solitude { victor }

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

In an ideal situation, it would have been quiet. It would have been just her and the sun and the trees and the birds that were brave enough to stick around and watch as she trained. It would have been peaceful. But, as was often the case when it came to her life, it was not an ideal situation. Instead of being in a quiet sunlit clearing deep in the forest, she was at the edge of a man made open space in an attempt to get away from the throng of moving, sweating, fighting men - nearly solitary, but not quite. There were women there too, of course, but lots of men. With a light sigh, Amaya lifted a hand to push a lock of short dark hair behind her ear, passing the back of her hand across her forehead to rid it of the beads of perspiration that had collected there. The tip of her sword rested on the dirt as she let her stance droop in a brief moment of rest. Even as far away from the bulk of the fighters as she was, she felt like they were all too close. Too many men. Too much movement, too much noise. Too close, with too many gunshots in the background. Uncomfortable with the setting, she turned her mind from it, hefting her sword and turning back to the invisible opponent she'd been practicing against. Amaya had always been one to train alone. Others just got in the way, slowed her down; alone, she could do what she needed to do, push herself to whatever levels she liked. Her black katana cut cleanly through the air, her body following through with a set of moves she'd long ago memorized but had yet to perfect. She hit the ground, rolled, and sprang back to her feet to avoid a blow that existed only in her mind. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as she allowed the illusion to intensify, continuing with the predetermined plan until she had the tip of her sword pointed at the opponent's throat - which was, incidentally, also a small white daisy - her chest heaving as she caught her breath. With a frustrated noise, she moved away from the daisy, letting her sword droop by her side. The sequence was just not coming out right - for some reason she always faltered at the exact same spot, unable to picture exactly what move would come next from the opponent. Breathing slowly in an attempt to slow her elevated heartbeat, Amaya leaned against the rough bark of the nearest tree, tipping her head back to stare at the leaves above. What now? Her eyes shut again, briefly, as she thought, struggling to grasp what came next - in her invisible battle, in the fight against Utopia, in her life. Where do I go from here?

[/color]
[/size][/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] The clank and clatter of weapons rang out sharply in the once-quiet clearing, even the rare moments of relative silence interrupted by the hissing of insects or the loud lilting of a birdcall. The general wove his way through the melee of training soldiers, almost all of whom were locked in fierce combat, his one visible scarlet eye surveying the troops from behind the thin rims of his glasses. Every so often, he would duck a stray blade, sidestep a shot, or be forced to hastily find another route thanks to a misaimed blow, but he wordlessly pressed on, seemingly unperturbed by the many near misses, waving off the apologies when they did come with a little shake of the head and a smirk. Now and again, he would pause, offering a word of praise or bit of encouragement here and there, sometimes stepping into a sparring match to offer his aid, straightening a stance or adjusting a hold as he continued to thread his way through the throng. Lingering at the clearing's very edge, alone, was an unfamiliar young woman, petite and dark-haired, who caught his eye as he was about to turn and double back across the mock battlefield. Most of the rebels were skilled- at least those of this division- but... "Well now.." He murmured under his breath, impressed. The noisy world around her had simply ceased to exist in her mind, that was clear. She darted her way through a complex pattern of movements, each one flowing into the next with a precise, deadly grace, the black katana she gripped slicing effortlessly through the air in an obsidian blur. The first and only misstep he’d seen came as she’d made what would have been a finishing stroke. She froze before launching into a repeat of the rhythm, only to once again halt at the same point, seemingly at a loss. A frustrated little hiss escaping her lips, she let the sword fall to her side, abruptly losing herself in thought. And the general stepped forward, the chains that hung from his belt clinking softly with the movement. “You might find that a bit easier with an opponent.” A lopsided grin on his lips, he removed his hat and swiped a hand through the unruly swath of hair that dropped in a scarlet cascade to a point well past his hips, waiting for an answer with a faintly inquisitive expression. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

