|NNY vs Glenn Continued - Vashtearnia's not dead! (..or un-undead? Ugh..)|
Spiraling backwards into a gymnast-worthy flourish of a landing, Glenn's booted feet grace the moist sand with no more a sound or dent than a normal footstep, his legs already pushing outwards before they even hit the ground, the very air itself acting as a cushion. Having just shed an absolutely ludicrous amount of weight, Glenn shows that he doesn't just have raw strength, but plenty of control in those legs. Seemingly out of instinct, the knight reaches upward to brush the flat of an incoming dagger, intent on pushing it away with his heavily gloved left hand. Yes, his reactions are that good. In most other situations, such things as these would be almost mind-bogglingly impressive, but with a thorny forest quickly spreading across the beach, and blood lapping at his boots from the waves, Glenn's abilities suddenly seem far less than stellar. He looks up at Johnny with eyes that judge, dissatisfaction welling in his throat. Far be it from the knight to not give it voice. "Curse not mine actions, Sir Johnny, when you would leave a friend to suffer." He reaches down with his right, gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword tightly. "Your convenient misunderstandings do not excuse your lack of concern." He crouches low, prepared to use the sheathed weapon as a blunt stick if he has to, to defend against the maniac. It is only then, that the man notices the blood lapping at the shoreline, and his eyes go wide. "By all that is holy..."
Vashtearnia's good right eye, if you can call horribly burrned and not scarred over good, has closed. And the vampire slumps forward as the vines and thorns spread about her. Vines spring up from the sand beneath her, taking her limp form and straightening it up to a standing position, suspended in the air. As the blood spreads across the water, all of the vines react violently and increase their speed, turning into a ridiculously fast growing place, the vines will soon overtake and possibly run over and entangle Johnny and Glenn if they don't move to avoid them. Smack. Smack. Smack. The vines hit the blood that was once water, and immediately the entire beach is covered in red blossoms, as every few inches along the now beach covering vine forest, red flowers have suddenly bloomed, spreading out red petals cascading through the air and what looks from a distance as bloody raindrops falling to the ground. Oh yes, vines then move to try and impale Johnny and Glenn as well, there's about ten direct at each from different angles from the ground, and the vines have also begun to grow in thickness, rather than just thin tendrils, they're closer to the width of a strong man's arm. Vashtearnia herself convulses and her mouth opens, red blood spewing out and causing the vines before her to tremor with pleasure at the bath. Vines have also begin to crack themselves up the ruined cliff, yes, the beach will be a forest of vines, thorns, and roses soon.
Johnny's blind rage ignores most of Glenn's words as he leaps fowards seemingly intending on strangling the man with his bare hands. That is until another automatic extension of his own habbits manifests itself as a shadow driven extension. Coming to a halt just before the Knight he rears his hands back emiting, with an audible metallic scrape, a set of completly black claws extending from each hand. Clutching them tightly he goes to impale the man in the chest... until he's suddenly overtaken by the flood of living vines advancing on the edge of the sea. His hands entangled within their grasp he lets out a scream of both pain and surprise. Unable to summon his daggers with his hands full he stands there momentarily helpless watching the remainder of the vines tearing past him with as much carelessness as he'd dismissed towards Vashtearnia herself...
Glenn looks up from the blood lapping at the beach to see Johnny rushing towards him. What he has the opportunity to see that Johnny does not, is what's coming from behind the maniac. A seemingly unstoppable barrage of thorned vines heading towards him, and a sea drenched in blood behind him, the Knight is perhaps not between a rock and a hard place perse, but conditions could hardly be less favorable. "Sir Johnny! Behi--" Glenn doesn't have time to warn his opponent as the vines burst up around the maniac, and he crouches down and leaps again, all he can do with no place on the ground to retreat to. Aiming towards the cliff, Glenn's leap takes him MUCH higher than his already impressive leaps, indeed it could very well take him up above the cliff, where, unbeknownst to him, the horrifying vines are already waiting for him. However, he finds himself in a worse spot as the thorny tendrils lurch out from the forest towards him, seeking out his life, or perhaps just his blood. No safe place to land, and no way to dodge, Glenn finally does the only thing he can do. And out comes the Masamune, the pure brilliant blade shining forth, a blinding beacon on this dark and gloomy day. There are no words, no hesitation, and no holding back, for there is also no time. The slash is like thunder from the heavens, that same force which had cleft a mountain in twain, now unleashed upon not only the vines aimed towards Glenn's person, but any of the thorny tendrils below them as well. If Glenn's leap wouldn't have taken him over the cliff in the first place, the force of the blast is certainly enough to lift him higher. Higher, and right towards that cliff, his only safe ground now, or so he thinks, the vines growing and waiting for him. That will be a MOST uncomfortable place to land.
Vashtearnia's eyes snap open, yes, both of them, her face visibly healing itself over completly in moments. However, they're not those sardonic eyes usually at rest in the vampire's skull, rather, it's a pair of crimson orbs that peer out. "Mmmmmmmm...." She says, moaning as if getting her first early morning stretch of the day. "Oh, it feels good to be awake again." She says, in a voice that's definately not Vashtearnia's, it's far higher pitched, sounding more like it would belong to a young girl of about thirteen or so. The vines that wrap around Johnny are more than happy to suddenly sprout thornes, which will intend to try and suck the blood out of him, of course, while vines scramble and writh in the ocean of blood, which spring up into pieces the size of tree trunks from beneath the water. Glenn's movements easily slash through the vines he encounters, and the vampire's head archs back towards the leaping human, "Ohhh...squirmy squirmy..." She giggles as indeed, he finds a massive amout of vines just awaiting his embrace. They seem a bit more eager to meet him though, as they spring to life as he descends, intent on either impaling him, or wrapping him up, they'll be happy either way. "There's just so much of it!" She squeals like a...well, a little girl, red blossoms popping up everywhere along the beach. The vines are growing outwards faster and faster, and they've already reached Truce, where houses are startting to get impaled, and the inhabitants are screaming as thorns wrap about them and remove the fresh liquid from their bodies. "Shhhhh! No, my turn!" She says, to apparently the vines in front of her, or, well, no one.
