Breaking Point (open)

[Leigo]

Leigo took little heed of the stranger’s words. The only tickled desire for violence was a wish to strike the tourist back down. This was Zeltiva, not Sunberth – what of it? He didn’t need a foreigner to teach him the ways of his home. Resisting the urge, the blond turned around to watch after the man. He thought he could notice Fiera glancing at him as well, but ignored it. What was it she wanted anyway? Out in the street, a redhead was fighting with the usual suspects. They looked like ones who robbed the tourist, but nothing was certain yet. The newcomer wasn’t alone either. She had a weird looking axe like thing running around her as if trying to assist. A gadgeteer perhaps – he heard they were handy with things like that. Not that he ever met any of them personally. It would be interesting to get the opportunity though. Better than anyone Leigo knew he shouldn’t fight anytime soon. The wounds from the clash with his own batch of thieves still plagued Leigo, and while they didn’t incapacitate him fully they did make him slower. And slow people never fared well in combat. It was no better on the magical front either. Having overgiven slightly a couple days ago, he barely had enough djed in him to produce res which could fuel a single fireball – perhaps a one and a half? This is Zeltiva, not Sunberth – of course. Stepping beside the tourist who seemed to be getting ready for a fistfight, Leigo pulled the man by the shoulder as if to postpone the conflict at least. “There is four of us and only three of you.” He looked at them, hardened sailors no doubt “If you have your wits about you, you’ll run. Thieves die here.” Maybe threats, perhaps a promise – it made him remember his own predicament when one of the men fell to the ground, soulless.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock was ready for a good fight. She didn't much care if there were three of them; Choppy more than evened the odds, and the knives the men were pulling out couldn't hurt the metal machine. If this were Sunberth, she'd be spilling their blood in the streets by now. Unfortunately, a small crowd was gathering, keeping a safe distance but curious about what was going on. No hacked off limbs and spilled guts today, then. Witnesses or not, one of the men stepped forward, about to strike her. Tock grinned, bracing herself to deflect the blow, when hestepped up and interfered. Tock scowled... wasn't he supposed to be lying in the gutter still? Tock glared at Wren and spat right on his shoe. "Who done says I's fightin' fer you, bloke?" she asked. "'Sides, I ain't no dang Sunberthan..." she said, denying her heritage. "I's Zeltivan." Her past didn't matter. Where she was and who she was now was all that mattered. Then before she knew it the other two stepped up. "Five of us," Tock corrected the stranger who said it was four on three, flicking a finger at Choppy with a downward motion. The axe swung forward on the metal axle at his waist, a single, fierce thrust through the air demonstrating his strength. The thieves stepped back, gasping and staring at the device in terror. Bravado cast aside, this was no longer a simple act of picking on a helpless man. This was turning into an uneven fight with at least one mage, and who knew what the others were capable of.

[Wrenmae]

Outnumbered and set upon by magic, the Sunberthians were wary. They'd lost the money they'd gone through such an effort to take and now it seemed like the people of Zeltiva themselves had risen up and stood against them. In Sunberth this sort of behavior was unacceptable. Stick your neck out for a scrawny pretty body like Wrenmae? Stupid. Still, it was easier to retreat with ones life than it was to dash it to pieces against a fight they could not win. Crem nodded, already backing off, a scowl darkening his thick face. Shroud, entertained by this new turn of events, scarcely took a moment to stare at the spit on his shoe before locking eyes with Crem. A roiling wave of Djed spiked from his eyes into Crem's aura. How dare she. How dare they? That money was his, this petching whelp had issued him a challenge. Did he back down from women and her magic tricks? From a boy, a cripple, and some scrawny other girl peering around the alley? What was he? Boiling anger, embaressment, the notion he was being watched by his companions, the imagined chuckle from behind him. "Petch you an' petch your sodding magic!" He growled, "I'm not to be cowered by some whore and her toys!" Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a fishing knife, wickedly curved and built for the serrating of scales and flesh. His companions, taking direction from their leader, pulled weapons of their own. One held a mallet, small but thick, a single blow to the right place could certainly end a life in a moment. The other had a knife as well, but it was far more curved and rusty looking. As one, the men charged, each taking care to avoid the wheeling axe. Wrenmae was the first to fall back against the onslaught, taking an elbow to the sternum. He went down without complaint, rolling away from combat nimbly before struggling to his feet. This wasn't his battle, not right now. No, no...instead he pushed hypnotism out into his companions, igniting their flight or fight responses, pushing them towards combat, toward the smell of blood and the need for self preservation. All subtle emotional rises, nothing significant. No...no...nothing significant. He was saving the brunt of his Djed for the end. After all, one good turn deserves another. It was the Sunberthian way.

