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Post by Duma on Aug 28, 2017 20:22:14 GMT -6
Blast!
Duma took a half second to turn his head and look at Vincent. The young man was doing something with one of his weapons. Something that Duma wasn't going to like in a few seconds. Vincent shouted for the seals that bound his weapon to release and increase in power. For a moment he stood in slight awe at it. But, then returned his gaze back to the shambling mass of corpses that threaten to claw the door down. The young hero was going to clear them a path. Duma didn't want that, he wanted to have the monsters come to them in neat little rows that could have been provided by the door and the door frame. Duma gripped his blade and did two more quick slashes. Two more limbs had been severed from their shambling rotting bodies.
"Damn it."
Vincent then ordered Duma to get behind him. Duma did one more slash with his blade and then side stepped behind Vincent. The hero released the full might of his magical blade. Duma had never seen something quite like that before. A large blast of blue light blasted through the door way and obliterated the first few reanimated corpses.
"That's a neat trick. Shame you wasted it too early." Duma spoke as he watched the undead turn the corner from down the hall. Duma didn't have time to worry about what to say next. He knew Vincent was probably a bit winded after expending that much magical energy. That's usually how it worked. He remembered when Mila and his father used to cast magic. And he knew some magical weapons took energy out of their owners, maybe. He really needed to get one of his own at some point, they just seemed so useful.
Duma had to work quickly there were bone walkers coming at them. One was desperate to claw at Duma's legs and the other had just tackled Vincent. Duma thrust his weapon down and sliced at the bone-walker in a rather elegant crescent sort of manuver. He brought up the blade up, then turned his attention to the one on Vincent. Another slash of his blade and took out the arm of the one attacking Vincent.
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Post by Vincent on Aug 29, 2017 12:42:32 GMT -6
Vincent would have congratulated the swordmaster on his peerless fighting and its fluid striking if not for the monster that lay atop of him. He simply could not notice the man's actions. The revenant bit and clawed at him trying to take out his throat. Meanwhile Phoenix Heart had begun to regain a portion of its power and with a faint glow a sizzling of flesh sounded. Monsters felt questionable amounts of pain sure, but it still howled.
Duma, shortly after, severed one of its arms stopping it from clutching so fervently at him and giving Vincent a moment to retaliate. With painstaking effort he managed to reach his dagger from behind himself and plunge it into the monster's neck. Ripping the blade side to side he cut through the spinal bone and left the head all but removed and the monster still. Rolling the body over he stood and ripped his blade free as the mass of crawling bodies got close. "Thanks!" It was a sharply offered one as the hero brought the heel of his boot down onto the monsters' skulls, intent on caving them in.
He managed to fell two of them in such a manner but others were close enough to start grabbing on to him. Fighting aggressively was proving less ineffective and more a battle of attrition, one it was made clear would be won by the monstrosities. The rumors spoke of a four armed beast in these crypts and yet here they were tangling with the common monsters. Vincent was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
Severing limbs from the creatures Vincent retreated up the stairway a few steps to put distance between him and the shambling mass. Though he would not admit to it it would seem that he had used his blade too soon. A moment of observation allowed him the opportunity to count to local monsters. Roughly five crawlers left and... his mouth went ajar as in the doorway was something that fit the description of their target, but instead of rushing in it retreated. It fled from the path and ran deeper into the tomb. Curiosity? Coordination? Vincent could not say but he did not like the looks of it.
Vincent returned to the fight, bringing his blade close to the earth he struck it across the ground and into the face of the monsters. "Duma! Whatever we're after knows were here! And its smart!" Perhaps he saw it too, but best not to assume.
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Post by Duma on Aug 31, 2017 19:58:13 GMT -6
It seemed for every one limb or body he felled two more took its place. The swordsman let out a lofty sigh before taking another stance and slicing through yet another body. His strikes were not wasted. He knew exactly where to hack and slash in order to sever the limbs. This was one of the major differences in battle styles he had over Vincent. The ability to think about his strikes rather than attack with everything all at once.
One hapless undead lunged at him, Duma raised his sword up so that it would protect his torso and face. The living dead collided with the swordsman's trusty blade. The blade left the living dead thing with a split forehead but the dead beast still tried to grab at him with its bony hands. Duma pulled back then shoved forward. The momentum of the sudden lunge pried the dead man off his sword and then he retaliated with another strike. Severing the dead man's skull from its neck. The thing collided into a pile of truly lifeless bones.