She started at the soft clinking noise of who-knew-what, her neck snapping upright and her gaze finding the source of the noise in mere moments. Instinctively her sword arm had came up and pointed levelly at the man's chest, her eyes hard and flinty in their defensiveness. It was, after all, her given reaction when strange men approached. Especially strange, long-haired red men who wore masks and a fedora that was now dropping to the ground, all the while grinning at her in a crooked manner that she did not understand. Quickly, though, she recognized the face, unfamiliar as it was with it, and lowered her weapon. Being a soldier of the rebellion, Amaya did have some knowledge of her superiors, and thus knew this man though she had never met him personally in her life. General Brenton. The name had always stuck out in her memory, though why she could not recall. "General." Her tone was polite in its surprise, though her eyes were still wary. His words, which she took and analyzed as she did all things, were an odd choice for a first greeting. They were somewhere between an irrefutable offer and a simple statement - she couldn't decide which. Either way, Amaya had no idea how to reply to it. She didn't exactly want his assistance - even if he was a general, he was still a man, and a stranger, neither of which she approved of - but it seemed rude to turn down a kind offer of help. Especially one that came from a superior officer. There was no way out. Torn, she spoke uncertainly, not sure how to address someone she felt such immediate hatred and respect for. "That's very kind of you,"

[/i] She began, stammering just slightly in the beginning, taking note of it, and going on with a forcibly stronger tone. "But that's really not necessary..."[/i]

She watched him, in the same scrutinizing manner as she usually did. She could only hope he'd get the meaning behind her words and leave, but if she thought about it, she couldn't remember a single circumstance when the General had backed down easily. In fact, as she remembered it, he was known for his stubborn perseverance. Great. Just great.[/color]
[/size][/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] There was a sort of ferocity in the woman's pitch-black eyes at first, the wordless warning as she leveled the sword directly at his heart clearer even than if she'd spoken it aloud. He raised his gloved hands in a sort of submission, shaking his head slightly as he halted his approach, emphasizing the fact that he was no threat-- or trying to. The general wasn't a man who could easily appear unintimidating, regardless of his behavior, what with his considerable height and fiery hair. She seemed to regard him closely, the tiniest flicker of recognition flickering across her otherwise inscrutable facade, gone as quickly as it had appeared. But the blade immediately fell to her side, and when she finally spoke, her tone wasn't the one of calm defiance he'd expected, some of the hostility draining from her gaze, leaving the general to marvel at the sudden, abrupt change- and wonder just what had brought it about. Had she guessed who he was, perhaps? He'd never met her... but nonetheless... The title in her greeting confirmed the speculation at long last, and he nodded acknowledgement. "I'm afraid I don't know your name." Was the almost apologetic reply she received, accompanied by that smile- he did try his best to remember every name he'd heard- but he couldn't make the connection between any of the many faceless names and this nameless face. Somehow, her attempt at a polite refusal didn't come as a surprise- there was a certain rigidity to her stance as she studied him, a carefully-guarded wariness in her eyes, the feel that her impassive expression was more of a shield than anything else. This, it seemed, was a woman who didn't take kindly to strangers. But the general remained where he was, hands falling to his hips, and waited to address that matter. He'd posed a half-question with the admittance, and he paused to see if she'd bother to answer. He wouldn't bully her into accepting his company-- if he wasn’t welcome here, he’d move along. But right now, he simply waited for a response. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

Amaya didn't like the way he was looking at her. Unlike most, who gave usually gave her an odd look and rushed off, not wanting to have anything to do with the weird dark-haired loner, he had an air of... observing. Trying to interpret her actions and words and self. It put her on edge. It was too much like analyzing battle opponents for her liking. Not that she thought he was going to attack her. This was a general, after all. Although that's what she'd thought last time, too. With an effort of will, Amaya shoved the skeptical thoughts from her mind. He was a general, and despite her wariness of him, she would show the proper respect, as would any rebel soldier. Absorbed in ensuring anything that came out of her mouth would be polite, she nearly missed the question, half-hidden as it was. Apparently this man didn't like asking things outright. "Amaya." She answered him at last, attempting to keep the reluctance from her tone and not completely succeeding. Her name was something she didn't like to give out if she didn't have to; it was her whole identity, wrapped up into one word, and once someone had it they knew her, if only marginally. "Amaya Saga."

[/i]She glanced up at him hesitantly, not sure how to continue the conversation. She'd never been a particularly social creature, and was all together feeling very out of place beside this red-haired man who seemed to dwarf her with his sheer person, both in personality and in size.

