Snippet #1710260

District Gamma

Victoria swayed uneasily, watching the group of saboteurs systematically cut down the assassins. Were they really so well trained? Why was she even here? Questions, both inane and serious wracked her brain as the last of the poison was neutralized- leaving nothing but a feeling of nausea. The antidote she injected herself with wasn't necessarily non-toxic, but combined with the poison dart the compound would neutralize by reacting with each other. Even as she staggered backwards and retched into the fetid waters of the sewers, an assaulting saboteur remained aggressive, forcing his way past Scheherazade and quickly engaging Victoria.

His opening slash was quickly deflected, almost clumsily so. The bomberman would have been able to parry and stab Victoria if he wasn't busy trying to stop all his forward momentum during the cut. Following up with two more cuts, Victoria quickly deflected those as well, before shoving the man back and attempting to press her own attack. Her initial stab was blocked, but her viper-like kick quickly broke his guard despite the fact that Victoria couldn't take advantage of it. Her vision went slightly blurred as she stumbled back, resisting the urge to regurgitate what little was left in her stomach. The man quickly recovered, throwing himself at her once more. His overhead slash was dodged, as Victoria side-stepped to the left and quickly bringing the pommel of her sword swinging into his side. The saboteur stumbled sideways, his hand slapping against the wall of the sewers to push off and meet Victoria's sword. However, the crafty apprentice had a trick up her sleeve, as her left hand was holding a small needle that jabbed quickly into the man's stomach. Jumping away, Victoria kept the man at bay as he swung his sword twice, then shuddered and pitched over. Suddenly, a boom rocked the sewers, as Victoria's heart instantly dropped down to her stomach. She stumbled out of balance, falling to her knees and struggling to keep herself from blacking out. She stumbled to her feet as quickly as she could, raising her blade and quickly searching for her next foe. The bombs would need to be defused quickly at this point.

She was met by another man Scheherazade had dealt with, who had got up and attempted to double-team the fire-swinger. Wary of her new weapon which brought the horror of fire down to the sewers, he tried to circle around and attempt to flank her from the back. However, even as Victoria moved to kill him he wasn't so oblivious as to realize her oncoming footsteps- unsteady but sure. With a block, Victoria used the crossguard of her blade to swing the man away from Hera, and to kick him away. She followed the man backward, giving the fire-swinger more room to operate as she viciously swung her sword twice at the man. The man was barely able to block as he tried to regain his footing, but Victoria kept pushing him backward, constantly keeping the man on the defensive. The opportunity finally came as the man tripped over a crack in the walkway, and Victoria quickly ducked down and slashed at his legs. The man fell backwards, bringing his blade up even as Victoria's foot swiped the air and knocked the sword from his grasp. In a single fluid motion, the blade grip became underhanded and the steel ate quickly through the man's upper torso. Withdrawing the blade, the man coughed and clutched at his wound as blood spilled onto his lap and hands. Victoria turned back to the confused melee, which was dying down very quickly as Amon breezed through foes like an angel of death.

The Nexus

Taylor's numbed thoughts could only spell "death" over and over, even as the blade seemed to descend in slow motion. Despite everything, he closed his eyes- afraid of what was to come until a quick blur of motion confused the dazed nobleman. Eos, in his gray mottled cloth had swept in, taking care of the man very quickly. Clawed gauntlets, however, was the only thing on Taylor's mind. What an interesting choice in weaponry. Even as he finished the oblivious thought, the assassin quipped a quick greeting, throwing him a flintlock pistol and a satchel of gunpowder and pellets.

