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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Rules-based RPGs --> Modern --> Tales of City Fantastico
Parent thread: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
GM for this game: Grugg
Players for this game: Almerin, Eol Fefalas, Tek, Celeste, Finn Mac Cuel
This game is on hiatus.
    Messages in Tales of City Fantastico
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Admiral
I'm doing SCIENCE!
RDI Staff
Karma: 164/50
1836 Posts


Virago is the poster child for anti-drug campaigns

After the agent had left them (cool tricks and all... they might have to compare notes later. This Roberto guy was a real class act. Snappy dresser too) and Percy delivered them to the arena, Virago got out and stood in awe of the stadium.

Always wanted to climb that thing... He mentally noted, but having never known the actual location of the stadium it had been a tough goal to accomplish. Now though, after this Canadian was met this thing was totally getting climbed and jumped off of. Virago stopped for a moment to examine the guard rails, even picking one up and swinging it around wildly a few times.

"Meh, it would work in a pinch, but doesn't have the balance this baby does," Virago spoke to anyone that was listening as he once again admired his terribly lopsided street light. He tossed it as high and far as he could, smirking at the CLANG CLANG CLANG it made as it tossed about on the ground as it landed. I made a doorbell! Drugs are bad, kids.

The arena on the inside was such a playground to the stunt man turned vigilante. He could literally swing from rafter to rafter and fall anywhere from five to a hundred feet. He would definitely be back here on his off time. Virago ran the information from the PDA through his head a few times. He couldn't believe he's finally going to get to meet the great Darius Garnet. This guy was like a hero! It's a shame Fantasti wants him "removed."

He spoke to anyone within earshot, "I must say I respect Darius Garnet. I'm his fan on Facebook, too." Virago reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his syringes. !!!Garnet Brand Crazy Juice!!!
"This stuff isn't quite as potent as my own personal brand, Awesome Juice TM, but Garnet's blend is more readily available and much less lethal. Besides that, Garnet's Phootball Phetamine is the main ingredient in my Blueberry Benzodiazepine Bonanza! Maybe this Canadian guy would have some samples, or at least a recipe. You think?"

Regardless of the answers he may or probably won't get, he had to explore. Virago backed up a bit and got a running start, leaping almost 6 feet off the ground onto the fall-guard railing of the seats above them. Sadly before he could swing over and head for the press box, an alarm started blaring.

The doors were closing and lights were flashing. No room to escape. The doors burst open. Someone was coming.
Quickly he jumped back down and formed ranks with the others, whooshing his street light back, forth and around in front of him like a lightsaber.

The hockey folks quickly surrounded them, and it looked like a fire-less repeat of the previous hour, except with different stereotypes to murder.

Virago held his streetlight out at full extension in a face-off position with the closest thug.

"Mine's bigger."

---------------------------------

The Canadian and Romeo made their introductions. Once the initial chit chat is out of the way, Virago finds a good moment to get down to business.

"First off my name is The American. Nice to meet a fellow connoisseur. So why are you mad at Garnet anyway? Do you want to be top dawg up in da Westizzi or something? I'm not familiar with your products. Or are you a simple mule for Garnet's science nerds? I heard you used to move a s***load of coke back in the day... oh wait, you're Canadian. Umm... carry the one... I heard you used to move a metric f***ton of coke back in the day. Any truth to that? And if so, do you have any on you? And if so, any chance I get a little taste? Or a big taste? Also, if you're interested, I'd love to show you my home blends. I promise they'll be a hit with the kids."



Posted on 2011-03-05 at 23:48:50.
Edited on 2011-03-06 at 00:06:31 by Admiral

Celeste
Hippy-snapper!
Karma: 138/3
1049 Posts


Kathryn ~~ I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay!

The PDA felt unfamiliar and flashy. Kathryn hadn’t really bothered with all of the high tech phones that were on the market; she didn’t feel a need to have an app that could order your dinner, automatically feed your cat, and tell your psychiatrist to piss off all with the push of a button. Although they did make great explosives if overloaded correctly. She continued to play with it as the truck lumbered towards Fantastico Arena.

As everyone trooped out of the truck, Virago began into yet another tirade about drugs. His ever increasing speed in personal monologues and tweaking nature was beginning to grate on her nerves. He apparently had no idea what the word tact meant, especially in what might be a delicate situation. She looked sideways at her new team, lingering over Downhouser’s meaty frame and Percy’s slightly bulging eyes. Not that discretion is something we’ll ever achieve.
The structure could have once been called grand, although now it was a stretch of the imagination with the scattered debris, downed concession stands, and roof that threatened to cave in. Virago looked like a kid in a candy store, his eyes opened wide as he examined the surroundings. Katie smiled as she felt the ever looming promise of blood from the old hockey arena. Before Fantastico had been overrun, she had spent several games here testing her ability to call a score. At least four hundred of her hard earned dollars had gone right back to the bookies. It was then that she realized that the casinos really were friendlier then sports fanatics.

A faint clink of a falling cup brought her back to the present, then immediately her hands flew up to her ears as the air horn went off.

“F**K!” she yelled out as the noise died. Katie never did like that horn, though the grisly plays the Fantastico Wildfires had done on the ice had made up for it. Several of the doors had been closed and the large doors in front of them burst open to reveal, Kathryn did a double take, Wildfire players?? Regardless as to who they actually were, they were quickly surrounding the five of them.

Her hands dropped instinctively to the Eagles at her side when a voice boomed out, ”Boys, boys settle 'er down eh?”. From behind the line of guys in hockey gear stepped Mr. Lumberjack himself.

”Alright then you lot,” his tuque bobbed a little as he gestured with his hand , ”what's all this aboot then, eh?”

Danyael slide out in front and began the introductions. "Well, when I was told we'd be expected, I have to admit I didn't plan on THIS sort of greeting. How about you put those blades away boys. We're here on business, and we'd prefer it if it didn't include a violent introduction."

He paused, and she was suddenly aware that she was touching cold metal. She casually moved her hands behind her back.

"We were told you might have some information for us. And that we could perhaps lend you a helping hand with the... situation you've grown so tired of. But if you don't want our help, I'm sure we can find other paths to our goal."

Katie thought that he had done pretty well; Danyael had covered everything in a few sentences. She was impressed, right up the point when he opened up his mouth for a third time.

"And judging by the greeting, it seems like you have all the help you need eh Canadian? Or perhaps you need someone a bit smarter, a bit smoother, or a bit more... shall we say... awesome to get the job done. Hmm?"