Awkwardly, Amaya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sheathing her sword in a quick, practiced motion. Usually she'd keep it out, but after greeting him so defensively, she thought it best that it was out of sight. She stood there for a few seconds, still at a loss, before deciding to speak, so he wouldn't think her rude. "And you're... General Brenton?" She asked at last, figuring she might as well clarify.[/size][/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] Amaya Saga. He ran the name through the neat archives of his mind quickly, and it was indeed familiar, if only slightly-- not enough that he'd have matched it to her right away had he been left to puzzle it out on his own, but enough that it sounded absolutely right once the swordswoman spoke it aloud. There was a certain way a person's true name fit them, as if it was a puzzle piece that matched its owner neatly. Perhaps this existed only to him- but an anomaly or not, it did make names easier to remember. Her dark eyes studied him unflinchingly, carefully, though a taint of unease half-hidden in the ink-black pools resurfaced every time he shifted or glanced her way, however subtle he tried to make his movements- as if she was perpetually on guard, ready to strike at the first sign of a threat. He'd no doubt that she could and would, either, after seeing the fluid, lightning-fast grace with which she wielded that weapon, and the way her first reaction, immediately, had been to aim it at his heart. Definitely not a woman who took kindly to strangers. She was making an admirable attempt, however, shown by the way she answered his question, relunctant as she had clearly been, the hesitance seeping into her calm, even tone, and the way she had asked a question of her own, perhaps in an attempt to keep the sparse conversation alive. A quick nod affirmed her assumption and he softened the careful analysis of his gaze in an attempt to set her at ease. "I am, I'm sorry. Should've introduced myself first. It's a pleasure to meet you, though." A short pause, and then, "And you're really very skilled." The general added lightly, offhandedly voicing his clear approval, that easy smile finding its way onto his face again. A cool breeze sliced its way easily through the muggy day, sending strands of their hair, ebony black and bright scarlet, respectively, dancing in the gust. He trapped his hat with the toe of one boot before it could follow the scattering of litter and leaves that vanished over the hilltop, picking it up and holding it loosely for lack of anywhere else to put it besides back on his head. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

He seemed to take the name and spend the time to memorize it, putting it to her face, conjuring up a few quick details that, if needed, could give an accurate description of her. Naturally, she wasn't too fond of that; but, she supposed it might be alright for a general to have better knowledge of his soldiers. Even if she wasn't in his division - or any division at all, for that matter - having a general know her semi-personally couldn't be a bad thing. Or at least, that's what she told herself. It made her feel a little better about the situation. But not by much. The next words to leave his mouth, however, made her stiffen in surprise, her dark eyes widening just a tad. He, a general, had both amended for not introducing himself further - adding on a polite 'pleasure to meet you,' no less - and even gone to the length of complimenting her skills. Her surprise was such that, for a brief moment, Amaya actually settled on the conclusion that he was lying to be nice. Not many people were interested in her or her skills, after all; they were usually all too willing to ignore her and all her defensive manners. He, on the other hand... Rationality kicked in and she dismissed the notion of his telling a lie. It certainly didn't sound like one - and she would know, unless he was a very good liar. That was also possible, but for once Amaya decided to give a man the benefit of the doubt. It was very out of character for her, but she went with it before she could dwell a second longer. "Thank you."

[/i]Was the first thing that left her lips, in a sort of faintly awed tone she realized too late, clamping her mouth shut with an embarrassed sideways glance. She had never been sure how to respond to compliments, and apparently that skill continued to evade her. "Uh..." The unintelligent, stalling noise was out before she had the thought to stop it, and with a frustrated exhale, the warrior reckoned that for some reason this man left her without words. He was a complicated creature to her, half the despicable, hated being her instincts screamed at her to be wary of, and half unknown, kind person she was curious to know about.

Not wanting to embarrass herself further with stupid comments, she kept her mouth closed, reaching up to brush a lock of short dark hair away from her face where the wind had moved it with her gaze flickering between the grass to her right and the general.

