It's been a long time since I fought anyone. Since that was what I originally joined VGF to do, I thought I might as well give it another whirl. This will be a 1 v 1 no holds barred battle in the arena of the challenger's choice. I shall wait for the challenger to come and describe the arena. Then I shall intro myself. Then the challenger gets first move after my intro post... and so forth.
Of course, it would be nostalgic to fight somebody from long ago, but I'm not picky.
A Battle for old time's Sake. (Open Challenge, 1 v 1)
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Metal Man
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t3hDarkness
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I represent a new and Improved Generation of Gunjin warriors. I will take your challenge. Class right now, but I have a battlefield ready and I will post it at 7:00PM central on Janurary 12.
Inquisitor's Arena
When someone attracts the attention of the organization, they can expect a midnight visit courtesy of the Inquisitors.
This subterranean execution ground is ninety yards across and completely bare save for a light dusting of sand. At regular intervals sorcerers stand making arcane motions to ward an inward force shield to protect the masked patriarchs behind them.
Inquisitor's Arena
When someone attracts the attention of the organization, they can expect a midnight visit courtesy of the Inquisitors.
This subterranean execution ground is ninety yards across and completely bare save for a light dusting of sand. At regular intervals sorcerers stand making arcane motions to ward an inward force shield to protect the masked patriarchs behind them.
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Metal Man
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- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
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OOC: Sorry for the slowness. I have a tendency to become busy. Anyway...
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* Deep within the ground, a silence was to be heard; for now, there was to be a battle. One could hear a pin drop, as the misty, gloomy cave was unmarred by any speech. And this was for a good reason. Suddenly, materializing out of thin air, a man wearing cybernetic armor appeared. Some in the crowd gasped; some chuckled. Others, most of them, merely continued to stare on at the combatant, as he fully materialized out of the portal. He looked through the blue visor of his helmet, identifying the features of the arena. *
"Hmm... looks to be a sweet place to battle. About time. I've gotten too obsessed with forests and deserts to realize caves are the truly glorious combat grounds."
* He stood roughly 6'6", clad entirely in titanium alloy armor. Unlike, say, Samus, this armor was streamlined around his body, almost as if it was his skin. His helmet fit snug around his head, and one could almost see the aged, graying hairs on his face. He had an impudent smile on his face as he wandered over to his side of the arena, his boots lightly clanking in the dust below. He cracked his knuckles quietly; one of his hands make an entirely mechanical noise when he did so. He looked through his armor's combat systems via his helmet GUI; little icons of guns, lasers, grenades, targeting systems, and scopes indicating he had brought everything he could to this fight.
He coughed once, a frequent habit of his, before then stretching out his shoulders. He thought to himself silently as he waited. I need to actually prove my worth this time. No one believes what I am capable because I never seem to finish any fights. Sure, Demonoid was one of the few, but that fight took entire days! Sooner or later everyone is going to think I'm a nobody. And I can't let that happen. He shook his head a little, as if throwing off a dark thought, and then got into battle stance.
He bent his knees slightly and put both of his hands at his sides. He scanned the other side of the arena anxiously... his hands trembled a little, as if his brain was sending out messages faster than they could respond. What will become of this? He mused. Will it be another bummer, or will I finally get a true rival? All these years of battles which have gone nowhere have bored me. He then stared straight ahead... although something in his head told him his opponent might come from another direction entirely. *
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* Deep within the ground, a silence was to be heard; for now, there was to be a battle. One could hear a pin drop, as the misty, gloomy cave was unmarred by any speech. And this was for a good reason. Suddenly, materializing out of thin air, a man wearing cybernetic armor appeared. Some in the crowd gasped; some chuckled. Others, most of them, merely continued to stare on at the combatant, as he fully materialized out of the portal. He looked through the blue visor of his helmet, identifying the features of the arena. *
"Hmm... looks to be a sweet place to battle. About time. I've gotten too obsessed with forests and deserts to realize caves are the truly glorious combat grounds."
* He stood roughly 6'6", clad entirely in titanium alloy armor. Unlike, say, Samus, this armor was streamlined around his body, almost as if it was his skin. His helmet fit snug around his head, and one could almost see the aged, graying hairs on his face. He had an impudent smile on his face as he wandered over to his side of the arena, his boots lightly clanking in the dust below. He cracked his knuckles quietly; one of his hands make an entirely mechanical noise when he did so. He looked through his armor's combat systems via his helmet GUI; little icons of guns, lasers, grenades, targeting systems, and scopes indicating he had brought everything he could to this fight.
