Crush'em All.

[anarrowtotheeye]

who. Xiahou Dun (anarrowtotheeye) and whoever who's interested.
what. Dun pisses off a Bloodpack krogan and his mouth lands him into a fight.
where. A quiet area in the Zetta district.
when. February 15th.
warnings. It's a fight, so blood and swearing is a given.

Well he was asking for it, and the Blood Packs delivered. Xiahou Dun was salvaging in an isolated area far from the other residents in the hopes of finding better loot. Instead he gets jumped by a group of Blood Pack members. He should've been more careful but Dun has never been one for what he deems unnecessary precautions. His arrogant attitude has certainly gotten him in trouble now. He's not doing too bad on his own but some help would be appreciated whether it's to help him fight his way out or if it's to give him some first aid/bring him to a doctor because he'll definitely be having quite a few injuries after this. Or maybe you'd just like to watch and pass comment? That's fine by him too, it's not like he needs your help although he wouldn't mind it either!

Comments

[unyieldingly]

Hawke had been making an attempt to lay low while being there, especially with her magic. She could do work with the best of them and she didn't need any spell work to kill someone; she'd scraped her way through a year of indentured servitude being a mercenary once before. But that wasn't what she was interested in doing here. Kurr wasn't offering her anything she wanted. She could avoid all of that.

Until she saw them beating on one of the other refugees, of course.

Call her a bleeding heart, but even if this wasn't her city, she wasn't about to sit by while someone else was being attacked. He seemed to be doing just fine on his own and she could keep out of the way and even hidden while she cast, lurking behind some of the rubble and disarray of the district. All she needed was one well-timed attack. She gestured, bringing her hand up and clenching her fist as she cast a bout of force magic; one of the Krogan was suddenly slammed into the ground out of nowhere, stunning him temporarily.

[anarrowtotheeye]

These krogans were certainly a lot tougher than he thought they'd be. He needed to use two hands to sufficiently block one's punch to his gut, relying instead on his legs to sweep the krogan off its feet. When the alien's on the ground, Dun takes the opportunity to finish it off with a slice of his blade. Unfortunately, his blade got stuck in the krogan's armour. It only takes him a few seconds to yank it out, but he's a few seconds too late to defend himself properly against another attacking krogan. Cursing inwardly, all he can do is steel himself and make a vain attempt to block some of the incoming damage.

So it's a surprise when suddenly the krogan smashes against the ground as if an invisible rock had fallen from the sky and driven the alien to the ground. Not one to waste opportunities, he dispatches the fallen krogan with a downward swing. Carrying on with his momentum, he links his first attack with another sideway slash to a vorcha and follows up with a kick to the head and a slice through the eyes. But even as one vorcha claws at its face and sinks to the ground, screaming in agony, there's at least five vorcha and two krogans left, and Dun's exhausted.

Three vorcha pounce on him and while he can knock two of them away, the first succeeds in pushing him to the wall. The other two advance at that moment, both grabbing his arms and pinning him roughly to the ground. Dun's a bit shaken by the blunt force as his head smashes against the back of the wall, an opportunity one of the krogans use to start charging at him with the force of an incoming train.

[unyieldingly]

Hawke gives a faint smile as he takes full advantage of the opening she's given him, but the expression falls short as he's assailed by opponents on all sides. He's an impressive fighter, she'll give him that, but these mercenaries mean business. Kurr wasn't kidding when he said it was all about the violence.

The next cast needs some pondering and she works on the fly as she tries to get a good shot without exposing herself. Destruction magic is out; it's too obvious and she'll need a clear shot. Besides, no one's going to believe random bouts of fire spouting out of nowhere. It's too risky to use while he's in close proximity of his adversaries. She pulls on her magic and gestures again, this time at the third vorcha. Another thrust of force magic has him being shoved in the way of the krogan's path, the both of them colliding with enough momentum to have them both stumbling.

And, thankfully, that's enough to distract the both of them. The two at Dun's arms look on in surprise, something Hawke takes full advantage of. Exhaling, she grips the one vorcha with her magic and makes an attempt at another strike, flinging it back against the wall.

