Final Kingdom MUSH - User contributions [en]

Tipping Point

2013-05-06T23:41:57Z

Joe:

{{Cutscene Header
|Synopsis=Clayton's new outlook on life.
|Cast of Characters=Clayton
}}
John Clayton woke up as he usually did in his four post bed with the crimson drapes, egyptian cotton sheets, and goose down pillows. Just two though, none of that multiple pillow nonsense women like to do. He liked luxury but was still a man, after all.

Today felt different. He'd felt like he'd been in a haze the past several weeks. He recalls a black market auction gone wrong and being in Fluorgis. But it all seemed like dreams. "Hmm, dreams. That's right." He imagined himself throwing open the curtains and gazing on his manor grounds back in London, the servants tending the lawn.

Then he noticed the Heartless surrounding his bed.

He didn't scream, merely looked at them with a dull curiosity as he he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. They weren't Shadows, they looked like monkeys. Well, freakish facsimiles of them. He wondered if he was in one of those waking nightmares; at this point they'd all jump on him and he'd wake up with a yelp and sweating buckets.

But they did not move. They just stared at him, like dumb animals.

Clayton sniffed, then threw the covers away. He was dressed in his silk pyjamas, imported from India. He was going to get his shotgun, then, and take care of this. Then one of them grabbed his slippers and put them on for him. "Wh..." He stood up, and another hopped on the bed and slipped his smoking jacket over him.

The hunter guffawed; now this was service. He was suddenly struck by a sense of clarity. Why, these Heartless were certainly useful, and powerful. Why did he spend all that time hunting them? It was silly, a waste of energy. Perhaps they saw him as some sort of authority figure to venerate. They were much more civilized than many so-called humans he's met.

He went to the window. He ought to fire the staff, yes. That seems appropriate; after all, he wouldn't have to pay these creatures. He could take them on hunts...hunts with his invisible friend. He suddenly remembered he HAD a friend no one else could see. His servants eyeballed him whenever he talked to it; idiots. Just another reason to fire them. What was he thinking about earlier, dreams? How silly. Dreams are for boys.

He smiled thinly. Perhaps it was time he started another series of hunting expeditions.

Tipping Point

2013-05-06T23:37:56Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Synopsis=Clayton's new outlook on life. |Cast of Characters=Clayton }} John Clayton woke up as he usually did in his four post bed with the crimson drapes, ..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Synopsis=Clayton's new outlook on life.
|Cast of Characters=Clayton
}}
John Clayton woke up as he usually did in his four post bed with the crimson drapes, egyptian cotton sheets, and goose down pillows. Just two though, none of that multiple pillow nonsense women like to do. He liked luxury but was still a man, after all.

Today felt different. He'd felt like he'd been in a haze the past several weeks. He recalls a black market auction gone wrong and being in Fluorgis. But it all seemed like dreams. "Hmm, dreams. That's right." He imagined himself throwing open the curtains and gazing on his manor grounds back in London, the servants tending the lawn.

Then he noticed the Heartless surrounding his bed.

He didn't scream, merely looked at them with a dull curiosity as he he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. They weren't Shadows, they looked like monkeys. Well, freakish facsimiles of them. He wondered if he was in one of those waking nightmares; at this point they'd all jump on him and he'd wake up with a yelp and sweating buckets.

But they did not move. They just stared at him, like dumb animals.

Clayton sniffed, then threw the covers away. He was dressed in his silk pyjamas, imported from India. He was going to get his shotgun, then, and take care of this. Then one of them grabbed his slippers and put them on for him. "Wh..." He stood up, and another hopped on the bed and slipped his smoking jacket over him.

The hunter guffawed; now this was service. He was suddenly struck by a sense of clarity. Why, these Heartless were certainly useful, and powerful. Why did he spend all that time hunting them? It was silly, a waste of energy. Perhaps they saw him as some sort of authority figure to venerate.

He went to the window. He ought to fire the staff, yes. That seems appropriate; after all, he wouldn't have to pay these creatures. He could take them on hunts...hunts with his invisible friend. He suddenly remembered he HAD a friend no one else could see. His servants eyeballed him whenever he talked to it; idiots. Just another reason to fire them.

He smiled thinly. Perhaps it was time he started another series of hunting expeditions.

Black Market Bust

2013-05-03T05:25:03Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/04/30 |Location=Giza PLains |Synopsis=Clayton and his thugs set up camp to hawk their illegal animal wares, until some people take offense to ..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/04/30
|Location=Giza PLains
|Synopsis=Clayton and his thugs set up camp to hawk their illegal animal wares, until some people take offense to it.
|Cast of Characters=Avira, Clayton, Artemis Eurus, Caran Steel, Sydney Losstarot
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' The interconnectivity of various chunks of worlds means a new market for exotic goods. Spices, foodstuffs, medicines, clothing, entertainment, you name it. The exchange of goods tends to be heavily regulated to avoid polluting the respective histories of the worlds, such as selling watches in a medieval setting. One thing remains true: black market goods are always in demand, especially wild animal parts. On the vast Giza Plains, hidden from plain sight behind a large hill and near the swamplands, a sale is going on. Poachers have set up a veritable market of goods from hides and horns to meats and organs for interested buyers. Not just creatures such as chocobo or moogle from this area, but exotic creatures from all over. Crushed rhino horn, dragon eggs, kraken eyes, werewolf pelts. All for the hungry eyes of the rich and loose of moral. Clayton is heading this sale, cutting a dashing figure as he sits near a wagon smoking a pipe and watching his men, either thugs brought from other lands or nearby hoods looking for work, armed with guns, tending the tables. One buyer is here today, a rich nobleman of nearby Carwen who likes to collect strange things, even those of the unsavory sort. He is fat and wears a lot of pink. Clayton thinks he looks like a walking, talking peach.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' A lone figure walks through the tall-grasses of the plains, his mind wandering as he thinks about his purpose for being on the plains. He's not got the slightest care for whatever poachy activities Clayton may have going. In fact, as he stumbles over the hill by complete chance, he gets a brilliant idea. Shapeshift: Average Goug citizen. Brown hair, white t-shirt, the works. Sydney announces his presents with a loud "AHEM.", attempting to get the gentlemens attention. "Evening, Gentlemen. What wares have you on sale, merchant?" He asks curiously, raising his brow at the scene.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' A mark has gone out. A most unusual mark indeed. Avira is still fairly new to the world of mark-taking so it comes to some surprise that one of the more recent ones she comes across is not the typical go-hunt-this-monster-bring-proof-of-your-kill sort of deal. No, the mark she examined was written up as nothing short of a serial murderer peddling moogle organs somewhere on the Giza Plains. The wording was quite strong in that regard and while it did mention other creature products being sold, the bit about the moogles was quite emphasized. In fact, Clan Dagda had actually contacted her personally, after months of silence, with news of this mark. Of course, Clan Dagda is captained by Mabo the Moogle. Naturally, Avira is not alone as she slips into the crowd of armed thugs and prospective buyers. There are at least two others with her, cloaked like she is, taller in size. One is human while the other is, unfortunately, a bangaa. Only when Avira spots Clayton sitting there, pleased as pie, does she realize that her third companion could cause their mission significant problems.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Perhaps a bit of shopping was just what was called for today. An emotionally charged reunion behind her, Artemis is making her way back to the Heretics when she notices the market. She is dressed appropriately for the climate in soft, earth colors rather than her blue and gold armor, her mask one of simple white--bone, from the looks of it. The wares are certainly interesting, ranging from the common to the so obscure Artemis isn't sure what one would do with it. She peruses however, with the discerning eye of a hunter. Hefting a good sized horn in her hand she judges would look excellent carved and filled with mead, Artemis approaches Clayton, drawn by the smell of his pipe. Though she has looked at the various furs and meats, she does her own hunting generally. Artemis has also never met a moogle. "I have a few questions about your wares if you please--first of all, how much do you want for this horn?" she asks, establishing that she is a customer. She nods to the peach man and Sydney however, recognizing they were here first. Avira and her companions are noticed by the samurai, but she thinks nothing of it by the look on her face, no recognition dawning. Of course, Artemis remembers her, but she also remembers Avira does not want to be associated with her like. She couldn't blame her.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' CARAN STEEL. In this new world, the former student plans to live his dream of being an ADVENTURER! And so, he has beguin studying the ways of local adventurers. And this CLAYTON has caught his attention. He reads about the exploits of this man, traveling to see all kinds of cool places (which Caran makes mental notes to visit someday) ...and that brings him to the rumors that the man is involved in a black market that sells the body parts of /people/! An avid fantasy reader, Caran has no problem understanding the idea of other intelligent races, even though his own world was only populated by humes. The black chocobo runs across the plains with the tireless strength of a magical construct. Caran dismounts by the hill, circling around to see... The black market. This is it?! The only person he recognizes here is Clayton... and it looks like he's dealing with a couple of customers now. What kind of terrible people these must be, buying such things! With forced nonchalance, he approaches, and pretends to browse the wares of a nearby stall while listening to Clayton and his customers.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' A burly looking bald man with stubble and squinty eyes looks up from where he's chopping up a chocobo corpse. "Fruits and vegetables, whatsit look like?" He answers loudly in a thick East End accent. The other men all have a laugh at that, except Clayton, who motions for them to hush. He gets up, smiling cordially at the newcomer, though his eyes are suspicious. "Exotic goods from all the worlds, sir. The finest harvest from all manner of beasts and monsters. Please, take a look." The newcomer doesn't look like he's made of money, so Clayton doesn't give him any regard further, sitting back down and taking out his pipe. He eyes the cloaked figures, but such sights were common. They've made trades and sales all over the place, never in one location more than a day. Disguised figures, people not wanting to be caught buying illegal merchandise, came and went. One of them looked funny, though. He couldn't quite say why. Another of the men, this one looking dark skinned with a scar over his eye, adresses Artemis. "55 gil for that one," he says.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' Sydney looks about, his eyes wide as he looks at the assortment of goods from all corners of the world, looking slightly amazed. He doesn't actually regard the Chocobutcher, since that wasn't actually an illegal practice in Valendia. He looks about, till he notices the moogle skins. Oh boy, you've done it now. Grasping one of the skins, he walks towards Clayton as if he plans on making a purchase. "My my, merchant. Mindless animals born for the slaughter are one thing..." He says. The moment anyone looking at Sydney blinks, his entire form will shift to his original. "But to kill a creature such as a Moogle? Now that is just low..." He says, narrowing his eyes at Clayton. "Perhaps you'll have better luck peddling in hell."

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' ...Moogle skins?! Caran has seen live moogles in Traverse town... this is sickening. Time to cut to the chase. ...But he's beaten to it by Sydney. Oh well. He stands next to the other man, glaring at Clayton. "You call yourself an adventurer!" He points at the hunter. "Adventurers are heroes! They use their skills to protect the powerless! They accomplish great deeds and bring more good into the world! They are HEROES! But you... You're no adventurer..." Caran's eyes flash. "You're a /MONSTER/." The red mage puts his hand on the hilt of his sword. "And you know what adventurers do to monsters..."

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' "And did you kill the beast yourself?" she asks, examining the horn further. While her clothes are fairly plain, her manner suggests she has had the education having money can buy. Artemis looks over toward the chocobo being butchered and thinks nothing of it. Nice enough creatures, but one has to eat and they /are/ delicious. However, it would seem some of the others are getting up in arms over something? A moogle? "What is a moogle?" she inquires, while digging into her pouch for some gil for the horn. She passes it over to the man with the scar about his eye, pockets the horn, then stands back to wait for answers, wondering which side she will be defending here.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' The cloaked trio don't ask any questions about the goods, but they do seem to talk amongst themselves, occasionally pointing at...well, it's difficult to tell exactly what they're pointing at. Surely it is the fine goods laid out for the customers to see, no? No. They're doing a headcount. While the customers, especially the fat one in pink, are certainly noted, they're far more interested in the number of armed thugs. With this many, an all-out attack might be unwise as Dagda was literally outgunned in this instance. The trio meet up again after a headcount is taken to quietly whisper some strategy amongst themselves. Maybe take the ringleader hostage? One of them could distract him while the other could slip up behind and- Their plotting amongst themselves abruptly stops when a pair of other 'customers' grow outraged enough to start lecturing Clayton and his merry band of mercenaries. Avira motions the other two to promptly get out of dodge before people start getting shot. The clanmates flee to the side of the wagon to take cover. "The mark makes special mention for bringing in Clayton." Avira hisses to the others. "You both grab him in the confusion, I'll-" She looks to the wagon and the horses, "-get our ride. Go." Avira departs from the pair, circling around to the beasts of burden.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Clayton sits with one leg over the other, still smoking his pipe and looking at Sydney coolly as he reveals himself, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I'm quite ready to hunt demon yet. I'm no merchant either, I'm afraid; I leave the numbers to the help." He blows smoke at Sydney, giving him a smug look before glancing to Caran. "You certainly seemed to be worked up, lad. You realize these moogles are a feral breed I've elected to hunt on another world?" He is lying, but he is comfortable with that and figures they can't disprove it. "Feral as in, rabid animals rather than cute and cuddly little people," he says as if lecturing children. "Now why don't you two calm down..." His men turn to face the two, hands on their weapons - mostly guns of various sorts. The bald butcher has a huge cleaver the size of a human child. The fat noblemen sucks in his teeth. "I can't stand these peasant rabblerousers," he says in a quavery voice to his own servant. Avira's crew go unnoticed, meanwhile. The dark skinned man standing near Artemis fingers his scimitar. "A small white furry creature with a pink antennae bob," he answers to her off-handedly.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' The fire goes out of Caran. With everything else going on, that /sounds/ plausible. "There are feral moogles?" He looks at Sydney, as if the man might know. "...Are there feral /humes/ on some worlds?" He tries to imagine that.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' As an afterthought, Caran pulls out his radio and tries asking /there/ if feral moogles are a thing.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' "Of course. I know one, in fact," Clayton says casually. "Chap by the name of Tarzan. Raised by gorillas. Often if a human child is seperated from their parents, and left on their own, they might grow up wild and uncivilized. I met another named Gau over on the Veldt in another world. Dreadful business, that. It's up to proper humans to teach them the civilized ways and raise them out of barbarity."