He coughed once, a frequent habit of his, before then stretching out his shoulders. He thought to himself silently as he waited. I need to actually prove my worth this time. No one believes what I am capable because I never seem to finish any fights. Sure, Demonoid was one of the few, but that fight took entire days! Sooner or later everyone is going to think I'm a nobody. And I can't let that happen. He shook his head a little, as if throwing off a dark thought, and then got into battle stance.
He bent his knees slightly and put both of his hands at his sides. He scanned the other side of the arena anxiously... his hands trembled a little, as if his brain was sending out messages faster than they could respond. What will become of this? He mused. Will it be another bummer, or will I finally get a true rival? All these years of battles which have gone nowhere have bored me. He then stared straight ahead... although something in his head told him his opponent might come from another direction entirely. *
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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t3hDarkness
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- Joined: Mon Oct 30, 2006 1:51 am
- Location: When I die, I die in Steam!
(Ooc: Just so you know this is an underground arena. People that are noticed by the organization are abducted and forced to fight. By the way, its the second character in the link)
Two sorcerers held their arms toward each other and pulled an opening in the barrier dome as a pair of dark-robed, leather masked attendants wheeled in a blonde, one-armed man that appears to be peacefully sleeping in a kneeling position while shackled into a heavy cart.
Another group of attendants struggled to push the next cart in through the shallow sand. The troubling load contains an oversized iron arm and an massive wedge shaped sword. Once the two carts were in place, one of the attendants pulled a scroll from his belt and unfurled it, rolling a full seven feet of paper onto the ground. As the inquisitor trainee read it in a slow monotone voice one of the escorts placed a bar to the sleeping man’s primary lock.
Nearly as soon as he had, an initiate that had been busy with the gear in the second cart stopped and wheeled around. The attendant looked away to ask him what the problem was and found out in the fastest way possible way. The blonde man’s eyes snapped open and he stood up, a full muscular six feet and bursting each of his bindings just by flexing his muscles.
He paused for a moment blinking under the harsh artificial light to survey his surroundings. He shook his head, throwing his waist length dirty blonde hair to drape over his impressive form, and scratching his wide scars just above the waste band of his dingy gray kilt.
He wrapped his meaty fist around his keepers forearm, his thumb pressing roughly against the masked man’s wrist and with a sickening snap broke his limb. This man was thrown aside and the prisoner walked slowly towards the second cart. His guards started prodding him with electrified poles, but he completely ignored them. Casually he reattached the Iron arm to his shoulder and curled his fingers to test the connection. As the attendants scrambled to reach the safety of the other side before the opening closed again he grabbed the last one by his hood and grinned.
He stared the fat sun-masked patriarch in the eye the whole wile he was holding the Initiate by the back of her head and thigh. The Iron armed man bent them until they touched. He then threw her limp form into the barrier where it sizzled for a moment before falling scorched into the sand.
He held up his sword and pointed at each of the ranks of Inquisitors and announced, “I dare any one of you fools to even think about chaining meup again.” Then he spat onto the ground. One of the crowd members, a slight man wearing a brass mask split on the right with a double cross started to stand before the Grand Patriarch motioned for him to remain seated. The old man waved his ringed hand to opened the force wall separating the specimens.
Gir’and turned to his metallic opponent “Are you another one of their worthless dogs.” he asked jeeringly. He set his stance low with both hands on the massive blade and charged full tilt at the reflective foe.
Two sorcerers held their arms toward each other and pulled an opening in the barrier dome as a pair of dark-robed, leather masked attendants wheeled in a blonde, one-armed man that appears to be peacefully sleeping in a kneeling position while shackled into a heavy cart.
Another group of attendants struggled to push the next cart in through the shallow sand. The troubling load contains an oversized iron arm and an massive wedge shaped sword. Once the two carts were in place, one of the attendants pulled a scroll from his belt and unfurled it, rolling a full seven feet of paper onto the ground. As the inquisitor trainee read it in a slow monotone voice one of the escorts placed a bar to the sleeping man’s primary lock.
Nearly as soon as he had, an initiate that had been busy with the gear in the second cart stopped and wheeled around. The attendant looked away to ask him what the problem was and found out in the fastest way possible way. The blonde man’s eyes snapped open and he stood up, a full muscular six feet and bursting each of his bindings just by flexing his muscles.
He paused for a moment blinking under the harsh artificial light to survey his surroundings. He shook his head, throwing his waist length dirty blonde hair to drape over his impressive form, and scratching his wide scars just above the waste band of his dingy gray kilt.
