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 Sneak and Shove, Stanton or Obie
Sodapop Curtis
 Posted: May 22 2017, 06:59 PM
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by: Brock
Soda never touches a drop—he doesn‘t have to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.


Dancing around, was he? Soda could almost laugh. Dancing was a favorite hobby of his, and it was one of the reasons he was so light on his feet during a fight. He knew it was just an expression the guy was using, but if he was getting tired of Soda's constant movements, then Soda was doing his job correctly. Perhaps the man's guard was down enough now.

Soda kept alert but stopped for the time being. He observed his opponent, who stood just out of sword's reach of him. His sword remained in front of him, at the ready. Soda didn't have a good shot at him, but a feint might work.

"I'm not fleeing or frightened," Soda countered. Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "I do like rabbits, though." His trademark smirk showed itself. Perhaps he could goad the guy into attacking, feint one way, then strike the other way.

"A joker, I see," the man commented. "I'll be glad to shut that mouth of yours up. No need to even thank me."

With that, the man charged forward. He raised his sword in the process, and Soda saw his opportunity. He shifted his body like he was going to strike at his enemy's leg, but at the last moment, he tossed the knife up to change his grip on it, then he hurled it at the man's heart and prayed it struck true.
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Omer "Obie" Ostrov
 Posted: May 22 2017, 07:04 PM
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by: Brock
A pristine power raced over him, sheathing his body in ancient and sacred illumination. The primordial force strengthened his spirit, leaving him exalted and resolute, and willing to die for the magic that empowered the runes.


People said the strangest things when they were looking for a way to save their lives. The little joker in front of him tried and failed to be funny. If it hadn't meant removing his gaze from his opponent, Obie would have rolled his eyes. At least he had his excuse to attack now, though.

Obie dashed forward, sword raised. The man was just a step or two away from trapping himself. It would be difficult for him to evade Obie by going right or left, but it was still possible, so Obie made sure to direct him as best as he could towards the trap.

Before he got a chance, though, the man aimed for his legs. Obie lowered his sword to block the attack, but he quickly realized it was a feint. As the knife flew through the air towards him, Obie burst into shadow, ripping his molecules apart in blazing agony. The knife sailed through him.

Angered by the pain and the man's stunt, Obie re-materialized directly in front of him. With a snarl, he plunged his sword straight towards his enemy's chest.
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Sodapop Curtis
 Posted: May 22 2017, 07:14 PM
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by: Brock
Soda never touches a drop—he doesn‘t have to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.


When the man split into shadow, Soda shouted a curse word and slammed his fist into the ground. He had failed, and now he had no way to defend himself. His only option was to run, to try and reach the shelving frame before the man could materialize in front of him again.

Soda looked to either side for the quickest way out, but before he could determine which direction that was, the man materialized inches from him with his sword at the ready. Startled, Soda tumbled from his kneeling position onto his backside.

Soda tried to scramble backward, but just as he realized he was trapped, the blade pierced him. He gasped. His chest felt like it was on fire. Warm liquid oozed through his shirt, mocked Soda's breathing with how freely it flowed.

The man transformed into shadow again, leaving his sword sticking out of Soda's chest. There was no point in trying to remove it. The blood would flow faster, and Soda had no way to stop it from one side of his body let alone from both. All he could hope now was that the Fantoms didn't take his body and hold him hostage.

Within seconds of disappearing, the man resumed his human form, again directly in front of Soda. This time he held Soda's switchblade.
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Omer "Obie" Ostrov
 Posted: May 22 2017, 07:29 PM
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by: Brock
A pristine power raced over him, sheathing his body in ancient and sacred illumination. The primordial force strengthened his spirit, leaving him exalted and resolute, and willing to die for the magic that empowered the runes.


The man only gasped when the sword entered his chest and exited his back. Considering he hadn't seen the blow coming, Obie could almost respect that response. The man hadn't been the best opponent, but Obie knew that going into the fight. His enemy had even gotten a strike in on him--and nearly a second! Obie decided he would finish this quickly to honor the mortal's effort.

However, he opted for one last, cruel jab at him first. Obie retrieved the man's knife and returned to him. "For what you are and who you were up against, you fought surprisingly well. I'll let you keep your weapon, like a warrior should."

Obie stepped behind his opponent, grabbed the man's hair, pulled his head back, and placed the blade against his neck. Other than his ragged breathing and a groan at being moved, the man didn't make a sound. Further respect earned. In a swift, practiced motion, Obie slid the blade across his throat.

Once he was sure the man was dead, Obie pulled his sword from him and let his body crumple. He cleaned his sword on the man's top shirt then sheathed it. Afterward, he took the knife and wiped it free of blood, again on his fallen enemy's shirt. Obie placed the knife in the man's hand and closed his fingers around it.

"For the next few hours, go to Valhalla, or wherever you believe your soul will rest." After a moment to respect the dead, Obie shoved the man's body off the edge to lay with his friend's.



Finished
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