Post by Orin on Apr 4, 2012 2:58:34 GMT
...With A Vengence 2-2-2
(For previous post, see The Seeker 2-1, final post in that series is the actually ...With A Vengeance 2-2-1)
Orin now had a plan, but the first part was going to be the hardest: getting to the Slums. He would be exposed the entire time, and he was still quite unfamiliar with the Oceanic District. However, with the Slums being an adjacent region to the Oceanic District, Orin did have the fortunate advantage of being able to travel a relatively short distance. Yet, the task still seemed quite impossible; the District was a maze of upscale skyscrapers and rundown alleyways. His journey to the Slums would be grueling, and he would have to stick to crowded streets where he could blend in and be lost in the masses or travel via the sewers...that last option--a smelly one. Orin knew that a sure way to avoid the eye of the APM law enforcement above would be to go into the sewers below, but how could he navigate down there? Surely, the sewer system was just as complex as the streets above, and further more he was completely unfamiliar with finding his way down there. It would be a very difficult task, but probably more safe. Orin eyed the manhole over to the left of him. It was a stand-off, between him and that iron portal to a smelly sanctuary that guaranteed security...with a price. Orin looked both ways down the street which was astonishingly quiet for an Apothos road; there were no cars or people. He walked over to the man hole and stood over it for a good long time; I can't believe I am about to do this, he thought. Orin lifted the cover, took a deep breath, and entered the sewers of Apothos.
The smell could be described as--pungent and acrid. Orin's nose stung at first whiff of the sewers' stench, but against all odds, he got used to the fumes and found the courage to replace the manhole cover so that none would know where he entered the sewers. The tunnels were dark, but that obviously didn't bother Orin--all he knew was darkness. What really bothered him were the sounds. It was surprisingly quiet in the sewers, despite the constant white noise generated by the sound of flowing drain water. However, every now and then, Orin found himself startled by scratching at the walls or the echo of footsteps forming across a metal grate in some far off sewer tunnel. He kept his guard up at all times, waiting for something to happen. It was just too quiet in the sewers, and Orin began to wonder if he should have just tried his luck on the roads above. No, he scolded himself, that was a bad idea. He was simply on edge from his past experiences; this was the tactic he used to reason with himself. Orin kept himself focused as he followed the sewers in the general direction of the Slums, being cautious of maintain his forward progress in the maze of sewer tunnels. The Slums would be a hard target to miss, considering their relative size to the other regions of Apothos.
However, after another hour of walking, Orin's resolve began to waver; the sounds had not gone away. Orin could still hear the scratching on the tunnel walls, a pebble being kicked across a grate, and Orin swore he could detect someone's pattern of breathing. Yet, the biggest confirmation of Orin's worries came when he realized that the distant footsteps he heard had been getting louder and then, all of the sudden, they became very quiet. It was as if the source of the footsteps had approached Orin's location, and then fell into darkness, into nothing; or as if the sounds had been created by some apparition which had suddenly left this world. Chills crept up Orin's spine and into his neck. Something had to be following him; he was sure of it. But, if it, whatever "it" was, planned to ambush him, Orin would have to be one step ahead. He continued walking as if he heard nothing at all, attempting to lull any possible assailants into a false sense of imminent success. This plan, though thought of in a moment, forced a follower to either read take a chance on attacking, give up the chase, or read Orin's mind. It was not fool-proof; Orin still had to have the readiness to fend off a threat at a moment's notice should an ambush commence.
That was when Orin constructed the situations puzzle pieces together in his mind; that was when the strange sounds all made sense. The heavy, sporadic breathing, the sudden vanishing of the footsteps--the water! Orin tilted his head just in time to hear a small, quiet splash, his assailant had been tailing him my swimming and was now emerging from the water flow in the sewers. Orin kept walking and remained perfectly calm, on the outside; his mind was a flurry of activity with little time to think. Orin determined the individual following him to be a roughly six feet tall, taller than himself. Orin sensed the person standing and drawing some sort of weapon, a long curved sword--was that a katana? Then, the quick pattering sound of an extremely light-footed sprint reached his ears. In a flash, Orin dove off the side of the sewer walkway and into the water, barely dodging his opponent's downward slice which planted firmly on the sewer's metal grate walkway sending sparks everywhere. Orin emerged on the opposite walkway drawing his shotgun and facing his opponent. "Looks like you brought a knife to a gun fight." Orin yelled smugly over the sound of the now gushing water (it must have been raining above).
