and so they tell me that you ain't my friend; (OPEN)

[psychice]

Who: Blacksworn & other inhabitants of Obsidian Sanctum.
What: We're having a luau, losers.
Where: Obsidian Sanctum.
When: July 11.
Warnings: Drinking, probably some nudity considering who all is going to be there, and maybe Apollo???

When it came to schmoozing and boozing, Emma was quite certain that most of her fellow Blacksworn knew how to conduct themselves properly with the right environment. If they were as like-minded as her as she's been made to believe, then it was possible they were just waiting for the opportunity to present itself. Not that the Obsidian Sanctum could host any kind of special occasion with the rough terrain, but conjuring miracles out of nothing wasn't new to this Blacksworn.

As a newcomer who wasn't greeted by her peers when she arrived (rude of them, she thought), Emma informed anyone who crossed paths with her that there was to be a party this evening and they were to attend. While most of the dragonkin didn't seem enthused over the news, she cared little for what the lot of lizards thought and took to making arrangements herself. Not that she would be alone in this venture... hopefully. Bringing it up to the other Blacksworn was her way of telling them to gear up and come with something lest her opinion of them would sour more.

By time evening comes around, an open space of the sanctum has been decorated for a party complete with a bonfire and is that a table that's been formed out of rock? Interesting use of the new abilities bestowed upon her with a touch of her own diamond hands shaping the rest. Resting on the table alongside the food are brightly colored necklaces made of orange blossoms and beads, likely from a trade with one of the villages nearby. Yes, those are leis for anyone who might have actually heard of them prior to Azeroth and is that liquor of some kind? There's probably some other neat stuff around thanks to the other Blacksworn who know how to make a party rock and for the ones that don't, it's time they learned.

{ OOC | This is a free for all bring your own stuff and mingle for the most antisocial sanctum there is. Make your own top levels, do whatever seems reasonable. If you need an excuse to attend, Emma could have dragged your character there. }

Comments

[irritating]

She absolutely assumes that he's just going to take control of her boulder, so when something blue appears in front of him instead, she's visibly surprised. When it thumps to the ground to the side, she spares it a quick glance just to see what the hell just happened, but she's quick to get her eyes back on Qilby. Easily distracted as she is, even she knows it isn't wise to take her eyes off her opponent.

A physical fight isn't what she had had in mind when she first approached (harassed) Qilby, but with the right push (thanks Deathwing), well, here she is. And she isn't looking too keen on backing off.

He backs up and she advances, favouring a more direct, close ranged approach in the face of his preference for distance, but those portals springing into existence around her gets her to momentarily stop. Magic is an anomaly to her - she has no idea how it works, so she isn't sure on how to counter it properly. But she can try, oh can she try, and the second he gives her that look she gives him one of her own - an expression that implies she's hissing at him again, and that she is absolutely going to try.

Once she deals with this, at least.

Her reaction time is sharp, even with all of the alcohol she has in her (though really, the current situation has done wonders on sobering her up somewhat). She's surprisingly quick too, diving out of the way of whatever the hell he just hurled at her, charging forward to try getting between two of the portals, sweeping her arms and forcing multiple pieces of rock to spring forth from the ground, immediately getting launched at him for a second attempt at hitting him.

[traitre]

Naturally his first reaction is to conjure another pair of portals and redirect her attacks a second time (of course she'd be the type of person to keep trying something that doesn't work, he thinks, trying not to laugh) but he's hit upon limits he forgets he has-- has never had until Azeroth. The moment he tries to do so he feels a disturbance in his wakfu, a backfiring like the sudden snap of a too-taut elastic band, and the blue glow of his magic fades away as all of his portals wink out at once.

Qilby recognizes his mistake right around when the first missile sails above his head. He only fully appreciates it once the second one catches him in his bad shoulder, spinning him around and nearly putting him on the ground-- it's only his own sharp reaction time (sharp, even for his apparent age) that keeps standing as he steadies himself on one hand and knee.

