towerofanimus | In which the entire tower collectively goes OH SHIT

Tales of white knights on horseback didn't originate in Europe for nothing. England's no superhero, nor is he a mage adept or martial arts master, but he's nothing to sneeze at in regards to military training and he can certainly hold his own against the...creatures that lay siege to the tower. He wasn't frightened -- fear of injury was something he had gotten past a long time ago. It was definitely conductive to his continuous struggle fending off the monsters.

He was juggling his fighting knife and his beloved gun like a pro, but still, he's only one person, and he can't take care of all of these by himself. Plus, he'll eventually run out of ammunition if he's not careful.

He'd really appreciate anyone that would be willing to help him, to be honest. Even though he was pretty grumpy at that moment, with all the fighting and the running out of breath and all.

[ ooc: will do prose or action C: whichever you prefer ]

[ Link is perfectly at home in this situation, cleaving through everything in her path. Some things she recognized to be twisted evils from her own land (Redeads, Stalchildren, Poes, Floormasters, Dead Hands, to name a select few), and some she'd never encountered.

Regardless, though, they kept coming. When she saw England, she quickly cut down the creatures in her path, picked an arrow out of her quiver, and it lit on fire, sailing through the air and through many monsters on it's way. Several more joined the first, and she followed the projectile's path with her sword and shield, making her way to the man before she lost her chance.

It's a good thing she's quick on her feet. ]

Arthur--!

[ Please to be watching your back, she may not get there in time. Because these things just KEEP. COMING. ]

[England's not nearly as used to the terrible beasts that ravage the tower -- not fighting against them, anyways. He's no stranger to lore and the otherworldly, but there are things here he's never even dreamed of, and wards won't do anything to quell these monsters.

Link's voice alarms him, and he whirls quickly on his feet to look in her direction. He's relieved to see that she seems unharmed on the whole, but she's still being mobbed, and that's a bit less of a relaxing thing.

He ducks the sweeping claws of some slinking, bony shadow to reload his gun, and quickly shoots down some of the zombie-like creatures that look like they might be eying Link in a funny way.]

'Ello. [A casual greeting, because he's more afraid for others than himself, and Link is more than competent -- she doesn't need his fear on her behalf. He doesn't sound as casual as the words he's saying, but he's not exactly panicked, either.

He'll be fine until you get here, Link.]

[ That's good, because Redeads have a nasty habit of screeching and freezing the weak of heart. At the moment, she isn't about to wait for that to happen. By the time she gets there, which takes a few sidesteps and a backflip or two out of the way of some rather perilously sharp claws, she's covered in blood and ooze of some sort that she can't be bothered to think of.

For the moment, she quickly sinks her blade into anyway near them, particularly the ones that are large in stature. ]

Thank you.

[ And she raises her shield to reflect some sort of lazer-like beam of dark energy back into the face of some random monster, sorching it to death. ]

This is why I keep my blade within arm's length at all times.

[ She wipes a bit of sweat off her brow on her arm; this is tiring, even for someone in shape like her, because there's just SO MANY of them. ]

[Once Link is within range, England slips his gun into his belt again and goes for his knife instead, which is rapidly put to use on some very handsy creature to his left.] And thank you, as well. [He saw those arrows earlier, and there aren't many people around here equipped with bows.]

[He swings the arm of his empty hand out, effectively clotheslining one of the monsters so that he can drive his blade into an area that looks sufficiently vital.]

I've learned to do the same since coming here. [England huffs a little, giving a low growl as he kicks out to rid his knife of the corpse he's just made.] It's a damn shame, really.

[How he can talk at a time like this is a marvel. But, again, he's not exactly scared, and if Link is going to make conversation...]

[ You'd be surprised how easy it is to make casual conversation despite this sort of situation, especially for a fighter such as her. ]

It is.

[ And whatever's in front of her is stabbed violently, without hesitation. Something she senses behind her she quickly spins around to, separating the creature neatly from it's torso.

She's sure it won't miss it. ]

I recognize some of these, vaguely. It seems whatever's responsible for this is drawing from our worlds--

[ Annnd she'll be blocking the sword of a heavily armored lizard-type creature with a sword of it's own, shield raised. Only it's twisted, even more than she remembers. Red eyes, hulking, and horrific. ]

Though I don't... QUITE remember them being so difficult to fell.

[ CLANG. Another sword stroke is blocked and she retaliates in turn with the Master Sword. ]

[England is used to all kinds of warfare. Perhaps he's just recalling his attitude of the days when most of his time was spent in the trenches.]

I don't recognize most of these. [He can't quite find it in himself to be ashamed to admit that at the moment. He could swear he's seen some of those weird little things that Estonia takes care of in the chaos, but he kind of just thought he'd finally lost his shit, so he's not going to mention those.

He rapidly draws his gun with his empty hand to shoot at a monster coming up on Link from the rear, and following that, pretty much pistolwhips the closest enemy, resulting in a nice point-blank fire when his finger slips on the trigger.] Well, that's certainly a relief. Here I thought that my abilities were just lacking. [He is pretty much just a normal human, ability-wise. He's just got above-average levels of training.]

