towerofanimus | not interested in deep conversations

[lkjsdf jerks to the side, watching the rubble ping against the wall before turning an irritated look back to the Highblood. He is once again wishing he had a lance... or any weapon. Hhhh, then it would feel less like a deathwish if he went after this guy]

Why...! Getting tired?

HAH. Do I look motherfucking TIRED TO YOU? Can't you all tell? I'm just motherfucking impatient, brother. SEE, I JUST CAN'T BE STANDING THOSE MOTHERFUCKING MIRACLE WINGS. [Another rock flies across the room with a ZING sound towards the Summoner.]

I was being motherfucking careful before, not to be all crushing them in my fists... BUT WHEN YOU FALL INTO MY MOTHERFUCKING CLUTCHES NEXT, your wings are the first things to go. Some miracles just aren't MEANT TO STAY, MOTHERFUCKER.

[This one catches his shoulder despite trying to dodge it, and he drops several feet in pain, before his wings wake up again and get him up where he's safeish. God... dammit, he needs to figure how to approach this before one breaks his wings @_@]

[So he starts... bobbing around the room. Not flying especially fast, but but fast enough, shifting levels constantly as he moves from corner to corner. And that... AWW PRESHUS look is back B3]

Are they genetic anomalies, or miracles? Black or red, Highblood! I know it's rough, but you gotta share me with three other quadrants...!

Why-- [He picks up a particularly sharp stake-like piece and rolls it around in his hand.] --the motherfuck can't it be BOTH? Genetic anomalies that are all so motherfucking rare that they're miracles, as well. MIRACLES THAT SHOULDN'T BE ALL GROWING OUT OF YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BACK, because that look just ain't for motherfucking shitbloods like you. SHIT LIKE THAT HAPPENS MORE THAN WE MOTHERFUCKING KNOW. It's just all kinds of unfortunate that I got to be all caught in the middle of that motherfucking nonsense, you know?

[aaaaand just gonna ignore the bit about quadrants though, and with a grunt, he flings the piece like an arrow. It's less likely to hit the Summoner while he's flying around like that though, so he doesn't exactly have high hopes of hitting him right now.]

[...yeah it goes crashing off against the wall way above him, and he laughs a little as if mocking that terrible aim. Also, the Highblood may or may not notice that his circle is getting slowly slowly slowly closer and lower, centering on him. It is quite subtle, but it's definitely there]

[Also also? Scoffing] You didn't have to be caught in the middle if you didn't want. You're high enough. You could've got a ship and sailed off into space, never talked to, anyone you didn't want to ever again. [He only got two choices, dude, so don't you even try to bitch at him about having to do the job that you picked out]

[His lips curl back into a sneer, though it's not as mean as he meant it to look. It's sort of a conflicted look, if anything. Also, don't think he doesn't notice the circling, but it's not like he can really do anything about that right now...]

NAH, MOTHERFUCKER. You can't even begin to be all understanding that shit. Can't just up and motherfucking leave, motherfucker. WHEN THE MESSIAHS SAY STAY, YOU MOTHERFUCKING STAY, YOU HEAR? I am motherfucking loyal to be all bringing in the Vast Honk closer, motherfucker, so there ain't not damn shortcuts to be all had. NO MOTHERFUCKER WHOM CARRIES AROUND THE SUBJUGGLATOR TITLE TAKES MOTHERFUCKING SHORTCUTS WHEN I'M ALL AROUND. [raaaant mode]

[Jesus... does this douchebag hear voices? He doesn't really know a lot about the Subjugglators whole... thing. That's really the province of the information guys, and they only tell him the stuff he needs to know, and what he needs to know is purple + white facepaint is A Bad Thing]

[So he's quiet for a second, and maybe he slows down a little in the air... God, what is he even doing with this]

Who's telling you to stay again...?

[He barely spares the Summoner a glance, all caught up in his random thoughts and shit. He just hears questions and he instinctively answers, suddenly feeling a surge of emotions, mixture of anger, despair, exhilaration... it's quite complicated, really!]

Weren't you even all motherfucking listening to a single piece of shit that I all have been spewing out at in your MOTHERFUCKING GENERAL DIRECTION? They talk of death and despair for those who do not motherfucking obey, and that's all motherfucking FINE AND HONKYDORY ALLRIGHT, SEE, BUT WE ARE HIGHER THAN ALL OF YOU. We've been handplucked, bred to perfection, to carry out the motherfucking cullings as they wish! THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS GET THEIR HARSH ON ABOUT THE DETAILS, AS THEY RAISE THEIR VOICES AND BE TELLING US ALL WHAT THE FUCK TO BE DOING--

[He grabs a particularly large piece of table and hurls it at the Summoner, who's drawing in closer and closer.]