He doesn't bother to hide his annoyance now. Never much of a brawler to begin with, he hasn't been in a real fight since-- well, since he got his arm torn off some four months ago. Needless to say he's a little rusty.

"This is how the King of the Sea fights? By throwing pebbles?" Qilby calls out as he gets back on his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder. It'll likely bruise, but it's not as if he has the loss of an arm to worry about there anymore.

lmao don't add him to the tag order, he's just watching

[beholdthedrums]

Somewhere along the way, they've easily garnered more attention than just Deathwing. The Master's taken to perching on a rock with his legs crossed, gnawing idly on what's left of a bear leg, watching.

He's being a quiet observer, unlike some people (dragons), critically cataloging how they both fight with interest.

But secretly he's cheering for Apollo.

Sorry, Qilby.

[irritating]

Trying something that doesn't work a second time seems to work now, doesn't it? Of course it's pure luck on Apollo's end that Qilby's powers are limited, because otherwise she wouldn't have made any progress. But they are and she does, managing to clip him with one of her randomly thrown rocks. She doesn't have nearly as much control over her rock projectiles as she'd like, being used to being known for her impeccable aim with other projectiles, but it's a hit, his portals are down, and it's good enough.

She doesn't stop coming his way as he gets back to his feet, but she is stomping her way over in a brisk walk instead of a run. Determined, also annoyed, but clearly seeming to think she has the upper hand right now.

"The pebbles are new!" She barks back, "I don't fuckin' fight like you, I use force an' good ol' fashioned fisticuffs, remember?" Apollo is absolutely a brawler, she wants to punch him in the face with her bare fists, or wrestle him to the ground, or kick him in the teeth, or something. She'd rather see blood than bruises. "An' I fight with fuckin'--"

Guns, which she realizes she doesn't have when she instinctively reaches to the hips to grab her pistols. A shriek and a curse later, she's raising her hand up to put her fingers in her mouth to make for a louder whistle, hoping to fuck Metalhead hasn't wandered too far away (because yes, she leaves her weapons with her monster dog). But she isn't going to stand around waiting, she's aggravated enough by her own damn mistake that she charges forward in his direction, fully intending to knock him to the ground with sheer brute force if he doesn't get out of the way.

godmode permissions received for anyone looking at this later o7

[traitre]

He doesn't get to find out exactly what she apparently fights with, and that whistle means nothing to him (it's probably nothing of consequence, anyway.) But she is charging at him now, enraged, and he much prefers that over her flinging things at him like a monkey. Qilby holds back a smile. Good -- the taunting finally got to her, and now he can put his ability to keep her at a distance to actual use. Patiently he stands there, a sitting duck, until Apollo is less than two yards away from him before making his move-- conjuring a portal between him and her with the barest flick of his fingers before a grander sweep of his arm throws up the exit portal leading out and upwards, higher above everyone's heads.

And then, he proceeds to juggle her.

With each portal she exits out of, he dispels the previous one and throws out a new one for her to fall in until he's got a regular performance going on for the party (and any spectators, Deathwing included.) It's not even about hurting her at this point; it's more about making a spectacle of her for making a spectacle of them. No Blacksworn will look at her after this and think her leader material.

"What were you saying just now? I didn't quite catch that!" he crows up at her. His eyes are off the ground, attention focused up on his juggling-- but what's he got to worry about now?

[irritating]

Considering he's already shown her the capabilities he has for portal creation, she probably should have been more wary about the possibility of more, especially with him standing there just waiting for her. But the taunting has indeed gotten to her and she gives in, charging at him until -

What the hell is this.

She doesn't have time to stop and she ends up hurling herself through the portal all her own. She has no idea where it leads, god what if she ends up in another dimension, or what if he drops her from the sky? But no, he does neither of those things, and instead opts to juggle her around with portals as though she's a goddamn circus act. With every portal she falls out of she's in a new position, flailing around and screaming colourful, loud profanities as she disappears and reappears from one portal to the next.

