◀ ᴀ ᴛᴜʀɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ

[Remington Rothfelder]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Remington Rothfelder>: The challenge had been issued. The terms were simple enough, the two of them would meet at the same location, and from there, they would tally up their scores using a simple numbering system. There were no points, no complicated tracking system. You see, they were going to count the number of kills that each of them managed. Specifically, they were going after Hunter Footsoldiers, the variety found in the sewers that loved to jump out at people in passing, sink some bullets into them. In truth, Remington considered it something of a public service. Not only were the hunter creatures a danger to the secrecy of the vampiric community based solely on their existence, but they were a continuing pestilence. For example, if a vampire newer to the blood were to find themselves in the sewer system being attacked. Well. Going to feed whilst wounded was bound to draw some unwarranted attention.


Every little bit, as the saying went. The man had his machete strapped to his back as he stood just beneath a manhole, his rifle in hand as he waited for Jonah to show.


<Jonah Vedarian>: He had had to make a quick stop by the farm to make sure that everything was in order. Normally he spent his evenings at either business or in the mines but the chance hunt the paladins couldn't be passed up. Especially since there was a friendly challenge along with it. His heavy sword was strapped to his back and the pistol was holstered at his side when he dropped in to the sewers and looked around for Remi. He was huge and pale and his features were distorted as they always were when he hunted.


<Remington Rothfelder>: The two of them cut quite the imposing silhouette as a duo, though where Jonah's figure could have been described as monstrous, Remington was simply well built - a testament to work he had put into his body in life; the physical manifestation of his own selfish inclinations. The shadow heard the approach of the other man, and turned to face him. Words did not need to be spoken, because the dank waterways teemed with dangerous life. Remington's only true advantage was in his base nature, that of falling silence and tangible darkness. The only greeting he offered was the nod of his head, but that was his manner when he was at 'work'. He then slid right past Jonah so that he could begin to stalk down the narrow passage.


<Jonah Vedarian>: Assuming the movement meant the "game" had started, Jonah followed closely behind Remi until they came to the first passeageway that forced them to turn either right or left. Without any real reason, he went left and pulled the gun out while his claws grew even longer and drug the ground, leaving scars in the cement. Around the corner, he could hear the boot steps echoing from one of the younger members of the paladin order. They were not as martial as their elder counterparts but more than made up for it with their high powered weaponry. Jonah's gun was actually a modified version of theirs. So it was with some irony that he levelled it at the man and killed him just as he began to yell for reinforcements.


<Remington Rothfelder>: He was secretly pleased the hunter was able to get off the first call for help; meant that he and Jonah would not be forced to expend extra effort in searching for their enemy. More than that, Remington was a...well he was a very controlled man. He had one of those checkered pasts referenced on reality television, programs about prison inmates. He'd been ordered, when he was younger, to take anger management classes. Most would not have known that of the man in his modern incarnation, but the reason he had gone into martial arts as a career involved the need for discipline. An outlet for the loathing that burned inside of him. He ended up pulling the oversized sword from his back, holstering the firearm in its place so that when the first of a wave arrived, he could step into the man's defenses before a gun could even come up. He lashed out with one firm swing that slammed into a shoulder. At first it looked as if it had just jarred him. Until one realized his blade was half buried in a chest and an arm was hanging by clothing and gristle. He fell dead seconds later. "One."


<Jonah Vedarian>: Jonah smiled as the horde of human began to trickle towards them. While Remi took the first one easily and up close, Jonah hung back for the moment, firing in to them as best he could. Most took the shots in their body armor, stunning them for a moment, but then they were on him and he lashed out with his sword. It was massive and made for cleaving and the gun arm of one was soon flying through the air. "2," he grunted out.

[Jonah]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Remington Rothfelder>: Remington had to move quickly, because the footsoldiers attempted to hang back when they realized he was armed with a sword, likely of the thought that they might dispatch him by firing en masse. The strategy would have worked if they had any form of cover to duck behind so they could take aim. As it was, most of those he approached seemed to just want to squeeze off a few rounds in his general direction. But that was the idea. Rush them so they had no chance to try anything smart. The next he foun, he slammed his solid frame into. The man staggered back a step, right into another of the hunters so that when Remington gripped the barrel of one of their rifles, he could rip it off and then begin to quite literally beat them with it. He swung with enough force to crack bone. One of the two fell a second later with a caved in skull. The next was more resilient, taking a blow to the leg. He knelt, and had enough fortitude to pull a pistol. Pain blossomed in Remi's shoulder as a bullet ripped through it, but that only served to feed the beast. The hunter's head rolled with the strike of a machete. "Three."


<Jonah Vedarian>: Bullets and swords tore in to him, shredding his shirt and adding to the numerous scars that he had collected over his few years in Harper Rock. It was rare that Jonah let the darkness ride so close to the surface but it was thrilling. Two of the hunter's had the idea to work together and tried to rush him but he surprised them by jumping forward, meeting them. His sword severed one's head completely and was stopped only by the spinal cord of the other. "Four and five."


<Remington Rothfelder>: The wound to his shoulder would eventually heal and scar over, permanently marring what had once been perfectly smooth flesh stretched over hard muscle, but that was a distant thought. Remington was about to move onto his next target when he heard shouting. He couldn't make out what the voices were saying at first, but when he mistepped, he suddenly realized. The hunters had been corraling him in a particular direction. He had come into contact with banishment tiles before, and it was very simillar to that, but rather than drop him out in the open, when he stepped onto the square device, his entire world was abruptly turned upside down. One second he was fighting and the next he was standing in a place. A place he had never been. But it was bright. Not filled with sunlight, but with something artificial that cast shadows across every corner.


<Jonah Vedarian>: Jonah glanced up, trying to catch the other man's eye to let him know that he was winning but where he expected Remi to be, there was just more Hunters. Where they had swarmed him before, they began to peel back across the room. He thought that perhaps they had his faction mate cornered and sprinted after them. His long legs ate up ground but suddenly, there was no ground left to run across and he was falling forward, his massive frame slamming in to the ground at the feet of the man he was looking for. "The ****?" He managed to grunt out as he pushed himself back to standing

<Remington Rothfelder>: His body flowed with unnatural grace, like a large cat that was accustomed to the dangers of the jungle, of being the most lethal thing in them. When Jonah was standing, Remington's back was to his so that the two of them could maintain a 360 degree line of sight. He had no clue what was happening, but he didn't like it. Hunter craftiness was something new to him. Usually, they weren't all that smart, and Remington disliked feeling like he had been tricked. It had him on edge, moreso than he had been just moments before. "The **** is right." He murmured, even as he assumed a defensive stance, gaze moving about his side of the room. Where were they? It was sterile and white, like a labratory. It was circular like an arena. The lack of identifying marks was unnerving in its own right. There was the sound of a door sliding open, electronic, and then a new shadow was cast over them.

<Jonah Vedarian>: Though the two had hunted together rarely, they seemed to match each other's styles well and were in tune as they studied the room in small sweeps. When the door hissed open, both turned, presenting their fronts to the threat and their backs to what seemed to be a solid wall for now. What came through was a single individual. He was ancient and he studied them with an air of superiority. "You were not who the trap was laid for but...you will do I suppose." Jonah stepped forward, but before his foot fell, the sorcerer casually waved his arm, launching the killer in to a wall.