To trust, or not to trust? That was the question, and she was utterly out of solutions. She could, of course, judge him, in a way - let him train with her, decide if he seemed good enough. But that would be so strange for her, and if she decided she didn't approve of him and shrank back to her reclusive self, what if he took it that they would be acquaintances of sorts? What did she do then? [/size]
[/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] The awe in her tone embarrased him nearly as much as it did her, a decidedly odd expression flickering across his face. For a brief second, the cold wariness had faded from her eyes to be replaced with something else entirely, something that he couldn't quite recognize, and he hesitated for an instant before responding. "You're welcome." Silence fell, a decidedly awkward one, and the general opened his mouth to speak- uncertain even as he did of what he was going to say. However, he was spared from having to improvise by an abrupt, earsplitting yowl that shattered the afternoon's relative silence. A split second of clicking and rustling was the only other warning given, and then a streak of bloodied white fur had barreled from a treetop in a stunning leap, inch-long claws outstretched and gleaming, diamondlike, in the bright sunlight as the creature dove for the two rebels. Reacting with the skill that had won him his position, Victor raised an arm seconds before a pair of snapping fangs would have met at his throat. He batted the snarling creature back with his left forearm, his right hand freeing a silver revolver from the holster strapped to his thigh and priming it in a single smooth, liquid motion. The bristling cat- that was what it seemed to be, a cat- of some sort- was dispatched with a single, carefully-angled shot even as it fervently clawed at him. The general took two steps back, inspecting the deep furrows that raked their way down his shoulder, the gashes torn into both sides of his arm, and the trio of cuts that lined his cheek where one of the wildly slashing paws had caught him before gazing at the creature cautiously. Ascertaining that it was dead before stepping closer, he arched a brow, eyes glinting unreadably as he examined their would-be attacker. It was indeed a feline- in the loosest sense of the term. The drawn-back lips, now forever frozen in a hateful grimace, revealed razor-sharp fangs far too many and far too large for the small mouth, mismatched as if they'd once belonged to a multitude of different creatures. It couldn't be a cougar or anything of the sort- the fur was long, thick, and pure snowy white, spattered in places with what seemed to be blood- but it was far too large to be a domestic feline. And most significantly, a wicked-looking metal collar had been fastened tightly around its neck. A low hiss of breath escaped his lips as he dropped to his knees, brushing matted white fur aside to better examine the cruel contraption. "This has to be DOSE." His tone was one of grim resolve, one that stated something that could only be fact, and his grip on the revolver tightened as he spoke. Every rustle, every snap, and every little sound the woods made now carried an ominous weight-- each harmless noise a foreboding hint that there might be more. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

The silence was stretching on, until it seemed it that every passing millisecond was an eternity and she was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into a dark black pit with every year. Shifting her weight again, the dark haired swordsman began to idly carve a hole in the ground with the toe of her boot. He didn't seem to know what to say either, and that really threw her off. If he, the social one, didn't, how could she possibly? Her eyes were so fixed on the upturned dirt by her foot that she actually did lose all senses of awareness for a moment. So, when the sharp animal scream pierced the awkward bubble surrounding the two soldiers, she was unprepared. So unprepared that her brain didn't even register the threat and her sword arm stayed lifelessly by her side. Only her eyes moved, tracking the red and white blur as it moved from one place to the next with a sort of stunned wonder. And then everything clicked. Instinct took over, and within the second her katana was in hand, her body in an almost feral crouch of a stance as it prepared to take on whatever might come. If it had been anyone but the general, Amaya knew she'd be facing the creature herself; but as it was, General Brenton of the rebellion knew what he was doing. The thing - she couldn't bring herself to think of it any other way - was on the ground in a mere moment, dispatched by a single shot. The fact that the opponent was dead did nothing for her wariness. Still poised lightly on the balls of her feet, her gaze swept the front which had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago. Seeing no other pursuers - yet, anyway - she lowered her sword and turned to her fellow rebel. He hadn't gone completely without injury, that was for sure. She observed the scratches on his arm and cheek with a fleeting glance, then her eyes too dropped to the felled creature. It appeared to be a horrible mash of creatures; its shape was cat-like, but its fur too long and claws to sharp, with a horrid array of mismatched teeth. She'd only just noticed the collar when he spoke, his voice loud in the silence following the cat's suicidal attack. "DOSE..."

[/i] She repeated, half in a murmur. The name was one she had hated ever since she was eleven. She could still feel the probing fingers, see the reflective glint of glasses that hid true eyes as they looked her over, discerning at last that she was not suitable for whatever horrible thing they had in mind. Her grip on the katana tightened before she forced herself to react, letting the battle Amaya take over.

