H B ɪsʜᴀᴍᴏɴᴛᴇɴ I C (
accoutered) wrote in
pawnstorm2016-06-11 06:37 pm
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Who: bishamonten and anyone who may also be training or would like to watch a former goddess Struggle
When: 06/11
Where: hall of glory courtyard
What: bishamon is trying to learn how to fight again in her new, fragile human body... and figure out wth is up with her weapon in the process. #thestruggleisreal #whatismana #dontskiplegday
Rating: potential for some violence, but otherwise should be alright!
(1) THE BORING KIND OF CARDIO »
[ anyone around the courtyard on this early morning may find themselves having to share the space with an overzealous hero in training... or someone with some serious anger management problems. (or both.)
situated to one side of the courtyard, on lush green grass and right beneath the shade of a large tree is bishamon, currently making full use of the wooden training dummy the keepers of the hall of glory had been kind enough to supply her. from the amount of sweat she's managed to work up (not to mention a good number of bruises already beginning to form along her hands, arms, and legs, and the blood caking along her knuckles) it's clear she's been at this for quite a while... and rather vigorously, too.
the style itself is not easily identifiable, less technique and more raw energy and skill. she strikes fast and hard and with no fear, as if completely unaware of her own limits (or, perhaps, unused to having them), but every now and then she will land a blow that has her flinching back in shock and pain. every time it happens she grits her teeth and seems to make a mental note, before striking the exact same spot with the exact same blow, again and again and again, until finally she does not flinch back in pain anymore.
it's a shame about that uniform, really. she had originally found the skirt impractical, but found it useful now in granting her more movement in the legs. the top, sadly, she had to be more creative with — needing the freedom of her arms, but not wanting to appear too indecent (some people come out there to eat, after all) she had to contend with simply unbutton the first couple of buttons and tying the sleeves around her chest like a wrap. unfortunately, not even these measures could withstand the brunt of all of her movements. of course, by the time she realizes the strain she's putting on the clothing, it's a little too late...
which is why, if you hadn't already approached her before this, she will stop you as you pass by, getting your attention with the wave of one (somewhat bloody) hand. ]
Excuse me — would you happen to know if there's a tailor around here?
(2) BANG BANG ALL OVER YOU »
[ is it just bishamon, or do those stuffed bears do unnervingly smug?
it's gotta be the eyebrows, or maybe it's the stitching along the muzzle. whatever the reason, bishamon decides she doesn't like them, and so doesn't feel even the slightest bit of guilt when she raises her weapon in the air, takes aim, and pulls—
and pulls.
and pulls and pulls and pulls and pulls and pullsandpullsandpULLSand ]
This is stupid!
[ WHY WOULD ANYONE ARM SOMEONE WITH A GUN THAT HAS NO BULLETS???
with a frustrated growl, bishamon chucks the offending weapon towards the bear to the farthest right, its blade embedding right in between its beady little eyes. ]
(3) HAKUNA MANA-TA »
[ or maybe you'll find her sitting by the canal that runs through the center of the courtyard, perched precariously close to the edge along one of the stone ledges that line it. she seems to be two seconds away from falling into the canal herself, what with how much she is leaning over it, but her full attention is drawn to the water itself, rather than her proximity to it.
anyone looking over will notice how intensely she is staring at the water's surface, her brows drawn together and lips pursed in an expression of utmost concentration. slowly, she raises a hand and after a moment of steeling herself, she gives her index finger a quick flick.
there is some slight lag time, but before long, even just the casual observer will notice a large droplet of water pop itself out from the water's surface and crash right into — well. probably your cheek. bishamon sits up suddenly, eyes wide with a look of utter shock and pride. sorry, innocent bystander, she'll feel bad about that in two seconds, just let her finish her mental victory dance.
SHE DID IT, SHE MAGICKED.
]
When: 06/11
Where: hall of glory courtyard
What: bishamon is trying to learn how to fight again in her new, fragile human body... and figure out wth is up with her weapon in the process. #thestruggleisreal #whatismana #dontskiplegday
Rating: potential for some violence, but otherwise should be alright!
