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towerofanimus2013-07-05 11:43 am
destructiveprinciple) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-05 11:43 am
☠ 004 | all sufferings, all pleasures, all good and evil
Characters: Avenger and OPEN to all.
Setting: Dormitory levels, elsewhere and then the first floor, the seventy-fifth floor, and the twenty-fifth floor.
Format: Action spam to start with.
Summary: A typical open log for this month.
Warnings: All the Evils' in The World is present in this post which is a warning by itself, along with grossness/gore and blood in the first prompt? Also the expected fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 75: OUTSIDE ]
[ Seated on the grass warmed by the clear weather on this floor outside the twenty-story tower, the Servant is busily pulling the slowily-cooling intestines out of a dead monster, its stomach slit wide open. Its throat is a ravaged mess. A few other organs laid spattered bloodily on the ground next to Avenger; two hearts (who knew some of them had extra hearts?), what looks to be the liver, maybe a section of the stomach? It could be an alien-looking kidney. It's hard to identify them correctly. His arms are bright red up to the elbows.
What he couldn't dig out with his hands and strength, he used his short swords to cut them up further and make the task easier to complete.
One or two lumps of maimed tendons and meat that might have once resembled the regular monsters themselves, are left nearby as well, given a similarly careless treatment.
Boredom is a strange thing, when paired with constant murderous urges that Angra is attempting to redirect away from fellow residents. At least he decided to do this in a corner of this floor far away from the stairs? Not that he's making any attempt to conceal this from prying eyes. He just likes the quiet between hunting down the Tower-generated creatures. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ His eyes are closed and he's flopped over onto his side onto the soft grass with one side of his face pressed against the ground, under the cool, dark shade of one of the trees in the meadow. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. Taking a nap in the evening was pointless; it wasn't like he required sleep or even food or housing. But he felt the desire to pretend at it, and since he had no reason other than his instinctive paranoia to not to leave himself open in any manner, he went along with it. Angra had never quite regained the knack to true semblance of slumber after his first life, only managing a light doze or total dreamless unconsciousness at the best.
His sleep was restless and shallow.At least he doesn't snore.
So when somebody's feet unexpectedly impacts with the embodiment of all evils' ribs and there's a sudden, unwanted weight tripping over him, it roused him easily. Wheezing at the knee that comes down into his stomach, he rolls over, hurriedly trying to push them off of his body and sputters in confusion. ]
—!!? Wha, wh—
[ Disoriented and groggy, Avenger still snaps to wakefulness speedily in a few moments with an irritated snarl of fury as he realizes what happened. ]
—Watching where you're fuckin' going... [ He spat out, a tick mark show showing on his forehead; ] is way too much trouble, huh! Idiot!
[ VERY RUDE. ]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: POST-SPARRING ]
[ There was a line of old scrapes and redness along his knuckles where Saber whacked him if he'd gotten careless for even an instance while fighting her, a newer bruise on one cheekbone and what felt like a swollen knot blooming on the top of his head from a blow to the skull. Generally, he looked like he'd gone biking on a deserted road, collided head-on with a small truck and come out the worse off.
Of course, that was usually the normal result of his sparring matches with Arturia: 'Shirou' getting beaten up repeatedly and mercilessly for one or two hours, stop for the day, do it again later, rinse, wash, repeat. He'd improved, yes, to the point where he could block her attacks occasionally and even deflect them, but he couldn't avoid getting knocked out. In today's session, he tried going on the offensive for a short time before changing his mind and deciding the price paid in the strength of her blows was too much, and playing it defensively in a battle against the Servant would probably work best.
His body burned with pain. 'Shirou' , ignoring his body's complaints of fresh soreness, wipes the lingering sweat off his forehead with his arm, calming his breathing down. The discomfort he was currently in would fade soon enough. As if to spite him until then, a knife of minor pain stabbed abruptly him in the side. ]
... Ow—ouch, owch...
[ He winced and dropped his arm back down to his side. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK ]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme.
He's not a picky sort of guy.
It's possible to find him sitting on tombstones in the cemetery staring at the fabrication of the skies on one floor, not mourning the dead just looking at the view, slinking through the sandy caverns on another floor, or walking over the farmland on one of the lower floors.
'Shirou' is much more easy to run into during the day, tinkering with dented toasters in the workshop, hanging out in the media room, or obsessively patrolling the hallways and floors of the Towers as normal, bruises or no bruises. Business as usual here! ]
Setting: Dormitory levels, elsewhere and then the first floor, the seventy-fifth floor, and the twenty-fifth floor.
Format: Action spam to start with.
Summary: A typical open log for this month.
Warnings: All the Evils' in The World is present in this post which is a warning by itself, along with grossness/gore and blood in the first prompt? Also the expected fare for the Tower of Animus.
