Playerlogs
Battle With Gryndal 241020
On a chilly rooftop, amidst a sky barely cloaked in thin white clouds under the light of a waning gibbous moon, a fierce battle unfolds between Gryndal, a formidable opponent with dark intentions, and a motley crew consisting of Aristotle, Korina, and Nikolai. Despite their initial unpreparedness and the low blow Gryndal lands on Aristotle, the trio shows fierce resilience. Aristotle wields his bat with desperate courage, Korina jumps into the fray with protective ferocity and her claws ready, and Nikolai employs the tactical use of his gadgets alongside his flame-throwing hammer to back his allies up and take the fight to Gryndal. The battle intensifies as Gryndal, revealing the capability of flight and equipped with a spear that hovers ominously, takes to the air, spreading an ominous presence over the group.
As the battle wages, the vulnerabilities and strengths of each combatant become apparent. Korina's and Aristotle's coordination speaks of an unspoken bond, even as they deal with the effects of Nikolai's neutralizer grenade, which catches them off-guard. Nikolai's bold strategy and fiery attacks manage to keep Gryndal at bay, even as Gryndal taunts and tests their resolve with his dwindling, yet persistent assaults. The clash escalates towards a precarious edge of the rooftop, with Gryndal's armor beginning to fail, showcasing the angelic heritage beneath, hinting at a deeper story behind his relentless aggression. Each participant, despite the chaos and danger, shows moments of reflection and humanity, pondering Gryndal's true nature and the notion of fallen beings. In a dramatic turn, as Gryndal's defenses begin to crumble, revealing the dichotomy of his existence, the fight sees a momentary pause—allowing the fighters to contemplate the true weight of their actions and the possible redemption or damnation that lies within the heart of their enigmatic foe.
(Battle with Gryndal)
[Sat Oct 19 2024]
In the roof of the apartment complex
It is night, about 52F(11C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky. There is a waning gibbous moon.
Not as prepared as he could have been, it's a flailing action that Aristotle takes when he's struck - swinging out with his bat in an attempt to disarm Gryndal.
Korina isn't quite fast enough to keep Aristotle from getting mauled just that one time, but she jumps in soon enough, covering him while she calls for her own backup, claws at the ready and a low, rumbling growl starting up at the base of her throat.
Nikolai steps back out of the blast radius of his neutraliser, which he primes with the same hand he uses to pluck it from the pouch and toss it in turn, though he seems keen on moving back into range as he sends a bolt of flame lancing from the tip of his hammer towards Gryndal.
The first strike is charged upon Aristotle immediately, and even when the spear is deflected aside, it howers in the air - so near and close for Gryndal to capture. "Fine tricks. I hope it will prevail." And then, he is rising - wings beating against the ground and leaving oil-slick dust as he slowly tries to ascend.
"Of course it is /flying/," Korina scowls. Why wouldn't it be? It's only logical. Reasonable. And yet she frowns quite fiercely at Gryndal regardless.
"What... what was in that grenade?" Aristotle asks, glancing back at Nikolai as he seems for a moment unsteady on his feet. It's an off-balance swing he delivers to Gryndal - less effective than he'd hoped as it deflects off his armor.
Korina did absolutely get caught up in that neutralizer grenade too, and there's a displeased frown on her face as she focuses instead with her mind, foregoing physical strength for the time being while she focuses on holding the armor still-- and there it goes.
Korina says "Nik, cover Ari."
"Cyka blyat," Nikolai swears, tossed over someone as he dashes in. "I will. Give me a minute."
"Cyka blyat," Nikolai swears, tossed over Gryndal as he dashes in. "I will. Give me a minute."
Korina says "Oh. "
"I do not know what this thing you've used is." Gryndal offers while it appears that his wings fail, and his fireball is merely a pinprick of light that bounces off of someone' shoulder and disappears into motes of ash. "It was not wise to catch your allies in it." The reddish hue beneath the mask is dark, seemingly blinded, for now - but it is no obstacle to sending someone elsewhere upon his charge.
