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Futuristic 𝔸𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 | IC
- Thread starter Slav
- Start date
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- Tags
- futuristic semi-sandbox
Jhin
Four!
FILCH
MEDIEVAL MEDIC
CasualTea
[ 404 ]
"Fascinating human behavior..." She mumbled to herself. "What was that?" A girl with blonde hair and emerald eyes asked. "Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself. You can head back to the Core now. I think I'll be here awhile." The lady with horns said as she waved the other girl off. "Alright, just call if you need a ride." She said before heading off on her motorbike and driving back towards the Core.
She was getting stares from others that would discriminate but it wasn't because they assumed her to be an Unwanted. No, they knew she was from the Core. With the way she dressed and carried herself. If there were some who knew about her, they would know she's actually a pretty famed doctor as she had already visited Zernos before and made some miraculous feats in the medical field. She was mainly known for healing others in their wonderful ailments. She was now at the stadium, where she heard there would be much carnage and destruction. Now why would a doctor who healed many want to visit such a place? The simple answer would be to heal whoever got hurt, no?
Actually, she was just here to observe. To study Zernos culture. While in the Core, she can deduct their culture and traditions because they're in a more technologically advanced stature than Zernos. Everything could be linked digitally. But in Zernos, there's only blots of it which paves way for large gaps of information. She visits Zernos primarily for this reason. Healing is just a side job to gain more popularity with its people so she can move around more freely.
Once she entered the stadium with little to no effort, she was met with the loud roars and cheers of the crowd. Of course, it wasn't for her. It was for the main upcoming event. "Truly fascinating..." She mumbled to herself once more. She studied plenty about the humans' history and concluded that they were a pretty violent race. War being something the humans are very fond of. The Destruction Derby, seeming to awake an instinct in every human from what she deduced. Pure chaos. She looked around and definitely saw many who armed themselves with weapons. She also saw one individual with a thermal kit on his rifle.
She didn't see it as much of a threat so she decided to not do anything about it. But it begged her a question. Perhaps she herself should be armed? Under her coat, she formed her hand as if she were holding a pistol. Using data and symbols, her Aether Chip inside of her started to form a physical entity of the pistol she envisioned. It was a large revolver with a heavy and long barrel. She saw it in Zernos' market and thought it would be a good shell for her weapon if she were to get into a fight. She needed something she can use with one hand but delivery a very powerful blow. Knowing that explosive munitions were in the humans' technological capabilities, she knew how to program her weapon in order to be just as effective as she is in Velikan, or what the humans know it as Koschei-VII.
Although it was pretty heavy on her thigh so she made a couple of edits under her coat to lighten the weight of it, using her Aether Chip to manifest a holographic screen under it to allow her to make such edits. She looked at the individual's thermal kit and ran some tests in her head. After some results, she also made a couple more edits so that her coat would conceal her gun from thermals until it was brought outside.
A moment later, she felt a hand slap her rear as a burly male had approached her. "Heeey, little lady. How about you come with me? We can enjoy each other's company while watching the derby? Well, maybe you might have more fun doing something for me while I enjoy it." He said as he laughed. Aozalea had studied this type of behavior and it was quite understandable. Of course, species have an instinct to mate or seek pleasure and he was no exception. Unfortunately for him, she was in no such mood. She just smiled at him before typing really quick on the screen under her coat and tinkered with his brain to feel... nauseous. After the effects were implemented, he felt it immediately and rushed off to the restroom or to wherever he could puke while saving his dignity.
She then sighed and shook her head as she returned her attention to the center of the stadium, waiting for the destruction to come next. Either that or another person to bother her.
She was getting stares from others that would discriminate but it wasn't because they assumed her to be an Unwanted. No, they knew she was from the Core. With the way she dressed and carried herself. If there were some who knew about her, they would know she's actually a pretty famed doctor as she had already visited Zernos before and made some miraculous feats in the medical field. She was mainly known for healing others in their wonderful ailments. She was now at the stadium, where she heard there would be much carnage and destruction. Now why would a doctor who healed many want to visit such a place? The simple answer would be to heal whoever got hurt, no?
Actually, she was just here to observe. To study Zernos culture. While in the Core, she can deduct their culture and traditions because they're in a more technologically advanced stature than Zernos. Everything could be linked digitally. But in Zernos, there's only blots of it which paves way for large gaps of information. She visits Zernos primarily for this reason. Healing is just a side job to gain more popularity with its people so she can move around more freely.
Once she entered the stadium with little to no effort, she was met with the loud roars and cheers of the crowd. Of course, it wasn't for her. It was for the main upcoming event. "Truly fascinating..." She mumbled to herself once more. She studied plenty about the humans' history and concluded that they were a pretty violent race. War being something the humans are very fond of. The Destruction Derby, seeming to awake an instinct in every human from what she deduced. Pure chaos. She looked around and definitely saw many who armed themselves with weapons. She also saw one individual with a thermal kit on his rifle.
She didn't see it as much of a threat so she decided to not do anything about it. But it begged her a question. Perhaps she herself should be armed? Under her coat, she formed her hand as if she were holding a pistol. Using data and symbols, her Aether Chip inside of her started to form a physical entity of the pistol she envisioned. It was a large revolver with a heavy and long barrel. She saw it in Zernos' market and thought it would be a good shell for her weapon if she were to get into a fight. She needed something she can use with one hand but delivery a very powerful blow. Knowing that explosive munitions were in the humans' technological capabilities, she knew how to program her weapon in order to be just as effective as she is in Velikan, or what the humans know it as Koschei-VII.