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' Caran frowns at the lack of reply from his radio, then looks at Clayton. "That's not the same thing! A hume is still a hume, even if they're raised by animals! You're saying you found moogles raised by animals and you killed them?! No, /hunted/ them?!"

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' Sydney raises his palm towards Clayton, and the weight of Dark magic grows heavy in the air for a few moments. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head. Dunno what he was trying to do, but from the looks of it, it ain't working. "Now that evokes an interesting discussion, indeed. Is he still human, when the only difference is his adopted parentage? Would a moogle raised by humans be different? We humes are naught but animals, and you appear to be an especially apathetic breed." He says, a foul grin forming. He clacks his claws together, making a slight plink...plink...plink...noise as he thinks to himself. He probably should buff or something right now, but it'd be rude not to let Clayton have the first shot. Sydney turns his head towards Artemis, raising a brow. "Hmph. Have you not seen the Siedge Wealde, Eurus? T'was where moogles once dwelt. /once/." ...Sydney /might/ have poked around in Agrias's head a little. Don't tell Ramza!

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' "Feral means little, wild does not mean without rights," she replies. "These creatures are intelligent I take it?" she asks, though by everyone's reactions she knows the answer. Artemis glances toward the dark skinned man fingering his scimitar. She doesn't even reach for her katana, just gives him a /look/. Artemis is aware of Avira and her companions moving, but she draws no attention to them as she begins to walk toward Clayton, frowning gently. "Uncivilized? You are a predator, like an animal is a predator. You are an animal, I am an animal....civilized....tch," she replies. "I'm supposing there will be a fight--hunter to hunter I challenge you," she says to Clayton. Artemis looks toward Sydney then as he says her name. They have not been introduced... "No, I have not."

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' This was not the spectacular diversion that Clan Dagda was hoping for! What a shame that Clayton is so good at drawing lots of attention to himself. But as Caren and Artems and Sydney and Clayton exchange words, the two other members of Clan Dagda ease themselves into position, flanking Clayton, each about four or so feet away. Avira herself walks to the nearest horse and strokes its neck, glancing over her shoulder to check, every now and then, on the others. "It isssss unfortunate, sssssir, that you have so many dissssatisssfied customers." the cloaked Clan Dagda member to the right speaks, no doubt revealing himself as a bangaa thanks to his accent. As the realization sets in, both him and the other Clan Dagda member, who turns out to be a male hume, push their cloaks back, each drawing pistols of their own. In the case of the bangaa, his appears to be specially designed to accomodate his hands. Both aim their weapons at Clayton. "Sorry dear." the male hume smiles apologetically at Artemis. "We need to borrow this man for a little while. Clayton, /sir/." His voice takes a hard edge when addressing the hunter. "Get on the wagon."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' As people start calling Clayton out on his BS, his smile slowly fades and he sits forward. "I'm sorry, is this philosophy hour on the Giza Plains? You people and your generalizations! 'Humans are animals', are you in grade school?" He sneers. "Look at our works, and our minds. We have evolved beyond mere /animals/, that is /science/. Our obligation, nay, our DUTY AS A SPECIES, hinges on establishing and exerting our dominance over lesser beings, and uplifting others from savagery into something greater as we stride into the future." He stands up. "It is true, I am a predator. The ultimate predator. Have you ever waited for hours in a steaming jungle, sweat dripping from your brow, the tension and adrenaline building within you as your muscles become taught, waiting for your quarry to appear? Then, when that magical moment arrives, a big ferocious beast, the king of his element, right there in your face. The sheer terror turning to pleasure as you make yourself known and take that final shot! You all are soft looking, so I wouldn't expect much. I provide a service to others, and these things here? Merely the fruits of my labors. Show some respect!" He is loud enough to get the attention of everyone at the sale. Then the Clan Dagda members speak. "Ah, of course, this is perfect. You people know I fought in many battles, not only for the BRitish Empire, but against the HEartless? That I helped bring down the Kurt Zisa at Fluorgis? Or mustered a force to bring in the Devil Elf? Of course not." He holds up his hands as if surrendering, to just let them take him in. He waits. His expression remains stoic, but the rage and the darkness now builds up within him. He ducks, grabbing his shotgun and twisting into a crouch, levelling it at the Bangaa's face, firing a full blast of twin buckshot. He then slams it backwards to smash the human with the butt of the gun, before LEAPING and making a grab for him to use as a shield. "Treachery! Kill these people, NOW!" Then, his men draw their weapons and prepare for a fight. The dark-skinned man with the scimitar turns slowly towards Artemis, while the fat bald butcher is eyeing up Caran.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' Sydney grins, shaking his head. Shadows rise from his shadow, eyes hungrily peering forth at Clayton, before turning his attentions towards the dark skinned man. Might as well go for the one without the hostage. "...Kill him." He says bluntly, and the Shadows all leap forth, slashing wildly as they attempt to overwhelm the dark-skinned man. "Hmph. Indeed, hunting is quite the honourable profession. But murder is another game." SHINK. Sydney brandishes his claws menacingly. "A game I'd be happy to play with you."

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis sighs. This is quickly becoming not much fun. At least she had a new mead-horn though. At his description of the hunt, Artemis smiles slowly. "Aye, I have--have you ever face down a raging wild boar with nothing but a short spear you made yourself? Have you felt it sink into the flesh, felt the great beast's spirit leave it? Have you ever tasted the hot blood of the heart gush into your mouth as you take a bite? Tasted the spirit of the beast and respected it?" she asks. "But we are not speaking of boar, are we? We are speaking of a person capable of speech, culture...tch," she says, not yet drawing her blade. It seems there are enough here eager to draw blood--and once she starts, it is not likely this altercation would satisfy. Then /she'll/ need to go hunting! She is poised however, for attack if it comes.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' The male hume holds up his free hand, "We've been briefed. But as you hinted earlier, now is not the time for debates. We are here with purpose." "So letsssss get down to businessss." The bangaa adds, keeping his weapon trained on Clayton. Darkness starts to build. Avira, where she stands, mostly out of dodge, shudders. Several things suddenly happen at once. As Clayton moves, the bangaa drops his aim and fires a heavy shot from his musket-like gun at the hunter's feet. The male hume, seeing Clayton aiming the gun at his clanmate's face, suddenly jumps on him from behind and the aim winds up being far lower, blasting the bangaa in the gut with buckshot. Clayton rams the butt of his shotgun into the face of the hume latched behind him and he staggers backwards, stunned from the blow. He's in no position to keep Clayton from grabbing him. Witnessing things going south at lighting speed, Avira runs around the front of the wagon to the slowly crumpling bangaa, grabbing onto him and dragging him backwards. "C'mon, keep it together, hang in there. ****!" She drops her voice, muttering something to her clanmate.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' Sydney's clacking claws draw Caran's attention. What...? But, there's too much else going on. Clayton gives his speech. "Grade schoolers? No... I am a member of Alexander Academy's Behemoth Class! And it is the duty of the strong to help and protect the weak!" Caran shoots back. And then... Clayton starts to make an escape! "I have not spent hours in the jungle, but let me show you what months in a library can do!" Suddenly, a /winged cat/ of all things leaps out of Caran's messenger bag and flutters distractingly around the butcher. "Meow!" wait, did the cat just /say/ meow? 'Fragment of the deepest darkness, free yourself from the cosmos!' Caran mimes drawing a sword, and black lightning arcs between his hands. 'Blade of nothingness,colder than coldest ice! Let my power be made manifest!' The dark lightning grows thicker, resembling a jagged tear in reality held in Caran's hands like a giant sword. 'Cut a swath of destruction! Blade that can slay the mightiest giants! BLACK BLAAAAAAAAAAADE!' The lightning-like energy coalesces into a clear, straight-edged shape -- a sword of pure blackness that reflects no light, held in Caran's hand. He swings it at the butcher's cleaver, trying to disarm the man before dashing towards Clayton!

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' The dark-skinned swordsman is surprised to find Shadows appear here. The buyers start to panic at the violence and scatter as the rest of the men open fire with their guns on Sydney, Caran, and Artemis. Tables are overturned, the camp quickly becomes chaotic. The dark-skinned man is knocked over, but sliced clean through the fire Shadow and kicks the other two away, leaping up as he brandishes his scimitar. He is from Agrabah, and a rather unpleasant bandit from there too. Clayton is busy using the hume as a shield as he begins firing shotgun blasts at those that oppose him, each shot causing a loud and thunderous BOOM sound. "A woman knows nothing about hunting," he shoots back to Artemis. "You have no place in a man's world, you freakish tart!" The butcher looks at the flying kitty. "You wot mate?" he grunts, trying to swing at it. This distracts him long enough for Caran to come in and slice the butcher's cleaver in two. "You lil...I'll 'ook you in the gabba fer that!" Clayton eventually shoves the hume away, who sports a few wounds from stray fire, and rounds on the first man, Sydney. He levels his shotgun and fires several shots into him, getting close to thwack him in the chin with the butt of his gun.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' VWOOOM. Sydney goes wide-eyed, barely teleporting in time to avoid being shot. Dark Knights? Not a problem for Sydney. Tree-wizards? Sydney ain't scared. But guns are a whole new game. One he's going to play with cautiously. Keeping his distance between himself and Clayton, he chuckles. "Firearms? Funny. You don't look like a machinist." Don't let the mocking get to you, though. Sydneys scared on the inside. So clearly the obvious way to counter that would be with inside-attacks! Sydney raises his palm at Clayton, at first appearing as though he's doing nothing. Clayton might feel something strange...as if something were inside him, hands preparing themselves to crush his very heart. Sydney begins to slowly apply pressure, hoping to get a good grip. Sadly, its a purely magical attack. There's no actual hand gripping Claytons heart...but it'll feel like it, if he doesn't move out of the way fast enough. Sydney laughs, shaking his head as he surveys Caran. "Incantations? What a positively /ancient/ form of magic." The shadows from earlier disappate as they're cleaved through. However, instead of returning to the ethereal voidy darkness, they return to Sydneys shadow. How odd...

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Freakish tart? Really? This actually makes her laugh. As if she hasn't heard worse! "You sound threatened," she replies with a chuckle. Then, she's being shot at. That will not do. Artemis blinks out of the way as soon as the trigger is pulled, reappearing with her sword drawn, only a few feet away from Clayton and to his left, slicing out with her katana in several rapid strikes to his arms, the steel of her blade perfectly sharpened to cut through armor, never mind flesh. She aims to disable him, make him drop that gun by cutting into the muscles and tendons of his arm. Then, she throws out a hand a wave a force blasts from her, telekinetic energy slamming into Clayton like a hammer. "No need to be rude. I cannot abide rudeness," she says.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' Blam blam! Caran dashes in, only to get shot at! "Gnaaah! OW!" He stumbles to the ground, his sword fraying at the edges, like black flame. "Caran!" The cat shouts, its job of distracting the butcher done, it flies over to its master, paws glowing a white that then washes over him, healing the wounds. The sword again becomes solid and sharp. Caran slowly stands up. "Thanks." He says to Ketan, then: "Yes. It is ancient and powerful magic!" he replies to Sydney. He brandishes the sword at the butcher in a 'stay back!' gesture, as Ketan takes off again, flying over the fight. "I just cut through a metal cleaver. You /really/ wanna fight me?"

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Avira really dislikes dealing with guns. While she herself wasn't being shot at this second, that could easily change-and looking at the aftermath of her poor bangaa friend here? While chaos quickly looms, Avira works to get the bangaa up onto the wagon. The male hume finds himself as a human shield, though he mostly serves to fend of Caran's advance until Clayton pushes him aside. Recovered from the blow to the head, he staggers a few steps before stumbling over to the wagon. "How is he?" the man asks of Avira. "He'll live, but we need to get him healed as soon as possible." she says, "We're not making our stretch goal today. Time to break and swipe things. Make it so they won't hold it here again at least." she nods towards the wagon and the hume too scales it. Avira rushes around back to the horses and climbs atop the back of one of them. She leans foward, drawing in a breath before speaking her beastmaster voice. "Run! Run from the swamp!" Not that it's THAT necessary to command horses, beside the fact that Avira has never ridden a horsel before.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' "You don't look much like a man either, so I suppose both our perceptions are a bit off today, eh?" Clayton cracks, seeing through that chuckle of Sydney's. Suddenly, he freezes, as something grips his heart. His eyes bulge, he starts to sweat, as the magical power takes hold. But then, something fights back, a shadowy power that sends a jolt through the magical channel back to Sydney. Clayton is blown backwards, sliding on his feet but managing to remain upright. Perhaps too agile for an older human gent with just a gun? Movement to his left. He sees Artemis come in with her katana but is already backpedalling away from the strikes, firing repeatedly at her. Then, he has to reload. He does so behind a tree, but her telekinetic energy blows the tree apart and sends Clayton flying, landing on his face. "ARGH!" Now that was a doozy. The butcher looks at Caran, then his blade. "Sod it," he says, and makes a break for it. Now people are scattering as they fear arrest or death, to the four winds. Slowly, Clayton rises, noticing that his men are scattering. Blasted fools; evidently money can't buy bravery. Knowing he's outgunned, Clayton notices the horses are fleeing. He lunges, grabbing the loose reins of the horse, unable to walk due to a large splinter in his leg. As a result he is dragged across the ground, faster than he would be on foot, but well, it's not fun to be dragged by a horse.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' "Ungah!" Sydney lets out a yell of pain as the jolt flies through the channel, unable to defend himself against it while he's still connected. He releases his grip in the process, flying back a few steps. His return to his feet is...much less graceful, involving a couple rolls through the dirt and a hard hit against a tree. He rises to his feet, dusting himself off as he watches him fly away into the sunset. Yelling after the cart as it rolls away, he shouts "Farewell, peasant girl!" Though it might sound rude, his tone is kind(er than usual), and its stated more matter of factly than anything. As for Artemis..."Hmph. Good work, Eurus. Most impressive." He says, eyeing the now-blown-apart tree. Caran just gets an odd look. As fabulous as that outfit is, it sure doesn't inspire conversation.