--And no motherfucker gets in the way, BECAUSE IF THEY DO, THEY PAY THE TOLL. THE TOLL TO THE NEXT WORLD WHERE THEY CONTRIBUTE THEIR SOUL TO ACT THE ROLE OF FUEL. They are just pieces of the motherfucking puzzle, brother. YOU ARE A PIECE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING PUZZLE. So worthless is your fucking soul in the land of the living, BUT DEAD? You are all being of use as a dead fucking thing.

[At this point, he's not even really talking about the Summoner , exactly. Just "you" in a general sense. He's been gesturing wildly throughout this entire thing, and despite his lack of focus, he's actually quite in tune with his surroundings.]

[wat how did he... know when he's ramblinglsjlfj Has to jerk up high again and off to the side to dodge the piece of table. Fuck you, you screwed up his circle!!!]

But everyone just comes back to life here. So why are you still killing people... [Clearly that means their souls aren't going anywhere, right??? This is way too complicated a belief system, honestly, he's a soldier and a farmer, he don't got time for this shit. Even if he is terribly curious baww]

[The highblood suddenly stopped talking. He just seemed to have run out of juice, and his arms fell down to his sides as he stared off into space. Spacing out, if you will.]

That's the motherfucking question, now isn't it? CAN'T JUST QUIT IT, YOU KNOW? They still be saying shit like we gotta keep doing what we've always been motherfucking doing... [His voice grows hoarse from shouting so much earlier, and it gradually just gets quieter.] Shit's confusing is all what it motherfucking is, but I am the Grand Highblood, the most motherfucking loyal to the mirthful messiahs.

[welp... sorry, man, he's actually interested in all of this despite himself, but...]

[Wait no. No, he's not sorry at all HAHA space out in the middle of a fight and you get what's coming to you! So he drops out of the air, immediately diving at a bit of sharp, broken table he's been eyeing for a little while now, grabbing it and speeding as fast as he can at the Highblood. He stays low to the ground, glad everything's been wrecked so thoroughly cause otherwise this'd be a mess with his horns...]

[Speaking of which, before he finds a place to stick this makeshift weapon here, he's aiming to catch the Highblood by back of the knee with said ridiculous horns. Maybe knock him over first...!]

[How unfortunate for the highblood. Spacing out is a pretty big weakness, you know! The Summoner probably never had the pleasure of listening to him talk of his religion before meeting him in the tower, thus never seeing him space out so easily... but you only get lucky once.

The highblood manages to see the Summoner charging at him with those motherfucking huge ass horns out the corner of his eye and braces himself when the horns knock against the back of his legs which sends him crashing to the ground with a slur of curses. Now that the inevitable has happened, he prepares to react to whatever the Summoner was planning on next!]

Edited 2011-12-12 08:48 (UTC)

[Well first there's a sort of awkward detangling process, one which he manages relatively quickly mostly because he don't give a shit about the Highblood and is totally fine with slicing his leg open with the point of his horn if he has to]

[But then he's on his feet again, and... well he'd really like to pin this douchebag but that's not exactly practical given their size difference. So he goes after mobility instead, attempting to grab the Highblood's knee and slam his table piece into the meatier bits just above it]

[The highblood grins with wild abandon.

Even when the thrashing set of horns scrape at one of his calves, he pays it no mind and quickly gets to his feet as the Summoner does. It's only natural that smaller creatures would not go for the more straightforward approach, so he's ready when the Summoner aims for his knee. He lets him.

And motherfuck that hurts, but his movements do not falter even when he lets out a pained roar through his maniacal laughter. He grabs what he had been planning to grab for a while now (not the wings) and wraps huge fights around the Summoner's large horns to bring the shorter troll's face down to smash it against his rising, uninjured knee.]

[Ugh fuck, getting hit in the face will never be a pleasant experience will it. His nose is probably broken again UGH]

[Makes a pained, choking kind of sound, flailing for the bit of wood. Being disoriented is hard! But once his hand hits it, he twists it out of the Highblood's knee, moving to stick it in this uninjured leg here instead]

[HE'S AIMING FOR YOUR BULGE NEXT IF YOU DON'T LET HIM GO, JACKASS]

[He growls, baring his teeth in a horrible expression, the pain finally registering after all that adrenaline coursing through his body. Before the stick can drive through his uninjured leg, he shoves the Summoner back hard, and limps back a few yards. He can still move, but fuck, it hurts.