(1) THE BORING KIND OF CARDIO »
situated to one side of the courtyard, on lush green grass and right beneath the shade of a large tree is bishamon, currently making full use of the wooden training dummy the keepers of the hall of glory had been kind enough to supply her. from the amount of sweat she's managed to work up (not to mention a good number of bruises already beginning to form along her hands, arms, and legs, and the blood caking along her knuckles) it's clear she's been at this for quite a while... and rather vigorously, too.
the style itself is not easily identifiable, less technique and more raw energy and skill. she strikes fast and hard and with no fear, as if completely unaware of her own limits (or, perhaps, unused to having them), but every now and then she will land a blow that has her flinching back in shock and pain. every time it happens she grits her teeth and seems to make a mental note, before striking the exact same spot with the exact same blow, again and again and again, until finally she does not flinch back in pain anymore.
it's a shame about that uniform, really. she had originally found the skirt impractical, but found it useful now in granting her more movement in the legs. the top, sadly, she had to be more creative with — needing the freedom of her arms, but not wanting to appear too indecent (some people come out there to eat, after all) she had to contend with simply unbutton the first couple of buttons and tying the sleeves around her chest like a wrap. unfortunately, not even these measures could withstand the brunt of all of her movements. of course, by the time she realizes the strain she's putting on the clothing, it's a little too late...
which is why, if you hadn't already approached her before this, she will stop you as you pass by, getting your attention with the wave of one (somewhat bloody) hand. ]
Excuse me — would you happen to know if there's a tailor around here?
(2) BANG BANG ALL OVER YOU »
it's gotta be the eyebrows, or maybe it's the stitching along the muzzle. whatever the reason, bishamon decides she doesn't like them, and so doesn't feel even the slightest bit of guilt when she raises her weapon in the air, takes aim, and pulls—
and pulls.
and pulls and pulls and pulls and pulls and pullsandpullsandpULLSand ]
This is stupid!
[ WHY WOULD ANYONE ARM SOMEONE WITH A GUN THAT HAS NO BULLETS???
with a frustrated growl, bishamon chucks the offending weapon towards the bear to the farthest right, its blade embedding right in between its beady little eyes. ]
(3) HAKUNA MANA-TA »
anyone looking over will notice how intensely she is staring at the water's surface, her brows drawn together and lips pursed in an expression of utmost concentration. slowly, she raises a hand and after a moment of steeling herself, she gives her index finger a quick flick.
there is some slight lag time, but before long, even just the casual observer will notice a large droplet of water pop itself out from the water's surface and crash right into — well. probably your cheek. bishamon sits up suddenly, eyes wide with a look of utter shock and pride. sorry, innocent bystander, she'll feel bad about that in two seconds, just let her finish her mental victory dance.
SHE DID IT, SHE MAGICKED.

no subject
This is a training ground, and if you won't do it right while training, how could you possibly do it in battle?
[ He's judging you, lady, and he's not sure he buys that explanation fully himself. "Feasible" would be just shooting the damn gun. Unfortunately, he wasn't around to watch her fail to fire it. ]
no subject
still, she is careful not to instigate any more squabbles, least of all among her supposed comrades... though that doesn't make her words any less sharp, or her stare any less narrow.
one thing to note about bishamonten, actual goddess of war? she is always in battle. ]
Sharpen only the tip, and you'll never make full use of the blade, [ she responds, as if she were recanting an age-old proverb.
she arches a brow at him though, leaning back on a heel that seems to invite him to step closer, into the circle of her training area. ]
Do you mean to teach me something?
no subject
Is that so? You'll have to show me how sharp that blade of yours is, then. [ He draws his own magic weapon: A wooden sword, far longer than it really has any right to be, practically just a pole if not for the carved edge and slight curvature. ]
You can call me Assassin, or Sasaki Kojirou. [ He steps towards Bishamon, the Laundry Pole resting on his shoulder. ]
no subject
it would probably help his case not to proclaim the name of his weapon out loud. ]
Well met, Kojirou.