[anarrowtotheeye]

It's easy enough for Dun to break out of the vorchas' grasps, but he wouldn't have enough time to get out of the way. He wouldn't be able to take one whole charge; his body wouldn't be able to withstand the force. That left two choices: take the hit, probably fall unconscious and die, or activate his musou and hope that the few seconds of invulnerability are enough to weather through the attack. He needs to time it right though; too soon or too late and he'd still catch the brunt of the krogan's attack.

The blue energy starts to swirl around him as the krogan is just a few steps away, but before he successfully carries out the musou the strange force happens again, this time dragging the vorcha out and using it to protect Dun. Then another vorcha goes flying and smacks its head against the wall. It was almost like magic!

Feeling the other's grip on his arm lessen slightly due to surprise, he takes advantage and punches it in the face, freeing himself. Grabbing his sword, he stabs the vorcha with the secondary weapon and pins it to the wall viciously before he goes back to his podao, setting himself upon the still confused krogan and vorcha pair.

[unyieldingly]

Good, there we go. At least he's not standing around like a stunned lemming. Her eyes catch the blue energy that he tries to summon and she pauses, watching. Is he a mage too? No, he's using a sword... Hawke's heard of battle mages, those who can run into battle like a singular force of nature, but he doesn't seem to fit the descriptions. Oh well, there'll be time for speculation later.

She lets him make his stand against the final three, knowing he can probably handle them on his own. The krogan, though, is her chief concern, and so she focuses on him first. Exhaling, Hawke gathers herself for one final bout of magic, hands extending. Her magic is quick to latch onto the krogan, fingers curling as if she's physically grabbed him. Hooking her power in, she casts once more, pulling him into a prison of energy. It's not visible so much as felt, used to slow him down instead of outright trapping him. But the next part is a bit more visceral, as the cage of energy simply collapses and deals more damage as time passes.

Eventually, the krogan is weakened enough that Hawke can let go and give herself a breather. Pushing any further would literally rip the creature apart.

[anarrowtotheeye]

The confused krogan and vorcha were slaughtered without much fuss. The remaining two other vorcha would've been more of a challenge, if not for the fact that the last krogan seemed to be incapacitated by what looks to be the same mysterious force that has been helping him so far. As it is, he takes down the remaining two and turns his full attention to the pitiful beast in front of him. There's no smile on his face, no flicker of triumph as his podao passes through flesh and bone, ending the alien's suffering and the fight.

If he could even call it that now.

He keeps himself alert, eyes and ears open for any signs that could point him the right way; this may be over, but he might not be alone. This strange force had to come from somewhere...

...and when he deduces that somewhere, he immediately flings his sword in that direction. The sword isn't meant to pierce whoever it was who's hiding behind the rubble; rather, it's meant to damage the wall nearby and serve as a warning that this person's presence had not gone unnoticed.

[unyieldingly]

Once she's absolutely certain he can manage without any aid on her part, she leans back against the rubble to breathe. She's done stronger casts without stopping, long battles keeping her from taking the necessary break, but she still needs a moment. She clenches her hands briefly, the tingle of magic still dancing at her fingertips, and she prepares to slip away without any notice.

His sword comes flying and she jumps back at the sound, glancing back at him. He knows she's there. Careful, her hand back and poised to draw her staff, she steps out into he open.

"Is that any way to greet a fellow refugee?" she asks. Staying where she is, she sets her gauntlet-covered hand on her hip. "I'm not going to hurt you."

[anarrowtotheeye]

So this is the mysterious magician.

"A woman...?"

That's surprising. Usually it's the men who are engaged in the more obvious black arts. Women would stick with their straw dolls and curses hoping to curse the concubine/wife and earn more favour from their lord. Either way, he's never had a high opinion of sorcerers; they don't fight fair.

He sticks his podao into the ground and glares at her from a distance. It would be ungrateful of him to attack her but his own experiences with magic have been less than kind. He will not trust any magician, in this lifetime or the next.

"Woman, were those your spells?" he asks in return. "Answer truthfully."

