[FIN] M n' M [Mort & Molly]

[Lucyal]

Now Molly was usually an easy going individual…but dealing with something that had a connection to her past…

It did not make her that easy going and forgiving individual. “Don’t you preach that to me!” She cried, and then let out another pained yelp as Mort delivered a solid hit, her body shuddering painfully electricity coursed through her body. A good chunk was taken out of her FEAR shield as well. “Scaring…sneaking up…being taught how to do that…you’re all monsters!” She made a weakened jab at him, but it was enough for Vaska to absorb some more FEAR and to hum with the signal that he was ready. “Please tell that to my little sister, who was scared to death!”

HP: 18/40
DMG: 3
Charge 3/3  

[medigel]

It was the strangest feeling welling up in him, not one that he could clearly identify. Pity? Sympathy even? He had never had anything of the like when dealing with Hunters, though granted most he had dealt with were of the boasting, self-righteous type. This one was . . . not necessarily different per se, but of a separate breed nonetheless. Mort frowned at her for several seconds more even as the lance jabbed at him again, winging as he pushed it away: blood was seeping into his clothes now, and the zomboil was pretty sure that at least one rib was now broken.

He didn't speak for a few moments afterwards as he pressed a hand to the most injured area of his body, the rib cage, and held up another defensively such as how Yin had taught. ". . . M'sorry," he said after a while, unable to believe he was saying it and yet meaning it. "Cannot speak for losing sibling, b-but . . . is not Halloween intention to take life. Mistakes happen; frowned 'pom for k-killing."

A lame response and certainly not a consoling one, but it was the truth as far as he knew.

HP: 22
Defending: 4  

[Lucyal]

Molly shook her head vehemently once more, her lips pulled into a deep frown.

“I don’t want to hear it. Those words mean nothing from your kind. They don’t fix anything. To say sorry means it will never happen again, but as long as you all exist, it will.” She held her lance out, and the drill bit of her weapon whirled to life, a metallic scream filling the air. “A mistake…” She choked out. “How can you sum up an innocent life to that?”

Defending or not, Molly was ready to unleash a world of hurt, and she did. With a rather confident step, she thrust her spinning weapon right at the zomboil.

HP: 18/40
DMG: 18
Charge 0/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

A world of hurt indeed greeted him in spite of his attempt to defend himself. The spinning lance drilled right through him, breaking his arm off at the joint as it pierced to his chest with a horrendous screech of metal on bone. Blood immediately filled his lungs and bubbled out from his mouth in rivers, and the bones of his ribcage caved in on what was left of his internal organs; red bleached everything and out onto the ground.

Mort trembled - twitched more like - under the weapon, but his eyes were directly on the Hunter even as they too began to look a bit pinker. He couldn't even wrestle up hatred for her at this point, just . . . whatever this mixed emotion was. No magazine of his mother's had ever prepared him for the complexity of feelings, much less the split opinions on humans - or Hunters.

So he just stared as he remained pinned to the wall, his body too much in shock from the amount of damage done in one swing. Then, a gurgle, a flash of red-stained teeth. "C-C . . . an't . . ."

How could he speak despite his chest having a new hole? Magic.

"Would . . . w-would k-k-kill all for . . . mistakes . . . of f-few . . .?"

HP: 22 - 14 (4 blocked) = 8  

[Lucyal]

It was almost frightening, to see blood pour forth from the creature underneath her weapon. Molly had this…really bad habit of disassociating herself from incredibly graphic and possibly traumatic circumstances. This was no exception.

While her eyes were widened in horror for a moment, she managed to rein herself in as she stepped back, taking her weapon with her. She’d never seen her lance drenched in so much red before…She raised her weapon, and then flicked it with a strong arm, ridding of it of some of the excess blood. “I will do what needs to be done…” She replied quietly, solemnly. “To make sure that what happened to me, happens to no one else.”

