Complete 18+ Private High March It's High Noon!

Ayna Nietzsche

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High March
An unnamed saloon in an isolated village

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Safe passage. That was all that Ayna wanted. She had been traveling from one forgotten village to another, hoping to find a place where she could stay for a while, hide until everything turned good again, but deep down, a part of her knew all of that was nothing more than a pipe dream. She was a fugitive. A murderer. Her sins would not let her rest easy. Her crimes would not let them be forgotten. All those innocent folks. Taken. And for what? So a mad robot woman can give birth to a fucking egg. A fucking egg.

"Barkeep! Another glass."



It had been a few hours since she arrived at this place, this hellhole. So far, so good. All she got were looks of concern from its usual occupants, the rats, and the dying, the soon-to-be no-more folks of this once probably decent village. It's me as a place, run down and struggling to stay afloat. A survivor, that's what she should be calling them, the village and herself. As she took another swig from her half-clean mug, she chuckled to herself. All she needed to do was to log out, to actually never play again. But how could she? When she did things under the control of some 8-bit <basseal honk>. The Mother of Machines? What a load of crap! Could've just adopted instead of murdering thousands for that fucking egg.

There was more to it, she was sure. Not just about a fucking egg. Or two fucking eggs. But she didn't give a shit. All she cared about was that her freedom was taken from her, and she was made into a puppet for a time that might have been short to others but to her was an eternity in hell. That was all there is to it, right? A difference in perspective. Only a fool would think their point was absolute. There were too many sides to a coin, not just two. Well, maybe not literally. A coin can be a tool, a bartering chip, or a plaything. Those kinds of sides.

Whatever, man. Just leave me be. I just need to...mourn.

@Ammon Ket
 
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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

For days now, weeks even, Ammon has been hunting down the rogue magia that he could, all to avenge those that have fallen to their whims and give justice to those that were left behind. On top of his list was the former Lightning Lancer of the Lament. He had first traveled to Dunnstads, as it was the most obvious location for him to start his mission, but when he caught up with his quarry's ship and former crew, he only smirked when it was revealed to him that @Ayna Nietzsche had long fled Falderen. Clever girl.

So, for the next few days, weeks even, Ammon scoured Astorea, looking for the purple-haired murderer. His plan was to make his way through the kingdom and then to Tertoria should he fail to find her in the first place. First. Place. Get it? Ammon also has jokes. Fortunately for the Watchdog, a chance stop to quench his parched throat ended up a divine deliverance, an intervention of the very cosmos itself, and lo and behold, who should be at this shitty tavern's bar than no other but the once Decoy herself. Ayna Nietzsche...

Ammon smirked as he nonchalantly approached the bar and sat calmly next to his prey, grinning from ear to ear at the dusty old man that kept the bar's blessings flowing. "I will have a glass of cold water, my good sir," he heaved a sigh of relief as soon as he was able to park his trunk on the seat beside Ayna, ignoring the strange looks everyone who heard his order gave him. It was a saloon, yes, spilling with all manners of booze, yes, but Ammon was sober, and he'd rather not break that streak for some quick quest.

"You seem to be a long way away from Ilmea's Lament," Ammon spoke to Ayna in his lowest voice as soon as the aged bartender moved away from them to get the paladin his basic drink. "...Lancer. Or should I refer to you as Captain still?"

While he spoke, the Watchdog was already looking around to gauge any damage or casualty to be had should this chance encounter end up a brutal brawl. There weren't a lot of people there in the first place, so that was a good sign. Those that were already there didn't seem like they needed to be evacuated, a bunch of outlaws and criminals that could do with a reminder of the justice they deserve. Truly, the place was an excellent stage for a fight. But maybe I can still take her in without much violence... I should at least try.
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Ayna had ignored the newcomer before, not interested in making friends or even just acquaintances in this part of the world. She just wanted to be left alone, in peace, so she could rest for a while before moving onward yet again. But the man had made himself hard to ignore, especially after he took the seat beside her, seemingly hellbent on ruining her day. What a fucking asshole.

"There are no captains or lancers here, stranger. Just passing wanderers. I suggest you stick to your water and leave everyone else be, including me."


Although she didn't even turn to face him, she made sure he'd see the glare in her eyes, the threatening fury of the very storms themselves, a warning that he should not cross the figurative line that separated them from each other. Ayna wasn't in the mood for a fight, but if this would end in a fight, she would do all in her power to guarantee her safety, and more importantly, her freedom.

