Fate - First Reply Overkill

A 1x1 Roleplay where the first writer to respond can join


The Peace Within The Storm
Character Biography
Masika looked up at the sun, the rays catching the golden undertone of her warm brown skin, her brown irises flaring into a pool of amber for a split second until a triumphant shout caught her attention. She looked back down at the playing field. Or rather, the construction site that wasn’t being worked on today. It was the only large, open place in the city that had flat, even ground and no debris— perfect for running around without having to jump around things or people. The hustle of bustle could still be heard all around them and plenty of people would stop to view the commotion going on inside.

Plenty of the children would come into their vicinity, dancing around the waiting player’s legs and cheering and shouting just as loud as the players. Masika had picked up a young girl and let her sit on her shoulders, giving her ample view. She had even tried to explain the game to the child, calling it by it’s strange name of “dodgeball” and pointing here and there to explain why some players were out and others got to stay, but the young girl care little for the rules.

There were two lines, one for each team, as so many people wanted to participate. Everytime a player was out someone new would replace them and they would scamper off to the end of the line. Masika had been waiting quite awhile, but now, she was finally next. Her brown gaze watched the heavy hide balls whizz past each other and players on either side. She could hear shouts of “watch out!” Or “your left! Your right! Jump!” She felt a shiver of excitement course through her. Oh, she loved activities like this so much.

Abasi had introduced her to so many board games, all which required thinking not just what to do but what your opponent was also likely to do. Masika had never been good at Hounds and Jackals or the Coiled One, if anything, it was a sure way to make her fall asleep. But when she had snuck away to play with the “no-good group of hooligans” that Abasi detested so much, well, their games were always so much more fun. Boxing and wrestling, tug of war, seeing who could carry the biggest rock or who could throw the farthest, swimming, fighting with sticks and so much more. Those were the things Masika excelled out.

She had no doubt that she would do well here, too.

One of the balls flew past, and the young man (who had been playing for nearly an hour at this point) was finally struck by it. The other team cheered. They had just disposed of one of the better players. Masika was beaming though, her eyes glittering in delight as she easily picked the girl off her shoulders to set her firmly onto the ground. Without a modicum of modesty, the young warrior bent over, grabbing the fabric of her long skirt and easily ripping it— in Masika’s defense, it was a old skirt that was fraying at the ends anyhow and she did plan to repurpose this. With her calves now exposed, the extra fabric tied around her waist firmly, Masika stepped onto the playing field.

Sweat decorated her skin, her bare arms glistened under the sunlight much like the buildings of Ragash did. The contours of muscle and sinew was evident along her shoulders, her clothing hiding most of it. One of members on the other team groaned.

“She’s a monster.” He said when the others looked at him confused. “Stronger than a ox and faster than a falcon.” The balls were placed down at the center, four total. Each team had to move all the way back on their side. Masika bent down low, one foot ready to launch her to a ball. She was determined to make sure that at least two of the balls ended up on their side. The men beside her were breathing heavy, she watched the way their chests rose, how sweat fell down their chins onto the dust at their feet.

The moment “Go!” Was shouted from the sidelines, Masika dashed forward.

Masika gasped, her hands quickly going over to cover her gaping mouth. Her brown eyes matched everyone else’s: the unifying emotion being shock, pure and unblemished. She thought back to what had happened seconds before, having a ball between her strong hands, readying her shot at a opponent. She didn’t think she had thrown it that hard but the ball had thankfully flew past the other players… to only crash into the wooden beams of the nearby building that was being put up.

They were on a construction site, after all, however, no one had thrown the ball hard enough to break the beams, which then caused the boards and other beams to fall down. Dust blew up, covering the damage, and very slowly it dissipated. Those around Masika groaned. As clear as the sun in a cloudless sky, a massive hole could be seen in one of the bronze walls. Masika stayed still as everyone around her began to walk away, shaking their heads and muttering under their breath. The game was over, and really, no one would want to be caught with this mess.

Slowly Masika began making her way towards the pile of broken wood and iron, looking up to seeing some wooden platforms hanging from a single hinge or being caught on rope.