"I do not know what this thing you've used is." Gryndal offers while it appears that his wings fail, and his fireball is merely a pinprick of light that bounces off of his target's shoulder and disappears into motes of ash. "It was not wise to catch your allies in it." The reddish hue beneath the mask is dark, seemingly blinded, for now - but it is no obstacle to sending someone elsewhere upon his charge.
Korina is fearless as she lunges in close, claws-first towards Gryndal to meet it with a clash of steel against steel. Aristotle's left uncovered in the process, but hey, he can probably handle himself, right?
Aristotle gives a glance over at Nikolai as he approaches, attention turning back to Gryndal for the time being.
Getting his feet back under him as he recovers from his inadvertent tumble, Nikolai moves back towards Aristotle and plants himself warily between the deputy and the knight. "Better than dealing with the magic in spear, mudak," he swears. "Wait until you see other things I can do."
"I am /fine/," Korina calls out just to refute Gryndal's claims about getting caught in neutralizers being a bad thing. She's totally fine. And then- "Oh."
The broken pieces and parts of Gryndal's armor snap back from their scattered spots. The shining golden light that had begun to seep from within return immediately - cover and encase Gryndal once more.
Korina moves to cover Aristotle yet again as Nikolai jumps in to melee this time, glancing around. "Where the fuck is Asad?" Not here, apparently. Maybe the cat-minion is napping back home. Korina cannot fault it.
Nikolai's feet crunch on the rooftop as he barrels back in towards Gryndal, with Korina protecting Aristotle, and slams the haft of his hammer down along that of the enemy's spear, forcing it away. "Eat shit," he hisses.
Aristotle, still slowed from that initial mauling, finally makes his approach to Gryndal. He's swinging out with his bat, trying to force the creature prone, before the next motion sees him swinging his bat down on it.
"Crude." Gryndal speaks slowly again, echoing his words towards Nikolai this time after a retreat. He doesn't say anything more - but the sound remains quietly somber, sober, as well as distant.
"Do you think you would taste better grilled or fried?" Korina questions, just so Gryndal has a variety of subjects to respond to, while she slashes at him with a loud crashing of steel against steel once more.
Crude's a good word for it. Nikolai's not a classy fighter - he swings a great, oversized hammer like a child's toy, and his style is straightforward and effective. The most complexity he's throwing out here are in his gadgets, and in cursing in English rather than Russian.
"Anyone else kinda curious about what this thing is?" Aristotle asks, his own question voicing out through the chaos as a curious, but still very cautious eye is given towards Gryndal, despite his closeness. "Fallen Angel or something?"
"He was flying." Korina points out, very reasonably to Aristotle. "That is not fallen." Does he really want to explain it all to her?
"Scrap metal," Nikolai announces. "I will smelt it in my forge. Make something real out of it. Fight me!"
Nikolai can't call dibs if Korina already called dibs. She gasps out loud, and re-doubles her efforts. "Killing blow gets to use it," comes the taunt for Nikolai, as though Gryndal isn't literally /right there/.
In spite of the heat of battle while Korina and Nikolai make paperweight of Gryndal, Aristotle is given a brief look. For the first time, there is a low chuckle beneath the helmet. Something rumbling, quiet an reserved that disappears. Turned upon others once again.
"No, fallen, like... not divine anymore." Aristotle says, finding an odd time to try and explain something to Korina. "I mean, it seems kinda sad." He says, as if Gryndal weren't here. "No purpose and all, y'know? I think for an angel --" he says, pausing long enough to try and grab hold of Gryndal to keep him prone. "That'd be the worst kind of outcome."
"Maybe. It does not have a collar." Korina points out, squinting like trying to figure out if Gryndal may be hiding a collar beneath all the... well, armor. "And if it was a real angel it would have let me eat it already." Checkmate?
