In reply to Froggychum (msg # 157):

If the blue thing (Blue Suede Shoes) is still present, Uladzislau continues trying to slaughter it with Woundhealer, guttural, muffled growls deep in his throat despite not being about to open his jaw to snarl and roar properly.

If the enemy Stand has vanished, the barbarian berserkly attacks random inanimate things (chairs, for example) as he heads for the bloody mess where the surgeon went down. Giving the body a stab or two with Woundhealer as instinct drives him to check for lingering life, a potential imagination to save. His next priority after that is the other wounded enemy, the Italian man, trying to drive his sword through the man's head should the surgeon be beyond recovery. An 'I blame you for his death' sort of behavior, even through the red haze of rage.

(I can't seem to find if it's present or not, so I'm gonna go with 'nah')

The barbarian begins smashing things in the room, much to the disdain of the workers who voice their complaints with halfhearted scolding.

Once he reached the surgeon, they found that he had, unfortunately, already died. He had taken too many bullets from his own coworkers, he had probably signed up for this when he started working here.

By the time he reached the man, however, he had managed to gather his strength. He looked a bit surprised that the man hadn't attacked him yet, but he prepared to fight anyway, standing up with a ready stance, while bringing his stand out on the side where the barbarian wold have a harder time swinging

(since you're both prepared, your actions shouldn't state results, just attempts at attacks, he may be able to counter some of them)

Edit: missed that you just went for one head swing, so if you still make that attack, he dodges it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:51, Fri 11 Oct 2019.

He then decides to send All-star after the boy and decides to wait while he looks for clues to who he is.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 162):

Still seeing red everywhere, the barbarian tried (and I do mean tried, not succeeded) to take out his fury on the man, but the presence of the blue Stand distracted him from the fleshly person. He kept turning, trying to hit them both with wild, two-handed swings that were easily spotted coming. That the barbarian was not very smart in a blood rage would be readily apparent to someone observing him carefully.

The barbarian was very strong, not very fast and at the moment, was splitting his hits two ways, and also not focusing on either of his targets.

He didn't hit any of his attacks.

The man ran towards the door, and his stand followed him. On the way, he taunted the man to follow him with rude gestures and condescending cursing. Using his stand to block his way and then avoid any attacks until he was at the door

Once the man caught up to him at the door, he readied his stand to do an attack.

Before the barbarian would make an attack, he spat at his feet and laughed, "You'll never understand anything about what we did to you," he chuckled.

The stand was very fast, but it's range wasn't great, so once the 15 meter hallway was crossed, the boy was already standing 15 meters outside the entrance, meaning the swarm of stars was already 30 meters outside of Neito's range.

The boy looked directly at the stand and gasped, it was clear now he was a stand user. Neit osaw this all through the eyes of his stands, of course everything he saw was black-tinted because they were wearing sunglasses, but he saw nonetheless through countless pairs of eyes at once, which was quite disorienting, so he needed to choose how many pairs of eyes to look through (each pair more than one is going to make you less focused, which isn't good, but the information may be valuable)

The boy was a stand user, however there was no stand beside him. In fact, all that had changed was he was now wearing clown make-up and clothing and a little ring glowed an assortment of bright colors on his finger.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 165):

Bestial grimaces his expression, his snarls trapped by the ever-clenched jaw, Blood Red Sandman made one all-out attack on the blue Stand with no sign that he understood the man's taunts. But inwardly, the ring was worrying as his berserk rage duration was just about run out, and he hadn't had anything to eat or some rest to recover from the last berserking. Something deep inside told him that he was going to black out when the blood rage ended.

The stand blocked the first couple attacks by pure speed, but the next ones were coming with the velocity of a far-stronger attack, and they hit. The stand was damaged partially with each of the two hits, before making a counter attack.

The first hit broke his hand and left a gash in it and the second one skinned his other arm. Now, the man's suit was soaked with blood and he screamed in pain, uttering curses as quietly as he could, which wasn't much.

The man managed to duck out of the way of the fifth attack, and then come back in and land a punch to the nose which barely hurt the tough barbarian as he raised his sword for another blow. This blow to the nose made the man forget made the man forget how to breathe out of his nose.

The man risked another punch to the nose, but got hit by the sixth attack while doing so. It barely hit him but did full damage, it seemed the more he hurt him , the more damage he was taking. However, this was a good one, as it actually bruised his nose and gave him a nosebleed. It also had him forget how stop or control his breathing, so now he would become exponentially excited and possibly pass out much sooner.

The blow sliced a line straight down his chest, and it went all the way to the surface of his muscles. nothing vital was struck, but he bled quite a lot after just moments. He roared in pain and opened the door with his stand very fast and leaped behind the door, closing it and leaving it between them.

A more focused fighter might notice that he was planning to ambush, desperately injured.

That one all-out attack had been the last of his berserk strength, and Blood Red Sandman started to crumple to the ground as his knees gave out. Falling backward and to one side, Uladzislau was unconscious before even fully emerging from the rage. But the prone barbarian was no longer a physical wall of red muscle between others in the room and the enemy Stand, either.

The man realized he had no chance of winning, but he still wanted to take hostages. He opened the door as little as he could, still using it as decent cover, and dragged the barbarian out the door, Miguel could barely see what was happening, but new something was going wrong. The armed ladies and gentlemen didn't have a clear shot considering the man had navigated himself to the only door, the one they had come in through, which had a sort of airlock (as in a second door) blocking the main room off from the entrance/exit.

Miguel chased after them while one lady put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off, not super politely either.

By the time he had reached the outside of the building, the barbarian had been dragged off elsewhere, perhaps the man had hidden or vanished into the crowd. The former was more believable, as he was carrying an unconscious man.

(If you take more than 2 hours to come to, you will wake up inside an interrogation room. Otherwise, you will awaken inside of a van with blacked-out windows and two masked men driving you.)

Some unknown time later, Uladzislau slowly started to regain consciousness. He wasn't in a bed, nor even seated in a bus or plane. Confused eyes saw a stark (interrogation) room, completely unfamiliar to him, and his foggy thoughts wondered where he was and what had happened.

There was a note left on the table saying, "You are being kept here until we decide otherwise"

That otherwise highly implied that they were waiting to capture his friend.

If Uladzislau recognized the setting, perhaps he would be scared that he might be in danger, but there had been no threat of 'interrogation' yet, and besides, what could they want to know from someone who is looking for answers his self.

(OOC: Blood Red Sandman is capable of fluent reading, but not as much with spoken or audio, correct?)

OOC: I think you got it backwards. He cannot read or write, but understands speech.


Confused, bewildered, hungry, thirsty, Uladzislau's gaze wandered over his surroundings, not recognizing the place or what kind of place it might be.

Is he restrained in the chair by anything he can see or feel?

There is a seat and a table, but there are no visible or physical restraints.

there is a door to the far corner of the room, but it has multiple locks on it:

 - Two industrial deadbolts
 - The door itself is locked
 - an additional lock, like you'd see on a locker
 - the door is padded and reinforced
 - Two thick chains holding things tightly together.

There is nothing else he could see in the room besides the note.

Standing up, he approached the table, peering uncertainly at the note but unable to read it. Spending more than a minute puzzled by it, he eventually turned away to explore the walls in hopes of a secret door or panel with food behind it. Or a means to get to where there was food.

It was likely the ring in effect that made him think there'd be secret panels, but of course, there were none. After searching the walls, he found that above the table, the horrible fluorescent lighting that flickered like a nauseating strobelight had a button next to it, probably to turn it off.

The door had nothing on it, except for a clouded glass window, which was perhaps visible thru on the other side, but not here.

No food. No water. No monsters. No treasure chests. And a locked door. Was that button up there a trap? That light spell was terrible; had the caster been suffering a bad hangover when they cast it?

Wait. Light spell? He did a double take in response to his own thoughts. He looked again, recognizing the technological nature of the fluorescent light, and of the machine-made locks and chains on the door. Uladzislau held his head with both hands for a few heartbeats, trying to make sense of the conflicting barbarian and modern viewpoints. Lowering his hands, he walked over to the door.

He called out in Russian, asking if anyone was there.

No response. Nobody was present either, if he strained his ears. He may still be under surveillance.

He had no choice but to wait, until a few hours later, when a mean-looking guy walked in, dressed in nice clothes and with his hair slicked back. He reeked of alcohol covered over with cheap cologne.

He was part of the force chasing them, and looked to be just above your generic tank-top thug with tattoos and a chili stain on his shirt.

"You speak English good, bud?" the man asked condescendingly, as if his english was perfect. He had a Russian accent. "Or do I need to talk to you in mother tongue?" he said in Russian to the man.

"You've been repurposed, don't get any ideas though, just cause you got something now doesn't mean you can take us" he told and then threatened, Uladzislau probably didn't understand what he was talking about.

There was something weird about the man, but it didn't feel to be that he may be a stand user, it was something about his appearance...

The smell reminded him of busses back when he was going to school in Moscow. When vodka prices rose during a shortage, poor workers turned to drinking cheap perfume, which made bus (and train) rides an exercise in overwhelming sweetness in the morning.

"I would rather use the mother tongue," Uladzislau answered in Russian. His gaze focused hungrily on the chili stain, reminded that he hadn't had anything to eat in an unknown period of time.

"I don't know what you mean by repurposed. Does it have anything to do with why someone painted me red?"

The man scoffed impatiently, as if he was angry. In fact, he was taking full advantage of the fact that he'd finally met someone he could boss around both because he was a higher rank, and because they would be prevented from beating him up.

"I'm not going to tell you about any of that" he said, faking smugness. It was clear he knew very little and was ordered to be here.

"I'm very important" he mumbled, not convincing either of the two men.

He rolled his eyes and bit his lip, as if wishing he had something to drink. "You're back here because we don't want you running around outside" he said, insultingly.

"You're an experiment gone wrong" he flinched, as his earpiece Uladzislau hadn't noticed under his hair, evne though it was slicked back, yelled at him. "Not wrong, just poorly" he gritted his teeth, clearly on a tight leash.

Then, the door opened again, and this time, the person coming in took all the precautions, unlike the man. "God Almighty, Jurg, no wonder you mean nothing to this industry" a man said, walking in, speaking English.

He was dressed far better than the other man, and smelled faintly of excellent cologne. He was immaculate, and he looked far more important.

"Get out, fool. I'll take care of this" he commanded in english, the man slunk away with a bitter frown that hid depression and self-sabotaging tendencies.

The last thing Uladzislau noticed before the man left was that the thing he hadn't notice dbefore was that he had a little embroidered patch, right above the chili stain, which he recalled the men who had picked him up from the airport had.

The image was a snake with one eye. The man who walked in had a snake with two eyes, instead. Signifying his value to the force.

"I will explain things to you, because you are not our enemy, nor are we yours" he told him. "In fact, because you have been 'painted red' you are now one of us. We are the chosen people, who were placed on earth to rule over the meek. It's our birthright, even if some achieve it later, liek yourself" the man told him.  The man said all this in russian, even though he himself wasn't Russian.

Things were becoming clearer
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:13, Tue 15 Oct 2019.

With bits and fragments of memory slowly returning over the hours that he'd sat, paced, and searched the walls in here, Uladzislau had a vague idea of what the man might be talking about. Miguel had mentioned some kind of racist, Stand-supremacy gang terrorizing the city.

"Why would I want to rule over anyone, sir? I'm an archivist, not a leader," remaining in his native Russian. For the moment, the modern side of him was in control rather than the barbarian.

He eyed that patch. Realizing that it signified ranks was probably something to work hard not to forget, he decided, though he still had no idea what those ranks were or who did what.

"Some people think that way at first, but even good people come to realize that stands are the future of the world" he told the barbarian, "Why would anyone else be fit to lead?" he asked, seeming to be genuinely puzzled.

"Either way, you have to come with us, we need to keep an eye on you. Stand users are known to bump into one another, and we don't want a rebellion forming, now do we?" he said

He stood from his chair, and put a hand towards the door, indicating the man follow him there.

He approached the door and knocked thrice the rapped on it with his knuckles for a second before shaking the doorknob and knocking twice more. It was an odd code, and he didn't seem happy with it either, as if it was one he would be stuck with for just a while longer.

Some men outside opened the door, and the man began to lead the barbarian out. "We plan to observe the changes the ring has brought you" he said. "You never agreed to it, but this is how you got in this country. We tricked you into a better future. Harder, but worth it" he said

"Now," the man said, arriving at another door, this place was clearly an old safehouse refashioned to have more purposes, a smell came from inside the door, "Why don't we get you something to eat? I could practically hear your stomach growling" he told the stand user. Inside the kitchen, waffles popped out of the toaster, and sausages and bacon were finishing being cooked, and the grease was being looked at longingly by a chubby, middle-aged Doberman.

Uladzislau wondered at the first two questions the snake man had responded with. It seemed to him that the question that the man thought he was answering was not the same question as he had asked. But he kept quiet for the moment and followed, recognizing that he was a prisoner of some kind here.

He took mental note of the code, but didn't trust his memory to retain it long, with how things had been lately.

"Food would be appreciated, sir. All I had yesterday - was it yesterday? - was a single bunch of grapes."

A better future? His idea of a better future was dealing with the arts more closely, perhaps finding a wife eventually and raising a family. Not... racism and politics.

Even the slightest expression on Uladzislau's face that would make it's way onto his face when dealing with the word Racism would be noticed by the man, he responded earnestly with, "It's not racism, like you may think at first. If you truly think about it, it's the next step in evolution. It's not scientifically untrue, either." he told him, "For many, it's the greatest unity there is. For the others, they're future will be better under our grasp" he told him. The creep clearly believed in all these things. "Think about it," he told the stand user, "at no cost to ourselves, we can change the world. This organization first and foremost seeks to get our kind into a place of power" he told him, using our to include Uladzislau, whetehr he was comfortable with it or not. It wasn't clear whether or not this man was a stand user.

"After we are in charge, we hope to unite all the stand users we can, and improve the world." he told him, "Stand users are known to attract one another" he told him. "Think about it, these fantastical powers should not be wasted in disorder or impoverished circumstances!" he told him, "Imagine a man who could cure any disease! Alone, he couldn't end cancer, but perhaps we find that his power comes from the Carbon Dioxide he exhales" he tells him, "He never realized before, but we figured it out" he said. "So, we take a bit of samples, and duplicate them in a lab, and suddenly, we have a cure-all available to any country under 96 hours for absolutely no price. No other government would let that happen, they would hold it to their bosoms and wait for cash to flow in from shady places" he said, "Are goal is supremacy, but beyond that, our end goal is a new future" he said.

By the time he was finished, the food was prepared, and the table set. The man bowed to him and told the two chefs to keep watch, and to call him if needed. He left the room, and a motorbike was heard revving away. There was a window in this room, but it had a single board across it, clearly not entirely finished renovations, or perhaps safety and appearances were unsuccesfuly being worked together, making a not-safe but not-pretty window.

They were more competent than that, likely. These people weren't just thugs, they were specialists. The people placed a plate full of the aforementioned food in front of him, and poured him a glass of pure orange juice with no pulp, and put a lime on the rim, coating it in table sugar. They said something in Italian and blew him a kiss platonically, probably tradition, and they took off their aprons while on watched him eat and one cleaned up the pots and pans and stuf.

Uladzislau listened attentively, unsure what to make of all this that the snake-man was saying. Neither a modern viewpoint nor a barbaric one trusted this idea of being in charge. He was very hungry, but was starting to worry that the food might be a bribe or a way towards being more under the thumb of this group.

He thanked the pair of chefs, in his native Russian, and dug into the food eagerly. The barbarian in him was more famished than he'd thought, and it took some attention to keep tolerable table manners when that side of him wanted to ravage and pillage the meal like a wild animal. Or perhaps like an actor in a melodrama.