"They have the greater numbers, Vincent. We'll be overwhelmed in time." The green clad swordsman spoke. Another set of swift strikes took down another shambling dead man. The swordsman couldn't see what Vincent saw. The supposed four armed monster that served as the leader of the dead. Duma took a few steps back in order to assess what was left of the zombies in the light.
"We aren't going to follow it down the rabbit hole Vincent. It's got to be lured out."
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Post by Vincent on Oct 19, 2017 19:15:34 GMT -6
As Duma spoke some sense about the numerical odds Vincent was reluctant to agree with him but he conceded all the same. "Alright, lets' regroup!" With a flash of his blade he swung a small wave of light at a monster staggering it enough to offer him a clear escape. "Come on!" Vincent bounded upward several steps, mostly ignoring steps in order to climb faster and offering glances back to ensure Duma was safely keeping pace. The monsters were not keen on pursuing too far upwards. While the report stated they wandered the graveyard at night it would seem they were reluctant to go out in the light of day.
As Vincent threw open the crypt's iron gate he breathed in the foul air and began a hacking cough. He nearly doubled over as he tried to get clean air but made due with what he could get. After the two put some cautionary distance between them and the crypt Vincent rested against a large stone statue. With a sigh he looked to Duma. "So, going back down there might be suicide if we don't get more of us... or go quieter... sorry about that." Vincent was all too aware of the fact that his reckless style caused all of that to happen.
Vincent was ready for a revision of their plan and would hear out anything Duma had to say, even if it should be a criticism geared towards himself. "So, any ideas of how to approach this one?"
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Post by Duma on Oct 21, 2017 21:12:06 GMT -6
Duma thanked every god he could think of. Vincent agreed with him. The young man agreed that the best course of action was to retreat and regroup. If he hadn't agreed then the green-topped swordsman would have dragged him out of the tomb himself. The white-haired swordsman did a little more magic with his blade, Duma shook off his straggler, then followed the mercenary up the stairs. The mullet headed swordsman swatted away several cobwebs as he made his way up the steps. He turned around a bit to ensure that there weren't any undead bastards coming up after them.
Vincent pushed the crypt door open and took the first steps outside. Duma was right behind him. Duma coughed a bit. Even with his makeshift mask off he found the sudden transition between dusty dead air and cool fresh air to be a bit overwhelming. he trudged guided Vincent along so that they would be a safe distance away from the crypt. Duma leaned against the statue and ripped off his mask. He shook his head at how grey and dulled his mask had become. There was so much dust in that crypt.
"Going back down there IS suicide Vincent." He spoke in between coughs.
"Quietly or not.. It .. we cannot go in there. We.. need to lure them out. Lure em out during the day and ambush them with a proper militia. Maybe smoke em out with fire. Burn.. it all down. There are other bodies in there.. gods i'd hate to think they find a way to reanimate all those corpses.." He shuddered.
"This.. is.. way over both our heads." He took a moment to stop and breathe.
"Neither of us fight well in cramped close quarters like that. And those monsters have a lay of their underground land." He patted himself down. Everything is in its place.
"Or ambush them when they are above ground on their nightly patrols."
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Post by Vincent on Oct 31, 2017 0:09:15 GMT -6
"I hate to say it but you're right. We can't go back in there like this, we would need an entire force to clear it out." It explained why the graveyard felt so heavy of darkness, there was no telling the depths of that crypt or just what other horrors could be festering beneath their feet. An entombed may just be the smallest of it. The idea sent a shudder through Vincent that made him visibly shake. "Sorry." Vincent rubbed his forehead and face in exhaustion. "I'm sorry." The two of them took a job getting them in over their heads. Vincent was reminded of the last time he had done such a thing. He and Neil became scarred by the conflict.
"Man, I think I have a real knack for making terrible decisions," he laughed bitterly. Vincent's facade began to show cracks, so long as he met with success and could enjoy himself on the fields of battle it was easy to appear confident and make jokes, but times like this it became far more difficult. It reminded him of his failures and the battle for Hero City. He saw so many good men and women die for nothing and then what? he was praised with a foolish title for something he had hardly done alone, yet it seemed as though he were thought to have done it.
Vincent leaned against a statue and shut his eyes. "Duma. We should wait until nightfall as you said... that was the original mission anyway." He felt almost angry and embarrassed to reiterate that fact. He was so ready to go to the monsters he would bypass such a thing. To think he almost got the both of them killed. Vincent collapsed to the ground to rest. Producing a flask of water he drank deeply though with care, given what he was just handling in corpses. He offered Duma a drink before staring out on his own mind.
