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An Irishman in Karakura [Closed/Watari]

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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Tue Jun 30, 2020 6:31 pm

Reishi gathered under his fleet as he launched himself onto another rooftop, landing lightly thanks to the wave of spiritual energy he wove beneath his feet, grinning broadly as he did so. In front of him the large bird-like monster banked to one side as it spun back around to face it’s pursuer. The creature let out a shrill cry as he began to dive towards the mortal.

Diarmaid smiled hungrily as his right hand tapped the cross around his neck. Pale blue spiritual energy began to glow around the focus and as he drew his hand away from it a long spear began to form. The weapon was a burning light in the darkness.

The Hollow’s Spiritual energy began to climb as red light emanating from the sides of it’s closed beak, causing Diarmaid to slide to a stop upon the wave of energy he was riding. Drawing back his arm the man waited for his moment as the energy of the Hollow came ever closer to completion.

Then it came. The spike of power. The beak began to open.

Hurling his spear forth like a javelin the shaft of blue light flew true and straight into the Hollow’s mouth. Red energy exploded as the failed Cero detonated in the dying monster’s mouth. It cried in pain as it fell from the air but already it was disintegrating.

Diarmaid stopped to catch his break, looking around at the town illuminating with a mixture of moonlight and the artificial street lamps along the roads and paths. Karakura Town. He’d only arrived here a few days ago, it was supposed to be just one stop along his trip across Japan but ever since arriving he’d not seen one Hollow nor two but dozens. Every night they came out screaming across the landscape hunting for their prey and there was nothing more Dairmaid enjoyed than turning a hunter into the hunted.

He could barely believe his luck. This was the greatest place on Earth as far as he was concerned. Back home, across the fields of the Orchard County, he’d be lucky to bag a couple of Hollow over an entire week. Here? He could slay that many a night. It was fun but there’d still yet to be any real challenge, the ones he’d caught so far had been feral with relatively little strength. He wanted a challenge.

Turning his head he sensed something. Definitely Hollow, he could tell by the familiar sickening feeling it evoked, but there was something more. Something stronger. Something new that he didn't recognise. Perhaps even a challenge? With a chuckle he set off in the direction of the beast, leaping easily through the air as he did so.

By God he loved this fucking town.


Last edited by Diarmaid O'Cahan on Wed Jul 01, 2020 5:12 pm; edited 3 times in total
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Post by Bill Wed Jul 01, 2020 2:59 am

Watari stood in the air of Karakura Town, what was it about this place that was so poignant? Hatayama had answered the question once, apparently leylines of spiritual energy that crisscrossed the globe all converged onto this point at least once. It was essentially a hot spot, a veritable cesspool of untamed energy that unnaturally drew anything and everything to this place. The walls of the Garganta were thinner here, so naturally Hollow poured from every pour, the babies born were strange and mystical and to compensate Shinigami had to come to balance the Hollow.

But Shinigami weren’t the only slayers of Hollow - Quincy. A word that previously had not only been alien but completely negligible to Watari had now risen to the top like some sort of oily film on his mind. What they were - what they’d done - had set a cold fury bubbling in Watari. It was funny, if he was to be asked three months ago “what would be the one thing that’d anger you unlike anything else?” the near death state of Yuki Kameko would not have been at the top of that list.

He’d let it simmer. He didn’t know. Watari Suzumei never acted unless he knew. Of those clues only a few things were certain, it was an unknown foe, it had a burning weapon and most definitely wasn’t truly human. Watari had weighed up tying Raphael to a chair and making him scream until he spat out every secret he knew about spiritual humans, but Watari liked Raphael and more importantly Watari doubted that Raphael even had Quincy on the radar.

So there it had sat, like a boil on his mind growing bigger and bigger, oozing frustration. Frustration at becoming better, frustration at what had happened to Yuki, Watari’s one source of “good” that he had left in this cold world and then . . . and then . . . Zenji Hatayama the meek! The cowardly! The holy man of Soul Society had had a meeting with him and tells him about these rats, these slayers of Hollow, these monks of destruction -

Quincy.

Things to be exterminated.

A declaration of war?

Heaven hath no fury like a Suzumei scorned.

So Watari had left Soul Society and walked through the skies of Karakura and there he had sat. Dead in the middle of the sky. Watching. Waiting.

BA-DUM
BA-DUM
BA-DUM

Bezaliel was quiet. Did it know? No, Bezaliel agreed, he could tell. There were many things Bezaliel and he needed to do, but this? This trumped all the others. Yuki wasn’t just a person, a lover or even his wife - she was a beacon of what he could be. He could be better. He really could. But if Yuki had died? His dream of being loved and even to an extent feeling love, was nothing.

QUINCY.

