Renard was waiting for it. That shot. It flew at his arm, Daniel feeling it slide over the skin, a small red burn over where it had scraped. He had dodged a bullet. And now came his reward. Skye? Fuck him. He was bleeding and had an unloaded crossbow. Everything was turning up Renard now. He could easily wrestle the thing out of his grip, kick him in the nuts (if he really had any) and leave him to die. Or kill him here. The bitch should be begging for his life. Instead, he still thought that he had something left.
Interesting. Maybe he did have something other than the crossbow on him. But every step Daniel took towards the boy sitting down in the sand spelt it out for him: Bluffing. He was totally and utterly fucked. Daniel could do whatever he wanted and he wouldn't be able to do a fucking goddamn thing. Daniel liked this idea. It was kinda funny actually, he didn't expect a lot out of this game, maybe get a few days in before getting shot in the head by a runner up player. Now he had a purpose. A reason to be on Red Team. Grinning widely, he stopped.
Kick 'em while they're down.
Renard aimed at his gut, slamming his foot down. He tried it again. And again. And again. Raising an eyebrow, he reached down and tried to grab the unloaded crossbow, aiming to rip it out of his hands.
"Hold still."
Just Pay Separate Processing And Handling
Skye Thsani Cont. - (Open)
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler CorruptDropbear. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ThePureLight7*
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 8:00 pm
He missed. He missed. He fucking missed him, that skinny mother-fucker!
The bolt flew from Skye's bow and skimmed the Renard kid's arm, leaving a red scratch as it flew past. Goddammit! Goddammit! he yelled in his head. He probably would have said it aloud, but he was losing blood fast and didn't want to risk any sort of unneccessary effort. "Fuck!" he shouted, breathing deeply while sprawled on the ground. (Okay, maybe just a little unneccessary effort...)
Dammit. Maybe the kid had something else in mind other than just killing him. But every step Daniel took towards Skye, sitting down in the sand, spelt it ot for him: He wasn't bluffing. Skye was totally and utterly fucked. The smug fuck loomed above him, grinning like a fucking hyena, ready to deal his final blows. He'd probably run off with his weapon, and his bags, and his God-fucking-dammit!
Skye was kicked hard in the gut. He rolled over in the sand a little and gagged. It was the worst feeling he had ever felt, the blood rushing through his mouth. There was jack-shit he could do about it either but just sit there as the beating kept coming. The kid was close, and yet he could just... He couldn't...
His thoughts were getting cloudy. That fucking bastard... Kick. Kicking a man while he's do- Kick. Fuck! More blood. I can't... Shit... Kick.
Everything around him faded into silence as he layed on his back and looked up at the sky. His head was still bleeding, he was coughing up a storm, and he was beginning to choke. The kid had stopped kicking him. Why? Had he had enough? No, that would be too easy. Skye leaned his head forth a little to see the boy reaching down for his crossbow. That was why he had stopped the beating; not out of any sort of moral conscience.
Skye saw a chance. The sun burned, his head ached like the dickens, blood was pooring out of his mouth - but Goddammit! He still had some strength left in him! When the boy was too far down to get back, he reached his arm out ever-so-slightly and grabbed his leg, pulling with all his strength. Renard tumbled to the ground, kicking sand into Skye's face, but he was already half-blinded by the sun, and he was too fueled by his anger to stop now.
He struggled with all his might to climb on top of Renard. "FUCK YOU!" he shouted, holding the boys hands down, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He lifted his right arm, and with all of his strength, powered by adrenaline and rage, slammed his fist directly into Renard's jaw.
He coughed up more blood, which spilled out of his mouth and landed in Renard's face. "FUCK YOU! THIS IS FOR TRYING TO TAKE MY CROSSBOW!" He punched him again. "THIS IS FOR THROWING A FUCKING ROCK AT MY FUCKING HEAD!" Another punch. "THIS IS FOR KICKING ME WHILE I WAS DOWN!" More gagging blood, and then another punch. "THIS IS FOR MY DAD!" Punch. "THIS IS FOR THE GODDAMN ALCOHOL!" Punch. "THIS is for Amb..." His arm fell back to his side, and his breathing deepened. He couldn't go on doing this. He was too tired now.
He cried. Using his arm to hold down Renard again, he sobbed, the tears also dropping onto Renard's now-bloody face. Skye couldn't tell if the blood was Renard's or his own. He fell down, letting loose of Renard's arms, and his head landed on Renard's shoulder. He could no longer feel the aching in his head. All he could see was a small pool of blood forming around him and staining on Renard's shirt, probably from his head-wound.
His thoughts no longer even made coherent sense. He faded out, looking off towards the trees in the distance off of the beach. His breathing slowed, and eventually stopped.
The party's over.
YLW1: Skyler Thsani - DECEASED
The bolt flew from Skye's bow and skimmed the Renard kid's arm, leaving a red scratch as it flew past. Goddammit! Goddammit! he yelled in his head. He probably would have said it aloud, but he was losing blood fast and didn't want to risk any sort of unneccessary effort. "Fuck!" he shouted, breathing deeply while sprawled on the ground. (Okay, maybe just a little unneccessary effort...)