:'''[[Caran Steel]] has posed:''' Ketan hears that someone needs healing immediately! He dives for the cart, "Did someone say healing?" If allowed, he'll land by the Bangaa and channel healing energy. He's not as powerful as a real mage, and it /was/ a point-blank shotgun blast to the face, but this is better than nothing, right? Caran, meanwhile, turns away from the butcher as he's /finally/ free to fight Clayton... and woah, it seems everyone here has strange powers he's unfamiliar with! But then, with his dark spells, he's one to talk. He starts running towards Clayton, only for the hunter to grab onto one of those 'horses'. "Hey! Hey, get back here!" Caran stops, and waves his hand. A glowing door of light appears in front of him, and above Clayton, and he steps through "I've got you!" -- but has misjudged the horse's speed, and he just falls face-first on the ground. "Oof!" He lifts his head and glares. The doors blink out, and another pair of doors starts to form... and then blink out before opening, as Caran's overuse of powerful magic catches up with him. His sword flares out and dissipates in his outsretched hand, and he slumps on the ground, panting.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis watches as Clayton is dragged away by a horse, a less than glorious exit, but she will let him go. There are enough out for his blood. Artemis is more interested in Sydney. At his compliment she bows her head slightly in acknowledgement. "And yourself...but I'm inclined to ask how you know me, for I don't believe we have been introduced."

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' Sydney grins, shaking his head. "Oh, I don't know you. But I know /of/ you. You and your little friends are rather bold, standing against the church." He says, clacking his metallic claws together. "It makes sense you'd make a few fans, no?" He says, with an enigmatic grin. The heartless rise from Sydneys shadow, taking a few minutes to survey Artemis. They gaze hungrily, attempting to leave the darkness of his shadow, but seem to be unable to do so. Sydney completely disregards them, however.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis looks toward the Heartless, frowning deeply. "I see," she replies to Sydney. "I think perhaps we should speak further," she invites, then simply begins walking away from the scene.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Caren will have to move quick. Avira and the male hume have hauled the wounded bangaa up onto the wagon. The bangaa lies on his side, groaning, until the conveyed spell takes a bit of the edge off and the bleeding from the buckshot stops. Of the horses pulling the cart, one breaks away. Avira doesn't notice that this one bares the hunter himself from the battle until it's too late. By then, Clayton has already fled. Speaking of that...the horses wheel around before driving through the camp with the wagon in tow and Avira guiding. Sydney grins unsettingly at the scarred woman and Avira stares back. "You..! Uh...yeah...sure...pleasure and all that stuff. Um. Gotta go! Bye!" There is a second of pause before the horses speed off again, cresting the nearby hill.

:'''[[Sydney Losstarot]] has posed:''' Sydney laughs, shaking his head. "If you see fit to humour me, I'll give you the opportunity." He says, following after artemis.

Clayton

2013-03-19T02:45:31Z

Joe:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=John
|lastname=Clayton
|age=47
|image=JohnClayton.jpg
|caption=Thinkin' About Poaching
|species=Human
|sex=Male
|height=6'1"
|weight=180 lb.
|series=Tarzan
|styles=Adventurer
|hometown=London, England
|alignment=Forces of Ruin
|group=Unaffiliated
|occupation=Hunter
|quote="Blasted gorillas! I'll hunt down every last one of them!"
|footer=Tried to take in a bounty.
}}

==History==
John Clayton was born to an upper class family about the start of the mid 1800’s on Earth (this is an estimate based on Tarzan’s setting of 1882 and the fact Clayton still has brown hair that’s beginning to gray). The kind of family that could afford the luxury of leisure time. Clayton learned to hunt from his father, the family tradition, early on, and took an immediate liking to it. Perhaps he liked it TOO much, as his mother worried privately. He would eventually gain a classical education and a business degree, even if he didn’t actually have to work a day in his life. Instead, he decided to focus more on adventuring and hunting rather than stay in the confines of an office.

He joined the military and fought in a few minor wars, putting down rebellions in India and African colonies. After his service ended he hired himself as a mercenary ‘guide’ to escort less experienced hunters, dignitaries and academics through the world’s harshest environments. More and more his obsession with hunting grew to disquieting heights. He remained respected in the gaming community but some occasionally whispered about a peculiar look in Clayton’s eye.

With experience comes a network of contacts, and Clayton began to get involved in the black market – selling body parts of the animals he killed for a hefty sum. The Chinese in particular were excellent business partners, and he found a comfortable side-income in this. Eventually, he came in contact with one Professor Porter and his daughter Jane, who wanted to study gorillas in Africa…

Now the worlds are suddenly becoming infested with Heartless, and more opportunities for work, particularly as a mercenary for the mysterious Shadow Lords. Clayton will soon find himself in direct contact with the darkness, and it may change him forever.

==Personality==
Clayton often comes off as a rugged British gentleman - handsome and charming yet with a thirst for adventure and a hardness from years of combat and exploration. He is a brave man who will face anything no matter how dangerous, striking a strong and manly figure, a role model for lesser men to aspire to, even covet. Quick with a smile or a witticism, always with pipe and good tea on hand, he certainly seems to have been gifted with the human ideal.

But behind this lurks the heart of a violent man. He ruthlessly hunts animals to the ends of the earth, killing all manner of creatures. It doesn't matter if they're rare or common, violent or peaceful, social or loners, he will shoot them all down and skin them for parts to sell off or keep as trophies. He is completely callous in dealing with them and feels it is man's very right to exert his dominance over all lesser creatures. Increasingly this viewpoint is starting to expand to sentient non-humans as well. He is very staunch in his defense of 'civilization' and rails against the savage hordes that see what they cannot have and conspire to bring down.

==Abilities==
'''Marksmanship''': Clayton is trained to wield several types of guns such as pistols, rifles and shotguns, and is a crack shot with all of them. His favored weapon is a double-barreled 12 gauge hunting shotgun which he has learned to reload at maximum speed. He can easily hit a quarter when thrown into the air, or pick off a flying hawk soaring a mile away, or even shoot a charging lion dead with two well-placed slugs before he can even feel its breath.

'''Outdoorsman''': He is also trained to survive in the wild if necessary, though he prefers to hunt and adventure with plenty of supplies on hand. He can quickly learn the layout of the land no matter how alien the terrain, as well as track many types of animals depending on what they leave behind. He tends to play up his skills in this area, however, to impress the people who are paying him in hopes of better compensation, but he is well above the common man when it comes to facing down nature.

==Allies and Enemies==
===Allies===
===Enemies===

==Trivia==
-Voiced by Brian Blessed. Yes, he has the best villain voice actor. No, this is not negotiable.

= Logs =
{{Character Logs}}
= Cutscenes =
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}

Clayton

2013-03-19T02:43:46Z

Joe:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=John
|lastname=Clayton
|age=47
|image=JohnClayton.jpg
|caption=Thinkin' About Poaching
|species=Human
|sex=Male
|height=6'1"
|weight=180 lb.
|series=Tarzan
|styles=Adventurer
|hometown=London, England
|alignment=Forces of Ruin
|group=Unaffiliated
|occupation=Hunter
|quote="Blasted gorillas! I'll hunt down every last one of them!"
|footer=Shot a monkey man.
}}

==History==
John Clayton was born to an upper class family about the start of the mid 1800’s on Earth (this is an estimate based on Tarzan’s setting of 1882 and the fact Clayton still has brown hair that’s beginning to gray). The kind of family that could afford the luxury of leisure time. Clayton learned to hunt from his father, the family tradition, early on, and took an immediate liking to it. Perhaps he liked it TOO much, as his mother worried privately. He would eventually gain a classical education and a business degree, even if he didn’t actually have to work a day in his life. Instead, he decided to focus more on adventuring and hunting rather than stay in the confines of an office.

He joined the military and fought in a few minor wars, putting down rebellions in India and African colonies. After his service ended he hired himself as a mercenary ‘guide’ to escort less experienced hunters, dignitaries and academics through the world’s harshest environments. More and more his obsession with hunting grew to disquieting heights. He remained respected in the gaming community but some occasionally whispered about a peculiar look in Clayton’s eye.

With experience comes a network of contacts, and Clayton began to get involved in the black market – selling body parts of the animals he killed for a hefty sum. The Chinese in particular were excellent business partners, and he found a comfortable side-income in this. Eventually, he came in contact with one Professor Porter and his daughter Jane, who wanted to study gorillas in Africa…

Now the worlds are suddenly becoming infested with Heartless, and more opportunities for work, particularly as a mercenary for the mysterious Shadow Lords. Clayton will soon find himself in direct contact with the darkness, and it may change him forever.

==Personality==
Clayton often comes off as a rugged British gentleman - handsome and charming yet with a thirst for adventure and a hardness from years of combat and exploration. He is a brave man who will face anything no matter how dangerous, striking a strong and manly figure, a role model for lesser men to aspire to, even covet. Quick with a smile or a witticism, always with pipe and good tea on hand, he certainly seems to have been gifted with the human ideal.

But behind this lurks the heart of a violent man. He ruthlessly hunts animals to the ends of the earth, killing all manner of creatures. It doesn't matter if they're rare or common, violent or peaceful, social or loners, he will shoot them all down and skin them for parts to sell off or keep as trophies. He is completely callous in dealing with them and feels it is man's very right to exert his dominance over all lesser creatures. Increasingly this viewpoint is starting to expand to sentient non-humans as well. He is very staunch in his defense of 'civilization' and rails against the savage hordes that see what they cannot have and conspire to bring down.

==Abilities==
'''Marksmanship''': Clayton is trained to wield several types of guns such as pistols, rifles and shotguns, and is a crack shot with all of them. His favored weapon is a double-barreled 12 gauge hunting shotgun which he has learned to reload at maximum speed. He can easily hit a quarter when thrown into the air, or pick off a flying hawk soaring a mile away, or even shoot a charging lion dead with two well-placed slugs before he can even feel its breath.

'''Outdoorsman''': He is also trained to survive in the wild if necessary, though he prefers to hunt and adventure with plenty of supplies on hand. He can quickly learn the layout of the land no matter how alien the terrain, as well as track many types of animals depending on what they leave behind. He tends to play up his skills in this area, however, to impress the people who are paying him in hopes of better compensation, but he is well above the common man when it comes to facing down nature.

==Allies and Enemies==
===Allies===
===Enemies===

==Trivia==
-Voiced by Brian Blessed. Yes, he has the best villain voice actor. No, this is not negotiable.

= Logs =
{{Character Logs}}
= Cutscenes =
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}

Inn At The End of the World

2013-02-28T06:53:59Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/02/12 |Location=Narshe - Inn |Synopsis=A blizzard hits Narshe, bringing in a few off-world travellers. |Cast of Characters=Tifa Lockhart, Katy..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/02/12
|Location=Narshe - Inn
|Synopsis=A blizzard hits Narshe, bringing in a few off-world travellers.
|Cast of Characters=Tifa Lockhart, Katyna, Grant Majors, Clayton
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Narshe is a cold place year round, but during blizzard season? Not for the faint of heart. Of course, that doesn't stop adventurers from dropping by, either passing through, looking for work, or hoping to catch a sight of a Moogle or the mythical Yeti. Whatever the case, the town gets just enough traffic to profit from it, but not enough to warrant any fame. Right now, a blizzard has hit this part of the World, and the Inn is more populated than usual...including more than one interdimensional traveller. Such as John Clayton, hunter, explorer, mercenary. He sits in a chair by the fireplace, a fur overcoat draped on the back with his fur boots, gloves and hat drying by the flames. They're made from monsters he just recently hunted while on expedition at the Veldt. He came here to inquire about the creatures lurking within the mountains. He was told he might as well join a lottery, but this hasn't deterred him from hanging around. His face partially in shadow, he is eating dinner, meat and bread with a side of water. No brandy tonight.

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart found herself lost. Not Reize-Lost, just wrong place. First it was just wandering around, she's been on the continent before. But then a wrong turn, she found herself near a huge mountain. Well, that seems like the wrong direction. But then then the road got closed up behind her when she wanted to head back down, due to the announcement of a snowstorm. She was directed to the closest inn in Narshe, but that was a bit away... So Clayton's yeti appears through the door to the inn! No actually, its Tifa that got overly snowed on while wearing a fur coat to protect herself from the blizzard. She looks like she's about twice as wide as usual when she steps in, shrugging the snow off her, with a rather deadpan look on her face -.-

:'''[[Katyna]] has posed:''' Katyna had travelled far from home, determined to find answers to her many questions. The sudden appearance of the mysterious woman at the church, the cursed glove..And the dreams. They all had her searching for someone who would connect her to her past, a past which she was a little afraid to find out about. However, if she didn't those dreams would never stop. Her travels eventually brought her here, to Narshe. It's a cold, unrelenting place that does not suit the fire-loving mystic knight one bit..And with the sudden freak snowstorm, Kat finds herself totally boxed in in this crummy little crowded inn.. "Ooh, this sucks big time! Why'd that darned storm have to hit now?" She grumbles as she staggers in, covered in snow which she tries her hardest to shed on the front mat. Fortunately she managed to..'Obtain' a thick red wool coat, hat and scarf to bundle up in. She really doesn't like this weather or the constricting attire however..