And, Aristotle finds himself tumbling to the ground as Gryndal effortlessly shakes off his grapple. Fortunately, his bat broke his fall. Unfortunately, he's swearing as a spike hits his hand. It takes him a moment before he's scrambling up to pursue again.
Korina waits for Aristotle to move before she'll go, just to cover him.
"Only purpose an angel needs is a master to tell it what to do," Nikolai grunts - perhaps a little insensitively, given present company. His hammer rings the creature's shield like a gong where his blows are met, and when it retreats again, the Russian follows up with a brief lash of flame towards the harried thing. "Knock its fucking helmet off, Deputy."
"Perhaps if you have so many questions - Gryndal retreats yet again. Driving combat to the edge ever so slowly. "It would be more prudent to speak first." The spear is twirled, and a flame that's still barely a pinprick slams into Nikolai - doing nothing more than singing the edge of his coat. "I am here, after all - I would not deny you your will to fight after.""
"Perhaps if you have so many questions -" Gryndal retreats yet again. Driving combat to the edge ever so slowly. "It would be more prudent to speak first." The spear is twirled, and a flame that's still barely a pinprick slams into Nikolai - doing nothing more than singing the edge of his coat. "I am here, after all - I would not deny you your will to fight after."
A swing towards Gryndal's head sees the bat flying wide from its mark. Aristotle glances over to Nikolai first, voicing out, "I know this isn't the time, but Angels are perfectly valid without masters." He says, and then, he's looking over to Gryndal as it continues to push the fight closer and closer towards the edge, where only one of the beings in this group won't immediately fall off. "Hey, careful guys, we're getting a little close..."
Korina is driven almost to her knees with the force of that last blow, even if it didn't actually hit that hard. She's not wounded, just winded. "Fucker." Call her crude.
"You okay?" Aristotle asks, calling out behind him towards someone, just as she moves up to follow him.
"Blyat," Nikolai scowls. "Ari, can you throw Korina?"
"Hey!" Korina(Homo felis) yelps aloud when she's grabbed and twisted like that, attempting to scratch at Gryndal's face-helmet-thing if it wasn't /so fucking far away/. Why's he so tall.
"Please." Gryndal intones in that pained, faraway echo. "Fight more conservatively." It dares to suggests even if nearly the whole armor is chipped off of him now. Some pinpricks of red-tainted golden hues blee out, drowned out of tune - while Korina(Homo felis) is caught on the ground he was taken to, twiste to be put ahead between him and others.
Aristotle glances from Nikolai to Korina(Homo felis), before stating, "It'll take me a second to brace for that." He says.
Aristotle brings up his bat just in time to parry Gryndal's attack, but it knocks him way off balance. He hits the ground with a grunt, looking mostly alright, before pushing himself back up to his feet.
Puffing out two nostrils' worth of amusement, despite the frustration creasing his features, Nikolai asks, "What, you want me to make this about colour of your armour, monster? You can point at the Deputy, cry about police brutality." He's holding off from such brutality himself for the moment - he's not going to hit someone.
Puffing out two nostrils' worth of amusement, despite the frustration creasing his features, Nikolai asks, "What, you want me to make this about colour of your armour, monster? You can point at the Deputy, cry about police brutality." He's holding off from such brutality himself for the moment - he's not going to hit Korina(Homo felis).
Korina(Homo felis) closes her teeth around Gryndal's forearm, and immediately regrets it. "Fuck!" comes the exclamation along with the toothache, and she's finally writhing free of the creature's grasp and leaping away so she can hopefully come back and not get yoinked again.
There is a silent moment where Gryndal meets Nikolai's eyes. There is nothing but a soulless husk within his helmet - but still it is unmistakable where he looks. Some wordless exchange, where tattered protection reveals more angelic heritage beneath. He nods.
