zenderael_rl | [EVENT]

Saturday night sees an increase in customers for those who might have checked in on Friday. Large tables have been set up around the perimeter with all manner of cultural dishes on display, on sale to those who have come to partake in the festivities.

An area in the back has been closed off to make room for dancers in cultural dress, with the music on going to keep spirits high. Tables to sit and eat at are kept around this space, away from the traffic of the serving area.

[Mingling threads go here.]

Edited 2012-07-08 19:13 (UTC)

A deafening roar of thunder shakes the restaurant, knocking glasses from the tables that hit the ground and freeze into thin sheets of ice. The room fills with fog, and from the frigid mists peer two blue eyes, bright with the glow of demonic magics. An idle swipe of Kharveryos' tail knocks over a corner of the restaurant's tables, and quite a few patrons with it.

The vigilantes are quick to react, firing upon Kharveryos' undead form. He stomps toward them, unfazed by the bullets that tear through his vestigial flesh. The best they can do is serve as a distraction as other shout commands and rush to fallen citizens, helping them up and rushing them into an evacuation.

It's a distraction that doesn't last long. Kharveryos opens his maw, frost collecting at his jaws before another roar launches a blast of cold, icicle breath at the vigilantes.

[All post-Kharveryos threads go under here.]

Edited 2012-07-08 19:15 (UTC)

Everything was delicious. Gyros might have been his favorite, all rolled up in its convenient food pouch. Baklava was good, but mainly for the name. Listen to that. Baklava Baklavaaaa. But then Zale found loukoumades and they were in tiny ball form and nothing else about them could have mattered at that point. He promptly shoved one in his mouth.

Okay, no, those were his favorite.

"You guys have to try this," he said, calling to his X-DAV companions, but willing to take anyone who got caught in the crossfire of his insistence.

As far as Roman was concerned, this was work, and there was no room for goofing off. He hung close to Zale because otherwise the kid would just get himself in trouble, but he hated it.

The berserker was dressed simply, in jeans and a T-shirt with a denim jacket over it. He looked like any other average American citizen in the room. Except, if you looked closely, there was a pair of plated gloves hanging from one of his belt loops.

"Quit stuffing your face," he replied, giving Zale no more than a single disapproving sidelong glance.

Zale dressed himself with a collared shirt and a black jacket, which looked a little too formal for the rambunctious behavior that followed. He had been forced to dye his hair brown (almost, almost he had managed to "accidentally" dye it green) to keep from calling attention to himself.

It would have worked if he didn't move like a whirlwind, planting himself in front of Roman to holding up one of his loukoumades on a toothpick.

"Come on! Say 'aaah.'"

He unfolded his arms to shove a hand in Zale's face, pushing him away. "Go feed that shit to Noelle."

Zale didn't flinch as he was shoved back, sliding across the ground on his heels. Once freed, he spun around, thrusting a fist up-- and the food with it-- to try and get Noelle's attention.

"Hey! Noelle!"

Noelle lifted her head towards the call, brows rising a fraction of an inch at Zale's display. "Yes?"

In her left hand was her bow, wrapped in a plain white sheet, cumbersome in size. Its identity was not really being concealed, but the hunter had not the advantage of small weapons like a rogue or the brute strength of a berserker, and XDAV had been keen that she not display the bow so easily. Her quiver was similarly contained, leaving her with no free hands.

Once he spotted her, he bounded to greet her and held out his snack as an offering. "Here." He stopped, looking to her bow and realizing her hands weren't free to take it, then changed his offering to point more toward her mouth.

"It's no good to come to something like this and not enjoy it, yeah?

She leaned back an inch, the snack nothing but a golden blur so close to her face. "I ate."

He pulled back himself, head falling to one side before his glasses started to slip, forcing him to right himself. God, those things were annoying.

"You didn't like it?"

... What did 'it' mean in this case. Was 'it' the food she had eaten prior or the food he was offering her now?

Was she stupid for not understanding what it meant?

"It," she started, the word sounding not like a word to her after she had over-analyzed it, "was fine."

He brightened with that, then ate it himself. No use letting it go to waste. "Right? This stuff is great." He glanced over his shoulder at Roman. "Maybe he'll relax later in the night. It's not like anything is going to happen."

At the look, Roman shot back a glare. It was his, 'quit goofing off, Zale, this is serious business,' glare, which Zale could translate expertly by now.

