Post by Maverick on Nov 26, 2022 13:36:48 GMT
The vampire twirled chaotically through the air with what appeared to be Zellman. And yet he found even his senses could not be trusted when the reality he himself was inhabiting was twisted. But to his anger, Zellman revealed itself out of nowhere that it was once more the sword. For perhaps the first time, he was beginning to question what exactly it was that was real and what was true.
Yet in this newfound difficulty, he found himself crushingly alone against the forces. But it was in such familiarity he would steel himself for whatever was to come.
In Sunny's place, a golden man had raised his trident towards him. And instinctively he gripped the blade which was nearest to him and clashed with this one. He used it to shift his weight with a swing. And found himself upright in time for the clash with the man. The barrier pushed him back and he was all too happy to open up distance to it -- kicking off it so hard that when he landed, his boots dragged against the stand. And leaned forward with his unwanted blade stabbed into the ground so as to properly stop him.
Septimus dashed quickly enough to the side to sidestep a bullet. However the explosion of the beam caught him. Concussive waves slammed into him and knocked him aside, sending him bouncing through the sand like a doll. Before he'd even hit the ground again. Yet another beam had struck the ground. And with that beam he flew again. And again. And again. Yet he did not grow dizzy from being ragdolled. And he flew through the air -- he took his shot.
He flicked the unwanted sword into one of the beams. And caused it to detonate midair. And in that split second, he gained the opportunity to land. He would recall the unwanted sword and then charged his new opponent.
It would be near his opponent during his high speed dash that he would plunged the sword into the sand. And as he ducked one of the beams, he would rise. And with his rise, he threw a giant plume of sand at the glowing man over two dozen feet high. A makeshift smokescreen. And then with a might heavy heave -- he would send a giant plume of sand two dozen feat in height all around them a makeshift smokescreen.From within the smoke, a sword would be swung. Septimus would be standing right behind the man and throwing a decapitating swing towards the man's neck.
And yet. He would stop the blade.
It was with all his might if necessary, for as much good as his might was when the contour of reality seemed to change before his very eyes. But the last time he attacked an illusion of a man, he seemed to turn into a demon. And with something of a second chance, Septimus sought not to slay what he saw as another slayer. A hunter such as he. Eerily, a string of encounters occurred. And while not all of them were solved without death, it was becoming more common. He had tried killing what was before him before. And now he sought to do something different in this situation. Real whether the one before him was real or not.
"I tire of these soulless conjurations." He growled, unsure of whether or not the man was who he seemed to be.
"Or are you real." At this point, even he couldn't be sure. But when Sunny spoke -- he spoke in a manner that didn't make sense to him. And he wondered if the man would be able to even maintain coherent sentences. He would draw the sword back and hold it defensively in front of him, using it as a shield as he would deny it the kill for now. Alas it was probably the most powerful weapon he had at the moment. Even if it wasn't trustworthy or able to be properly directed to his true enemy.
Yet in this newfound difficulty, he found himself crushingly alone against the forces. But it was in such familiarity he would steel himself for whatever was to come.
In Sunny's place, a golden man had raised his trident towards him. And instinctively he gripped the blade which was nearest to him and clashed with this one. He used it to shift his weight with a swing. And found himself upright in time for the clash with the man. The barrier pushed him back and he was all too happy to open up distance to it -- kicking off it so hard that when he landed, his boots dragged against the stand. And leaned forward with his unwanted blade stabbed into the ground so as to properly stop him.
Septimus dashed quickly enough to the side to sidestep a bullet. However the explosion of the beam caught him. Concussive waves slammed into him and knocked him aside, sending him bouncing through the sand like a doll. Before he'd even hit the ground again. Yet another beam had struck the ground. And with that beam he flew again. And again. And again. Yet he did not grow dizzy from being ragdolled. And he flew through the air -- he took his shot.
He flicked the unwanted sword into one of the beams. And caused it to detonate midair. And in that split second, he gained the opportunity to land. He would recall the unwanted sword and then charged his new opponent.
It would be near his opponent during his high speed dash that he would plunged the sword into the sand. And as he ducked one of the beams, he would rise. And with his rise, he threw a giant plume of sand at the glowing man over two dozen feet high. A makeshift smokescreen. And then with a might heavy heave -- he would send a giant plume of sand two dozen feat in height all around them a makeshift smokescreen.From within the smoke, a sword would be swung. Septimus would be standing right behind the man and throwing a decapitating swing towards the man's neck.
And yet. He would stop the blade.
It was with all his might if necessary, for as much good as his might was when the contour of reality seemed to change before his very eyes. But the last time he attacked an illusion of a man, he seemed to turn into a demon. And with something of a second chance, Septimus sought not to slay what he saw as another slayer. A hunter such as he. Eerily, a string of encounters occurred. And while not all of them were solved without death, it was becoming more common. He had tried killing what was before him before. And now he sought to do something different in this situation. Real whether the one before him was real or not.
"I tire of these soulless conjurations." He growled, unsure of whether or not the man was who he seemed to be.
"Or are you real." At this point, even he couldn't be sure. But when Sunny spoke -- he spoke in a manner that didn't make sense to him. And he wondered if the man would be able to even maintain coherent sentences. He would draw the sword back and hold it defensively in front of him, using it as a shield as he would deny it the kill for now. Alas it was probably the most powerful weapon he had at the moment. Even if it wasn't trustworthy or able to be properly directed to his true enemy.