Duma did not know that Mila lived. Vincent had sworn to keep that secret for her but more and more it felt so wrong. He had fought alongside Duma and challenged him to battle as well and called him friend but what did he truly know of the swordsman? What meaningful friendships had he allowed himself to foster since Neil's death? He was just being scared of loosing someone else, again, but the void was beginning to eat him alive. "Duma, since we have time before nightfall, would you like to just talk for a time? We have crossed paths several times now and I call you friend, but we know far too little of one another."
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Post by Duma on Nov 2, 2017 20:20:17 GMT -6
"I'm glad you agree. Had you not I would have knocked you out and dragged you back to town." He spoke with a semi-serious tone. He then shook out the excess dust out of his makeshift mask then shoved it into one of his pockets. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath in then let it out. The warm air that left his body condensed in the cooler cemetery air and gave a sort of smokey effect. He could smell it in the air. The scent of dark magic. The scent was buried under other smells too like mist, dust, and mold. But, he knew the smell, as faint as it was. He knew the scent cause it smelled like his uncle minus the scent of wine or sweet bourbon.
"My fault for not stopping you sooner." He responded to Vincent's comment about making terrible decisions. He took the flask he was offered and took a long sip. He was careful not to finish the canteen. He returned the flask back to its white-haired owner.
"The moon should be full tonight." He took a seat next to Vincent.
"We should have enough light to see. I wouldn't mind setting up some torches just in case." Even though he just said that the swordsman brought his knees close to his chest. The fatigue was hitting him.
"Well, what would you like to know?" He turned his head so he could face Vincent. Part of him tried to guess what his first question would be. Most people who meet him tend to ask about the scar first or of his abilities. Few ever ask of his origins or upbringing.
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Post by Vincent on Nov 4, 2017 16:56:17 GMT -6
"And I would expect no less of you for it." Vincent grinned as Duma threatened him to force him away from the battlefield. Duma had a good sense of preservation about him, he was no coward but neither was a madman or fool when it came to the battlefield. Vincent had spent years battling a coward's instinct to flee and in turn he often cast aside his own safety for it.
"I see no fault in it, the two of us made it out and more of those demons are dead for it. Though, I wonder how long they take to be reborn, or if they are truly destroyed. Perhaps we should start to burn the bodies of the dead." Vincent sighed, he, unlike Mila, was no researcher but a fighter when it came to monsters. He did not even know where to begin when it came to learning about the monsters, but what if they could capture one? What if the two captured the entombed? Now was not the time to propose it, maybe after the two had chatted a bit longer.
How much should Vincent hint to Mila? Could he use her code name of Clover without it tipping him off too much? "Well, something I would like to know is what brought you into this world of mercenaries and monster hunting? Why do you continue to fight with all these things out here?" Some did it for glory, others for gold, and some for far more uniquely personal reasons, but Duma almost seemed a wandering blade that just acted. But was he?
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Post by Duma on Nov 4, 2017 20:46:08 GMT -6
"Perhaps burning them would be the best course of action. But neither of us have the manpower or the supplies to burn them all. Perhaps only burning the leader of the monsters maybe it would be enough. Of course, we have to kill it first. And that's IF it even decides to go topside." He could feel it all starting to wear down on him. The heaviness of it all, of this place.
"Why am I in this business? I grew up in a mercenary group. We did jobs like this all the time. Except it was against bandits instead of monsters." He closed his eyes for a bit and remembered of his childhood. Of his mother, father, aunt, and uncles. He remembered his "cousin". Who was an adult now with a budding family of her own. At least he thought so, he hadn't really contacted home in a few months. And the war made it harder for him to do so even if he wanted.
"I don't.. really do things with a purpose. There is barely any family for me to return too. I lack a proper home. I just wander and do what work is needed of me. Sometimes the job is successful. Other times it is not. But, this village needed help, I have a sword, and they have resources I need." He thought for a moment.
"It's rare for me to meet people.. consistently. But, our paths seem to keep crossing.. so that might mean something to some sort of higher cosmic power." He asked.
"What of you? How did the heel cutter get into this life style?" He wasn't quite sure if Vincent ever sat down and told him his story. And even if he did, he probably forgot it by now. So many new experiences and memories pushed out older ones. Save for the few precious ones he forced himself to keep in his mind. Like his childhood and his sword training.
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Post by Vincent on Nov 6, 2017 23:55:15 GMT -6
It was a rather vague answer after all, but was it dodging around the whole truth? Probably, Vincent decided, but he was not going to bother prying or outright harassing the swordsman about it. No home, why? Why not try settling down? Was he religious after all? These and other questions were abound though it would seem it was Vincent's turn to speak. Perhaps if he was more forthcoming with details then Duma too would be so inclined.
