ᶜˡᵒᵘᵈ ˢᵗʳⁱᶠᵉ {ᶠᶠ⁷} (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bravers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-27 12:34 am
bravers) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-27 12:34 am
[open;] if the dust in my pocket were silver or gold
WHO: Cloud Strife and your character! (Hopefully.)
WHAT: A few of the dive bars in Cadens are favourites of lower-ranking members of the military for multiple reasons. Some examples of which are a "don't ask, don't tell" ethos, cheap drinks, and more recently? Gambling. Tournaments are held infrequently at a few back-alley bars within the capital, with the prize pot going to the victor. Seeking funds, Cloud has decided to participate.
WHEN: End of October!
WHERE: Cadens
WARNINGS: Poor depictions of violence, probably.
NOTES: I wasn't going to do a tournament is actually happening right now tag but if you want your character to participate, PM me! I'll put one up!
WHAT: A few of the dive bars in Cadens are favourites of lower-ranking members of the military for multiple reasons. Some examples of which are a "don't ask, don't tell" ethos, cheap drinks, and more recently? Gambling. Tournaments are held infrequently at a few back-alley bars within the capital, with the prize pot going to the victor. Seeking funds, Cloud has decided to participate.
WHEN: End of October!
WHERE: Cadens
WARNINGS: Poor depictions of violence, probably.
NOTES: I wasn't going to do a tournament is actually happening right now tag but if you want your character to participate, PM me! I'll put one up!
no subject
A larger, bearded man possessing two viciously curved axes looks unsure.
He's staring at Goro's back- and it's clear on his subject's face- the way his lower lip seems to quiver underneath his mess of a beard seems he's having a word with himself. But the way his body trembles under the influence of what he's taken, the way his veins on muscled, filthy arms stand up from the skin, the voice of reason is deeply embattled against the substance he's taken to amp himself up.
He roars, suddenly- deciding to establish his masculinity by grabbing the man closest to him- a strange-looking man with a bald head and a scimitar that looks well beyond what he could possibly hope to afford- and forcing his face into the wall. Then he retreats under the rope to open booing.
...Okay, he thinks. So three remaining. That's good. Less opportunity for someone to an injury that's going to follow him into the next match, but there's Goro. That's going to be an ordeal unto itself. He shifts on his feet, reaffirming his gaze upward. Even though Goro's leaning down, he still has to crane his neck to do so.
"I ain't here to trade compliments." He responds, tone brisk enough to infer indifference, yet if Goro were attentive, he'd easily see how uncomfortable he was. It's characterized clearly. The way his fingertips dig into his arms, the way his breathing hitches- but he still stares upward. It's as if he's experienced unwanted attention from someone that frankly? scares the shit out of him before.
His discomfort with... well, said compliments, stem from the fact they're coming from someone who clearly looks capable of ending him. Not just winning a tournament, but actually breaking him in two. And that kind of attention, from someone like that? Yeah, it's turning into a regular thing.
Instinctively, he moves his gaze away when his eyes are mentioned. Great. He can't help but think, sardonically- as a vague strategy of exploiting a preconceived notion of brawn equalling stupidity slips away from him. He's big, but he's not stupid.
"... You done yet?" He asks, hopefully dismissively. Though in all actuality? More in the manner of a small dog trying to present itself as a big one. And failing.
no subject
So despite his efforts, Cloud is an open book to the Shokan, who's lips part in a knowing grin, a low chuckle emanating from his throat as the other fighter withdraws, but not before proving...something. Goro hears the altercation but doesn't bother to watch. Only those insecure in their strength need resort to such petty displays, and Goro stands completely relaxed. He's the only one.
"I wonder if perhaps I was mistaken." Goro muses, watching Cloud. "You hide it better than most, but you are ruled by fear. So palpable I can smell it."
One of the other remaining fighters, a big man himself, or at least someone who thought of himself as big until Goro rolled up, has been watching everything going on, sweat beading from his brow. He reeked of alcohol and other intoxicants when he first entered, and Goro plus the play at dominance by the other fled fighter have put him increasingly on edge. He stares at Goro's back, clearly psyching himself up, his face a mask of terror and fool's courage. Whatever is going through his addled brain, he takes a shaky step forward, hesitates, and then charges the Shokan, and with a scream of half terror and rage throws a punch directly into his lower back. There's power behind it.