Maybe if I just put this back together then no one will notice?” She whispered to herself, not even wanting to think about what she would do with that hole in the wall.
A little bit of down time in one of the few sections of Ragash that wasn't shining, shimmering, splendid sounded like the perfect way to whittle away an afternoon off. There was something about a simple ball game in what counted for a less developed section of the ever incandescent city that felt nostalgic and comfortable to Rahma. Salitra was nice and all, but its highs weren't nearly as high as Ragash's and its lows were much lower. Even this so-called 'construction site' felt like a Salitran middle-class neighborhood by comparison.

So, all the fancy accoutrements and the loose excuse for a shirt that Rahma wore came down and off, and into the fray he'd leapt. There wasn't much to playing against this sort. It was relaxing, in a way. The demi-jackal could keep pace with most of the young men here without breaking a sweat, such were the advantages afforded to him by whatever inhuman blood coursed his veins. However, he wasn't trouncing anyone, and that's what kept everyone happy and comfortable with his presence, he gathered. He was just an above average player as long as he didn't put a significant amount of effort into the game.

The fledgling Hand had just driven a ball straight into the chest of one of the better players on the other team, marking a reset and the entrance of a new player. Rahma gazed skyward, stretched, and smiled in the warmth of the sun as a teammate clapped him on the back. Then he heard the words:

“She’s a monster. Stronger than an ox and faster than a falcon.”

Rahma rolled his head to the side lazily to observe who they could be talking about. His brows rose slightly in acknowledgment of her arrival. Masika.

They hadn't worked together too much, but Rahma knew who she was. And he knew they were right. She was strong.

"Good." He retorted confidently. "This just got interesting."

Too interesting, too quickly. It didn't take all that long for Masika to, quite literally, demolish a building. This was after she'd crushed several ribs and knocked one of Rahma's other teammates cleanly unconscious as well. Indeed, she was every bit the ox and falcon the others had claimed her to be. Rahma doubted that he'd be able to keep up with her even in his shifted form.

The demi-jackal stepped up behind her as she nervously examined the ruins of what was once a construction project. The radar dishes that were the second set of ears on top of his head flicked as she muttered, picking up what human ears couldn't. Rahma tried and failed to stifle a laugh at the notion she'd released into the air.
"Nope, we definitely noticed, Biceps." He joked as he arrived next to her, hands dipped into his pockets and a bestial grin on his face. "Even if you could somehow whip this mess back together, I don't think I've ever seen someone put a chunk of leather through solid bronze like that before. That's just impressive, honestly."
  • Stressed
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Masika had nervously began to push the damp hair on her forehead out of the way. Bring a hand up to run her nails along the crown of her head, feeling her steamy hair grant her scalp of reprieve before falling back into place. Her thick curls were mostly tied behind her, the usual bun at the nape of her neck, but all of a sudden, her hair felt too heavy.

The anxiety was clearly eating away at her and Masika recognized it, by how hollow her chest felt but also like her heart had fallen into her stomach like some heavy rock. She couldn’t help but to think of Abasi, of how he was rolling in his grave, groaning at her recklessness.

Why this was much like the time when she had hugged her best friend too tightly and broke three of their ribs, costing Abasi a small fortune and having Masika to be feared by all the girls her age. There was also that time when she accidentally broke that boy’s wrist when they were arm-wrestling back in—

Rahma, you can’t tell anyone about this!” Masika exclaimed, looking up towards, well, she supposed she could call him a coworker of sorts. One of her favorites! (Even if every fellow granite hand was her favorite, Rahma got to be her favorite male coworker with jackal ears!) despite her nervous tone, in her brown gaze was clear gratitude, and her lips that were once dipped down soon raised up into her usual smile.

In my defense, I usually toss around a papyrus ball. The ball usually breaks before it can break something.” Masika rubbed at the back of her neck, looking back at the wreckage. “Unless maybe someone had snuck a rock inside the hide?” She stepped over the pile of wooden rubble to inspect the hole, seeing the metal flare out into the building. She prodded at it, then glanced back at Rahma sheepishly.

Do you think…” Masika’s voice was soft and wavered as she felt her eyes grow wet. “Do you think I’m going to be fired?

