Disposable weapons aren't renowned for their durability
And blocking the katana is one of only two reliable ways to keep from getting cut by it
The other is dodging, which is...less reliable of a method
Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)
- Thread starter Tricia
- Start date
And blocking the katana is one of only two reliable ways to keep from getting cut by it
The other is dodging, which is...less reliable of a method
Yes, the problem being that they both want Anderson dead. And they don't really give a shit about each other. Why would they fight each other?
Also we did promise the old man we'd use it for Hunters as payment for the crafting job. A good christian pays his debts.
One of the big things I worry about with the club (other than a big slow club being a poor choice against a fast katana) is its also made out of flesh and carapace. It will probably be fine because, you know, its a weapon and everyone knows weapons are indestructible.
Because shes a beast now. First person she killed was the guy who brought her off in the street. The church crowd don't seem to have any great love for crow guy either.
Madork Gunna
Ork Flyboy
- Location
- Upside down
[X] Accept his challenge. "Ya know what? I'm okay with this. Out front laughing boy, if we had a proper barney in here the roof 'd collapse."
[X] Have Djura, Steffon, and the other church hunters escort the civilians somewhere safe. Their call if it's to the chapel with Iosefka, or on some other sanctuary.
[X] Engage at range with thrown bayonets. Keep moving for cover, and grab a sturdy-looking corpse (ie. One of the giants) as a mobile shield if you have to.
[X] Whip out the Club o' Righteousness when in melee range, but keep the laser function as an ace.
[X] After gauging his abilities, try to set him up for an alpha strike: Unlimited Bayonet Works, all timed to blow up simultaneously in the ground.
-[X] Every time he closes the distance, use tha Club o' Righteousness to lock that nasty looking sword of his down with those nasty spikes on it. If yer lucky, ye can do it in a way that gives ye a free point blank shot with the Laser o' Irony and end the fight. Keep the beam spam in reserve until ye can land a sucker punch with it, though.
[X] Have Djura, Steffon, and the other church hunters escort the civilians somewhere safe. Their call if it's to the chapel with Iosefka, or on some other sanctuary.
[X] Engage at range with thrown bayonets. Keep moving for cover, and grab a sturdy-looking corpse (ie. One of the giants) as a mobile shield if you have to.
[X] Whip out the Club o' Righteousness when in melee range, but keep the laser function as an ace.
[X] After gauging his abilities, try to set him up for an alpha strike: Unlimited Bayonet Works, all timed to blow up simultaneously in the ground.
-[X] Every time he closes the distance, use tha Club o' Righteousness to lock that nasty looking sword of his down with those nasty spikes on it. If yer lucky, ye can do it in a way that gives ye a free point blank shot with the Laser o' Irony and end the fight. Keep the beam spam in reserve until ye can land a sucker punch with it, though.
Whelp, time to patiently await the outcome of lazy bandwagoning
vs. Bloody Crow: When Talent Don't Work Hard
You grin, relishing the idea of a proper one-on-one. "Ye know what? I'm okay with this. Out front, laughin' boy; if we had a proper barney in here the roof'd collapse. Wouldn't want ta hurt the doggie, would ye?"
The man shrugs. "Die in here, die out there, same difference."
"Right, that's the spirit. Mind if my friends move the rabble? Todd over there needs some new trousers and I think that one lady passed out from the excitement."
"Probably fear, actually," Steffon helpfully clarifies.
Again, the man shrugs. You nod to the Powder Kegs, who merely stare at you until you clarify what the nod means.
"Get 'em out o' here. I've got this."
"Improvising again?" Djura asks.
"Somethin' like that. He gets past me, he's all yours. Until then, I'm gonna be a wee bit selfish."
"Your funeral."
"Hey, I didn't even get one last time."
"What?"
"Just go. Meet up with Eileen and start plannin' my victory party."
Luckily, Djura has been exposed to you long enough to simply nod and wave the others forward. The man steps aside and they hurriedly scurry through the door, which he helpfully unlocks for them. Once the last of them is gone, he waves you forward and walks out the door.
You follow him down the long steps in silence. The carnage is completely absurd; gore and splintering craters paint a macabre mural, making the plaza look like a meat locker that got hit by an artillery barrage. You don't think they even make squeegees big enough to deal with this. At least the cleanup can be a fun community service project for the churchmen.
You almost feel bad about having to add one more body to their workload. Almost.
The man, whom you will think of as "Arseface" in lieu of a proper title, walks to the center of the plaza and turns to face you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he rests the blade on his shoulder once more. He's waiting for you to engage.
And you are more than happy to oblige.