"I'm--" Portal change. "-gonna fuckin'-" And another one. "-MURDER YOU, YOU--" The portal switch eats up whatever foul word she's chosen to brand him with, but she sure does keep up her screaming.

As for her whistle... well, finally there comes a response, whether Apollo notices right away or not. Metalhead, faithful as ever and close enough to hear her whistle and subsequent screaming, is finally bolting to his master's aid, crossing the rugged terrain and leaping over lava pits as though they're nothing. Coming from the side, the enormous canine dives over the rocks and launches himself straight at Qilby, barking and snarling as he tackles him with a headbutt much more forceful than his master's.

[traitre]

"Language. Careful how you talk around your superiors," Qilby chastises (speaking more about himself than Deathwing.) He's still too busy concentrating on keeping her up in the air to pay attention to anything going on below, and he doesn't notice the thump of several large paws on obsidian until their owner is snarling right in his ear.

The headbutt nails him squarely in the ribs, sending him flying with a loud, high-pitched yelp that'd probably sound more natural coming out of Apollo or... Anyone who isn't a grown man, really. This time he isn't quite able to catch himself before he hits the ground hard on his other shoulder. Once again his portals wink out, his concentration thoroughly broken. Qilby rolls over with a groan, having trouble deciding whether to clutch his side (surely another bruise to add to a steadily-growing collection, it seems) or prop himself up with his one good arm. Eventually he pushes himself up to a sitting position, determined to send her damned dog to the center of the planet-- and finds himself face to face with the beast. Qilby freezes.

"Two against one? Really?" He doesn't want to make any sudden movements yet -- not when the creature's bristling and snarling at him like that -- but he casts sidelong glances around for Metalhead's owner who must've fallen to the ground somewhere around here.

[irritating]

"You be careful -- how you treat your superiors!"

Shortly before Metalhead makes contact with Qilby, Apollo takes notice of her faithful companion literally leaping to her aid, to which she makes a more happy sounding scream. Which quickly turns back into an angered scream, because suddenly she's falling from one portal straight to the ground without anything to cushion her. With a thud she hits the ground hard, landing on top of a little hill that sends her sliding and rolling down the rocky incline until she manages to stop herself before rolling right into a pool of lava. Doesn't mean her hair doesn't get a little singed on one side, though.

For his part, Metalhead keeps his attention squarely on Qilby. Apollo's gun belts slung around his neck, the dog bares his teeth as he snaps, snarls, and drools in the man's face, merely a command from his master away from trying to sink his teeth into him.

"Yes fuckin' really, ugh," Apollo struggles to her feet, dizzy from both being thrown around like that and because she may or may not have smacked her head on a rock on the way down, and she rips her flower necklaces off once she realizes they've caught on fire and the flame is spreading. "They're callin' me a hunter here, an' every hunter has a beast, it's a fuckin'--" Ow, good god her jaw hurts. "Method of combat, you moronic mage."

[traitre]

"It wasn't a 'method of combat' until you started losing," he retorts peevishly, quickly falling into a sullen silence when her cur snarls in his face and drips frothy saliva on his already-bloodstained clothing. He pulls a face. First chance he gets, he's dissecting the hideous thing.

Qilby's tired, accumulating more aches and bruises with each passing minute, and not even sure the fight's worth whatever impression it's making on the dragon watching it. Does Apollo feel the same? If not, judging by her unsteady walk (not all of it's the drink, he suspects) she's getting there.

"You've seen how quick I can be with my portals. Call off your lapdog, or I drop both of you out a mile over the Sanctum." He sounds much more sure of the threat than he actually feels -- if his abilities are still this stunted after months here, who's to say he even can make a portal out that far? It used to be he could instantly travel from the deepest valleys to the highest mountaintops and hardly break a sweat, but now...

Best to bluff his way out. He glances once at Deathwing and back again. Quiet now, so that the others don't hear. "Believe me, you're worth more than carrion for the birds. What will it be?"