:'''[[Grant Majors]] has posed:''' The cold really doesn't bother Grant Majors. Ignore that the man is, for all intents and purposes, utterly unprotected; ignore that he is trudging his way through snow in sandals and bare legs and an armored skirt and cloak; ignore that that skirt, cloak, and sandals are his only clothing, besides some strange bandages wrapped around his hands and legs. What is really unnerving, really weird, about watching Grant Majors walk, is that the cloak seems to be twitching with a life of its own. Grant has healed extremely well since his fight in the coliseum, which is pretty surprising given it only took place yesterday and he has zero access to white magic. His wounds are still visible, but they're starting to fade; the scars may persist for a long time, but that was alright. He was an old soldier, a former Templar; scars were nothing. Grant makes his way through the driving snow. Though the cold was nothing to him, the dropping visibility was going to get dangerous, fast. He didn't want to be outside, alone, with dropping visibility; even if he could light the area up, it left him easy prey for anyone who might be a specialist at dealing with the snow. The presence of an inn is therefore a welcome sight. Grant makes his way through the snow, steadily, uncompromisingly trudging towards it without pause. When he reaches the inn, he opens the door and steps inside; his cloak pushes the door closed behind him. ...no, that was probably a trick of the light. He probably used his foot or nudged it with his back. "...poor winter," observes the shirtless man.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Clayton looks up as the woman wrapped heavily in fur walks in. He smirks slightly, as the sight does remind him of that which he seeks here in this godforsaken village. "Getting a bit nippy out, isn't it?" he says with a joking smile towards Tifa, and by proxy, Grant and Katyn. He finishes his food and hands the plate back to the serving girl. "I think I'd like a little of your house brew, to warm the bones," he says. His voice is smooth and baritone. He watches the shirtless Grant with a raised eyebrow. Well, you have to be made of some hardy stuff to survive out there like that.

:'''[[Katyna]] has posed:''' "Nippy!?" She makes a face, "You dont say! It's CRAZY out there! I feel like I'm in the northpole! What the heck kinda place is this?" She shivers still, but her eyes widen at the promising sight of a warm and cozy looking fire place. "Ooh, ooh! Fire!" And she darts towards the welcoming flames, eager to grab a seat before the mob of chilly people behind her can get there first. Finally, when she's plopped down on a comfy arm chair, does she shed all her heavy clothing, revealing the awkward teen underneath. "Phew, thought I'd never get out of all that stuff!!" She peers towards the door, spotting Tifa whome she grins and waves at. "Heey! You! Uh..." Darn, she's forgotten her name. Ooh, and there's a guy. Without a shirt or boots! "what the heck? Aren't you cold at all? I'm surprised you still have toes!"

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart slides out of the fur coat with a sigh. A warm one, she's happy to be out of the snow right now. She shakes the snow off the coat, before putting it to hang somewhere to dry out. Its not her coat, she needs to give it back later, she's grateful for the person that lent it to her. Her clothes are not made for winter, clearly. She lifts an eyebrow at Clayton's remark "Its a blizzard, one of the biggest seen around here in years apparently. They closed up the roads, pretty much stuck here." She waves to Katyna, and blinks as Grant just walks in without any clothes whatsoever "..." Well, nothing seems normal about THIS guy, she's not that surprised after the hades cup fight.

:'''[[Grant Majors]] has posed:''' Grant literally doesn't look the least bit cold. There's no sign of frost on his body at all; it's hanging off his cloak, but not the man himself. He shakes his head idly in Katyna's direction, since, well, the question sort of answered itself. He moves inside properly, standing away from the door but also clearly trying not to take up the fire in case people who actually need to keep warm need to...well...keep warm. "Miss..." Grant replies at Tifa, pausing for a moment to reach through his memory. "Lockhart." "Not an appropriate place for a challenge, unfortunately." He looks around the room, taking note of Clayton and glancing over Katyna again as he does so, his unnaturally blue eyes doing a rundown of the area. "Poor timing for a blizzard, too. Visibility's already dropped. No point in travelling like this."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Besides the fur clothing, Clayton's double-barreled shotgun is clearly visible leaning against his chair. "Well, plenty of room by the fire. It sounds like I'll be staying for longer than expected," Clayton says. "A shame, that. I was hoping to get an early start on my hunting."

:'''[[Katyna]] has posed:''' "Thanks!" Kat beams at Clayton. "Hehe, for saving these spots for us! where are y'all headed? I was lookin' for someone before I got caught in this blizzard. I hear there are real Yetis in the mountains though. Can you believe that? Ooh, I'll bet a Yeti fur would make an awesome coat..." Then The shirtless guy continues to not show any desire to keep warm, and she continues to stare at him. "How...Is that possible? Arent you even the least bit cold? I dont get it!" Darnit, she's gonna figure out this mystery one way or the other!

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart nods a greeting to Grant as she moves toward a seat "Hey, rather not destroy a house no, even if I'm sure you're itching for a one on one. Your fighting style doesn't exactly work in small places." She smirks, and sits down, sighing "Well, guess I'll need to get a room here, might as well relax." She wonders how good the bar is here. Call it competitive spirit.

:'''[[Grant Majors]] has posed:''' "No," Grant replies idly. He shrugs calmly, looking back over at the fire. "Is that a problem? Would you prefer if I was?" He glances over at the shotgun thoughtfully. A hunter. Okay, that makes sense. Explains what HE was doing all the way out here; he was looking for something to kill. Grant didn't really get into hunting that much, but, well, different strokes. He nods offhandedly at Tifa. "No. It isn't." His spear would probably take the roof off this place by accident. He had no desire to hurt anybody in here anyway; he wasn't that guy. He'd just been stuck on the wrong team. "You did fight well, though. I'm eager to face you alone."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' "Precisely why I am here, miss," Clayton says, now pulling out a wooden pipe and putting tobacco into it. "To hunt the Yeti that's the talk of this land. Should be exciting game, that. Spelunking the caverns here, braving the cold, looking for any trace of your prey before the winds blow it away...now that is fine living." He is brought his beverage, a golden wheat colored liquor, imported from the south. Clayton lets it rest beside his chair as he lights the pipe. "Though I miss the Veldt already. I have a behemoth head that needs to be mounted."

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart hrms, frowning a bit "I wouldn't think that a behemoth would make a good trophy though, too big, unless you have a huge house I guess." She thinks in terms of usefulness, more than in terms of trophies herself. Why would she want to subject people to the head of a dead monster in her bar anyway.

:'''[[Katyna]] has posed:''' Katyna chuckles at Grant, "Nah, just curious how you manage not to get cold. Care to enlighten us?" She arches a brow at Tifa and Grant, "Ooh were you guys facing off in the Hades cup then?" She scratches her head, peering at clayton. "Heh, hunting a yeti, are you? and what will you do if you find it? Eat it?" She cant argue, she misses the desert and heat herself. "Hmm, so I wonder how long this storm's supposed to hold out for?"

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart nods at Katyna "Yeah, but I think Grant was unlucky and got teamed up with the bad guys. I mean, seriously, Negaduck?" She doesn't hold hatred for lots of people, but that duck humilated her before. Not to hold a grudge, that duck is nothing but trouble. "Grant waited until his teammates were down to take us on.

:'''[[Grant Majors]] has posed:''' "Behemoth bone, or a tusk, or a claw. Good tropy, probably a good weapon." Grant didn't think in terms of trophies, but he did know how to improvise pretty well. He shrugs offhandedly at Katyna. "We did. She fought very well. I've seen her fight twice now, and I'm anxious to fight her for real. She's a very impressive woman." He doesn't comment on the whole hunting yeti thing. That actually sounded like it could be pretty interesting; Grant didn't much care for hunts (killing wild animals wasn't really his deal), but he did like worthy fights, to test his strength. Besides, slaying monsters was a hero's duty; it was just something you had to do, were supposed to do, to make the population feel safer and be safer at night. "Sounds like fun," Grant observes at Clayton finally, moving a bit closer to the group. His eyes stray back over to Katyna. "I'm tough."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' "Don't concern yourself about it, it's more of a...male thing," Clayton says to Tifa, smoothly, though his eyes seem mocking for a moment. He flits back to Katyna. "Either stuff it and sell it, or sell the meat and fur. Yeti pelts are fetching top dollar right now...or whatever equivalent currency you prefer."

:'''[[Katyna]] has posed:''' Katyna smirks at Gran'ts comment about being tough, "Heh, oh yeah? Still that must've taken a lot of serious training.." She sighs, "I wish I was impervious to the cold like that." She smirks at Tifa then, "Ooh, so who won in the end?" she arches a brow at the mention of Negaduck. Ahh, the unsavory shadow lord. She'll have to meet him some day. "Hmm, I just wanna see if the stories are true." The girl grins impishly "And if he's as tough as they say, maybe I'll test my skills against it." As for Tifa's fighting prowess, Kat just nods and smiles, "Yeah, I've seen her in action. She's one tough lady. Dunno how I could fight without my sword.."

:'''[[Tifa Lockhart]] has posed:''' Tifa Lockhart smiles to Katyna "Well, we won. But it twas tough, Grant gave us a scare, he was almost unscratched and we were all hurting pretty badly from the other two. Evja did a great job protecting us, and Quistis offered magical cannon from the back."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Clayton leans back in his chair, smoking the pipe and blowing a light haze of smoke in front of him. The flickering, crackling embers of the fireplace seems to make his whole body shimmer. He is of slender build even with his usual attire on, but his muscles seem hard and firm, with a tan from days spent in the sunlight. Not to mention a strong chin. He sits listening to the conversation between the two women while also enjoying his beverage, of which it is steadily draining. "So where do you all hail from?" he finally asks in a relaxed tone.

Elf Hunting

2013-02-28T06:51:36Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/02/26 |Location=Traverse Town - Cloud Nine |Synopsis=Clayton and his hired thugs come to collect on Morrighan's bounty. Gunfire ensues, surpri..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/02/26
|Location=Traverse Town - Cloud Nine
|Synopsis=Clayton and his hired thugs come to collect on Morrighan's bounty. Gunfire ensues, surprising secrets are revealed.
|Cast of Characters=Deidra, Will Sherman, Mercade Alexander, Avira, Morrighan Alazne, Maximilien, Percival, Clayton, Soan Sagittarius
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' John Clayton has made something of a name for himself after the Fluorgis fight, the largest job he's ever taken since doing mercenary work between the worlds. He was rewarded a sizable sum for his efforts, especially since more than a few other hunters lost their lives fighting Kurt Zisa. He finally had enough to purchase a manor - or perhaps comission his own jungle fortress in his own world's section of Africa the Porters and their assistants are stuck in. That would be suitably fitting. But a good adventurer never rests. There is a bounty posted on Morrighan Alazne for her various crimes. Clayton does not know WHO posted it, not even making his own inquiries turned up anything. But the reward was sizable, and the crimes were just enough that he felt completely fine with pursuing a human quarry. For he is no stranger to delivering men to justice - it was a common task in the chaos of the colonies. It wasn't easily keeping a land civilized. Plus, who goes around summoning supernatural horrors? Clayton approaches the Cloud Nine building with an entourage of hired goons he promised to split some of the reward with if he was successful. He knew the elf was being held here, but this was also home to several unique individuals, who would likely not give her up easily. For Clayton, the men were merely there to provide backup in case his negotiations fail. Many are wielding guns, which he figured would suitably intimidate. He signals for the men to stop, raising his hand calmly. "ALRIGHT!" he yells at the Cloud Nine. His voice is enormous and booming when he wants it to be. "I THINK YOU HAVE SEEN US COMING BY NOW, AND YOU LIKELY HAVE AN INKLING OF WHY THERE ARE SEVERAL TOUGHS OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR! BRING US THE ELF GIRL AND WE WILL BE ON OUR WAY! I REPEAT, BRING US THE GIRL, AND NOTHING WILL HAPPEN!" He waits. The men keep their various armaments loaded, some eager just to storm the place and shoot it up. But they respect Clayton too much to dare it.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' Even fron the third floor, Morrighan could hear that loud proclamation slash demand from the hunter whose identity she had no clue. Having been laying in her bed, sleeping due to boredom, her eyes shoot open. "What manner of foolishness...?" She huffs indignantly, sitting up fron the bed and standing. She had managed to get her dress cleaned in the time they had allowed her to take a bath finally. Thus, those horribly unflattering clothes were worn only briefly, and now she was back in her usual dress. Carefully, the elven mage crept towards the only window in the room, peeking out of a corner to see just who or what was outside. The sight of a sizable number of men stationed outside with guns almost caused her to pale. "B-Bounty Hunters...? This must be some kind of joke!" Morrighan spoke in a hushed tone to herself, quickly stepping away from the window and sitting down onto the bed again. "Someone was actually foolish enough to take it up?" Well now what was she suppoed to do? The answer? Nothing. Nothing but hope those idiots could drive those men off. Right about now was the time where she was horribly hating the fact that she was stuck in this one room. Alone.

