do you have to say for yourself, Asha?'

'What do you want me to say?'

'... Asha.'

'What?'

'You're supposed to say you're sorry.')

I do not apologize for not gutting it already.

"Red is more your colour."

A catalyst for reason and thought, the thief makes me wonder how a normal person can remain composed in the face of an immortality that can only be toyed with. Engineering of scientists built to withstand the rage of a career and the desperation of a maimed boy. A composure bordering the insane would almost be impressive to someone who hadn't been rotting in the corners of his own mind.

Daring to lift a foot from scythe's edge, I tear my eyes away from the beast for a split second with a smile on my face.

"Mitchell-"

And I scream.

White hot pain exploding across my midsection, I do not dare to inhale the taste of iron stained across my teeth or drop my sword to meet the wound in my stomach. My head tilts back and vision swims but I do not dare look down. Undefined on a spectrum of absolutes, it is not fear that keeps me looking up nor is it fear that causes one trembling foot after the other to step back and slowly slide from the deadly point.

Lilith would scoff in disgust at me failing to pay attention.

Desimae's screams are vaguely distinguishable through the ringing and rapidly increasing heartbeat nearing breaking point. For a split second I think it is for my sake, blacked blood spilling down my front and all but I am not a corpse

yet.

Instead, I am left to thrust the point of my sword into the ground just to stop myself collapsing and I look to the side to see Jenoah with tears staining his cheeks, screaming something incomprehensible about ripred; his false god.

Confusion masked my pain, my eyes trace the trail of black staining a grey ground all the way to the downed form of Mitchell Laws.

Mitchell-

no question asked, no flames to lick the funeral pyre; the truth is blindingly obvious even to a fragmented mind with no method to his madness. No screams to add to the bitter harmonic of my allies, I do not have the strength or the will. Black smile etched across his throat ear to ear, I do not even catch a final scream for a wound that will not close or a last laugh for a life one cannot steal back from the pockets of the reaper's cloak.

If there's a will there's a way - I refuse to allow these to become the fragments of the ravings of a madman.

('So you don't feel anything?

'No, sir, what should I be feeling?'

'Remorse, you really hurt her Asha.')

I foolishly scramble to add pressure to a wound with no one to blame but myself; in the face of arteries severed and a voice box broken, it seems foolish to be complaining.

Every pint that drains from his neck is another piece of rubble added to the ruins of the system.

"You fucker..."

('You should feel bad, Asha, you should feel something.'

'I don't.'

'So you feel nothing?'

'Did I fucking stutter?'

'How about if I slap you, then will you feel something?!')

There is no method that can restore a broken system; even insanity can recognize the truth when looking in its eyes sometimes. When I stumble forwards and strike, the only thing that holds me back are two cannons; the cannon that could have been and the cannon itching to sound.

[Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #1 (Ennis), Falchion]

jgIrlf4fsword

[1052 -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

sword

[grim.]

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A sort of hum overtakes my ears. A soft lull of what is to come. I can feel the bitter nip of the sun, smell the fragrant sugars that welled within each fruit. I was home, at least for a moment. I missed being enthralled in the lush green. I longed for the day I would once again be able to pluck bits of branches and leafs from Lilith's mound of strawberry locks. I wanted so badly to feel the brush of the wheat grass against my shins, my palms stained with berry juice. But that was no longer my home, not anymore. I would either fall flat in this arena, or I would return home to remain in a village that reeked of broken children. Would I ever return to Katelyn? Though I had discovered her words were nothing but a scheme, she treated me with kindness until our parting.

Within seconds the hum stops and I am whipped back into reality. Back to the nipping wind, and the growl of these muttations. I watch as my knife slips past the beast, my faith failing me. It whirls aimlessly, its resting place on solid ground. I fell my brow sink, the frustration of missing such an eligible target overtaking me. I clasp my hand around the hilt of my axe, preparing to launch my own body at this beast. Within moments I hear the shrill of Asha, his stomach being torn before me. I watch as deep crimson falls from the wound, his scream echoing throughout my skull. I feel my spine shiver, I knew he was feeling a tremendous amount of pain, it brought welling tears to my eyes. I wanted to take all of their pain away, make smiles reappear on their faces, though had I ever really known them. I had only known them when fear and remorse and violence had become them.