I'm not really surprised though. If they can take us from our worlds, it makes sense that they would be able to take other-- [Oh, wait, duck and cover.] --nh, things, as well. [And stab.]

... It's somewhat problematic. If this doesn't end soon, all of us will push ourselves to exhaustion.

[ Sigh. She supposes this is what that potion is for...

But in the end, she continues fighting bravely, admiring England's own tenacity. ]

After this, we ought to do something a bit more-- [ CLANG. WHAM. SLASH. ] ... Peaceful.

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keepscalm - 2012-01-08 19:25 (UTC) - Expand

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ocariness - 2012-01-16 09:47 (UTC) - Expand

What Alice had learned regarding fighting, she had taught herself out of necessity and through her own experience. The creatures wouldn't cease? Then neither would she. The possibility of her own death did not frighten her, as she felt she had experienced a similar enough state during her years in the Asylum. However, she would not let death find the others.

If they couldn't defend themselves, Alice would do it for them.

"Growing weary so soon?"

She was just one girl with one knife. How much could she possibly accomplish?

There was but one way to find out.

England spared the girl a glance between his relentless shooting and stabbing. That was about all he could spare before he had to return his sights to the demons intent on gutting him, but where she was not in his eyes, she remained in his thoughts. She looked like just a girl, but England knew better than that. Tales of changelings, succubi, and all other manner of humanoid creatures visible only through belief had taught him not to judge a book by its cover.

Not to mention that the girl felt so familiar somehow. It was something he didn't have enough focus to pinpoint at the moment, but any familiarity right now was a comfort, no matter how vague.

"Not nearly," answered the nation as he slashed open the face of some hapless monstrosity with a mighty swing of the arm equipped with the blade. He knew weariness, and this was definitely not it.

"Good, it's too early for any of that."

A formal introduction would have to wait once their safety had been ensured. She glanced at the man dispatching his opponent shortly before claiming a victory of her own. Blood splashed onto her dress, the newer stains mixing in with the older ones.

Alice seemed unfazed by it all, drops of blood falling from her Vorpal Blade.

"Had I known this mess was going to happen, I would've prepared some additional tea for myself." She remarked before setting her sights on yet another foe.

England almost laughed -- would have laughed if he'd had the same insane bravado that had fueled him in the nineteenth century. He felt wry amusement bubble up, but the only change in his face was a dry grimace as he flicked a glob of mystery fluid off of his knife so he could drive it into another enemy.

"Tea would be indescribably brilliant right now," agreed the nation, backpedaling rapidly to avoid impalement from a set of nasty claws. His shirt didn't escape unscathed (and neither did his torso, for that matter; that was a pretty line-up of scratches), but it was better than becoming a kebab.

He grunted and lunged forward to put all of his weight into stabbing the scaly fiend. Putting aside the fact that he technically already was doing quite a bit of killing, he really would kill for tea right now.

A fan of tea, was he? So there was some good fortune to be had from this after all.

Another target turned into another corpse, as the creature drew it's final breath. Alice pulled out the blood-soaked Vorpal Blade before taking in a deep breath. Not all of the blood on Alice had come from the monsters. But even if she had lost some of her own, she clearly still had enough left to continue pulling her own weight.

"A shame they don't seem to realize the importance of a good cup of tea."

Finally there was someone with an ounce of sense regarding choice in beverages. It was regrettable that they had to meet under these conditions (as opposed to conditions where they could actually have tea, and oh goddamnit all of his tea was in his trunk, this damn tower better get their possessions back to them posthaste after this disaster subsides).

"They should at least keep the kitchen stocked with it at all times," he conceded with a scowl as he threw his arm up to block his face from some swinging limb coming his way. "And not continue with this infrequent monthly chance bollocks that seems to be the norm when they decide the menu." He very quickly lodged the blade into aforementioned limb after parrying it, ripping the knife upwards along the tissue of the monster.

He was going to be in severe need of a shower following all this fighting if he survived.

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bittertears - 2012-01-11 17:18 (UTC) - Expand

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keepscalm - 2012-01-15 19:49 (UTC) - Expand

[A monster in question gets beaned over the head with a broken off chair leg, and wobbles in place but doesn't go down. It reorients itself and changes direction, snarling, to go after her.

Willow squeaks and jumps back, dropping the chair leg to the ground in fright and reflexively throwing a hand up. A quick burst of flame shoots out and consumes the monster, which screams incoherently.]

Don't these things have weaknesses?!

[England quickly lowers himself to prepare to lunge at the creature when it goes for the young woman, but then -- seemingly with no effort at all -- she ignites her attacker, and his eyes widen a little. He can feel the spark of magic behind it.

He doesn't have too much time to be in awe, as something approaching from his rear provokes him to lift his leg so he can throw it back in a crescent kick, knocking the monster to the side so that he can ream it with his knife.]

I think that would be far too convenient. [Oh that British sarcasm. Is there ever a wrong time for it?]