[ SCENARIO A || FLOOR 75: OUTSIDE ]
[ Seated on the grass warmed by the clear weather on this floor outside the twenty-story tower, the Servant is busily pulling the slowily-cooling intestines out of a dead monster, its stomach slit wide open. Its throat is a ravaged mess. A few other organs laid spattered bloodily on the ground next to Avenger; two hearts (who knew some of them had extra hearts?), what looks to be the liver, maybe a section of the stomach? It could be an alien-looking kidney. It's hard to identify them correctly. His arms are bright red up to the elbows.
What he couldn't dig out with his hands and strength, he used his short swords to cut them up further and make the task easier to complete.
One or two lumps of maimed tendons and meat that might have once resembled the regular monsters themselves, are left nearby as well, given a similarly careless treatment.
Boredom is a strange thing, when paired with constant murderous urges that Angra is attempting to redirect away from fellow residents. At least he decided to do this in a corner of this floor far away from the stairs? Not that he's making any attempt to conceal this from prying eyes. He just likes the quiet between hunting down the Tower-generated creatures. ]
[ SCENARIO B || FLOOR 25: THE MEADOW ]
[ His eyes are closed and he's flopped over onto his side onto the soft grass with one side of his face pressed against the ground, under the cool, dark shade of one of the trees in the meadow. His thin shoulders rise and fall in sync with his even, slow breathing. Taking a nap in the evening was pointless; it wasn't like he required sleep or even food or housing. But he felt the desire to pretend at it, and since he had no reason other than his instinctive paranoia to not to leave himself open in any manner, he went along with it. Angra had never quite regained the knack to true semblance of slumber after his first life, only managing a light doze or total dreamless unconsciousness at the best.
His sleep was restless and shallow.
So when somebody's feet unexpectedly impacts with the embodiment of all evils' ribs and there's a sudden, unwanted weight tripping over him, it roused him easily. Wheezing at the knee that comes down into his stomach, he rolls over, hurriedly trying to push them off of his body and sputters in confusion. ]
—!!? Wha, wh—
[ Disoriented and groggy, Avenger still snaps to wakefulness speedily in a few moments with an irritated snarl of fury as he realizes what happened. ]
—Watching where you're fuckin' going... [ He spat out, a tick mark show showing on his forehead; ] is way too much trouble, huh! Idiot!
[ VERY RUDE. ]
[ SCENARIO C || DORMITORY LEVELS: POST-SPARRING ]
[ There was a line of old scrapes and redness along his knuckles where Saber whacked him if he'd gotten careless for even an instance while fighting her, a newer bruise on one cheekbone and what felt like a swollen knot blooming on the top of his head from a blow to the skull. Generally, he looked like he'd gone biking on a deserted road, collided head-on with a small truck and come out the worse off.
Of course, that was usually the normal result of his sparring matches with Arturia: 'Shirou' getting beaten up repeatedly and mercilessly for one or two hours, stop for the day, do it again later, rinse, wash, repeat. He'd improved, yes, to the point where he could block her attacks occasionally and even deflect them, but he couldn't avoid getting knocked out. In today's session, he tried going on the offensive for a short time before changing his mind and deciding the price paid in the strength of her blows was too much, and playing it defensively in a battle against the Servant would probably work best.
His body burned with pain. 'Shirou' , ignoring his body's complaints of fresh soreness, wipes the lingering sweat off his forehead with his arm, calming his breathing down. The discomfort he was currently in would fade soon enough. As if to spite him until then, a knife of minor pain stabbed abruptly him in the side. ]
... Ow—ouch, owch...
[ He winced and dropped his arm back down to his side. ]
[ SCENARIO D || ANYWHERE IN THE TOWER: YOUR PICK ]
[ Generally, Angra wanders through an assortment of floors at night and shows little concern for which ones he ends up on as long as they are neither overly threatening or extreme.
He's not a picky sort of guy.
It's possible to find him sitting on tombstones in the cemetery staring at the fabrication of the skies on one floor, not mourning the dead just looking at the view, slinking through the sandy caverns on another floor, or walking over the farmland on one of the lower floors.
'Shirou' is much more easy to run into during the day, tinkering with dented toasters in the workshop, hanging out in the media room, or obsessively patrolling the hallways and floors of the Towers as normal, bruises or no bruises. Business as usual here! ]
no subject
[oddly cavalier attitude to take about the possibility, waver...]
i'm sorry
[ And for once in the conversation, it's not said like he's being mocking. It has a more matter-of-fact tone to it.
Then he dematerializes, and before there's time for the magus to collect himself, Avenger hops aboard the bad decision dinosaur train on a whim and slams into him as he re-materializes, slamming him off his feet and flat onto the grass.