The sight of red bombards my vision. I watch as the beast splices Mitchell's neck. His blood staining the grown just inches from my feet. The once seemingly immortal boy had fallen before me. His neck spewing more of the ruby liquid, had fatality truly overtaken one of my boys. I am incapable of movement, I am incapable of anything, I want to rush to his side, to hold my hands over his leaking throat, but I had known that no amount of medical attention could fix a wound as fatal as this. I let a flurry of shrieks leave my lungs. My breathing becoming sharp, my cheeks burning with the salty tears that pour from my eyes. I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I wasn't strong enough to keep him alive. I feel the weight of my chest crumble onto my heart. I feel the choke of my own throat, the buckle of my knees. A piece of my heart fractures within my chest, and my love had fallen before me.

I feel a sense of rage overtake my body, my heart truly shrinking in size. That beast had stolen a piece of me away, taking what is rightfully mine, and obliterating it in its path of destruction. I rip the axe from my belt holding it above my head. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!." I shout, my mouth spitting venom, and my heart racing at a pace I was unfamiliar with. "How dare you rip him away from me! How fucking dare you steal what little happiness I have AWAY!" I am sure to look the beast directly in the eyes, piercing through its mutated skull. That message was not directed at the beast, but at its creature, at my creature. I sprint toward the beast, my axe held firm and with a large huff I flail down at the beast, I lost a piece of myself, I had lost Mitchell Laws. Though spirits flock to those who fear, angels fly with those who conquer. And with that, the small piece of my heart that had fractured, finally shatters.

[attr="class","DesiName"]

Desi.

Gorgeous Table by Anzie



Desi attacks Yeti #2 Jack // Axe

Mvb6R4qbaxe
{dg on cheek +8.5}

axe

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

JACK THE YETI

Why you gotta kill Ennis, he ain't even killed no one. But I have. And now you've taken away my only reason to run to the Rift.

So I guess it's down we go. Down, down, down.

[Jack attacks Jenoah; knife]

DKaRDKHhknife

[Stabbed in Thigh -- 8.5 damage]

[Jack attacks Desimae; sword]

sword

[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage]

knife�sword

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

Look at the monster that you have become.

No.

You’re becoming the man that your father always wanted you to be.

No.

That voice needs to go. It needs to get out. Its devilish tone and familiar accent is slowly digging a grave for me. I’ll be joining Mitchell shortly if I don’t fight it. So many fights, it’s a never ending story…

It’s just me Asha and Desimae now, neither who I have bonded as strongly as I did with Mitchell. Asha the fierce villain. Desimae the runaway princess who is too strong to rely on any male counterpart. She is the princess bride, her obvious suitor the villain of the tale. And where do I stand in this? I am just the castaway, left to struggle and piece together his life.

I’m walking some sort of green mile right now, the destiny of death an arm’s length away. If I don’t pull back and sort myself out, I will get to a point where there is no chance for a turn around. This is my last chance. I can’t keep letting myself sink so low. There is no destiny. There is no god. I have to accept reality and pull through or I have no chance.

Mitchell is gone and that is reality. Death catches up to everyone and one day it will come after me but I can turn to death and say ”catch me if you can!” because today is not the day that I join in arms with it. I have my band of brothers waiting back home, I can’t let any of them down.

Asha’s sword sticks into the creature’s head, its body falling limp to the ground. One down, one to go.

I try to keep my focus onto the last creature, blocking out the body of my friend that lies still on the ground. I need to end this beast for him, it is the best I can do now, take revenge…

”it’s time to end this!” I say, but before I have the chance to sink my blade into the fur, it lashes out, taking a hit to my thigh.

”It is really fucking time to end it!” Some sort of fury flushes over me, engulfing the voice in my head that began to speak. A tsunami of emotions, many much stronger than the sorrow and confusion that was once ruling the stronghold. Maybe anger will help power me through the arena.