[ in contrast, bishamon's own blade is a mere fourth or fifth of the length of the assassin's, but what it lacks in length it at least makes up for in actual sharpness. though bishamon is no fool to think that the wooden sword is as harmless as it seems; she's been here long enough to know, after all, not to trust the abilities of this so-called mana.
she rests masa on her shoulder as well, further familiarizing herself with the weight of it. despite the foreignness of the weapon, she still stands by her words: if it is a fight to be had, she will make use of whatever is in her arsenal. ]
I am Bishamonten.
no subject
That's quite a name to live up to. In fact, some might call it heresy.
[ Kojirou himself was a believer in the gods, of course. How could he not be, growing up in the lower castes of feudal Japan? But just because he believed, doesn't mean he's going to be afraid of anyone bearing their name. In fact, quite the opposite.
It's been said his swordplay intruded onto the realm of the gods. Perhaps it's time for him to put that to the test. ]
Your blade will tell me all I need to know. Come.
no subject
it was not a feeling she enjoyed.
but when he challenges her, she feels a flare of something hot in the pit of her stomach: not ire, nor intimidation, but something almost feral. something much more basic and... familiar.
she smirks. there are few things more foolish than challenging a god of war in battle. (she should know. she's done most of them.) ]
Do not expect benevolence, [ is all the warning he gets before she suddenly charges, coming at him with a speed and strength that is downright laughable to what she once possessed, but among humans it is still something worthy of noting. the gun-blade that she wields might not be something she's familiar with, nor is this body one she is yet used to, but she comes at him with the gall of someone who has never really known much about fear of personal injury.
she decides to attack him head-on, to see coax him into showing her what he is fully capable of. ]
no subject
So it's unfortunate that here he's a Knight, and she's a Pawn, so even though he's fighting an actual god of war, he's not the underdog in this fight at all. He's stronger, he's faster, and he actually knows how to use his own weapon. ]
It'll be a long time before I need benevolence from you. [ The wooden sword moves in a clean arc, parrying Bishamon's attack with ease. The weapons bounce off each other, but that's hardly the end of the fight: Mana runs through the Laundry Pole, and a spike sprouts from Kojirou's weapon. A wooden branch from a wooden sword, nothing special at all, but it approaches from an impossible angle, a threat headed right for his opponent's neck despite him pulling the main body of his sword away.
She wants to see his full capability. This is what it looks like. ]
no subject
she feels sluggish and dull, despite still being rather agile. when their weapons clash, she makes note of the way it feels in her hand, and adjusts her grip accordingly so as to lessen the risk of having it knocked out of her hand. the force of the blow itself has her jumping back a distance, but her feet barely have time to touch ground again before a branch shoots out of the sword and aims right for her. she's able to parry it away with a fling of her hand, but the action is clumsy and she stumbles a bit. her teeth grit, eyeing the new branch with intensity and analysis.
back home, she has fought with (and against) a variety of weapons. they were unique in their own right, bearing the souls and spirits of the shinki whom which they manifested from. but though the weapons themselves were divine, they were not necessarily magical like the weapons here are proving, requiring something else from bishamon entirely.
a fight, then, was a partnership between the weilder and the weapon, master and servant, god and shinki. here, she is alone, and must communicate with her weapon in other ways. ways like kojirou is. she takes note of the way the branch moves, as if it had a mind of its own... and surmises that it must be kojirou himself controlling it. that pesky mana...
teeth grit, bishamon adjusts her hold on her weapon once more. and this time, when the branch comes for her, she reacts with a downward arc of her gun-blade, intending to chop the thing off entirely. ]
no subject
Kojirou is however, not too bothered. He has a magic weapon so he'll use it to its utmost, but he's more than happy to use nothing but the sword in his hand if it comes down to it, and if she's busy chopping away at branches, Bishamon will have less time to deal with the sword sweeping in towards her neck.