As that armor falls, revealing Gryndal's heritage, Aristotle gives him a curious stare, attacks stalling long enough to watch him for a moment. "...Wild." He says. "Huh. I wonder if what he is now is what they all turn into after a while..." No time to muse, though, as he approaches closer.
As Gryndal takes that step back, Nikolai steps forward to meet him - now separated from Korina(snow leopard), the Russian brings his hammer up, up, ready to put a proper dent in Gryndal's metal hide.
As the battle wages, the vulnerabilities and strengths of each combatant become apparent. Korina's and Aristotle's coordination speaks of an unspoken bond, even as they deal with the effects of Nikolai's neutralizer grenade, which catches them off-guard. Nikolai's bold strategy and fiery attacks manage to keep Gryndal at bay, even as Gryndal taunts and tests their resolve with his dwindling, yet persistent assaults. The clash escalates towards a precarious edge of the rooftop, with Gryndal's armor beginning to fail, showcasing the angelic heritage beneath, hinting at a deeper story behind his relentless aggression. Each participant, despite the chaos and danger, shows moments of reflection and humanity, pondering Gryndal's true nature and the notion of fallen beings. In a dramatic turn, as Gryndal's defenses begin to crumble, revealing the dichotomy of his existence, the fight sees a momentary pause—allowing the fighters to contemplate the true weight of their actions and the possible redemption or damnation that lies within the heart of their enigmatic foe.
(Battle with Gryndal)
[Sat Oct 19 2024]
In the roof of the apartment complex
It is night, about 52F(11C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky. There is a waning gibbous moon.
Not as prepared as he could have been, it's a flailing action that Aristotle takes when he's struck - swinging out with his bat in an attempt to disarm Gryndal.
Korina isn't quite fast enough to keep Aristotle from getting mauled just that one time, but she jumps in soon enough, covering him while she calls for her own backup, claws at the ready and a low, rumbling growl starting up at the base of her throat.
Nikolai steps back out of the blast radius of his neutraliser, which he primes with the same hand he uses to pluck it from the pouch and toss it in turn, though he seems keen on moving back into range as he sends a bolt of flame lancing from the tip of his hammer towards Gryndal.
The first strike is charged upon Aristotle immediately, and even when the spear is deflected aside, it howers in the air - so near and close for Gryndal to capture. "Fine tricks. I hope it will prevail." And then, he is rising - wings beating against the ground and leaving oil-slick dust as he slowly tries to ascend.
"Of course it is /flying/," Korina scowls. Why wouldn't it be? It's only logical. Reasonable. And yet she frowns quite fiercely at Gryndal regardless.
"What... what was in that grenade?" Aristotle asks, glancing back at Nikolai as he seems for a moment unsteady on his feet. It's an off-balance swing he delivers to Gryndal - less effective than he'd hoped as it deflects off his armor.
Korina did absolutely get caught up in that neutralizer grenade too, and there's a displeased frown on her face as she focuses instead with her mind, foregoing physical strength for the time being while she focuses on holding the armor still-- and there it goes.
Korina says "Nik, cover Ari."
"Cyka blyat," Nikolai swears, tossed over someone as he dashes in. "I will. Give me a minute."
"Cyka blyat," Nikolai swears, tossed over Gryndal as he dashes in. "I will. Give me a minute."
Korina says "Oh. "
"I do not know what this thing you've used is." Gryndal offers while it appears that his wings fail, and his fireball is merely a pinprick of light that bounces off of someone' shoulder and disappears into motes of ash. "It was not wise to catch your allies in it." The reddish hue beneath the mask is dark, seemingly blinded, for now - but it is no obstacle to sending someone elsewhere upon his charge.
"I do not know what this thing you've used is." Gryndal offers while it appears that his wings fail, and his fireball is merely a pinprick of light that bounces off of his target's shoulder and disappears into motes of ash. "It was not wise to catch your allies in it." The reddish hue beneath the mask is dark, seemingly blinded, for now - but it is no obstacle to sending someone elsewhere upon his charge.