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' Mercade was at the bar. Mercade is drinking a soda and eating a chicken club sandwich with a side of steak fries. Clayton's booming voice almost makes him knock the things over. He sighs. "Well, that was only a matter of time." Mercade says. At first, he considers seriously negotiating with the guy. But then he realizes that he's bounty-hunting Morrighan. So he goes with the troll plan. "Will. You're up." He says over his shoulder while he mutters into his phone. He stands, walking to the doorway and leaning against it with his arms folded while letting the Hobo King deal with this. He cuts a suave figure with his detective's trenchcoat and his mussy demeanor. He doesn't look that concerned with the crowd of roughs outside the doorway. He'd say something, but he just lets his presence speak for itself. Not that it's going to make a difference, it's not like he's some metric ton of badass like Avira or an infamous phantom thief. Nope. Just some guy.

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' "You wear your pride like armor, madamoiselle, but it is not hard to see through you. You are not surprised; you knew this would come, as did we all. It was too much money to ignore." Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne pushes the door shut, as if he had been standing there the whole time, his arms crossed, his cane tucked under his arm. He frowns, moving to advance on Morrighan as the door shuts itself; the Frenchman stops in front of her, looking down at her for a moment, as if he can see through her just perfectly. He pauses there for a moment. Then he holds out a hand. "Come. You do not need to fear. I will take you out the back; we will run, and hide, while the detectives hold him off, oui? I am not much good in a fight, being that I am a pacifist, but when it comes to making escapes, there are few in these worlds better than I." He offers her a handsome, dashing smile as he holds his hand there in front of her. "They are already deploying the best agent we have access to when it comes to drawing ire."

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will was sitting down with a plate infront of him. The plate had a delicious DEATHWICH. The DEATHWICH is a double bacon cheeseburger, topped with onion rings and bbq sause, sandwhiched inbetween TWO grilled cheese sandwiches. He takes a bite of this cholesteral dripping burger, and then there was a shout. The shouting, wanting the Elf they had given to them. Will for a moment, sighs, and gives no <GOOSEHONK>s. The elf did them no favors, she helped destroy their world, she tried to throw the world into chaos. Will simply does nothing at first, taking another bite and enjoying the sandwhich. He pauses, though...something Mercade said, something about why was he forgiving Riku, but damning Morrighan. He pauses...seriously thinking about this for a moment. A long, long moment, why was he? He bites down on the artery killer again, it was...hard to deal with this choise. The desire to push down on the negitive emotion...to take the path of least resistance bubbles to the surface. He takes a breath, "No it isn't fair is it?" he says at random, and looks to Mercade. "..." he considers, and then, "Alright. You win Mercade...god." he says, and walks to the door, pushing the bar door open...and to meet the henchmen. "Hi, I am Will Sherman." he says, noting Clayton, "Oh hey, you're the guy from the beach. Guess it takes all types huh?" he says, walking slowly towards them. He was a sixteen year old kid, no more dangerous than anyone else right? He walks slowly, hands up in the air as he gets closer. "Now how about we talk about this like gentlemen." he says, getting closer...and closer... And then he sticks his fingers into the two nearest barrels. "Now, you have to ask yourself. You are a group of heavily armed thugs...and I am but a young adult who has stuck his fingers into your guns. How...lucky do you feel right now? If I were you, I'd put your weapons away, and talk to our boss about rethinking this..." "But I can see it in your eyes, greedy as you are you will try and shoot me. Well, go on, I'm waiting."

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' Hearing the door open, or rather, hearing the door close, because wow, when did he even get here? Morrighan looked over at the advancing figure of Max, frowning at his words. "H-Hmph...! Do not presume to think you know me now!" She responded tersely, crossing her arms in a huff and looking away angrily. This display lasted for all of two seconds before the dark elf relented and removed one of her arms, taking his hand gently. "...Are you letting me go, or am I just going to be held somewhere else now?" She asked, giving the phantom thief a sidelong glance suspiciously.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Avira is also at the bar, though unlike Mercade, she doesn't have anything to eat right now. Just a tumbler with some kind of amber-colored liquid in it. The liquid isn't fizzy at all so it's unlikely to be soda. The sudden shouting makes Avira's spine stiffen (her real spine), but she isn't startled to the point of knocking her drink over. "Damn, I figured this would happen eventually." she murmurs and turns around on her stool. She doesn't rise, leaning against the bar with her back, propping her elbows against it. "Well then." She lets Will handle this one, in spite of her alleged badassery powers. Avira looks to the drink in her hand and grins. "It's a nine o' clock on a tuesday~ An irregular crowd shuffles in. o/~ They're obviously here to cash on that bounty~ And they'll die if they spill my gin." o/~

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra is generally on the roof even when she's dong things reallty such as this day? Then comes the bellow of a bounty hunter. Given normally she'd have no problem with honest work hunting down cirminals in this somewhat disorganized world? Given the suspicuans of who may have posted the bounty doesnt' sit well also this man's here at the door seeming to cause problems. She spreads her wing and drops down from the roof of the building she glydes in laning in a crouch as she lands. "Just what is the problem, sir?" The Gargyole tilts her head and rises up to her full height.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Clayton smiles thinly as Mercade walks out first. He is not familiar with Mercade or his rep, but even Clayton knows the look in a man's eyes can tell you enough. "Hello, sir," he greets cordially. "If you would just escort Miss Alazne to me, that will be all. I'll forget that you are harboring a savage monster in your midst, too." Then something unexpected happens: a teenager walks up and sticks his fingers in the barrels of the guns of two of the thugs. Clayton, and the men, blink several times. "You wot, mate?" one asks Will. "Best get yer fingers out me gun, 'fore I hook you in the gobber mate, swear on me mum's loife!" The other growls. The suave hunter just stares. "Ah...are you joking?" He looks to Mercade. "Does this one have a keeper somewhere? Am I missing something?" He laughs in disbelief at the situation. "Let us plug the kid, eh?" One man yells. Clayton swiftly sweeps his hand. "No! Don't make a move until I say so, you idiots!" He gritted his teeth. He motions to a few of the gunmen. "Sweep around back, I don't want anyone entering or leaving this building until the situation is resolved." The four men quickly move as he turns back to Mercade. "Now, what will it be, sir?" he asks.

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' Mercade foottapps to Avira's singing. "Are you seriously singing about this to the tune of the Piano Man?" Mercade asks over his shoulder, then looks back to Clayton, sighing as the standoff continues. "You have an interest in cashing in the bounty. We have an interest in it not being fulfilled, since it's been posted by a horrible person who plans to do terrible things to the woman." Mercade gestures. "So as you can see, we're at an impasse. She may have done wrong, but she doesn't deserve what that man will do to her. If you're going to insist on aggressing on our property, you're going to leave us no choice but to forcibly eject you from the premeses." "In other words..." Mercade smiles. "Get outta here, kid. Ya bother me." He says with an outrageous New York accent.

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' "I do not need to presume. You are not exactly hard to read, madamoiselle, and I am very good at reading people," Max replies cheerfully as he takes her hand. And then he moves to scoop her up into his arms in a bridal carry, that infuriatingly French smile plastered across his face. "You are afraid - you have been afraid since you arrived, hiding it beneath your bravado, as though your fear were some sort of demon you could slay. You knew this was not a joke, not madness; you reject the reality you find yourself in, because it suits your pride, and if you allowed your pride to be injured, it would expose the fragile little tortured girl from the village long ago. The little outcast girl who had no choice but to be proud, to hide her tears - because the tears were what they wanted, were they not?" His voice is calm as he moves for the door, carefully avoiding the window. "They wanted to pull the tears out of you because you were different, and making you cry would bring them happiness. They would feel like big heroes, defeating the evil dark elf. And they hurt you, over and over, and over." He moves through the door, still holding her in his arms, carefully closing it behind him with his cane. Then he dashes for the stairs - and as he dashes, his voice gets faster, keeping up with his steps. "But you grew strong. You hid the tears and pulled up your pride. You hid the fear and the anger and all the other things underneath your pride, pulled it above you like a safety blanket. They got tired of tormenting you when you did not cry; the world could not hurt you then, not while you had your invulnerable armor. You grew beautiful, and that only made your armor stronger. What, after all, could ever break the pride of so beautiful a woman?" Max kicks open the door to the roof, going straight up the stairs, covering three stairs a leap. The ride is smooth for Morrighan; if she's paying attention, she might notice float magic cast on them both. "And so you hid yourself away behind the mask of pride and vanity, and have never allowed yourself to smile, to trust, to be close to other people. You learned that the world was a terrible place, so you told yourself you would conquer it, and no one would ever hurt you again." The roof door opens before them as Max puts the brunt of his weight into it, and he smiles at her. "Did I more or less...hit the mark, ma belle?" He pauses for a moment, doing some brief calculations as he talks, still sounding calm, peaceful. He is where he loves to be - in the heat of the action, with a getaway to plan right on the spot. He lived for this, this adrenaline rush. "I told you that I would find, ma belle, something to make you smile, to draw out your true beauty." "I am going to help you go free, and you will be released. If you need any help, you have but to call."

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' "Maaaaaybe." Avira drawls in a mischevious manner. "We ARE in a bar, after all." She still hasn't gotten up out of her seat yet, actually trusting in Will's negotiation skills thus far. Though that doesn't seem to be deterring them to often, now Mercade is working on "politely" telling Clayton to, as they say in jolly old England "sod off." In fact, she even sets her drink on the counter and politely applaud's Mercade's rebuff, leaning forward as she does so. "Well done! I liked the 'forcibly eject from the premises' part the best." Smugly, she leans back against the bar again and watches the front door. One of her hands drops out of sight, concealing the fact that she actually has it resting upon the hilt of her weapon. Of course, this is a sword-like object and not a gun so its effectiveness in a shootout would be arguable. It still makes her feel better to have it there.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will smiles, it isn't malicious it is...easy going. "I am either crazy, stupid, or over confident. Which is it, I wonder?" Will says to the men, not moving his fingers. He keeps his gaze right on the several men as more run to the back. He looks back at Clayton, turning his attention away from the two thugs he has by the barrel of their own guns. Slowly, his eyes look over the man's string, and he frowns a bit. Slowly, he takes a breath, "You heard the boss, you're not welcome here. Now go before you do something silly like shoot your guns at me."

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra growls slightly as Mercade finishes up his words to teh man her eyes turn red. "I'm sorry but you'll be asked to leave, if need be we'll throw you off the grounds sir. I would suggest you be wise and walk away from this." She's clearly got talons out and ready she's making no hint to her magical abilities however as she shifts about tail moving with menace.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Wh-Whuh!?" Morrighan had no time at all to refite Max's words before she found herself scooped up into her arms like she was some sort of damsel in distress being carried away from the danger. She totally wasn't. Because that would be stupid. ...She wasn't, right? Well either way, a hint of red made it's way onto the elven woman's face as she was carried off. Partly embarrassment, and partly anger. Or perhaps the former was more prevalant than the latter. Who knew? But she was not going to listen to this infuriatingly /french/ man pick her mind apart. ...Or maybe she was. Because there was no /not/ hearing it now. Especially with her ears. "That is..." She started to say, averting her eyes as the phantom thief dashed through the hall. She couldn't say anything. Every last word he uttered was one hundred percent correct. And it made her angry! Who did this man think he was to just throw everything in her face in a manner such as this!? Growing more and more frustrated with each sentence finished, Morrighan opened her mouth, looking ready to yell at him and deny everything, but then he continued on. They were moving rather fast for herself being a burden of weight to carry. How was he doing this? She certainly was not the heaviest person in the world, but he was also not the strongest looking. So how? A cursory glance downwards revealed to hear vague hints of float magic. Aha, so that explained it. Nevertheless, that was not as much of an important detail compared to the words coming from Max's mouth then. "Stop it...Stop it! You talk about my life as if you were actually there! As if you were right there in that village at the very moment it was happening! How did you even manage to construe such things from the simple story I told you?" No, there would be no admitting it. Just anger and denial. Though that response in and of itself may as well have been an admittance. Alas. Coming out onto the roof, the healer looked away from her carrier and out at the expanse of Traverse Town. Why were they up here? Was going up to the roof not a disadvantage now? However, his talk of going free distracted Morrighan enough for her to look back at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" She asked rhetorically "What did you just say now?"

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' The people here make their decision. Clayton listens to them, and something in his expression...changes. His gentlemanly looks flash into something...else. Something decidedly less polite and negotiable. "Typically bloody Yanks, thickheaded and always smarting off. What the devil are you people thinking? Defending that criminal! She /summoned an undead demonic entity/! How can you justify such savage mysticism? Why, maybe she /deserves/ whatever the bounty poster is giving her!" He spits at Mercade's feet. "Are you familiar with the Anglo-Persian War? The Second Opium War? How about the Indian Rebellions, or the Abyssinian Expedition? I fought them all. I helped tame ALL those savages for their own good, and for the good of the British Empire. I have experienced all the hardships of war, but in the end, it was for a good cause. So what I'm /getting/ at, is that shedding some blood to bring in a devil summoning maniac /is nothing/ to me!" He hefts his shotgun and turns on the men. "They made their choice, men! Open fire, open fire RIGHT NOW!" With yells of battle the armed thugs begin shooting. Will Sherman and Mercade will be the first to get hit, if they are not quick enough. Evidently, they have no idea what Will is capable of, taking his threats as mere wind.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Odd things happen around Will. Such as the two guns pointed at him...suddenly firing...and jamming immediately. His finger doesn't explode, but it does smoke a little. Will winces, blowing at his now smoking index fingers. "Oooow!" he complains, and rubs them a bit. Of course, this will take the hunters some time to fix their jammed guns. Will, however, pushes his advantage and steps forward, his fists moving to try and smack both of the men, before he drops, aiming to try and sweep them from their standing position, before he flips back to his feet, aiming to try and jab both hands into their shoulders...his fingers not only working their physical bodies, but tearing and weakening their threads of fate, aiming to try and wither their chances of success. Will moves fluidly, not just a boy, but a boy who knows kung fu. "Oh wait, maybe I wasn't BEING overconfident. You might have fought in wars, but I've been alive for three hundred years. You're all just pups to me."

