No, seriously, what the hell is up with all this. Sol's eyes snap open as he immediately sits up and recoils from the smell, growling and grumbling all the while. He regards the talking pile of garbage with a glare fit enough to drop a Behemoth-class Gear while it delivers its little flavortext-spiel. Bad enough he's sitting in literal garbage, he doesn't need a lecture -
Wait a minute.]
Level ...?!
[Granted, it's been a very long time (nearly a hundred years, give or take a couple decades) since he's heard that specific context. Considering that magic had overtaken technology for the most part (mostly out of fear for something or another making things worse, it's complicated and he really doesn't feel like getting into details. Lazy assholes ftw.]
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
[His brows furrow before he starts reaching around, rummaging through the trash piles around him before -
Aha!
Before he pulls out what probably looks to most people to be an oversized Zippo with a cutting edge. He gets to his feet, rolling his eyes as the talking pile of garbage seems to continue on -
And slams the weapoin into ... what he could only assume was actual solid ground beneath his feet, causing a stream of fire to erupt and setting the talking pile of trash to burn.
Clearly he's more of a fan of immolation.
Sol then starts off, glancing up as the first few drops of rain start hitting his face. The rain would offset the fire a bit, but it would also make the stench of the garbage worse. Not exactly what he was hoping would happen.]
phase ii-a. [After a bit of wandering, the sound of something that was flying through the sky-]
Shit.
[Yeah, he's familiar with what a drone is, so this doesn't come as a complete shock, but still. Sol grits his teeth and starts to set up what can only be assumed to be countermeasures, though that mostly consists of blasting drones out of the sky with more streams of fire or the occasional flaming uppercut.
(what a scrub - can't even cancel them into each other properly)
Eventually, however, one manages to sneak past the barrage of fire and explosions (well, more like grab him in mid-air during a Volcanic Viper), though it does have trouble of holding on at first, and gets punched several times for its troubles.
Just when it seems that he's about to break free, though - another swoops in for the assist.]
Piece of shit robots - get off!
[This might take a while.]
phase ii-b. [Y'know, at least there's some small victories that can be taken away from all this. Sure, Sol had eventually been grabbed by a drone, but judging from the pile of scrap metal that had accumulated on the ground and an overpowering small of burnt circuits and wires, at least he didn't go down without a fight?
It's then that the drone lets go -
Right into the Recycling chute. He's not sure what to make of that.
There's an unceremonious thud as he sticks his weapon into the chute on the way down, followed by a loud screech as metal scrapes against metal, using the thing as a brake.
And now he's stuck about midway down the chute.]
Fucking fantastic.
[Granted, that it's not garbage or compost, at least, but it's still a colossal pain in the ass and if someone else ended up going down this particular chute ...
That might not end well.]
bonus. [Sol's never been much of a social creature, and honestly he was usually okay with not being around people. didn't help that most that he was around were loud, obnoxious, and annoying.
And those were the ones he liked (not that he'd admit it).
So this dizzying, itching feeling, this yearning for someone else's company through this wasteland was nothing short of baffling.
In true Sol style, when things start to get dark, he's cursing under his breath before falling face-first into the nearest pile of garbage.
Classy.
When he wakes up, though - he can hardly move. Apologies to the poor soul stuck with him - you're attached to a 6' long-haired asshole who's built like a brick shithouse - though at least he's naturally warm because fire magic affinity?
Now noticing that he's not exactly alone in this predicament, he glares over his shoulder at them before he speaks:]
Hey - what the hell is going on here?
[This whole "getting along" thing might take a while.]
wildcard. [figured something else out you want to do? feel free to drop it in!]
Sol Badguy | Guilty Gear
[What is this bullshit.
No, seriously, what the hell is up with all this. Sol's eyes snap open as he immediately sits up and recoils from the smell, growling and grumbling all the while. He regards the talking pile of garbage with a glare fit enough to drop a Behemoth-class Gear while it delivers its little flavortext-spiel. Bad enough he's sitting in literal garbage, he doesn't need a lecture -
Wait a minute.]
Level ...?!
[Granted, it's been a very long time (nearly a hundred years, give or take a couple decades) since he's heard that specific context. Considering that magic had overtaken technology for the most part (mostly out of fear for something or another making things worse, it's complicated and he really doesn't feel like getting into details. Lazy assholes ftw.]
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
[His brows furrow before he starts reaching around, rummaging through the trash piles around him before -
Aha!
Before he pulls out what probably looks to most people to be an oversized Zippo with a cutting edge. He gets to his feet, rolling his eyes as the talking pile of garbage seems to continue on -
And slams the weapoin into ... what he could only assume was actual solid ground beneath his feet, causing a stream of fire to erupt and setting the talking pile of trash to burn.
Clearly he's more of a fan of immolation.
Sol then starts off, glancing up as the first few drops of rain start hitting his face. The rain would offset the fire a bit, but it would also make the stench of the garbage worse. Not exactly what he was hoping would happen.]
phase ii-a.
[After a bit of wandering, the sound of something that was flying through the sky-]
Shit.
[Yeah, he's familiar with what a drone is, so this doesn't come as a complete shock, but still. Sol grits his teeth and starts to set up what can only be assumed to be countermeasures, though that mostly consists of blasting drones out of the sky with more streams of fire or the occasional flaming uppercut.
(what a scrub - can't even cancel them into each other properly)
Eventually, however, one manages to sneak past the barrage of fire and explosions (well, more like grab him in mid-air during a Volcanic Viper), though it does have trouble of holding on at first, and gets punched several times for its troubles.
Just when it seems that he's about to break free, though - another swoops in for the assist.]
Piece of shit robots - get off!
[This might take a while.]
phase ii-b.
[Y'know, at least there's some small victories that can be taken away from all this. Sure, Sol had eventually been grabbed by a drone, but judging from the pile of scrap metal that had accumulated on the ground and an overpowering small of burnt circuits and wires, at least he didn't go down without a fight?
It's then that the drone lets go -
Right into the Recycling chute. He's not sure what to make of that.
There's an unceremonious thud as he sticks his weapon into the chute on the way down, followed by a loud screech as metal scrapes against metal, using the thing as a brake.
And now he's stuck about midway down the chute.]
Fucking fantastic.
[Granted, that it's not garbage or compost, at least, but it's still a colossal pain in the ass and if someone else ended up going down this particular chute ...
That might not end well.]
bonus.
[Sol's never been much of a social creature, and honestly he was usually okay with not being around people. didn't help that most that he was around were loud, obnoxious, and annoying.
And those were the ones he liked (not that he'd admit it).
So this dizzying, itching feeling, this yearning for someone else's company through this wasteland was nothing short of baffling.
In true Sol style, when things start to get dark, he's cursing under his breath before falling face-first into the nearest pile of garbage.
Classy.
When he wakes up, though - he can hardly move. Apologies to the poor soul stuck with him - you're attached to a 6' long-haired asshole who's built like a brick shithouse - though at least he's naturally warm because fire magic affinity?
Now noticing that he's not exactly alone in this predicament, he glares over his shoulder at them before he speaks:]
Hey - what the hell is going on here?
[This whole "getting along" thing might take a while.]
wildcard.
[figured something else out you want to do? feel free to drop it in!]