He wrapped his meaty fist around his keepers forearm, his thumb pressing roughly against the masked man’s wrist and with a sickening snap broke his limb. This man was thrown aside and the prisoner walked slowly towards the second cart. His guards started prodding him with electrified poles, but he completely ignored them. Casually he reattached the Iron arm to his shoulder and curled his fingers to test the connection. As the attendants scrambled to reach the safety of the other side before the opening closed again he grabbed the last one by his hood and grinned.
He stared the fat sun-masked patriarch in the eye the whole wile he was holding the Initiate by the back of her head and thigh. The Iron armed man bent them until they touched. He then threw her limp form into the barrier where it sizzled for a moment before falling scorched into the sand.
He held up his sword and pointed at each of the ranks of Inquisitors and announced, “I dare any one of you fools to even think about chaining meup again.” Then he spat onto the ground. One of the crowd members, a slight man wearing a brass mask split on the right with a double cross started to stand before the Grand Patriarch motioned for him to remain seated. The old man waved his ringed hand to opened the force wall separating the specimens.
Gir’and turned to his metallic opponent “Are you another one of their worthless dogs.” he asked jeeringly. He set his stance low with both hands on the massive blade and charged full tilt at the reflective foe.
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Metal Man
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- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
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* He idly looked at the back of his right wrist as the man charged at him, seemingly uncaring that he was being charged at. *
"No, not specifically. My way of getting here was a lot more confusing than I'd like to mention, but I'm sure they'd love to see you cleaved in two."
* Seeing the blade coming, he... did not move out of the way. Instead, he let it come extremely close before moving a tiny bit to the left of it. Now in the face of his opponent, he attempted to use the momentum his foe had built up to send him into the field.
He backed off quickly from pushing at him, drawing his strange TT33 pistol. It looked old, Russian even, all silvery and all. Outdated, perhaps, but what it did when he pulled the trigger was obviously not the same gun, as it made a loud 'BOOM' noise with every pull, and not one, but eight bullets were quickly fired out of it at the man.
He then backed off some more, trying to keep his distance from the man. Is this some sort of monster? He crushed those people like they were toothpicks. This had better not be like that other fight with... who was it? Some relative of Wyborn, I'm sure. *
"You fight like a barbarian... no match for a disciplined gladiator such as I. Come, run at me again with all your might. I shall use everything you attack me with as a weapon against you... and there will be nothing you can do about it."
* The shiny man of Metal was brightly illuminated by the artificial lighting, and even had the man avoided being knocked back or shot, looking at him (and therefore charging him) would be difficult due to the nearly blinding light reflecting off of him.
The man of steel before him pocketed his pistol and assumed fighting stance again, eagerly awaiting another attack. Anything he throws at me will fail as long as I don't lose my cool. His thought echoed in his mind, although he felt a touch of apprehension, and his right arm ached a little from that last-minute maneuver.
His gun didn't have a ton of ammo, either. I'll have to be more careful with that, I need at least one bullet for later... He coughed again. *
"No, not specifically. My way of getting here was a lot more confusing than I'd like to mention, but I'm sure they'd love to see you cleaved in two."
* Seeing the blade coming, he... did not move out of the way. Instead, he let it come extremely close before moving a tiny bit to the left of it. Now in the face of his opponent, he attempted to use the momentum his foe had built up to send him into the field.
He backed off quickly from pushing at him, drawing his strange TT33 pistol. It looked old, Russian even, all silvery and all. Outdated, perhaps, but what it did when he pulled the trigger was obviously not the same gun, as it made a loud 'BOOM' noise with every pull, and not one, but eight bullets were quickly fired out of it at the man.
He then backed off some more, trying to keep his distance from the man. Is this some sort of monster? He crushed those people like they were toothpicks. This had better not be like that other fight with... who was it? Some relative of Wyborn, I'm sure. *
"You fight like a barbarian... no match for a disciplined gladiator such as I. Come, run at me again with all your might. I shall use everything you attack me with as a weapon against you... and there will be nothing you can do about it."
* The shiny man of Metal was brightly illuminated by the artificial lighting, and even had the man avoided being knocked back or shot, looking at him (and therefore charging him) would be difficult due to the nearly blinding light reflecting off of him.
The man of steel before him pocketed his pistol and assumed fighting stance again, eagerly awaiting another attack. Anything he throws at me will fail as long as I don't lose my cool. His thought echoed in his mind, although he felt a touch of apprehension, and his right arm ached a little from that last-minute maneuver.
His gun didn't have a ton of ammo, either. I'll have to be more careful with that, I need at least one bullet for later... He coughed again. *
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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t3hDarkness
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- Location: When I die, I die in Steam!