Before anyone had any chance to respond, Virago decided then was the opportune moment to speak his mind, “First off my name is The American. Nice to meet a fellow connoisseur. So why are you mad at Garnet anyway? Do you want to be top dawg up in da Westizzi or something? I'm not familiar with your products. Or are you a simple mule for Garnet's science nerds? I heard you used to move a s***load of coke back in the day... oh wait, you're Canadian. Umm... carry the one... I heard you used to move a metric f***ton of coke back in the day. Any truth to that? And if so, do you have any on you? And if so, any chance I get a little taste? Or a big taste? Also, if you're interested, I'd love to show you my home blends. I promise they'll be a hit with the kids."

Kathryn exploded, her brogue heavy with emotion, “What the f**k is wrong with you? Do you not realize that we are here to do business of a different nature? Thank God you’re not driving. I’d be afraid that you’re unnatural attraction to lamp posts combined with coke would have us stopping every ten yards just so you could lick them!”



Posted on 2011-03-08 at 02:35:29.

Steelight
Sage of the Realms
Karma: 44/9
1024 Posts


Recovering negotiations

Danyael looks calmly back over his shoulder at the big man and gorgous red head with a raised eyebrow.

"Simmer down Fire Eyes. You to Virago. We must deal with the business at hand first. The rest will be dealt with when we are able." His voice is both soothing and firm at the same time, his undertone saying more than his words.

If this gets screwed up, we fail. And it will fall on you.
He calmly turns back to the Canadian and his hocky goons.

"Now, I believe we were about to come to an arrangement were we not?"


Posted on 2011-03-11 at 00:12:20.

Grugg
Gregg
RDI Staff
Karma: 357/190
6192 Posts


Personally, I much preferred the old Hockey Night in Canada theme, but meh

"We were told you might have some information for us. And that we could perhaps lend you a helping hand with the... situation you've grown so tired of. But if you don't want our help, I'm sure we can find other paths to our goal."
Danyael paused a moment a moment, looking at the group of enraged hockey players surrounding the group. His gaze stopped on one of the larger ones who seemed to be staring at him a little angrier than the others, if such a thing could be determined. The man looked familiar to Danyael, but he ignored that for the moment.

"And judging by the greeting, it seems like you have all the help you need eh Canadian? Or perhaps you need someone a bit smarter, a bit smoother, or a bit more... shall we say... awesome to get the job done. Hmm?"
The boast caused the circle to falter slightly, the menacing hockey players looking to The Canadian to seemingly determine how they should react. The man himself looked slightly taken aback, it was not every day someone stepped into the stronghold of a drug lord while surrounded and outnumbered and then proceeded to talk as if he was from a position of power, after all. The man rubbed a hand through his busy beard a moment before he broke out in hysterical laughter.

The surrounding goons soon joined in, and their laughter reverberated off the high ceiling of the arena concourse. Suspecting they were in trouble, the team tightened up, preparing to fend off multiple attackers. The Canadian raised a hand, and as loud as the laughter had been, it stopped immediately.

”Yoo've got some balls on you, eh?”, the man said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, ”Yoo hosers show up to do Fantasti's dirty work and act like his name still means something in these parts of town. What's he all aboot anyway? Yoo meet the cowardly bastard?”
He started laughing again, though not as joyfully as the first had been.

”Why don't yoo lot follow me then, eh?”, he said, stepping back towards the entrance to the arena. ”There's something in here yoo're gonna want to see”
The team moved forward with the group of hockey players, save Percy, who tried to slip back and take another look at the antiquated ice cream machine before being dragged along by two of the burlier goons. Virago jabbered non-nonsensically at The Canadian as they navigating the seating, before a blistering rant from Katie shut everyone up until they reached the grandstands of the surprisingly well lit hockey rink, and from their position they could see what appeared to be a hockey game going on on the ice. A drastically one-sided hockey game.

One team resembled the goons that had led them into the stands, large, intimidating and decked out in Wildfire uniforms. The other team...well the other team appeared to be junkies and local thugs. They didn't seem to be wearing any hockey gear, and one of them wasn't even wearing a shirt! The two teams were taking a face-off at centre ice as The Canadian began speaking.

”I'm a nice guy, eh?” he said with a grin, ”...after all, I'm from Canada.”
He continued while a few of the goons chortled quietly.

”So I like to give people second chances, eh?”, he gestured down the rink, ”These hoseheads owe me money, eh? So I tell them, they win a game against my boys, all debts are forgiven. Seems like a good deal, eh?”
The goons in the stands all nod forcefully, until a loud scream from the ice draws everyone's attention to the rink. The junkie that had been taking the face-off against the Wildfire thug had been pounded to the ice in the face-off circle. The puck dropped the Wildfire player easily passed it back to a defender before turning in place and stomping down on the now prone junkie with his skate, improbably severing his leg with a single kick. The junkie's scream was cut short as a second stomp cut through the man's throat, leaving his twitching corpse bleeding at centre ice while the Wildfire player skated away.

The Canadian smiled before continuing, ”In truth I rarely get my money from those hosers, but they rarely get forgiven, eh?”
The game runs painfully short, with only the junkies' goalie remaining after just a few minutes. The Wildfire players began circling the net with earnest, passing the puck back and forth between them while the now panicked man desperately looked out over the blood splattered ice. Suddenly, a player flicks a quick pass back out to the point, where an enormous player had been winding up for a slapshot. He fires the puck at the net, and there is a dull splat as it embeds itself in the goalie's forhead. As he falls backward over the goal line, the goal horn blares and the Wildfire players celebrate on the ice, heading back to their bench to get high-fives the players waiting there. As the players head back to the dressing room, The Canadian begins speaking again.

”GOOD GAME BOYS! Now, where were we with yoo hosers, eh?”
"Now, I believe we were about to come to an arrangement were we not?" Danyael spoke up, drawing yet another glare from the strangely familiar goon.

”Right, yoo lot were looking for help, eh? Well I'll tell you what. Yoo lot do better than those hosers out there...”, he gestured to the ice, where a wildfire player was non-nonchalantly pushing the body parts off the ice with a large zamboni. ”...win the game, and I'll do my best to hell yoo lot aboot in your job for the big man, eh?”
Before anyone in the team could protest, the goons started pushing them down towards the away team bench. A wildfire player skated over and collected their weapons before he threw a heap of skates over the side and in front of them before turning up to the stands and shouting up The Canadian.