It's a long weapon. Longer than Masa, even longer than Bishamon is tall. He has plenty of range range to strike her with, and that allows Kojirou to be relentless in his offence, knowing that she's unlikely to be able to get close to her own range without Kojirou having plenty of time to respond. In many ways, it's the worst possible situation for her, beaten in strength, speed, range, and skills.
What's left for the goddess then? Kojirou would love to find out. ]
no subject
the impact itself rattles her mind considerably, but she is able to think quickly enough to take advantage of the weapon's proximity. it doesn't take much effort to twist that hand and grab hold of the pole, and with a mighty tug she exerts enough strength to force the end of the weapon down to the ground, stabbing it onto the earth at an angle.
what's left for a goddess, kojirou, when she's beat in strength, speed, range, and skills?
why, hop on top of the wood and run across it, of course. that'll at least help her manage that lack of range. this time, she'll aim right for his head. ]
no subject
A constant price he has to pay for having a versatile weapon.
But he's not done just yet! A little more mana, and the Laundry Pole shifts beneaths Bishamon's feet, branches bursting out like spikes at her feet. Nothing that would kill her, but they would hopefully persuade her to get off his weapon. Even that would not be enough to fully protect him however, not when the tip of his blade is stuck in the dirt and his opponent is already inside its range.
So he releases the Laundry Pole, and resorts to his bare fists. But bare fists are still dangerous weapons, especially those of a promoted Knight. A banner made of mana sprouts behind Kojirou, the power of a Stormy Knight filling his body, drawing power from the elements around him. Earth-element mana surrounds his hands and arms, glowing softly and encasing them with stone-like hardness.
Hardness that would be more than enough to block an incoming gunblade. ]
no subject
when the thorn-like branches spike up at her feet, she has no choice but to take to the air. thankfully, the momentum of her run has granted her enough distance that when she jumps, she is able to launch herself right towards him, her intended target anyway. she swings her weapon up just as he releases his own, and lifts his arms up to block—
an otherwise dangerous gesture had he not done what he'd done, for in a battle between blade and bone, blade will always win. but in the split-second it takes for her weapon to arch down, she can see it — just barely, of course, because she is still not trained enough to truly know what to look for, but she can sense it — the banner behind ihm, the shift in the setting around them, the faint glow of his arms and fists, the utmost confidence he has in the fact that this block of his will counter.
she knows it won't work even as her weapon bears down upon him, and its with a low growl and gritted teeth that she feels the reverberation of resistance quake along her arms, reaching her spine. the impact is enough to send her flying back, but she lands deftly, using the sharpest end of her blade along the ground to slow her progress as she skids back. slowly she straightens up and gives her arms a quick shake, trying to shake off the tingly feeling they've been left with. ]
Cute trick.
no subject
I'm not quite your match in spirit, so I'll have to beat that with my wits.
[ He's just here to have fun, really, and to help his fellow heroes, but that comes second. He has nothing to prove, no anger, and no frustration he needs to take out, and so lacks that desperate, aggressive edge that brings so many fighters above and beyond their usual limits. What he does have, is a keen eye for battle, one that borders on a sixth sense that always leads him towards a path to victory. That will have to do. ]
Besides, was it not you who said that we have to use our weapons in every way possible?
no subject
That was me, yes, [ she admits, starting to move again. this time she goes slow, a careful dance as she begins to circle around him. he is a fighter, and a gifted one at that — that much she can tell from the moment he raised his weapon at her. she is certain he will match her pace and not let down his guard. she'd not have it any other way. ]
But your mistake is thinking your wits would be any better than mine.
