New Blood Bracket: Gordie vs. Inkfinger

[Gordie]

In front him, in front of the table, stood an 18" tall tabby, blonds and blacks seeming to patch together the fur in great clumps. Bottlebrush stopped to watch the drunkard, elation and primal rage sprawled across his feline face; judging by display of fear and alarm, he could see that the coward finally understood his precarious situation.

With an abrupt snarl, the cat's body suddenly began to twist gruesomely and change. A chainmail shirt burst from his skin. The fur parted as it receded towards the top of his head, exposing the blood-drenched iron links. The shapeshifter rose up on his hind legs as his flesh and bone expanded painfully outwards. His forelegs lengthened and grew into arms as his forepaws expanded and sprouted fingers. His hind legs lengthened and shed thier fur. The black fur on his rear paws became leathery and separated from his skin, becoming actual boots.

With a flick of his wrist, and a small measure of concentration, Bottlebrush brought forward another of his daggers, the twin blades of energy growing menacingly from his right hand. The coruscating energy of the flourescent teal dagger only served to make the incorporeal weapon more menacing.

The small shapeshifter examined his prey, and mentally noted that, while he did have the naginata in hand again,a sharp blow to the haft or head of the polearm would probably sever the dangerous pointed end from the rest of the weapon. Knowing this, he merely waited for his opponent to respond to his "sudden" appearance.

[Inkfinger]

Cael watched in uneasy alarm as the ragbag moggie between him and the table (and, more importantly, the door) took a step forward. The alarm spiked as the cat changed, body shifting unpleasantly to reform the familiar shape of the bartender.

Gods, that looks painful. No matter how many different beings Cael had met who could change their shape, it always unnerved him. There was something unnatural about bone and flesh being twisted, split and misshapen into something different.

He glowered to hide the fear, one hand shifting on the naginata as he tucked the steak knife into his belt with the other, gravy slimy against his fingers. "Oh, now, that's really cheating!" He growled aloud, taking a step back, sliding into a fighting crouch, naginata at the ready.

The bartender just smirked, the expression one step separated from a hunting wildcat. There was no mercy, no understanding, behind the predatory glow in his green gaze, but he didn’t really move. It was as he was waiting for something, some action or single that would send him into motion. Fiery light traced up and down the twin blades of the knife that had reappeared in his hand.

Cael swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the door wavering behind him and the upturned table. That door was the only way out, unless he wanted to try for one of the windows, and in his experience, the glass in tavern windows was almost always tougher than he expected it to be. That would have to be a last ditch attempt…

Something shattered behind him in an explosive clamor of pottery and glassware. He didn’t know what, but the unexpected sound galvanized him into sudden motion, the naginata’s blade sweeping out in a half-practiced, half-graceful sweep aimed to slide beneath the bartender’s guard and slice a shallow gash up the cat-man’s right arm. Hopefully it’d be enough to make him lose his second dagger…

[Gordie]

Bottlebrush watched in nearly slow motion as the drunkard attacked. The sweeping attack left him alot of time to block. Without realizing, bottlebrush brought the blades to block, and, for a moment, the shapeshifter actually thought the Naginata had been blocked. To his dismay, of course, the broken head of the blade continue on its course, and left a long gash down the outside of his left arm.

'Ouch!' Thought Bottlebrush as he reeled from the blow. 'Another inch and I would have lost an arm!' He glanced over at the surprised drunkard before looking back at his own left arm. The gash started about mid-bicep, and you could clearly see the muscle underneath. It wasnt two deep, though, because Bottlebrush still could flex his left hand.

With a renewed rage, Bottlebrush whipped himself into a frenzy, attacking with blow after blow, keeping his opponent off guard as the other man tried desparately to fend off every attack with his, now headless, naginata. The exertion, though was costing him, and bottlebrush knew that if he didn't get through his opponents defences soon, that he never would. With this knowledge he threw every ounce of energy left into a lunge towards his opponent's gut.

[Inkfinger]

The naginata snapped on the grooves the bartender’s blades had scored. Cael bit back a startled curse as his weapon went lighter; the blade still hitting flesh, even disconnected. It wasn’t where he’d intended, however - the bartender still clutched his wicked knife.

Cael made a dive for the naginata’s blade, one he aborted sharply when the bartender lunged for him. It took every ounce of his fading concentration and half-remembered practice to fend off the small, agile blade. Each time he parried, the blade chipped new splinters in the shaft; each time he shifted his grip he gained new splinters in his sweaty palms.

His opponent was flagging, blood dripping from his arm, but Cael was feeling the effects of the unwanted fight as well; in the burning strain of his bad leg, in the sweat stinging in the slashes down his side, in the throbbing behind his eyes. His feet were slipping in the mess that had started this whole thing, smearing inky black ashes on the woodwork. He took a wide step to the left, blocked a frenetic slash that would have bit deep into his forearm –

-and promptly had his feet slip out from under him. He went down hard, gasping for breath, but the fall may have saved his life. The lunge that would have hit his stomach slashed past his face as he fell, slicing through cheek, short-shorn hair and part of his ear all in one go, barely missing his eye. He let out a pained yelp, half scream, half squawk; barely noticing the face-full of iron chainmail from his over-committed opponent that hit him right after.

He landed flat on his back, one hand still clenched tight around the naginata’s shaft. His head banged the ash-and-beer stained floor hard enough that he saw stars and, for one terrifying moment, nothing but blackness. His vision, abruptly, cleared - it didn’t help much, though, he was down, still staring at a time-blackened ceiling. He pressed his free hand to his cheek, trying to stem the sudden, dirty-hot sting of fresh blood as he glared at the bartender…currently sprawled on his chest.

Not again.

The fear and the pain that realization brought were all too close, too strong, and he found his breath coming in short, shallow, panicked gasps that no matter how he tried he couldn’t slow. He ground his teeth together, forcing himself to look the other in the eye, to actually move instead of just laying there and whimpering.

"Get off. Now."

It took all of his willpower not to add a begging please.

[Taskmienster]

New Blood Bracket: Gordie vs. Inkfinger!

Gordie
Continuity 2

Setting 3

Pacing 6

Dialogue 5

Action 6

Persona 4

Technique 3

Mechanics 5

Clarity 4

Wild Card 2

Have to dock this, because I have no clue why you were playing a character that was the barkeep instead of your own…


Inkfinger
Continuity 6

Setting 6

Pacing 7

Dialogue 5

Action 7

Persona 6.5

Technique 6.5

Mechanics 8

Clarity 7

Wild Card 6



Scores:

Gordie: 40

Inkfinger: 65

Rewards:

Inkfinger: 860 exp | 150 gold

Gordie: 150 exp | 75 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and Gp added!