”Boss, they ain't got enough guys for a team, eh? They're one short!”
The Canadian's brow furrowed. ”Well we gotta giv'em a chance to make it fair, eh? Bring out that worthless russian cousin of my wife, eh?
The goon nodded and skated off the dressing room, returning shortly with a lean man wearing black camo fatigues and a ridiculously strange hat. He skates him across the ice and opens the gate for him to climb onto the team's bench.

”Now don't think yoo'll get it easy with my wife's cousin on yooer team there, eh?” The Canadian jeered down from the stands, where he had somehow procured a cup of beer and plate of nachos, ”Never really liked the Russian bastard anyway...
Before introductions could be made with their new member, a couple smaller Wildfire players skated out onto the ice and gave a quick skate around. The team's relief was short lived as these smaller players soon skated over to their bench, seemingly only out here to make sure the group got their skates on properly. As the team stepped out onto the ice, the stadium lights went down, with a large spotlight shining on the entrance to the other team's dressing room. Suddenly, a loud voice split the silence, and inexplicably, an octopus holding a waffle was thrown on the ice.

”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR FANTASTICO WILDFIRES!!!”
The voice came from the loudspeakers throughout the arena, and the team could hear The Canadian clapping loudly in the seating area. Six large, be-mulleted players skated out on the arena, and Katie was relieved and at the same time disturbed to notice one of them seemed to be female, if largely otherwise identical to the other players. At least The Canadian believed in gender equality. The players lined up on their sign of the face-off circle, and the team quickly slipped and slid their way into a largely matching position.

”AND NOW...SINGING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM...THE WIFE OF WILDFIRE'S CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC LE CONNARD, AMY LE CONNARD!!!”
A beautiful young woman stepped out onto the ice, and began singing in a manner so overblown and overdramatic that none of the team could really actually determine what national anthem it was. Danyael however, had other things on his mind as the large, angry looking goon from earlier skated from his team's line and embraced the singer. The singer noticed Danyael, and as madly as he was shaking his head no, gave him a small wave and a smile. The large goon turned and gave Danyael a death stare, and suddenly Danyael knew exactly where he had seen the man before. That man was the Wildfire's captain...and Danyael had apparently slept with his wife.

The singer retreated off the ice, and the Wildfires gave a quick skate around their end of the ice before taking up their positions for the face-off. A large goon in an ill-fitting referee uniform skated out to centre ice holding a puck and looked expectantly at the team, which is still standing somewhat confused on their side of the ice.

”Get in yooer positions then, ya' hosers.”
(OOC: Oh god you're going to want to see the Q&A)


Posted on 2011-03-14 at 16:35:44.
Edited on 2011-03-14 at 17:20:44 by Grugg

Steelight
Sage of the Realms
Karma: 44/9
1024 Posts


Well...

This is going a bit... differently than I had planned...
The Canadian had apparently underestimated the team.

”Yoo've got some balls on you, eh?”, the man said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, ”Yoo hosers show up to do Fantasti's dirty work and act like his name still means something in these parts of town. What's he all aboot anyway? Yoo meet the cowardly bastard?"
"Well, I suppose he has to find Real men and beautiful women to do the work for him. Besides, the pay is good enough, and you of all people should know what people will do when given the right motivation."

__________________________________________________________________

Down on the ice Danyael finally realized he didn't have any control over the situation.

"Hmm... this is a bit different. Usually I'm dropping out of a window and being shot at when I lose control of the situation." Fond memories of the captian's wife creep into his mind, bringing a smile to his eyes.

He looks out over the ice as the blood of the last game soaks in, it is then that he finally recongnizes the team captain. A plan began to form in his head, as he gave the captain's wife a wink that was full of promise.

"Alright everyone. It's obvious that their team captain is out for my blood. Though I can't for the life of me figure out why." A sly grin appears on his face. "I volunteer for the forward position opposite of him (right wing I suppose it is). As long as I can stay away from him and alive, I might be able to keep his attention off of the game. I've never played hockey before, but I imagine them having one less effective player will make it easier for us to score right?"

(once all arrangements are made per the Q&A he moves out into his appropriate position, hockey stick in hand and a cocky smile on his face as he winks at the captain himself.)


Posted on 2011-03-14 at 18:24:33.
Edited on 2011-03-15 at 19:39:26 by Steelight

Tek
Jumpin' Jack Smash
Karma: 44/13
675 Posts


Here. We. GO!!!!

Vitali blinked. His elbows perched on his knees, and his chin atop his clasped hands, he looked the Thinker. Only isolated in a grimy dressing room that stank of sweat and piss. A couple bunched up balls of sock tape littered the floor, residual from who knew how long ago. He did his best to avoid looked at a bloody streak on the bench to his left.

It was probably for these reasons that he'd been thrown in here by those goons. An effort to intimidate him. Make him feel alone. It made him think of watching old crime shows, the interrogation rooms that made the perp feel extremely isolated from the outside world. Only this one was grislier, and maintained by a rowdy pack of Canadians who, as far as Vitali was concerned, lived every stereotype he knew. Loud, obnoxious, unwashed, and fond of plaid. And fans of hockey. He couldn't rule that out.

Heaving a sigh, he leaned down and wrapped the laces of his skates around his hands, pulling them tight. It had been years since he'd gone out on the ice, but even when he was younger, he preferred them tight. More support.

*****

“What's this, eh?”

Vitali stopped in his tracks, glancing into the grimy reflection of the glass door before him. Standing a few feet behind him in the empty parking lot was a burly, bearded man wearing a plaid jacket and a pair of hip waders. Bizarre, he thought, though he didn't turn around. This man was obviously Canadian. They seemed to hang around this part of town.

“Can I help you?” He asked over his shoulder, still using the reflection as a guide.

“I should be askin' yoo the same there feller.” That stupid accent made Vitali grind his teeth in annoyance. This was America, for #*^&$ sakes! He was from the Ukraine, and he had managed to work out pretty even usage of English. This goof was from a neighbouring country, who still spoke English. Was it so tough?

He wrung his hands together and shifted slightly to the side, positioning himself in front of the hoser's image. His overloaded backpack presented enough of a buffer for his motions. “Just in the neighbourhood, pódruha.”

A chuckle from behind him. “Yooer one of them Slavs, eh? Aren't yoo far from home?” The lumberjack-looking brute took a few steps towards Vitali, and he could hear the sound of cracking knuckles.

Not good.

Vitali drew his Smith & Wesson and pulled back the hammer, spinning around in place and aimed for the hoser's chest. He suddenly remembered the first time he was in his sister's car, the old Pontiac, and having laughed at the little notice on the side mirror. Images in mirror are closer than they appear. Now he understood why.