Orin facing his opponent smiled cocked the lever on his shotgun; then, something metallic deflected off of the barrel of his shotgun and planted firmly into his shoulder, sending striations of pain through his chest. Orin yelled, pulling a throwing knife out of his shoulder. What?! This is just stupid! Orin thought. The wound was not deep, but it was a devastating blow to Orin's pride. He stood from his hunched position to perceive two assailants across the waterway, both with swords drawn. "Okay, NOT fair." Orin yelled. The two assassins smiled but only one approached Orin's position on a small metal bridge across the walkway. Orin fired off a round of buck at the man, but he, with some in-human speed, managed to duck and roll forward dodging the shot. Before Orin could even operate the lever to chamber another shell in his shotgun, the swordsman was on his side of the sewer tunnel and upon him. Orin's shotgun was knocked from his grasp and quickly kicked away from his reach. The sword swipes came rapidly at that moment causing Orin to back toward the sewer's waterway ledge. Orin's was out of ideas, or maybe it was that he could not think of anything at that moment. The furious cuts of the katana were getting closer and closer to Orin each time he dodged; he had to act fast.
Then, Orin noted a two and a half foot piece of thin pipe on the walkway, but the swordsman was between him and the makeshift weapon. Without thinking, Orin slung his pack off his shoulders and tossed it in the face of the assassin, who stumbled, if only for a moment. Taking advantage of the fault, Orin charged the man ramming into him and knocking him away. Rolling forward, Orin grabbed the pipe just in time to turn and meet an over head slice from the katana. Orin was now blocking the swipes and backing up toward his own shotgun. That was when he got lucky; the soldier brought down a powerful overhead cut and Orin hit the flatside of the katana with his pipe, breaking the sword in half. Orin remembered that katana's were brittle if hit at the correct angle. The soldier was stunned, for a second, but that was all it took. Orin dove for his shotgun, cocked the lever, and turned just as the assassin was going to stab him with the broken katana. Orin pulled the trigger at almost zero range into the man's abdomen. The aftermath would have been a lesson in anatomy for Orin, had he been able to see; a person's insides were not supposed to look like that. The man stumbled and fell into the water, floating face down into the darkness of the sewers.
But, there was still one more assassin in the battle, and he wasted no time reaching Orin. Once again, Orin was unable to use his shotgun quickly enough, and his pack with his pistol and rifle in it were behind the assassin now.
Orin drew his machete.
The man stopped his charge short and backed away a little. Orin tossed down his trench coat, which had been weighing him down with over twenty-pounds of ammunition. Readying himself, he lifted his machete behind his head, keeping it pointed at the assailant. Orin waved the man on, and the dual began. The soldier swung downward and then up again, strikes which Orin skillfully dodged. Without the weight of his coat, Orin was moving much more quickly. The ambient noise gave Orin a perfect picture of the battle as he rolled behind the man slicing at his vest. A hit. The vest the assassin wore was thick and contained extra throwing knives...and adrenaline syringes. Orin ignored those for now as he noted that his successful slice only managed to tear the tactical vest of his enemy. He rolled backward and readied himself for the next charge. Orin, instead of dodging the blow, decided to meet it full on with a strong block. Orin was almost knocked over by the man's strength of swing. He stumbled and the man made a follow up slice that grazed Orin's arm, sending a red ribbon cut down the length of his forearm. He clenched his teeth and fought through the pain, parrying blow after blow from the assailant (straight-up blocks were too strong for him). Orin waited for his time, his chance when the smallest weakness in the man's guard would open up.
There it was, the man raised his katana for a blow that would be too strong to be parried or blocked. Orin dove forward, tackling the man knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him. Orin grabbed a throwing knife from the man's vest and pinned it through his wrist on his sword arm; the soldier swung up with a left upper cut that connected with Orin's right cheek. Grinding his teeth, Orin was dazed for only a moment; he spat blood and plunged his machete under the man's left arm, lodging it directly in his heart. Orin fell off the assassin and stumbled into a standing position as he leaned himself up against the sewer wall and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion. The dead soldier's leg twitched several times before growing still.
Orin walked over to the corpse and pulled his machete from the man's body. This one was not a Hunter; he was stronger and more nimble. Plus, Hunters were never trained to use swords; they just used guns. Orin considered how fortunate he was: if those assassins had had guns, he would have died before he had detected them. If they had used their throwing knives, Orin would not have been able to react in time. He was very lucky, and still he was hurt. He felt the side of his face swelling but the cut on his arm had stopped bleeding; that was good. As he examined the corpse of the assassin he noted a coin in one of the vest pockets of the assassin. It had a dragon, just like the Hunter's but in the background was a skull. Orin did not know what this meant, but he held on to it for future reference. He rolled the body into the waterway and grabbed his pack, shotgun, and trench coat; his sunglasses has stayed on his face the whole time.