"Do you think..." [/i]She began, her gaze finding the forest again before she abruptly stopped. It was a stupid question. This was DOSE they were dealing with - of course there were more. She looked to the general, ready to do whatever he required of her. Man or not, he was in charge; and following orders was something she did no matter what.
[/size]
[/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] The general's single visible scarlet eye, glinting alertly, never left the distant line of trees as he searched for any signs of movement and found absolutely none. Confident in their safety- for the moment- he turned his mind briefly to their strategy and to the dark-eyed woman who was now gazing up at him expectantly, her expression grim and her posture rigid. He looked much the same, his posture defensive, his eyes narrowed, his grip on his revolver tight. From what the cat had just done, he deemed it safe to assume that DOSE's latest pets, whatever the things were, lacked any ability to rationalize or plan-- After all, had the insane feline used even a bit of stealth, it likely would have been the victor of the little battle they had just waged. The two rebels had been unguarded and unawares, weapons at their sides rather than in hand. It had had the element of surprise on its side and failed to fully utilize it. The thought that in any other circumstances, they wouldn't have escaped so lightly was a decidedly dark one to accept and not one he wanted to dwell on, but the realization behind it was comforting enough. These monsters could be outthought, if nothing else. Sweeping locks of scarlet hair away from his right eye and dabbing at the sticky blood trickling down his cheek, he quickly scanned the perimeter. The hastily-erected barrier around the camp should protect it for the moment- the greatest danger lay where they stood- at one of the entrances. Unholstering a second revolver, twin to the first, he gripped the heavy firearms tightly and held them at the ready. A sudden upheaval of snapping and rustling, interspersed with other sounds, hoarse growls and snarls and who-knew-what, jerked his intent focus back to the trees ahead. There could very well be hundreds of them. They were following the scent of blood, he was certain- blood from their fallen comrade and his own. A burst of adrenaline wove its way through his veins and he raised the two guns, expression stiffening. "We need to guard this entrance. With their numbers, if they manage to get past us- into the compound- we'll be trapped. Everyone will. We're outnumbered- our only advantage is that they don't seem to think. They're driven by bloodlust, from what I've seen. Use that however you will." With that brief, concise explanation, he moved to stand beside her. And they waited. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

The intent expression on his face was completely unlike the jovial man who had been standing before her a mere minute or two before; his gaze had hardened with alertness, as any good warrior's did, his tone and even the way he stood changing subtly to an offensive stance. Something of the way he'd looked at her before, that sharp observant quality, was still there, and Amaya decided that as probing as it might be, she was glad for it. It was always better to have a watchful ally than a lazy one, all personal conflicts set aside. The orders, when they came, were clear and concise, well thought out and decidedly true. It was pretty darn close to what she would have said - if she were in charge, that was, which of course she wasn't. Jobs like that were for people like him: bold, stand-out, social. She exhaled softly as she pivoted to face the forest head on, the sound less exhaustion than annoyance. It was true, really: she was annoyed, just slightly, by the problem. Annoyed at DOSE for inventing new things every day, annoyed at the government for not admitting to even the slightest reform, annoyed at the threat, grave as it may be - annoyed at the whole world, really. There was another loud snapping noise, and she blinked back to attention. There was nothing there, not yet, just the sounds of the approach. And, she noticed with a sort of faint surprise, the general had moved and was now standing beside her, uncomfortably close. She forced her singing nerves to lie still, convincing herself yet again that he was no threat, especially with the current situation. He was just an ally, just an armed person standing next to her, fighting alongside. To be trusted, if marginally. To divert her thoughts further, Amaya glanced over at him, her sword still ready in her hand. There was one part of the plan that needed, in her mind, clarifying. "The others." She said, the words she'd meant to be a complete sentence coming out as a simple two words. "I mean, is it worth telling them yet?"

[/i]

Yet. The word had slipped out without her meaning to, and in it were all the doubts and worries she didn't want to share. Was she scared for her life? Not necessarily. But she was aware that should even a few sneak past them, the camp would be caught unawares - and thus the lives of innocents whose skills were not as honed as the general's might be claimed. Some had already become aware of a disturbance, she knew that, as the sounds of training behind them had lost a few of its heavy breathing, sword clanging and gun shooting noises.

She ignored the questioning glances she knew would be there, and just when she opened her mouth to point out something else, there was a harshly unpleasant, feral noise - something between a throaty howl and a rasping cough, she thought - and a dark shape was suddenly before her, teeth bared.

Without even registering what it was or might be, Amaya moved, the point of her blade ripping through the flesh of its underside and sweeping outwards, a stream of blood arching after the black weapon and landing with a sick splattering noise on the grass.

Disgusted, though her black eyes showed nothing but a cold detachment and a hint of that persistent annoyance, the soldier stepped forward and prodded the thing with the tip of the sword. It was still alive, pitifully clinging to life, its mouth parted as it panted for breath.

It was a dog. Having never been familiar with pets, she couldn't be sure what it was exactly, but it appeared normal enough, and for a moment she feared she'd killed an innocent thing. Its black fur was short and glossy where it wasn't stained with blood, marked here and there with spots of brown - but its dark eyes, which watched her as she stared at it, assured her it was not a natural being. They were dull, hopeless eyes, like those of a person who suffered from one of the few diseases Utopia had yet to cure.