There in the distance. An unfamiliar spiritual pressure flickered - alien yet familiar. At the same time he noticed the presence, a Hollow made its way through a tear in the sky and Watari flicked his sword hand, separating the beast’s limbs.

It howled struggling in his grip as Bezaliel was resheathed at his side. The flailing corpse of the Hollow called for something to kill it, as it’s sockets bled freely into the night below. Once, Watari had found it ironic that a “Hollow Bait” had been cracked here, it seemed that this “Hollow Bait” was perfect for a particular kind of foe.

An athletic man, clearly human, came bounding through the sky, black hair and distinctly european. Foreigner? They always were these humans, weren’t they? His spiritual pressure reeked of a similar kind to the spiritual pressure he’d traced on Yuki’s battered form.

Watari’s eyes grew soft as he snapped the Hollow’s neck and chucked the torso into the town below. His posture slouched in typical Suzumei fashion, he didn't care, why would he care? This was just another human in the middle of the night and he'd just been finishing disposing of a Hollow.

"Be Bill"

“Evening Friend, beautiful night to be killing Hollow ain't it”

If a lone Shinigami meets a Quincy in the dead of night in Karakura.

Will that Quincy make a sound?
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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Wed Jul 01, 2020 7:48 am

The man showed up in time to see a stranger dispatching the last of the Hollow with what appeared to be ease. Sighing with disappointment that his quarry had been stolen from him the Quincy slumped slightly. Looking up at the stranger’s words he grinned in amusement “Hey mate, can’t say I disagree. Sadly there ain’t been much of a challenge out here tonight.” he replied with an exaggerated shaking of his head in disappointment but his smile remained bright and friendly.

He tilted his head wondering what the other man was exactly, maybe some sort of Spiritualist Samurai? He was new to Japan, knew what sorta weirdos lived in this country. Still he looked very anime which Diarmaid could only approve of.

Planting his hand on his hips the man glanced around in search for more Hollow while keeping up the conversation. “Gotta say bud, I’m new to your town here. It’s a Hell of a lot more active than with the Hollows, Ghosts and what have you than anywhere I’ve ever been. Any idea why that would be?” he asked. It was fascinating that Karakura had turned out to be such a Hunting Ground filled with potential prey which meant lots and lots of fun of course.

Even as he spoke the man was casually pulling Reishi from the environment, in small amounts, to keep up the ever constant energy flowing through him so that he could expend it to keep himself afloat without exhausting his own Reiryoku. It was something that, in his youth, had fascinated him with the differences between his people and the Hollow. They expended their own Spiritual Energy whilst his own people heavily relied on gathering it from their surroundings. He wondered which was the more common method when throwing together all the types of Spiritual Beings and Empowered Humans.

He tapped a finger against the cross hanging from his neck, blue sparks leaping from it as he did so, the item hummed softly with power but it was only residual energy. There was no need to keep channeling Reishi through his Destruction Cross unless he was actually using his weapon.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer he looked at the stranger and smiled. “The name’s Diarmaid by the way.” he stated before getting to the crux of the mystery. “What’s with the getup? That some sort of Spiritualist thing?”
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Post by Bill Thu Jul 02, 2020 1:36 am

“It’s weird isn’t it - this town? You ever think that if any of those gods of fate were real they’d probably spend most of their time weaving their tapestry here? Everything happens here friend, keep that in mind because whether you want to or not, it’ll whisk you away” Bill mused as he stared into the city, somewhere down there were the real Quincy, the ones that knew what toxic blood ran through their veins. This guy? He could already tell, before he’d even asked what he was, this guy was new. This guy was just like Raphael. Fresh. Foolish. Vulnerable. You know, in a way that was Watari being nice, a solitary warning, get away friend, leave now, don’t come back before it’s too late.

Too late.

He didn’t know what a Shinigami was? There was a cruel irony in that, Watari seriously doubted Yuki knew what a Quincy was before they did what they did to her. The Shinigami needed to calm himself, to steel his resolve. He was getting too caught up in his rampant emotions over what they’d done. There was a time and a place but that place wasn’t now, because right now, he was Bill, he’d thank Reika for that much later.

“Bill”
Bill smiled pulling from his robe a small silver flask filled with whiskey, he slowly unscrewed the top and took a small sip from it, letting the hot liquid run to his belly and warm his already burning veins. No poison. No toxin. No nothing. Be better. Apparently everybody respects you more when you don't use poison.

“Yeah, they call us Shinigami, we’re tasked with keeping the balance and making sure you humans don’t get caught up in the whole crossfire, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem for you friend” Bill took another swig and proffered the silver flask towards Diarmaid to take, Bill could be better than Watari after all, Bill was the sort of guy you could befriend. Nice guy that Bill really cared about humans and wanted all the best for them and this Diarmaid guy didn’t seem too bad, maybe they could become pals, find out who hurt Yuki and really create an alliance where Shinigami and Quincy could thrive.