Although it was pretty heavy on her thigh so she made a couple of edits under her coat to lighten the weight of it, using her Aether Chip to manifest a holographic screen under it to allow her to make such edits. She looked at the individual's thermal kit and ran some tests in her head. After some results, she also made a couple more edits so that her coat would conceal her gun from thermals until it was brought outside.
A moment later, she felt a hand slap her rear as a burly male had approached her. "Heeey, little lady. How about you come with me? We can enjoy each other's company while watching the derby? Well, maybe you might have more fun doing something for me while I enjoy it." He said as he laughed. Aozalea had studied this type of behavior and it was quite understandable. Of course, species have an instinct to mate or seek pleasure and he was no exception. Unfortunately for him, she was in no such mood. She just smiled at him before typing really quick on the screen under her coat and tinkered with his brain to feel... nauseous. After the effects were implemented, he felt it immediately and rushed off to the restroom or to wherever he could puke while saving his dignity.
She then sighed and shook her head as she returned her attention to the center of the stadium, waiting for the destruction to come next. Either that or another person to bother her.
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Britt-21
Omniverse Explorer
Slav
(spoke to)
CasualTea
(mentioned briefly)Everyone was excited for the event this evening, including herself to some degree. Despite depicting herself as a male with habits such as drinking, rough housing, and more; She was still a woman and can be indifferent to certain events. Derbies were no exception, it was just a bunch of cars and all smacking into each other with intent to not only wipe out the enemy, but also to be the last man standing. The only thing that stood out to her was when they either dragged bodies out (if they were able to) or if there was some explosions happening on the field. That's what made it exciting, at least to her. Azure hitched a ride on one of her original family gang members' bike, chilling on the back while he drove. The woman had a lollipop in her mouth and a hat upon her head and quite honestly, she looked like a gangster alright. The dust flew by, but luckily never went into her eyes due to her position of sitting backwards. The closer they got, the busier it got. More bikes and carts started to show up and she could already hear the revving vehicles, the people yelling. This was gonna be a long evening.
Once her buddy parked, she patted him on the shoulder "Thanks." And hopped off the bike, dusting off her clothes before casually walking toward the arena and through the crowd. Her goal was to get on those damn stands before anyone else can find a way to detour her with the massive crowd. She even caught sight of someone trying to hit on another, however ran off before anything else could happen That's what you get, bastard. Thought Az as she finally got her ass out of the crowd and got to the stands where she spotted a black and red-haired man leaning on the rail "Didn't take you to be the early one, Sil!" With hands in her pockets, she approached while also scanning their surroundings. "Usually I'm the one who's here the earliest." Standing beside him, she did her best to ignore the smell of cigarettes. Despite being around them, the smell alone always made her sick to her stomach but she knew very well she had to fight the urge to make a face each time. "Are the others coming too?" Az asked, referring to the gang that both herself and Sil had been a part of.
Red-eyed gaze shifted around, watching as people slowly filled up the stands with drinks, food, or some other garbage in their hands. Switching the Lollipop to the other side, she fiddled around with something in her pocket, though one may never know what it is till they push her the wrong way.
Inuzori
犬ぞり- Shibe Supreme
♡coded by uxie♡
Last edited:
ThatWhichShouldBe
Elder Member
Marshall Jackson
The bounty hunter himself is watching from the stands, dressed in his usual finery. Unlike many of the other people here, he wasn't very heavily armed at all. If anything, he seemed underarmed, with just two little revolvers in his holster. Size didn't matter though. Aim and speed did, and when it came to those two things, Marshall Jackson was one of the best. He keeps a firm eye on the explosions and death occurring in the race, but it's not just because that thing was fun to watch. For one thing, he had a bet riding on one of those racers. Bad habit, but it was pretty fun to win big once in a while by betting on an underdog.
For another thing, one of those racers had a bounty on their heads. He'd shaved, changed his face, gotten an implant or two, but Marshall had tracked his murdering, thieving, poker-cheating ass here. And if Marshall knew anything, it was this guy couldn't resist cheating once again to try and get ahead. The moment Marshall found him, it'd be popping a cap in his head and dragging him off the moment it became obvious one of the very few rules that this place had when it came to the Destruction Derby. They didn't have many, in fact, most people didn't know there were any rules at all, but there were rules.
The bounty hunter himself is watching from the stands, dressed in his usual finery. Unlike many of the other people here, he wasn't very heavily armed at all. If anything, he seemed underarmed, with just two little revolvers in his holster. Size didn't matter though. Aim and speed did, and when it came to those two things, Marshall Jackson was one of the best. He keeps a firm eye on the explosions and death occurring in the race, but it's not just because that thing was fun to watch. For one thing, he had a bet riding on one of those racers. Bad habit, but it was pretty fun to win big once in a while by betting on an underdog.
For another thing, one of those racers had a bounty on their heads. He'd shaved, changed his face, gotten an implant or two, but Marshall had tracked his murdering, thieving, poker-cheating ass here. And if Marshall knew anything, it was this guy couldn't resist cheating once again to try and get ahead. The moment Marshall found him, it'd be popping a cap in his head and dragging him off the moment it became obvious one of the very few rules that this place had when it came to the Destruction Derby. They didn't have many, in fact, most people didn't know there were any rules at all, but there were rules.