As she watched, it jolted once, as if electrocuted, before going completely still. She backed of immediately, halting beside the general in her original spot without a second glance. It was dead, and something about its death was eerily wrong, in such a way that it disturbed even her, the cold killer who couldn't care less. What on Earth had DOSE done now?[/size]
[/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] The general nodded briskly, impressed that she'd taken note- and impressed that she had voiced her opinion. "You're right, they do- but only once we're sure how many there are. I don't want to start a panic for-" He was about to explain further when his words were cut short, the momentary quiet destroyed by the dog's sudden, baying charge. The snarling creature was easily felled by Amaya- there was no surprise there. It hit the grass with a gut-wrenching thump, blood still pouring from the deep wound in its underbelly and pooling in the grass. It didn't seem to be any specific breed, though the sheer size of it, the black-and-brown fur, and the stocky, muscular shape suggested that it might have been a Rottweiler. As he watched, Amaya took a step or two forward and poked at the heaving creature lightly. Though it was in its death throes, it raised its flickering eyes to gaze almost forlornly at the two rebels. And as it drew its last shuddering, gasping breath, the look in those ink-dark eyes sent an icy chill trickling down the length of his spine. It was an all-too-human expression and one he was all-too-familiar with, bleak and speaking quite clearly of suffering and misery. He looked on, surprise and uncertainity flickering across his battle-darkened expression. The dog flinched one last time, quite unnaturally, and fell silent. So did the rebels. The situation prompted something, but the general, abnormal as it was for him, was quite thoroughly lost for words. Amaya, never one for words anyway, had nothing to say, though her black eyes held a subtle hint of unease as he turned to gaze at her. The sharp stinging of the deep slices in his cheek, arm, and shoulder finally registered, though he spared them no glance-- now wasn't the time-- and merely hoped that those wickedly curved claws hadn't held poison. (It had, after all, been a creature created by DOSE- it wouldn't surprise him in the least.) Seemingly undeterred by both the cat's and the dog's failures, a sudden flurry of horrific creatures, horrifically twisted, broken and distorted, broke past the cover of the forest- each acting on its own. Even as they charged, a few decided that comrades would make easier prey and ignored the rebels to turn on each other. Most, however, set their sights on the humans and forged on, hindered as they were by limps and wounds and the like. Most of them were recognizable, if rather distorted, the savage, predatory version of a familiar animal. But some of them were an unimaginable, nightmarish mishmash of species and breeds, every one of them with fangs and claws. The matter of whether this particular creature should have had fangs and claws seemed to have been utterly disregarded. A few here and there were further armed, bearing everything from wickedly-curved horns to a jagged array of spikes. Somewhere in the distance, he spotted a shaggy, four-legged creature with a barbed, armored tail resembling a scorpion's. These creatures clearly had a singular purpose. To kill. As the swarm closed in, snapping and swiping with a desperate, furious intensity, killing intent flickering in every set of eyes, Victor began firing, his movements rapid and mechanical, managing to keep a steady hail flickering through the air- the sound of gunfire only died for a few brief seconds here and there, now and again, as he paused for an instant to reload. Under any other circumstances, he would hesitate to kill so immediately and indescriminately-- but to these creatures, he suspected that it was a mercy. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down

[rs=2]