“You’re doing me a kindness after all”
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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Thu Jul 02, 2020 5:44 am

“Tell me about it! You got less Hollow hunting done in a month than you could do in a week in this place. It’s less a problem running out of targets and more running out of hours in the day!” he laughed almost musically, his voice filled with warmth. At the mention of Gods he tapped his chin. “You know I was raised Catholic and I sometimes think there probably is some sort of Supreme Being. But he must be having a laugh half the time or just getting high all things considered.”

Shaking his head he glanced at the City below, following Bill’s own glance. He frowned for a moment. Most of the time hunting was all fun and games but there was the human component. People relied on the Quincy, whether they knew it or not, to protect them. On more than one occasion over the years Diarmaid had shown up at the last minute to slay at Hollow before it managed to catch an innocent man or woman unawares. They didn’t know the threats that lurked in the shadows. Aside from a few special souls like this guy here. Humans with the power, like the Quincy, to defend themselves and others.

As the man said his name Diarmaid’s gaze slid back up to him and he smiled brightly. “A pleasure Bill.”

However when he continued to explain what he was Diarmaid’s expression transformed to one of shock, his smile disappeared, as he stared at the man. Shit it made sense. The black dress, the sword, the whole samurai anime look. Of course he was a Shinigami! He’d read enough about the ghostly bastards that he should have known but he’d never seen one before.

The Irishman’s smile returned with a vengeance as his entire face lit up with excitement. “You’re a Shinigami? Fuck man, it’s awesome to meet you. I’ve heard about you guys of course but I’ve never had a chance to actually chat with one” he said with genuine enthusiasm. Diarmaid’s parents had taught him about their people's history of course but, as far as the O’Cahan Clan was concerned, live and let live. It was over a thousand years ago. Of course his parents would be damned furious if they knew their son was actually speaking to one but Diarmaid had dreamt of meeting one of these Soul Reapers for half his life.

The Quincy tapped his cross around his neck, the blade lighting up, as he drew forth a blazing spear of blue light. However he leant it against his shoulder, the tip pointing up and back in the least intimidating stance he could really take with the weapo summoned. “Listen this might seem a bit weird but I’ve been dying to have a fight with one of your lot. Don’t suppose you’d be up for it?” he asked, enthusiasm incarnate. He wasn’t going to just attack the guy of course, that’d be shitty as hell. He just wanted a good fight to see what these Shinigami where made of.

Taking the silver flask in his left hand he nodded happily. Raising it in Bill’s direction he winked “Here’s to you mate.” he said as he threw back a swig.
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Post by Bill Fri Jul 03, 2020 3:13 am

The weapon manifested in Diarmaid’s grasp, blazing blue fire, he knew? No, his body language said he was completely comfortable with everything that was transpiring. He had no idea, he was just doing it to show what he was. How ignorant was he? He knew what a Shinigami was but wasn’t afraid? So then why in the Soul King’s accursed name had Yuki been attacked if all Quincy were like this? It made no Soul King damned sense and it pulled on the corners of frustration within Watari’s brain.

Unless this Quincy was mocking him? Look what I did to your hope Watari, I struck down your hope and left her for dead in this city where the Hollow pour from every pore. Look Watari, I have the power to do it to you too but I’m not going to. Look Watari, I want to fight! So I can burn you and defile you like I defiled your hope. The Shinigami could only watch those glazed eyes as the man took the silver flask from him and drank from it.

That amber liquid.

Running down his throat.

Bill would’ve nodded and smiled, maybe teased Diarmaid like he had with Reika. Bill really was great, he was what Watari wanted to be, a good guy - wee bit of an asshole at times but good natured. The type of guy that people wanted to be around because their laughter was as infectious as their personality and they didn’t need plans because their charm was their weapon.

Watari could see Bezaliel in the distance, shifting into view, an oak door stood open in space, beyond what looked to be the barracks from the Suzumei estate. He could almost reach out and touch it - go beyond that open door and back into that room. No, he wouldn’t make the choice yet.

Bill was better.

But Watari wasn’t Bill.

“I’m sorry for what you are friend,”
Bill said softly, as Watari ran Bezaliel through the man’s soul sleep. The move was simple, it happened in a few moments, to fully enjoy the experience of torturing Diarmaid above Karakura, Watari was going to remove the only thing the Quincy actually had.

Watari tsked in his head as his Zanpakuto passed through, he was inches off, just far enough that the man wouldn’t lose his powers completely but enough that he’d be like a wounded animal. It was like knicking a vital artery, the results would be immediate - maybe fatal but not as quick a death as would’ve been achieved if he was a tiny bit more accurate.