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Rahma, you can’t tell anyone about this!

The demi-jackal glanced back at the crowd of people that were still loitering behind them, apparently still wondering if they should continue their game or if it was perhaps time to reign the fun in for a day. This girl definitely seemed to suffer from a spot of the old tunnel vision. His gaze fell back on his peer, an apathetic shrug manifesting along his shoulders.

"Yeah, nah, your secret's safe with me. Dunno who I'd tell anyways." He replied, half muttering the latter half. He had a feeling people might get talking about this themselves, as they often do, but in that moment Rahma decided it was probably best to get friendly with the girl who could snap spinal columns like toothpicks, not get on her nerves.

Truth be told he had no idea how she'd managed the feat. By all rights, even a rock should have just scattered to pieces on the side of the bronze surface, even if it was a bit soft for a metal. His only response to her suppositions about the wreck she'd just created was a resounding shrug.

Masika went from freaked, to fine, to freaked again in no time flat. Tunnel vision and a short attention span, a winning combination. If there was any truth to the structure of Medja's little hierarchy, this girl would wind up in the Emeralds for sure.
"Nah, I don't think the miss floaty fists gives a shit what we do when we're not on duty, as long as we don't go too crazy with it. You should see what Liv does with her down time, yeesh." Rahma answered, wincing slightly as the memory of his superior's own unique trainwreck was called to mind. He hiked a thumb back towards the wreck.

"That was mostly just scaffolding, anyhow. They put it up once, they can put it up again. You could call the hole a...performative art piece or somethin', too." He patted the shorter woman encouragingly in a rare moment of geniality, remembering a phrase that some of the older folks in his old stomping grounds would say to him as a kid. "No need for tears, big ears."
  • Aww
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Masika felt relief wash over her at Rahma’s agreement to not tell everyone that she had destroyed a building. It seemed there was a bit of camaraderie among the granite hands after all, and perhaps this was one of those special bonds that all the hands shared with one another! Masika could feel her face beaming at the thought that this was what the family was for.

It was almost like Rahma had caught Masika putting her hand in the cookie jar but instead of telling on her, he decided to look the other way. Masika decided then that she owed him one, and would do the same for him in the future. Even if she would have lots of people to gossip with!

She did gasp at Rahma’s title towards Mistress Medja, but her lips were still quirked upwards, her brown eyes sparkling as if she wanted to giggle. She clamped her mouth shut, keeping that tickle in the back of her throat, her nostrils flaring out slightly due to the strain of it. Well, she thought to herself, I won’t tell Mistress Medja that Rahma calls her miss floaty fists— even if it does have a good ring to it.

The young warrior blinked, and raised a hand to touch her ear, fingers tracing over the gold piercings adorning her left ear. Rahma’s touch wasn’t lost on her. She noticed that, at least compared to many others, he was far more reserved. Yet the pat was familiar and comforting altogether, a combination that soothed her anxiety.

Rahma, I never would have thought with that grumpy-looking face of yours that you would secretly have such a heart of gold!” Masika said with a bright smile and stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips. “I should get the ball, at least so it’s owner could have it back.” she said, tilting her head much like a bird. “I hope they don’t think I’m trying to hide the evidence.” Masika turned to face Rahma once again, looking up at him with one of her eternal smiles.

I’m sorry for ruining the game for you. And the others. But mostly for you.” Masika brought her hands up to her cheeks, patting them twice as she steadied herself to walk inside the building. “Thank you.” They were supposed to be the final words to Rahma as she made her way to the front of the building, first jiggling then breaking the thick chains that were supposed to keep the door locked. Masika stepped inside, still carefree.

Seconds later, a soft pop of pressure could be heard, a short shout of surprise that was soon cut off followed suit; and only a foot away from the hole, the bronze would puff out towards the crowd, the shape of a average-sized person evident.

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Rahma, I never would have thought with that grumpy-looking face of yours that you would secretly have such a heart of gold!
It took until now for Rahma to remember himself. This was, in fact, very unlike him, and that alone took him aback. Was it the raw strength and the audacious display of this woman that made him ignore reality and history for a few sparing moments? He found himself wishing that navigating his hang-ups was always so trivial.