Taylor nodded once, though still blinking away patches in his eyes as he struggled to his feet. Taking the gunpowder, he quickly loaded it and shoved the pellet in. Without proper tools and only the bare essentials, this thing was more likely to explode in his hand than kill an enemy. Nevertheless, his enemies didn't care about his problems and as the first man ran up he quickly froze as a resounding bang registered in his ears and he felt like he had been punched. Collapsing, a red flower bloomed on his gut as his spasms slowed. He lowered the gun to reload it, but Loki was suddenly there, the same damned dry expression on her face as always. He almost laughed as she held out the Epieu that he forgot to bring, almost as if she found his and kept it all this time. Taking it gratefully, Loki once again disappeared in the tangle of limbs and bodies as Taylor felt a familiar weight back on his hand. Though his left arm was rendered completely useless due to the heavy attack he suffered earlier, he could still wield his light spear easily with one hand. Even as he lifted the shaft, two men stormed into his line of sight, blade drawn. Taylor kicked the flintlock, causing one to stumble slightly as he stepped on the weapon, skidding across the polished floor. Taking the opportunity, Taylor jabbed the second man, forcing him to jump back. The two soldiers regrouped, coming at him from both sides. Sidestepping a slash on his left, he whipped the shaft around and bashed the man in the head, his helmet doing very poorly in shielding the physical trauma. Twisting, he speared the second soldier, barely dodging the stab aimed for his exposed back. The soldier coughed, and was thrown away from Taylor as he pivoted and brought down the spear into the first soldier. A third soldier came along, and with that a brief view of the chair wielding blacksmith.

Taylor watched in horror as the old smith was gored from all sides, hardly believing the old man who was full of strength had been so quickly put down. This made Taylor very aware of his own injuries, and how terribly his arms and knees were shaking as blood poured from his open shoulder wound. The third man wasn't complaining- the weaker his opponent, the quicker he could get the job done. Even as they clashed, Taylor proved to be a hefty opponent- resisting death at every turn. The third soldier soon met his end, but the men engaging Forgefire had now converged on him. With one arm useless, his vision tunneled, and only one thought in mind, the young nobleman shrank tighter and tighter as blades formed a tight web of steel around him. Parrying the first attack, he quickly moved in and slammed two fingers into the man's right eye socket. Forcing him across, he gored himself on his comrade's blades. Even as they struggled to get him off, two more engaged Taylor, who dodged two sword stroke but did not get so lucky with the third. Even as he felt a wound open over his right thigh, he knew that he couldn't give up. Loki, Eos, and even Carlisle were still doing their best to avoid the rider on his grey horse. Stumbling, Taylor's spearhead slashed the man's throat, an incredibly precise action for one so drunk from bloodloss with a weapon so inept at slashing.

The men had freed their blades from their comrade, once again tinting Taylor's vision white and red with bloodied steel. Smarter this time, they did not let Taylor get a respite he so desperately needed. Dodging his stabs, pushing away his grabs, the young nobleman felt his strength ebb at a much higher rate now. His breath was labored and his kind green eyes were dulled as the soldiers finally spotted an opening not very long after surrounding Taylor. However, Loki's nearby presence forced a detachment to break off and keep her busy, leaving Taylor with about three-quarters of the remaining men. Some, seeing the young noble's pitiful state moved to engage others, such as Eos and Carlisle (who slaughtered like butchers with fresh pig). Facing four men, Taylor broke into a mad dash, knocking the blade down as it was raised and slashing the man across the chest with his Epieu. He didn't stop himself, tackling the man to the floor. Taylor's vision flashed dangerously as he landed on his broken collarbone, lances of pain spearing all the way up his shoulder. He rolled over, using the adrenaline pulsing through his body to provide the strength to lift the body and absorb the blade that was aimed for him. Rolling to the side, Taylor butted the struggling soldier with his spear pommel, causing the man to hunch over. Using the fist that handled the shaft, he performed a wild haymaker that instantly knocked out the trapped soldier, sending him sprawling. Two soldiers brought their swords overhand, aiming to take advantage of the noble. With a twitch, his near-useless left hand ignored the protests of his body, raising the spear into a block.

Both blades bent the hardened steel core of the shaft, cracking the wood and causing Taylor's right wrist to snap. The soldiers stumbled back, recovering from the block before they realized the noble was spent. The block had sent him crashing to the shining marble floors, eagle-spread over a pool of dark blood.