His arm was caught firmly in the brute's huge fist, pushed aside to take him out of the line of fire. Vitali punched him in the mouth, and was met with a spray of blood and spit that spattered his goggles. The punch thrown back his way caused stars to erupt inside his head, and he staggered backwards, hitting his head against the glass door. His jaw throbbed, and he faintly heard a crunch. Not sure if it was his skull or the glass, he didn't have time to think it as he was hauled forwards and thrown to the pavement.

Amazingly, the gun was still in his grip. Twisting around, he clenched his teeth and pulled the trigger on the advancing goon, the thunderclap from the muzzle amplified in the empty parking lot. The last thing he saw before darkness clouded over his vision was that most of the Canadian man's face had been torn away by the shot, and the plaid garbed body fell with a thud not far from his own lean figure. This investigation was off to a punishing start.

*****

His jaw still ached, but his head was clear enough to figure out what had gone on. These thugs were aggressive. He should have used more discretion in contending with that lumberjack. But now, it didn't matter. When he came-to, he was in this dressing room. Most of his belongings had been taken. His guns, knife, and his backpack. What hadn't been found, though, was his tarp and one of his duct tape rolls, which had been stashed in his fatigues. In their place was a pair of ice skates with a note attached to them.

It don't matter if yooer distant family. Yoo don't poke yor nose around MY neighbourhood, pull guns on MY team, and leave a mess on MY lot. Those are MY dooties.
Vitali had crumpled up the note and thrown it across the room. That stupid yokel even wrote in that accent. He'd only ever met the Canadian once, and that was when his cousin had gotten married, but he at least knew that the skates meant he'd be going out on the ice against the Wildfires. His own ambitions had inevitably incurred the wrath of one angry Canadian. One against six, though... From the looks of things, it was game-over for him.

His skates tied, it was time to wait. A looming thought haunted him. The fact that he had skates but nothing else meant that he'd be out on the ice with nothing to protect himself. The more he sat, the more he felt his nerves working up. This was a survival situation in and of itself, which was his kind of thing. But he remembered from his growing up just how bad a hockey puck hurt against exposed skin. And while he couldn't substitute proper padding, he absently began fashioning a cup out of layered duct tape, which he slipped into his pants just as a the door to the dressing room opened. A player in full Wildfire getup beckoned him out. “Let's go, Russian.”

Vitali frowned and rose to his feet, walking to follow the man, who had already started down the hall. Looking to the rubber floor, he quickly snatched up a couple of the tape balls he'd seen under the benches, slipping them into a cargo pocket. Surely, there was something he could do with these, even if it extended his life span by a few seconds before he got slammed into a pile of Ukrainian sludge.

Stepping onto the ice, Vitali saw a handful of people geared up similarly to himself sitting on the Visitors bench. Maybe he had a chance at getting out of here, after all... From the looks of things, there were five of them, including one giant of a man who made his attacker in the parking lot look like a dwarf.

For the first time in about ten years, he dug his blades into the ice and took a few warming strides, getting the feel of it back into his legs. He followed his escort across the to his team bench, and stepped inside when the gate was opened to him. The rest of these poor souls were lacing up their own skates, apparently having just received them. He took the opportunity to size them up.

A man looking like a comic book character. A gorgeous red-head. An exceedingly well-dressed man. The giant. And...

“Bozhestvó!” He muttered, and looked away from the creepiest man he'd ever before lay eyes upon.

Before he could say anything else, a voice boomed across the loudspeaker, opening the way for the national anthem. Which anthem, exactly, he could not identify. A glance around spotted the Canadian sitting in a prime spot to watch the event to unfold.

“That bastard... What did she see in him?”

Taking his hat off, he ran a hand back though his black hair and looked at the ceiling as the anthem ran its course. The well-dressed man was the first to speak as the singer and the Wildfires captain conversed across the ice. Volunteering himself for right winger, and confessing to never playing hockey before, Vitali listened and stuffed his hat into his pocket and pushed his goggles up to perch on his forehead. That was one position filled.

“Greetings, pódruha. It would be my pleasure to meet you, were we not in such a load of $&@! right now. But it looks like we'll be working together here. Formalities and pleasantries later. My name is Vitali Koralev. In my head, I've already made tags for you all, but I'd rather know your names instead.” He scanned the bench, and spotted a rack of sticks, as well as a padded catcher. He tried to ignore the blood on it as he picked it up, and found a goalie stick to go with it. “If you all don't mind, I used to play goalkeeper when I was growing up. This might be the last chance I get to play my favourite position.” He winked, laughing gently as he slipped his hand into the glove. The laughing stopped as he found a severed hand still inside. A quick look revealed no other glove for him to use, so with a deep sigh, shook it till the appendage fell out.

“I guess its game time.”

(OOC: For all intents of listening to him, Vitali's English is just fine, though his accent comes through on pronouncing the R slightly heavier. Eager to get going here! )


Posted on 2011-03-16 at 05:36:58.
Edited on 2011-03-16 at 05:45:14 by Tek

Celeste
Hippy-snapper!
Karma: 138/3
1049 Posts


Katie ~ Sketchy skating and strategy

Its true. Sport fanatics really are crazier.
Kathryn always enjoyed a good beat down on the ice rink, but this was a little over the top. A scream echoed around the stadium, which was immediately cut off by a second clomp and grunt of approval from one of the Wildfires. A body check was issued to another thug, who was unceremoniously smeared across the Plexiglas. His body twitched feebly until he received an additional blow from a hockey stick. The horn sounded again as the final junkie flew over backwards with a puck embedded in his forehead.

”GOOD GAME BOYS! Now, where were we with yoo hosers, eh?”

Danyael spoke up, "Now, I believe we were about to come to an arrangement were we not?" One of the goons gave him an ugly look. What the hell?
”Right, yoo lot were looking for help, eh? Well I'll tell you what. Yoo lot do better than those hosers out there...”, he waved towards the rink. A zamboni was whirring around the ice, picking up body parts, . ”...win the game, and I'll do my best to hell yoo lot aboot in your job for the big man, eh?”

As soon as he finished, the goons began hustling them towards the visitor’s bench. This is happening way too fast. she thought as she was relieved of her weapons. Not even time to stretch! She grabbed a hair tie out of a pocket in her coat and pulled her hair into a tight bun. After selecting a small pair of skates, she began tightly lacing them up to support her ankles. There had been a couple of times that she had played hockey with her brothers, but mostly their chosen sport had been soccer. Her knowledge of the sport had been earned from betting on the games a few years ago, and finding out that she really enjoyed the violence of the whole thing. It struck Katie as cruel irony that she would experience the violence first hand. At least she got to keep her coat, it might serve as extra protection.