Instead, the words just caused him to grimace.
"Yeah, well, don't go spreadin' this around either. I've got a reputation to uphold." He muttered back to her, visibly sinking as she began to walk towards the building. She was so damn cheery, it must have been infectious. Yeah, that was probably it.

Her apology just made Rahma feel worse. Not angry with her by any means, but almost...guilty? The only response he offered was a half-hearted shrug and an even less enthusiastic half-smile as she stepped out of sight. Rahma sighed, turning back towards the playing field to stare off and stew on his thoughts.

Then there was the awful screech of rapidly wrenching metal and the unceremonious and violent return of Masika.
"What the fuck?!"
Several in the crowd went running, screaming, immediately. Rahma, instincts telling him to assess the threat before anything else, wheeled around, drawing his katars from hidden pouches within his slops.
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Reactions: Masika
Masika groaned rather pathetically, opening her eyes to see nothing but a blur of colors. Her whole body felt heavy, the wind knocked out of her. No matter how fast her chest heaved, she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Mouth agape, she was acutely aware of the fact that she needed to move, that staying stationary was a deathwish.

Sure, being thrown against bronze hadn’t killed her, but it would’ve killed plenty of others. It was one of those times where Masika understood she shouldn’t be getting up, back in her head there was a voice that reminded her how strange it was for a human woman to accomplish such a feat. But she had no time to play semantics with herself. Somehow she managed to get onto her hands and knees, still trying to clear her head and understand her surroundings.

All she knew was that she must stand up.

Before she could attempt such a thing, she felt a powerful force slam into her jaw, swinging her head— and thusly her body— many feet away. Being wrenched away from the bronze, her skin and clothing were torn and blood began to dirty her dress. Masika blinked, somehow still alive, somehow nothing broken.

“I got her! Did you see that?”

“Well she’s still alive, dumbass. Look!”

Once again Masika was on her hands and knees, but this time, despite the ringing in her ears and the tunnel vision doing nothing but hindering her, she stood up. She faced the voices, but didn’t move. Was it her tunnel vision entirely, because she couldn’t see anything? If she wasn’t so dazed she would have noticed that the debris on the ground shifted as if two sets of feet were running towards her. Yet their actual bodies could not be seen.

Double up on that "what the fuck." Before Rahma even knew what was happening, Masika got hit again, this time hard enough to tear skin and clothes alike asunder. Rahma grit his teeth and bore wickedly sharp canines. His pupils contracted as he searched for any sign of the assailant, but was met with only small pluffs of dust on the ground, matching the sound of footfalls.

Animal instincts started kicking in right away. Jackal-like ears twitched at the sounds of the two voices and their steps, attempting to trace movement. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, searching for a scent he could match to a body. Rahma could hardly claim to know what was going on, only that an ally was in imminent danger and that he was rapidly gaining information on where the invisible aggressors were.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are," The demi-jackal growled as he began to rush at where he thought the figures were. "But you better hope I don't find you!"

Without a second thought, Rahma lunged, swinging his katars with wild abandon, yet with purpose. He just needed to draw blood once. A single cut would mean he could track the culprit by the ever pungent scent of their blood. He never even stopped to consider what might happen if a being strong enough to send Masika flying might strike him...
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Masika was sucking in deep lungfuls of air, her eyes wide like a anxious animal. She could hear Rahma’s voice, understand his threat. She moved her head towards his voice, watching him swing his katars. She blinked and felt like with that movement Rahma must have teleported. Had he always been that fast? Faintly, the hammering in between her ears continued on, but she caught onto the yelling that was coming from the general area Rahma was in.

Adofo!” One last breath, one last moment for Masika to get clarity.

Yeah, I see the freak.” She untied the extra fabric around her waist, tightly holding onto either end as she pictured the condescending voice giving an invisible eye-roll.

Watch out!” Masika ran forward, her vision was unsteady but her feet weren’t. She continued to charge forward, feeling her thighs beginning to bunch up. Not yet.

