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deercountry2022-09-20 06:06 pm
distant_one) wrote in deercountry2022-09-20 06:06 pm
September Catch All
Who: D, his Left Hand, and anyone
What: September Catch All for D
When: Throughout September
Where: Various places.
Content Warnings:: Blood and gore, purposely slow death
Knowledge Is Power [open]
Learning something sounded easy. Even after finding out what it was he was supposed to learn, it wasn't truly that arduous a task. Simply one D didn't want to engage in. Many lesser prizes would have simply been abandoned as there was little enough that D actually needed. But this was something with a benefit that was hard to duplicate and hard to quantify.
'Knowing' someone was a bit subjective. D would just have to pick someone a lot more open and outgoing than himself.
The Great Hunt(er) [open]
D could easily be found visiting areas where the Bugge had died or been sighted during the day. His nights were otherwise occupied, but during the day he had time to investigate. When he wasn't stalking its trail or trying to lure it into a preferable area he could be found taking samples of soil, freshly spilled blood, or pieces of plants near where it had been killed.
When it came time to kill it, D deviated from his usual method of a quick painless kill. Shallow slashes as part of a running battle let blood spray everywhere except onto D himself. Only when the Bugge began to slow or its roars turned from anger to pain did he go in for the kill
Wildcard
What: September Catch All for D
When: Throughout September
Where: Various places.
Content Warnings:: Blood and gore, purposely slow death
Knowledge Is Power [open]
Learning something sounded easy. Even after finding out what it was he was supposed to learn, it wasn't truly that arduous a task. Simply one D didn't want to engage in. Many lesser prizes would have simply been abandoned as there was little enough that D actually needed. But this was something with a benefit that was hard to duplicate and hard to quantify.
'Knowing' someone was a bit subjective. D would just have to pick someone a lot more open and outgoing than himself.
The Great Hunt(er) [open]
D could easily be found visiting areas where the Bugge had died or been sighted during the day. His nights were otherwise occupied, but during the day he had time to investigate. When he wasn't stalking its trail or trying to lure it into a preferable area he could be found taking samples of soil, freshly spilled blood, or pieces of plants near where it had been killed.
When it came time to kill it, D deviated from his usual method of a quick painless kill. Shallow slashes as part of a running battle let blood spray everywhere except onto D himself. Only when the Bugge began to slow or its roars turned from anger to pain did he go in for the kill
Wildcard
Faulty Memories [closed for Duty]
This memory. One D has already had shared against his will.
It starts with him staring up a three-hundred foot, high tech cylinder at himself and a young woman. Except this time they have a spectator. A man whose resemblance to both Ds is undeniable
"Hey." The figure wearing D's face calls in D's voice. "I'm coming down now, but first I want you to throw down your sword. Have your friend disarm, too." Unlike D's usual emotionless voice, the figure standing in the vision is visibly and audibly cheerful.
Unlike in the real memory, D's hand is silent. The one they would talk about is here after all.
I need to stall him. play along. D says without moving his mouth. It's a little-used skill, one he rarely has reason to use and prefers to keep to himself unless it's necessary.
The Fake D standing above them is impatient, and pulls the sword from his back to hold it at the young woman's throat. "Hey, what's the holdup? If you don't lose the sword, the girl dies!" Despite his ominous words, the threatening D's face and tone are both extremely cheerful. Even with that jovial expression and voice, he's no less dangerous.
The sound of a sword being drawn has an almost musical note to it, D pulling his sword while he stares up at himself.
"Sheath and all! And I want the sword guard secured to the sheath, too." The cheerful D calls from above. D wastes no time doing as told before he drops the sword to his feet.
"Kick it away."
D complies with that, too, though the sword doesn't go nearly as far as he could kick it away.
no subject
He doesn't react to D's voice, words just for him. He moves slowly and deliberately, keeping the rapier in its hilt, and gently setting it on the ground. It's ten thousand years old, maintained in good condition with love and devotion beyond its tactical value. He kicks it away lightly with his hands open in the air. Not a threat, it says.
Remaining are two pistols at his waist and a baton made of bone with a metal tip. One gun is loaded with bullets of Coldblood, the others regular. Not knowing what role is most useful—besides buying time—he doesn't say anything yet. Just a friend, ally, lackey, whatever anyone thinks of D's and nothing more. Certainly not the greater danger.
no subject
"All right. I'm coming down now. Hey, stick out your left hand." The cheerful D calls from above, earning a quiet 'that son of a bitch' from Left Hand.
D, still silent, holds out his left hand.
"Perfect." The cheerful D says before he leaps down headfirst, bringing the girl with him. The copy lands well within reach of D, and all that's visible of the sword slash that removes D's arm at the elbow is a flash of light. The cheerful D gives D, who is now holding his dripping wound, a playful wink.