Servant
Ashigara's Lightning
Last edited:
queanbean
queen bean casserole
Slav
Senior Member
Britt-21
Omniverse Explorer
Slav
Servant
Azure knew very well that no one could ever mimic this man even if they wanted to. With the way he was jumping, you could almost guess he was like a child in a candy shop at this point. "Not that you're unforgettable, hard for that to happen." She replied while he brought her close and hugged her like one of the bros and stole her hat away. Leaving her with just her getup "I mean hey, if someone thinks I'm a girl, then I can take advantage of free drinks." A smirk tugged her lips as a small laugh escaped her mouth and took a seat nearby. "Be careful I don't trick you into thinking that too, I might confuse you on who you're actually attracted to." Pulling the lollipop from her lips, she waved it around as she was talking and got up to stand by Silv who punched her in the arm. Despite his roughhousing, she didn't mind it and didn't bruise too easily so the punch really didn't throw her off "No wonder everyone likes to pick on you. You're like a child on christmas morning." She teased.
While some contestants were exposing themselves, she 100% spotted the clown and knew this was gonna be quite the interesting fight. Surely they're doing this for a laugh, or even perhaps going for the killer crazy clown vibe. Thought Azure while Sil offered to get her anything. With a raise of an eyebrow, she glanced back over and wondered if she should get that meat skewer that someone was trying to sell off. "I mean, if you want a snack I guess you can go ahead and get a meat skewer that the one person is yelling out about. It'll taste better while the show goes on and you can always throw the stick if someone gets you mad and hope it hits them." Azure gave an innocent smile, knowing very well if he got pissed off he'd do something like that.
CasualTea
[ 404 ]
As the main event of the derby was coming near, she started to see some of the contestants roll out in their vehicles. From it looks like, the clown was getting much attention. Probably because of the outfit. Seems like it was just humorous to have the clown come out on top. Though now that she thought about it, some of the humans' records show that clowns could also be quite a horrific figure. It gave her a small grin. Clever. She thought to herself. As she started hearing a food vendor shouting and advertising their meat skewers, she looked around. Upon a glance, she saw one hand going up and she recognized whose hand it was.
She started making her way to the humanoid figure. She, like her, was an Unwanted. But she knew her in other means. She soon got next to her and tapped her shoulder, offering a friendly smile. "Dr. Stygis, order one for me too. I'll pay for both of us." She said before settling down near her. "I didn't think I'd see you in the derby today. Thought you would be getting your clinic ready for the aftermath of it." She teased. She never met Stygis personally but she did ask for some pictures of the receiver of some of her inventory. As money wasn't much of an issue for Aozalea, she would send some quality supplies to someone in Zernos for cheap. Who knew she'd met them here. "Oh, I'm Dr. Croselle by the way. I'm sure you are the one receiving my supplies, yes?" She asked, wishing to confirm that this person was the one she is thinking about. Sure, she had pictures but what if she missed some information and this was just another individual within her race? It was going to be a little embarrassing to get the wrong person. She'd probably pay for one additional meat skewer to apologize for the inconvenience.
Servant
Servant
Ashigara's Lightning
queanbean
queen bean casserole
Slav
Senior Member
Sierra-Alpha
May we become better strangers.
Ford Léandre
Location: The Pit
Status: Waiting for the first of many.
A crude cacophony of clashes and crashes of steel reverberated throughout the arena. The deafening engines of the jalopies droned on during the bloody spectacle with the event being punctuated by thunderous explosions and the shrill screeches of tires and vocal cords. As the junkers were shredded, razed, and obliterated until they were nothing more than slag heaps, blood and motor oil began to soak into the poisoned earth. This horrid slurry started to drip down and down, further and further into the bowels of the arena before, at last, emerging from the ceiling of the underground.
Ford sat and watched as the sludge dripped out of the numerous cracks of the ceiling; it trickled down the walls and coagulated against the slick sandstone walls which added to an awful mural of past events. The walls of The Pit were caked with the stuff at this point due to the popularity of the bloodsport, and every time the rancid fluid came down, it brought an awful, awful smell.
The man was overwhelmed by the stench, and he brought up a gloved hand to pinch his nose closed. He never could get used to it — the derbies, that is. The needless spilling of blood and the relentless destruction of such fine handiwork was utterly repulsive to him. So much is wasted... and for what? Did the common rabble seriously get their kicks off of this bloodshed?
The entertainment gained from these spectacles was subjective — Ford was a testament to that. But the money it brought in? No arguments were made there.
Beneath the arena and down in The Pit — an aptly named filthy pitstop — there are a number of mechanics who toil and work on machines of death and destruction before they're rolled out onto the stage — and these people are well compensated. It was wise to not skimp out on the pay of the backbone of these games; the events ride on their expertise, after all. This investment definitely paid off. Thousands come to the arena to watch these spectacles, and between the entry fee, the earnings from the concessions, and the fees from the "souvenirs" scavenged from the arena, the derbies raked in some serious dough.