I know!” She couldn’t get hit again. Surely a third hit would knock her out. But not only did she need to worry about that powerful arcane blast but Rahma’s weapons as well. Good thing she had worked with him before. Her steps were more sure than ever as she danced around the whistling daggers.

No, you’re— ow! Mm-my arm!” Droplets of blood spattered, but the person who was harmed by the katar didn’t seem to blow Rahma away. Instead they screamed as more and more blood seemed to flow from the cut. A crimson bicep and pieces of a petite forearm were visible. Masika ignored them. That wasn’t the fighter so then—

Mona! Bastard! Take this!Now, Masika thought to herself, letting loose the tightness in her thighs. She felt the pressure rush down her calves, a hard knot forming. A small sacrifice as she darted around the letai, focusing on that boyish voice and using the length of fabric in a overhead and swinging motion was able to catch the perpetrator. “Mmf!” With a huff, pulled the fabric back, feeling a small body slam back against her torso.

You’re just a child!” Masika exclaimed, before groaning as she felt a elbow jam into her side followed by a stomp on her foot. This time, she didn’t lose her focus, ignoring the pain to only pull the fabric tightly around the neck, using her own foot to kick behind the knees and forcing the invisible boy to his knees.

Let… me… go!” He wheezed.

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Like metallic extensions of his own limbs, the katars sung as they cut through air. Before Rahma had even had a chance to strike one of his potential marks, Masika had pulled herself to her feet and joined the fray, dodging and weaving her way through Rahma's flurry of strikes as though the two were performing the world's deadliest fan dance. She seemed to trust that the jackal wouldn't strike her, and so he trusted that she wouldn't get hit.

To Rahma's great delight, it was indeed one of the invisible assailants that took the first hit, blood pouring out and revealing the anatomy beneath.
"Got you!"
All at once, everything clicked together. The diminutive form, the high voices, and most obviously--

You’re just a child!

Rahma lurched, tossing the katar in his right hand down and spearing it into the dirt at his feet. His anger turned to annoyance and bewildered awe in an instant as the hand that once held the punching dagger now reached out to grasp the bloody forearm. Quick as he could he palmed the wound, wrapping his fingers tightly around the invisible child's arm and yanking it towards him.
"Stay still if you don't feel like bleeding out." He growled in warning, putting firm pressure on the cut while he kept the kid in place. He could feel them struggling all the same, small grunts and cries of pain seeping from the translucent form as a small fist impacted his forearm. "Fine, stupid. Your funeral, but you ain't goin' anywhere. Masika!"

He turned to see his peer having apparently grappled the other kid, if the struggling dust cloud was anything to go by.
"Just what the fuck is going on here?"
Masika glanced over at Rahma when he shouted her name. Of course, her focus needed to be on the struggling child she was restraining.

Adofo. Mona.” Masika said, her dulcet abnormally stern for once. “If you are using magic then stop it immediately. Being invisible won’t keep us from hauling you off, we’re both Hands for Mistress Medja. Would either of you want her to punish you?” Masika wouldn’t clarify exactly that they were only granite hands, but she hoped this drop of information would frighten the children. She knew plenty well that the wonderful Empress had no time to punish these children personally but upon those words it was as if Masika had threatened to tell their mother. The children slumped in defeat.

Mona.” The boy, Adofo, said.

He’s grabbing me too hard, I can’t. He’s hurting my arm.” Masika heard the girl sniff and struggle further against Rahma.

Rahma is a strong man,” Masika agreed, “but gentle if you listen. Mona, don’t make this go on longer than it needs to. Adofo is also in pain.” Seconds passed and then a huff. Rahma would feel the girl go slack, and soon enough, the invisibility faded away to reveal the two kids both not any older than twelve. Masika sighed. She recognized the little street urchins— or rather, the wannabe street urchins. “Your brother was right to worry about you two.”

Mona glared at Masika, even after she loosened her hold on Adofo.

Ahmed is dead.” She spat out bitterly, as if Masika had killed him herself. Masika glanced over to Rahma, then down to Mona, and then looked back at Rahma. There was a twinge of sadness in her expression, a glimmer of regret, but soon enough, Masika swallowed hard and her face was serious yet again.