Dammit. Maybe the kid had something else in mind other than just killing him. But every step Daniel took towards Skye, sitting down in the sand, spelt it ot for him: He wasn't bluffing. Skye was totally and utterly fucked. The smug fuck loomed above him, grinning like a fucking hyena, ready to deal his final blows. He'd probably run off with his weapon, and his bags, and his God-fucking-dammit!
Skye was kicked hard in the gut. He rolled over in the sand a little and gagged. It was the worst feeling he had ever felt, the blood rushing through his mouth. There was jack-shit he could do about it either but just sit there as the beating kept coming. The kid was close, and yet he could just... He couldn't...
His thoughts were getting cloudy. That fucking bastard... Kick. Kicking a man while he's do- Kick. Fuck! More blood. I can't... Shit... Kick.
Everything around him faded into silence as he layed on his back and looked up at the sky. His head was still bleeding, he was coughing up a storm, and he was beginning to choke. The kid had stopped kicking him. Why? Had he had enough? No, that would be too easy. Skye leaned his head forth a little to see the boy reaching down for his crossbow. That was why he had stopped the beating; not out of any sort of moral conscience.
Skye saw a chance. The sun burned, his head ached like the dickens, blood was pooring out of his mouth - but Goddammit! He still had some strength left in him! When the boy was too far down to get back, he reached his arm out ever-so-slightly and grabbed his leg, pulling with all his strength. Renard tumbled to the ground, kicking sand into Skye's face, but he was already half-blinded by the sun, and he was too fueled by his anger to stop now.
He struggled with all his might to climb on top of Renard. "FUCK YOU!" he shouted, holding the boys hands down, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He lifted his right arm, and with all of his strength, powered by adrenaline and rage, slammed his fist directly into Renard's jaw.
He coughed up more blood, which spilled out of his mouth and landed in Renard's face. "FUCK YOU! THIS IS FOR TRYING TO TAKE MY CROSSBOW!" He punched him again. "THIS IS FOR THROWING A FUCKING ROCK AT MY FUCKING HEAD!" Another punch. "THIS IS FOR KICKING ME WHILE I WAS DOWN!" More gagging blood, and then another punch. "THIS IS FOR MY DAD!" Punch. "THIS IS FOR THE GODDAMN ALCOHOL!" Punch. "THIS is for Amb..." His arm fell back to his side, and his breathing deepened. He couldn't go on doing this. He was too tired now.
He cried. Using his arm to hold down Renard again, he sobbed, the tears also dropping onto Renard's now-bloody face. Skye couldn't tell if the blood was Renard's or his own. He fell down, letting loose of Renard's arms, and his head landed on Renard's shoulder. He could no longer feel the aching in his head. All he could see was a small pool of blood forming around him and staining on Renard's shirt, probably from his head-wound.
His thoughts no longer even made coherent sense. He faded out, looking off towards the trees in the distance off of the beach. His breathing slowed, and eventually stopped.
The party's over.
YLW1: Skyler Thsani - DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ThePureLight7. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
Two hours later.
His jaw still stung. It wasn't broken, it just stung like the punch had left a permanent itch that he couldn't scratch. He had been dunking his head in the salt water for at least an half hour beforehand, trying to get the blood off his face, spitting out dirt. Stretching, he poked his now dry red shirt hanging from a tree branch. The blood never fully came off, and it was starting to fade slightly now thanks to the salt and sun combo, but at least the iron blood smell wasn't going to haunt him yet. Putting it back on, he adjusted his bandanna on his wrist. He didn't dare remove that, and so there were a few small drops of blood, dark circles on the side. A reminder.
He had decided to adjust the packs, removing the unessential items, the costumes, the pants that were too big for him, extra maps. As for the crossbow, it had at least twenty arrows. Maybe twenty five. He couldn't be bothered counting. He chewed on some jerky, finished off one of the loaves of bread. Without glancing at the body behind him, he put on his backpack, adjusting the straps, slowly walking across the sand. If the microphone on his collar was good enough, it would pick up a soft whisper.
"Mama, just killed a man... put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead..."
[[Daniel Renard continued in It was an axe-cident]]
His jaw still stung. It wasn't broken, it just stung like the punch had left a permanent itch that he couldn't scratch. He had been dunking his head in the salt water for at least an half hour beforehand, trying to get the blood off his face, spitting out dirt. Stretching, he poked his now dry red shirt hanging from a tree branch. The blood never fully came off, and it was starting to fade slightly now thanks to the salt and sun combo, but at least the iron blood smell wasn't going to haunt him yet. Putting it back on, he adjusted his bandanna on his wrist. He didn't dare remove that, and so there were a few small drops of blood, dark circles on the side. A reminder.
He had decided to adjust the packs, removing the unessential items, the costumes, the pants that were too big for him, extra maps. As for the crossbow, it had at least twenty arrows. Maybe twenty five. He couldn't be bothered counting. He chewed on some jerky, finished off one of the loaves of bread. Without glancing at the body behind him, he put on his backpack, adjusting the straps, slowly walking across the sand. If the microphone on his collar was good enough, it would pick up a soft whisper.
"Mama, just killed a man... put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead..."
[[Daniel Renard continued in It was an axe-cident]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler CorruptDropbear. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.