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originally posted in:The New Dojo
5/23/2017 2:34:40 AM
152
[b][i]You'd Better Run[/i][/b]
[i]"I seen 'em come, and I seen 'em go,
I seen things and been people, that nobody knows
I'm talking in pictures and I'm painting them black,
I seen Satan coming honey in a big black Cadillac"
-Motörhead [/i]
[b]Outside of the Dojo Gates, 10:22 PM[/b]
[i]The night had been one of torrential downpour and whipping wind, a strange and admittedly rare occurrence for the Dojo considering its location. Sentries paced about their usual routes, being beaten with rain and lashed by the wind. The wall, despite being lit up as it was every night, was hard to see through the driving rain. The moon was obscured behind the heavy rain clouds, the only light aside from the Dojo coming from the occasional lightning strike.
Through the storm, however, a small feminine figure approached the Dojo gates, forcing herself into what looked like a pained jog, a German shepherd by her side, the dog soaking wet and muddy, just like her. She wore a pair of boots that looked ready to fall off of her feet, a pair of leather pants and a leather jacket, an old Mexican-style poncho thrown over her shoulders. On her back, a lever-action rifle, at her hip, an ivory-handled Colt .45 revolver. A gunbelt crossed her waist, and she had a bag slung over her shoulder, what looked to be an ancient mailman's pouch.
Several knives sat atop her left forearm. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, mud and blood matting it. The front of her poncho was stained with blood, her jacket and shirt torn just below her chest, a bloody wound across her stomach. Both legs and arms looked to be lacerated as well in several places. Her left eye was blackened, blood running from her nose, mixing with the mud and water on her face. Reaching the gates, she collapsed into a large puddle, her dog standing watch over her, barking up at the gate.[/i]
[spoiler]Open.[/spoiler]
English
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Edited by gizmonster: 5/24/2017 12:58:55 PMIgnore this
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No bby plz
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[i]The dojo gates swung open. It was a man who had opened the gates, one who stood at a height of 5'11". His hair was shaggy, and jet black; the pouring rain plastered it to his head, soaked his face and skin. His eyes were a dark green; hid away in those pupils was a hurricane of emotions. Anger, sorrow, sadness, insanity. For his apparel, the man wore a black trench coat, which ended just below his knees. His black combat pants and boots were covered in mud, not as much as the woman was, however. His shirt was a plain, military green t-shirt, completely drenched in rainwater to give it a dark color. He wore a black, skintight glove on each hand, their purpose clearly not for warmth. On the man's back was a long greatsword; about four and a half feet in length, the material used to make it was undeterminable. The blade was silver in appearance, with a streak of gold running down its center. It had a sleek, futuristic look to it, but was just a sword. An admittedly large sword. Holstered at his left side was a handgun. The holster was dark brown, and soaked with rainwater as well; the only part of the handgun that was visible was its handle, which had a white and gunmetal gray color scheme. Hung beside the holster were two foldable knives, folded inwards; they appeared silver, but once again, their true material was undeterminable. At his right side was a rifle, about 18" in length. Its color scheme was gunmetal gray and a lighter gray, arranged around the rifle in a rather futuristic yet bland pattern. The man looked at the fainted woman and the dog, before slowly approaching the canine. There was no hostility in his stance as he pulled a glove off his right hand; he extended the hand towards the dog, allowing the dog to give him a sniff. Meanwhile, he looked at the woman, looking over any wounds she had; he was no medic, but he'd suffered plenty of wounds himself, and had a vague idea as to how to take care of them.[/i]
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[i]The dog growled angrily, tucking low over its master, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. The woman on the ground looked to be in her early twenties at most. A gash crossed her stomach from the bottom of her chest to her pelvis, and her legs and arms bore several lacerations as well, blood running into the mud and water. Her face looked rough, a black eye, bloodied nose, and a cut across her check. That was only what he could see, and she quite possibly could have had more injuries. [/i]
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Edited by Diase: 5/24/2017 3:23:48 AM"That looks bad...." [i]The man muttered, then looked at the dog. His hand was still extended towards the German shepherd, for the first thing he learned about dogs was to let them smell your hand when meeting a new one. If the need arose, the man was able to cauterize the woman's wounds using a folded knife and his green flames, but he'd need to get her inside the dojo and out of the rain first... and to do that, he'd need to gain the canine's trust.[/i]
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[i]The dog carried on growling for a minute or so before deciding to sniff his hand. After sniffing him, the shepherd backed off for a moment, watching him intently, as if daring him to harm her, but allowing him a chance to help her. It appeared that the dog understood that this man was willing to aid his master.[/i]
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[i]The man smiled, then made haste. The first order of business was to get the woman out of the torrential rain; slowly, he slid one arm under her knees, the other on her back, and picked her up, with clearly enhanced strength. He looked back at the German Shepard, making sure this action didn't anger the dog, while walking backwards into the dojo.[/i]
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[i]Rather than attack, the dog followed him, still watching him suspiciously. The woman was light, particularly for a man with enhanced strength.[/i]