So you shame his good name by attacking people?” Masika said back. “I’m certain he raised you two to be better.” Masika began dragging Adofo towards where Rahma was, making sure that the boy was nowhere close to Rahma’s katars. “Let your brother rest easy by behaving.” Masika finished, her voice maternal in such a way one would have thought she had kids of her own. Mona had tears welling in her eyes, her face going red with anger, but with her lips in a tight line she said nothing else.

Now. This magic. How did you two… accomplish that feat? Where did you learn to punch so hard?” Silence. Masika prodded Adofo. “Hurry, your sister needs aid. She feels fine now but in a minute or two…

A man gave us these figs. You eat one and you can do magic. You can’t pick which magic you get though. This time we were lucky. Mona was able to make things invisible if she touched it and I was able to hit things hard as long as I used both hands.” Masika’s brows furrowed together.

And why would he give them to you?

To sell them, duh. He’s not from Ragash. He said for every fig sold he’d give us each a pouch of coin, and some pouches would have gold.

Rahma, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Masika asked, looking back to the demi-human.

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The moment the girl that Rahma had grabbed hold of became visible, Rahma grabbed part of his sleeve in his teeth and ripped a strip of fabric from it in one clean motion. In just a few seconds after the boy gave up the details on what they'd gotten themselves into, he'd tied a tourniquet around the girl's wound, all the while making sure she didn't slip away. There was no way in the Pit of the Earth that Rahma was bearing the guilt of having bled a little girl to death.

Beyond grunts of exertion as he did all this, the demi-jackal mostly remained quiet as Masika talked her way through the situation with the two kids. She was pretty good at talking, seemed like. Rahma wouldn't have had the tact to wiggle any info out of the little bastards without making one or both of them cry.

Hurry, your sister needs aid. She feels fine now but in a minute or two…

"It's fine, I got it covered. Little damn psychos, attacking randoms. Doesn't make a lick of sense to me." He grumbled, still keeping hold of the girl but loosening his hold now that he'd stemmed the bleeding. Still, he threw a finger towards Masika and shouted at the boy of the duo. "You could have killed her, ya know that? Or one of you could've died! Fuck!"

Rahma, are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Rahma glanced towards Masika, annoyance plainly visible on his face. The answer was "no," no he did not know what she was thinking.
"That some lunatic is selling magic drugs and we should probably stop them before somebody fuckin' dies?"
Adofo, despite his bravado earlier, looked away, dejected.

“Of course we attacked, we almost go hit by that ball that broke through a wall! Then she comes in, breaking open the door that we had locked and—

What do you think we were going to do? Hide?” Mona added, “we thought we were in trouble!

And I didn’t know it was a friend of Ahmed!” Adofo added, which caused Masika to roll her eyes. She resisted the urge to smack him with a reed the way Abasi had done to her whenever she was in trouble. It wasn’t her child to smack, however, and instead she shook her head. She had to remember that they were children and sometimes children didn’t make the most sense.

Enough.” Masika hushed the two children, “mistakes were made, but we have something more important to worry about.” Masika released Adofo from her grasp. “Grab the figs from inside.” She told him before looking at Mona, kneeling down before her and inspecting her arm as Adofo scampered back into the building. She sighed. There were things that needed to be done, but most importantly…

I got her, Rahma.” Masika said, and when he would release Mona, she would use that extra fabric to bundle up her forearm. “I’ll carry you to my home, Mona. I have some things that could help, we don’t want it to scar, right? You have such pretty skin after all, like the outside of a almond.” She smiled warmly at the girl, but Mona looked away.

I can walk.” She muttered, raising her chin in defiance. Adofo came running out carefully with two long boxes. Masika stood up, taking the boxes from Adofo. She opened the lid, seeing two rows of figs that made would have made a dozen, but two were missing. They must have been the ones the children ate.

Very well, you’ll walk. But we’re heading back to my home. I’ll fix up your arm and you can tell me about this mysterious man.” She motioned for the children to begin walking and looked back at Rahma. “You’ll come as well, won’t you?” Masika asked, uncertain if his look of annoyance had been from the mouthy children or if it was because he was worried about the figs and the mysterious man and didn’t want to get caught up in it.