The butcher would draw the blade from Diarmaid and just stare at him as his lifeblood dripped from the tip of the Zanpakuto, there was a morbid satiety in drawing the blood from a pig. Maybe if Watari had been a bit more accurate the Quincy would’ve squealed?

“I warned you dog, I warned you about the tapestry man”
Bill whined, he hadn’t wanted to do that! That was all Watari, stupid murderous Watari this was why they couldn’t have any friends. He blamed Yuki of course, but so did Watari, if she’d just married them like Watari wanted then maybe she wouldn’t have gone to the human world and if she hadn’t gone to the human world then . . .

Bill watched and Watari waited.

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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Fri Jul 03, 2020 5:39 am

Ah that was good stuff, it burned sweetly as he swallowed. It seemed weird that Samurai Ghosts would have such good whiskey on hand. Ah well who cared why? This was a great meeting. He’d been worried the Shinigami would really turn out to be like those monsters in the old tales. Killers of children, slayers of the old and all that other horrible stuff. But this guy, this Bill, he seemed cool. Plus he was pretty hot, in a scruffy kind of way, which was always a plus. Diarmaid was really hoping he’d take him up on the offer of a little sparring.. If he did he’d have to bring him for a few drinks as thanks, but where did you bring a spirit to get black out drunk?

He’d just ask him.

Suddenly the Soul Reaper was saying sorry. It was gentle and the Irishman felt concern flicker across his expression at the undercurrent of hurt in the Shinigami’s voice. He suddenly felt rather worried for his new pal and lowering the flask he opened his mouth to ask if Bill was okay.

Sharp Agony

Diarmaid frowned, confused, and opened his mouth but instead of words only a pained gasp and a trickle of blood came forth. Looking down he saw the blade in his chest, following the sword he saw it was held by Bill. That didn’t make sense, the guy had been nice. He’d been a new friend, although new evidence pointed to the contrary.

As the blade was ripped back out the Quincy felt the Reishi beneath his feet flicker out of existence and he was falling. It was an odd feeling to have the throbbing torment of a hole in your chest while air rushed past you.

‘Well what can you do?’ he thought with strange detachment.

His hands tightened. The silver flash in his left and the glowing weapon in his right. The tactile sensation in his hands brought him back to the present. Oh there was something he could very much do. Blue lines ran across his chest, Blut Vene, a bit too late to limit the damage of the Shinigami’s weapon but enough to slow the blood loss at least.

Shoving the silver flash into his pocket the mortal drew back his other arm, the glowing spear pulsed as more Reishi was fed into it, and then he hurled it. The lance of destruction cut through the air and sped straight for the Shinigami’s chest with deadly accuracy.

Diarmaid then pulled more Reishi and threw it behind him to slow his descent before he ended up little more than a splatter on the ground below. Slowing down, although not quite enough, he fell between two buildings and straight into a narrow alleyway. Crashing, quicker than he would like, he fell straight into an open dumpster with such force that the lid slammed shut.

“Fucking great...” he muttered.

One hand over his wound, little help though that did, he kicked the lid open and managed to half climb and half fall out of it. Pulling more Reishi to himself, preparing for whatever follow up came, he glanced upwards to see if his lance had struck true.
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Post by Bill Fri Jul 03, 2020 5:54 am

He was falling.

Which one of them was falling?

Not Bill that was for sure, ol’ Bill just had to watch and let Watari do his thing, great guy that Watari always knew exactly where to hit it really was a shame that he’d decided to be better. It wasn’t Bill’s fault he’d let the blade not be ‘perfect’ but that was Watari right? Shameless to a fault. Silly guy.

Watari tsked as blue lines crisscrossed the man’s chest as he fell? What the hell was this, some trick? Stuck pigs really should let themselves bleed out, it ruined the meat you know. Whatever the Quincy was doing he was distinctly less destabilized in spiritual pressure than what Watari was comfortable with, so while before he’d been content to just watch his tragic descent, he fell to.

Just as he noticed a glint in the distance as they fell, hurtling downward he knew what it was, felt what it was - it was a searing heat, an alien spiritual pressure that seemed to want to wipe everything clear, it was foreign and unnatural and it hummed through the night sky searing upwards and towards Watari.

Ah. This. This explained Yuki’s wounds. Why she’d taken such damage. Same situation. Alien weaponry, she hadn’t known - he hadn’t known, the burning was . . .

Watari roared as he slammed the tip of Bezaliel into the tip of the spear causing it to explosively detonate and yet he still pushed on, he resisted the flames as they licked up his arm burning away his sleeve and scouring his flesh. He was Watari Suzumei, the scarred! The one who suffered! The last of the Suzumei Brothers. Watari would not falter to some childish burning.

He felt.