She took another swig of her drink, intending to continue ignoring the stupid man who was looking for trouble. The problem with looking for trouble is, sometimes, trouble finds you first, and trouble's often more than anyone ever bargains for.

Ayna had high hopes the man was a smart man, though a stolen glimpse at his armor made her realize that might just be wishful thinking. A smart man would never waste his time as a knight. Or whatever the idiot was supposed to be.

@Ammon Ket
 
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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

For a second there, Ammon doubted himself. Was she truly the quarry he had traveled all those miles for? The guilty he had promised the families of the fallen to seek vengeance from? The murderous bearer of that Red Lightning that heralded the death of so many innocent people? There was only one @Ayna Nietzsche, and as Ammon steeled himself to stay true to his path, to continue playing the part of the paladin with utmost devotion, he cleared his throat, reining his amusement at the game she was playing. So... This is how you want to play, huh? All right then.

Ammon offered the barkeep a simple smile as he accepted the glass of water brought to him as per his request. The latter, quickly noticing the rising tension between the pair of strangers, then immediately moved out of there, positioning himself far from the two, closer to his loaded crossbow. Just in case. Ammon was not privy to the kind of weapon that he had, nor to the fact that the barkeep had approached any weapon at all, and was too focused on the lady beside him. He took a quick sip of his drink before he spoke again.

"I'm afraid I cannot just walk away from this," he heaved a sigh of disappointment. Although Ayna wasn't getting physical yet, resisting physically at least, she seemed like she was going to go there if push comes to shove. Or however, that American phrase goes. Ammon was already lamenting the fact that he may have to fight her, and he was not too keen on fighting a girl, especially one with such a deadly nickname: "Mistress of the Red Lightning."

"I need you to come with me,"
Ammon took another sip of his water, offering a warm smile to the barkeep and everyone else who was watching them while whispering to the magia in his lowest voice. He didn't wish to alarm the rest of the people in there, provoke a brawl with the entire saloon, or cause distress to so many innocent people. They may not all be innocent as a child but they are innocent of the crimes of the magia. "...return with me and receive justice from the families of those you had slaughtered, Ayna Nietzsche."
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Ayna was starting to get annoyed at the man next to her. If she wasn't already, that is. The man exuded such a self-righteous aura, that the magia could not contain her dislike of him. He reeked of "holiest than thou" arrogance, believing someone like her would just simply go with someone like him. Who did he think he was anyway? Some self-made hero that could bend even the mountains in Lyrwick? Before she was the Lightning Lancer of the Lament, she had been the Lightning of Lyrwick, and thus knew a thing or two about bending mountains to her will.

With an intentionally loud chuckle, Ayna mocked the man, turning to him with a raised eyebrow as she moved her entire body just to take a good long look at this fool. Shaking her head, she finished her drink and asked loudly, so the rest of the tavern's current denizens would know who had invaded their previously safe space:

"Did the fucking Lions send you, boy?"



As soon as those stupid knights were mentioned, an uneasy air fell upon the place. Low murmurs began to transpire, and even the barkeep began to glare cautiously at the knight. The Lions are not always welcomed in dark places. Where shadows dominate, light is often feared and most commonly chased off. Ayna knew that she wasn't welcomed here, but compared to a Lions knight? She would be more welcomed than someone associated with the idea of the country abandoning such a tragic region.

"The Lions, the knights, the would-be heroes who'd rather pick up their swords and mete their so-called justice without first weighing the facts, the same fools that could save this place but have chosen not to? Those Lions?"


Ayna did not like being reminded of her sins, and even though the eavesdroppers would sooner mete their own justice against her, the knight did stupidly whisper her truth instead of just speaking it normally. Now, after she's claimed him to be the villain, anything further that came out of his mouth could be easily twisted into the words of a charlatan trying to pass the blame to an honest woman. Sorry, kid. But it's you or me, and I will always choose me.

@Ammon Ket
 
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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

Ammon cleared his throat. He noticed the mere mention of the Lions changed the atmosphere in the saloon, so he decided to make his case not just to @Ayna Nietzsche but to everyone else in that place. Fortunately for him, the other saloon guests paid him much attention. A lot of it. Or was that actually an unfortunate thing?