And it barely rocks Goro. The bar goes deadly silent as the Shokan turns around from Cloud and sees the would-be assailant. One of his lower arms grabs the man's arm, still outstretched from the panicked attack. He watches the man squirm for a moment...and then twists.
The man shrieks with pain as Goro releases him, falling to the floor and clutching his broken arm. For his part, Goro merely wipes his lower hands together, as though he'd just finished a chore.
"I was mistaken about all of this. There are no warriors here. Only the desperate and children."
no subject
The other fear- the one that controls him- is nothing useful.
A quiet breath of a snort escapes him. His eyes narrow- the swirling flecks of acid green on chemical blue sharpen and his mouth curls- as if to snap something unkind back- but nothing comes. Instead, he can hear some lumbering in the background, quiet whispers turn into a hush, one, two, three large, heavy footsteps and-
He's sure as hell not about to warn him.
He's not about to say anything at what seems to be the beginning of the others evening thier odds for the battles to come. But he would worry what's to happen to him.
That some blow, somewhere important- a kidney or at the back of Goro's (Honestly? Probably weak comparatively, considering what they have to support.) legs would have this mountain of a combatant forced forward, with only himself in his path before the wall, but Goro doesn't move. Hell. He barely sees his skin(?) ripple at what would surely be a blow that sounded like it could sure as hell put most men out.
The hush is now dead silence.
A glass even drops.
And he's speechless as he takes a single step to the side, just to view past Goro's... breadth... to see what's happened. The lower arms work. His face, as he watches the man, a man easily a good foot taller, easily a good foot wider than himself wriggle like a boy behind held by an adult is profound. A look of dismay crosses his face before...
snap.
There's a shriek. Whether it's the man or an onlooker... he honestly doesn't know. But the arm's broken, all right. Viciously. Cloud was a man who had seen violence. A lot of it. But the way that arm's sticking upward when it has no right to...
He feels sick.
He catches the latter half of the next statement. What he said before, about warriors...
"...You..."
Don't be sick.
"It's a bar tournament. You expected more than drunks and junkies?"
Normally, such an action, Goro should have been eliminated. Snide jabs were one thing, if done discreetly. Breaking someone's arm was something else. But even the bar's designated heavies- rough, surly types which, fortunately, seem to be mostly sober- seem to be trying to palm off actually removing the Shokan.
no subject
"How am I to test my strength without worthy opponents to face? To fight a weakling tells me nothing. Pah." He turns away again, with a dismissive wave of his upper arm. "There is nothing for me here. The outcome is already decided, and that does not interest me."
Stepping over the mauled, sobbing man, Goro heads for the ropes, the remaining fighters eager to get out of his way. "I will take the tournament purse, however, as compensation for my wasted evening." As he said, the outcome was already decided, was it not? No reason Goro should walk away completely empty-handed.
hey! sry for the slow responses, im in DIY hell irl atm. I'm not losing interest in the thread tho!
I'm supposed to be the upset. He answers, at least in his thoughts. Because that's what he planned. Sneak out of the barracks, tour a couple of the fighting rings, knock around some people that probably had it coming anyway, and make some money. Get used to the way things were done in these things by playing nice until he knew enough about the inner workings to rig some bets, manipulate some greed, and make more than the pittances offered as prizes.
But he's hardly that now. Goro- for all Cloud's intent and all of Cloud's purpose- had well and truly taken that role.
But he doesn't answer. Instead, he simply glowers- reduced to... well, silence. Because yeah. Like hell he was going to come out with that where any of the onlookers could easily see and easily hear him. So... it's not his finest moment. He's reduced to glowering, silently, as the wretch of what was the combatant whines quietly to himself (and his screwed up arm) right behind the Shokan.
But then the comment about the tournament purse is announced, and he steps forward.
"You ain't getting it until you win. Those're the rules. I haven't withdrawn, so if you bail without fighting me? That's nothing but theft."