“FEE”

His blood raced through his veins as old fairy tales he use to tell with his brothers played in his head. He in tandem felt Bezaliel falling beside him, guiding his Zanpakuto arm onwards as the pain became a dull throb somewhere in the back of his mind.

The alleyway.

“FI”

Watari’s feet touched concrete as he looked around? Where was the pig? Little pig, little pig, why are you hiding? Didn’t you know Shinigami could smell you?

“FO”

There, that dumpster, that was where he was hiding.

“FUM”

Watari rammed his Zanpakuto through the metal.

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE IRISHMAN”
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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Fri Jul 03, 2020 6:10 am

He’d fallen out of the dumpster just as the blade slammed downwards. A few seconds slower and he’d be Diarmaid the Deceased. ‘Fucking great.’ he repeated internally.

Drip. Drip.

Well the Blut was slowing the bleeding down at least. It wasn’t stopping it though. The simple fact was that Diarmaid, for all his magicky type powers, was still a man. The Quincy were just mortals after all. Unlike the Shinigami, Hollow and whatever other beastiest lay in the Shadows his body could only take so much of a beating before it was over.

Should I run?’

Hell he had a fucking hole in his chest. At this rate he was dead.He couldn’t out run the Shinigami anyway, he knew that. So what was a guy to do? Fuck it. Might as well go out in a blaze of fuck you.

The air became visible with ghostly, smoky, blue light as Reishi was drawn from everywhere around the two men towards the Quincy’s own glowing aura of energy. He’d one asked did he, and every other Quincy he met, have the exact same colour aura whilst Hollow appeared to have a wide range of colours. Apparently blue was, or at least perceived as, the natural colour of Spirit Particles and because that’s where the Quincy drew their strength from it was the colour of their Reiatsu. He’d liked that explanation, it sounded like a suitable big brain answer for him to accept.

Looking up at the man he narrowed his eyes. Strange. Bill, if that was even his name, almost seemed a different person. The gentle friendliness, the jovial comradery between guys, it was all gone replaced by what appeared to be a barely sane killer.

Well at least he wouldn’t have to feel bad about killing his new friend.

Drip. Drip.

The Blut was weakening.

Tapping his cross the Quincy drew another spear of destructive power, slowly a grin beginning to spread across his face as he did so. Eager fury washed through the Quincy, oh if this was to be his end then that it be such an end that the Soul Reaper would never forget the fury of his people.

“Loscadh is dó ort!” roared Diarmaid as he leapt forward. Spear held in both hands, he thrust the full 7 foot lance straight at the Shinigami’s throat.

He would be dead soon but he’d make sure this Bill regretted the sudden betrayal.

Drip. Drip.
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Post by Bill Fri Jul 03, 2020 6:49 pm

He could hear it, the drip drip of blood on stone. Watari hadn’t felt this alive since Yuki, this was probably why he had been so bothered by it all - to be better simply wasn’t to be a better person morally it was to live your best life and so far, he was really getting into the meat of that. It was unfortunate, he could’ve sworn the man was in the dumpster but perhaps he’d imagined that? No, that sickly sweet spiritual pressure was definitely around here somewhere.

“I hear you, I sense you, come on out Quincy so I can bleed you dry”
would Yuki actually want him to do this? Well, come to think of it, she probably would, stabbing somebody in the body from the front after all was way more acceptable than downing them with poison. She’d that herself! As long as they fought, as long as they were gripped in the heat of battle - that was all Yuki cared about - violence and bloodshed.

The Quincy stood, humming with blue energy as it intertwined and interlocked around him, Soul King be damned these Monks of Destruction sure didn’t know when to sit down and let themselves be destroyed. Hypocrites! Watari spun Bezaliel in hand, well, you can bring a pig to the slaughterhouse but that didn’t mean they were going to go down easily.

The Butcher of the Suzumei channeled his own spiritual pressure against his Zanpakuto, focussing and hardening it a bright orange ember ran down his arm and blade before flashing into flames across the length of the weapon.The Burning Blade was a technique that Watari had refined over the passed few weeks and finally he could summon the flames from his weapon, the side effect was he also had licks of flame burning his arm, but since he’d already suffered damage from Diarmaid it was pretty negligible.

Watari smiled as the Quincy thrust his spear at him but the Shinigami’s flames were brighter, he parried the blow flicking the glowing spear downward as he punched Diarmaid across the jaw.

"Didn't they tell you not to play with fire Quincy?"

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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Fri Jul 03, 2020 7:08 pm

The sword of fire rang out with the cry of steel in a rain of sparks as it struck the spear of light. When the fist came Diarmaid was already moving back and so the blow lacked any real stopping power as he skipped away moving with surprising alacrity considering the literal hole in his chest. As he moved back he easily slid the spear in his grip to lash out with his butt of the spear towards the Soul Reaper’s face. Whether or not it hit didn’t matter.