He seemed as unnerved as she was - which, surprisingly, was somehow comforting to her in the midst of it all. The fact that a powerful, ranked warrior was even slightly perturbed as well assured her that she wasn't simply losing her cool. The death was unnatural, and that pushed her even closer to the precipice of fear. He'd never quite finished his answer to her question, but the gist of it was yet another logical, precise reason that she wholeheartedly agreed with. To spread a panic throughout the camp was no good thing; men would turn on men, and there would be a stench of fear in the air that would do nothing for the situation. She was just about to say something else - odd, for a man to have gotten so many words out of her within a few minutes, though she supposed his rank and the current, ah, problem were good motivators - when the next wave struck. Immediately she went into autopilot, her body moving itself through practiced patterns and movements without her conscious mind's orders, as if it too wanted to rid these creatures from the world as quickly as possible. Amaya let it, the dark battle instincts taking control as her thoughts switched to the matter she found more pressing: figuring out what the creatures were, and how to stop them. Ignorant to the world around her, she made her way into the fray, weaving through the throng of sickly bodies and eliminating them with every flash of her black blade. The general's gunshots ringing in the background caused her little worry; she was too focused on the battle at hand, and some small part of her unconscious memory had already made the decision to trust General Victor Brenton's aim, if nothing else. She'd just turned to face her next opponent, an oversized parakeet that scattered bloody feathers with every flap of its wings, when she realized something. The connection between all the creatures was, besides the distortions, that agonized glint in their eyes as they lunged stupidly for her throat and chest, ignorant of the shining blade that stopped them every time. Normal creatures were smarter than that, even simple household pets. Which meant something had been done to them - okay, that was obvious - and something that had better results than losses. This was DOSE, after all. They sought out things like power and bloodlust, but as far as Amaya knew stupidity wasn't on their list. Well, maybe. If it made them easier to control. Frustrated at her lack of understanding, her next blow went wild, missing the bird's neck entirely and only barely grazing its chest. It shrieked at her, a high pitched noise that must have been modified to be especially deafening because it completely destroyed any sense of hearing she might have had, and in an effort to get it to shut up her sword swung again. This time it hit its mark, and the noise died off. Her head still ringing and her hearing still fading in and out, Amaya looked around the battle field and stared. There were dead bodies littering the ground, all of them of the grotesquely mutilated kind that had become common with the newest enemies. The soldiers nearest her had stopped and were staring, looking uncertain about whether to come help or not. Others still trained, the noise of their own battle cutting out the one she was fighting. She turned back to the battle just as a new creature ran at her, its species impossible to tell thanks to the large chunks of skin that kept flaking off of it. In some places it had come off so much that sinewy muscle and hints of white bone were visible where blood didn't obscure the picture. Taken aback by the creature's affliction, her blade hesitated once more before moving, though not fast enough; the thing's teeth had already pierced her arm by the time her wits came about her. Muttering swears under her breath, Amaya yanked its jaws away carefully to minimize the damage, cussing even more as she observed the injury - and on her sword arm, nonetheless. It was nothing major, four shallow holes in her arm, with only one tooth that had come close to the muscle. And that tooth was still there, lying innocently in her arm, too deep for her to feel safe reaching in and grabbing it, but too close to the surface for her to just keep fighting. She snapped out another, rather unladylike, swear and switched hands, so she was fighting with the sword in her left - and worse - arm. "Stupid." She muttered to herself as she speared the next victim clumsily. "Just how many of you idiots are there?"

[/color][/size][/div][/td][/tr]
[tr][td]

-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B --

lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[VICTOR BRENTON]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l517/obsidianabyss/burntpaper.jpg); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #f1ca97, bTable][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; color: #800000; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: -10px; padding: 5px 30px 1px 5px;]Do or die, you'll never make me[/style][style=font-family: harrington; text-align: right; color: #00000; letting-spacing: 1px; line-height: 5px; padding: 0px 15px 5px 0px;]Though you try, you'll never break me.[/style][style=float: right; width: 270; padding: 10px; height: 310px; overflow: auto; background-color: #E3D5BF; opacity: 0.4; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #808000; font: 10px verdana; color: #000000; text-align: justify;] Shrieks and snarls rang out, deafening in their close proximity. The general's focus was single-minded, one of eliminating the threat before them thoroughly and entirely, of protecting the camp and the rebels who stood just behind them. He was aware that some had frozen, staring at the battle being waged mere yards away, their weapons still in hand. Without taking his eyes off the advancing army of DOSE's pets, he, gave what orders he could. "If you're able to, help us keep these back. If you aren't, find those who can. And don't blow this out of porportion when you do. We'll all be fine." The words were surprisingly calm and concise, considering. A few of the rebels scurried off to do just that, while a small handful leapt into the fray. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized just how well they had been doing up until this moment, with their odds taken into account-- two rebels, surrounded by a swarm of bloodthirsty monsters absolutely intent upon killing them. They were the ideal team. Victor kept the larger of the beasts at bay-- felling as many as possible the instant they stepped from the woods. The nearer ones, the quicker ones, and the ones within reach, were quickly met with Amaya's blade, a deadly black blur that sliced effortlessly through the heated air. A particularly large thing, part deer and part crocodile, it seemed, dove for the general. The long snout, mottled with bristly brown fur and green scales, snapped furiously as the creature reared back. Heavy, sharp hooves whistled through the air, one dealing a crushing blow to his already-injured right shoulder. Victor kept his footing in spite of the impact, spinning and knocking the deer-thing off-balance with a sharp kick, forcing it to come down onto all fours. A single shot dispatched it, and he then spared the other soldiers a quick glance. They were all holding their own, particularly Amaya, who was even now finishing off a bright green bird with a single neat sword stroke. But the tiny grin faded from his lips as a particularly gruesome creature, bits of bloodied skin flaying and dropping from its half-skeletal body with each and every move it made, lunged forward and sank sharp fangs into her forearm. She dispatched it quickly enough, but blood dripped from her arm and the sword was soon in her other hand. Skirting his way through the densely-packed throng, he gunned down several of the advancing creatures. The swarm had thinned now, only a few still fighting. Most lay, dead or otherwise incapacitated, in the grass. Not a single one had retreated. The realization-- coupled with their earlier behavior-- would require consideration, but not now. As the final few fell, he stepped over the carcass of what seemed to be a boar, holstered one of the revolvers- the other remained in hand in case of any stragglers- and turned to survey the injuries. Most of the others had been fighting for only a few minutes, scratches and bruises the worst they had sustained. They had clustered together and were gazing at the general expectantly. Once he had ascertained that they were all right, with a quick nod and "Thank you all." He dismissed them, taking careful note of each face. They garnered some sort of special recognition, once the opportunity presented itself. Amaya- and himself- had taken the brunt of the damage, it seemed. His shoulder ached, and he could see the gleaming ivory of a curved fang still half-buried in the flesh of her arm. [/style][style=float: left;] [/style]