[irritating]

"It's always a fuckin' method of combat, I just wasn't fuckin' usin' it." She snaps back at him, still trying to regain her balance and stubbornly come closer so she can punch him in the face like she wants. "Wouldya rather I use the weapons he brought for me? Would that makeya feel fuckin' better?"

Metalhead's snarl turns into a loud, booming bark, spraying bits of saliva at Qilby in process. While Apollo puts all of her concentration in walking in a straight line, he continues to keep the man cornered.

Apollo stops when she receives that threat, though. She studies him with an angry looking curiosity, like she's trying to figure out whether or not he's actually capable of or willing to do that. They're supposed to be flightmates and allies of sorts, after all - but then again, Apollo's so belligerent and wild that she's ended up in an actual, physical fight with him regardless. (And at a party, no less.) Covered in dirt and scratches from her fall, Apollo stands there a moment longer, considering her options. Right now she doesn't give a shit what Deathwing thinks - she isn't fighting to impress a dragon of all things, she's fighting because she took something and blew it way out of proportion. But she is getting tired, and yeah, there is definitely some sort of head wound going on because there is now a small trickle of blood running down her face from beyond her hairline. Finally she makes a quick noise that Metalhead seems to understand as back down. Closing his mouth, the dog pulls back, turns around, and immediately goes to his master's side.

"I'm worth a lot fuckin' more than that, you asshole." Reaching down, she pulls one of the pistols out of the belt thrown around the dog's neck, aiming it directly at Qilby. There's a bit of distance between them, but there isn't any uncertainty in Apollo's body language. "Are you?"

[traitre]

He grimaces as another spray of dog drool hits him. Yes. Definitely dissection. But finally the damned thing backs off and Qilby takes that as his cue to start to get to his feet when he's suddenly looking down the barrel of something far more troubling.

Qilby watches her quietly, brow knitted. She wouldn't really do it. Would she? With as drunk and angry (and maybe a little provoked) as Apollo is, he's not so sure anymore. He can only assume how lethal those weapons of hers are, and while he thinks his reflexes are good enough that he may be able to redirect the shot in time... The past couple minutes have been nothing but evidence to the contrary.

"Let's just say there's only one loss the flight will mourn. And the other won't last long after," he says at last, slowly, staring unflinchingly up at Apollo. Hopefully the promise (assumption) of retribution will get her to back down, but just in case... Propped up on his elbow, hand hidden in the long, wide sleeve of his (once white) tunic, he lifts one finger ever so slightly-- and a glassy black spear carves itself out of the obsidian behind her and hangs silently, poised to strike her through the heart.

If he does it now, he could avoid her shot even if it goes off. He should just do it now, the others will understand -- it's just self-defense at this point, they all can see that.

A muscle above his eye twitches. Still he waits, unblinking.

[irritating]

It doesn't matter how unsteady her footing had been just now, or the fact that blood is steadily trickling down her face, hanging off her eyelashes - what matters is that her arm is steady. She knows how to handle her weapons, she knows how to aim, and she's bold enough to stand her ground.

"That's whatcha think, huh?" She says, stepping closer until the barrel of her gun is that much nearer to it's target. "I wonder which one that'll be."

But she doesn't fire, not even at point blank range. And it's because she knows he's done something. She doesn't know what it is, that it's a spear and it's aimed directly at her heart, but the movement of her dog's head when he notices something odd appear behind his master gives it away, which leads her to believe that she isn't the only one ready to take a life here. And despite that, she isn't afraid. After a moment's silence, she speaks again. "This fuckin' ends in one of two ways. Either we both die here today, or you call off whatever the fuck it is you've got aimed at me and we both walk away. An' since I don't quite feel like dyin' today, an' I certainly ain't willin' to die with you, we're gonna do the second one once you fuckin' drop it."

