TURN - A (Not So) Safe Harbor 1.7
[X] Go for the teenager and then use the shipping container for cover.
You weren't perfect and you knew it.
You freely admitted to yourself that you had problems remembering things, were missing your entire set of armaments, and utterly lacked a knack for writing haiku. You might not mention such things out loud, but you were secure enough in general to acknowledge these flaws.
However these were your flaws and they were all the ones which you wanted.
Thus it was obvious that the pervert had to go.
(Hopefully before you ended up incompetent at anything important. The idea of regularly finding yourself trying to use 'orange' in a rhyming couplet was terrifying... and what if you found yourself unable to do an inner monologue?)
You were still feeling clumsy, but the sensation didn't seem to be going away. Inwardly you railed against the inherent unfairness of the world, that it didn't simply makes things easier for you.
"The inju-"
Ah, nope!
The way that the glow around the hovering woman flared reminded you that this was not the time to begin an extemporous soliloquy on the darkness and angst which shrouded you. A corner of your mind made a note of the thought, filing away with it the added the unfairness that you didn't have time to say something cool.
The rest of your mind, however, was busy with the fact that she had just unleashed a blast far more powerful than the last ones. This one, a burst wider than your fist sizzled through the air parallel to the ground.
It was your body, and your thankfully unimpeded reflexes for evasion, which copied the earlier actions of the man in the rigging and flung you out of the way of something which looked like it would really, really hurt.
And, look, there was this convenient box shaped piece of cover over there!
You felt a savage grin come to your face as you jigged left then right, feeling how much harder it was to do this on land rather than on the seas, and made your way towards the cargo container. Without turning your head from your destination you could see the flares of light, and hear the sounds of concrete shattering, as the glowing woman sent a barrage of increasingly intense blasts in your direction.
You had been rattled by her attacks before, but now you were going to have to take that glowing meat person more seriously or risk getting actually hurt.
With that thought firmly in mind you did you best to cover the remaining distance to the cover as quickly as possible. The lack of water beneath your feet meant that you were having to run, but you were almost th-
SWORD!
With a sound like a dozen knife sets in a tumble dryer (And how did you know what what that sounded like? It was a really odd thing to know what it sounded like...?), the area ahead and around you was suddenly filled with blades. Curved blades jutted from mid air as though to let your momentum slice you in half, knives angled out of the ground as though it was some sort of demented steel porcupine, and swords plummeted with unnatural speed down upon you.
It was a hail of metal and deadly intent. A storm fit to sunder flesh, flay skin, and carve through bone like wax.
"I"
Razor edged scimitars matched themselves against you...
"AM"
Needle sharp daggers stood like caltrops against your feet...
"NOT"
Descending blades impacted your head and shoulders point...
"MEAT!"
You tore through them all.
A hot rage surged through you as you batted aside blades which found no purchase on your flesh. You crushed the daggers beneath feet, the crimson and black metal of your limbs sneering at such things. You ignored the falling swords and plummeting spears like so much chaff.
As you rounded the corner out of sight you focused on the larger aspect of yourself, scraping a broad mark in the concrete as you killed your forward motion like a ship run aground. There was hot anger in you as you grabbed hold of the meat person... the 'teenager' who had been lurking behind the oversized box.
There were hot tears in your eyes at what had happened, rage fighting with deep disappointment. They had tried to kill you. Just kill you like that. You had thought that they had respected you, the glowing woman working up to her heavier guns in order to conserve whatever passed for her munitions.
They had tried to kill you like you were made out of meat!
With one hand you seized him and slammed him against the container, feeling things squish in a deeply satisfying way, and you voiced the aspect of it which showed that they were just mocking you.
"You bastards scratched my paint!"
A pattern of grey-blue streaks from the blades, where the softer metal had deposited itself on your harder hull, marred the glorious darkness of your blackened limbs. A few faint cuts also littered the paler materials which passed for your flesh, but they were literally cosmetic injuries.
"It's going to take ages to buff that out," You informed him, pouring your emotions into you voice and feeling the flesh under your hand quiver in response. "How am I supposed to strike terror into enemies if I look like I've been half covered with incompetent graffiti?!"
Perhaps in answer to your demand, or perhaps because you had been punctuating your words with another slam against the shipping container, the teenager passed out. Which, admittedly, did make you feel a little better.
Or maybe it was because your bout of 'clumsiness' was now fading?
From here, what do you do now?
(Vote indicates intentions. Write-ins preferred, but mind length limit.)
[ ] Brace yourself here for the arrival of that... Wolf? Blade? Thing?
[ ] Human shield at the ready! Charge back to get the rigging guy.
[ ] Meat people are poor melee weapons. Try this one as a projectile against the glowing woman.
[ ] Teenagers make good distractions. Toss him then dash for the water.
[ ] <Write-in: A sentence or so as per above...>
You weren't perfect and you knew it.
