Dec 24, 2009 10:49
I guess I lost a month somewhere, since it's apparently December now. Well, merry Christmas or whatever holiday everyone celebrates in the winter!
[ Rookie can be non-denominational, see? If anyone's looking for him, they'll find him on the snowy jogging track on Deck Two, out for a run in his armor. What? It's warm! And also face-obscuring. ]
!commentlog,
let it snow,
this boat is weird,
!the arbiter
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He knows that armor. He's slain countless of your types of soldiers. And he can't believe one of you has shown up here.]
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An Elite in weird armor. Rookie hadn't seen that armor before. Then again, he hadn't exactly seen an Elite since stepping foot in New Mombasa which was just strange. But no matter. He pipes up.]
You.
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Even here, your race tries to plague and halt the Great Journey. Your heresy will end here, by my hands.
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Only 'Great Journey' here's gonna be my boot going up your ass.
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The cur finds the courage to speak! Your last words will be your begs for mercy! Prepare yourself, worthless human, for total decimation by my divine hand!
((OOC: It can be fight time naow? :> ))
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[ He shifts on his feet, getting ready to dodge or lunge. Well. Merry Christmas? ]
((Fight tiem can totally be nao :D))
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The first swing of his blade comes hard and fast, aimed for the Rookie's stomach.]
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Instead he dashes for the wall. If the Rookie won't let go, he's just going to smash him.]
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He's still got an arm free, though. And there's an awful lot of armor plating that he can grab onto. The Rookie tries to use their momentum to hop high enough to nab Ripa's shoulder plate. ]
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[The Arbiter resumes trying to dislodge the ODST through force.]
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[ Ow. OW. OW! The Rookie, dangling off a mass of armored fury, is finally starting to wonder if he bit off more than he could chew. He bites back the pain, swinging his legs in a half-cocked attempt to kick the Elite somewhere that isn't covered in silver armor. ]
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