You fill your hands and send your blessed blades roaring towards him, trailing a turbulent wake of displaced dust. He didn't move before you finished throwing; he didn't see them coming at all. He won't have time to dodge.
He shifts his foot and he's gone.
You look around in a mild panic as your barrage shoots harmlessly through where he, by all rights, should still be. The shine of moonlight on a polished mask alerts you just in time to step back before his katana buries itself halfway into the cobbles. You manage to fill your hands, only for his next swing to tear through both bayonets and a good portion of your upper chest with absolute ease.
He cuts off an attempt to circle out with a vicious swing and forces you onto your back foot immediately. His assault pushes your reflexes to their absolute limit, and even when you manage to draw the club, you have to settle for just intercepting potentially-lethal hits. The flesh wounds begin to pile up as steel and alien carapace clash.
It's no wonder they're so afraid of this guy; his speed's off the charts. Yumie isn't this fast. Eileen isn't this fast. Not only that, he's strong enough to push your weapon back despite its great bulk. Any normal person, any normal Hunter even, would likely go down to his first strike.
But normal people don't get up from two knockdowns to KO the Jersey Devil in seven. Though it costs you a few of your favorite tendons and more blood than most would be comfortable with, you weather the storm and Arseface's torrent of strikes slows down long enough for you to confirm your suspicions.
Though his physicality is unmatched, his fundamentals are garbage. He's been using the same handful of swings the entire time; no feints, no combinations, no real understanding of footwork. You're not sure this guy's ever been pushed. Hell, you're hard-pressed to think of anyone who even could push him, besides you and that bitey Protestant shitstain. Aw, I love you too.
With a blur of motion you're getting better and better at perceiving, he reaches into his coat and draws a pistol. Nobody taught him the principle of center mass, however, and you weave past the two shots that erupt from it. You step back into range, angling towards his right to draw out the diagonal swing he loves to lead with. Sure enough, he takes the bait.
You bring up the Club o' Righteousness and catch the blade between several of its wicked protrusions. With a grin, you twist it like this.
He's so surprised that even his insane reflexes can't save him from the beam of light that erupts from the tip and catches him square in the chest.
The explosion sends him flying backwards, feathery cloak ablaze. He desperately tries to scramble his way back to his feet and pat out the flames, though his ravaged right shoulder makes this an almost comical effort. You take a step towards him and he flinches, nearly falling over himself in an effort to get away from you.
With his one good hand, he fishes among his clothing, searching for something while keeping his focus on you. For maybe the first time in his fighting life, you made him look stupid, and it would take a dozen of those masks to hold in the hate that's practically a physical force at this point.
[] Write in...
--
CURRENT STATUSES:
Anderson: Deep cut in upper chest that caught collarbone, moderate blood loss
Bloody Crow: Severe damage to chest and right shoulder
The man shrugs. "Die in here, die out there, same difference."
"Right, that's the spirit. Mind if my friends move the rabble? Todd over there needs some new trousers and I think that one lady passed out from the excitement."
"Probably fear, actually," Steffon helpfully clarifies.
Again, the man shrugs. You nod to the Powder Kegs, who merely stare at you until you clarify what the nod means.
"Get 'em out o' here. I've got this."
"Improvising again?" Djura asks.
"Somethin' like that. He gets past me, he's all yours. Until then, I'm gonna be a wee bit selfish."
"Your funeral."
"Hey, I didn't even get one last time."
"What?"
"Just go. Meet up with Eileen and start plannin' my victory party."
Luckily, Djura has been exposed to you long enough to simply nod and wave the others forward. The man steps aside and they hurriedly scurry through the door, which he helpfully unlocks for them. Once the last of them is gone, he waves you forward and walks out the door.
You follow him down the long steps in silence. The carnage is completely absurd; gore and splintering craters paint a macabre mural, making the plaza look like a meat locker that got hit by an artillery barrage. You don't think they even make squeegees big enough to deal with this. At least the cleanup can be a fun community service project for the churchmen.
You almost feel bad about having to add one more body to their workload. Almost.
The man, whom you will think of as "Arseface" in lieu of a proper title, walks to the center of the plaza and turns to face you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he rests the blade on his shoulder once more. He's waiting for you to engage.
And you are more than happy to oblige.
You fill your hands and send your blessed blades roaring towards him, trailing a turbulent wake of displaced dust. He didn't move before you finished throwing; he didn't see them coming at all. He won't have time to dodge.
He shifts his foot and he's gone.
