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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 20:52:29 GMT -5
((*Very French Laugh*))
Anderson was stealthy, despite his rather great size. But stealth wasn't his objective on this occasion. It was easy to get the tiny concierge of the hotel to show him up to the old man's room, and as soon as the little man was gone, the giant priest grinned and kicked the door in.
A flood of sealer notes flew into the room and pinned themselves to the walls, the furniture. Talismans against dark magic--just in case.
"Get oop, ya grreat Hellsing dog! Eht's time ta ken yer end!"
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 20:56:54 GMT -5
Walter's eyes popped open at once, and he saw the pages fly past him, missing my mere centimeters. In a flash, his covers were kicked up to obscure the view as he readied his weapon.
"You have found me, then!"
It was less of a surprise and more of an irritation.
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 21:01:44 GMT -5
"Yer meddlin' in somethin' heer on yer own, without yer God-cursed monster?" He grinned wickedly and produced four silver blades in each hand.
"Seems a daft endevour."
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 21:20:40 GMT -5
"I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern, sir."
Walter stood, unafraid of the blades. If they headed towards him, he would dispatch them before they ever neared him.
"I must ask, what brings you to Paris? Surely the lifestyle here cannot have lured you."
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 21:25:08 GMT -5
"I only want ta ken whot Hellsing is doing in France--ye can shut yer gob on all other matters, Protestant."
((I REALLY need to watch Hellsing again...))
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 22:34:38 GMT -5
"Hellsing, Father? I'm afraid you're mistaken. I'm merely here for a vacation. Surely you won't blame a man for needing to get away from Seras."
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 23:06:36 GMT -5
"Ye'll forgive me if I think yer not tellin' me the whole truth, heathen. Either way, I have m'orders!"
He let out a laugh and charged.
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 23:11:25 GMT -5
Walter's hands twitched, cutting the blades at the hilt. However, Anderson still made full contact with him, knocking them both against the wall behind him. He wasn't very good at hand to hand, but still was able to wriggle out of Anderson's grasp, situating himself behind the towering man, readying his weapon again...
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 23:20:34 GMT -5
The Paladin snarled and thrust a blade out behind him, through the folds of his own coat, at his target.
"What is the Hellsing Organization's interest in Paris!"
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 23:35:41 GMT -5
Walter barely avoided the blade. His voice was still cool.
"I assure you, I am not here on business. I've come for the cheese."
His weapons tore Anderson's arm from it's socket, knowing the Re-generator would just grow a new one.
"There's a wonderful cafe down the street? Do you care for some wine?"
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 23:42:22 GMT -5
"Never touch the stuff, unless its fer Communion." He grit his teeth against the all-too-familiar pain as his arm dropped to the floor, still holding a sacred blade.
He spun round and swept the floor with one of his insanely long legs, knocking the old man off balance and skewering his forearm with a blade.
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 23:49:26 GMT -5
Walter cringed, hitting the floor, his arm stung and his head throbbed. He had barely recovered from his last fight, which he barely escaped from alive. From the position on the floor, he kicked Anderson against the window, shattering the glass. He managed to stand again quickly and his mind raced. He had never fought Anderson, and if the man had survived Alucard so many times, he wasn't sure how to get out of this.
"I really must insist on the cafe. Wine's not my thing, either, but their tea is simply to die for."
Using his weapon, he pulled a credenza between himself and his foe before Anderson could rush him again.
((See, Walter uses puns. "To die for". He's hilarious!))
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 9, 2008 23:52:34 GMT -5
((Your face is hilarious.))
The huge priest pulled a face that mixed amusement and disgust also known as his "Andertard" expression and kicked the wardrobe out of the way.
"Don't drink tea either. Good stout ale's the thing. Getting tired, old man?"
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Post by Walter C. Dornez on Jun 9, 2008 23:57:37 GMT -5
He was.
"Oh, the Scots and their piss beer." Walter heckled. His wrist flicked and Anderson was all at once ensnared at his knees and remaining elbow.
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Post by Fr. Alexander Anderson on Jun 10, 2008 0:10:56 GMT -5
"Yer thinkin' o' th' Germans." He grinned and gave a twist, managing to free his arm so that the wires only cut into his sides and legs a bit.
"Scottish ale is black. Black as the soul of that Protestant bitch you hound for!" he sneered and raised up his free arm, bringing it down and severing the wires.
"Angel of Death my arse!" Up the blade went again, and down once more to sever half of the butler's livelihood.
Walter's left hand thunked against the far wall.
"I'll be back fer the other, heathen!" With one last zealously triumphant grin, Anderson dove through the window and was gone.
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