"No, I was not sent by the Lions," Ammon rose from his seat and took his time gazing at everyone else, making sure they'd see the sincerity in his eyes, in his face, even though they were all mostly ignoring every word said past the mention of the knights. Ammon, in all his true blue naivete, could not see the writing on the wall, instead believing he could still make his case, he could still make the riffraff believe him, he could still make these people side with him and all that was good and holy. "This is not official Lions business. I am simply doing my duty to the innocent families left behind."

As he continued to speak, however, said riffraff exchanged glances and a few of them rose from their seat as well. Those brave enough to confront the lone knight, or those annoyed enough to make it their problem, walked up to him and started pushing him off of the magia, away from his quarry, much to his confusion and dismay. They weren't doing much really, not enough physicality to warrant a violent response. All they did was stand between the two of them and force him back by moving closer to his face. If Ammon didn't know what personal space was, perhaps he would not have been easily moved without his consent. What is going on?

Soon, he was outside, with three to four men scowling at him. The rest of the saloon patrons went out of the place as well, but only to watch the commotion. One of the men between him and the saloon doors spat on the ground.

"I am not the enemy," he called out to all of them, his disappointment immeasurable and his day ruined. Ammon was trying his best to restrain his rising anger, but cracks were beginning to show over his usually placid disposition. "Your enemy is right there, the woman I had been speaking to, the Mist—." Before he could finish his argument, however, one of the men that had forced him out of the saloon by the sheer invasion of personal space rushed him with a hidden blade. Ammon instinctively parried his drawn weapon with his staff, forcing the man down on the ground using the opposite length of his defensive wood. "Cease this violence at once! I am only here for the woman! Surrender her and I shall be on my way!"

Ammon turned to who seemed to be the leader of the men and imposed upon him the same command to cease through a primal aura. The same man hesitated and took a step back, unnerved at the very sigh of the oryx beastfolk, but another troublemaker lunged at Ammon, who saw the attack coming. The knight decided to time a counterattack, only to not notice the first man from before hurling himself into the back of his knee. In one fluid motion, Ammon found himself falling on his back with a loud thud from the double-team maneuver. Yikes.
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Ah, yes, chivalry: What a reliable albeit easily manipulated concept. Ayna grinned at the thought as she watched the knight get intimidated away from her and outside the saloon. It helped that he was not going to raise his sword at innocent bystanders, even though most of these men were not so innocent. An innocent person wouldn't spend their time at such a place for so many days. These were low lives, criminals, and those with deep regrets, but they had the numbers over the lone Lion.

Initially, the magia decided to just ignore them all, and let the other guests have their way with the knight, but her curiosity was piqued. Would they actually beat him up to a bloody pulp? No, they would never, not unless they were stupid enough to risk the Lions' revenge. Would the knight just accept his fate, not even fight back? Now that was something she wanted to confirm, to see.

Thus, after sharing a chuckle with the barkeep, Ayna joined the crowd outside and watched as the lone knight faced off against three of the hardiest-looking men from the patrons. She squinted when he once again tried to use her unwanted nickname, but thankfully, someone else shut him up. Ayna instinctively took a step forward when she saw the man's hidden blade but heaved a sigh of relief when the knight parried the otherwise painful strike. Wait, I'm not on his side...am I? No, but maybe her conscience was.

The lone knight put up a good fight, she'll have to give him that. Still, the numbers advantage was too much for him, and a newbie's mistake led to his downfall. Literally. Ayna winced as two of the men took the knight down, the loud thud of all that flesh and armor hitting the ground was a terrible noise to hear. Even the other watchers grimaced beside her, chuckling after it was confirmed that the Lion was still alive. The magia herself had to laugh. What was it they said about pride and its fall?

Shaking her head, and already dismissing the boy for being a stupid neophyte, she began to turn around and head back in. But a part of her waited. For what? For the boy to rise again and reaffirm his hardheadedness, his devotion, his faith unwavering. That's what knights do, wasn't it?

@Ammon Ket
 
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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

On the ground, fallen, beaten, and bruised, Ammon could hear the men laughing as they started to walk away from him. Oh, how low has Tyldr's Lion fallen? Not low enough.

Groaning, Ammon pushed himself off the ground and made his way back to his feet. He wouldn't be beaten that easily. Not while he had his oath, not while he was devoted and faithful to the grander cause of this universe. Not while he could still stand and fight.