[atrb=style, height: 80px; overflow: auto; border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px; border-color: #000000; font-family: verdana; color: #800000; text-align: justify; padding: 5px;]TAG,~ ~ ~ LYRIC,~ ~ ~ NOTES,~ ~ ~ CREDIT,made by LUCI of OTE. steal & die. ; Edited by Maeka of Defrauding Fate.

[AMAYA SAGA]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background-image: url(http://i39.tinypic.com/357khus.jpg;); border: 0px solid #000000, bTable][tr][cs=2] but if you wait for someone else's hand then surely you will fall down
[rs=2]	The reinforcements, when they came, were a great help. At the general's orders - stated so calmly and confidently despite the horror scene playing out around them that even she had to acknowledge it - they added their own strength to the winning side, quickly taking down the rest of the creatures until no more ran from the woods. There was nothing left of the attack but the scattered bodies littering the ground, each tossed carelessly aside after being taken care of. Normally, Amaya would have been slightly bothered by the help. Usually she'd rather take care of things herself. But right now, she couldn't care less. In fact, she nearly - nearly - smiled with relief when she heard the extra gunshots that added on to the general's. She dispatched the last three of her opponents with a long, low horizontal slash that severed the muscles in their forelegs and rendered them useless. She would finish them off later. She turned to glance around, realized the rest of the enemies were gone, and walked towards the general, holding the elbow of her injured arm to prevent the tooth from getting jostled around. They had a lot to talk about, the two of them. Stopping a few feet away, she surveyed him for any large injuries, as she would to any of her fighting partners. The scratches on his face and arm were still there, and his shoulder seemed to have taken another blow. The injured arm hung limply, and she had a feeling that while not completely broken, there would be some healing involved for him. The soldiers who had come to their assistance moved away after a moment, and soon it was just her and the general, standing remarkably close to where they had been before the unprecedented turn of events. She tipped her chin back to meet his gaze, her dark eyes appearing a shade darker than usual after everything she'd just witnessed. For a moment she let the silence hang there, giving herself and him - she wasn't sure if he even needed it, but she certainly did - the opportunity to recover from the assault. She scrutinized his red eyes as if somehow he would have the answer to all her questions hidden there, then sighed lightly and looked away, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Of course he wouldn't know. If eyes held all the answers she would have gotten her revenge long ago. He was just a mortal man, same as any. And for once, she didn't mean that as an insult. She lifted her gaze back to his, forcing calm into her expression, though the part of her not yet hardened by life was screaming for an emotional release of some sort: crying, swearing, screaming uselessly at the world, going around mutilating mutilated bodies even more, something other than standing there like an untouchable rock. She said nothing, just looking at him wordlessly. There were so many questions that she preferred to hear what he had to say before she started asking, before she even started to hint at what had happened.
-- THIS TABLE IS BY SKY OF L2B -- lyrics by ingrid michaelson

[/font][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]