His booted footsteps clocked off the metal girded floor like a bell toll, rythmic and consistent. Lucius might have heard him coming, perhaps sensed him otherwise, neither case mattered much as the warrior brushed off his pants and stood up, stretching, popping a few disks in his back, all in all glad his wait was over.
-And who is my next opponent?- he thought, looking at the walking man, who was turning his head nonchalantly and looking down the long emptiness that seperated Station 13 from the scorched earth and clouds miles below. he could feel the people's eyes upon him, and half-wished they were fighting on the baked earth of the wasteland he had little love for cities, at least, as a battlefield. Maybe the citizens got the message - after a few whispeed looks at the newcomer and the man standing before him, they took the message and slinked the hell away, fast or slow depending on the levels of pride.
"Station 13, eh?" the newcomer asked in a bass voice. "Never heard of it. Seems lively enough."
"Do you always talk before fighting?" Lucius said, cutting off any pretense of conversation.
"Only before killing." The newcomer smiled. His hair was slicked back in curls, and oddly or ordinarily enough considering this particular tournament, a pale, icy blue, with matchingly glacial grey eyes and an elegantly trimmed beard. He was armoured in the usual - a cuirass of boiled leather sewn with glittering steel armour plates, bare-arm and skirted with leather and mail, his legs bare save for the knee-high Greco-Romanesque sandals. "But consider yourself lucky - had this been in the wasteland below, you would probably have met Yuri." Erdawn let the comment die and set his weaponry. Bandoliers and belts of glinting ammunition cartridges and assorted throwing weapons - stars and kunai - hung from criss-crossed loops circling his waist and chest, three sheathed swords from the right hip, tomahawks and axes and daggers from the left and down his thigh, along with an assortment of pouches and satchels. From his back hung a metallic rifle and a compound bow along with suited arrows.
"Erdawn, longhunter of Cimmera of Galilee, of Middle-World." he stated, unslinging the long, bulky rifle and aiming the muzzle down Lucius's chest, lighting it up with a triangular pattern of targeting lights. His adversary hissed and was moving with all the trained instinct he needed and he followed suit, opening up with a fullmetal-jacketed spray of plasmic-explosive rounds, lighting up the metal grating of the air-port in a cluster of hot, blinding flashes and the staccato cracks of automatic bullet fire.
OoC: Getting pressed for time - I'm going to try and use the PCs availible at the closest library until I have a working PC. |