[unyieldingly]

Oh, yes, that's a very good way to introduce yourself.

Hawke keeps her gaze level, her mouth pursed in an attempt to keep herself from snapping. "Yes, serah, a woman. And yes, they were my spells." At least he's familiar with magic and isn't calling her a demon. Better, still, that he doesn't seem like a Templar. She keeps her hands open and doesn't go for her staff, even if he appears aggravated enough.

"I saw you were in trouble and I wanted to help." And that, too, is the truth. "I'd spoken with the...krogan on the network. He didn't seem like someone who played fair to me." An advocate of violence, too. Not a good combination.

[anarrowtotheeye]

'Serah'. That's a term he hasn't heard used before by any of the locals. She seemed human enough, though he couldn't be certain that she was truly one of the other refugees marooned on this planet. It certainly helps that she kept her hands off her weapon but Dun is by nature distrusting of people, especially those who go around casting spells. That might have to do with the last time he spoke with a certain fire-wielding magician who started a country-wide rebellion that nearly toppled the dynasty.

He's still on guard, but he will listen to what she has to say. That's the least he owes her. The word "help" causes him to bristle slightly; he doesn't need the reminder, thank you very much.

"I didn't need your help. I was perfectly capable of taking down those dumb beasts by myself!"

His stance stated and his ego preserved, he ignores the blood that's seeping through his clothes and grabs his blade, keeping it in its sheath. That done he turns and starts to walk off, eager to get back home and deal with his wounds, but Dun is not exactly devoid of gratefulness. He gives the woman a sidelong glance and calls out to her, "But I am thankful for your assistance."

[unyieldingly]

Ah, so he's someone who doesn't like assistance. She should have gathered that. And despite her curiosity and wanting to know what power he has, she lifts her hands in a gesture of supplication and then drops them to her side, never making a move for her weapon. She doesn't need to. His attitude isn't exactly dangerous.

"Of course you were. But would you have only sustained the injuries you have?" Because from where she'd been standing, it might have ended a little worse for him.

As he starts to leave, Hawke gives him a brief nod, then looks concerned. "...Your wounds. I can heal them, if you'd like. Or you can visit Mordin's clinic. He'll help you out." He might charge, too, but she doubts it. Not when so many of them have so little to their name. "I'm glad I lent a hand," she says after some mulling. "Even if you could have handled it on your own."

[anarrowtotheeye]

Although he's walking away from her, his body is still ready to react at a moment's notice. He's confident enough that he can take her down if she turns hostile, which is why he's OK with turning his back on her, but he's not going to make the same mistake twice and allow anyone anymore free shots.

He does stop and laugh when she asks him that question though. There's a cocky smirk on his face as he turns around to address her. "You don't know who you're talking to. I'm no mere recruit, woman. That pathetic ragtag group never stood a chance. I suppose your help granted me a quicker victory, but your help was never needed in the first place."

And as for her second offer of help, he merely waves her off. "I'll stick with the cricket. I don't trust magicians and parlour tricks."

[unyieldingly]

He's going to be a fun one to work with. She can just tell.

"Neither am I. But I also don't go out picking fights with strangers. Especially not in a world as unknown as this one." His clothes don't fool her; he's not native to Omega nor is he like Joker or Mordin, who know the system well enough. He's just as lost as she is, even if he's not going to admit it. "I'm sure you could handle them. But not ambushed in a dark alley where no one would hear a damn thing."

She shrugs lightly. "Suit yourself. And they're not tricks. I can't pull doves out of my furs."

[anarrowtotheeye]

"And what makes you think I can't handle an ambush in the dark?"

Dun shakes his head with disbelief; the nerve of some people. He's the best fighter in Wei, better than the Five Great Generals and his lord's bodyguards. He might be lacking in strategy but he makes up for it with his deadly skill in martial arts.

This conversation is over; in his opinion all this woman wanted to do was enforce her importance in the fight, but Dun's sure that he would've been OK by himself. It might've taken him a few minutes longer, but he'd have finished it, no sweat. Dun is out of here.