The player that tossed the skates over to the team called up at the Canadian, ”Boss, they ain't got enough guys for a team, eh? They're one short!”

The Canadian voice responded within moments, ”Well we gotta giv'em a chance to make it fair, eh? Bring out that worthless russian cousin of my wife, eh?

Fair? Russian? Kathryn was momentarily dumbstruck as a ruggedly handsome man stepped out from one of the dressing rooms. His black hair was swept behind his ears, and his clothes seemed to bulge in odd places. The Russian skated around a little bit before stopping in front of the group. He looked at each one of them in turn, and she felt her face flush as his eyes met hers. He muttered something foreign under his breath before turning to face the rink again.

The loudspeaker crackled as a young woman came out to sing the national anthem. What nationality it was couldn’t be determined, but she seemed to be enjoying herself as she sang it. The Wildfire captain skated out to give the singer a hug and, in the process, gave Danyael a murderous glare. Kathryn frowned. That seems to be becoming increasingly frequent.
The Russian was muttering again, “That bastard... What did she see in him?”

Katie looked up, “What, the singer?”

Danyael, his eyes glued to the singer who was walking off the ice, spoke to the group at large, "Alright everyone. It's obvious that their team captain is out for my blood. Though I can't for the life of me figure out why." A sly grin played across his face. "I volunteer for the forward position opposite of him (right wing I suppose it is). As long as I can stay away from him and alive, I might be able to keep his attention off of the game. I've never played hockey before, but I imagine them having one less effective player will make it easier for us to score right?"

Perfect.
“Greetings, pódruha,” the new teammate began,

Pódruha? Cad damnú?
“It would be my pleasure to meet you, were we not in such a load of $&@! right now. But it looks like we'll be working together here. Formalities and pleasantries later. My name is Vitali Koralev. In my head, I've already made tags for you all, but I'd rather know your names instead.” He grabbed the goalkeeper’s glove and stick before continuing on,
“If you all don't mind, I used to play goalkeeper when I was growing up. This might be the last chance I get to play my favourite position.” He winked, laughing softly as he slipped his hand into the glove. Vitali quickly removed it and began shaking the glove until a hand rolled out and bounced on the floor.

She stood up and began buttoning her coat, “Kathryn, or Katie if you prefer. And I’ve got at least some knowledge about strategy, but not much ice experience.” She sighed and leaned over to pick up a hockey stick, “I think most of us are about to get a crash course in playing hockey.” She looked around the group, quickly assesing their aparent skills before voicing her opinion, “Right then, here’s how I think we should set up. Let me know if you have a serious problem with it, but I doubt we have much time to discuss this.

“Downhouser, you up front with me and Danyael. I want you to plow the way for us. Take center and do whatever it takes to get the puck! If you can, shoot it into their goal. Percy, Virago, why don’t you guys stay back here and defend Vitali and the goal. Keep the ice clear of those thugs, and if the puck comes flying by you, try and grab it and pass it back up to one of us at the front. And for God’s sake, don’t leave this half of the rink; stay here and protect the goal. Remember, the ultimate objective of hockey is to keep the puck out of our area,” she pointed to their side of the rink, “and into their goal.” Her eyes flicked around at the Wildfire players, “and, in this case, not to be smashed to a pulp.”



Posted on 2011-03-16 at 16:51:44.
Edited on 2011-03-16 at 17:27:04 by Celeste

Steelight
Sage of the Realms
Karma: 44/9
1024 Posts


Side comments

As Danyael prepares to take to the ice he looks straight into the firey eyes of Katie.

"Gotta love a woman who takes control."

He smiles suavely and then heads out into the rink.


Posted on 2011-03-16 at 17:25:13.

Tek
Jumpin' Jack Smash
Karma: 44/13
675 Posts


Preparations

“What, the singer?”

The Ukrainian started, not realizing that somebody had overheard his cursing of the Canadian. Although it appeared that the attention had been placed upon the wrong person. The voice could only mean that the green-eyed woman had been the one to hear him, and he turned his own grey eyes upon her.

“Er... Not quite...” He gestured with his head towards the Canadian. “Him. I'll explain later, if we get out of here.”

Vitali smiled wryly as Katie introduced herself, looking away politely as she did up her coat. She was stunning, yes, but right now he needed to be able to focus, and busied himself with keeping warmth in his body. All he had were his fatigues and his tactical shirt, which, while being very form fitting, did very little to insulate in the frigid arena.

He listened quietly as the red-haired woman began to hand out positions to everybody else. In doing so, he was able to pick out their names. Danyael must be the man in the suit, while the human-formed Incredible Hulk would have to be Downhouser. That made the offensive line. For the defense, she had assigned Virago and Percy. It was shallow of him, but Vitali determined that because Virago was a heroic sounding name, it must be that of the man in the armour. Which meant...

An involuntary shudder ran through his body as he forced himself to look Percy in the face. Maybe it was just him, but something about the bug-eyed man caused Vitali great discomfort. But...perhaps this could be of use to him. In fact, if everybody felt the same around Percy, then he was the best possible defender that they could have! But everybody else on the bench seemed just fine around him. He hoped it wasn't just him being squeamish.

Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer to the two defenders.

“It looks like its going to be up to the three of us to shut down these oafs. Its been a long time since I've played, so why don't we warm up a bit? Take some shots on me, but take care not to put me out before we get started!”

Vitali stepped onto the ice and kicked a few strides towards their net, stretching his arms and back as he glided. He'd have to be limber to get his glove and stick on the puck, since he was lacking just about everything else. This would be a very tricky means of guarding the net. But...the severed hand in his glove gave him an idea. Obviously, the rules would be pretty lax, although a look at the ref did show a whistle on his hand. His mastery of packing had allowed him to hide a few things about his person, and they might be of use when the going got tough. It was just a matter of when to deploy them.

Doing a few laps of their end, Vitali flexed his hands to keep the circulation going. Getting numb could mean worse than an allowed goal. Failure to react could result in his death!

He scratched his chin, thinking absently about his lost family.

“I've still got some things to take care of before I see you again.” He spoke to himself, faintly remembering the smiling faces of his mother and father, his brothers, and his third sister. “Not yet.”

The Ukrainian looked up at the Canadian and gritted his teeth. He always hated when that hoser referred to him as Russian. Alexia was Russian, but not him. A small issue, but just another he had with these northerners.