[Fiera]

Watching from behind the injured stranger, Fiera managed to look both confused and disgusted at the same time. Her – she retched at the word – comrades were striking at the wounded pride of the three sailors in a way that suggested they actually wanted a brawl. Who was this stranger anyway? Fiera wasn’t going to risk her life for him. True, they outnumbered the trio, but that didn’t guarantee their win. Couldn’t she dispatch a few lambs at the same time? Fiera closed her eyes in frustration and let her hand drop down to her hip. Nothing. No sword. No weapon. Fiera was beginning to feel highly uncomfortable. The chances of evading a fight with the sailors were very low. But no, one was starting back up, retreating, saving his hide. Maybe she wasn’t surrounded by idiots after all. Pride makes men stupid, she thought, watching the same man step back into place and draw his weapon. This wasn’t her fight. It wasn’t necessary. It was just a clash of morals. Fiera did not fight for what was right or wrong; she fought for her life. Stepping hurriedly back onto the side street in hopes of escaping the fight unnoticed, Fiera felt her foot connect with something on the ground. It was a nice, solid branch about three feet long. She had to laugh at the irony; it was as if the very gods were encouraging her to join the brawl. Leigo, she thought, he saved my life, maybe I can pay him back now and shed this debt forever. The thought brought a wave of relief. Picking up the piece of wood, Fiera weighed it in her hand, and then put it back down. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – fight with a branch. Each piece of her clothing dropped to the floor and Fiera moved toward the fight again, naked. Humans were often shocked by such displays, though she could never understand why. She’d long pondered how to use this to her advantage. In the moments before she shifted, Fiera hoped to distract the sailors, giving her companions a little time to get past their defences, thus ending the fight quicker. It she was going to fight, Fiera felt more comfortable in her animal form. There one moment, gone the next. In her place, a dappled cougar sat. Slipping around the outskirts of the fight, Fiera unsheathed her claws and sat back on her haunches, waiting for when her help would be needed – preferably, never.

[Leigo]

The three sailors would heed his voice it would seem. Perhaps that wasn’t it, but he thought them smart enough to count to four… five. He could feel his thoughts correcting on their own and he looked back at the strange redhead, smiling faintly. Next thing he saw upon turning around however was those very same three idiots ready for a fight all over again. When did everything change? Why did it change? As if by magic, those three criminals were once again fit for battle. This put him in an uncomfortable position. They didn’t know about his current weaknesses, but he did, and that left him at a severe disadvantage. The one, who seemed to speak for the sailors quickly got rowdy, exclaimed something he couldn’t make out and started charging with his company of two. In a mute understanding with Onuo, Leigo charged straight into the one holding a mallet. Knocking the man down easily enough, he wondered just what was it that made the sailor so momentarily distracted. Still worried, he quickly dug his teeth into the man’s mallet arm in hopes of getting him to drop the weapon. Had he known about Fiera’s earlier flash that had gotten him this advantage, he would’ve been grateful, but completely unaware, the only thing he could do was try and keep this man down for as long as possible as a strange gassy green substance rushed itself out of his mouth. He would dispose of this man, and he would do so in a matter that no one could witness. Holding his left hand out of the fight, Leigo used his right to hold down the man’s free hand. What was wrong with people these days? This was Zeltiva, not Sunberth. When did things get so bad? They made him angry, all of them made him so angry.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock wasn't bluffing when she brought Choppy forward. Had there been no witnesses, had this been happening in a secluded alley or something, she would have gladly ordered her baby to chop one of these men to pieces. But she couldn't risk that. Someone might try to take Choppy away if it became known how truly lethal he could be. Most people in the city didn't understand Animation, but there were professors at the University who did. They had tried to teach her of the importance of adding Directives of nonviolence, and she hadn't listened. After all, a girl needed to be able to brutally murder someone now and then. But between the three other people on her side of the fight, and the worried crowd forming on the docks, ruthless murder just wasn't an option. Fine. She'd do this the hard way. Of course, then there was suddenly a naked girl on the docks. Tock was briefly just as distracted as the men were, partially in confusion about why the girl had suddenly stripped her clothes off, and partially... in mild arousal, which only confused her further. Then the girl suddenly shifted forms, and the first part of Tock's confusion was cleared up, while the second only became stronger. Kelvic, she thought, having met one before last spring. She was quite curious about the Kelvic race in general, and her interest in this stranger was magnified a great deal. But then, she realized there was still a fight going on. As the man to her right suddenly bit one of them (was he a Kelvic too?), she turned back to the leader with the curved knife. He, too, had been distracted, until he met her eyes now. Then he growled and raised his weapon once more, and Tock raised Grippy. Confused by the boiling emotions in her, and clueless that at least some of them had a supernatural source, Tock growled and thrust Grippy out to snatch the fishing knife from the man's hand. Then, in the brief confused moment he had wherein he was still trying to retrieve his lost knife, she swung her other hand and connected a fist to the side of his head. It only took him a moment to give up on the knife and raise his fists to a boxing stance, but in that brief moment she managed to quickly land a second jab. Grippy held the knife in a way that she could easily use it to stab the man. But... there were witnesses. She had to remember that.