Korina is fearless as she lunges in close, claws-first towards Gryndal to meet it with a clash of steel against steel. Aristotle's left uncovered in the process, but hey, he can probably handle himself, right?
Aristotle gives a glance over at Nikolai as he approaches, attention turning back to Gryndal for the time being.
Getting his feet back under him as he recovers from his inadvertent tumble, Nikolai moves back towards Aristotle and plants himself warily between the deputy and the knight. "Better than dealing with the magic in spear, mudak," he swears. "Wait until you see other things I can do."
"I am /fine/," Korina calls out just to refute Gryndal's claims about getting caught in neutralizers being a bad thing. She's totally fine. And then- "Oh."
The broken pieces and parts of Gryndal's armor snap back from their scattered spots. The shining golden light that had begun to seep from within return immediately - cover and encase Gryndal once more.
Korina moves to cover Aristotle yet again as Nikolai jumps in to melee this time, glancing around. "Where the fuck is Asad?" Not here, apparently. Maybe the cat-minion is napping back home. Korina cannot fault it.
Nikolai's feet crunch on the rooftop as he barrels back in towards Gryndal, with Korina protecting Aristotle, and slams the haft of his hammer down along that of the enemy's spear, forcing it away. "Eat shit," he hisses.
Aristotle, still slowed from that initial mauling, finally makes his approach to Gryndal. He's swinging out with his bat, trying to force the creature prone, before the next motion sees him swinging his bat down on it.
"Crude." Gryndal speaks slowly again, echoing his words towards Nikolai this time after a retreat. He doesn't say anything more - but the sound remains quietly somber, sober, as well as distant.
"Do you think you would taste better grilled or fried?" Korina questions, just so Gryndal has a variety of subjects to respond to, while she slashes at him with a loud crashing of steel against steel once more.
Crude's a good word for it. Nikolai's not a classy fighter - he swings a great, oversized hammer like a child's toy, and his style is straightforward and effective. The most complexity he's throwing out here are in his gadgets, and in cursing in English rather than Russian.
"Anyone else kinda curious about what this thing is?" Aristotle asks, his own question voicing out through the chaos as a curious, but still very cautious eye is given towards Gryndal, despite his closeness. "Fallen Angel or something?"
"He was flying." Korina points out, very reasonably to Aristotle. "That is not fallen." Does he really want to explain it all to her?
"Scrap metal," Nikolai announces. "I will smelt it in my forge. Make something real out of it. Fight me!"
Nikolai can't call dibs if Korina already called dibs. She gasps out loud, and re-doubles her efforts. "Killing blow gets to use it," comes the taunt for Nikolai, as though Gryndal isn't literally /right there/.
In spite of the heat of battle while Korina and Nikolai make paperweight of Gryndal, Aristotle is given a brief look. For the first time, there is a low chuckle beneath the helmet. Something rumbling, quiet an reserved that disappears. Turned upon others once again.
"No, fallen, like... not divine anymore." Aristotle says, finding an odd time to try and explain something to Korina. "I mean, it seems kinda sad." He says, as if Gryndal weren't here. "No purpose and all, y'know? I think for an angel --" he says, pausing long enough to try and grab hold of Gryndal to keep him prone. "That'd be the worst kind of outcome."
"Maybe. It does not have a collar." Korina points out, squinting like trying to figure out if Gryndal may be hiding a collar beneath all the... well, armor. "And if it was a real angel it would have let me eat it already." Checkmate?
And, Aristotle finds himself tumbling to the ground as Gryndal effortlessly shakes off his grapple. Fortunately, his bat broke his fall. Unfortunately, he's swearing as a spike hits his hand. It takes him a moment before he's scrambling up to pursue again.
Korina waits for Aristotle to move before she'll go, just to cover him.