She followed his glance. "If Roman relaxed at all, it is a mystery how he does it," she said quietly, thinking of all the times she had seen him. His posture was the same, sturdy, stiff.

She returned her attention to Tiberonne. "You don't think anything will happen." The way she said it was a mix between a statement and a question.

Zale flashed a bright, wide grin at Roman in return. It was his typical response.

He looked back at Noelle, snatching something from a passing waiter and chewing on it while she spoke. "Think of it this way," he said, mouth full, "Expecting something to happen won't make it happen less if it's gonna."

She watched him talk with his mouth full with no disapproval, though she disliked it because it made some of his words difficult to decipher.

He ate... so much...

There it was. The "large disturbance" they'd been warned of. Roman calmly donned his steel plated gloves and faced the threat, slamming his fist into his palm in anticipation of the fight to come. There was no way he and his team were taking this thing out by themselves, but they could at least keep it away from the civs.

"Zale," he said, not taking his eyes off the dragon. "Punch me."

Zale dropped his glass of water as it froze in his hand, and it cracked when it hit the ground, held together by the ice it had become. He stared at the dragon a few moments, then turned to Roman, cracking his knuckles.

"Sure thing, boss."

Using all his weight, Zale threw himself forward and decked Roman across the jaw.

Roman wound himself up, drawing upon that inner fire in his chest that gave him his berserker strength. When Zale's fist hit his jaw, he was ready for it.

Maybe not the way Zale wanted him to be ready for it.

He snapped, berserker fury taking over. He grabbed the nearest object and hurled it at the dragon with a fearsome war cry.

The nearest object, of course, was Tiberonne Zale.

"You have no idea how good that f-- hey! Roman!"

Too late. There was no reasoning with fury, and Zale already found himself plucked off the ground and sailing through the air. Why!!

It wasn't time to panic. Zale spun around in the air to orient himself and yanked a pair of hidden knives from his jacket. His collision with the dragon turned from haphazard to calculated, Zale thrusting both blades into the dragon's skull as he landed on it.

Zale's ride didn't last long. The dragon roared and, with a violent toss of its head, sent Zale flying again and smashing into a table of baklava.

At least it broke the fall.

Noelle watched the spectacle -- it was a spectacle -- with half-lidded eyes, and even if it looked like her face was struck speechless by Roman and Zale's display of mutual affection, the rest of her was not. The sheet wrapped around her bow fell to the increasingly cold floor, the second following it, and all the while she was moving backwards, eyes high on the towering monster above.

She had never faced this thing before, but she had heard stories of it. (Jordan had, but it had been a raid and thus she has no memory of it.) Where would you shoot? Those bullets weren't doing anything.

Eyes were always a safe bet. Noelle cast a few buffs on herself (none for Roman, she was no support build), aimed and fired a knockback technique. The pouch of basilisk fangs and hydra blood jangled against her hip.

It was a food-centric event. Roman wasn't such a hardass that he couldn't take the time out for a dinner break. He left Zale and Noelle to their own devices, wondering if that would prove to be a bad idea in the end, and got himself a plate of moussaka and spanakopita to enjoy by himself at an unoccupied section of table.

Well. He still kept an eye on them from across the room. Just to make sure Zale wasn't getting himself in trouble.

Jordan was right. Fall City events were a hot spot for terrible things to happen, and the third time was not the charm. When patrons were bring led one way, Rhys zipped through the crowd in the other, toward the dragon of bones and ice. X-DAV was here. He knew that.

But he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Once he had his padded gloves pulled on tight, he made a dangerous lunge under the dragon's neck while arrows distracted it. He aimed at its knee joint, smashing his fist into it in an effort to force it off balance.

It buckled under its own weight, but craned its flexible neck and snapped out at Rhys like a cobra. He barely had time to leap back, his nose inches away from the jaws as they clamped shut.

That was her chance.

Jordan had been watching him, waiting (after she'd done a double-take) for him to move away from the other two. She had begun to thought it wouldn't happen, that she'd have to speak with him in front of Noelle who, bless her heart, might give something away, but no, there he was, alone at the table with his food.

If she separated herself from the situation, she'd grimace at her own likeness to a vulture. As it was, she was much too focused.

"Hello," she chirped, tone high with false amiability as she sat down across him. "You're the guard from the first XDAV meet. I didn't have a chance to thank you."

[EVENT] - Kharveryos

[Before 8PM Saturday]

[8PM Saturday]

~6-7pm [Pretty much open tbh]

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[7:30~8 Saturday]

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