(For previous post, see The Seeker 2-1, final post in that series is the actually ...With A Vengeance 2-2-1)
Orin now had a plan, but the first part was going to be the hardest: getting to the Slums. He would be exposed the entire time, and he was still quite unfamiliar with the Oceanic District. However, with the Slums being an adjacent region to the Oceanic District, Orin did have the fortunate advantage of being able to travel a relatively short distance. Yet, the task still seemed quite impossible; the District was a maze of upscale skyscrapers and rundown alleyways. His journey to the Slums would be grueling, and he would have to stick to crowded streets where he could blend in and be lost in the masses or travel via the sewers...that last option--a smelly one. Orin knew that a sure way to avoid the eye of the APM law enforcement above would be to go into the sewers below, but how could he navigate down there? Surely, the sewer system was just as complex as the streets above, and further more he was completely unfamiliar with finding his way down there. It would be a very difficult task, but probably more safe. Orin eyed the manhole over to the left of him. It was a stand-off, between him and that iron portal to a smelly sanctuary that guaranteed security...with a price. Orin looked both ways down the street which was astonishingly quiet for an Apothos road; there were no cars or people. He walked over to the man hole and stood over it for a good long time; I can't believe I am about to do this, he thought. Orin lifted the cover, took a deep breath, and entered the sewers of Apothos.
The smell could be described as--pungent and acrid. Orin's nose stung at first whiff of the sewers' stench, but against all odds, he got used to the fumes and found the courage to replace the manhole cover so that none would know where he entered the sewers. The tunnels were dark, but that obviously didn't bother Orin--all he knew was darkness. What really bothered him were the sounds. It was surprisingly quiet in the sewers, despite the constant white noise generated by the sound of flowing drain water. However, every now and then, Orin found himself startled by scratching at the walls or the echo of footsteps forming across a metal grate in some far off sewer tunnel. He kept his guard up at all times, waiting for something to happen. It was just too quiet in the sewers, and Orin began to wonder if he should have just tried his luck on the roads above. No, he scolded himself, that was a bad idea. He was simply on edge from his past experiences; this was the tactic he used to reason with himself. Orin kept himself focused as he followed the sewers in the general direction of the Slums, being cautious of maintain his forward progress in the maze of sewer tunnels. The Slums would be a hard target to miss, considering their relative size to the other regions of Apothos.
However, after another hour of walking, Orin's resolve began to waver; the sounds had not gone away. Orin could still hear the scratching on the tunnel walls, a pebble being kicked across a grate, and Orin swore he could detect someone's pattern of breathing. Yet, the biggest confirmation of Orin's worries came when he realized that the distant footsteps he heard had been getting louder and then, all of the sudden, they became very quiet. It was as if the source of the footsteps had approached Orin's location, and then fell into darkness, into nothing; or as if the sounds had been created by some apparition which had suddenly left this world. Chills crept up Orin's spine and into his neck. Something had to be following him; he was sure of it. But, if it, whatever "it" was, planned to ambush him, Orin would have to be one step ahead. He continued walking as if he heard nothing at all, attempting to lull any possible assailants into a false sense of imminent success. This plan, though thought of in a moment, forced a follower to either read take a chance on attacking, give up the chase, or read Orin's mind. It was not fool-proof; Orin still had to have the readiness to fend off a threat at a moment's notice should an ambush commence.
That was when Orin constructed the situations puzzle pieces together in his mind; that was when the strange sounds all made sense. The heavy, sporadic breathing, the sudden vanishing of the footsteps--the water! Orin tilted his head just in time to hear a small, quiet splash, his assailant had been tailing him my swimming and was now emerging from the water flow in the sewers. Orin kept walking and remained perfectly calm, on the outside; his mind was a flurry of activity with little time to think. Orin determined the individual following him to be a roughly six feet tall, taller than himself. Orin sensed the person standing and drawing some sort of weapon, a long curved sword--was that a katana? Then, the quick pattering sound of an extremely light-footed sprint reached his ears. In a flash, Orin dove off the side of the sewer walkway and into the water, barely dodging his opponent's downward slice which planted firmly on the sewer's metal grate walkway sending sparks everywhere. Orin emerged on the opposite walkway drawing his shotgun and facing his opponent. "Looks like you brought a knife to a gun fight." Orin yelled smugly over the sound of the now gushing water (it must have been raining above).