Much too Vashtearnia's dismay, as NNY's rage turns to what can best be described as worry or fear, the seas begin to return to normal... but leaving a trail of dried blood all along the coast line. Struggling to get free and wincing from the pain of the thorns, Johnny's form switches again to the ghostly form he had before and vanishes weakly into his shadow. Appearing again from the shade of a dead tree upon the remains of the cliff a bit higher than Glenn's expected landing, the maniac... now looking normal again, glances out at the mass that was once a friend as he clutches his blood soaked side tightly. With an almost mournful sigh he asks himself weakly, "...what the fuck...??" Slumping against the tree he comes to a weak sloutch smearing a trail of blood along with him. Appearing to be close to passing out his blood begins to turn black. No, not quite. The darkness inside him is finding it's way out through the cuts and tears, rebuilding and netting his wounds as a protective covering until he can heal on his own. Glenn might be on his own until the maniac can come to his senses...
If ever there was a bad place to be for Glenn, it's where his leap has taken him now, no longer in any position to control his fall, and no longer with the potential refuge of the sea. There are things men do, when on the brink of desperation, that define their character, and things they do that surpass their limits. For Glenn, this day, perhaps both are in order. To survive against such odds, indeed Glenn would have to be more powerful, more agile, and aware of the vines much sooner than this moment, which indeed happens to be the moment that he notices them. Bringing the Masamune down from his earlier slash, Glenn holds it forth before him, as if to guard against the vines rushing towards him. The mere shift of the powerful blade sends ripples through the air itself, the light within his heart, within his will, and within his soul, all reflected and magnified by the weapon. If ever there was a man born to wield the weapon, it is he. Indeed, if ever there were a weapon made for this man to hold, it is this very sword. And, alas, if there was ever a situation to surprise and overcome this pair, it might indeed be the one he is in now. The vines fly towards him, some hacked away, some obliterated by the sheer light... but not all. It starts at first with a single vine, blocked by his sheath, but far from deflected. And then another, that wraps around his gloved arm, thorns bursting outward and threatening to shred the protective coverings at any moment. Within mere moments, the man is all but lost, his hands and feet caught up in the thick vines, their own outward growth forcing him back and away from the cliff, held up high in the air by the life-draining plants. The masamune itself is free from the vine's touch, only still held onto by the man's sheer willpower. The vines start to go about their business, and it seems all is lost. Yet, there is something. A movement, not so much seen as heard... not so much sensed as felt; and definately not from Glenn, does the motion come. The ocean has been restored, so is it not a bit strange then, to see it bulge, and contort, for a moment appearing indeed as if another tsunami had been twisted into existence beneath the cold blue.
And then it happens. The moment of despair, the laughter of the vampire, the pain of the knight, and the dripping of blood from the maniac. All are drowned out by the deafening roar, as the water below EXPLODES, the force of the spray blowing across the beach like a small hurricane, almost strong enough to rip those vines nearest to the water apart, like the lesser popsicle stick constructs that children make on a summer's afternoon. If anyone could possibly be looking at the knight during all of this, they would see him suddenly ripped upwards from the vines, the foot thick tendrils ripped away as if they were nothing. For just that moment in time, a shadow blots out the sun over the entire beach ... and looking up, one can see it clearly now. And for all this drama, and all the magnificence of this dire battle, one can not help but be completely unimpressed. For, dead vines still clinging to his form, Glenn is now atop the largest frog one may have ever seen. And its downward descent is heading straight for Vashtearnia. May the great frog have mercy on her... soul?
Vashtearnia is quite happy right now, oh yes, she's beyond happy, an ocean of blood for her to drink in, and look at all of her prettyness spread out across the beach! Not only that, but the delicious humans quivering in their homes, opening up their roofs with a tendril and sucking away the gushy treats inside! The screams from Truce can undoubtedly be heard from here as whole houses are torn apart, piece by piece. The girl giggles wildly, "It's so beautiful outside! Everything's so red!" She squeals, more rose blossoms flooding along the vines, indeed, every inch of them is now covered with the red petals, making the beach look like a long trail of writhing blood. Tearnia turns her eyes upward towards the surely doomed Glenn, and lets out another giggle of delight at seeing him destroyed. The vines about the ocean, and indeed in the ocean, all begin to writhe and crawl away from the no longer life giving ocean, it's nasty and salty, and of no good taste to them anymore. Though, the tree like vines simply begin to fall over on their sides and grow lifeless, as if they effort to both and retreat is too much of an ordeal for them. Or perhaps Tearnia just doesn't care. It's then that the giant frog appears and Glenn is refted from her grasp. Her crimson's look upon the frog descending down upon her, and her mouth opens up with a nasty hiss, blood dripping from her fangs, though she hasn't bit anything yet. "I'm not done yet!" She screams, the vines around her all exploding upwards into long and shape pieces, intent on impaling the falling frog, or at least delaying its descent as her own body is tugged rapidly, beyond human eyesight, from out from under the falling frog. Though, she's not moving in the air, but rather, as she moves the vines detatch and reattach to her body, seemingly just a ripple of wind upon the field of crimson blossoms. The vines reach Johnny's form, but rather than attack and try to impale him again, they surround and squirm, uprooting the ground from underneath him, attempting to carry him along the vines and back down to the beach proper, towards...well, who knows at this point.