You look around in a mild panic as your barrage shoots harmlessly through where he, by all rights, should still be. The shine of moonlight on a polished mask alerts you just in time to step back before his katana buries itself halfway into the cobbles. You manage to fill your hands, only for his next swing to tear through both bayonets and a good portion of your upper chest with absolute ease.
He cuts off an attempt to circle out with a vicious swing and forces you onto your back foot immediately. His assault pushes your reflexes to their absolute limit, and even when you manage to draw the club, you have to settle for just intercepting potentially-lethal hits. The flesh wounds begin to pile up as steel and alien carapace clash.
It's no wonder they're so afraid of this guy; his speed's off the charts. Yumie isn't this fast. Eileen isn't this fast. Not only that, he's strong enough to push your weapon back despite its great bulk. Any normal person, any normal Hunter even, would likely go down to his first strike.
But normal people don't get up from two knockdowns to KO the Jersey Devil in seven. Though it costs you a few of your favorite tendons and more blood than most would be comfortable with, you weather the storm and Arseface's torrent of strikes slows down long enough for you to confirm your suspicions.
Though his physicality is unmatched, his fundamentals are garbage. He's been using the same handful of swings the entire time; no feints, no combinations, no real understanding of footwork. You're not sure this guy's ever been pushed. Hell, you're hard-pressed to think of anyone who even could push him, besides you and that bitey Protestant shitstain. Aw, I love you too.
With a blur of motion you're getting better and better at perceiving, he reaches into his coat and draws a pistol. Nobody taught him the principle of center mass, however, and you weave past the two shots that erupt from it. You step back into range, angling towards his right to draw out the diagonal swing he loves to lead with. Sure enough, he takes the bait.
You bring up the Club o' Righteousness and catch the blade between several of its wicked protrusions. With a grin, you twist it like this.
He's so surprised that even his insane reflexes can't save him from the beam of light that erupts from the tip and catches him square in the chest.
The explosion sends him flying backwards, feathery cloak ablaze. He desperately tries to scramble his way back to his feet and pat out the flames, though his ravaged right shoulder makes this an almost comical effort. You take a step towards him and he flinches, nearly falling over himself in an effort to get away from you.
With his one good hand, he fishes among his clothing, searching for something while keeping his focus on you. For maybe the first time in his fighting life, you made him look stupid, and it would take a dozen of those masks to hold in the hate that's practically a physical force at this point.
[] Write in...
--
CURRENT STATUSES:
Anderson: Deep cut in upper chest that caught collarbone, moderate blood loss
Bloody Crow: Severe damage to chest and right shoulder
Last edited:
- Location
- USA
Oh, hey Alucard!.....when you get here?
He's angry, good.
Let's not only keep him that way, but ramp it up.
Let's not only keep him that way, but ramp it up.
- Location
- The Beginning of the End
[X] Shoot him with a laser, before he has time to heal himself.
Okaaay, that's what, twice now?
Yeah, I'm thinking with the soulfuckery that happened when he ate Schrodinger, Alucard (or a hefty chunk of him) got sent in Yharnam, ate the Moon Presence, took its place, then yoinked Anderson's soul here for entertainment.
God damnit anderson. You had a chance to break the fuckers sword. At least you used it to hurt the guy.
Edit: Wait never mind that was apart of the vote. Why didn't people vote to break his sword if we catch it on the spikes?
Last edited by a moderator:
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Smarmy git is everywhere and nowhere right now, ate something that dissagreed with him. He'll work it off in a few decades.
As for the prick in front of us, I suggest we keep up the pain, we have him on the back foot, but be aware the bastard might have a few more tricks up his sleeve.
I'm not sure if numbing mist will fuck with our regeneration, if that's what the cunt is about to throw at us, but I'm not keen to find that out right now.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
He's always been here he just finds it more entertaining to watch.
- Location
- USA
[X] LASER HIS FACE OFF!
-[X] if that don't work, keep him at a distance while launching Explosive Bayonets at him.
-[X] if he tries to get anything out of his coat, throw even more bayonets at him. Try to sever one of his arms off if possible.
-[X] if that don't work, keep him at a distance while launching Explosive Bayonets at him.
-[X] if he tries to get anything out of his coat, throw even more bayonets at him. Try to sever one of his arms off if possible.
Now he's focused on the club!
Ahahahaha!
[X] If ye have the strength for it, put a ward up around the bastard and wait for him to test it. Then start quoting some Boondock's Saints at him. But be ready, you recognize that frantic grabbin'.
-[X] If ye can't make the ward work, then quote anyway, but make sure to pin him down with some explosive bayonets every couple of words, too. Can't be lettin' him get too relaxed while he's reachin' for his Ace in tha Hole. Keep him scared, angry, unbalanced.