The men took note of this, and with an eyebrow raised, turned back to him. Their leader spat on the ground again, warning him with his gruff voice, "Just stay down, boy. Return to your masters and never come here again. This is no place for lion cubs." The men, including the other passersby, laughed. Whether it was with the statement or at Ammon, he wouldn't know. All he knew was that @Ayna Nietzsche was watching him, too, and he didn't want his quarry to feel disappointed.

"I am no boy, outlaw," Ammon dusted his armor off with his hands, a little disappointed at the turn of events, more so that these fine folks would harm a knight, even with his low standing. His armor should mean something, his chivalry should be a beacon of hope to those who need it, and his presence a glorious reminder that even in the darkest of places, light can still shine through. Maybe he needed his actions to emphasize those things and more. "Nor am I a cub, and you have now been given fair warning. Think wisely what you wish to do next, for this Watchdog will no longer hold back."

The men turned to each other, exchanging looks of annoyance, while Ammon just stood there, ready to defend himself. When the men yelled and screamed and charged at him, the knight in dusty armor summoned forth his sand-like aura to embrace him from behind, surging forth to torment and punish those who believed they were beyond the watch of justice. The men were covered, swallowed by a miniature sandstorm, localized just around them without making the onlookers suffer the same fate.

As their leader fought on, barely being able to withstand the torrential might of the sands, Ammon just stayed still where he stood, waiting for an attack. When it finally came, he was able to swiftly counter it, hitting his attacker in the knee with his staff, forcing them to their feet, before knocking them out with a powerful strike from the staff to the back of their neck. One down.

Another defiant soul came at Ammon despite the torment of the sands, with the paladin unfazed and unharmed by the element's justice, allowing the latter to easily dodge another thrust of a hidden blade and respond with a sweeping strike to the scoundrel's ankle and another whipping force against the same man's back, sending him to the ground as well. A third strike to the man's head rendered him unconscious as well. Two down.

Ammon kept to the same tactics, taking out more of the same men until it was just him and the leader. Willing the miniature sandstorm away, the knight stood tall over the remaining aggressor, chastising him for believing he would be enough to deter a Lion from his duty. "You could have been more gracious. Instead, you decided to impede and obstruct divine justice. Now you and your friends, the sands have claimed. Tyldr will not save you."
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Things were getting out of hand. As much as Ayna was entertained by all the commotion between the lone knight and the locals of this shitty-ass town, she was slowly growing concerned at the idea of these pathetic landers getting hurt by another Starcalled, another Traveler.

The knight could have graciously bowed out of this unnecessary skirmish, but instead, he like all those before him prioritized the pride of his imagined status at the expense of the common folk. Very knightly indeed.

So, without mincing words, Ayna approached the errant knight, announcing her intervention with a blast of her purple lightning directly at the lone cub. He was a knight. He could shield himself better than the landers could ever hope to. With his sand, he wouldn't need to take such a blow. But the blast could and would save the commoners' lives. Or at least their bruised egos.

"Enough, you privileged fuck! These people are not like you or me! Leave them alone!"


Although the magia was yelling at the Lion, she was envisioning what she would have screamed at herself while she was under the thrall of Szofrit, the Motherfucker of Machines. There was not enough punishment in this world to absolve her of such sins, not especially the ones these self-righteous knights believed they were worthy to dole out. But maybe this encounter, maybe this inevitable battle, will grant her some semblance of a personal breakthrough. It couldn't hurt, right? Well, it will...him.

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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

Before @Ayna Nietzsche's purple lightning could strike the knight, his sand shielded him, but the force was still too much that he was knocked back a few steps from where he originally stood. Ammon winced, not in pain but in shock.

Of course, the Mistress of the Red Lightning was strong! He should've expected it. He studied her, after all, but only through second accounts. Ammon had not witnessed firsthand her wrath nor the wrath of the Mother of Machines, but something told him that he would soon be made acquainted with Ayna's destructive force.

"Then surrender yourself to me, magia," Ammon growled, close to losing his knightly temperament. These games have gone for long enough. She should come with him before more people, more landers, suffered. By the looks of the panicked onlookers, and people scrambling to safety, which included how some of the men that didn't join the ambush on the Lion even started dragging their unconscious fellows to a much safer distance, more suffering was about to descend upon them "Surrender yourself to Tyldr's justice and pay for your crimes!"