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' "Well, if that's going to be ho-OH GOD BULLETS!" Mercade yells as he dives back behind the doorjam, letting it take the bullets. Or rather, shatter as Clayton blasts it with his huge-ass gun. Mercade peers out of the hole in the wall, blinking. "Well, uh... YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR REPAIRS!" Mercade yells, as he goes on the defensive, falling back and kicking over some tables to help screen potshots into the building as he makes more cover.

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra says "It's a longer story it's more what that tree belongs to and who might want it." Deidra now pulls out her ipad spell book and boots it up to the book marks list quickly tabbing up a spell she needs and then comes the latin. Clayton might know the lanuage or at least know what's being spoken and it's something to do with ice from the sounds of it, soon the winds pick up and there's then an array of ice shards as she brings in her attack. Ice shard launch them selves at the great British Game Hunter. She lisens this man's lived a quite large amount of history but well bullets, and this is one hell of a mess with Morri. Why does eveyrthing end up prezelshaped when dealing with that elf?

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' "You do not need to hide behind your pride with me. I can see through you, ma belle; you told me everything I needed to know. Your anger is as good as an admission, the final confirmation." Max chuckles - quietly, because he doesn't want Clayton's undoubtedly keen senses picking up on them - and props her up a bit as he considers angles, trajectories, and other fun things. His cloak billows around him as he starts picking up a run; he doesn't answer her just yet. He's a bit deep in focus, drawing the Mists/mana/MP into himself as he considers the situation. Surely he's not so crazy as to... Jump. Max's feet press against the edge of the roof as he comes to a head in his run; he leaps, clutching Morrighan tight against his chest, to the next roof. He murmurs "hold tight" as they sail above the group - there was no choice but to do so, and to hope that Clayton would not in fact look up as he ran. He had the speed advantage, but Clayton had a lot of guns. He would have to trust in the TDA to draw Clayton's fire. They land on the opposing roof gently, delicately; Morrighan might at most get a bump. Max doesn't stop running, not even for a second - if Clayton did look up, he would take the shot, and that could legitimately put them both in danger. "I told you that you are free to go, once I get you to safety. I told you that if you have need of anything, you may simply call. You do not need your pride against me, madamoiselle; I have nothing I seek from you but your smile." "So, will you smile for me?"

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' "Did he just say 'tame those savages'?" Avira says, blinking owlishly at the ranting British man. "Savages...?" She seems short-circuited by the "British nationalisim" to say the least. One hushed question later and she's soon focusing again, Avira having gotten up out of her seat at last. It was pretty clear that these men weren't interested in being talked down. And frankly he did have a point concerning the questionability of defending the dark elf, who had summoned the lich. Avira's silent on the subject though. "You guys can't just come in here and wreck the place, especially after we've told you to leave." Then they open fire. Avira is fortunate enough to not be the primary target of the first volley and uses this advantage to take cover behind the bar. She still remembers that traumatic fight with Kaze. Fighting people with guns was not easy. All they had to do was get a good shot in and it was over. She does not draw her Spine. She will not be charging into the groups of men with shotguns swinging her weapon around like some big damn hero. Instead, she readies her ice magic, forming the arrows of ice along the length of her arm as she keeps her head down. Without warning, she pops up from behind the bar at random and unleashes the magic, which has a slight explosion on impact and releases creeping ice crystals for a few seconds afterards.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "N-Now hold on just a moment-whaaaaaaaa--!" Unlike Max, Morrighan had no reservations yelling in surprise at suddenly being clutched to her apparent liberator, and then the jump to the next roof, the landing was surpringly not that bumpy, but the fact that they even did it at all was enough to draw her surprise. Clayton would probably have seen them by now if he had looked up at the yell. "You seriously mean to tell me that you will not pursue any sort of repayment from me?" The elf asked, her voice growing a bit softer than it's usual hardened edge. "...How am I supposed to believe you?" She murmured, averting her eyes again. "No one performs acts of good will for free or for something ot little value..." She fell silent for a couple moments then before her crimson eyes were drawn back to the phantom thief. "...My smile is not something of value. Why do you seek it so persistently?" Looking away again, Morrighan quietly added one last statement. "Your life is being put at risk because of me and all you want is my smile? Preposterous..."

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' The two men whose guns Sherman plugged get smacked in the head pretty hard, dazing them enough to knock them off their feet with his sweep. His final jab to their shoulders knock them back as Sherman messes with their very fates. They groan as they roll on the ground. Deidra jumps into the fray and fires ice shards at the group. Clayton avoids the first few, but some of the gunmen get stabbed and yell in pain as blood drips from their wounds. One shard slices through Clayton's back as he rolls to a crouch. He doesn't seem to mind it much. Avira causes further havoc within the group as her ice arrows strike the chests, shoulders, and one neck of the group, some of them going down hard but not quite out of the fight yet. Clayton's eyes became predatory, as he takes note of Maximilien running with the girl on the rooftops. "THERE!" he screams. He aims his shotgun and fires a precise shot right at the gentleman thief, his shotgun echoing down the street with a loud BOOM. As for the thugs, some of them snap off some fast shots at the defenders, while a few sharpshooters start taking extra careful aim at everyone. These are the guys to watch out for.

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' Ah. Yes, Morrighan shouting would naturally draw Clayton's fire. That was unfortunate, but it's not like he could clamp her mouth shut while he was also carrying her and trying to make a complicated leap. The bullet grazes by his arm, cutting through his tuxedo; blood rolls down his tuxedo, and Max shakes his head as he crests the roof. "Forgive me the rough ride, madamoiselle; I am a gentleman, but I fear the man hunting us only pretends. Let us see if we cannot beat him to the train station." Now they were racing. Each jump would mean gunfire. Each moment would mean a risk. But that was fine; Max knew that. Max understood that. And yet, he just keeps that serene smile on his face, like he's in total control of the situation. "What, exactly, would I need from you? What do you have of value that I would know of or care for? You know so very little about me, ma belle, and that is just the way I like it. I want your smile. Your smile is your true beauty, the beauty you have buried under layers of anger and pride and deceptions to protect yourself. Your smile is the beauty that you have covered up from the world. How can you tell me that giving me this gift has no value? For me, seeing a woman's true beauty is one of the most precious things in the world." Max darts to the side, suddenly changing his course just before the jump. His agility is frightening; it's not just magical, either. There's real, hardcore, physical training in that movement - he's made himself excellent, for some purpose, pushed himself to the absolute limit of human ability...for something. "So smile for me, ma belle. Show me the real beauty that you have hidden, and I will help you no matter where you are, so long as your need is true. And besides." Max leaps across the next roof, stopping briefly to balance himself on a chimney and regain his sense of direction. "It is a gentleman's duty to help a lady in distress, non?" It is at this point that Morrighan would notice that he somehow slipped another flower in her hair.

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' "Oh damn, he did it." Mercade says. He saw Max, and he's shooting that huge-ass gun at his friend. THAT'S RIGHT MAX. YOU'RE HIS FRIEND AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. "All right!" He calls back to his friends in the bar. "LET'S GET THEM!" With that epic rallying cry, Mercade pulls his own gun, a pearl-handled revolver like you might see a magician use on stage. He spins it in his hand as he leaps from the doorway, throwing himself to one side as he shoots to keep the enemies diving for cover, ruining their aim!

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra knows shotguns are dangerous weapons after all they remained in use for a very long time with only altering them to be able to carry more ammo than one or two shots. Claytin is not to be underestiamted and she doesn't dodge she quickly casts a barrier that is able to take the force of the blast before it collapses from the force of the blast she mangest a spell casting but Clayton is uneffected by it. She starts casting again this time a larger chain of magical assaults more ice a heck lot more ice she's trying to freeze him in place from the looks of it.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' "Max!" he shouts out, seeing where the shot was lined at. Will moves, to the side, narrowly avoiding the gun aimed at him, and ducks under the next...moving blindly and letting fate move him to where he needs to be... His eyes narrow, as he flips over the two downed chumps and moves to grab Clayton's large weapon, his hand wrapping around the barrel, even as it slightly burns his hand from touching the recently fired gun. His hand moves to tear the thing away from Clayton, and then... Uses it as a club, to try and repeatedly smash the hunter across the face, moving viciously to try and smash him, taking little to no grace in doing so. He tears at strings, aiming to try and rend the fate from Clayton's body, Clayton can even, for a fraction of a second, see the string like things that were once apart of him...attempted to be torn out.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' "He did? He's..." Avira can only sort of hear Mercade muttering and shouting, between the guns going off and Mercade not exactly shouting every word himself! There's far more important things to worry about at the moment besides figuring out what Mercade's talking about. Such as 'getting shot', even through the bar. Nobody, fortunately, gets to see how bad it is until she pulls out from her hiding spot. Avira doesn't do so immediately, pushing a hand over wound on her back before crawling along the length of the bar so she doesn't get stuck being aimed at in the same place as seconds ago.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' This man. This man, this man, this man, this man, this man- "WHA--!?" Morrighan cried, cut off from her thoughts as gunfire grazed by Max, tearing into his tuxedo and drawing blood. A worried look crossed her face then. "Your arm..." She mumbled, raising a hand slightly, which began to glow with light. Channeling healing magics into his arm, Morrighan just frowned as she continued to listen to him. "So I know nothing about you, yet you think you know everything about me. How wonderful." She grumbled, shaking her head slightly in annoyance. Despite that however, a small smile began to edge it's way onto the dark elf's face. It was a full, genuine smile, but it seemed to be creeping it's way up to that. Wait a second. Something was off. She felt a weight in her hair. Reaching up with her off hand, she felt her hair and blinked a couple times in surprise. HOW? Actually no, nevermind. It was better to not ask. He wouldn't give her a straight answer anyhow. Not to mention that it was hardly the time to be asking about how the gentleman thief had even managed to pull off such a thing in the first place. "You are a fool. I hope you realize that." Morrighan said plainly and openly, her small smile growing a bit bigger as she said so.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' "He did? He's..." Avira can only sort of hear Mercade muttering and shouting, between the guns going off and Mercade not exactly shouting every word himself! There's far more important things to worry about at the moment besides figuring out what Mercade's talking about. Such as 'getting shot', even through the bar. Nobody, fortunately, gets to see how bad it is until she pulls out from her hiding spot. Avira doesn't do so immediately, pushing a hand over wound on her back before crawling along the length of the bar so she doesn't get stuck being aimed at in the same place as seconds ago.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Mercade gets all gunkata on the gunmen, but they move quick, ducking behind various objects of cover now to avoid the hail of bullets. They return fire on Mercade, blasting away while some reload. Luckily for the group, the thugs are armed with late 19th century/early 20th century guns rather than 21st ones or even lasers. So they are more prone to jamming and reload slower. Deidra fires at Clayton but he easily jumps away from the ice magic, which coats the ground in front of Cloud Nine with slick ice. "Monster," he growls, glancing up at her. But the distraction gives Will Sherman an edge as he rips the gun from Clayton's hands and smacks him in the face with it. A lot of blood flies from his mouth as he jerks to the side, then gets smacked in the jaw with a THWOCK so hard he levitates off the ground briefly. His hair is now a mess and he's got some bad knocks to the face, one eye already swelling and blood flowing down from his mouth. Will grabs at his strings of fate...and some of those things are very, very dark. It's like digging into cake and discovering a severed finger. Clayton stares at Will. Slowly, Clayton reaches to his hip and pulls something from a sheathe. It is a very large, very SHARP sabre. "Give. That. Back." He lunges at Will, trying to chop the hell out of him with the blade.

:'''[[Soan Sagittarius]] has posed:''' Sometimes, when you're in that kind of jobs, you have to learn to act on your heart, instinct, and take some risks. This is one of these moments. A thunder clap happens from above, into the skies. A loud voice, to be recognised as the actual thunder itself, booms donward as a flame flies downward with speed, arced over some distance away from Traverse Town. That voice, becoming closer and closer, is intoning a set of words, which are as follow: "FOR THE SKIES ABOVE THE SKYYYYYYYYYY!" Without very much warning, a tall man, coated in a wide, large full plate armor, dark blue and shaped like a humanoid dragon, wielding a burning spear, plummet downwards with a target in mind, the culmination of this stupidly impossible leap and the spear's other end: Clayton. Whenever he impacts the man or the ground produces no sounds for a second, until the sounds wave of his descent catches up, bringing the thunder clap along with the armored figure's fall.