Some of this wealth found its way into the hands of Ford, and it was the only reason he put up with the horrors above. People wanted to see the derbies, and if he wasn't capitalizing off of it, then someone else would. Someone who couldn't tell the difference between a bolt and a screw — like ol' Willie Pete. Probably couldn't, anyway. With the metal monstrosities that man conjures, it would certainly give off that impression. And was he... soaked in petrol? Might've worked on that clown fella's ride. Crazy bastard's got a thing for fire, Ford thought to himself as Petey sauntered by. The scent of fuel wafted towards the man when he foolishly unclamped his nose to prove his observation, and as the potent smell combined with the existing stench, the truly horrible odor was nearly enough to make him hurl. Fortunately, he was able to keep it in.
It looked like Petey was heading toward the exit that led to the stands. He might be heading off to watch his handiwork in action, and despite Ford's rooted stance on the sport, a morbid curiosity struck him as he wondered how his machine would fare in the arena. Most excellently... the man speculated as a smirk crept up on his face.
The Unstoppable was already a heavy girl before Ford made his modifications, and with the slabs of thick plating shipped straight from the local steel mills skillfully welded onto her exterior, the truck was now colossal in mass. Its gargantuan ram was backed up by a skillfully jury-rigged V16 engine, and the only time that beast was going to stop was when it rolled back into The Pit to bang out the dents and peel off the viscera.
That last tidbit was a little too brutal for the man. He shook off the intrusive thoughts before berating himself internally for succumbing to the dreadful allures of the bloodsport. However, in truth, The Unstoppable was genuinely one of Ford's finest works, and he was sure that it was going to come out on top. If things go wrong, though, then the reinforced internals would keep the driver safe and sound if the vehicle was ever disabled. It was the least he could do for his benefactor; it was an honor to work on the driver's machine in the first place. Nice woman, that one. Tips well, too. Might even take home a nice bonus if she takes home the trophy, Ford wondered.
The man looked around the pitstop and saw a myriad of mechanics milling about and prepping for the event's epilogue. The survivors and their rides would roll into the shop after the derby concluded, and they would both have repairs made to their bodies. The local clinic wasn't that far off from here, after all. While the docs worked, so would the mechanics, and Ford would benefit from getting his tools in order as well. Though... it couldn't hurt to see the carnage for himself, right? A couple of the blackfingers seemed to be making way for the stands along with Petey, and there'd be no shame in joining their ranks.
Ford hastily rose from his stool and jogged towards the exit. As he made his way up the steps, he rationalized that he was going to evaluate the performance of The Unstoppable which would help him make future improvements. The man emerged from the belly of the arena, and the derby in its total glory was presented to him. The smell of roasted meat, both from the concessions and from the arena, permeated the stands, and the audience was tumultuous as ever. The typical clamor of the crowd was occasionally broken by a burst of cheers and jeers whenever one of the machines made brutal contact with another.
He began to make his way toward the precipice, and he tried his best not to trample over the crowd of seated folk while offering apologies for those who happened to be in the way. He shrugged off the occasional derogatory statement flung his way, and he made sure not to make any eye contact with those with wild eyes and itchy trigger fingers.
At last, his eyes caught a glance of the beautiful, barreling behemoth as its engine roared throughout the arena. Its silver sheen burned brightly across the battlefield with the occasional blood spatter painting the chassis. At that moment, there was truly no finer sight for the mechanic. It was like watching a hatchling soar out of the nest.
Ford couldn't help but smile as he leaned against the railing.
Location: The Stands
Status: Watching the chaos unfold.
Location: The Pit
Status: Waiting for the first of many.
A crude cacophony of clashes and crashes of steel reverberated throughout the arena. The deafening engines of the jalopies droned on during the bloody spectacle with the event being punctuated by thunderous explosions and the shrill screeches of tires and vocal cords. As the junkers were shredded, razed, and obliterated until they were nothing more than slag heaps, blood and motor oil began to soak into the poisoned earth. This horrid slurry started to drip down and down, further and further into the bowels of the arena before, at last, emerging from the ceiling of the underground.
Ford sat and watched as the sludge dripped out of the numerous cracks of the ceiling; it trickled down the walls and coagulated against the slick sandstone walls which added to an awful mural of past events. The walls of The Pit were caked with the stuff at this point due to the popularity of the bloodsport, and every time the rancid fluid came down, it brought an awful, awful smell.
The man was overwhelmed by the stench, and he brought up a gloved hand to pinch his nose closed. He never could get used to it — the derbies, that is. The needless spilling of blood and the relentless destruction of such fine handiwork was utterly repulsive to him. So much is wasted... and for what? Did the common rabble seriously get their kicks off of this bloodshed?
The entertainment gained from these spectacles was subjective — Ford was a testament to that. But the money it brought in? No arguments were made there.
Beneath the arena and down in The Pit — an aptly named filthy pitstop — there are a number of mechanics who toil and work on machines of death and destruction before they're rolled out onto the stage — and these people are well compensated. It was wise to not skimp out on the pay of the backbone of these games; the events ride on their expertise, after all. This investment definitely paid off. Thousands come to the arena to watch these spectacles, and between the entry fee, the earnings from the concessions, and the fees from the "souvenirs" scavenged from the arena, the derbies raked in some serious dough.