He readied his staff for the necessary attack from his end as his sands swirled around and behind him. Ammon might not be as powerful as Ayna, but he was creative and that accounted for something. He had ample experience in the field, too, but there was a reason the Lions didn't actually send him to capture the magia. This was his personal crusade. This was justice going out of its way, beyond the clutches of institutions, to mete out the rightful punishment for a killer, a murderer, a weapon of mass destruction.

"I do not wish to harm these people," Ammon yelled. That was a genuine sentiment. The knight would rather hurt himself than others. But if Ayna would go so far, he would have to harm her and her alone. Until she would give in, until she lost consciousness, until she gave herself up. "But if I have to, I will harm you, Ayna Nietzsche!"

"I will not return empty-handed! I will not leave without you!"
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Ayna was getting tired of the Lions' mutterings. Even as his sands shielded him, she did not relent. She held back, of course, not wanting to kill anyone, even the stupid knight. But she wasn't going to let him put these people to harm. She wasn't going to let anyone do that. Ever again. Not in her presence. Not while she could stop them.

"Your words mean nothing to me, boy! Your threats hold no weight here!"



Ayna blasted him again, her signature purple lightning pouring forth from her hands, crackling from her very fingertips. She knew his sands would shield him again. She's seen this before. From another geomancer, though that massive mountain man was far better at this than the boy before her.

"You are neither my executioner nor my warden! You're not even worthy to guard me in your prisons."


Again, she threw her purple lightning at him, expecting his sands would take the blow for him. In a way, it was a cowardly way of fighting, having your element defend you from an opponent's attacks. Then again, the alternative was to eat those attacks yourself, and no one at the boy's level would survive that.

"Do you even understand the truth of the justice you speak of? No, of course not! You wax poetics like a delusional idiot, a purposeless child playing the role of an errant knight in a world he does not even understand!"


There were so many of them, so many of him. Players who venture forth in this game, in this world, believing they were more than they ever were, than they ever could be, only to die and suffer at the hands of the true power that lurked in the shadows, that watched from beyond their sight. They all liked to play hero, to be the so-called protagonists of made-up stories, all because their real lives were sad and pathetic as fuck.

"When I fought the Leviathan at Ilmea's Lament, I saw Tyldr's justice firsthand! Have you even come so close as to hear a faint whisper from your god?"


Ayna was confident that he has not, though she wouldn't be surprised if he did. Gods were fickle, she'd heard. Not that she'd know anything about that. She was magia. She had no god. At least none that she knew of, none that pranced around whispering deceptive promises to lure the lonely and the poor to do their dirty work for them, sacrificing these fools for their own petty games.

Finally, a third blast of purple lightning surged forward, licking the boy's sands, as if teasing the hapless neophyte with his own death. Like a fucking psychopath.

@Ammon Ket
 
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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

In retrospect, Ammon should have realized he was fast losing his cool. In his defense, however, he's been attacked more than once by the same group of people in just the past hour or so. And he was just doing his job. Well, he was doing the right thing, which was more important than just doing his job. Why couldn't the landers see that? He was not the enemy! She was! @Ayna Nietzsche was the threat here, not him! He was just trying to keep them safe!

Ammon winced as the magia sent a blast of purple lightning straight at him, though his sand-like aura made sure to tank it for him. She was definitely the stronger of their two, which made Ammon slightly worried. What if she went berserk again? What if she ended up overloading herself? What would happen to the innocent landers around them? Another tragedy obviously! "Nietzsche, stop!"

Before he could speak his truth, his defense, another blast was hurled his way, with his aura barely surviving it. Ammon had to take a step back. Slowly, he lost his ground. It was not something he wanted to do, he wanted to happen, but he had no other choice. If she got too close, she might just take them all with her. "Calm yourself! You're endangering everyone here!"

As the third blast took him down, though his aura still took most of that blow, he looked around him, wincing in pain and fear. The other landers were watching, also with fear. Some of them weren't sure what to do. Some of them looked like they knew how helpless they were, defenseless, mere pawns to be cast aside, played with by the more powerful beings in this game. But Ammon was with them. Ammon was for them. And Ammon would not let them suffer anymore.

"I do not test my god, Ayna Nietzsche," Ammon groaned, catching sight of one of the male bystanders picking up a rock. He squinted at him, unsure what he was about to do with it, even though he should've. When the rock hit the back of Ayna's head, or maybe it was just her shoulder, Ammon felt his throat dry up, and stiffened. That man was going to get himself killed. But not if he did something right then and there. So, Ammon did. "My faith will never falter!"