I tried to be morale but I ended up killing.

I tried grief but that ended up getting me injured.

Maybe it is time to unleash the beast. Fire can only be fought with fire….

But remember Jenoah, you’re becoming what your father always wanted you to be!

No!

”I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR MY FATHER! I AM DOING THIS FOR ME!”

I charge the blade forwards, an unknown power having full control of the force.

Attacks Jack | Glaive

8Vawh8laglaive

13145 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage

glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

Deep pants sound between brick walls slowly crumbling, trembling, cracking. I took the system for granted, a structure to a chaos not even my defective brain could conjure up during the night. I took it for granted, I truly did.

No rest for the wicked and no mercy to the righteous angel, a part of me was blind to the truth. Too blinded by a smokescreen thicker than the ever looming thread of death itself, too caught up on the 'here' and 'now' to cast a thought to the 'should' and 'could'; I am a man of action in the present after all. Consequences and end points are lost on me, not once have I thought to take responsibility for the actions or consider the method to the madness I was blindsided by at thirteen.

Countless numbers of incidents marked on whitewashed skin that I could never justify other than an attempt to thaw a numbing heart. The consequences of daring to look away from the target are evident from the hole in my stomach while the bitter reality of a lapse in focus is clear at the bleeding man at my feet.

No mercy for the righteous angel that clipped its wings, no rest for the wretched demon that still stands with his own blood dripping between his fingers and a corpse to blame at his feet.

But vengeance does not come full circle, yet.

I inhale and regret instantly pounds my head, weak legs almost give way to spiraling to the ground at an unthinkable slowness I cannot comprehend. Had I not thrust the point of my sword down to catch myself against dry rock, I may have tasted dirt for the first time since the detonation of tranquility at the cornucopia. "I'm not done yet." I suppress winces between words, pain is a diagnosis I'll bitterly accept but not wear proudly on crusted my sleeve.

Despite the world spinning, I still manage to catch Desimae's screams. One part horrified and one part enraged. "How dare you rip him away from me! How fucking dare you steal what little happiness I have AWAY!"

She does not wait before opening a fresh wound upon its arm. Between dull pain in my stomach and a canon that could have been, a smile still curls upon my lips at black arching through the air and spattering dry ground. I do not cast a thought that under the system I took for granted, Mitchell would have followed up with his steel sword and lighthearted words. I cannot expect much from a man without a throat, or an angel with no damaged wings.

I brace myself for another flash of white, perhaps the final one, but instead the beasts claws veer away from my trembling flesh and find themselves skewered into Jenoah's thigh and form a new scratch against Desimae's.

”I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR MY FATHER! I AM DOING THIS FOR ME!”

A cute war cry, but my grin knits into a scowl when his glaive veers far wider from the flesh of the beast than needed; vengeance snuffed out into nothing but a dream.

No rest for the wretched demon.

"Jenoah, it did this to him, it slit his fucking throat and that's the best you could do?!" I balance my sword and tighten my fingers around the hilt. Two steps and I am on the edge of an eruption that would drive me to stick the point of my sword through Jenoah's chest, just so I could show him how to hit a fucking target. The back of my mind begins to question the absence of the one who could make deals with fire like it was an old friend, manage black ravens and never clip their wing despite the fact there is no talon gripping the pole of his glaive.

He put two people on death's door but he is no monster. He's-

"a weakling Jenoah, a fucking weakling!"

The point of my sword gleams in the ashen sunlight as it arcs towards the consequences of my actions, though I barely manage to keep it on course for the vengeance my allies do not dare grasp in the palm of their hands despite thirsting for it more than the idea of life itself.

(Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #2 Jack with sword)
LNq6lN|osword
(3.5)

sword

[grim.]

sorry for the filler ill fix it soon

{desi flees fight}

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

filler flee as I am busy tonight but will fill when I have time

[Jenoah flees from the fight]

[All other stuff in maint]

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

Okay quick filler but I AM WRITING A POST NOW SO DON'T HATE

(hey hey, I could fill this in later)

[Asha Lumiere flees]
[Stuff gonna happen in trib maint yo]