Chapter CDXVIII: Even the Mighty Balk ~Multehx
"This is not good, not good, DEFINITELY NOT GOOD!"
CR clenched his hands into fists. He didn't see this coming, he did not see this. Why didn't he see this?! It wasn't like he could have possibly missed it. The Twilighter snapped about, and prodded the bodies of Keshi, Chrono, and Redaz with a boot.
"Come on! What the hell HAPPENED to you guys?!"
He prodded with his cane a bit, sweating a little.
"He did it
to me this time..." the watcher murmured nervously.
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Jaded bellowed as his blade cleaved deftly through the torso of another Mechna Knight. The metal halves of the armor clattered to the ground, as did the still attached bevor, helmet, and legs. Only a split second after the impact he was forced to leap back to avoid being skewered as another thrust its blade at his side. "Getting mobbed here!"
"Like that makes you any more special," Scilas growled back, executing a masterful somersault into the air and landing in a handstand on a Knight’s shoulders. The assassin hastily reached to his knife belt, produced a long, serrated dagger, and jammed it through the knight's neck before vaulting off.
He tried to make a run for his friend to assist. But an axe almost disembowelling him forced the man into a skidding stop. "You bastard!" he snarled, unleashing a scissor kick the sent that one flying into the wall of a building.
But, by this time, the first had recovered and turned, knife still sticking out of its bevor, raising its mace.
But as Scilas raised his katana, the mercenary charged in, shoulder first, ramming into the attackers chest. Jarred violently, it released hold on its mace. Jaded gasped as the weapon crashed into his back heavily, and reached for his knee for support. In a group fight like this, outnumbered, if you went down you wouldn't be getting back up.
"You ok?" Scilas hurried over to his side, quickly parrying an axe aimed to bury in his friend's spine.
A ferocious left hook sent that ones helmet bouncing, body staggering back. The assassin shoved that hand under his other armpit, cursing. "Shitshitshit!" he chanted, "I know better than to do that!"
With a labored groan, Jaded got back up. "In the heat of battle, logic can take a back seat." Taking hold of his weapon he glared, assuming a defensive stance again. "However, with who we're fighting, one fact holds true."
Scilas nodded, hastily standing by his side in a similar pose, facing their fallen foes. In a mere few moments the bits of metal and scrap had rejoined to form armored bodies, steel bevors for necks, a helmet for a head. Several Mechna Knights clambered to their feet, picking up their own weapons of choice yet again.
These few began advancing on the duo, as if nothing had happened at all. But in the distance behind them there was a steadily growing din. As the attentions of the two kept darting up and over the advancing knights to back upon them, a pair of figures shot out around the corner of a building. D'Nel Albright and Ray Noh both skidded violently and almost fell over as they changed directions abruptly to run down that very street. Again, the knights advancing were violently knocked to pieces as pirate and capsule droid bowled haphazardly through them.
As they raced passed Scilas and Jaded, D'Nel screamed to them something rather incoherent before the two were gone without a trace. "Damn they're fast," Scilas muttered, looking after them, "Guess all that fleeing comes in handy. What do you think he said?"
Jaded slipped his broadsword into the sheath upon his back. "Probably 'RUN'," he said with a nod back in the other direction.
What seemed like
a constant stream of Mechna Knights was pouring out from around the corner the
notorious screw-ups had come. They steadily advanced down the street, in the
direction of the already fleeing mercenary and assassin pair.
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A violent spray
of sparks filled the air as Ratch tried to put up the standard X-guard with his
wrists. This didn't stop his aggressor any, who hacked and slashed at them like
a madman.
He seemed to grin with his eyes, flexing his fingers and turning to face the other. Kenzos eyes narrowed, though terror shone in the back of them. "Behist thou some foul spectre plaguing me till crack 'o doom?!" the knight bellowed in an oddly casual way.
The man closed his eyes, seeming to smirk, folding his arms.
The knight's eyes opened a bit. "Then...you're...ALIVE?"
As if to reply, the man opened both eyes, grinning cruelly. The Mechna Knight recoiled a bit, hand shaking a moment before tensing on the handle of his axe. "What foul magik is at work here? Why YOU? Master Juroken slew you forthright!!"
The man shrugged, adjusting his strange attire. He was lanky, only standing at about five-foot-eight. His clothing was a simple, black shirt, black skin-tight pants, a custom tailored pair of almost skintight black boots with gold trim. He wore a tattered black cloak with a large black collar that wrapped around his face from chin to nose completely. His hands were wrapped in tattered, dirty bandages, and he bore odd black symbols down either arm; Archeic Rhenzin writing.
In modern times, no one knew of the Mechna Lord; nobody but those of the planet where the fiend started his mad quest for control, where the fearsome beast, the Mechna Knight, was born. But, under that great evil man were three who commanded his forces; a reclusive sorcerer, Harbinger, a military genius of wars past, The General, and a killer so skilled at his art he was called the hand of Death itself, The Assassin.
This man, this fiend, was the third himself. He had been slain in an almost brutal overkill; Kenzo had seen it himself. But, here he was, his form daunting as ever, fearsome indeed. The Assassin waved a hand dismissively, as if to note talking time was over, and lunged forth with super-human speed.
Even against a foe with just his bare hands, the Mechna Knight was struggling. Each blow rattled his body strongly; the punches, spins, and kicks were planned out with utmost efficiency and executed perfectly. Kenzo tried to launch an attack or two of his own, but The Assassin deftly dodged each attempt. With near lightning speed, he finally drew his blade and it flashed through the air. Kenzo grasped his elbow as all below it fell to the ground, yelling briefly in pain. But short moments later, the fallen limb leapt up and reattached to its former location, in time for the other to be diced off the same. Another scream, another clattering, and the limb re-attached itself.
Another flash of metal struck the Knight and separated his chest diagonally in both ways, but with a whimper the cuts healed up. Kenzo smirked, panting a little. The Assassin grinned back at him, tossing the blade aside and shaking his head disgustedly. Kenzos eyes strayed to look at it, and he swallowed nervously, looking back at him. "Yeah...I guess that was pretty pointless; can't defeat me with that thing."
The Assassin glared, shrugging. As Kenzo stood there, hurting still, the man seemed to simply blur and vanish from sight.
Kenzo walked over to the discarded sword and frowned. "Useless..." he muttered, "no way he could...but how he used it...not even built for that." The knight groaned, kicking the blade over the edge. "It's truly him...Pseudo means business here."
In the street far below, a knight froze as, right in front of him, a massive, bulky, almost unwieldily blade stabbed into the ground; a crude cutlass with a battered bronze hand guard and hilt.