"Oh my god, this mutton stuff is fucking tits!" You know, there probably was something of an acclimation process and all that. Getting here from the unfortunate position he had been in was...yeah, less said the better. He still was trying to figure that one out. Free-fall does not a great meeting point make, after all. And even for him, that was pretty out there. And then there was all this talk of wars, and fighting and shards. But all that seemed to transition into one big goddamn feast of all kinds of food, including some stuff he'd never even tried before. Or only seen in HBO fantasy television programs. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going around and annoying some of the other revelers.
Not that he cared.
Truthfully, he was on board from the word go. Fight our battles? Kill these assholes? Get their shards? It was sounding all Japanese anime from the word go. And that wasn't even taking into account that winding up here spared him a splattering fate. Short of massacring a school of Jedi Fledglings, he'd follow these guys into Hell. If not for shits and giggles, then for the sake of not being a mooch on life debts.
"...fuck, where did I put my wine again?" He muttered, stuffing his mouth before going after his elusive drink. And out, it would seem, into the halls. He knew where the party was at least, he'd be back soon enough. "Here drinky drinky drinky..."
02. Armory
The downside to all of this was that his beam katanas were on the fritz. He had tried to get them to work, but all they would do is stare at him sadly. Which he was kind of glad about because in hindsight, doing maintenance on a laser sword with the end the blade comes out from pointed at your face was fucking dumb. All of his swords seemed to be down for the count, leaving him in dire need of something to use. And with everything else taken care of now, it was time to do just that.
"Hm. Let's see here." Travis muttered, tapping his chin as he looked around. "I need a variety. Can't just add that feature in to take it out of the Back to the Future sequel here." He murmured on, before walking around and giving everything a look over. Armor he ignored, he didn't need it. He needed to be fast, and let his swords do the rest of the defense. Which was totally a thing, yes it was.
"These might work." He pulled out a pair of short swords. Before putting one back and pulling out a slightly longer sword. "Rose Nasty you ain't, but as long as I can fuck shit up, you don't really need to be." A bit of a test was in order. A few short swings, some fancy little moves. They were much heavier than his usual fair, themselves made of light and not metal. But Travis was strong enough that, with a few seconds, his motions were adequately compensated for.
He tucked those aside, and reached for a bigger sword. That claymore was a perfect substitute for one of his weapons. BUT MAN WAS IT HEAVY. This he wound up having trouble with, and was soon off his balance and careening towards the unknown.
And hopefully not a fatality. That would be sad. And pathetic.
Travis Touchdown | No More Heroes | Court Undecided
"Oh my god, this mutton stuff is fucking tits!" You know, there probably was something of an acclimation process and all that. Getting here from the unfortunate position he had been in was...yeah, less said the better. He still was trying to figure that one out. Free-fall does not a great meeting point make, after all. And even for him, that was pretty out there. And then there was all this talk of wars, and fighting and shards. But all that seemed to transition into one big goddamn feast of all kinds of food, including some stuff he'd never even tried before. Or only seen in HBO fantasy television programs. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going around and annoying some of the other revelers.
Not that he cared.
Truthfully, he was on board from the word go. Fight our battles? Kill these assholes? Get their shards? It was sounding all Japanese anime from the word go. And that wasn't even taking into account that winding up here spared him a splattering fate. Short of massacring a school of Jedi Fledglings, he'd follow these guys into Hell. If not for shits and giggles, then for the sake of not being a mooch on life debts.
"...fuck, where did I put my wine again?" He muttered, stuffing his mouth before going after his elusive drink. And out, it would seem, into the halls. He knew where the party was at least, he'd be back soon enough. "Here drinky drinky drinky..."
02. Armory
The downside to all of this was that his beam katanas were on the fritz. He had tried to get them to work, but all they would do is stare at him sadly. Which he was kind of glad about because in hindsight, doing maintenance on a laser sword with the end the blade comes out from pointed at your face was fucking dumb. All of his swords seemed to be down for the count, leaving him in dire need of something to use. And with everything else taken care of now, it was time to do just that.
"Hm. Let's see here." Travis muttered, tapping his chin as he looked around. "I need a variety. Can't just add that feature in to take it out of the Back to the Future sequel here." He murmured on, before walking around and giving everything a look over. Armor he ignored, he didn't need it. He needed to be fast, and let his swords do the rest of the defense. Which was totally a thing, yes it was.
"These might work." He pulled out a pair of short swords. Before putting one back and pulling out a slightly longer sword. "Rose Nasty you ain't, but as long as I can fuck shit up, you don't really need to be." A bit of a test was in order. A few short swings, some fancy little moves. They were much heavier than his usual fair, themselves made of light and not metal. But Travis was strong enough that, with a few seconds, his motions were adequately compensated for.
He tucked those aside, and reached for a bigger sword. That claymore was a perfect substitute for one of his weapons. BUT MAN WAS IT HEAVY. This he wound up having trouble with, and was soon off his balance and careening towards the unknown.
And hopefully not a fatality. That would be sad. And pathetic.
03. Wildcard
Come at me bros. Anything you want!