And then he charged at her, attempting to grab at her hands, keep her nuzzled so to speak, while she was distracted by that rock throw. If Ammon could wrestle her, and hold her down, she would not be able to strike at the boy. If only he could.
 

Ayna Nietzsche

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Ayna had gotten way ahead of herself, her emotions getting the better of her, leading to her unintentionally falling into the knight's ploy. What an underhanded trick! It was so unexpected of the boy's archetype, she almost felt a bit impressed. The feeling did not last long, however, as the struggle to break free became the magia's priority. Scowling, she tried her best to wriggle into an escape but to no avail.

Despite her artificial body, the sand knight was stronger. At least stronger while she was pulling back her punches. Ayna did not wish to harm him, even though he'd deserve it for being stupid and stuff. But her patience was waning, and this was no longer entertaining. (Yes, that's a TikTok reference.)

"You've made a terrible mistake, boy! And under your god's merciless gaze!"



Ayna has had enough. She overloaded herself, letting her purple lightning surge through her body. It should have been enough power to knock everyone who was close enough far away from her. She hasn't tried the move for a while, though, so she was most definitely a bit rusty. Hopefully, no one would get hurt. Hopefully, only the knight would get shocked unconscious. A robot girl can dream.

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Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

Has he? Has Ammon made a terrible mistake by attempting to go toe to toe with the Mistress of the Red Lightning, @Ayna Nietzsche? It wouldn't be the first. Ammon would make the worst mistakes if it meant he could save the lives of many. In this case, he'd make the mistake of sacrificing himself if it allowed everyone else to flee to safety.

He was doing just that. As soon as Ammon felt the surge rise up within the magia's artificial body, he turned to everyone else in absolute horror. Ammon didn't waste any more time. He shouted at them, commanding them, directing them, pleading with them to save themselves. It was the only thing he felt he could do at the moment, with what was going on and how fast it was getting out of hand. "Everyone! Run! She's going to destroy us all!"

The crowd panicked. The passersby and onlookers realized that something had gone wrong. They started screaming. They started running. Mothers and fathers picked up their children and ran with them far away. Even the so-called strong men of the tavern were running away, tails tucked between their legs. Ammon could not blame. Ammon even thanked them. If they had stayed, they would become nothing more than collateral damage, another guilty notch in his conscience.

When the burst of lightning came, Ammon closed his eyes as he was pushed back, away from Ayna, off of the magia. Much to his surprise, however, he remained relatively unscathed. His sand-like aura had taken all of the damage, as evident by the wisps of steam rising in the air from the pockets of sand-turned glass that were now stuck on his armor, to bits and pieces of his flesh. His god had intervened. Or at least that's what he believed. It was probably just the well-known fact that Ground-types are immune to Electric-type Moves. Pokemon 101.

"It's not yet too late to do the right thing, Ayna," Ammon groaned, trying to catch his breath from his heart racing. He had panicked himself, afraid it would all end for him right then and there. But it was a fear more for the people he'd leave behind than for himself. Gone was the idea of a game in this world. He had heard too many stories that he believed all the suffering was real. Maybe they were. "Surrender to me peacefully, and no one will get hurt."

His survival only seemed to spark his confidence, however, and Ammon rose back to his feet, head held high, chest out, ready to fight for his god, for these people, against the mad magia that once slaughtered them all. This was his last stand. Come hell or high water, Ammon was standing his ground.

OOC/Combat Guidelines

  • The first one to attack (Ayna because she's insane) will make one Attack roll.
  • Succeeding posters will make two Attack rolls per post, the first will be an attempt to dodge or block the opponent's previous attack and the second will be the poster's own attack. Success or failure will be determined by comparing the opposing rolls with each other (Higher wins, duh?!).
  • All rolls must be made in the #rolls channel.
  • I have faith that we'll both focus on making the entire fight cool instead of trying to one-up each other in this roleplay thread. Let the dice determine our fates.
  • Also, your mom.
 

Ayna Nietzsche

❮ Lore Seeker ❯
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ellectricsushi
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❰ Adventurers Guild ❱



At this point, Ayna was fast sounding like a broken record. But that was only because the boy was being so stubborn, he'd rather die than run home with his tail tucked between his leg. Maybe that was the only way he'd learn his lesson, Ayna was starting to realize. Maybe he needed to die to learn that working against her will never be a safe choice. She is the storm, and he is but a soldier.