Some of this wealth found its way into the hands of Ford, and it was the only reason he put up with the horrors above. People wanted to see the derbies, and if he wasn't capitalizing off of it, then someone else would. Someone who couldn't tell the difference between a bolt and a screw — like ol' Willie Pete. Probably couldn't, anyway. With the metal monstrosities that man conjures, it would certainly give off that impression. And was he... soaked in petrol? Might've worked on that clown fella's ride. Crazy bastard's got a thing for fire, Ford thought to himself as Petey sauntered by. The scent of fuel wafted towards the man when he foolishly unclamped his nose to prove his observation, and as the potent smell combined with the existing stench, the truly horrible odor was nearly enough to make him hurl. Fortunately, he was able to keep it in.
It looked like Petey was heading toward the exit that led to the stands. He might be heading off to watch his handiwork in action, and despite Ford's rooted stance on the sport, a morbid curiosity struck him as he wondered how his machine would fare in the arena. Most excellently... the man speculated as a smirk crept up on his face.
The Unstoppable was already a heavy girl before Ford made his modifications, and with the slabs of thick plating shipped straight from the local steel mills skillfully welded onto her exterior, the truck was now colossal in mass. Its gargantuan ram was backed up by a skillfully jury-rigged V16 engine, and the only time that beast was going to stop was when it rolled back into The Pit to bang out the dents and peel off the viscera.
That last tidbit was a little too brutal for the man. He shook off the intrusive thoughts before berating himself internally for succumbing to the dreadful allures of the bloodsport. However, in truth, The Unstoppable was genuinely one of Ford's finest works, and he was sure that it was going to come out on top. If things go wrong, though, then the reinforced internals would keep the driver safe and sound if the vehicle was ever disabled. It was the least he could do for his benefactor; it was an honor to work on the driver's machine in the first place. Nice woman, that one. Tips well, too. Might even take home a nice bonus if she takes home the trophy, Ford wondered.
The man looked around the pitstop and saw a myriad of mechanics milling about and prepping for the event's epilogue. The survivors and their rides would roll into the shop after the derby concluded, and they would both have repairs made to their bodies. The local clinic wasn't that far off from here, after all. While the docs worked, so would the mechanics, and Ford would benefit from getting his tools in order as well. Though... it couldn't hurt to see the carnage for himself, right? A couple of the blackfingers seemed to be making way for the stands along with Petey, and there'd be no shame in joining their ranks.
Ford hastily rose from his stool and jogged towards the exit. As he made his way up the steps, he rationalized that he was going to evaluate the performance of The Unstoppable which would help him make future improvements. The man emerged from the belly of the arena, and the derby in its total glory was presented to him. The smell of roasted meat, both from the concessions and from the arena, permeated the stands, and the audience was tumultuous as ever. The typical clamor of the crowd was occasionally broken by a burst of cheers and jeers whenever one of the machines made brutal contact with another.
He began to make his way toward the precipice, and he tried his best not to trample over the crowd of seated folk while offering apologies for those who happened to be in the way. He shrugged off the occasional derogatory statement flung his way, and he made sure not to make any eye contact with those with wild eyes and itchy trigger fingers.
At last, his eyes caught a glance of the beautiful, barreling behemoth as its engine roared throughout the arena. Its silver sheen burned brightly across the battlefield with the occasional blood spatter painting the chassis. At that moment, there was truly no finer sight for the mechanic. It was like watching a hatchling soar out of the nest.
Ford couldn't help but smile as he leaned against the railing.
Location: The Stands
Status: Watching the chaos unfold.
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CasualTea
[ 404 ]
Aozalea chuckled while shaking her head. "No, no." She said. "I have my own patients. I actually came out for research on some wildlife outside the Core. If there is any." She said with a shrug. "I just came over here as it was recommended by a friend." She then bit into her skewer and started chewing on it. She noticed that Stygis also had some difficulty chewing it down so she knows she wasn't the only one finding it a little tough.
"As for the supplies, it'll come like usual. Might take a little longer this time due to some problems with my assistants back at the lab. They're not the best at keeping inventory." She admitted before she looked out to the stadium. "So, how does this usually go? Someone wins in the end, right? What happens to the losers?" She asked curiously as she wanted to learn much about the lifestyle outside of the Core. Her mission is to study the cultures and lifestyles there is. It would be a pretty challenging mission considering the humans themselves are extremely diverse. Adding other species onto that just stacks the amount of diversity there is.
queanbean
queen bean casserole
Britt-21
Omniverse Explorer
Slav
Servant
Azure practically snorted at his remark, though said nothing more as he returned the hat to her head. It's gonna take him a very long time to figure this one out. Az thought with a shake of her head. Suddenly they were approached by the girl selling those meat skewers almost as if she knew they were eyeing those suckers. Taking those that he handed to her, even she herself began to go for one of the skewers, taking a bite of the meat that immediately gave a party in her mouth. "Well thank you for your special offer. Cause I can assure you if there's more, I'm gonna buy more. This is actually pretty damn good!" She gave the girl a smile and continued to snack on the skewer as her red eyes shifted towards the arena as everything began. The revving engines, clashing of metal on metal, and even the crunching noises from the cars. The screaming, the cheering, I'm gonna be deaf after this.