Unless he draws blood again don't engage. I need to get him worked up and angry first. Angry enough to make mistakes
"Sorry about that. There's been a change of plans. You must know that by now, eh?"
"Did he put you up to this?" D is just as emotionless as ever.
"Bingo! I find it all pretty repulsive myself, but when I heard I was his sole heir, I had to make a move."
"So you want to be him?"
"Hell yeah!" The fake D says, scratching the tip of his nose with an almost bashful expression before gesturing at the man silently watching them. "You know who He is, I mean, He's the ruler of the whole world! And what's what I'll get to be."
"His kingdom has all but collapsed."
"Hell, it can be built back up again. There are still feudal lords doing well out on the Frontier. Band them all together and I could make a drive for the Capital in short order. The Humans' balls will shrivel up as soon as they see what Nobles can really do."
"Which are you? A Noble or a human?" It seems that even without showing emotion, D knows how to push the more emotional counterpart's buttons.
"I refer the same question back to you. Of course. I already know the answer. You were the top of your class."
That draws the first sign of emotion from D, as it seems they both know how to get under one another's skin. "If I was the top of my class, you must be too." D sounds amused, but he's still as evasive as ever.
The cheerful D laughs, broad and mirthful. "Well, you've got me there. Since it never hurts to ask, wouldn't you like to join forces with me? The two of us could take on the Capital together! And the surviving Nobility would accompany us. Even if some of them resisted or other trouble came up, we'd be fine if there were two of us. We could solve any problem just by glaring at them. After all, we're his-"
"Go to the Capital alone."
That had the previously cheerful D squinting at him and smiling sadly. The fake turns away, but it's a feint, and D only barely dodges the lightning fast sword slash.
"I'm sure you already know this," The armed D says, once more cheerful and grinning. "But I was just sizing you up."
"There's no way around it," The fake D says, cheerful demeanor given away to purely murderous intent. "Things have gone too far, and both of us being one and the same has become a problem. In the end, it's every man for himself.
D, unarmed, still has a sharp tongue and takes the opportunity. "You're human, then?"
That's enough to have the previously cheerful D howling in uncontained rage as he swings at D.
no subject
His left hand reaches his waist and frees the baton. In a smooth move, Duty lunges forward and extends both arm and weapon. The spear extends to its full length, and the metal point stabs between the opposing D's ribs straight to the heart. Metal, not wood.
He pulls the spear free before it can get stuck, retraction speeding the process up. It returns to full size, as Duty slides to avoid the angry rebuttal to his attack. His right hand clasps the hilt of his rapier as he goes past, drawing it from the hilt. The move leaves him a short ways away from the main battle.
Three things catch his eye. The spectator—D's father—watches, a god among even his children. D's left hand isn't where it landed. It not only speaks but moves on its own. Its path takes it toward the sword D's opposite so carefully separated him from. The mistake is leaving D's left hand intact, whatever that means for it.
Duty smirks and circles around the fight, so his attack keeps that action in their opponent's blind spot. He's used to being the distraction, and his heart sings at the combat. Fully armed with his primary weapons of the myriad, he isn't a dhampir, but he stops thinking and moves faster than conscious thought.
no subject
D follows along in Duty's wake, dancing out of the way of his twin's blade slowly enough that they don't overtake Duty before he gets his sword. It costs D a small injury, blood drawn from his left shoulder as he twists to avoid taking a lethal hit to his heart.
Once Duty is armed and upright D pivots and leaps to his side, trusting that Duty will be fast enough to cover him in the moment it'll take to land and turn again. For all that Duty is the one who is still armed, D's twin keeps his focus more on D. D keeps his focus on his twin as well, he doesn't dare even glance at his own sword.
A moment of inattention could get him killed or give away the game. The Left hand works quickly, he already has the sword and is untying it. An awkward action for a hand by itself.
CW: gore (eyes)
His attacks harry the enemy D. They'd kill a slower, weaker enemy. Against a D, they draw small wounds and cover Duty's partner. Necromancers are always few on the battlefields and protected at high cost. D serves a similar role. With rapier at close range and the spear when they move away, Duty fights every moment, an irritation that simply will not let the man be.
Duty feints toward the twin's open mouth as he snarls toward D, anger seeming to make it a vulnerable target. With all D's speed the twin twists away from it faster than he can close his mouth. Duty adjusts his aim in time with it, jerking the tip of the spear up into the soft target of an eye. His full strength goes into the blow so that the spear anchors deep in the eye socket, the bone itself sliding in. That bone, his bone, connects him with his enemy. Duty flashes fire hotter than the Mithraeum's incinerator into the same space as the eyes, one a blueprint for the other. They snap, crackle, pop into tiny pieces that break down into ash. As soon as they are destroyed, hardly any time at all, he ices the space within the socket. His spear slides back like nothing, the tiniest space left around it to move freely, and Duty with it.