A bloody smile was clear on his face, hungering for the shinigami’s death but also literally bleeding from a cut which Bill’s fist had delivered.

Diarmaid was slowing but his flowing spiritual strength still gave him the muscle needed to keep fighting. He had one other advantage, his spear, the weapon was just superior to a sword in all regards. One good thrust was all he needed.

Focusing on Bill Diarmaid, whether due to the heat of the fight or his wounds, he failed to notice the cracks near the spearhead where the Zanpakuto’s superior durability had damaged the imperfect Reishi weapon.

Hearing the man talk the Irishman couldn’t help but laugh, the noise coming out wet and half-gurgled. That probably wasn’t good. “You really love the sound of your own fucking voice.”

How the fuck did he do the fire thing though?’ he wondered silently.

Dismissing the curious thought Diarmaid danced into range, because what else was combat really but a dance, moving lightly on his feet like an expert the Quincy was about 6 feet away he suddenly slipped his hands to make an explosive long range thrust. Utilising the superior range of his weapon he aimed for the easiest target, the man’s chest, as his spear shot out with explosive speed and Diarmaid threw his entire strength into the blow. He risked upsetting his own balance but, frankly, he didn’t have many other cards to play right now.

He’d best make it count.
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Post by Bill Fri Jul 03, 2020 7:34 pm

“Oh you're funny! You’re a really funny guy Diarmaid” Bill chuckled as Watari predicted the savage thrust that the Quincy threw at him - too slow, your weapon’s damaged, your reflexes are slowing and he was faster. The burning spear really was sickeningly beautiful but there was no way he was going to let himself be struck by it again, the Shinigami parried once more the flat of Bezaliel meeting the already fractured tip of the reishi spear, on contact the spear exploded in Diarmaid’s hands sending them both backwards.

Watari was sent flying and regained purchase mid air, landing on his two feet and sliding further back as his hand clawed into the ground grinding his fingernails and slowing his slide. The Shinigami snarled as he saw Diarmaid across the alley.

“C’mon Mate, stand up” Bill commented as Watari crossed the alleyway towards the fallen Quincy, well Yuki would probably be right about one thing - because it seemed to be the only rhetoric that ever came out of her mouth about fighting - at least it was fun. Note to self, Quincy weapons are unstable and breaking them in that state causes explosions, further note to self Quincy seem to demonstrate some form of pain reduction technique which forces the reishi threads to reduce the level of bleeding, further further note to self, they don’t fucking squeal.

“Hey”
Watari whispered, standing over Diarmaid who was barely holding it together, his blood and spiritual pressure seeped out of him as the Shinigami placed a foot over the other man’s knee as he lay there barely conscious. He reached down and grabbed the man by the hair as he pulled him up so that he could look him in those big ol’ golden eyes of his.

“When they find you, can you tell them it was a mercy that I kept you alive? It’s a sign, like what they did to her - you tell them that okay? From me ? Actions have consequences kids, now you all are going to pay the price” the Head of the Suzumei slammed his foot down, shattering the man’s knee and hearing a sickening pop. He let the flames on his sword die and raised a hand letting a butterfly crawl from his sleeve and hop up onto the brickwall of the alley.

Wow,

This was cathartic.
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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Fri Jul 03, 2020 7:53 pm

He wasn’t quite sure what happened. One moment he was thrusting swift and true, then there came a bright light, the feeling of Reishi washing  around him as his weapon broke apart and then he was flying. Unfortunately people do not, in fact, fly and so instead he was falling. He hit the ground hard sending pain shooting through his body across new and old wounds alike.

His head rolled to one side and he frowned at his empty hand. He needed something… ah yes a Spear. Reishi began to crawl towards his cross, slowly all too slowly.

Someone, no not someone but that traitorous shit Bill, grabbed him by the hair to pull him up. Diarmaid glared balefully into the Soul Reaper’s eyes. He’d no issue about losing a fair fight but this had been far from fucking fair. Cowardly shit that the Shinigami was, he couldn’t even offer that much.

The man started talking again, big fucking surprise, but he was blabbering on about some shit that Diarmaid didn’t understand. Who did what to her? What the fuck was he talking about?

“What the fuck are you tal-” he cut off with a cry of agony.

Well less a cry and more a roar followed by a string of colourful curses in English, Irish and a few Welsh and Japanese ones too for good measure.

Falling to the ground in agony, free from Bill’s grip, he began to cough as all the damage was catching up to him. He wasn’t even sure if the Blut was active anymore at all. Trying to roll up in a ball, to bring his damaged knee closer to his chest, he stopped part way with another stifled hiss of agony.

‘Nope! Fuck! That’s worst!’