HP: 18/40
DMG: 0
Charge 0/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

It was weird to admit, but Mort admired that sort of resolve. His own will could waver under pressure, sad to say; something to work at, but a weakness all the same. Or . . . maybe it wasn't. Could he have known that compassion worked on these Hunters, that defending rather than attacking would get one ghoul Hunter to stop her attack in the near future?

Compassion wasn't in him today, not in a large enough quantity to let this fight stop so easily. It was clear she was willing to execute him; it would be a discourtesy to pull punches at this point.

Peeling himself off the wall, Mort wiped blood from his mouth and flicked it off to the side just as she had done with her weapon. His body creaked and protested the thought of continuing on, but that was the thing about the undead: they persisted even after their bodies had hit their limit. "Holey" or not, this Hunter was about to learn what it was like to fight against one who was not deterred by a crushed chest cavity.

As solemn as her response was, Mort gave a quick nod to her, the shortest conveyance of his respect for that same gritty determination, before inching himself at her like an animal. One arm might be gone and his other fractured, but his teeth were still useful: his jaws opened wide as he tried to grab one of her arms and bite down.

HP: 8
Damage: 3  

[Lucyal]

She didn’t want to be here anymore. This was too unreal yet too close to home at the same time. All her past experiences with Halloween had been rather impersonal at best. She never really conversed with one before, or had spent this long of time up-close and staring at one.

Molly had, unfortunately, let herself get caught up in her thoughts though, and the next thing she knew, he was biting into her arm. Luckily the hunter wore a long sleeved coat, and then a long sleeved sweater underneath, so Mort wasn’t breaking into any skin. Yet. It still hurt regardless. Molly let out a cry as her eyes widened, and she shook her arm wildly, trying to get him off.

HP: 15/40
DMG: 0
Charge 0/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

Just a bit more, a little bit more, he could almost taste the skin now -

Oomph. Nope, that was ground. Meal denied.

Mort had taken a bit of a tumble from being pried off, but tired as he was he still forced himself up, spitting out more blood to the side - sadly not hers. He eyed the tear in her sleeve, then looked back at her, bent a bit as he caught his breath.

"Mrr . . . U-Used be human," he found himself saying as he locked eyes with the ghoul. "Who knows. Maybe sister i-is here too."

A taunt, or an attempt to give her hope? His tone was too neutral to tell.

HP: 8
Damage: 0  

[Lucyal]

Oh thank goodness he was off of he—

She stared at him. Her sister…sweet little Bree…a monster like him? No. No. Absolutely not. Briefly though, her mind fed her the image. A young girl with blue, pale skin, rotting, reaching out for her…Molly screeched, shaking her head vehemently. No, no, no. Besides, Bree had been…cremated…there was no way…no body for…

Molly got a bit sloppy as she brought her lance down on the zomboil, clipping him.

HP: 15/40
DMG: 1
Charge 1/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

It was nice to hear that screech, that pure sound of anger and maybe even fear that fed their kind's existence - it was nice to know that, weak as he was, he could still produce it in a human; even if it did mean the lance had nearly punctured him again. He managed to dodge away to the side and catch only a scratch from the swing this time.

"Is so wrong?" he continued, calm, casual, tired as all hell but unable to shut up. "Give her s-second chance for life."

HP: 7
Damage: 8|  

[Lucyal]

“It’s wrong!” Molly cried, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as she shook her head, trying to clear away the mental image. “That would be no life! Just a miserable existence!”

His words worked to rile her. Her hands tightened on the handle of her lance, and she wanted to see Mort down again. Molly pulled it back like a baseball back, and with a loud cry, she stepped into the swing, throwing all of her weight behind it as she slammed it right into the zomboil. Once again, the sickening crunch was oddly satisfying.

HP: 15/40
DMG: 10 (fawk yo undead couch)
Charge 2/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

Mort couldn't dodge in time this time - his feet entangled themselves in his exhaustion and left him wide open to the furious swing. There was indeed a satisfying crack for Molly - several, in fact, as the shield broken under the force. Mort gave a loud cry of agony as he felt several more ribs give under the attack's weight and snap, flesh tearing even against blunt force until the lance hit his spine; only then was the weapon checked, and even so he was sure a disc or two had been close to displacement, for his spine had a new curve to it that was not only painful but awkward and unnatural. Only pure instinct had him clutch at the lance and ensure that he was not simply flung off when she stopped the swing.