Her eyes shifted back to the girl "Where and how did you make these? I'm very interested in learning these techniques. Especially when they're very delicious." Taking another bite, she felt as if she was going to heaven and quite honestly was probably going to order more of them shortly because well...She was already almost done with a skewer and quickly making her way to the other. The more Az thought about the food situation, the more she realized that there was no way in hell it would be easy to get enough meat to make all these skewers unless you got lucky. Hunting to her wasn't easy but had to be done just to live. A satisfied sigh left her lips before going right back in for another bite, waiting for the girl's response.
Servant
Ashigara's Lightning
Jhin
Four!
FILCH
MEDIEVAL MEDIC
Sierra-Alpha
May we become better strangers.
Ford Léandre
Location: The stands.
Status: Admiring his work.
Ford continued to be transfixed by the behemoth of a machine. He tightened his grip around the railing of the precipice as the truck plowed through the arena and left grueling debris of mud, blood, and metal in its wake. It wasn't wrong to admire his work, was it? There truly was no finer sight within the arena — so long as you have good taste, of course — and it was hard not to be enraptured by the vehicle's performance. Cruel as it was, how could one resist the sights and sounds of the fantastically brutal display of the beast flinging a jalopy across the battlefield?
Its beauty was akin to that of a raging sandstorm, or of a building engulfed in flames, or of the rhythmic drumbeats of a raider party on the horizon.
Though enamoring in its presentation, they all brought nothing but destruction and misery — and The Unstoppable is of no exception to this. Ford had to remind himself of this as he scanned the battlegrounds to see numerous wrecks of machines desecrated for petty entertainment. The stories of these poor contraptions and their drivers are now nothing more than piles of scrap waiting to be picked clean — like carcasses for the vultures.
Ford let out a sigh as he shook off the harrowing implications and carried on with his intent observations. After all, he was here to judge the machine's performance. Or so the man told himself. Though, as he watched, Ford was able to pick up on a quip of one of the spectators through the incessant clamor of the crowd. "Wow, wow! Look't that one. Huge beast, amazin'," said one of the abundant bystanders. It was almost as if the string of words was filtered through Ford's consciousness; his swelled up ego had arrogantly assumed that the admiration was directed towards The Unstoppable.
He couldn't help but try to affirm his hunch, and his head swiveled back to try and find the source of the compliment. The rabble before him was certainly sore on the eyes, but his attention locked onto a peculiar looking fellow and their companion. Clad in an orange jumpsuit and seated next to an... exotic looking woman, it was clear from judging their focused gaze on the barreling machine — like a feline stalking their prey — that this one had also taken a liking to the mechanic's work. While Ford personally never had many interactions with the myriad of unwanted within Zernos, he couldn't help but smile as he watched the stranger gaze intently upon one of his finer works.
However, Ford wasn't content with the knowledge that his finery was being appreciated. He needed to know what exactly The Unstoppable is doing that made them tick. And besides, a little light conversation never hurt anyone. The man baited his hook with a sharp whistle, and with a smile on his face, he began to address the unique character with a raised voice. "Hey! Horns!" the man spoke. Unfortunately, the quip could've also been addressed to the strange looking lady seated next to the stranger. A brief and careless oversight, but the more the merrier, right? Hoping to have caught their attention, Ford turned towards them and leaned on the railing.
"She's one hell of a beauty, ain't she?" Ford spoke as he snuck a gaze toward the machine while also jabbing a thumb towards The Unstoppable's direction. "I gotta lotta money riding on that one taking home the trophy! You think-" before the mechanic could finish his inquiry, a sharp voice pierced through the crowd and caught the man's attention. "Ford!"
The man tensed up and froze as his name was called out by an unfamiliar voice. Nothing good came from someone yelling your name out like that. Ever. Ford snapped around toward the source with its now quickening strides as he shoved his right hand in his jacket's pocket. Mid-motion, a myriad of thoughts tumbled around his brain as he tried to ascertain the reasoning for the presence of this new assailant. A messenger, maybe? Shit, an assassin? From whom, though? Maybe it was from that big and mean lookin' client from a week ago. Wasn't one of my finest works, but it was adequate, right? Fuck, that guy was probably a gang leader or something, and I definitely pissed him off. Even if my work wasn't great, it certainly wouldn't warrant sending- Ford's train of thought screeched to a halt as soon as he was able to get a good look at the scrawny looking boy before him.
Oh. This kid lost or something?
Ford's grip on his firearm faltered and his hand slipped out of his pocket as he relaxed his back against the railing. Ford definitely doesn't know this one, but it definitely doesn't seem like he's out for his life. Maybe he got his name from one of his colleagues? Looks like this kid's got more to say. "That’s your beast out there, ain't it?"
The mechanic raised an eyebrow at the little man's inquiry. Looks like he's taken an interest to his work as well. How 'bout that? "Sure is," Ford replied.
"Seems to me like you and I are both creators of a sort. You build 'em up for destruction, and I patch 'em up after." A doctor, huh? Ford's attention was brought to the boy's bag as he taps on it and the two thuds were ever so slightly audible above the crowd.
It appears that these two men were in contrast with one-another. One wrought death — albeit indirectly — and the other, life. There was a glint in this boy's eyes that suggested that he more than welcomed the production of new cases and cavities to dive into. A strange fascination, but it's in good spirit, no?
"What say, Ford, shall we observe this art of ours together? A new perspective always adds more depth, don't you think?" the boy spoke.