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' It is like he stepped out of a storybook or something, the kind little girls read when they're wishing for a handsome prince to come save them from a life of mundanity and drudgery. Here he is, in all his finery, the red-haired French prince in his tuxedo and his cape, doing the impossible like it's the routine! Max laughs as she reaches up to heal him. She seals his arm, the blood flow dimming to nothing; it was already not much, but that's alright, he wasn't going to turn down healing. "You cannot mend my suit as well, can you? The blood will run terribly, and it will need restitching...but, alas." Max clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then she smiles - just a little bit - and his own widens into a grin. "Now.../that/ is a beautiful smile, ma belle." Max skirts to a halt as some of Clayton's goons come around, preparing their sharpshooting. He clucks his tongue again, looking moderately annoyed - and then Soan descends from the sky, and Max takes the opportunity to bolt to the right, going across to the next roof with a much easier jump. He lands, then wobbles for a moment, taking a second to remove his hand from Morrighan and cast another Float spell. Clayton would have another great chance, if he could get his gun back from Will - or his sharpshooters would. "I have been called far worse, I assure you. If I am a fool, then I would at least hope that I am a dashing, handsome fool, and not a fool like monsieur Sherman. The, ah, the smelly one with the hat?" Max hooks her back into his arms. "Hold tight and stay pressed to me. If I am hit, the train station is this way."

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Once the heat is off her and Avira has done all she's needed to treat her own wound, Avira finally hops out from behind the bar, crawling over top it. It's easy to see that Clayton and his goons have stuck to the outside approach so she quickly heads to the door. The back door. There was mention of a back enemy before, right? Once there, she doesn't attract all that much attention to herself at first-well, once she lets her magic fly, there's no helping. She's looking for the snipers and sharpshooters, picking off one goon at a time with expertly aimed ice magic.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will's eyes widen! Oh <GOOSEHONK> you know stuff is real when the gun weilding guy pulls out a SWORD. Well, okay, sabre, but still. Will swings the gun at the sabre, and manages to parry the weapon, aiming to block with everything he had. He had to try and either damage the weapon or keep it under his control as long as possible...he needs to buy Max time. His eyes narrow, as he manages to just narrowly, slide the weapon back away from him as he moves to hop around Clayton, before spinning, aiming to try and aim a kick for the side of the face of Clayton. He flips back, aiming to quickly draw the weapon down again, aiming to bash Clayton's head in, before landing, and then pointing the gun at him. "Oh hey, I know how to use a firearm, how about that!" BANG!

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "That is enough out of you." Morrighan grumbled, letting her smile melt away into a frown again. Such an expression on her face was truly alien to begin with. At least a genuine smile. Ergh, those were hard to do. "And I deeply regret to inform you that no, I cannot mend your clothes." She replied with a bit of sarcasm, looking back as some insane man in armor came dropping down from the sky. "This cannot be serious. More people have shown up now?" Apparently that was a rhetorical question as the elven woman glanced back at Max, frowning at his question. "Whether or not you are a dashing, handsome fool means nothing now. You are simply a fool." And no, she did not want to think about Will. Even if he /was/ currently defending her...in a way. Huh. How strange. Finding herself hooked back into the frenchman's arms, Morrighan relented and held herself closer. "Very well, but do not get hit regardless. It would be quite troublesome if you were. Not that I care about you in particular!"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra has taken a lot out of herself with that series of spells and she's now going to try to recover a bit as she casts some other spells upon Clyton and then she looks up ists a bird, no it's a plan it's? Wait who the heck is that it's not Super Man it's someone armored up like a Dragon she thinks dropping in on them and she starts to chant her spells again and trying to lay down a curse upon Clayton. Also what the heck is going on with this Super Dragoon?!

:'''[[Percival]] has posed:''' Begin Dramatic Entrance! Clack, clack, clack. Talons upon the stairwell as he gradually becomes visible to those upon the first floor of the establishment. Wait how'd he even get into the building in the first place during this mess? Ancient Gargoyle secret. All rumors to the contrary are just base slander. And of course the broadsword is drawn, and at a low guard, while the shield hangs casually at his side. "You disappoint me, Sirrah. To think that a gentleman such as yourself brought a saber to a gun fight." His wings furl in close to the chest, he's a big target, and he doesn't want to make himself any bigger to the gunmen. He closes the gap in short order, just after Will finishes SHOTGUNNING him with his own gun, hoping to give the Hobo King some backup against the big man with a sword. He doesn't exactly strike yet though. Rules of engagement and all that. He just kind of interposes himself.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' Clayton looks up as a very loud armored man soars from above to drop a spear through his face. However, Clayton can see this coming a mile away, and quickly hops to the side just as the spear slams into the ground and sends a shockwave across the street. Clayton looks alarmed, pointing at him with his sabre. "Just who the devil are YOU? Are you with this smelly rapscallion child?" he asks, turning back to Will...who promptly knocks him over. He grunts as his head hits the pavement. He blocks the smash to his head with his sabre, then rolls before he gets shot, the buckshot slamming into the concrete. He gets up, and sees Avira pick off a few more thugs with her ice bow. They scream as they go down, some firing their guns wildly. It's starting to break apart. Clayton suddenly flips over Will's head and rips the gun back into his own hands, sheathing the sabre. Then /the other gargoyle/ shows up, just as a curse grips him and the rest of the men. Clayton clutches his chest and kneels briefly. "You two? You loathsome creature. You're no Brit. You defend that elf, too?" He stands back up, eyes furious. "If you all are not willing to let individuals like THAT!" he points at the rooftops. "...recieve their just desserts, then the Heartless have already won! Civilization is at an end! Insane acts must be met with swift, violent action. Allow me...to demonstrate!" He grins, raising his shotgun and bellowing at the remaining men. The men form up as Clayton suddenly leaps up to the rooftops, in sight of Max. He grins as his shotgun suddenly EXPLODES with energy, aiming it at Max, Will, Percival and Soan as he fires EXPLOSIVE SHELLS at them, which enough explosive force to bowl anyone over. After this, the remaining men and Clayton unload everything they have on these four. Revolvers, shotguns, rifles, primitive machine guns and even a ladies pocket pistol. Don't ask where that came from. They don't pause to reload, or cover, or any of that.

:'''[[Soan Sagittarius]] has posed:''' DRAGOON MAN lands soundly on the ground, impacting the stone with cracks then leaping almost immediatedly backward, showing more agility than a man wearing that much metal should honestly have. He pull out his spear out of the crack it created, spinning it and giving the 'elf' and the others that were fighting the man. Huh. Strange winged creatures, theses. Yet, he senses no darkness into them... And yet, he feels some of it coming from that man with the woman. Why are the two darkness tainted fighting one another? First, one chaos spawn at a time, worry about the other next. "No, I am not." Intones Dragoon Man, still spinning his spear and aiming it at Clayton... who will be hearing none of it and is already unloading exploding buckshot his way. His men are noticed, the armored man looking upward as they appear, looking back down at Clayton just in time to be on the reciving end of explosions, bringing his spear in a defensive posture. Smoke and dust surrounds him, explosions impacting soundly against metal. "I do not know them! Yet, I do not need to, servant of Chaos!" Dragoon Man intones out, stepping through the cloud, his armor a little battered, but still in one piece mostly. "I can sense your taint! It /stinks/ from miles away! No, I do not know these people, but I do not need to know them to aid them in this fight, for I am... DRAGOON MAN!" The dragoon takes a deep breath in, the face mask suddenly unfolding as he breaths foward a burst of electrical flames, condensed at fire then spreading outward in Clayton's direction, as well as his men. "

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' Maximilien laughs again. "You would be surprised at how kind the world really is. Perhaps you should rejoin it - I think you would find yourself most welcome at the Twilight Detective Agency at this point." Avira probably feels a horrible chill run down her spine for some reason, like somebody just walked over her grave. Max tilts his head down at her. "That was hardly an answer, you know. I am aware that I am a fool. Being a fool is part of my life. There are certain situations that make me into a far bigger fool, and a beautiful woman in trouble is certainly one of them. Something about having a code of honor, I suppose...ah well, c'est la vie et la guerre, non?" Max moves to the left, going for the next closest roof towards the train station. He laughs. "I will do my best, ma belle." He offers her another daring grin; he looks untouchable as he leaps aross the chasm, his foot touching down on the end of the roof- And, with the reflexes of something close to a god, releases Morrighan, pushing her away from him just as the explosive shell smashes into his back. Max flies up, up, up, and then comes crashing down, down, down, landing on the roof. Hard. He coughs, blood spilling out of his mouth and onto the ground; his cloak is torn through, his jacket the same. He lays there, unmoving for a very, very long moment, wallowing in pain. Everything about his life is pain; moments become infinity, blood pours from his body. He is a thin man, a weak man; he is not built for taking a punch, let alone an explosive bullet. He just lays there, bleeding. Then he pushes himself up, his eyes a pure, terrible black. He throws out his hand, and lets out a roar. "I...MADE A PROMISE!" "I WILL NOT DIE BEFORE SYLVIE IS FREE!" "EVEN IF I MUST USE THE SHADOWS THEMSELVES TO SURVIVE!" The darkness parts in front of Clayton, and a Heartless rises from the ground, a dark little thing with a pair of blades and big yellow eyes, trailing shadows. It pauses for a moment, considering Clayton carefully, and then it punches him right in the face.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will shouts in surprise as the hunter snaps the gun back away from him! No! He was too late, he was gone in an instant. However, Will gets serious, as he leaps upwards after Clayton, running up the side of the wall and coming down. However, this was right into the barrel of Clayton's gun...it fires once, already taking his shot at Max! Will turns, "MAX!" he shouts, His eyes narrowing....he doesn't push down the feelings he feel. Pain, sorrow, a sense of failure...that he just let down a friend. No these are his to deal with...anger follows, as he turns towards Clayton who is already aiming another shot for his friends...then at him. Will's hand suddenly swings, and the bullets aimed at him are simply...punched away by his fist. There was a million to one shot that it could be done, but... Will just did it, his hands glowing with a dark red aura. Will's eyes are baleful, Clayton doesn't see just a little kid anymore, he see's...SOMETHING else. A being that is far older, far wiser than himself. This is something bigger on the food chain, and it was now pissed off. Will didn't like to use this power, not unless he had to...and hurting his friends was the best way to do this. The strings all around Will are laid bare to him, he can see them all...Clayton's and his own, he can see the dark things in his soul, and Will then dives right at him, aiming to try and knock him silly with the first strike...and then he aims both hands INTO Clayton... Will aims to grab the man's strings, aiming to repeatedly strike at the threads that tie him to the world, to litterally rend them, before he rips...his hands glowing with a dark power, before he brings the fist down in a simple motion...aiming to try and tear them assunder. The power not QUITE enough to completely remove Clayton, but if he hits...he will know how it feels to have his existance struck at. Will jumps back...wait...what...? He stares at the heartless, and then back at Max. He remembered seeing the shadows in his aura...the whispy strands of darkness...

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra has not been unloading to much heavy power she's been acting more to support her allies and keep the British bounty hunter off balance with her magic which seems to be working out for the most part and he's not directly targeting her so that's good and then Percy comes into join the battle she'll thank him later right now she's got to worry about Clayton clearly is a master of the shotgun and it's use in combat. "The Empire...." She's just cut the hell off by MAxi, who is Sylvie? Wait use the shadows to surive what is Max doing? She stares in abject horror as as not the darkness being used. She understasnds there are some who have ... tapped it to some degree but the fact A heartless has been summoned she stares in just utter abject horror nearly dropping her tablet unable to act for the moment.

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' "No! This isn't right! Look, we can-" Mercade yells, but it's too late. Clayton explodes Maximillian, and a strange, masked man with a spear appears as well as Percival. Mercade blinks at the chaos. This situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. "Dra... Dragoon Man?" Mercade stammers... And then he looks up, seeing the bullets hammer into Max, causing him grevious damage. "Max..." He says, his eyes widening. "MAX! DON'T!" He yells, reaching out. "IT'S GOING TO DESTROY YOU!" He seems unable to decide what to do at this point, looking between Clayton and Max helplessly.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Welcome? Here? Please, they all abhor my existence surely..." Morrighan replied rolling her eyes at the very idea presented. Seriously? Join the TDA? That was almost as inane as joining VALKYRI! ...Wait a second, she did sorta, kinda join, didn't she? Nevermind! No one has to know! "Hardly an answer, you say?" SHe repeated, smirking at him. "Well then, now you know how it feels to be given the runa-" But She didn't get to finish her rebuttal. Leaping across the rooftop, Morrighan was left completely unprepared when Max had pushed her away from him. Just in time as an explosive shell struck him clear in the back. "A-Ahhh!" She cried, falling back and shielding herself from the force of the explosion. Once the smoke cleared, the dark elf lowered her arms, staring at the phantom thief's fallen body. "...H-Hey now...This is hardly the time for you to be..." She spoke shakily, reaching for him from where she had tumbled hesitantly. And then he pushed himself back up and let out a chilling roar. The action caused Morrighan to scuttle back a bit, watching with confusion and a bit of fear as her would be liberator swung out a hand, summoning a...heartless? Wait a moment, why in the world was he summoning heartless? This made no sense! "W-What is the meaning of this!?" The healer demanded nervously, staring warily at Max. Without waiting for an answer however, she rose to her feet, light magic beginning to radiate from her form. It was true that he had told her to go on if he was hit, but...She was not going to do that just yet. Shaking her head, Morrighan began to channel healing magic to Max, trying to put his current state out of her mind while she worked. This has officially gone past weird and stepped right into the territory of plain scary.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Avira shudders suddenly. She's not sure why. Her ice magic has never made her feel this way before! The final goon goes down and Avira clenches a fist, drawing it down next to her. "Yessss." Satisfied, she starts to rush from the spot in the back ally to around the building to the front of the building where the rest of the TDA have been duking it out with Clayton. She knows it's happening over there because she can hear the yelling, from the hunter himself to Max. Max's screaming, in particular, she found some cause for concern since it sounded like he was in a terrible amount of pain. Not strictly gifted in the art of white magic, Avira still had some tricks in her favor. Rather than dogpile onto Clayton (their mysterious Dragoon Man seems to be handling this pretty well anyway!), she about-faces back into the alley so she can climb her way up one of the walls and onto the roof, aided by well-practiced parkour skills. But when she reaches Max, she actually balks at his appearance, recoiling a little. Her eyes dart to Morrighan, "Well don't just stand there gaping like a fish, heal him!!" And she does. "...okay good." (DID Morrighan join VALKYRI? Maybe. Avira considers it a temporary position given what happened shortly afterwards.)