Vincent shifted and got himself comfortable. He placed his blade in his lap and raised his left leg so his arm could rest on his knee. "Well, its, surprisingly dull." To him at least. "Back when I was a kid, I was the most timid and unreliable farm brat. Local boys made fun of me for 'looking like a girl' and having long hair. That said, I had a best friend by the name of Ash. He was like a big brother to me. He always had a habit of protecting me and looking out for me." His face suddenly grew grim.
"When we were seventeen though he made the decision that he wanted to go make his name as a mercenary. I told him he was crazy but he insisted. Well, when I finally came to terms with the fact that he was indeed serious I decided to go with him. Thus I got my early start as a mercenary just trying to keep him safe." He chuckled to himself about it. As selfless and whimsical a reason as could be.
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Post by Duma on Nov 13, 2017 18:16:34 GMT -6
"I can sympathize with long hair making you look like a girl." He rubbed a hand through his messy green locks, then sighed softly. His hair and his swordplay were his life's project. He was fond of it. He remembered the days that his mother would sit him down and comb out all the tangles. They would chat as she worked and it was a bit of a bonding moment for them. Sometimes Mila would jump in and Duma would brush the tangles out of her hair while mom brushed his. Duma paused for a moment as he let Vincent finish his story. He studied his reaction to certain points in the story. He took note that Vincent's face took a slightly darker turn as he spoke about setting out on his journey. And judging by the fact Vincent usually traveled alone, he could assume what had happened to his friend. The same to what happened to him and Mila.
"You remind me of me growing up. Save for the farmboy lifestyle. But, life as a mercenary was pleasant. It had it's ups and downs. But.. we always.. did things together. Until.." He shook his head.
"Stuff.. happened. I broke away from my family sometime.. during my seventeenth.. maybe eighteenth year. A little bit after my folks died. And.. somewhere in between Eturia's sudden religious fanaticism. My twin sister had a job with the Eturian academy. Lost her during one of their research trips." He kept his gaze up to the sky. He wasn't comfortable talking about Mila or how he lost her. The cave in not only cost her his sister. But, the whole rest of her scholarly group. Her friends. People he knew. He remembered the villagers, and the mercenaries, how they dug out the mutilated bodies of those people from out of the tomb. People that he shared breakfast with that day.
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Post by Vincent on Nov 13, 2017 23:08:22 GMT -6
"I'm sorry to... to hear that." Vincent clenched his fists, Mila was alive, and she knew Duma was alive, and yet she refused to make contact with him... it all just seemed so wrong to him. Why did she not want to see him? Vincent could see the guilt on the swordmaster's face and it filled him with guilt in turn. 'Blast it all Vincent!' Internally he screamed at himself feeling a sickening hollowness in his chest.
Vincent pushed the thoughts out of his mind, Mila had her reasons and he should not betray her confidence, but next they met he MUST speak with her about this. He felt a need to convince her to reveal herself in some way.
But talking about long hair looking like a girl? Vincent looked at the scarred swordsman and found it hard to believe he would be seen as a girl... ever. But then again, Vincent highly doubted anyone would make the same mistake about himself at this point so perhaps they followed a similar pattern. "I'm sorry for your loss... but, I think a tragedy like that would have been easier than what I fell into." He dared not say such a thing as that lightly, no tragedy should be made as something inconsequential and he did not mean to imply as such.
"Ash had grown tired of our old life and without my realizing it he grew to resent me as well... Without my knowing it he had teamed up with a group of bandits that had falsely attacked us, we were separated and I later learned he sold me out in order to go through an initiation. My whole reason for originally leading this life had tried to kill me." He laughed bitterly. "Of course by the time I learned that truth I had found new reasons to keep fighting. Friends to avenge, people to protect, and... I guess a sword to prove myself to. Not the most noble of reasons when I really lay it all out like that." In fact, he still wanted to get even with Ash, it was a fight he long held dormant in his mind but one day he was going to let him know why he should not have betrayed his friends and village. Just as soon as he could find him.
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Post by Duma on Nov 19, 2017 17:48:47 GMT -6
"Tragedy brings out the best or the worst of people. Some people fall into the depths of despair with no hope for life. Other rise above that heartache and continue on. It's been about five years since the incident. I think.. I rose above it don't you think?" He asked with a bit of a smirk.