Half-rolled up the Irishman lay there with his shattered knee as the blood pooled around him. Groaning he wondered if this was it? Where twenty four years really all he got before it was all over? What came next? Was there a heaven? Shit. He really should have been a better Christian, you know, just in case. Fuck and he never even got a proper fight with a Shinigami before one killed him, what a load of shit.

His mind flickered to the exotic lass at the bar, the Irish Quincy he’d met over coffee, then his family. Shit his family. Maybe his mum had been right, maybe leaving home wasn’t such a hot idea after all. They’d rather been relying on him hadn’t they? He was supposed to come home, join his mother’s business again and, one day, pass the Quincy lore onto the next generation. Keep the blood alive. Well it looked like he’d fucked that one up. ‘Sorry about that..’

His eyes began to close, it was getting too hard to keep them open and besides who wanted to stare at the ground of a dirty alley until death finally took them?

God he was tired. Had he felt this exhausted earlier? Maybe it would be best to just go to sleep. Maybe just a short rest…

Rain began to platter down across the Town and in one dark, small, alleyway the water fell on Dairmaid but he didn’t feel or hear it.
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Post by Bill Fri Jul 03, 2020 10:25 pm

Damn, could just put the piggy out of his misery right now, direct blow to the head he’d be out like a light - it’d be a kindness but not the kind of kindness that Watari was interested in sharing with anyone right now. Diarmaid was a sign, a sign for what was to come, a purge had happened before and it would come again and they deserved it. Watari didn’t care about the balance, he didn’t care about Zenji’s divine mandate and his matching drive to annihilate an entire race. All Watari cared about was taking one back.

You hurt one of mine.

I hurt one of yours.

Easy as pie.

The Head of the Suzumei liked to think there was an untold rule amongst the nobility now that you simply never crossed Watari Suzumei, it was a simple rule to understand. Watari was a force in amongst his own, he operated with kindness and mercy and assuming you never ever crossed him then you would probably be better off.

Condemning an entire race though? Wasn’t that an act of insanity? Bill could see the reasoning, but that simply wasn’t true. Quincy were a boil on the surface of humanity and what did you do with boils? You punctured them and let them drain out. What they were doing was a service that Shinigami had done for millions of years, it just so happened that Watari himself was the one to do it this time and it started with Diarmaid.

He was doing the right thing, for the Shinigami and for Yuki.

“Geez man, you aren’t going to die, I just need you to be a sign is all, for the rest of them”


Bill crouched down next to Diarmaid as his shallow labored breaths were a sign he was nearing the clutches of death. He’d leave him with the flask, it was a keepsake after all, a sign of their could-be friendship or course Watari had dashed that into the mud but Bill could see why it was necessary. Quincy were Quincy, they were just an unfortunate byproduct that Shinigami seemed to hate.

“It’s a shame mate, it really is, we coulda been best pals but the Soul King decided your lot and he’s a nasty old miser” Bill’s hand would glow briefly a sharp green light as he stabilized the man’s spiritual pressure, it’d give him a few more hours. Watari however deepend the pressure just a bit, so that it would radiate to any Quincy in the area, essentially turning Diarmaid into a glorified injured calling card.

The Senkaimon glowed to life over the brickwork, a brilliant door to the Soul Society.

“Here’s to you mate” Bill whispered as he vanished beyond the door.

/EXXIT
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Post by Kevin DuBrow Tue Jul 07, 2020 1:35 pm

Kevin was more or less recovered after nearly two weeks of bed rest under Meridith’s watchful eye following his encounter with the wizard Shinigami he had taken to calling Lo Pan after the villainous sorcerer in Big Trouble in Little China. From what she told him, he was lucky to have been alive. On the surface, he only had his broken leg to deal with, but his internal organs had taken considerable damage from being tossed around so much. Tack on the concussion he got from getting smacked with the staff and the sheer volume of spiritual energy that collided with and shot from his hand and it did not make for a pretty picture.

Her healing hands had saved him, though, and he was going to see fit to repay that kindness now that he could walk again. It was this desire that had gotten him out of the house and, feeling like surprising her with a tasty treat from Karakura’s best rated taco shop, he had left on a mythical carryout journey. He had initially set out feeling pizza, but, upon rounding the corner away from the hotel she was holed up in, decided to throw a changeup.

It was in such a state that Kevin, equipped with a jumbo sampler bag containing various beef, chicken, and steak tacos felt his spiritual senses perk up as he smelled a coppery tinge piercing through the aroma of the taco bag. Someone had been fighting, and they were fighting way too close to Meridith’s place. He hastily pulled out his phone and started a Face Time call with her so she could ride along in case something bad happened again.

He arrived near an alleyway leading to the strange spiritual occurrence and, setting the taco bag gently on a nearby bench, slipped on his pitchers mitt. If this was a Shinigami, he wasn’t getting caught with his pants down again. No, Kevin was going to do this the way he had originally imagined just such a showdown beginning.