A few strides pulled him up beside Katie, though he kept his eyes on the viewer. “If there's one thing I know of him, its his penchant for violence. Be careful out there.”

Moving on, he caught up to Percy and Virago. “I don't think there's much that we can't do around here. But we're at a disadvantage. If they make a move on the net...I think we pretty much have free reign to do what we need to take them out. I'm counting on you two.” He gave a supportive pat on the shoulder with his glove.

Skating towards the net, he settled himself in, trying to determine the best possible position to utilize his limited equipment. He nudged his goggles down over his eyes and cracked his neck. Any advantage would have to be taken, so he started scuffing the ice of the crease, shoving the shavings into a barrier around him. It looked excessive, but he had a history of building solid snow structures, so hopefully, that talent would come through here, right when he needed it.

(OOC: Going to try to use Batten-Down right from the get-go to make a sticky, tough perimeter around the front of the net. Since dropping in front of the puck is not an option, slowing it down or stopping it altogether without actually having to get his body in harm's way would be ideal.)


Posted on 2011-03-17 at 01:41:11.

Admiral
I'm doing SCIENCE!
RDI Staff
Karma: 164/50
1836 Posts


finally

"You Canadians talk funny..."

It sounded incredibly ironic coming from someone with what is almost universally agreed to the world's most annoying accent.

"And you say Hosa a lot. What does that even mean? Hey Canadian, I'll make you a deal. For every time you end a sentence and don't say eh, I'll pronounce an aaarrrrrrrr. Sound good?" Virago made it a point to drag out that last one, almost as if to prove he could. Fully expecting to be ignored, Virago turned his attention to the pitiful game at hand. These guys were such terrible skaters. He could beat the whole team of drug dealers with his eyes closed. Lucky for him the Wildfires seemed to be a fine job of creaming them without his help.

"You know Canadian, I'm a pretty good hockey playerrrrr. If you do decide to join forrrrrces I bet I could really help yourrrr guys down therrrrre. I want a free sample of every new product that comes in though. Fairrr is fairrrr... ok you know what screw it I'm done with that stupid letta. You can have ya infuriating accent. While I'm at it, that crap you call bacon tastes like leftova salmon three weeks old. I'd ratha just have ham and call it Canadian bacon. Worked fa McDonalds."

Typically, nobody was listing.

Next thing he knew he was being escorted towards the away team bench. A wildfire player took his street light (with a bit of a confused look, both about why he was taking it and what he was going to do with it) and traded him a pair of skates.

"Mavalous! I've been dyin ta get on the ice since I got he'a." It was almost like he was exaggerating his words a bit.

"Even betta! You gave me a weapon!" Virago was nearly shaking with joy as he took the hockey stick and proceeded to skate away from the group towards his goal, swinging the hockey stick around much like a sword. Nobody had actually seen him do it yet, but one could only assume that's what it would look like to see Virago fight someone with a street light.

"Alright everyone. It's obvious that their team captain is out for my blood. Though I can't for the life of me figure out why." A sly grin appears on his face. "I volunteer for the forward position opposite of him (right wing I suppose it is). As long as I can stay away from him and alive, I might be able to keep his attention off of the game. I've never played hockey before, but I imagine them having one less effective player will make it easier for us to score right?"
Virago swooped back over to join the conversation. "Score? I thought this was supposed ta be a deathmatch? They murdered the other team. I don't think they are interested in goals. I bet they don't even go for the puck." With the Canadian out of earshot his voice returned to normal. Actors are strange people.

The "Russian" introduced himself to the group, and quickly volunteered to take goalie.

"Fine if you want the net. Too stationary for me. I'm Virago by the way. I do too many drugs and take too many risks. I can also act a bit."

Katie then started to lay out some serious strategy. This was the perfect moment to get mentally prepared for the coming strategy session . They might physically outmatched but no chance they were beat mentally. They just needed to be on their A game. Virago dug around in his jumpsuit/armor and dug out a self injector kit labeled DANGER: CONTENTS UNKNOWN and stabbed it straight into his bicep. Awesome Juice. Probably. As he tucked the syringe back in its hiding place Virago decided he needed to work on his inventory organization. Oh well, too late now. Beings he only carried stimulants and painkillers on hand, either way he was in good shape.

“Virago, why don’t you guys stay back here and defend Vitali and the goal. Keep the ice clear of those thugs, and if the puck comes flying by you, try and grab it and pass it back up to one of us at the front. And for God’s sake, don’t leave this half of the rink; stay here and protect the goal. Remember, the ultimate objective of hockey is to keep the puck out of our area,” she pointed to their side of the rink, “and into their goal.” Her eyes flicked around at the Wildfire players, “and, in this case, not to be smashed to a pulp.”

By the time she finished Virago was halfway across the ice doing triple Axels and Salchows.

As the team took their positions, Virago made some good laps around the net, even leaping over it a few times to make sure he could do it without killing his goalie. It was almost game time. Vitale called the defenders in.
“It looks like its going to be up to the three of us to shut down these oafs. Its been a long time since I've played, so why don't we warm up a bit? Take some shots on me, but take care not to put me out before we get started!”
Virago looked a bit confused. "Umm, are you sure about that? I mean it's kind of hard... but if you insist."
He darted back towards center ice and turned to face the goal. Starting slow but quickly gaining speed, Virago dashed forward. Halfway to he raised his stick over his head and let out a terrible yell, crouching down and getting ready to leap, before digging his skates in sideways and coming to a grinding halt not 5 feet from Vitale.

"Wait a second... you meant take a shot at you with the puck didn't you. Ha ha that was close. You should probably be more specific."

Getting back into his position on the ice, Virago began slamming his stick repeatedly into the ice. cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon!!!! HURRY UP In reality he had zero intention on playing the game... Time for some acting.

"Ok Canucks. Let's play some Hockey."



Posted on 2011-03-21 at 04:19:04.

Almerin
Typing Furiously
RDI Staff
Karma: 177/19
3012 Posts


Skating sucks, but shoving people around....

Hockey.

ICE hockey.

It was just American football on skates. Gerald Downhouser loved American football. He’d been one hell of a player in his high school years. His team had won every single game since the day he joined. He could just carry the ball to the other side of the field unhindered. Yes, some people got dragged across the grass as they refused to let go of his ankles after an attempted tackle, but most of them didn’t maintain their grasp long enough to see the touchdown. His coaches had told him to ignore the referee’s plea to please pass the ball once or twice because the field got damaged too severely by people dragging over it. Or the mothers of the other team’s players had offered him money not to trash their sons too hard. He had always followed the coaches advice and ignored any pleas.

