The descent of Claire Vandaline [Training]
May 8, 2015 2:13:20 GMT -7
Post by She of the Mighty Bow-Gun on May 8, 2015 2:13:20 GMT -7
Judgment Focus
Rank: "C"
Skill: Supplementary
Effect: User is an expert with 1 particular judgment.
Special: ---
Drawback: ---
Description: User Selects 1 judgment they know. The user is treated as if they are five 1 Class Level higher for the purposes of determining the bonus granted by this Judgment. This bonus does not stack with the bonus to effective Class Level granted by the Slayer or Greater Slayer. This Technique can be taken multiple times. Its effects do not stack. Each time it is taken, the user increases their effective level when determining the bonus of 1 specific judgment.
Limit: Must be a Venator. Must know Judgment.
0/10
The under brush was thick here in Rain, the branches coarse on her skin but Claire ran with a fearsome amount of stamina, head down eyes up, her entire demeanor had changed from the moment she saw that flash of fire in the distance. Mother. Fucking. Demons. Since coming here she had trouble tapping into the legendary Judgement powers that made a Venator the fearsome force that they were but she didn't need that mess..right? it didn't hurt that she was straining nearly every muscle in her body as if the mythical miasma would strain out of her pores and coat her weapon the way she wanted... that would be swell though. Out into the open she burst and in the distance she say a squad of imps scamper off, cackling, jeering, a village well burnt to the ground.
"Little shits.." The recurve bow lifted off her back and the bolt launched into the distance, whistling through the air faster than their senses would be able to register the bolt. Whatever it was that happened she didn't see it in time but a streak of fire lashed out and the bolt splintered, a ghostly howl rippling through the wind and knocking her to her feet. "Aack!" Back she went, the imps mocking, chittering in their infernal tongue, her anger could have been a physical force by then. With a grunt she slammed her eels into the ground at the end of the last roll and barreled forward, teeth bared, bow in hand, almost tearing up the ground in her pursuit. They didn't find that the least bit funny, the bolt she had fired had began to glow just faintly and it gave her some hope.
They split off by the time she reached the spot that they had been standing, seeing that it was almost nothing but flatland and shrubbery for as far as the eye could see. Oh gods. sweet merciful deity that watched over her, this was going to be the most righteous smiting. With a snarl that left her throat raw she ran forward, trading recurve for pistol bow, her screams broken by the shattered state of her throat and the ground sloshing noisily beneath her feet. The bow reacted then, it shined so bright she nearly dropped it out of sudden freight, but the golden glow was a dead give away to the power she had FINALLY been able to tap into. The pistol thrummed in her hand, aching to spill decrepit ichor.
"Die!" That village was burning much like her home had, there weren't even any screams left, maybe he had come near the end.. maybe she could have saved them. The perpetual rain had done nothing to quell the flames and now ashes were joining the marsh. Her eyes grew sharp with focus, her rage was centered, tuned, so finely streamlined that it almost hurt She could almost see the bolt striking home further than she had ever shot before. She slid to a kneel, aimed, took a breath and... THOCK! the bolt released. It flew true, silent but deadly, ready to take form the world those who would threaten tranquility in her lifetime.
There would have been a scream, a grunt or death rattle normally but the bolt was protruding from was had been a fully developed throat. The imp ragdolling across the marsh form the sheer force of the bolt slamming home to its fletching. Turning hard to her left there was another, 150 meters out, a bit further than this bow could handle without some real modifiers but fuck that. With eerie cool confidence she leveled it in her hands, adjusting to ten meters ahead of its current position and clenching her jaw. How many children had died in that village? THOCK! It was as if the bow itself fired harder than it ever had, or perhaps she had fallen so far into her headspace that the world had become silent. Even the rain had fallen silent in her mind and only the hard recoil of her pistol sent her crashing back to reality.
Rank: "C"
Skill: Supplementary
Effect: User is an expert with 1 particular judgment.
Special: ---
Drawback: ---
Description: User Selects 1 judgment they know. The user is treated as if they are five 1 Class Level higher for the purposes of determining the bonus granted by this Judgment. This bonus does not stack with the bonus to effective Class Level granted by the Slayer or Greater Slayer. This Technique can be taken multiple times. Its effects do not stack. Each time it is taken, the user increases their effective level when determining the bonus of 1 specific judgment.
Limit: Must be a Venator. Must know Judgment.
0/10
The under brush was thick here in Rain, the branches coarse on her skin but Claire ran with a fearsome amount of stamina, head down eyes up, her entire demeanor had changed from the moment she saw that flash of fire in the distance. Mother. Fucking. Demons. Since coming here she had trouble tapping into the legendary Judgement powers that made a Venator the fearsome force that they were but she didn't need that mess..right? it didn't hurt that she was straining nearly every muscle in her body as if the mythical miasma would strain out of her pores and coat her weapon the way she wanted... that would be swell though. Out into the open she burst and in the distance she say a squad of imps scamper off, cackling, jeering, a village well burnt to the ground.
"Little shits.." The recurve bow lifted off her back and the bolt launched into the distance, whistling through the air faster than their senses would be able to register the bolt. Whatever it was that happened she didn't see it in time but a streak of fire lashed out and the bolt splintered, a ghostly howl rippling through the wind and knocking her to her feet. "Aack!" Back she went, the imps mocking, chittering in their infernal tongue, her anger could have been a physical force by then. With a grunt she slammed her eels into the ground at the end of the last roll and barreled forward, teeth bared, bow in hand, almost tearing up the ground in her pursuit. They didn't find that the least bit funny, the bolt she had fired had began to glow just faintly and it gave her some hope.
They split off by the time she reached the spot that they had been standing, seeing that it was almost nothing but flatland and shrubbery for as far as the eye could see. Oh gods. sweet merciful deity that watched over her, this was going to be the most righteous smiting. With a snarl that left her throat raw she ran forward, trading recurve for pistol bow, her screams broken by the shattered state of her throat and the ground sloshing noisily beneath her feet. The bow reacted then, it shined so bright she nearly dropped it out of sudden freight, but the golden glow was a dead give away to the power she had FINALLY been able to tap into. The pistol thrummed in her hand, aching to spill decrepit ichor.
"Die!" That village was burning much like her home had, there weren't even any screams left, maybe he had come near the end.. maybe she could have saved them. The perpetual rain had done nothing to quell the flames and now ashes were joining the marsh. Her eyes grew sharp with focus, her rage was centered, tuned, so finely streamlined that it almost hurt She could almost see the bolt striking home further than she had ever shot before. She slid to a kneel, aimed, took a breath and... THOCK! the bolt released. It flew true, silent but deadly, ready to take form the world those who would threaten tranquility in her lifetime.
There would have been a scream, a grunt or death rattle normally but the bolt was protruding from was had been a fully developed throat. The imp ragdolling across the marsh form the sheer force of the bolt slamming home to its fletching. Turning hard to her left there was another, 150 meters out, a bit further than this bow could handle without some real modifiers but fuck that. With eerie cool confidence she leveled it in her hands, adjusting to ten meters ahead of its current position and clenching her jaw. How many children had died in that village? THOCK! It was as if the bow itself fired harder than it ever had, or perhaps she had fallen so far into her headspace that the world had become silent. Even the rain had fallen silent in her mind and only the hard recoil of her pistol sent her crashing back to reality.