"What do you know about the right thing, boy? Oh, and someone is going to get hurt, all right. It just won't be me."


His determination was admirable, Ayna would give him that. But he was just one step away from sheer stupidity, and she was going to let him know that. No use in lying to save an ego. Honesty, even if brutal, could save a life. The magia channeled the purple lightning from within her body and hurled a blast in the knight's direction. Let's see how long that determination lasts.

"Run, stupid knight! Run back home to your superiors and let them know that Ayna Nietzsche is not someone to be hunted!"


@Ammon Ket

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (73) + 10 + 20 + 30 = 133
133 damage
Aeromancy | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814

 
Messages
20
Gold
0
Mastery
0
Valor
1
Event
0
Special
0
OOC
Storage
Veilwalker
Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

"Run, Ayna? And leave all these folks at your mercy?" Ammon groaned again, as he tried to defend himself from her attack with his sand-like aura, only to fail miserably. The purple lightning blast hit him square in his shoulder, forcing him to gasp out loud at the pain, blood spilling from his mouth. It was too much. She was too much. Despite his determination never waning, his body could not do the same. He had been hurt by the innocent folks earlier, and now he could no longer defend himself to his full potential. He was a sitting duck, a stupid duck that did not know the meaning of surrender. "N-No... I can't do that. I must protect them..."

"From YOU!!!"
The attack must have hit him in the head as well, as the knight furiously charged with @Ayna Nietzsche, brandishing his makeshift weapon, a staff meant only for defending, as a guide for his sand magic to launch a counterattack against the magia. Ammon filled that attempt with all his rage, but could he actually make a dent in the artificial body that once laid siege to a settlement under the banner of the Mother of Machines. How many innocent folks fell to Ayna's red lightning? Would he be one of them soon?

No... I must stand my ground... For these people... For myself... I must win this fight!

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (35) + 0 + 0 = 35
35 damage (Defense FAILED!)
Guard Arts | Ammon Ket | 1814

Normal Attack
1d100 (68) + 0 + 0 = 68
68 damage
Geomancy | Ammon Ket | 1814

Ammon Ket: 2/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 3/3

 

Ayna Nietzsche

❮ Lore Seeker ❯
M
Messages
321
Gold
0
Mastery
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Valor
61
Event
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Special
0
OOC
Storage
ellectricsushi
⋇⊶⊰✦⊱⊷⋇
❰ Adventurers Guild ❱



It was like taking candy from a baby. Or at least that's the closest ideology that the magia came to when trying to describe how it felt fighting a sand knight while she was already at her full potential. Or at least close to her full potential. Ayna could always become stronger. All she needed was the right motivation, something she has not had for a while now.

Without wasting any more words, she simply disappeared in a flash of purple lightning, avoiding the paladin's attack. It reminded her of @Chrys, whenever he simply stood there, letting the blades clang in futility against his armor, or @Kamala Graham, whenever she healed quickly from an otherwise debilitating attack. Where were her friends now? She had not contacted them since Szofrit.

Reappearing behind Ammon, she tried to stab him in the back with her spear, believing the battle was over.

"This is where your story ends, stupid knight. You will be like your sands: Mere specks in the grander scheme of things."


And it should have been, if not for his pesky sands getting into her eyes, making her miss him by an inch. Was it divine intervention? Or mere luck? Either way, Ayna had to take a step back, hindered by such annoying circumstances. Tsk! What tomfoolery!

@Ammon Ket

Critical Failure
1
Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (89) + 10 + 20 + 30 = 149
149 damage
Shadow Arts | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814

Normal Attack
1d100 (1) + 10 + 20 + 30 = 61 (Critical Failure...) (Ammon easily dodges this failed attack)
61 damage

Pierce Weapons | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814

Ammon Ket: 2/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 3/3

 
Messages
20
Gold
0
Mastery
0
Valor
1
Event
0
Special
0
OOC
Storage
Veilwalker
Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

The sound of @Ayna Nietzsche appearing from behind him spooked the sand knight, which was an understatement in itself. If Ammon had the time or the leeway, he would have pissed his britches. But the fight was not stopping just because he felt a setback, oh, no. The fight would stop until one of them was unconscious. Probably him.