He's afraid. Of course he's afraid. Being afraid meant he wasn't entirely out of his mind. But he's seen enough to formulate a point of attack, and he's ready. And snappishly:
"Thought you were a warrior."
hey no worries! take as long as you need, I can keep. And me neither!
Goro stops at the rope, hand on it to toss it aside, as Cloud taunts him. "You two." He doesn't even look at the other two remaining fighters. "Leave." They don't need further encouragement and quickly duck under the rope and flee. There's no booing from the crowd this time. The show going on in front of them between Shokan and SOLDIER is far more interesting.
"By the time the sun rises you will know pain far more intimately than you ever have before." Goro continues once they're gone. Someone finally manages to muster the courage to dart in and pull the wounded, wimpering fighter away leaving only the two of them. "In ways you never knew it was possible to be hurt. I have had 3500 years to perfect my art, and tonight your body will be my canvas." Goro turns to face Cloud now, stepping forward. "But I will not kill you. Consider that my mercy...and prepare for kombat."
This elicits a cheer from the crowd. How quickly the mood turns from being terrified of Goro to the promise of a truly excellent fight. New bets are quickly placed at the bar. Quite a few for Goro, but Cloud's apparent fearlessness won over more than a few patrons who shout his name along with their bet. Goro keeps his eyes locked on Cloud, however. There's anger in his eyes.
Thanks!
More importantly, he's got to look less at their actions, and look out for himself.
He's silent as Goro thunders out his intent. His only real chance, he's sure, is that those 3500 years have allowed the other to get arrogant too, or at the very least- came with a few bad habits to exploit. Because honestly? From the sheer size, power, and... broadness... of Goro, he's guessing his kind have a hell of a lot longer in their lives than that timeframe. It's hard to tell, given the fact he's so different. But be doesn't look past his prime. Not at all.
Following that... declaration... Cloud's silent, moving his eyes away from the Shokan. Yet it's hardly cowardice. He's staring- intently- at a tiny little doorway that leads out into an alley. For it was that alley where matches usually happened. And just like before, he needs to focus.
And as it opens...
He walks toward it without a single word. And yes. He's picking up that fancy-looking scimitar on the ground as he goes. There's whispers as he moves. Some jeers about deathmarches, about an execution. But he says nothing... save for one thing.
"C'mon, gramps."
Maybe he can start by using that anger against him.
no subject
with...some...difficulty, Goro manages to squeeze his bulk through the entirely not built to Shokan scale door, but it does take a few moments. From behind him in the bar he hears a snicker, but a quick turn and glare (accompanied by an all-too animalistic growl) shuts whoever the would-be heckler was up quickly.
Once out, he examines the alley with a practiced indifference. "Tight quarters, no place to retreat to." He notes, wiping the sandstone wall of the alley with a single thick, black-nailed finger, idly examining it, and then rubbing the remains away. "Hardly ideal for you." Of course the fact that it means Goro might have a harder time given how much larger and wider he is in the cramped alley goes unsaid. It makes little difference if he can just get his hands on Cloud, which should not be too difficult to manage, sword or not.
no subject
He's... full of bravado, but Goro's right in a lot of ways. The alleyway is tight- tight enough for him, if he really wanted, to extend his upper arms and touch each wall. The dirt pathway between them is mostly viable purchase- though the fights beforehand (most notably close to the walls) is slippery with old blood, brain matter, vomit, and who knew what else.
Winning's still a possibility, if only in Cloud's mind. It's a dogged one- stubborn to leave- but thankfully (for him) a strategy of survival isn't absent. It mostly revolves around not allowing Goro a chance to get hold of him. Small strikes. Nothing flashy. Getting clear. Another one. Getting clear.
It's endurance more than power. And-
The crowd, heckler and all, by now have moved up two flights of stairs onto balconies which, more than likely, were designed for drying clothes, but repurposed by an enterprising bar owner to serve as viewing platforms. Cloud's only really aware of the fact the match should be underway by a shout from above- of Just get on with it! and a glass shattering, thrown from above, at the wall behind him.
He inhales.
And he turns the scimitar in his hand.
How long has it been since he used anything singlehanded?