You freely admitted to yourself that you had problems remembering things, were missing your entire set of armaments, and utterly lacked a knack for writing haiku. You might not mention such things out loud, but you were secure enough in general to acknowledge these flaws.
However these were your flaws and they were all the ones which you wanted.
Thus it was obvious that the pervert had to go.
(Hopefully before you ended up incompetent at anything important. The idea of regularly finding yourself trying to use 'orange' in a rhyming couplet was terrifying... and what if you found yourself unable to do an inner monologue?)
You were still feeling clumsy, but the sensation didn't seem to be going away. Inwardly you railed against the inherent unfairness of the world, that it didn't simply makes things easier for you.
"The inju-"
Ah, nope!
The way that the glow around the hovering woman flared reminded you that this was not the time to begin an extemporous soliloquy on the darkness and angst which shrouded you. A corner of your mind made a note of the thought, filing away with it the added the unfairness that you didn't have time to say something cool.
The rest of your mind, however, was busy with the fact that she had just unleashed a blast far more powerful than the last ones. This one, a burst wider than your fist sizzled through the air parallel to the ground.
It was your body, and your thankfully unimpeded reflexes for evasion, which copied the earlier actions of the man in the rigging and flung you out of the way of something which looked like it would really, really hurt.
And, look, there was this convenient box shaped piece of cover over there!
You felt a savage grin come to your face as you jigged left then right, feeling how much harder it was to do this on land rather than on the seas, and made your way towards the cargo container. Without turning your head from your destination you could see the flares of light, and hear the sounds of concrete shattering, as the glowing woman sent a barrage of increasingly intense blasts in your direction.
You had been rattled by her attacks before, but now you were going to have to take that glowing meat person more seriously or risk getting actually hurt.
With that thought firmly in mind you did you best to cover the remaining distance to the cover as quickly as possible. The lack of water beneath your feet meant that you were having to run, but you were almost th-
SWORD!
With a sound like a dozen knife sets in a tumble dryer (And how did you know what what that sounded like? It was a really odd thing to know what it sounded like...?), the area ahead and around you was suddenly filled with blades. Curved blades jutted from mid air as though to let your momentum slice you in half, knives angled out of the ground as though it was some sort of demented steel porcupine, and swords plummeted with unnatural speed down upon you.
It was a hail of metal and deadly intent. A storm fit to sunder flesh, flay skin, and carve through bone like wax.
"I"
Razor edged scimitars matched themselves against you...
"AM"
Needle sharp daggers stood like caltrops against your feet...
"NOT"
Descending blades impacted your head and shoulders point...
"MEAT!"
You tore through them all.
A hot rage surged through you as you batted aside blades which found no purchase on your flesh. You crushed the daggers beneath feet, the crimson and black metal of your limbs sneering at such things. You ignored the falling swords and plummeting spears like so much chaff.
As you rounded the corner out of sight you focused on the larger aspect of yourself, scraping a broad mark in the concrete as you killed your forward motion like a ship run aground. There was hot anger in you as you grabbed hold of the meat person... the 'teenager' who had been lurking behind the oversized box.
There were hot tears in your eyes at what had happened, rage fighting with deep disappointment. They had tried to kill you. Just kill you like that. You had thought that they had respected you, the glowing woman working up to her heavier guns in order to conserve whatever passed for her munitions.
They had tried to kill you like you were made out of meat!
With one hand you seized him and slammed him against the container, feeling things squish in a deeply satisfying way, and you voiced the aspect of it which showed that they were just mocking you.
"You bastards scratched my paint!"
A pattern of grey-blue streaks from the blades, where the softer metal had deposited itself on your harder hull, marred the glorious darkness of your blackened limbs. A few faint cuts also littered the paler materials which passed for your flesh, but they were literally cosmetic injuries.
"It's going to take ages to buff that out," You informed him, pouring your emotions into you voice and feeling the flesh under your hand quiver in response. "How am I supposed to strike terror into enemies if I look like I've been half covered with incompetent graffiti?!"
Perhaps in answer to your demand, or perhaps because you had been punctuating your words with another slam against the shipping container, the teenager passed out. Which, admittedly, did make you feel a little better.
Or maybe it was because your bout of 'clumsiness' was now fading?
oOo
Out of the Fog
A (Not So) Safe Harbor 1.7
oOo
You have minor injuries and 'scuffed paintwork'.
Worse yet, your feelings are really hurt.
oOo
Out of the Fog
A (Not So) Safe Harbor 1.7
oOo
You have minor injuries and 'scuffed paintwork'.
Worse yet, your feelings are really hurt.
oOo
From here, what do you do now?
(Vote indicates intentions. Write-ins preferred, but mind length limit.)
[ ] Brace yourself here for the arrival of that... Wolf? Blade? Thing?
[ ] Human shield at the ready! Charge back to get the rigging guy.
[ ] Meat people are poor melee weapons. Try this one as a projectile against the glowing woman.
[ ] Teenagers make good distractions. Toss him then dash for the water.
[ ] <Write-in: A sentence or so as per above...>