Blurry vision came in and out for the next few seconds, haggard and wet choking punctuating the hazy world as he held on and swallowed more blood. His glasses were all but useless now that they had been flung off by the swing, but he didn't need them anymore. Teeth now stained red and still dripping, Mort focused on the pink blob at the other end of the lance - and then proceeded to pull the lance through him further.

The pain increased twice fold with each tug, culminating when the weapon broke through his back and forced two of the upper rib bones to widen the gap for it - yet Mort didn't stop. Pain was everything he knew now, a world swimming with red as the blood began to seep into his eyes and bleed out like little tears of his own. It really was a miserable existence, he realized, to have two sides war like this when they were each in their own right. Where was the balance? Where could they find peace? Could it even be achieved?

"Nngggg . . .!" He stopped midway up the lance, the muscles of his leftover arm on fire from the effort to get him there. And still Mort stared at the ghoul with his bloody tears, a semblance of sadness in his expression even as his hair threatened to cover his eyes, coated with blood as it was. His mouth forgot how to function, yet it opened anyway, a soundless sentence dying on his tongue as more blood bubbled forth and made him choke and spit and near-vomit.

When at last it had settled, the zomboil murmured, "This . . . th-th-thissss war . . . is wr-wronnng . . ." And more bloody tears were shed as he, somehow, summoned all the energy he could and threw his hand out towards her face, a jettison of lightning erupting from all five of his fingers.

HP: -3
Damage: 10 (YOUR LIVING COUCH IS ******** BACK)  

[Lucyal]

There her mind went, distancing herself from the scene before her.

No matter how much it distanced her though, deep down, there was a satisfaction in harming this creature. A flicker even, but it was still there. She could harm the shadows for all the years of abuse and torture they inflicted upon her and her sister. She could continue to strike back at it, for the life the shadows took away from her. “No. Harming the innocent. That is what is wrong.” Molly’s eyes widened though as Mort thrust his hand out at her, and Molly let out a cry of pain as blue and white suddenly filled her entire vision. The Mist Hunter stumbled back wildly with another cry. Luckily her FEAR shield absorbed the majority of the blow, but now it was dangerously thin.

She swung at the zomboil, clipping him once more. But…she couldn’t turn tail…not with Vaska crooning in her ear that he was ready to go, and that they could really make it hurt for him.

HP: 5/40
DMG: 1
Charge 3/3 1/2 spent  

[medigel]

He was close to depletion, he knew it. Hanging on the lance like he was it was only a matter of time before he was done for - hell, he could hear the satisfied hum emanating from the lance just like he had before she had unleashed the spinning strike that had devastated him prior. But Mort too was not one to give up, even with dissipation looking him in the face. Another grunt, another thrust forward to get close to the ghoul, and the world continued to swim red, red, red . . .

"T-Tell me, Hunter . . . either've u-us innocent?" Mort rasped, locking his eyes on her exposed hands and, with a disgusting schluck sound, pried himself off the lance to go for flesh one last time.

Just one bite. One bite, and he would be satisfied.

HP: -4
Damage: 3  

[Lucyal]

The answer to that was simple. Molly even managed to grace the lump of decaying flesh on her lance with a small, sad smile before it faded. “No.” Her brows furrowed as he pulled himself off of her weapon, and then went for her hands. Luckily, they were gloved, and mostly shielded by the guard of her weapon. The scuffle to stop him from tearing into flesh though, took more away from her shield. It was dangerously thin…so close…but she could do this.

“My hands are dirty.” Molly murmured, her lance spinning to life once more, that metallic scream piercing the air again. “…But I dirty my hands, so that others don’t have to.” With a cry, she lanced Mort once more, and even she knew this time, he would not be recovering from that attack this battle.

HP: 2/40
DMG: 16
Charge 0/3 2/2 spent