Just fucking fiiiiight!
Another glass.
no subject
Goro leaps.
From where he stands at the end of the alley, the Shokan suddenly propels himself forward into the air, raising all four fists as he does so to bring them down on Cloud as hammerblows. Apparently, he doesn't intend for this to be a very long fight.
The saving grace is that he doesn't have the clearance to put his full amount of power into the jump, constrained as he is by the tight confines of the alley, but it's still going to hurt if even one of his fists manages to connect.
no subject
It's tight. Of course it's tight- even with the power Goro should have in his legs, his weight alone should ensure the leap isn't going to get him that far off the ground- but he succeeds, mostly, in evading the attack and getting behind him with a roll. And then, instantly, he uses his position to aim a vicious kick to the back of one of the Shokan's knees.
Goro might then notice something.
By appearance, Cloud is a lean man. Scrawny even- with some muscle, sure. But nothing remarkable. But the force in which the blow should strike the back of his joint- should it even land at all- should be significant. It should feel less like a blow by one man- more like a blow by twenty. And that, given the fact that the blonde gives no indication of such strength, no feasible sign of it- might be surprising.
Cloud, himself, doesn't know if it's enough to stagger him. Hell- what was enough to dislocate a human's knee from the off might mean nothing to someone like Goro. He'd fought monsters, but never anything like this before. So regardless, he's not greedy. He doesn't linger afterward- doesn't chance more attacks- instead darting right back.
To boos, of course. Some abuse is thrown, in more glasses, and jeers from a crowd expecting blood, and quickly.
no subject
"First blood. I give you points for that." He acknowledges, beginning to advance, farther into the alley. "I knew you were more than human. Good. Then we shall do this properly...as warriors."
And then he charges. He brings up his lower arms in defensive positions to block anymore incoming attacks to his center of mass. But his upper arms are ready for an attack. A downward strike from the left, a right hook from the other. This time he leaves nowhere for Cloud to move other than to retreat, or attempt to face the attack. Goro accepts that sword will bloody him, since Cloud can put some power behind the swing, but Shokan skin is tough. And a fight where he doesn't bleed is hardly a fight at all.
no subject
It didn't do much. But the monster of a man clearly felt it, so concentrating on it with future opportunities wouldn't be useless. He can make it into something- and it's a start. All he needed was a start, and he got one. He just has to stay focused, and-
Goro's talking again.
His eyes narrow- tellingly- at the insinuation he's not human- and although, clearly, it wasn't intended as a taunt, he's taking it as one. And it affects him.
"Shut the-"
Massive mistake. He's open - so much so that Goro's subsequent charge is undodgable. All he can do is attempt to defend, and being righthanded, Goro's left- the downward strike- is met with the sword. Using both arms, Cloud attempts to hold the sword, blade up, to meet Goro's fist- but again, he's open.
The right hook- from a hand easily as big as his head- lands. And the force of both blows is massive. The sword bends against Goro's left fist. Perhaps striking the sharpened blade bloodies him, but the sword, by far, comes off worse. It in itself buckles- resembling a boomerang at the impact, being forced out of his hands, and clattering on the ground.
He would be pissed. Because selling that thing at the end of this was about the only way he was thinking he'd be sure of some money- but Goro's right hook is far more of a pressing concern. Especially as it lands.
The force of it is enough to knock him sideways- smashing his body against the side of the alleyway's filthy brick wall- shuddering it, and the balcony connected to it, and even leaving a series of long cracks.
He slumps to the ground, face down, and the audience, of course, think it's over. That blow was enough to break anyone's neck. At the very least, it's enough to shatter every bone at the side of someone's face- and it seems that's the impression the crowd come to as the blonde lies there, motionless.
Is he pretending, or is he really out?
no subject
"Hrm. Disappointing." He spits. He approaches the prone SOLDIER, examines him for a moment, and then reaches for one of Cloud's arms to pull him up by it. Try to see if he really is out cold (or dead, possibly, given the strength with which he hit the wall)...or quite possibly leave himself open to attack, if Cloud is indeed faking. But if Goro has considered that possibility, he's clearly not worried about it.