Orin facing his opponent smiled cocked the lever on his shotgun; then, something metallic deflected off of the barrel of his shotgun and planted firmly into his shoulder, sending striations of pain through his chest. Orin yelled, pulling a throwing knife out of his shoulder. What?! This is just stupid! Orin thought. The wound was not deep, but it was a devastating blow to Orin's pride. He stood from his hunched position to perceive two assailants across the waterway, both with swords drawn. "Okay, NOT fair." Orin yelled. The two assassins smiled but only one approached Orin's position on a small metal bridge across the walkway. Orin fired off a round of buck at the man, but he, with some in-human speed, managed to duck and roll forward dodging the shot. Before Orin could even operate the lever to chamber another shell in his shotgun, the swordsman was on his side of the sewer tunnel and upon him. Orin's shotgun was knocked from his grasp and quickly kicked away from his reach. The sword swipes came rapidly at that moment causing Orin to back toward the sewer's waterway ledge. Orin's was out of ideas, or maybe it was that he could not think of anything at that moment. The furious cuts of the katana were getting closer and closer to Orin each time he dodged; he had to act fast.
Then, Orin noted a two and a half foot piece of thin pipe on the walkway, but the swordsman was between him and the makeshift weapon. Without thinking, Orin slung his pack off his shoulders and tossed it in the face of the assassin, who stumbled, if only for a moment. Taking advantage of the fault, Orin charged the man ramming into him and knocking him away. Rolling forward, Orin grabbed the pipe just in time to turn and meet an over head slice from the katana. Orin was now blocking the swipes and backing up toward his own shotgun. That was when he got lucky; the soldier brought down a powerful overhead cut and Orin hit the flatside of the katana with his pipe, breaking the sword in half. Orin remembered that katana's were brittle if hit at the correct angle. The soldier was stunned, for a second, but that was all it took. Orin dove for his shotgun, cocked the lever, and turned just as the assassin was going to stab him with the broken katana. Orin pulled the trigger at almost zero range into the man's abdomen. The aftermath would have been a lesson in anatomy for Orin, had he been able to see; a person's insides were not supposed to look like that. The man stumbled and fell into the water, floating face down into the darkness of the sewers.
But, there was still one more assassin in the battle, and he wasted no time reaching Orin. Once again, Orin was unable to use his shotgun quickly enough, and his pack with his pistol and rifle in it were behind the assassin now.
Orin drew his machete.
The man stopped his charge short and backed away a little. Orin tossed down his trench coat, which had been weighing him down with over twenty-pounds of ammunition. Readying himself, he lifted his machete behind his head, keeping it pointed at the assailant. Orin waved the man on, and the dual began. The soldier swung downward and then up again, strikes which Orin skillfully dodged. Without the weight of his coat, Orin was moving much more quickly. The ambient noise gave Orin a perfect picture of the battle as he rolled behind the man slicing at his vest. A hit. The vest the assassin wore was thick and contained extra throwing knives...and adrenaline syringes. Orin ignored those for now as he noted that his successful slice only managed to tear the tactical vest of his enemy. He rolled backward and readied himself for the next charge. Orin, instead of dodging the blow, decided to meet it full on with a strong block. Orin was almost knocked over by the man's strength of swing. He stumbled and the man made a follow up slice that grazed Orin's arm, sending a red ribbon cut down the length of his forearm. He clenched his teeth and fought through the pain, parrying blow after blow from the assailant (straight-up blocks were too strong for him). Orin waited for his time, his chance when the smallest weakness in the man's guard would open up.
There it was, the man raised his katana for a blow that would be too strong to be parried or blocked. Orin dove forward, tackling the man knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him. Orin grabbed a throwing knife from the man's vest and pinned it through his wrist on his sword arm; the soldier swung up with a left upper cut that connected with Orin's right cheek. Grinding his teeth, Orin was dazed for only a moment; he spat blood and plunged his machete under the man's left arm, lodging it directly in his heart. Orin fell off the assassin and stumbled into a standing position as he leaned himself up against the sewer wall and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion. The dead soldier's leg twitched several times before growing still.
Orin walked over to the corpse and pulled his machete from the man's body. This one was not a Hunter; he was stronger and more nimble. Plus, Hunters were never trained to use swords; they just used guns. Orin considered how fortunate he was: if those assassins had had guns, he would have died before he had detected them. If they had used their throwing knives, Orin would not have been able to react in time. He was very lucky, and still he was hurt. He felt the side of his face swelling but the cut on his arm had stopped bleeding; that was good. As he examined the corpse of the assassin he noted a coin in one of the vest pockets of the assassin. It had a dragon, just like the Hunter's but in the background was a skull. Orin did not know what this meant, but he held on to it for future reference. He rolled the body into the waterway and grabbed his pack, shotgun, and trench coat; his sunglasses has stayed on his face the whole time.