Fortunately for the Watchdog, it seemed that his convictions were true, as a divine intervention, or at least what he believed to be as such, rendered Ayna's attempt to quickly finish the battle null and void. Whatever it was, most likely sand from his aura, it gave Ammon an opportunity to last longer in this fight and to come up with an appropriate counterattack, one that he hoped would give him a fighting chance.

Leaping backward, as Ayna moved away from him as well, he willed his sand-like aura to once again attack the magia. It was a much stronger attack than his previous one, though at this point, can any of his attacks even hurt her artificial body? Maybe if Tyldr blesses him again, maybe if the divine intervention continued beyond this point, then maybe he would be able to pull off the unthinkable, the contrary of what everyone else expects. Maybe Ammon could win. "Yield, Ayna! Yield as Tyldr demands it!"

Rolls

Defense automatically succeeds due to Ayna's Nat-1 Attack!

Normal Attack
1d100 (86) + 5 + 5 = 96
96 damage
Geomancy | Ammon Ket | 1814

Ammon Ket: 2/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 3/3

 

Ayna Nietzsche

❮ Lore Seeker ❯
M
Messages
321
Gold
0
Mastery
0
Valor
61
Event
0
Special
0
OOC
Storage
ellectricsushi
⋇⊶⊰✦⊱⊷⋇
❰ Adventurers Guild ❱



Did he really think he stood a chance? Even with that slight setback, Ayna was already on the offensive, easily dodging out of the way of his attack like it didn't even need any effort from her artificial body.

Or at least, that's what she had thought would happen. Instead, the sand knight's aura caught her again, perhaps due to her loss of confidence at such a weak attack from herself.

Or maybe this was just a callback to that time a single effort from an old friend caused her to so easily escape the will of the Mother of Machines, an embarrassing defeat but a welcomed respite from all the suffering that she had caused while under Szofrit's thrall.

"You bastard! Do you honestly think that would be the end of me? Disappear in a storm of purple lightning!"


With all the rage of her purple lightning, Ayna almost destroyed the entire area right then and there. However, a stolen glimpse of the terrified onlookers made her change her mind. Without spewing more unnecessary words, Ayna simply drew her spear and charged at the sand knight, looking to deliver a devastating blow that should ensure her victory in this mockery of a duel.

@Ammon Ket

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (49) + 10 + 20 = 79
79 damage (FAILED!)
Shadow Arts | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814 | Defense

Normal Attack
1d100 (87) + 10 + 20 = 117
117 damage
Pierce Weapons | Ayna Nietzsche | 1814 | Offense

Ammon Ket: 2/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 2/3

 
Messages
20
Gold
0
Mastery
0
Valor
1
Event
0
Special
0
OOC
Storage
Veilwalker
Oath of the Watchdog
Lions Pride

“As long as we survive, we can rebuild.”

The Mistress of the Red Lightning was truly a force to be reckoned with. If Ammon Ket had doubted it before, he could not doubt it now that he was witnessing her strength with his own eyes. There was a bit of hesitation from her, however, perhaps her conscience trying to overrule her lust for destruction, but even with her full power reined, the sand knight could barely withstand her raging spear. Even with his sand-like aura, her spear still managed to break through, piercing his shoulder with effortless ease. Will this be his end?

"Ayna! You must listen to me! This is not the way!" Ammon winced and groaned as he felt her cold steel draw blood. He tried his best to respond in kind, but with his strength waning, his physical body failing him, and already at its limit, he could only manage a weak attempt. Even he himself knew it would do nothing against the magia's artificial body. Unless, of course, another divine intervention was sent his way. "You must account for your mistakes! You must submit to the repercussions of your crime! That is the only way you will move forward!"

Ammon Ket had to take a few steps back, his body bent closer to the ground as he held his pierced shoulder, trickles of blood dripping down from the wound. He should not falter. His will was strong, though his body was not. "Think of the fallen! Honor their loss by accepting your punishment!"

@Ayna Nietzsche

Rolls

Normal Attack
1d100 (72) + 0 + 5 = 77
77 damage (FAILED!)
Guard Arts | Ammon Ket | 1814 | Sands, Defend Me!

Normal Attack
1d100 (24) + 5 + 5 = 34
34 damage
Geomancy | Ammon Ket | 1814 | Earth, please crit!

Ammon Ket: 1/3
Ayna Nietzsche: 2/3

 
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