Given that Ford was already looking for the opinions of the masses regarding the vehicle, he was more than welcome of another voice in the crowd. Eccentric as this kid is, Ford was sure that he'd bring something meaningful to the table. With a chuckle, Ford spoke to the boy. "Sure thing, kid!" he replied. Looking behind him, he snuck another glance towards the machine as it roared across the arena, and he turned to address the boy once more. "Hey, while we watch, is there anything in particular that you'd wanna know about that beast? Got a big list of details about her, if you'd like." Ford said. The mechanic was definitely welcoming of the appreciation of finer details regarding his work, and he could talk about such things all day.
Having not forgotten about the strangers seated further away, Ford flicked his gaze towards them and spoke with a raised voice. "How about you two? There anything you wanna talk about the one in silver? I helped build the thing, by the way!" he yelled as he tapped the railing with his right hand. There was plenty of room to stand around the edge of the arena, and it shouldn't be too much of a hassle to cross over the crowd, Ford thought.
Location: The stands.
Status: Makin' some smalltalk.
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queanbean
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CasualTea
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Interactions: Stygis, Aozalea, Filch
Location: The stands.
Status: Admiring his work.
Ford continued to be transfixed by the behemoth of a machine. He tightened his grip around the railing of the precipice as the truck plowed through the arena and left grueling debris of mud, blood, and metal in its wake. It wasn't wrong to admire his work, was it? There truly was no finer sight within the arena — so long as you have good taste, of course — and it was hard not to be enraptured by the vehicle's performance. Cruel as it was, how could one resist the sights and sounds of the fantastically brutal display of the beast flinging a jalopy across the battlefield?
Its beauty was akin to that of a raging sandstorm, or of a building engulfed in flames, or of the rhythmic drumbeats of a raider party on the horizon.
Though enamoring in its presentation, they all brought nothing but destruction and misery — and The Unstoppable is of no exception to this. Ford had to remind himself of this as he scanned the battlegrounds to see numerous wrecks of machines desecrated for petty entertainment. The stories of these poor contraptions and their drivers are now nothing more than piles of scrap waiting to be picked clean — like carcasses for the vultures.
Ford let out a sigh as he shook off the harrowing implications and carried on with his intent observations. After all, he was here to judge the machine's performance. Or so the man told himself. Though, as he watched, Ford was able to pick up on a quip of one of the spectators through the incessant clamor of the crowd. "Wow, wow! Look't that one. Huge beast, amazin'," said one of the abundant bystanders. It was almost as if the string of words was filtered through Ford's consciousness; his swelled up ego had arrogantly assumed that the admiration was directed towards The Unstoppable.
He couldn't help but try to affirm his hunch, and his head swiveled back to try and find the source of the compliment. The rabble before him was certainly sore on the eyes, but his attention locked onto a peculiar looking fellow and their companion. Clad in an orange jumpsuit and seated next to an... exotic looking woman, it was clear from judging their focused gaze on the barreling machine — like a feline stalking their prey — that this one had also taken a liking to the mechanic's work. While Ford personally never had many interactions with the myriad of unwanted within Zernos, he couldn't help but smile as he watched the stranger gaze intently upon one of his finer works.
However, Ford wasn't content with the knowledge that his finery was being appreciated. He needed to know what exactly The Unstoppable is doing that made them tick. And besides, a little light conversation never hurt anyone. The man baited his hook with a sharp whistle, and with a smile on his face, he began to address the unique character with a raised voice. "Hey! Horns!" the man spoke. Unfortunately, the quip could've also been addressed to the strange looking lady seated next to the stranger. A brief and careless oversight, but the more the merrier, right? Hoping to have caught their attention, Ford turned towards them and leaned on the railing.
"She's one hell of a beauty, ain't she?" Ford spoke as he snuck a gaze toward the machine while also jabbing a thumb towards The Unstoppable's direction. "I gotta lotta money riding on that one taking home the trophy! You think-" before the mechanic could finish his inquiry, a sharp voice pierced through the crowd and caught the man's attention. "Ford!"
The man tensed up and froze as his name was called out by an unfamiliar voice. Nothing good came from someone yelling your name out like that. Ever. Ford snapped around toward the source with its now quickening strides as he shoved his right hand in his jacket's pocket. Mid-motion, a myriad of thoughts tumbled around his brain as he tried to ascertain the reasoning for the presence of this new assailant. A messenger, maybe? Shit, an assassin? From whom, though? Maybe it was from that big and mean lookin' client from a week ago. Wasn't one of my finest works, but it was adequate, right? Fuck, that guy was probably a gang leader or something, and I definitely pissed him off. Even if my work wasn't great, it certainly wouldn't warrant sending- Ford's train of thought screeched to a halt as soon as he was able to get a good look at the scrawny looking boy before him.
Oh. This kid lost or something?
Ford's grip on his firearm faltered and his hand slipped out of his pocket as he relaxed his back against the railing. Ford definitely doesn't know this one, but it definitely doesn't seem like he's out for his life. Maybe he got his name from one of his colleagues? Looks like this kid's got more to say. "That’s your beast out there, ain't it?"
The mechanic raised an eyebrow at the little man's inquiry. Looks like he's taken an interest to his work as well. How 'bout that? "Sure is," Ford replied.