"Only purpose an angel needs is a master to tell it what to do," Nikolai grunts - perhaps a little insensitively, given present company. His hammer rings the creature's shield like a gong where his blows are met, and when it retreats again, the Russian follows up with a brief lash of flame towards the harried thing. "Knock its fucking helmet off, Deputy."
"Perhaps if you have so many questions - Gryndal retreats yet again. Driving combat to the edge ever so slowly. "It would be more prudent to speak first." The spear is twirled, and a flame that's still barely a pinprick slams into Nikolai - doing nothing more than singing the edge of his coat. "I am here, after all - I would not deny you your will to fight after.""
"Perhaps if you have so many questions -" Gryndal retreats yet again. Driving combat to the edge ever so slowly. "It would be more prudent to speak first." The spear is twirled, and a flame that's still barely a pinprick slams into Nikolai - doing nothing more than singing the edge of his coat. "I am here, after all - I would not deny you your will to fight after."
A swing towards Gryndal's head sees the bat flying wide from its mark. Aristotle glances over to Nikolai first, voicing out, "I know this isn't the time, but Angels are perfectly valid without masters." He says, and then, he's looking over to Gryndal as it continues to push the fight closer and closer towards the edge, where only one of the beings in this group won't immediately fall off. "Hey, careful guys, we're getting a little close..."
Korina is driven almost to her knees with the force of that last blow, even if it didn't actually hit that hard. She's not wounded, just winded. "Fucker." Call her crude.
"You okay?" Aristotle asks, calling out behind him towards someone, just as she moves up to follow him.
"Blyat," Nikolai scowls. "Ari, can you throw Korina?"
"Hey!" Korina(Homo felis) yelps aloud when she's grabbed and twisted like that, attempting to scratch at Gryndal's face-helmet-thing if it wasn't /so fucking far away/. Why's he so tall.
"Please." Gryndal intones in that pained, faraway echo. "Fight more conservatively." It dares to suggests even if nearly the whole armor is chipped off of him now. Some pinpricks of red-tainted golden hues blee out, drowned out of tune - while Korina(Homo felis) is caught on the ground he was taken to, twiste to be put ahead between him and others.
Aristotle glances from Nikolai to Korina(Homo felis), before stating, "It'll take me a second to brace for that." He says.
Aristotle brings up his bat just in time to parry Gryndal's attack, but it knocks him way off balance. He hits the ground with a grunt, looking mostly alright, before pushing himself back up to his feet.
Puffing out two nostrils' worth of amusement, despite the frustration creasing his features, Nikolai asks, "What, you want me to make this about colour of your armour, monster? You can point at the Deputy, cry about police brutality." He's holding off from such brutality himself for the moment - he's not going to hit someone.
Puffing out two nostrils' worth of amusement, despite the frustration creasing his features, Nikolai asks, "What, you want me to make this about colour of your armour, monster? You can point at the Deputy, cry about police brutality." He's holding off from such brutality himself for the moment - he's not going to hit Korina(Homo felis).
Korina(Homo felis) closes her teeth around Gryndal's forearm, and immediately regrets it. "Fuck!" comes the exclamation along with the toothache, and she's finally writhing free of the creature's grasp and leaping away so she can hopefully come back and not get yoinked again.
There is a silent moment where Gryndal meets Nikolai's eyes. There is nothing but a soulless husk within his helmet - but still it is unmistakable where he looks. Some wordless exchange, where tattered protection reveals more angelic heritage beneath. He nods.
As that armor falls, revealing Gryndal's heritage, Aristotle gives him a curious stare, attacks stalling long enough to watch him for a moment. "...Wild." He says. "Huh. I wonder if what he is now is what they all turn into after a while..." No time to muse, though, as he approaches closer.
As Gryndal takes that step back, Nikolai steps forward to meet him - now separated from Korina(snow leopard), the Russian brings his hammer up, up, ready to put a proper dent in Gryndal's metal hide.