--[X] Have a good laugh as he whips it out right as yer party crackers go off, blowing him to kingdom come!
---[X] Be ready to play cricket with the remains. Everything and their mother 'round here can either regenerate or turn into some kinda fucked up monstrosity, and ye don't want to give whatever's left o' him a chance to mess around with ye.
Last edited:
because we don't care about destroying it (also RPG logic), but merely that it broke open his stance, leaving an opening for Anderson to take advantage of and laser him in the face.
Which is what happened.
[X] Quote some Boondock's Saint's at the bastard, he won't know enough to call you out on it!
-[X] Punctuate each sentence with a tossed explosive bayonet into his body. Don't get fancy, you recognize that mad scrambling, he's reachin' for his ace in the hole.
--[X] Have a good laugh as he whips it out right as yer party crackers go off, blowing him to kingdom come!
---[X] Be ready to play cricket with the remains. Everything and their mother 'round here can either regenerate or turn into some kinda fucked up monstrosity, and ye don't want to give whatever's left o' him a chance to mess around with ye.
-[X] Punctuate each sentence with a tossed explosive bayonet into his body. Don't get fancy, you recognize that mad scrambling, he's reachin' for his ace in the hole.
--[X] Have a good laugh as he whips it out right as yer party crackers go off, blowing him to kingdom come!
---[X] Be ready to play cricket with the remains. Everything and their mother 'round here can either regenerate or turn into some kinda fucked up monstrosity, and ye don't want to give whatever's left o' him a chance to mess around with ye.
I only have one worry about all this. Ordinarily...I wouldn't think a guy as prone and pissed off as this one would be able to use a flash step style technique or use the proper focus for a teleport...
Wait!
Better idea!
Edit:
Okay, edited the vote slightly to account for the need for containment.
So if Anderson can manage it, a Ward goes up while Arseface is reaching for his healing juice. Arseface tries to pull any teleport shenanigans, and he goes all bug zapper before Anderson re-engages him to put an end to it. Probably via Laser of Irony potshots.
If Anderson can't manage it, then he needs to be ready for Arseface to come back into the game, fully healed.
But if there's one thing that'll hopefully keep the guy off balance, then it's gonna be all the Boondock Saints quotes pissing off Arseface to the point where he's too enraged to even think clearly enough to use whatever advantages he does have over Anderson.
Wait!
Better idea!
Edit:
Okay, edited the vote slightly to account for the need for containment.
So if Anderson can manage it, a Ward goes up while Arseface is reaching for his healing juice. Arseface tries to pull any teleport shenanigans, and he goes all bug zapper before Anderson re-engages him to put an end to it. Probably via Laser of Irony potshots.
If Anderson can't manage it, then he needs to be ready for Arseface to come back into the game, fully healed.
But if there's one thing that'll hopefully keep the guy off balance, then it's gonna be all the Boondock Saints quotes pissing off Arseface to the point where he's too enraged to even think clearly enough to use whatever advantages he does have over Anderson.
Last edited:
Because it's a katana. Therefore it was folded 1000 times. Impossible to break.
But more seriously, that katana would've been made of really tough shit to be able to cut reinforced doors and bones of eldritch abominations. Anderson would've needed more leverage to break it in half.
Also, come on, are you seriously contemplating on breaking our God-given loot?
reborn214
Deep in thought
- Location
- California
Because it's a katana. Therefore it was folded 1000 times. Impossible to break.
But more seriously, that katana would've been made of really tough shit to be able to cut reinforced doors and bones of eldritch abominations. Anderson would've needed more leverage to break it in half.
Also, come on, are you seriously contemplating on breaking our God-given loot?
Yes because it is a heathen blade, powered by heathen blood magic, and is the favored weapon of heathen vampires who kill hunters so their queen can create a Freak Alien Genotype.
You know if Alucard is the Formless Oedon. It would make a surprising amount of sense that he could hear us. I mean that chapel probably is dedicated the Formless Oedon among other Great Ones.
[X] Quote some Boondock's Saint's at the bastard, he won't know enough to call you out on it!
-[X] If ye have the strength for it, put a ward up around the bastard and wait for him to test it. If not, then punctuate each sentence with a tossed explosive bayonet into his body. Don't get fancy, you recognize that mad scrambling, he's reachin' for his ace in the hole.
--[X] Have a good laugh as he whips it out right as yer party crackers go off, blowing him to kingdom come!
---[X] Be ready to play cricket with the remains. Everything and their mother 'round here can either regenerate or turn into some kinda fucked up monstrosity, and ye don't want to give whatever's left o' him a chance to mess around with ye.