Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20180831104140/@comment-5999656-20181008030337

Farran turns to see the witch doctor himself addressing him from behind. He pulls back, avoiding the man's outstretched hand, and then thrusts the three extended blades on his gauntlets towards Nobel's fingers with a forceful punch.

"Sorry doc, you'll have to speak up. Can't hear you through that tumor on your face," Farran says cheekily. He levels his other gauntlet at Nobel's face, and lets loose a stream of pure flame at point-blank range.

Titania keeps her hands raised and Dust crystals at the ready, paying little heed to Farran as he engages one on one with the mad doctor. She keeps her feet planted on the roof of her vehicle as it sways back and forth in tune with the road. Even if she could get to his position from here, he would want her to stay out of it. When it comes to close combat, Farran wanted things to be personal. Instead, her thoughts are focused on the man's associate, whose single eye she had caught a glimpse of through the shattered glass of the girl's black visor.

She'd seen that eye before, and the scar tissue around it, at a bar in a distant location, in a second life as a pretend bartender surrounded by a bunch of fighter-outcasts. That her carefree existence there was coming into conflict with her professional obligation in this form... it was tragic, Titania thought. But she had to do her job. She had to stop Nobel from escaping, and then maybe then she could confront this diminutive, scarred girl who had sided with a monster. This girl who had chosen not to shoot.

Titania leveled her palms again, and then let loose a concentrated blast of ice at the armored truck's exhaust pipe, hoping that blocking the pipe would force the truck to stutter to a stop without throwing Farran off like a rag doll.