Breathing heavily, he assesses the damage and the bit of space between them. He doesn't want to give the Summoner too much time to recover, but he's in no hurry.]

[Thank goodness, even if that means he goes stumbling quite gracelessly away, almost falling over in his disorientation. He definitely needs the break! His face is throbbing THIS IS TERRIBLE. Grips onto the edge of a broken table for support, blinking, trying to clear his head as quickly as he can]

[He's also... laughing... in little short bursts, low, kind of manic, teeth bared. After a second, the blood on his makeshift spear catches his eye, and he... wraps his hand around the tip.... It comes away purple and wet, and he wipes that hand across one cheek. Highblood warpaint. Seems appropriate. He has never fought the Highblood so personally before!]

[And then he's just... flipping the other troll off with the hand still coated indigo, tapping the tip of the spear against the ground, quick tempo and frantic. Come on then, toro toro etc]

[The gesture makes his blood boil, and his grin only stretches wider until his face is creased into a horrific display. He can feel his heart race, in time with the clanging tapping sound that reverberates within the room. His blood-red eyes blink frantically, and he suddenly darts to one side to snatch up a flat piece of wood -- a badly cracked table top -- and with little difficulty, he snaps it in two. Two make shift paddles with sharp jagged edges. Not too different from his usual weapon of choice.

His purple blood is smeared across the lowblood's face. How dare he!!! That's motherfucking precious fluids right there, and it angers him further to see that none of this shitblood's blood has been spilled. He plans to remedy this problem soon enough.

With both arms down by his sides, he stops and claws at the ground with his good leg and roars. A battle cry, as he charges towards the Summoner and takes a test swing at him.]

Don't you all motherfuckin' DARE AND GO TRY TO FLY AWAY, MOTHERFUCKER!

[Oh no no no, we're past that now. No, instead he waits, tap tap tapping the ground until--]

[The Highblood gets close enough, and, much like the torero referenced in the previous tag, he dips under the first swing, moving towards the Highblood's bad side and aiming his spear into his side]

[His grip tightens on the slightly tapered edges of his weapons and shifts his body to one side, the tip grazing his skin. The shallow cut seeps out a lot of blood, and it streaks his entire side a dark shade of royal indigo.

Enraged, like a tortured bull, he swings a paddle down like an axe and attempts to smash the spear. If he gets an entire arm though, he's certainly not complaining.]

[ah ah AH FUCK, he's lucky enough to see it before it hits, but not enough that he can pull away before the paddle scrapes open the back of his hand as he retreats]

[And worse, the brunt of the force does indeed catch the spear, knocking it out of his hand and snapping it apart against the ground]

[There's blood welling up in the cracked skin of his hand, find its way out and into the spaces between his fingers. He clenches his fist though, keeping it from dripping onto the ground as he searches through the wood pile for another stick long enough and sharp enough to serve. His wings have started their shimmering, careful movement, trying to distract the Highblood again while he looks]

[God damn it, Summoner...!!! The wings catch his eye for a moment and his eye color seems to flicker back and forth from orange to red, captivated by its beauty once more. But he snaps out of his trance quick enough and bounds after his enemy, wanting to keep him at a disadvantage for a little longer.

He keeps his eyes on the wings this time, despite it being extremely distracting.]

You know what, brother? [He suddenly asks in the middle of his running, his voice shaky and interrupted by heavy breathing. It's relatively calm though, like he just decided to start up a casual conversation.]

[WH... AT... WHY ARE YOU TALKING IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT YOU DOUCHEBAG]

[He's startled enough that it takes him a second to snap back and start running, trying to dodge around him and get... over there... where the wood pickings are better!!!]

What?!

[HEY IT WORKED DIDN'T IT? >;oD

He picks up his speed without using flash stepping. It seems talking and fighting comes pretty naturally to the highblood. With a grunt, he chucked one of his paddles at the Summoner like a frisbee on the course for destruction!]

I THINK I GOT THIS SHIT FIGURED OUT. I know what I all gotta motherfucking do.

[THIS IS SO UNPROFESSIONAL GOSH HIGHBLOOD]

Great...!

[He don't really care though, seeing how he has to move as fast as his poor body will go, trying to stay low and get under the frisbee paddle. It still catches the top of his horn though, slamming him the fuck over. And now it's a mad scramble to get back to his feet and get the hell away before the Highblood catches him]

[Between the continued pain in his face, the way his head is still spinning and now trying to coordinate himself in a slippery pile of wood, FOR SOME REASON HE DOES NOT THINK HIS CHANCES ARE VERY GOOD...]

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