Okay, he can't beat a fellow Servant in single combat but a human? That's doable.There's a tattooed hand reaching out to tightly grab his throat, and another hand holding a warped-look short sword right against his shoulder. ]
Waver Velvet, that's a very good suggestion! [ He grins wickedly down at him. ] I'm considering trying it.
he kinda had it coming lbr
[One hand wrapped around Avenger's wrist in an attempt to pry it off his throat, the other immediately opening the vial in his pocket. With what little breath he could manage, Waver choked out a few quick words in Latin; the silver Mystic Code immediately formed and twisted in response, swinging and lashing out in an attempt to at least knock Avenger off of him.]
waver... orz
He squeezes harder, ignoring Waver's hand clamped around his wrist and his weak attempts to pry him off until the magus manages to choke out a quick incantation, and the silver mass promptly lashes out at the Servant in response.
It smashed into him, his eyes widening in pain at the blow but unfortunately he stubbornly doesn't let go of Waver's throat, so when he's knocked off, the older man's body gets dragged along as well. Which can't be pleasant.
Avenger loses hold of his dagger in the process however.
Luckily, his grip during that loosens a bit and isn't strong enough to strangle Waver, but breathing would be hard. ]
no subject
[...No one ever said Waver had great priorities. But then again, his self-preservation instinct wasn't too bad in dire situations like this. While he didn't trust his concentration enough to strike precisely at Avenger's wrist or hand with Volumen Hydragyrum, Waver had to do something before the hand on his throat or the blood he was now rapidly losing caused him to pass out.]
[There was no question in Waver's mind that he couldn't stand against a Servant in combat; his encounter with Berserker some time prior had reinforced the fact. But if he was fast enough, he could at least hope to knock Avenger off of him and use his Mystic Code to cover an escape.]
[Luckily, his weapons weren't just limited to mercury. Waver had spent years learning to beat magi at his game rather than their own; and when hand to hand combat failed, conventional weaponry would compensate. He'd carried a knife since he was a teenager for a long list of reasons, and it was that knife he'd taken from the same pocket as his Mystic Code and attempted to stab into Avenger's arm.]
[It was desperation, really. The frantic clawing of one driven straight into a corner; there was nothing remotely planned or strategized about this, which wasn't like him at all. Really, despite how reckless he'd be in antagonizing Avenger to start with, Waver flat-out didn't want to die.]
no subject
He's fumbling with his free hand for the twisted dagger he dropped in the scuffle when Waver manages to yank his knife out of his pocket and bring it up to stab Avenger's arm. He succeeds, plunging it in, slicing open his dark skin but the Servant's reactions will be disappointing. All he does is utter a single grunt of pained aggravation and slams his knee into the man's stomach, again. Ignore it. It wasn't the loss of an arm or a broken leg. It was a minor annoyance, a fly buzzing near his ear. It was nothing.
Momentarily giving up on grabbing his own knife from the grass, he brings up his wounded arm and tries to sock Waver with a fist in the face. ]
no subject
Scalp--! [Volumen Hydragyrum responded as well, twisting into long tendrils and lashing out at the Servant with sharp edges rather than blunt force.]
no subject
Hgn— [ He cheats and dematerializes, unwilling to endure the unnecessary pain of being sliced up by the tendrils of mercury, giving a Waver a good chance to breathe. And once the Volumen Hydragyrum passes through the space where he had been, he lashes out with a kick, this time to the man's knees.
Prehaps if Waver got a good glimpse of Angra's eyes looking down at him, he'd see the vast, inhumane hatred that burned in them, the hatred for all humans, dead and dust and alive and breathing. It wasn't directed at Waver personally either. It was always there, but for the moment, it was out in the open instead of just boiling silently in him. ]
no subject
Automatoportum defensio. [Now he'd at least have the mercury as a shield when Avenger struck out again. But enough was enough; he had to plan and put into action some method of escape before this got worse.]
[Anything to get away from that look, that stare that encompassed all the terrible sensation he'd felt watching Fuyuki burn and more still. Waver Velvet was no longer someone who could be frightened easily, but that look on Avenger's face terrified him even as he met it with cold defiance. There was no shame in fear. Fear existed to warn one of danger they couldn't handle; it was allowing it to overwhelm him that would be a mistake.]
[Currently, his sentiments could be summarized as I am afraid of you. But I am still going to destroy you.]
Scalp. [The mercury lashed out again as Waver himself started to back off, hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder.]
no subject
His look didn't falter for even a single moment from the magus, the hatred and brutish bloodlust didn't lessen. He waited.
The magus's cold defiance didn't impress him.
When the mercury lunged towards him, Avenger simply dematerialized and allowed the Mystic Code to pass right through where he was standing before reappearing and starting in Waver's direction, intent on inflicting even more physical pain onto the man than before.
The Servant paused. Wait, he had no plans on killing this human, did he?
And as abruptly and unexpectedly as he had lashed out at Waver in the beginning, he seemingly lost interest in pursuing him any further. He stopped, took a step back and expressionlessly watched as Waver backed away. ]