Rules were rules, and they were there for a reason.

What was happening in the ice skating ring had nothing to do with rules. This was not a hockey game but a massacre on the rocks. It would’ve chilled his blood if he hadn’t gotten so used to seeing people die. He tore his gaze away from it and looked straight down at the Canadian.

“This is not a fair game. You, are a bad man. Were your parents bad people too? I bet they were.”

That would teach him. Downhouser was sure of it.

People around him started preparing for the game, and soon they were joined by a newcomer. He introduced himself as Vitali, and seemed a decent guy, with some knowledge of the game. Gerald greeted him warmly with a firm handshake. It was then that Katie proved her worth once more by declaring a strategy.
Downhouser was glad she took control of the situation, because he didn’t know the first thing about hockey. Well, he had watched it once or twice, even visited a game once, during his time as a personal body guard. He didn’t remember much from that period.

Still, beating people up was something he could do in his sleep. In fact, he had once woken up standing over a pile of knocked out gangsters in his pyjamas with no recollection of even getting out of bed.
It was just the way it was. He found crime like other people found loose change. He also put crime in his pocket as other people did coins.

So after strapping on skates, he got on the ice and started getting the hang of it. He swung the stick around and found how the part of the game involving hitting a target came much easier than the part where you remain standing while doing so. He looked at the others. They obviously had some experience on the ice. He himself had absolutely none. He considered taking of the skates and just using his boots. He might be disqualified for that. On the other hand, he was quite sure that severing somebody’s leg was against the rules as well.

He would just have to improvise a little, and use his experience in combat. After all, he had his hands. He could simply throw some people around if the situation demanded it. And those hockey sticks made it so damn easy to get a hold of people. They were extensions waiting to be grabbed. He looked at Katie and gave her a thumbs up. He understood his position and would do his best to get her some room. Shoving people around was what he was best at.

(OOC: He'll combine what he knows about hockey with what he knows about other sports if it helps him clear the way. He'll swing his stick like a baseball bat at opponents, grab helmets and driving them down to the ice, and he'll probably try to throw some of the other team out of the ring accidentally. This is the first round, and he'll try to stick to the rules, even though he doesn't know what the rules are.)


Posted on 2011-03-21 at 21:18:59.

Grugg
Gregg
RDI Staff
Karma: 357/190
6192 Posts


AAR?

Chapter 1.3: Everything is Manlier on Ice!
The team took a brief conference on their side of the ice. Introductions were made, and the couple of them that had played (or at least seen hockey before) laid out a brief game plan. The team skated about uneasily, getting their footing before finally settling in to their positions. Vitali took up his spot in goal, while Virago and Percy set up directly in front of him. The enormous Downhouser, flanked by Katie and Danyael, sidled up to centre ice, casting large shadow over the Wildfires' centre. The rest of the Wildfires took up their zones, with their captain Jean-Luc set up beside Katie, while staring menacingly across the ice at Danyael, who found himself matched up against the only female (or certainly the one that seemed the most female) on the Wildfire team. A pair of large, gruff players made up the Wildfire back line, with their goalie decked out in full gear, much to Vitali's under-equipped resentment.

The referee skated up to centre ice and stood between the towering Downhouser and the comparatively short Wildfire centre, who gave a short chuckle as he looked up to make eye contact with Downhouser's omnipresent sunglasses.

”What's the weather like oop there wit' yoo, eh?”, he asked, his question drawing a couple laughs from the other Wildfire players. Downhouser seemed slightly confused for a moment however, and right as he was taking a moment to evaluate the meteorological situation in the vicinity of his head the opposing centre nudged the ref, who quickly threw the puck to the ice before Downhouser could pay attention. With a simple tap of his stick, the Wildfire had the puck through Downhouser's legs and had streaked around his side towards the team's blueline.

Virago had been twirling in place in his end, his adrenaline and enthusiasm for unbridled violence leaving him barely able to stand still. The moment he spotted Downhouser's defensive lapse he surged towards the approaching player, barrelling towards him with barely a thought for his own well being. Holding his hockey stick over his head like some sort of battleaxe, Virago surged into the air mere feet from the Wildfire centre, whose attention had been momentarily drawn away by an errant bounce of the puck. Time seemed to slow a moment, and the centre only just managed to look up at Virago just as the stick met him right in the forehead.

For a brief moment there was no sound at all save an unsettling squish, and Virago appeared to be suspended in mid-air as his stick locked in place in the centre's skull. The Wildfire centre's legs buckled under him and he collapsed to his knees as Virago's momentum carried him bodily over the fallen man's head. As he adjusted to land on his skates, his movement inadvertently catapulted his stick, and the attached body over his own head, sending the now well dead player through the glass wall surrounding the rink, and resulting an improbable and impossibly fiery explosion as the body collided with the concrete wall.

The puck drifted idly down ice before bumping into Percy's idle stick, though he barely noticed, occupied as he was with constructing a wee snowcone out of the shavings on the ice. Virago swooped back as he grabbed the former centre's fallen stick from the ice, and took the puck off Percy's stick as he turned around to survey the ice, looking for either a teammate to pass the puck to or another player to possibly eviscerate.

Back near centre ice, Katie found herself nearly entirely free to move about, as the Wildfire captain Connard had headed across ice towards Danyael, who found himself doing his best to keep the questionably female Wildfire player between himself and the incensed winger. While the pair of Wildfire defenders were keeping themselves near the hulking mass that was Downhouser, Virago fired the puck up the left side of the boards to Katie with tremendous force, if little accuracy. The puck coasted past Katie and cleared its way into the Wildfire zone, and the Irish lass's speed allowed her to quickly outstrip the defenders as they hastily readjusted to try and catch her. Find herself one-on-one with the Wildfire goalie, she tried to remember things she'd seen players do back when she only bet on the games, instead of being thrust into them. Faking a short slap, she drew the goalie slightly out of possession before flicking the puck up and sending it hurtling towards the top corner of the net. Just when it seemed she'd beaten the goalie with her feint, the flailing Wildfire goalie managed to kick the opposite pole of the net, and to Katie's disappointment adjusting just enough to cause her shot to bounce forcefully off the post.

As Katie turned to look for a ref, she was immediately blindsided by one of the Wildfire defensemen, sending her coursing across the ice on her back and into the boards. As she regained her composure she noticed the defence had taken the puck up ice, leaving her woefully out of position. Cursing her luck, she righted herself and took off in pursuit.