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[i]The man weaved through the halls and rooms of the dojo until he found an empty room. It was dimly lit, had a sofa, table, television, and a carpeted floor. The man laid the woman down on the sofa, and took off his trench coat, revealing a decently muscular right arm and the fact that his entire left arm was a cybernetic one. He took off his gloves, closely examining the many wounds on the woman's body. Slowly, he began to remove the woman's soaked clothing for two reasons; first of all, to get a better look at her wounds, and secondly, to avoid her catching illnesses such as pneumonia. Soon, enough clothing was off so the man could easily see all of the woman's wounds, not just the most obvious ones; provided mud did not cover them. He began to slightly worry for the woman's appearance after he was done cauterizing wounds.[/i]
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[i]With her clothing off and her wounds visible, it was clear that much more was wrong with her. Her entire back was laced with lashes from a whip, the skin nearly flayed from her back. The gash across her torso, the one on her face, and those on her arms and legs were covered in mud and dried blood. Dried blood from her nose made a pattern on her upper lip. Her feet were nearly raw from the distance she had ran, and her hands sported many small cuts, from what looked like barbed wire. She was not in good shape, and how she ever made it to the Dojo was a miracle. The entire time, the shepherd had followed, sticking close to its owner, looking concerned as dogs do when their masters are not well.[/i]
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[i]The man rubbed the back of his head, then sighed. He left the room, and soon returned with a bucket of water, towel, disinfectant, the long, white, wrap-around kind of bandages, stitching materials... where he got the stuff was an entirely different story. He proceeded to fold the towel, then soak it in the bucket of water. Afterwards, the man carefully began cleaning the mud and dried blood off of the woman, shifting the towel every so often. Eventually he managed to have the woman mostly cleaned up, and grabbed up the spray bottle of disinfectant, shaking it. He uncapped it, and quickly sprayed down the woman's wounds, before grabbing the stitches. As he wasn't very skilled with them, he stitched closed only the largest wounds, not making the stitches very intricate like a surgeon might be able to. Finally, as it looked as though the woman would not be in danger of blacking out, he used the bandages he had to wrap the woman's wounds up; in the end there would be a lot of bandages on her, to the point where she could have paced for a mummy if her face were more covered. He sighed, sat on the table, worn out. Now, he simply waited for her to wake up.[/i]
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[i]She laid there for some time, murmuring indiscernibly in her unconscious state. However, after a few hours, she came to, waking up slowly, and leaning herself up, despite her wounds. It appeared that she had quite the pain tolerance.[/i] "Where- where am I?" [i]She asked weakly.[/i]
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[i]The voice woke the man up; he had taken a nap, evidently. He slowly sat up, rubbed his green eyes.[/i] "... dojo. Brought you in to take care of your injuries. You alright?" [i]He asked, stretching and waking himself up fully. His voice was naturally quiet, so much so that it was barely audible to the woman.[/i]
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"W-what? Whe-where are we?" [i]She asked, generally confused, wanting confirmation on the man's first answer.[/i]
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"The Dojo? Some place for fighters? If I'm to be honest, I don't know very much about this place," [i]The man admitted.[/i] "Anyhow... what were you doing collapsed outside of the gates with those wounds?"
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"Running from... them..." [i]She said, sounding tired.[/i] "They're coming for the Dojo... they're coming for the Courier..."
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"I think it's obvious that I don't know who 'they' are, or the 'Courier', miss," [i]The man responded. He sounded equally as tired, maybe for different reasons but still the same feeling.[/i]
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"I'm sorry... I though he knew the people here... I guess that's changed... He's a big guy, wears power armor, has a machine gun on his shoulder, an American flag as a cloak, really sarcastic and scummy." [i]She sighed.[/i] "The men coming for him, I don't know a lot about, but I know that they're well-armed and trained. They know the Courier, they must've been doing deals with him or something... he probably screwed them."
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"Ah." [i]He seemed to understand it, somewhat. But the more pressing issue was....[/i] "And... how exactly did you receive those wounds?"
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"Torture and walking for a few days on end." [i]She said with a sigh.[/i]
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[i]the doors open revealing a very large woman who stands at 8'9". She has long strawberry blonde hair and was covered in freckles. She She can tell that something is wrong because of the way the dog was barking and because of the blood.[/i] "Easy pooch "she says [i]she had approached the woman in a peaceful manner hoping to get close enough to help her.[/i]
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[i]The dog growled angrily, tucking low over its master, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. The woman on the ground looked to be in her early twenties at most. A gash crossed her stomach from the bottom of her chest to her pelvis, and her legs and arms bore several lacerations as well, blood running into the mud and water. Her face looked rough, a black eye, bloodied nose, and a cut across her check. That was only what could be seen, and she quite possibly could have had more injuries. [/i]
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[i]the woman sighs a little bit looking at the dog. She steps closer she was several times bigger than it so she wasn't afraid of it. She just stooped lowed and helded out her hand letting the dog smell her hand.[/i] "Easy pooch im not gonna harm her im gonna get her help"she says
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[i]The dog continued to growl for a moment before sniffing the woman's hand, and eventually deeming her not a threat. Still watching her with protective eyes, the dog backed off for a moment, daring the woman to do something hostile, and yet leaving her room to assist.[/i]
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[i]She could just tell by looking at that she needed help fast. She just picked her up into her arms taking her to the one that she knew would be able to help. She walked into the dojo's walls heading for her house Leyla's to be exact. [/i]
