Ellowyn had seen the knife coming, and had dodged out of the way just in time. The knife had imbedded in the Racer, inches from her nose, and she brushed some of her short hair from her face, scowling. Although she couldn't see her hair, she could feel it, and it was annoying her.
Busybody. Why couldn't he leave her to do this herself? She didn't care if she died or not. But he was a big help eliminating the creatures, and was helping the citizens.
But still.
With a crash, she sent a tent collapsing down onto a Racer's head, knocking it out with the heavy weight at the top, and smothering several others. She stomped on the lumps in the tarp that had been their faces, ignoring the squish and crunch of breaking bones.
(gory warning) /// not sure if you care or not, but I put the warning anyway
Lucas noted her somewhat brutal fighting style. Anything he could do to further research the long forgotten hero was legendary to him— being basically a fanboy himself. He had finally come to terms with that characteristic, trying to deny it for many years. Though everyone he knew described him that way. The biggest fan of the greatest hero. Well, greatest in his opinion.
He shot out a few more knives, his body much more relaxed. He kept them all at a far off distance, not bothering to let them get any closer. He wasn’t really a “flying colors in close combat” kind of person, but didn’t mind a bloodstain on his clothes here and there. As long as the blood wasn’t his.
Just for the sake of it, he let a racer get closer. Taking out a few on the far end, he turned his attention to the one on hand. He took out two subsequent daggers, his own blood running through their engravings. A mechanic he had invented himself. The handles would stick needles into his skin, automatically drawing his blood to infuse the daggers. Thus, why he could do this:
Within an instant, Lucas spun around, bandana still tightly woven around his eyes. As he slashed down, he teleported the blade of the daggers through the racer’s chest, watching as the two blades stuck out of its back. No wounds plagued the front of it, but the thick metallic fluid spilled from its back. Lucas flipped the daggers, the end of the hilts still in his hand, yanking them back out with all the force he could muster. Bits of the racer’s tough skin and flesh went airborne, bouncing off of his own arms harmlessly. Though, the blood dotted his face and blindfold, like a diminutive constellation of crimson. He spun the blades in his hands, watching it’s lifeless body fall to the floor. Lucas sheathed the two daggers, wiping the alien’s blood from the side of his mouth.
(The more gore, the better!)
A Racer charged toward her, and Ellowyn flashed out of view, darting to the side. But the creature seemed to predict her every move, and she cursed. A Finder. No matter that she was invisible, it would find her. She would have a tough time defeating it, as it could read her every thought.
But then a knife came from out of nowhere and stabbed it in the chest, killing the Finder, and then leaving. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. So maybe it was a good thing that the guy was helping her.
She sprang back into action, the tent pole a blur of motion. She slammed it into one of the heads, and it caved in with a crunch, blood spraying everywhere, the brains splattering all over Ellowyn's new clothes. She scowled. This was not her favorite, having to get dirty. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and rammed the end of the pole through another Racer's chest, blinking out of view and leaving the pole in.
She looked around, and noticed that there were only a few of the creatures left. Bodies littered the market grounds.
(Do you want to continue the roleplay? Or do you mind if I do a reboot with someone else?)