This isn't the first time she's faced death, and this isn't the first time she's threatened to take life away. And it wouldn't be the first time she's killed, far from it... but if she's being honest here, she would rather not kill Qilby, especially not if it she has to die to do it. It's why she still hasn't pulled the trigger.

But she's waiting. Her ego demands Qilby be the one to admit defeat first, and in spite of everything, she still has it in her to push it that much further.

[traitre]

His brow knits even closer at that. One twitch of his finger, that's all it'll take. He's positive now that he can kill her before she pulls that trigger.

But it's that one unknown, the uncertainty of the state of his own immortality, that stays his hand. His Dofus on another world, his sister lost, his wakfu-- tied to this world. Where will it go if he dies here in this hole in the ground? It's the only mystery here he's not impatient to unravel. His ennui -- the sheer nothingness he'd endured daily on his world, crippling to the point of nearly physical agony -- is one thing... But death, true death like each generation of Eliatrope children eventually experiences? He can only imagine it, and it's worse than nothing.

He's never really faced death before, not like this. And to his growing horror, he realizes-- it absolutely terrifies him.

A long moment passes before Qilby nods his head a fraction of an inch, all the indication that he'll give her. As soon as he lowers his finger, the spear falls to the ground and shatters against the rock. It's only when he finally releases his "grip" on the shard and flexes his stiff, aching fingers that he realizes just how tense he was.

"We both walk away," he insists in clipped tones. He really would almost rather die than give her the impression that she's won: as far as anyone should be concerned, they fought this one to a standstill. No one must look at him and think he was the first to bend.

[irritating]

Her mind doesn't go in quite the same directions as Qilby does, for the obvious reasons of their differing worlds, but it isn't as if she doesn't consider what it's like to die as well, even if it's only a fleeting thought. What is it like to die, and what happens when she dies here? Like her opponent, she isn't exactly eager to figure that one out.

So it comes as a relief when Qilby decides to forfeit. Nevermind the fact that the both of them really had fought themselves into a standstill, and that she had come just as close to death as he had. She was the one to lay out the options, and he was the one to choose from them - to her, that's the important part.

Only when she hears the obsidian shatters does she lower her weapon. "Good." She responds, a smug little look cropping up on her face, clearly seeming to have taken this as a win whether anyone else is going to agree with her or not. Not entirely sure if she trusts him to honour the decision, Apollo puts a bit of distance between them by taking a couple steps backward, refusing to turn her back to him. But once she feels relatively safe, she releases a breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding, and immediately puts her hand on Metalhead's back to support herself as the tension in her body unravels and the adrenaline hiding the aches in her body begins to fade away.

[traitre]

He watches Apollo go, using her mutt for support, and immediately regrets his decision. The miserable woman can barely stand! If he'd just have stalled a little longer, waited until she'd bled out just a little bit more... It might not be too late. Taking her out now might even be the sort of trick the Black Flight would approve of. That smirk of hers is what almost does it too, his jaw stiffening when he sees it, heat rising to the surface of his face--

But again, it's that nagging voice in some corner of his mind -- what if you're not quick enough? -- that sets his hand to trembling again and for the second time today he backs down. He's not sure what's worse: the thought of death, or the fact that thinking about it turns his stomach so much. Too disgusted with himself for a cutting remark or comeback, he wordlessly gets to his feet and brushes himself off (little good it does him and his thoroughly ruined clothing.)

It must be some kind of sick joke. His immortality -- which he'd spent generations of despairingly empty life cycles cursing -- is something he actually finds himself missing here. Qilby glances up at Deathwing again, searching the great reptilian face for a sign of any sort of reaction to how things turned out. This is all the more reason to accelerate his research, find a shortcut back to that power he's accustomed (entitled) to. But if he's harmed his chances today...

[irritating]

Still using Metalhead as support (though trying her best to cover up the fact that she kind of feels like collapsing instead), she keeps herself steady as she watches Qilby rise to his feet. She may have lowered her defenses now that they've agreed to stop fighting and put some distance between them, but that doesn't mean she's ready to take her eyes off him. She's ended a fight unfairly herself enough times to know not to do that.