"Betrayed by your best friend. I'm so sorry. But, At least.. from the sound of it.. your former friend is alive? You can at least.. get some answers." He closed his eyes for a moment. Is.. losing a twin really just as hard as being betrayed by your best friend? He reflected briefly on Vincent's words about what he had learned. What he had done. It was different from his own ordeals. Vincent had found his own answers for walking down his own path. But, what path did Duma walk? He never put much thought into it before. With his wandering lifestyle he never really had a sense of purpose. Sure, he always sought to improve on his swordsmanship. But, that didn't quite feel the same as wanting to prove yourself to an ancient magic weapon. Swordsmanship was just the best thing he knew how to do, and it was a skill that helped pay the bills. He just took his skills and went wherever the wind took him. He helped people when they needed it. He took jobs where he could find them.
"For what it's worth. I think your reasons are noble enough. Wanting to strengthen yourself.. to defend your friends.. to prove to another that you can do it.. whatever it may be." He smiled softly.
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Post by Vincent on Nov 21, 2017 11:30:33 GMT -6
As Duma finished his piece Vincent smiled softly. "Back when I was a boy on the farm my mother would tell me about my father, he was a mercenary and left home when I was still too young to remember him, and well, she would tell me," He began using an elderly voice, "Vincent, you have that same look in your eyes as your daddy! An intense kindness that masks a berserker deep down. I feel sorry for the man that makes you snap into action!"
"She would tell me this anytime I got beat up by bullies or cried... I used to think she was just saying these things to make me feel better, to toughen me up with kindness or something... but that is when I learned some hard truths. When I hit bottom in life, I let that berserker out and acted like a violent madman." Vincent removed his headband and showed his scar for Duma to see. "Not only is it just an ugly scar but I got this because I acted harshly and began to beat a man for answers. He retaliated well..."
Vincent shook his head before putting it back on. "I think tragedy brings all of us to our lowest point, but to pull oneself out of it is the real sign of strength. For me that low point was rage and vengeance, and it led me to more pain and loss. I stopped getting close to people and became strictly a solo act. Plus I could never properly understand the voice of my blade." He sighed. "I think the dark is different for everyone though, and only they themselves can come to understand it, recognize it and rise above it."
Vincent did not like how his words would sound but he hoped Duma would understand he came from a place of kindness. "I don't know if you have risen above your dark place, but I can safely say you've learned to keep moving and to make the most of it." He smirked. "Ya know, do you ever get tired of traveling? You ever want to just go home and place waiting for you?"
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Post by Duma on Nov 26, 2017 20:08:00 GMT -6
So that's what was under the headband. Duma mused to himself as he glanced at Vincent's scar. The young champion's scar was not as obvious as Duma's. Probably due to the fact that unlike his own scar, Vincent was probably hit by a regular weapon. Duma was hit by a magic one.
"Scar's serve to remind us of our pasts. Be that past one full of victories or mistakes. I got mine during my childhood. I tried to stop a man from taking my sister and was hit with a magic blade. Nearly died." I was nearly left blind too. He would never forget the look on his parent's faces when the bandages were finally removed and he told them he could still see. He shook his head slightly then sighed.
"Being a one-man show is.. impossible." He spoke from experience.
"I.. learned that the hard way. I was a wreck when I lost my sister. I closed myself away from people. Until, people came to help me. They were strangers at first.. but then they became family. I learned.. that people need each other to overcome despair and achieve things. I learned that in my travels. I've been helped by several people and in turn, I have helped them." He spoke of the tribe that took him in when he wandered the Sacean plains like a madman. Back when he was at a loss for what to do or how to do it. And the only thing he had in his head was that he wanted to get away from all things that reminded him of her. He wanted to get away from the Eturia that raised them. Away from the Nabatan wastes that took her. Away from people who looked anything remotely like her. And now.. that he thought about it.. fleeing to the land of the rolling green plains.. to the land where green hair was considered a blessing by many.. maybe.. that wasn't the best place to go when trying to forget your fellow green haired twin.
"I've never put much thought into settling down. And even if I were to find a wife and live somewhere quiet. I don't think I could ever give up the way of the warrior. There would always be something that would cause me to pick up my blade and go fighting again. And it will probably bring me to my death." He gave Vincent a small smirk.
"How about you? You've got an eye on someone you looking to settle down with? Perhaps go back home with your heel cutter fame?" He then pulled himself up off the floor and offered Vincent his hand. He waited to hear Vincent's response before talking again.
"I enjoyed this chat. But, if we want to continue it later. We need to prepare for nightfall."
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