[In her opinion, no. Are they exchanging witty quips while exterminating demons now? That's practically her natural habitat.]

You seem to be doing okay with the... kicking. Me, not so good with kicking. [Even as she speaks she's backing up hurriedly, rushing not to get too close to the monsters and have her powers disable. Willow likes to think of herself as pretty been there, done that at this point in her life, but nothing got under her skin faster than the idea that she'd be without her magic.

She makes a quick whirling motion with her hand, and her formerly dropped chair leg lifts up off the ground telekinetically and skewers right through another monster. Of course, this is rather a gory process aside from being a magically strenuous one, and her nose wrinkles.] Oh, Goddess, this is gross.

[England hasn't even tried to use his own magic -- that's not where his offensive forte lies, and it would take too much time. However, watching the woman perform hers has him reaching for it, just a little, and-- suddenly he can't reach it. He can't even feel it.

Suddenly it makes a little more sense why she's so desperately backpedaling. Alright, he thinks he's got an idea for an arrangement.]

Military training. [...sort of. The spray of whatever disgusting stuff fills the monster doesn't seem to faze him much; then again, with how much action his knife has seen, his arms are practically drenched by this point with all sorts of lovely mystery fluids. He likes this shirt, too.]

If I keep them away, can you continue using your magic? [He's got no problem being a tank if it'll make the exterminating more efficient.]

[Whatever training it is, she's grateful for it. Willow doesn't have a problem with gore in front of her-- just with causing it. It brings up bad memories and self-doubt and, generally, further badness.

But she doesn't really have a choice here, and she adjusts fast.] Not a problem, [she declares, resolve firming. She glances over to meet his eyes for a brief moment.] If I could focus for a second, this would go a lot faster.

[It would take some serious teamwork for her to trust that he wouldn't let her get mauled from behind while she was concentrating, but Willow trusted people on the fly regularly. It rarely ever served her wrong; she didn't hesitate here.]

[England makes sure to position himself between the redhead and most of the monsters once she agreed.]

Focus away, my dear. [He withdraws his gun to shoot at a few creatures that looked like they were going to approach her from the rear, and then whirls rapidly to elbow the closest beast to his side. Gosh, it's almost like elbowing France. That's sort of nice. Until he catches a claw across the arm and suddenly his blood -- or, more of his blood, his hands aren't exactly in good shape -- is mixing with the oozy cocktail saturating his shirt.

He grits his teeth and bears it, though. He's suffered much worse than a scratch. After a quick check to make sure the woman wasn't about to be ambushed, he rushed another of the writhing adversaries.]

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guiltapalooza - 2012-01-17 01:19 (UTC) - Expand

Ivan found England the hard way--he very nearly attacked him, having grown so used to hitting and shooting at everything that was in his way, going back and forth between both his pipe and his gun, eyes wild, a grin on his face, a long scrape over his cheek Once he saw it was England however, he turned slightly, slamming his pipe into one of the monsters' throats. "Ah, it is good seeing you again, Angliya."

Russia almost got himself shot for his troubles -- England was too quick on the draw, and he actually did pull the trigger. Only a quick last-second adjustment of his arm kept the bullet from burying itself into Russia.

England scowled, mostly to hide his minor disturbance at just how much fun Russia seemed to be having with mauling these monsters. "A shame it's under such circumstances," added the smaller nation curtly, ramming his elbow backwards into one of the creatures at his rear. He heard the sound of his shirt tearing, and simultaneously felt a warmth and sting in his shoulder that indicated a cut (or two or three), but his only reaction was a minor wince. The offending attacker was then accordingly stabbed with no mercy.

Of course Russia was having a good time. It was nice to finally get his aggressions out on something, especially something that was a part of why he was stuck in this tower in the first place. He had had a lot of agitation building up, and that he could finally do something with it... That was fantastic, really. He didn't seem to notice the close call he had with England's gun, barely paying attention to what the Brit was doing. After all, he deemed the monsters as a much bigger threat.

"Mmm. Da. This could be being a better place to be meeting. But there is nothing that we can be doing about that, da?" he replied, bludgeoning one of the monsters in front of him, and then wheeling around to slam the butt of his gun into another of them. Bullets needed to be made to last as long as possible, after all.

One would think that an outlet for anger would be a welcome thing to to the repressed former empire, but he'd squashed his rage so far down that the only thing arising now was irritation. Which was unfortunately the norm for England. There was no venting a habit.

"Regrettably," he conceded shortly, rearing back to bury his heel into a monster approaching him head-on. "You're faring well, I see." A mindless observation, to be sure, and one that he didn't expect would be contradicted. But on the off-chance that Russia was having trouble somehow, it would only be the honourable thing to do to assist him.

Ivan nodded a little at the question the other asked, knowing he had to answer verbally as well, because more likely than not England wasn't looking at him, having to deal with his own side of monsters. "Oh, I am doing quite well, I am thinking. It is just another day in this silly tower, da?" he replied, except it was a slightly different day than normal--a more satisfying day.