Using his non-gloved hand, Kevin flipped through his phone and started the theme song from Pacific Rim. His spiritual pressure surged, the sound of a crowd beginning to bleed into the alleyway as he prepped a heater behind the mitt. After shaking out his arms and fixing his tie, Kevin loudly called out in English so that whatever foe waited him in the alley would know what was coming. ”Making his way to the mound, with a seasonal ERA or 2.51, give it up for Pittsburgh’s own Kevin DuBrow!”

He slipped his voice back into his own as he stepped around the corner, ready to kick some ass. ”Okay, you son of a bitch. Let’s do t-” he started, ending his badass march as he noticed that the source of the spiritual signal was actually a severely injured man. ”Oh fuck! Are you okay, stranger?” he asked as he rushed forward, flipping to Japanese after an exclamation in his native tongue and kneeling by the injured man to see if he looked to be able to move. As he hit the ground, Kevin shifted the energy from the ball up into his hand, giving his arm a light glow.

If this was some kind of trap, he wasn't about to give himself up without a fight.
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Post by Diarmaid O'Cahan Tue Jul 07, 2020 5:39 pm

It wasn’t the sound that woke him up, at this point nothing short of an explosion could pull the dying Quincy from the abyss but the sudden rush of fear and anger he felt as Reiatsu washed over him was enough to startle him to a semi-awake status believing that the Shinigami had returned. However even through the fog of pain he soon felt the comforting flutter of Quincy Spiritual Pressure, although there seemed to be a momentary roaring as if he was dying to the cheers of a bloodthirsty colosseum.

The voice spoke English called down the alley towards him and was strangely comforting to hear the more familiar language. A man knelt next to him and the comforting sensation of a fellow Quincy became prevalent. Through half-open eyes Diarmaid couldn’t help but force a weak smile onto his face at the question.

“N… not really.” he replied softly in English, too pained to summon up his Japanese linguistic skills. “Be..careful, Shinigami stabbed me… shattered my knee..”

Instinctively Diarmaid tried to shift his weight but stopped as he let out a cry of pain as it momentarily felt like his entire leg was on fire. Fuck it hurt. He was going to drive his spear through that bastard Bill’s throat if it was the last thing he ever did. At least the pain was useful, it helped keep him awake, although he was currently balancing that fine line between staying conscious but not throwing up from the agony.

As his vision swam he blinked a few times to focus on the stranger. “He… said it was… a sign… message. Mercy.” he added trying to laugh but the sounding coming out wet and gurgling before he shuddered and hissed in pain.

He gave up speaking, feeling too exhausted, winded and sore to continue speaking for the moment, he tried to summon Blut once more hoping it could perhaps dull the pain or, at least, slow the bleeding which was still running around freely down his chest. Unfortunately although the Reishi swam around him for a moment but he failed to conjure enough to flood his bloodstream. Shit.

Once he caught his breath he ventured another attempt at speech. “Don-don’t suppose… you’ve any fancy… healing magic?” he attempted with a wry smile. He’d met a Spiritualist back home who could heal, he was something of a Druid really, but he’d never heard of a Quincy that was capable of much more than destruction, or creating tools for destruction, so it was a bit of a vain hope.
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Post by Kevin DuBrow Wed Jul 08, 2020 3:43 pm

”I don’t, but I can get you to someone who does,” Kevin said in English as he let the gathered particles dissipate so he can use his phone without worrying about blasting it to pieces. After quickly punching in explanation to Meridith and asking her for a location to meet with this guy, he put it back in his pocket and waited for a buzz back.

”There’s lots of those fuckers out lately. Don’t worry, my friend’ll be able to fix you up. One of them broke my leg a while back too, but she got me up and running again.” Kevin intimately knew the kinds of pain this guy’s leg must be in, but it looked like he’d fared worse in his throwdown. Examining the wounds, Kevin supposed that the lack of scorching meant the Shinigami that had recently fled the scene hadn’t been the same wizard type he’d run into.

A vibration from his pocket pulled Kevin’s eyes down. With a smile at Meridith’s instructions, he looked back to the wincing fellow. ”Good news, champ. The doctor has an opening. C’mon, let’s get you moving. This might hurt a bit, so tell me if you need me to set you down.”

With that, Kevin took off from the scene, the stranger held in his arms. He wasn’t as lightweight as Meridith, but Kevin’s strong athlete build made it an easy task. He’d almost gotten a storefront away when he suddenly threw on the brakes, turned back around, and slid the taco bag into the lap of the injured man. A few seconds wouldn’t make or break his survival, but Meridith was sure to need something to eat after the amount of energy she’d be spending trying to patch him up.

\\EXIT
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