[Wrenmae]

Chaos and pandemonium, the earmarks of a varied story. When settled, witnesses will remark with a wide variety of tales. Some truer than others, and most fantastic to the point of myth. From his terrestrial vantage point, Shroud watched the chaos with a little more than casual glee. Here, his opponents had beaten him to near death and now strangers and enemies rose in place to help him. The barest hints of manipulation had prompted his impromptu revenge and the most delightful part was that Tock, the identity confused Sunberthian, had stepped in on his behalf regardless of their past entanglements. Delightful. When she stepped forward to deal with her opponent, Shroud slipped a hand forward and retrieved his coin pouch, tucking it into his shirt. No doubt they'd ask for money, predictable. A favor would be held on too little faith. Just who was the man they found themselves fighting for? Was he in a position to hold up his end? Certainly he hadn't handled these sailors well. Leveling himself up, the murderer winced before taking his feet, catching the naked Fiera at the corner of his eye before a flash of light revealed a much more interesting nature. Not a morpher, never so quickly, even with a model. No, she was like Roka, like Lusa, a Kelvic. He was familiar with them from Sunberth, having an unexpectedly prolific rank of them in his old gang. Still, their changes never ceased to amaze him. What were they? What led to their condition? They all seemed more animalistic than human, but was that the nature of the change or the nature they were created with? Questions, questions, questions. A library awaited his perusal near the University, and so these inquiries could be addressed another time. Instead it was the battle he was most interested in. The boy who had stopped to help him was biting into the arm of one of the sailors. An interesting attack, certainly, but the fellow he was on was hardened by sea waves and sun, a little biting wouldn't long deter him. It was Tock, at least presently (As the cougar hadn't entered the fray) that held her own the best. The ringleader had lost a blade and boxed at the girl with underhanded Sunberthian tactics. She, ever the scrapper, took hits as she dealt them, less nimble than savage and resourceful. My, my, what a dervish. From his position, subtle emotional manipulation was child's play. Rage and fear, his two favorite strings to pluck, sent a resonance of those emotions into the heads of the combatants, spurring on their desperate brawl. No need for anything more drastic, he was hardly the target now. The third sailor reached down over Leigo, gripping his shirt with two calloused hands and hauling him off of his friend. The youth struggled, flailed even, leaving bloody tooth marks where his jaws had been. "Bit me! 'E bloody bit me!" Shouted the prone sailor, reaching for his mallet, "I'll crush his petchin skull!" Perfect. Purely...perfect. And they said that Zeltiva was peerless to Sunberth. Dust away the veneer of paint and marble, and there was the same jagged, worthless stone as everywhere else. Humanity was humanity, no matter which way you dressed them. Just took a little prompting to get the pompous asses to bare their fangs.

[Fiera]

There were three sailors against two Zeltivians. Standing beside the fray, watching carefully, was the shroud. Anger boiled up within her. They were fighting for him, at his direction, and he didn’t even have the decency to help them. Fiera didn’t like the look of him. There was something wrong with the way he talked, the way he stood. No, she did not like him at all. Now that she had shifted, the sailors forgot about her, having prioritized naked women above brawling and animals below it. Fiera cringed at their lewdness. The redhead was doing fairly well, having stolen the knife of her adversary. Leigo wasn’t. She realised this with a bit of a shock. He’d been relatively successful until a second man came to pull him off his friend. Rising, Fiera hissed in anger. Had they no decency at all? An angry Fiera was always frightening, especially so in animal form. She was small for a cougar, hadn’t the stature of most of her race, but she was quick. She was quick and smart, and would act without any remorse. And all that could be seen in her eyes. If they hurt Leigo, she would hurt them. Pausing to reflect on that thought, Fiera cringed. Even if he had saved her life, where had this devotion come from? She wasn’t going to bond to anybody. She didn’t need anybody but herself. Yet a little part of her knew that wasn’t true. This is just like hunting, Fiera thought, aware she had never been in such a brawl, except your prey has claws too. Pouncing at the thicker sailor, the one who had been bitten, Fiera raked her claws against his arm. Four jagged, red lines swelled against his weather beaten skin but it wasn’t enough to properly hurt him. It she wanted him out of action, Fiera would have to damage his neck. In surprise and anger, the mallet-armoured man cried out, swinging his weapon wildly. Avoiding it as easily as she did the hooves of a deer, Fiera reared up and bit him in the calf, finding his skin harder to bite through than a cow’s. Annoyed at his incessant twisting, she pulled back her head. Blood filled her mouth and her teeth easily sliced through the flesh. The mallet threw her off, hitting her side with a muffled thump. The air rushed out of her lungs and failed to return for much too long. Black clouds obscured her vision. He would surely finish her off now, while she couldn’t see him. Fiera staggered back, helpless, her head spinning. Footsteps approached her, and she cringed away from them batting at the air in front of her, hopping her vision would return in time.