She kind of expects some sort of remark out of him though, so she finds herself a little surprised when he says nothing. But maybe he's just a sore loser, she thinks, and maybe he's too annoyed to even talk to her.

And then he's not even looking at her anymore - he's looking at Deathwing, and Apollo can't help but roll her eyes and let out a short little laugh that sounds like a mix of amusement and some disbelief. "What," She begins, holding herself up a little straighter now that she's had time to regain most of her balance and composure. "You waitin' for him to call it? Giveya a score? Or doya just wanna make sure he saw you lose?"

[traitre]

Nothing. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't approval. Not anything good. Perhaps it's best he doesn't look for a reaction now.

The woman's yelling something at him now. He does his best not to pay attention to her actual words, but it's to no avail -- they drill through his skull, doing absolutely nothing for his growing headache. Slowly, he tilts his head back down and around to fix her with a withering stare, lip curled.

"You've got a little, aah--" Arching a brow, he motions at his forehead. That blood trickling down her face. "...Right here. Must've slipped and cracked that big head of yours on a rock back there."

In other words: go ahead and gloat. It's all just more tinder to fuel a grudge -- one he suspects he'll be nursing for a long while now.

*slips back in*

[beholdthedrums]

Someone is going to either die or be killed here and shockingly the Master would prefer that didn't happen. Not yet, anyway. He's made mental notes about the abilities of the two, with warning labels about Qilby and portals, and Apollo and guns. He wonders how much being drunk changed her combat ability.

Now if she could only learn to shut her damn mouth, this whole incident could maybe be swept under a rug.

He unfolds from his spot in one swift motion, canting his head to glare in Qilby's direction, which happens to also get Deathwing in there, but it's quick and fleeting.

Hope the show was nice for you, bastard of a dragon.

The Master hops from his rock, bone from the bear leg dangling from a hand, and strolls towards Apollo. If she dies from a concussion or something equally stupid, he's going to be pissed. She's going to be a star pawn one day, Qilby, please don't ruin that.

Rude.

He offers the dog the remnants of his bear in echo of their first meeting. He's not here to hurt your moronic master, pooch. "So what have we learned? Don't get drunk at parties? Though I loved the dinner and a show." He rolls his eyes. Come on, Apollo, keep walking and don't talk to Qilby any further.

[irritating]

Apollo raises her hand and pokes at her forehead at the comment, her fingers coming away bloody. Right, that.

"Slipped?" She asks, barely holding back incredulous laughter. It's probably a good thing that the Master decides to intervene when he does, because Apollo is very possibly determined (stupid) enough to keep on talking when she should just walk away.

"Parties ain't parties without gettin' drunk, c'mon, nobody learned that lesson." She waves a dismissive hand at him, that totally isn't the lesson to learn here. Besides, as far as she's concerned, she actually had a reason for this, and this wasn't just random, senseless violence. In any case, with the Master's appearance here, she seems to be ready to back off already. Possibly because staring down at Metalhead, chewing and chomping away at his new treat, redirects her thought process from violence to eating.

"I'd ask if y'got any food for me too, but you don't ever fuckin' roast anythin' before you eat it." A heavy, over dramatic sigh. "Fuck it, maybe there's some roasted boar left. C'mon, Metalhead."

[traitre]

Qilby watches the pair quietly, trying to figure out what exactly he's seeing here. Are the two already allies, or is this the Master's way of declaring the side he's taking? When the other man looks over his way, he returns the glare with a flat, unimpressed stare. Certainly isn't the first time someone's thrown in their lot with the wrong team, against him-- but things have a way of working out in the end, however long it takes. He always makes damn well sure of that.

He doesn't bother with parting words (the hitch in his breath coming from what feels like a literal dent in his ribcage making it a chore simply to stand around like this, much less speak) and so after one last, long calculating look at the two of them, he tosses up one last portal and leaves.