"Seems to me like you and I are both creators of a sort. You build 'em up for destruction, and I patch 'em up after." A doctor, huh? Ford's attention was brought to the boy's bag as he taps on it and the two thuds were ever so slightly audible above the crowd.
It appears that these two men were in contrast with one-another. One wrought death — albeit indirectly — and the other, life. There was a glint in this boy's eyes that suggested that he more than welcomed the production of new cases and cavities to dive into. A strange fascination, but it's in good spirit, no?
"What say, Ford, shall we observe this art of ours together? A new perspective always adds more depth, don't you think?" the boy spoke.
Given that Ford was already looking for the opinions of the masses regarding the vehicle, he was more than welcome of another voice in the crowd. Eccentric as this kid is, Ford was sure that he'd bring something meaningful to the table. With a chuckle, Ford spoke to the boy. "Sure thing, kid!" he replied. Looking behind him, he snuck another glance towards the machine as it roared across the arena, and he turned to address the boy once more. "Hey, while we watch, is there anything in particular that you'd wanna know about that beast? Got a big list of details about her, if you'd like." Ford said. The mechanic was definitely welcoming of the appreciation of finer details regarding his work, and he could talk about such things all day.
Having not forgotten about the strangers seated further away, Ford flicked his gaze towards them and spoke with a raised voice. "How about you two? There anything you wanna talk about the one in silver? I helped build the thing, by the way!" he yelled as he tapped the railing with his right hand. There was plenty of room to stand around the edge of the arena, and it shouldn't be too much of a hassle to cross over the crowd, Ford thought.
Location: The stands.
Status: Makin' some smalltalk.
Mentions:
queanbean
,
CasualTea
,
Jhin
Interactions: Stygis, Aozalea, Filch
Firelie
WHERE AM I? IS THIS WENDYS?
CODE BY fluticasone
Last edited:
ThatWhichShouldBe
Elder Member
Marshall Jackson
The gunslinger watches the race, his eyes locking onto the Unstoppable and its driver. There. That was his quarry. The revving cars, the cheers of the crowd, weren't any matter of his. Just the bounty. He gets up from his seat in the stands, walking down the aisle as the race starts in earnest, making his way down to thin barrier that separated track and audience. He was practically counting out his earnings already. But then Marshall sees her. In the midst of the cars, a grey-haired cyborg flying down the road among them, hooked to the back of his quarry by a line. She might've been pretty if she didn't have the flinty, dusty face of a woman with everything to lose and her life on the line. Marshall locks eyes with her for a moment, and in that frozen sliver of time they reach a silent understanding.
They were both hunters. They were both after the same prey.
Jackson makes a running leap, launching himself off of the barrier, to land upon the hood of a passing car with a thud, rolling with the impact to minimize damage. The racer in the machine snarls, drawing out a knife, but an augmented arm slams through the glass to crush the driver's throat with a punch, leaving them choking on their own blood. The gunslinger locks eyes with the cyborg one more time, as his hand grabs onto the racecar's wheel. Duwhal has a moment to realize what he's doing, before Jackson twists the wheel. The car Jackson's on is sent careening towards the side of the Unstoppable, slamming into it. If she didn't do anything about it, she'd be sent swinging on the wire probably into another car, or worse, into the path of another car. Neither of which was particularly healthy.
"If you survive, how about splitting this bounty!" Jackson calls out with a grin, before leaping from the hood of the careening vehicle he was on, onto the flatbed of a truck in the race just ahead. Marshall hears the clicks of weapons being drawn all around him, as the race drivers prepare to shoot it out in the middle of the race. A free-for-all gun battle.
Hell, and he'd thought this would be boring.
The gunslinger watches the race, his eyes locking onto the Unstoppable and its driver. There. That was his quarry. The revving cars, the cheers of the crowd, weren't any matter of his. Just the bounty. He gets up from his seat in the stands, walking down the aisle as the race starts in earnest, making his way down to thin barrier that separated track and audience. He was practically counting out his earnings already. But then Marshall sees her. In the midst of the cars, a grey-haired cyborg flying down the road among them, hooked to the back of his quarry by a line. She might've been pretty if she didn't have the flinty, dusty face of a woman with everything to lose and her life on the line. Marshall locks eyes with her for a moment, and in that frozen sliver of time they reach a silent understanding.
They were both hunters. They were both after the same prey.
Jackson makes a running leap, launching himself off of the barrier, to land upon the hood of a passing car with a thud, rolling with the impact to minimize damage. The racer in the machine snarls, drawing out a knife, but an augmented arm slams through the glass to crush the driver's throat with a punch, leaving them choking on their own blood. The gunslinger locks eyes with the cyborg one more time, as his hand grabs onto the racecar's wheel. Duwhal has a moment to realize what he's doing, before Jackson twists the wheel. The car Jackson's on is sent careening towards the side of the Unstoppable, slamming into it. If she didn't do anything about it, she'd be sent swinging on the wire probably into another car, or worse, into the path of another car. Neither of which was particularly healthy.
"If you survive, how about splitting this bounty!" Jackson calls out with a grin, before leaping from the hood of the careening vehicle he was on, onto the flatbed of a truck in the race just ahead. Marshall hears the clicks of weapons being drawn all around him, as the race drivers prepare to shoot it out in the middle of the race. A free-for-all gun battle.
Hell, and he'd thought this would be boring.
Slav
Senior Member