[Leigo]

Teeth almost leaving their sockets, Leigo could hear himself cursing and mumbling to the one who pulled him away. Twitching in attempts to shake off the man, he was nowhere near strong or heavy enough to pull back towards the original target. When the bitten sailor exclaimed just how much he wanted to hurt the boy, blond’s eyes widened in expectation. What little res he could literally drool onto his target wasn’t the easiest thing to control while preoccupied with coping against the grip of yet another sailor. Yes, he could’ve probably burned the man’s arm at this distance, but he was going for something more vital. Neck, eyes and the airways were his personal favorites. Had the man really charged forth it would’ve been easy to hit just about anything; an eye even. This never came to pass however. Out of the blue a huge cat of some sort tackled the ‘situation’. Instead of getting to strike the sailor at the closest possible range, Leigo would have to settle with igniting the man’s clothes. Having the res thrown off already, boy moved it slowly back to the sailor. As soon as it reached the man’s garments, they would move up in flames, res igniting momentarily and completely. None of this could happen before the man got a smack right onto the cat’s side. Only then would Leigo feel the man behind him clasping the grip even harder. Unsure if this idiot was trying to hide behind him or break his arms off, boy took to stomping the ground hard. Being somewhat shorter than him, the sailor couldn’t contain him very well and soon Leigo would hit a foot, dispelling the awful grip. What he didn’t’ expect to happen however was the back of his head colliding with the idiot’s nose. As Leigo knelt down, hand holding back the brains that felt like they wished to spill out, he couldn’t even see the other man going through a similar thing with his now bloodied nose. Where was that tourist anyway? Why wasn’t he helping?

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Amidst dealing with her opponent, Tock spotted Wren snatching his precious coin purse back and moving out of range of the battle. Anger swelled inside her, both due to his visible actions and the invisible threads of rage he was pumping into her. "YA BLOOMIN' COWARD!!" she screamed at him. She didn't care about helping him, nor did she give a damn what happened to the money. It wasn't hers, and she didn't want a damn copper from that man. But she was pissed off at the way he was scrambling away from the fight like some kind of chicken while other people fought for him. Petch this... she wasn't going to leave it like that! Tock covered her face protectively with her left arm as the thug leader started pummeling her. She held her right arm with Grippy down and back. Her right hand was still sore from the break earlier in the season. She couldn't risk aggravating it by using that hand to fight. Snatching the dagger with Grippy was one thing, but if she fought and bruised her hand up more, it would hurt her ability to do her job. So after taking a few hits to her left shoulder and forearm, she screamed in fury, wrapped her left arm around the thug's neck, and started kneeing him in the stomach. On the second strike he managed to grab her knee and shove her back. She stumbled and nearly fell, backpedaling to keep her balance. Taking advantage of her clumsy footing, the man rushed her. Having just recovered from a string of injuries early in the season, which had left her bed bound a few days, and riding her crutches for a good week, Tock wasn't willing to get hurt over Wren. Picking a fight with these bullies was one thing, but actually getting injured over it was something else entirely. So before the thug closed the short distance she had stumbled back, Tock shouted, "Swing up!" Had she said 'Chop,' Choppy would have swung his blade for the man in front of him and likely killed him. Instead, this command made him swing backhanded, the blunt back side of the axe grazing the thug in a clumsy bludgeon. It also ended with the axe held high in the air, ready to come down any moment. The thug stumbled when he was struck, then screamed, expecting the axe was about to come down on his head. He ducked and twisted, trying to avoid the axe swing, though Tock didn't give the command to kill. Instead, she released the knife from Grippy's claw with a quick flick of her thumb across his handle. Then she aimed the tool at the man's belt, holding Grippy with both hands. She braced with her left hand, using it to handle the majority of the weight, and just used her right fingers to brush the handle in the patterns that dictated Grippy's actions. A touch of her forefinger pulled Grippy inwards, the gears spinning to coil the chain and pull the arm in to retract. Then she turned and swung, hurling the man sideways and brushing her thumb on the back of the handle to release the claw. The thug went tumbling right at Wren, so the damn coward would be forced to face down his own foes. Tock didn't respect weakness. When it was three on one, and the bullies had been beating him down mercilessly, that was one thing. He couldn't have been expected to defend himself against that onslaught single-handedly. But if he wouldn't at least raise a hand to defend himself against one unarmed and stumbling, off-balance assailant, then Tock would leave him to his fate. Enraged himself and dealing with foes on all sides now, the thug tried to keep his footing and swung a wild punch towards Wren's head.