no subject
Are they not? I've yet to see it myself. [ He's practically taunting Bishamon now, his confidence not wavering in the slightest as he follows her movement. Never mind that his sword is stuck in the ground, leaving him practically unarmed. Never mind that she's already more than shown her quick wit and courage in disarming him in the first place. He's hardly bothered. ]
So why don't you show me? [ Kojirou raises a hand, pointing it right at Bishamon, the glow of mana still visible. A few words muttered under his breath later, a bolt of magic is sent right at his opponent. It's nothing terribly impressive, the lowest tier of offensive magic available to the heroes here, and yet it's still magic, more than enough to show that even when visibly unarmed, he's still dangerous. ]
no subject
though, in truth, she had not been expecting the sludge of mud that suddenly gets sent her way, but it is certainly far better than anything else she had been expecting. it hadn't hurt, for one thing, though it is an incredible annoyance. she lowers her raised arm with a look of distaste. mud now clings to her skin and clothing, and it takes a couple of shakes to get most of it off of her arm. ]
Don't blink.
[ she'll have to thank him for the idea, though. it doesn't take her more than three long strides to charge right up to him, making it easy enough for her to carry that lump of mud that had fallen over her foot. with a swift arch of her leg, she's flinging the wet earth right up towards his eyes, intending to blind him. but whether or not that actually meets its target is unimportant to her — it is yet another distraction, as she dips low within a foot of him, jabbing at his midsection with the butt of her gun's grip, hoping to knock the wind out of him. ]
no subject
At least, that's what he would like his opponent to think. Of course, in a perfect world, he wouldn't have had to abandon his weapon, and if he were slightly less cocky, he should have went to retrieve the Laundry Pole immediately upon losing it. He would have to give Bishamon credit for pushing him this far. But he is not quite unarmed yet. ]
Worry not, I won't take my eyes off you.
[ His right arm moves up to block the incoming mud, catching it with the sleeve of his jacket and keeping it out of his eyes. His left arm on the other hand, moves to intercept the actual attack. Is he going to grab it with his bare hand? He might be able to, given his statistical advantage as a Knight, but his pride won't allow it. This is supposed to be a battle of skills and wits, is it not?
No, instead a hook launches out from beneath his sleeve, a chain unraveling behind it, the wicked curved length of sharp metal hurtling right at Bishamon's neck.
Promoted classes carry two weapons. ]
no subject
she sees it coming, of course (though, distantly, she knows if she had kazuma with her, she would have seen it seconds faster), but again this human body fails her. despite noticing the appearance of the second weapon, there is little she can do to account for it but reach up with her free hand, grasping the cold chain just as the hook catches itself around the delicate skin of her neck, drawing blood.
she grunts sharply, anticipating the pull from the weapon before the mana instructs it, and down she goes, forced on her knees and dragged close by the magic. her bare knees scrape against the ground, drawing more blood, but she merely grits her teeth against the pain
and silently thank him for making this so much easier for her.
because now there is no obstacle of distance, and now both his hands are occupied. with a grin that he might not see thanks to their sudden proximity, bishamon releases both her weapon and his so that she might be able to hold unto her arms when she wraps them around his waist. she digs the balls of her feet into the earth and with a mighty heave she throws her body backwards — taking him with her, headfirst. ]
no subject
But there's no denying it works. Being willing to take a hit to close the distance between them completely, and strike while his hands are occupied. It's a clever, gutsy tactic, and Kojirou will just have to take his bumps.
He tucks his neck in as he lands so he doesn't take the full weight of the blow right to his head and neck, spreading some of the impact to his shoulders. He's never actually wrestled like this, but falling correctly is just another part of fighting, and fighting comes instinctively to the samurai. Ukemi, as it were. ]
Ah, how impressive. If the ground here had been harder, I would have taken serious damage. Perhaps Bishamonten isn't a wasted name on you after all.
[ One suplex, despite being quite the feat, isn't going to take anyone out completely without some serious strength behind the toss. Still, Kojirou has to praise Bishamon. He's always prided himself on his defense, after all, and yet he's the one on the ground. ]
Do you want to end things here, or would you like to keep going until we prove which of us is superior?
[ He's up to his hands and knees by now, wiping some dirt from his face with the cleaner of his sleeves. Continuing to fight is, of course, an option, but he's going to offer her a way out while keeping some pride first, if only because he doesn't want to scare her off completely. ]