It's time to party!

[atailoftwoworlds]

Who: Anyone!
What: After all the shit that went down in August and September and to help the newbies get settled, it's time for a party!
When: 26th October
Where: Outside the Denny
Warnings: Label any relevant warnings in your posts! Otherwise none that I can think of.

[It took a while to organise but it’s finally here! Outside the Denny is a warm fire with dragon meat and all sorts of other meat cooking on it. There is also food strewn on tables and various modern music in the background thanks to Michael’s phone.

Not only that but there are also games on a few separate tables provided by the Denny.

Feel free to bring your own food, drinks and games. Maybe you’re even helping cook some of the food yourself? Or you are keeping watch to make sure nobody causes any trouble! Or are you the person causing trouble yourself? Of course, none of you would dare do that, would you? WOULD YOU???? Or are you having a dance? Or maybe you're that wallflower who is just sitting there drinking and refusing to talk to people? Either way, feel free to come up with your own prompts!]

Comments

[lesbeau]

[What the hell is up with this guy? Beau tenses as Faust springs to action, hands clenching just out of reflex when he moves, but he seems to be getting ready to... fight her? Didn't he just want to not do that? It's not that Beau won't throw down right here, but it seems more like this was a careful ruse than it was an actual commend. She squints towards him for a few more moments before giving a little scoff.]

If you wanted to fight me you could just say so.

[But she wastes no time in giving him any more opportunity to set up, instead running towards him as the ki surges in her arm to deliver a flurry of blows to his chest and hopefully face... provided there's a face under that bag. Sure. Her strikes are also naturally ki empowered by this point in her training, so he might also be able to feel the extra oomph behind each one.]

[wanderingdoctorfaust]

In spite of the earlier unflattering comments intended to provoke, the good doctor decides against chuckling in response to his opponent's brazen and simplistic aggression. The young lady may have youth and spirit on her side, but it is still embarrassingly easy for him to cup his palms outwards and shift his stance in preparation to receive her first strike, anticipating the right moment to snap his hands shut and disable her. Clearly, someone hasn't been learning their lessons in underestimating opponents.
The first attack comes. He remains still, waits for his moment, and...!

"-wh-?!"

His hands make contact with her forearms, but where he was expecting skin, he only finds thin layers of pure spiritual energy gently pushing his fingers back as if he were trying to shove them through the surface of water. Decades-old memories of medical school and martial arts training in the old monastery come rushing back to the good doctor unbidden, the shock of this new revelation threatening to send his entire mind reeling.
Ki. This young lady is a Ki user. It's unmistakable in the way it subtly brushes him off, in the way it accelerates the speed of her closed fist, in the way it shunts forth into his body upon contact and sends nauseating vibrations through his solar plexus.

It's all he can do to even sputter, saliva expelled from underneath his bag from the enhanced force of Beau's punch, threatening to stagger his entire body before several more strikes come his way and sending him stumbling backwards anyway. Multiple clean hits leave his ribs crying out in betrayal and his skull horrified at its owner's failure to protect them, mind still refusing to cooperate until this new mystery is resolved.
Fortunately, where the brain fails, instinct prevails. Falling about like a drunkard he may be, Faust's body still attempts to use the knockback from the assault to increase the distance between him and the annoyed monk.

And sure enough, once he's gotten even the slightest bit of ground, a distraction is deployed: Each fist into Faust's bag-bound face thus far has met with a barely-protected jaw, as one would expect - the bag is very much not built to cushion blows.
The next hit, however, ends up scrunching the bag inward entirely as if empty, and a bulging eyeball catapults out of the good doctor's eyehole like a stress toy that just got stepped on.

"OUCHIES!!!"

Here's hoping she's taken aback long enough to not notice one of his five-foot-and-a-bit-long legs coming around for a ki-infused sweep at her knees...!

[lesbeau]

[Frankly, she's expecting him to have some kind of defense. Guys that talk a big game like this or want to play bouncer have to have some trick up her sleeve, but she figures it's something she can conquer if it's not immediately visible or outwardly threatening. For instance, he sure is tall, so that's something-- but it's just height. She's thinking her hits will do a little better.

And it works for a bit, until suddenly the last hit doesn't connect like it's supposed to and she thinks she might've popped his eye out. She takes a step back, bringing a hand up just to stop it from (presumably) landing in her mouth or something, blocking her line of sight from the floor. Of course, that's enough for his foot to come colliding into the side of her kneecap, and she folds the direction of the blow. Thankfully for her, she's good at catching, and just as soon as she starts going down her hands hit the floor and spring into a flip to get them back into fighting stance. It hurts, sure, but she's still up-- even though now he has the advantage, still having her in hand-to-hand range while she'll have to take a step closer to hit him.]

You're not screaming a lot for a guy whose eyeball just came outta his face. That bothers most people.