At centre ice, Danyael attempted to block the speeding defensemen, but found himself having to quickly move out of position while the intimidating Wildfire captain attempt to smash him into the ice. His momentary loss of position allowed the defencemen to clear the puck up to the second defensemen, who had made his way up past the floundering Downhouser and was no just crossing into the team's end.

Vitali looked up at the Wildfire player crossing into his end. As Virago hastily tried to cut him off and Percy appeared to be constructing a small village of snowmen, his old instincts from playing goal as a child in the Ukraine kicked in, and within seconds he found himself reading the player's movements like an open book.

Roger LaRocque. Age 27. Kicked off his pee-wee team for fighting the referee. Parents divorced. Never had a meaningful relationship. Likes Chinese food and hackysack. Can't do long division. Once had an unfortunate encounter with an angry dog. Can't spell hospital. About to feint a wide shot and fire a hard slapshot top left.
Before he could even comprehend the information he'd just absorbed he was called upon to act. He saw the feint without even trying, and counter-intuitively streaked to the opposite side of the net just in time to glove the sudden slapshot as it sailed towards the twine. Clamping down on the puck as the defenceman closed in, play was stopped as a harsh whistle split the air. Vitali looked up to see the remaining Wildfire players filing off the ice onto their bench, and a loud voice came out over the sound system.

”END OF THE FIRST PERIOD. CURRENT SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: ZERO. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE BEFORE THE NEXT PERIOD.”
There is some quiet applause from The Canadian in the arena seating, and the team is quickly directed back to their bench by the sudden appearance of a Zamboni sweeping the ice.

(OOC: See Q&A!)


Posted on 2011-04-05 at 17:38:32.
Edited on 2011-04-24 at 23:04:23 by Grugg

Almerin
Typing Furiously
RDI Staff
Karma: 177/19
3012 Posts


option #1

This was definitely not his kind of game.

It was on ice. That was the biggest reason. When sure footing was nowhere to be found, Downhouser was out of his element. He’d been too occupied with trying to keep standing that he had lost track of what was happening around him. He had only caught glimpses of the game.

He’d seen Virago finish off one of the other players. He knew that was against the rules, but realized also that rules did not fully apply today. It would prove difficult not following a straight path of easy guidelines. Usually he was drawn to crime, and defeating it had become not so much of an instinct as well as an unconscious reflex like blinking or breathing. The rules for punishing the bad and the wicked were simple.
Hockey, however, was a different animal all together.

Gerald had also noted the opponent’s goalie move the goal an inch. If that was permitted, a whole new game opened up to the super cop.

“Ok, guys,” he said when everybody was bunched together on the bench, “we can win this thing. All I need to do is stomp our own goal so deep into the ice that there is no more room for that black, little, flat ball to get in.”

He looked at the others expectantly.


Posted on 2011-04-07 at 18:07:49.

Steelight
Sage of the Realms
Karma: 44/9
1024 Posts


Danyael

He looks at Downhouser incredulously.

"Wow... Did you come up with that on your own? The ice is several feet thick and I don't think anyone here has an ice pick hidden on them..." He looks around to the rest of the group. "If they do, I really don't want to know where its being kept."

"I think we're doing alright. Katie, you took a pretty hard hit, you still good to go?" A flash of true concern flashes across his eyes before being concealed once again by his usual expression of cocky confidence. "Virago has already reduced their team by 1 with some creative high sticking. That should make this next period a bit easier. I'll keep the captain and the incredibly she-hulk out of it as much as I can. All we have to do is hold them off, and score a single goal."

Danyael definitely sounds more sure of himself than he really is, but that's was always one of his more charming qualities.

"We've seen that they play dirty, and the ref didn't call anything on Virago. So guys, what do you say we step up the beating a bit eh?"

With a sly grin on his face he waits a moment for other input.

(He'll continue acting the part of a distraction, and dodging the captain as necessary.)


Posted on 2011-04-10 at 15:21:02.

Celeste
Hippy-snapper!
Karma: 138/3
1049 Posts


Katie ~ Are you gonna get me the ball?! er... puck?!?

”END OF THE FIRST PERIOD. CURRENT SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: ZERO. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE BEFORE THE NEXT PERIOD.”
“SIOTA!” Katie spat as she made her way off the ice, “SIOTA SIOTA!”

The teams were skating back to the bench after what seemed to be an extremely fast period. Katie wore a scowl as she sat down, and she aimed a kick at the severed hand that had fallen out of the goalie’s glove before the game. Her resolve was hardening as she thought about the previous period. Not only had she missed the shot Barely! , but she had been blindsided by one of the Wildfire brutes in the process. She shrugged her shoulders in the painful memory. That was not going to happen again. This had gone from a challenge to a personal challenge.

At least they are down a player. A slight grin spread across her face as she looked at Virago. For the amount of talk he played up to it, he really was handy with long, straight weapons. Blood still dripped from the end of his hockey stick onto the mat.

Katie’s thoughts of beating other players into a pulp were interrupted by Downhouser speaking, “Ok, guys, we can win this thing. All I need to do is stomp our own goal so deep into the ice that there is no more room for that black, little, flat ball to get in.” Dumbfounded, she stared back blankly at Downhouser.

Mercifully saving anyone else from having to answer that statement, Danyael spoke up, "Wow... Did you come up with that on your own? The ice is several feet thick and I don't think anyone here has an ice pick hidden on them..." His eyes swept around the group. "If they do, I really don't want to know where its being kept,

"I think we're doing alright. Katie, you took a pretty hard hit, you still good to go?"

She grimaced before saying, “I’m fine.”

He continued, and his voice carried a note of confidence, "Virago has already reduced their team by 1 with some creative high sticking. That should make this next period a bit easier. I'll keep the captain and the incredibly she-hulk out of it as much as I can. All we have to do is hold them off, and score a single goal. We've seen that they play dirty, and the ref didn't call anything on Virago. So guys, what do you say we step up the beating a bit eh?"

“I’d say that I was barely cheated out of a goal this last period,” damn luck. “ so you guys just keep doing what you were doing,” she quirked and eyebrow as she looked at Virago, “beating them to a bloody heap, keeping them clear of our goal, and passing that puck up to me. Downhouser,” she paused, and thought about what she knew about the big man.

“Downhouser, I need the ball.”



Posted on 2011-04-14 at 15:34:02.
Edited on 2011-04-14 at 15:38:40 by Celeste

   


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