Stretching Out Old Joints: The Knights of Cama"What?" [Open]

6/28
23:00

The hours slowly passed by as a young man order another round from the bar. He looked down in his empty glass. A single finger rolled it along it edge like a tired spinning top. The last drop of its insights danced in sync within the otherwise empty vessel. The sights of men-shapes bent and refracted through the sides of the glass revealed the devious temperament of this bar. The young man grows still and lifts into a more proper and alert pause as, almost in reaction to this movement a door opens.

'And so, he arrives,' the part time investigator thought to himself. 'That makes six up here, though the scent of some more linger in the air. This bat witch funded this bar, and, after some deep research, it turns out that a lot of the money made here goes unaccounted for. Rumors have it though that these people harvest innocent souls and distill their blood for nefarious purposes, but not for much longer.'

A quick glance around the room confirmed the information he'd purchased: each of the five kishin eggs had pistols at their side, and it was easy to assume the bat Witch would use some form of magic if given the chance. A glistening tanto made of plasma formed inside the blood thirsty Mel's hand. It  had been some time since his last fight.

Another person, also looking to ruffle feathers, sat in a corner of the bar. A drink sat almost untouched on the table in front of him and next to the drink were his boots. He was swinging on his chair, arms behind his head, looking very relaxed as he looked around the place. He figured that the place wasn't particularly nice, with plenty of people being armed with weapons that some less equipped to deal with them might be somewhat afraid of. Not this man, though. He was looking very, very relaxed. It was like nothing could phase him. Not the knife appearing in one person's hand, not anything. He sat there, swinging in his chair, looking around. He was looking for a bat.

Rumour told of a magic user who was up to no good, something that this man, who was looking ever so relaxed, could not stand to hear. Another of his kind, making the same mistakes that so many make. No, not at all. He would confirm or deny the rumour. If it wasn't true, then he could be on his way, the bat was innocent. If it was true, however... Well, what better to deal with a magic user than another magic user? Nothing better, that's what Jay thought. Nothing but a Weapon and a Meister working for soul number one hundred, perhaps, or the Reaper himself, but the next best thing was definitely another magic user. 

Still, as relaxed as Jay was, sitting there swinging in his chair, he still couldn't sit and do absolutely nothing. The knife probably meant action. Friend or foe, he didn't know, but he did act. Flipping down his goggles, Jay quietly released the spell hiding his soul. He flipped his legs down onto the floor and leaned against the table, downing the drink that was there next to his boots. A breeze seemed to roll through the room, and it definitely didn't come from the door. Jay was, most certainly, ready.

OOC: GREY YOU'RE ALIVE!? WHOA.

OOC: Yup :)

At the sign of the second unwelcome presence, the sorcerer's soul expnds from his body. It's deep purple hue taking up at least a quarter of the room causes Mel to jump back defensively escaping to the edge of its range. The sorcerer slowly turns to face him and a thick, dark, red liquid begins pouring from the floorboards as symbols resembling the mouth of a leech began appearing on his body and filtering in. The smell of the witches magic suddenly extended to a scale far greater than Mel expected. The magic was coming from deep below. The sorcerer's muscles slowly began bulging as the liquid strength poured into his body. As he quickly grew to reach the ceiling, he began taking on a bruised color and two horns grew from his head.

Mel, in immediate reaction threw the electric tanto at the collosal man who simply took the hit, pulled it out, and said,"I don't know who you are or why your here, but you've erred on this day." With a quick signal he motioned towards his minions who ran all scurried towards a trapdoor and began running down a long flight of steps. The Large man's wound quickly healed as more blood flowed into him.

OOC: Feel free to take liberties with anything here. I don't really have much of a plan. Also sorry for the crappy posts. I'm trying to get back in the groove.

I imagined the big guy transforming into this:

Jay jumped up to stand atop the table in one swift motion, the tails of his coat blowing around with the wind that helped him so easily hop up onto the surface. Standing tall and proud, hands behind his back showing that he wasn't even slightly going on the defensive despite the hulking appearance of the one who seemed to become engorged with the crimson liquid that flowed from the floor. Even through his goggles, the azure of his eyes was clear, and it was observing the magic that caused the dramatic transformation. "You've strayed from any path that may be called a good one, sir, and it is you who has erred by showing me that you have been harvesting the blood of humans to turn into that... Filth..." He spoke loudly, loud enough to speak over the growing amounts of air rushing around him.

He raised an arm, twirling a finger in a circle as he spoke his mantra, the air around the blood red ogre beginning to swirl as it fell deeply within Jay's control. "I hope your holes are one way. This is only the start and it'd be a shame for you if only this much undid your magic." He spoke again, before throwing his arm out to the side. "Vacuum!" He shouted along with the action, and all the air that swirled suddenly rushed away from the big red one, enough to splinter the wooden floor and furniture around him as it smashed into them. Jay then closed his fist and all that air rushed back in, naturally, smashing into the ogre the same way it had smashed into the splintered tables and chairs.

OOC: It's 'aight. As long as you're back.

[OOC: I've been trying for weeks and I can't think of any good material. I'm probably gonna pm you soon with some workshoppable ideas.]

OOC: Good material, bad material, I can deal with whatever.

The oni-like man grimaced as for a moment the blood he was siphoning into himself attempted to pull its way back out, but that was just for a moment as he quickly reasserted control over the magic. The forces being exerted on him enough to make him stumble to one knee. All the ehile a barrage of chairs, tables, bits of floor, and one of the thinner men that had been retreating down the stairs all catapulted towards the large man in the center of the room. He swung once with enough force and enough reach tha he managed to reduce mist of the rubble to mere splinters leaving him with bruising from the pieces that hit him and superficial cuts from the ones he blocked.

In the shadow of the oni's swing Mel leapt over his shoulder and with a single powerful kick propeled himself off of the oni to keep him off balance. "Looks like you've got the big guy, I'm gonna check the downstairs situation." Casually and confidently Mel made his way down the trapdoor knowing full well the sorcerer could handle himself. 60 meters of dashing down the dark stairwell revealed a bunch of the minions from upstairs working on large capsules each loading themselves onto a truck using golden glowing bat wings that spread from their sides. The four kishin eggs turned towards Mel pistols at the ready.

Jay acknowledged with a nod the person who, to Jay, seemed more like an ally than a foe. Enemy of his enemy, at the very least. Either was good in any case. Jay began chanting again, as he stepped off of the singular table that was still intact, slowly floating to the floor rather than falling as normal. He pulled two of the longest feathers from his quiver, placing one in each hand.

"Cutting gust!" He shouted, the blades of wind he let fly slicing through, more than disturbing, the dust that hung in the air as they headed towards the red ogre; right behind those blades followed Jay, unnaturally long strides propelled by similar gusts. The two feathers he held, sharp as any sword with none of the weight, sliced easily through the air towards the neck of the abomination in their way as the wind sorcerer suddenly spun a deadly crescent when he got in range to do so.