Battle with Lazav pyr Docro

[00:02] Acheron Erebus says, "......"
[00:03] Acheron Erebus says, "..."
[00:03] Lazav pyr Docro says, "Hello."
[00:03] Acheron Erebus says, "I've had my eyes on this place for a while."
[00:04] Lazav pyr Docro says, "Mmmn."
[00:04] Acheron Erebus says, "So I suspect that I'll be recieving the keys and loot to this place."
[00:04] Ichimakase asks, "KEYS?"
[00:04] Ichimakase says, "NO KEYS."
[00:04] Lazav pyr Docro says, "I haven't peered through the coffers yet."
[00:04] Acheron Erebus says, "Fuck it, keys to the chest."
[00:04] Lazav pyr Docro says, "Though, you may buy the place from me, if you so desire."
[00:04] Acheron Erebus says, "....."
[00:04] Acheron Erebus says, "Why don't you give me the keys, so I can see if it's worth it."
[00:05] Lazav pyr Docro says, "That's not how it works, pal."
[00:05] Acheron Erebus says, "Or."
[00:05] Acheron Erebus says, "I can shatter your legs."
[00:05] Acheron Erebus says, "And have you crawl home begging for your parents."
[00:05] Acheron Erebus says, "Your choice."
[00:12] It takes a rather dull click of his tongue for a reaction to be gauged. Lazav's rather lackadaisical and even subtly cheery disposition doesn't just change or modally shift, it sees him warped into a completely different personality.

The distinct angelical qualities of his voice, androgynous in pitch, grow stark and somber; Lazav speaks through naught but clenched teeth.

"You're picking a horrible day to do this." He utters. Not Lazav, but the personality of the Ace of Hearts, since then taken over of his faculties. A pungent miasma darkens the room, tenfold stronger than before... enough so for the feline to take clear note of how intrusive it's become.

"I'm going to shatter much more than your legs if you speak to me in that tone again, punk."

Tendrils of black thorny vines carve through the underground, erupting from the floorboards of the estate and soon overcoming the small room in nigh whole with their oppressive might.

"You're either buying, or you're losing."
(Lazav pyr Docro)
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[00:22] It was a steady job that was risky at heart. Despite the odds of landing on fortunes, profiting off of people who forgot to pay their taxes.

Or ending up spending more money than you bargained for. Ending with nothing but dust bunnies collecting in the far corner.

"Is this your first time doing this sort of thing? Because a boar is more intimidating than you."

His lips thinned as he stared at the child annoyed. Disinterest flared within their hues as he could tell their age based off of their mannerism.

They lacked the finesse to stand out amongst the room. The stature that showed significance without saying a word.

To him?

He saw a self-centered brat who didn't know anything better than how to suck on their mother's teat. A hooligan that was spoiled by riches and a title which they probably hid behind.

His tongue clicked as he rose his hand forward, drawing a digit towards his opposable thumb, he fired off a metaphysical blow towards them.

The weight of the world brushed by them, Striking the wall behind them as the wall itself exploded from his force.

No more words were spared as he offered them a warning of what they were stepping into, a gift of sorts as his other hand rose, taking aim towards their frame as he fired off another shot.

Not caring for any consequences that may come from this encounter.
(Acheron Erebus)
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[00:22] * You have been awarded 1 Roleplay Points! *
[00:35] {Won Dangerous RPB against Lazav pyr Docro}
[00:35] ** Acheron Erebus has inflicted an injury upon Lazav pyr Docro. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "Duration: Medium (2 days)") **
[01:08] Acheron held little care towards those who bared ignorance.

He didn't even care to acknowledge the individual before him as prey. No, they were less than that praise.

Golden pearls watched as the individual stood their ground, momentarily shifting to find an edge on his frame where there was in fact. None.

Manipulating reality underneath his whim, controlling all vectors as he forced towards his will.

A faint frown fell upon his face at the sigh of the thorny black tendrils tore through the wooden floor boards. Showing that there was certainly something unusual about the character that stood before them.

With miasma filling the room. Bringing about an everlasting shadow that damped their surroundings with nothing but it's poison.

Acheron cracked a smile.

"I'm a bad match up for you."

Sparing those few words, he took a step back. Succumbing towards the darkness that he called home. Embracing his creation as he deemed himself the monarch of shadows. The living manifestation of such a creation. The entity deemed worthy of being the singularity that stood above the rest.

He was, Acheron Erebus.

The shadows crawled against their surroundings, slowly taking form as they moved towards his call. Quickly turning any odds into his favor. As the approach was slow, black tendrils ripping from the seams, striking away at the child's frame while tearing away at their own vines. Drawing blood with each strike.

Blood sprayed the walls as the onslaught continued.

Despite any cries or wild calling. No matter how hard they attempted to run away from their grasp. They'd find themselves encased in his palm. Allowing him to do whatever he pleased, whenever he wanted.

Crystals and occultic energies battled back, managing to strike away at his form despite his crafty nature. Tearing away at his own armor as metal crumbled to the ground, protecting him from their grasp.

But their attempts were naught but futile as metaphysical blows assaulted their character. Slamming them against the wall, creating craters of their frame as they crashed into the surroundings like a disjointed ragdoll.

Before long, his interest finally faded as he tossed their limp body towards the ground. Battered and broken as bruises and cuts riddled their body. Untold damage were caused towards their internal organs, but physically. Anyone could tell that they've been through hell in back.

Steps echoed from the shadows as he approached the berated figure.

With one short motion from his hand, he forced them to their knees. Holding them in place against their will as he towered over them.

"Well this was fun wasn't it?" pearly white teeth flashed within the shadows as his visage revealed itself.

"We didn't have to go about it this way now did we?"

Reaching forward, he grabbed the teen by their hair. Forcing them to look up towards him.

"Now did we?"

He threw their head to the side as he waved a hand before them. Filling their mind with loose temptations. A deep feeling of warmth quickly enveloped them. Ridding them of any agonizing pain as peaceful thoughts quickly plagued their mind.

Transforming any acts towards one's of help, changing any demeaning words into ones of encouragement. Transforming the bratty child into one of valor and promise. A simple illusion that could simply be undone if a trained magi severed his connection towards them.

"Now that you'll be acting correct now, would you mind lending me the keys to see what was inside of this house?"
(Acheron Erebus)
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[01:28] There's practically not a single corner of the world in which he can hide. This event in particular places a tight seal on it; the cruelness of the world overcoming those less than pompous intentions. This place was ripe naught for games, and the beatdown he suffers at the hands of Acheron - a sixteen-or-so-year-old with an image of himself elevated enough to put Nikolai himself to shame - signifies yet another fracture on that already oh-so-vulnerable psyche of his.

The redhead bellows in a strained and abused whimper, the wounds from Taka's crystal abrasion still ripe and open, bleeding at the seams in spots Acheron hadn't even dared strike.

Shakily, the key drops, whilst the yet cloudy onset of the unwilling occultist becomes all the more turbulent. He can't make one out of two; nor two out of three.

"Enjoy the coffers." The young Docro claims, his body practically at the verge of collapse from the continuous dismal beatings. A hand languidly swats the grip off, before Lazav haphazardly grips the shengese beastkin's wrist and slumps out through the door, a trail of blood and wilted petals behind him.

Luck be with this crook when he revises the chests.
(Lazav pyr Docro)