:'''[[Percival]] has posed:''' Now Percival barely even knew who that 'Elf' was, but that didn't stop him from retorting. "This 'loathsome creature' would defend anyone from the madness you've wrought here! We have a word for tossers such as yourself. Blighters who claim to be civilized, but whose idea of civilization is merely a thin veneer which hides their base and savage nature. We call them Yanks!" Normally he would have said French, but with Max around, it had a tendency to get overused. As Clayton rains explosive shells upon him, Percival casually lifts his shield, and then swings it like a baseball bat. The shell inexplicably does not explode, and instead arcs up high into the air, over the rooftop. Clayton would hear a looney toons 'whistling' noise for a few seconds before the shell lands back at his feet. Perci wasn't sitting around to admire his handiwork though, instead he was already climbing, at ludicrously fast Gargoyle climbing speed to make his way up to the rooftop which Max was suffering upon. No he didn't have any healing magic, he just knew enough about combat medicine to try and help with stabilizing Max. If he noticed the Heartless or the darkness at all, he doesn't even stop to consider its connection with Max. Instead as he approaches Max, he's attempting to get a better look at the wound. Suspecting a sucking chest wound from the blood pouring out of his mouth, he'd be trying to put a hand against the wound to apply pressure while Morrighan and Avira work at healing him. Once the magic starts to knit away at Max's insides, he would rip up a good chunk of the stonework and throws it as hard as possible in Clayton's general direction.

:'''[[Clayton]] has posed:''' The first thing that happens in Clayton's perception is that the Frenchman reveals himself to be a user of the Heartless. "What..." Then it punches him in the face and busts his nose, causing him to stagger back and clutch his bleeding face. He can feel the Heartless looking at him. Not that again! "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FOOL?" he yells at Max. "WHAT ARE YOU?" Yet, he feels something weird. A strange sense of kinship with the man. Fleeting, but it was there. What the hell? Clayton is snapped out of it when Will reveals his own power. "Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you people?" he yells, eyes wide in terror as the kid lunges at him to rip the threads of his fate apart. The darkness in Clayton recedes completely...for now. He leaps away, getting considerable distance to avoid Will's attacks. He turns as Dragoon Man spews fire at him, and he rolls with a yelp, the flames setting a few barrels of trash alight. "The elf /summoned a lich to blight the earth/. At what point will this fact finally penetrate your thick, bloated SKULLS?" he yells in exasperation. "You could have prevented all this! Handed her over! All this could have been avoided, damn you all." He grits his teeth in anger. Just then, Percival deflects his explosive shell at Clayton which strikes his back, flinging him forwards. He lands with torn clothing, a burnt back and a fresh cut on his forehead. He groans, yet still rises. Clayton is made of sterner stuff. One of the remaining goons runs up. "We gotta get outta here, boss!" Clayton shoves him away. "Fine. You all can have her. I hope you enjoy your own company, you disgusting monsters. Beasts, all of you. I wash my hands of this." He sounds tired, the tone of a man defeated but still feels he is right, unaware of what is inside him. He lights a cigar and tosses it onto an overturned barrel of olive oil, setting a fire barrier between himself and the rest. Now the men are in full retreat, and so is Clayton.

:'''[[Maximilien]] has posed:''' Max knows the cost of this action. Max knows the cost of what he is doing. What he is performing. What he has done. He knows the cost to his heart; it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It is a cold, shooting pain that goes right through his soul, a supernatural ache. The soft, healing hands of Morrighan and the first aid of Avira are no warmth there; Max murmurs something, quietly. Then he pulls himself, wearily, to his feet, and crushes his hand tight into a fist. The Heartless looks up at Max curiously, then vanishes back into the Darkness from whence it came. "You are...I think...safe now, ma belle," Max observes calmly, his smile back on his face. "Merci. For the healing, I mean - thank you. You are a much kinder person than you give yourself credit for." Then he stumbles a little, leaning hard on his cane before he tumbles to the ground and hurts himself badly.

:'''[[Soan Sagittarius]] has posed:''' Clayton getting out of the way was noteworthy enough for the Dragoon. What, however, got most of his attention was that pretty boy summoning forth a strong wave of darkness. That man that he thought he will look at afterwards. He shields himself from the darkness, raising an arm to protect his eyes for some reasons, staring at the heartless being summoned. Clayton flees, but Dragoon Man's job is not over. "You!" The armored man says, approaching, slamming the butt of his spear into the ground, ignoring most of the other members of the TDA as of now. They looked fine, they looked alive. "Do you have any idea what you have done!? To yourself and this area?! The Taint of Chaos is not one to play causaully with!" He takes a deep breath, shaking his head as Maximillian falls into a wounded heap, turning to look at the others, giving the Gargoyles a brief, single pause. "I came here for what I had to do -- but keep that one in watch. The Darkness consumes what it touches, if it is not fought. Help him, for his sake and yours."

:'''[[Percival]] has posed:''' Let Clayton rant, and rot. The Gargoyle didn't care. His arguments may have actually been considered persuasive in another time, another place, under more civilized circumstances. But such things fall flat when one comes in medias res only to find him and his goons shooting up Cloud Nine. Perci's only concern was with Max. And it certainly wasn't to condemn him. If anything, he was the last person who should be judging anyone. So when Soan speaks his condemnation, he only lifts his chin to look at the man. "Thank you for your aid, Sir. But you need not worry about this one here. Whatever demons he might have lurking within....we take care of our own."

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "......." Silence was all Morrighan had to offer in the face of this aftermath. Here she was, essentially free to run off and do whatever she pleased. Clayton had given up the fight and fled. And she was not locked in that infernal room. But... Somehow, she managed to feel a bit guilty about all of this. Or at least this immediate situation. So rather than flit off to parts unknown, Morrighan crept over to Max's fallen form, kneeling down and continuing to heal his wounds. A single time wouldn't be enough. Avira is given a look in the meanwhile. "...Do not misunderstand. I am simply...returning the favor." Or so was her reasoning. Nevertheless, here she was. Still among them for now.

:'''[[Avira]] has posed:''' Heartless are serious business, such serious business that even their attacker starts shouting at Clayton for it. By now, Avira has actually withdrawn her blade, preparing for the possibility of fighting it or whatever Heartless Clayton would turn into if he doesn't flee it quickly enough. But again Clayton brings up that lich-summoning point and Avira falls silent, aside from the creaking of leather from her fingerless gloves as they tighten upon the hilt of her Spine. Clayton flees and she doesn't chase the hunter, her sights falling upon the remaining Heartless. Surprisingly, it vanishes shortly afterwards. The scarred woman turns to Max and regards him warily. He praises Morrighan for her help and her eyes narrow, darting over to the dark elf. "Well he took a shotgun for you so it's only fair." Avira says evenly, watching her. "Hey wait-" She turns away for a few moments and points to the mysterious DRAGOON MAN, "Who the heck ARE you?"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra is just kinda of numb there at what Max did the gargyoles wings slump her tail kind of drags at this point and she just looks a little lost as Soan speaks about Chaos for a moment. her Talons dig into the street a bit as she lets Clayton run the fithts' all gone out of her and the Luch summoning is a good point. She looks at Dragoon Man and her words echo Avira's. "Just who are you?"

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will moves forward, but the fire causes him to fall back...no it wasn't worth it. Okay, he steps back, "Yeah, you run. Tuck that tail between your legs." he says, and turns towards...Soan is already talking to Max like that...and then he pauses. Will walks, putting a hand on Soan's shoulder, "Nobody here is unaware of what the Heartless do...all of us here lost our homes to them." he says, calmly, and looks at Max. Morrighan is...showing concern and healing him, he can see the string forming, the bond weak, but with the right...help... "Anyway, lets go back inside, and get a drink and something to eat? My food is already cold."

:'''[[Mercade Alexander]] has posed:''' Clayton's words sting Mercade, as he reels from the flaming barrier. The Detective looks on as the Heartless vanishes, those words roiling in his mind and heart. "Max..." He says, whispering to himself, and he turns away. He's not going to interrogate DRAGOON MAN right now. He isn't in the right mindset to deal with it. He does, however, head to Avira. "Avira... Are you all right?" He asks. He looks over. "I think... we'll need to talk with Max. And we should probably... Let her go."

:'''[[Soan Sagittarius]] has posed:''' Dragoon Man's shakes his head, snapping his spear in twin halves of light, which then vanishes, turning to gaze at Avira and Deidra. He seems to be more looking at the Gargoyle than the human. Percival also get a glance. Clearly not monsters, despite their apperance, their demanor proves it. "My apology. I am Dragoon Man. I smelled the taint of Chaos, mine and my patrons' hated foe. Take care of your friend -- Death is not the end, when Chaos is involved. Do not let it spread to your souls." The armored man crouches, getting prepared for a jump, gathering energy, before declaring. "I'll be watching. Call for me if you need help against the hordes of Chaos." With a burst of air, stone and dust, DRAGOON MAN jumps upward, becoming an humanoid bullet into the distance.

Clayton

2013-02-28T06:47:54Z

Joe:

Clayton

2013-02-28T06:47:17Z

Joe:

The Hunter At Home

2013-02-28T06:37:06Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2013/02/28 |Location=Clayton's Manor |Synopsis=A comfy night at home. |Cast of Characters=Clayton }} Clayton stared into the flames blazing in..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2013/02/28
|Location=Clayton's Manor
|Synopsis=A comfy night at home.
|Cast of Characters=Clayton
}}
Clayton stared into the flames blazing in his marble fireplace, one of the many comforts in the manor he finally purchased from his recent exploits. The name 'John Clayton' was quickly becoming a name among adventurers, mercenaries and hunters, the name of a gentleman of bravery and guts, willing to face dangerous beasts and criminals alike. He eased back into the velvet armchair he managed to haggle a good price for, his feet propped on the ottoman matched with it. He wore a long robe made of fine rabbit hair, cradled a pipe of burnished mahogany and kept a bit of brandy on a side table nearest him. He reached up and touched the bandage on his forehead, each fresh flash of pain reminding him of what went down at the Cloud Nine.

Surrounding him were all sorts of mounted animal heads, stuffed bodies, collected odds and ends such as horns and feet, and numerous trinkets from his travels. This was the first room he fully furnished; other places still had crates of things left. He liked to surround himself with the bodies of his prey. He could look on each one and distinctly recall the when and where, remember the scents and the sounds, the moment where his heart beat the fastest...and most especially, the elation at killing his prey. That was probably his favorite part.

A chunk of Kurt Zisa stood on an iron stand on his mantle. The first trophy taken from fighting the Heartless. Clayton has been getting his fill of them lately. He could feel their stares scratching at his brain. He could not fathom why they took such an inkling in him. He called up a vision of that French thief unleashing his Heartless on him. That bloke is already dead, he thought. He won't control those creatures forever. He could rot in hell with the rest of the Cloud Nine residents. His grip on the pipe tightened. He was in the right, damn them. He offered to take her away peacefully, he had no CHOICE but to open fire. He wished for the days of having soldiers to command, not common rabble. He'd have beaten them and hung them from the trees. The thought of that brought a smile to his face. Strange, he hasn't had such a thought since his last war.

He got up and took down a boar's head mounted on the wall and looked at it, smoking. "What in God's name has been going on lately?" he muttered.

"Perhaps that fellow in the dragon armor had the right of it, old boy," The boar's head spoke at once.

Clayton screamed and fell backward, falling over his chair as he dropped the boar. His pipe went flying, as did one slipper. He slowly rose from the side of the chair as if emerging from the bushes, looking cautious at his trophy, the fires casting shadows over it. A hallucination, that was all. The trauma from the fight, and the opium, must be combining into a bad reaction. "Even if it is, I'm still right," the head said calmly.

For a moment, Clayton didn't speak. Then: "What do you mean, the dragon armored fellow was right? He was just a magical looney."
"Was he? They say there's people out there that can sniff the bad right off ya, no matter how good they are at hiding it."
Clayton sneered. "Well, everybody has their bad side. No one alive is pure of heart, I've been around, haven't I? If you believe that, you ought to check yourself into the nearest sanitarium and ask for the deluxe straitjacket!"
"Too true. But he had you pegged for something, old boy."
"But WHAT?" The hunter snapped.
"Good question. Maybe you ought to take your mind off things. After you heal up, what about a true safari? No magical rifle wielding women in the desert, no giant armored monsters of darkness, no street urchins wielding demonic powers. Just you, the outdoors, and lots of animals to kill."

Clayton thought about this. "It's been a while since I...just went out and shot a bunch of animals."
The boar head seemed to smile. "Now that's the ticket! A man ought to reinforce his place in the food chain, eh?"
"Quite right!" Clayton smiled and posed triumphantly. "Soon as these wounds heal, I'm gathering the servants!"

The boar's head remained quiet after that.

Clayton

2013-02-09T00:23:56Z

Joe: Created page with "{{Character Infobox |firstname=John |lastname=Clayton |age=47 |image=JohnClayton.jpg |caption=Thinkin' About Poaching |species=Human |sex=Male |height=6'1" |weight=180 lb. |se..."

File:JohnClayton.jpg

2013-02-09T00:20:42Z

Joe: