solas_ion: (clashing souls)
[If you asked Lancer how he thought this day would start, 'swarms of annoying bugs' would not be high on the list.]

Olldóiteán, Liath Macha--!

[The two Pokemon at Lancer's side shot flames in the direction of the gathering Paras and Spinarak; they were small, yes, but the sheer number of them and the way they were acting was concerning.]

[If 'concerning' meant 'why the hell are bugs attacking me'.]

[Lancer twirled the fishing pole in his hand like he would his favored weapon before swinging it out to the side and hitting an unfortunately placed Yanma square in the face. Another flew at him from the side, only to be met with a fist square in the face.]

[...Quite a few of the smaller ones backed off after that little display combined with the HOLY SHIT FIRE his Pokemon were producing. So he had a moment or two before they'd regroup, great. Just great.]

If I find whoever pissed these stupid things off, I'll snap their neck--!

[Someone was not a morning person.]
solas_ion: (this illusion)
[As it turns out, there is a bar in Violet City. Which, tonight, is inhabited by a famed heroic spirit of myth--]

Faither--!

[--who currently has his only son in a headlock.]

Something wrong, kid? C'mon, don't tell me you can't get out of this!

[The resulting scuffle seems to have knocked his Pokegear out of his bag--and as Lancer's E-rank luck dictates, of course it will turn on and record this to embarrass the hell out of him. Meanwhile, the rather hesitant NPC bartender carefully hinted that hey, maybe Lancer should ease up on the getting drunk. Judging by the mostly-empty bottle of alcohol nearby, he was probably right.]

[With his free hand--the one which lacked a flailing teenager--Lancer pointed at the poor bastard with a look of absolute seriousness on his face. Which probably made the situation seem even more ludicrous.]


Hey. HEY. Nobody tells the Hound of Ulster when he's drunk. Back home that'd have gotten you a lance to the chest. And you don't want a cursed lance to the chest.

[A pause--he immediately seemed to forget about the ~horrible offense~ the bartender had committed by suggesting Lancer was drunk.]

...Man, I miss that lance. [He addressed the still-flailing Connla, headlock more of an awkward one-armed hug now.] Your aunt Scathach is gonna kick my ass if she ever finds out I lost it.

[The video timed out shortly after, Lancer's miserable fortune seemingly in full swing even if nothing else was. Drop a few more hints about your identity, why don't you?]

[ooc: IC responses will be delayed by a few hours. Drunk Lancer is quite drunk.]

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Lancer || Cu Chulainn

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