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Sorry for the brief delay, but I was hoping folks would post their finishers. Either way, ONWARD TO VICTORY.

The rules, according to my fellow leader Repster:

Let's start with one simple thing that should be mentioned. Wyborn. He came up with it, not me or Galefore. Understood? Yes? Good. No? To bad.

Second. This ain't no sissy playing ground. That silk glove over your hand? Take it off. Now. That or soak it in gasoline and set it on fire. This tournament is not about who write better. It's about raw vicious combat prowess.

Repster stabs Galefore in the face. Nets you as much as Repster smoothly ran over to Galefore, more of a glide then a run. He feinted to the left, and while Galefore's guard was down Repster's dagger when straight for the face. Repster grinned threw his new mask of blood.

Now, that may or may not have been a slight exaggeration, but you get the point. I repeat. This is not about pretty witting, this is about making the other guy hurt. Of course, there are some limits where you just end up godmodding, but common sense should prevent that. On to more specific rules.

1. Transformations are allowed. If your character can go Super Saiya-jin, or turn into a giant thing that's like a weird hybrid between a man and a bear and a wolverine, or just whatever, you can do it. You just have to carry over damage between forms.If you found yourself with a scar above your eye, that scar remains even if you become a werewolf.

2. No major healing. If someone slices open your throat and you seal it to stop bleeding, that’s legal. If you lose your arm and have the ability to reattach it (for instance, if John Smith lost his arm he’s screwed.) The only thing is that you can’t heal the damage done to your body. If you lose your arm and reattach it, you probably won’t have that much mobility with that arm, and it will hurt like Hell. Be realistic and fair when healing above all else.

Note: I'm well know for having been doing that since my early days. It's a delicate balance between part of a character, and being cheap.

3.All battles will occur in the same topic. Standard procedure for these things since the first tournaments. R-18's original format has worked fine for that past years, they're no reason to change it.

4. Whoever posts first for the fight gets to choose the battlefield. That means that if someone wants wants to fight in the land of funk, then that's where you're fighting. Deal with it.

5. If you win, you will have the opportunity to finish off your enemy Mortal Kombat style. After the judges announce the winner, the host/one of the judges/me/whomsoever job it's gonna end up being will say when the executions will be carried out. At that point, you can kill your opponent - you don't have to, but it is encouraged, very encouraged. Don't worry if your character is killed; as with everything like this, character deaths are not permanent and don't carry over between topics unless you want them to.

I do believe I've covered everything.

ALPHA:
Mushi vs. Zaidon
Metal Man vs. A Traveler

OMEGA:
Repster vs. Scripture
Weegee vs. Guildmaster

Judges:
1. Galefore
2. Stuman

HERE WE GOOOOOOO

It was here that his power had been tested. He, the Metal Man; master of turning the unwinnable into victory. Here he arrived again, with a silver explosion. He came from the netherworld between dimensions; and here he was, once again seeking a target to dismember and dismantle.

Standing at seven feet tall, the iron hand of fate shined with the light of the early Hyrule Field sun. The cows had just been put out to the field, and bales of hay lay strewn about. This arena had not seen war for an entire decade.

The dreadnaught cared not for this peace. Metal Man glanced down at his chromed steel-alloy armor for a moment, taking in the sights. He closed his eyes. There, he saw the spectres of his past fights here. He had no real weapon then; he had no plans, either. He had just wandered about, drunkenly throwing punches at whatever came his way.

And he had paid. Dearly. The scars that lined his pale face spelled out a map of destruction. His once naive soul had been forged into a cynical battleaxe of disconnected apathy. And here, as the memories of the past haunted him, he once again stood in the shade of Lon Lon ranch.

The old wooden architecture was based on that used back around the Imprisoning war. It stood with a stately, almost Victorian poise. Metal Man used its angular, boxy shadow to conceal himself as he took out a steel pole from thin air. He muttered to himself--Well well well. About time I used this again.

He spun the staff; it was 5 feet long, embossed with silver, and covered with ancient runic marks. A strange match for such a technological creature as he. But he felt a longing to recreate the past. So here he was... using his advanced targeting sensors to help aim... a staff?

He pushed the button at the bottom of the pole. KA-THUNK.

The staff glowed, and at once, a hellish orange blade of light projected from the end. No... two blades. It was a battleaxe... THE battleaxe... he had once used.

A small grin came to his face, as one of the farmhands on the ranch stumbled upon him.

Metal Man took a sturdy pose. After breathing for a moment, he made a golfing stance. Then, with a single SWCHIP, he swung the pole.

The cow that had once been standing before him was cleaved in two, the wounds on each half burned shut before anything could escape. A slight smell of steak would fill the air... as the farmhand ran away. That farmhand in particular... would not be coming back.

The man of steel held the axe up high; he had come and done what he had wanted. But then he saw a figure in the distance...

...And it was then he knew that this was going to be far more than a simple re-enactment.

Finally got though Starcraft2. May or may not be able to get something up tonight.

...hello?

^Following our leader's example. :p

Seriously though, I have something in mind, I'm just a little sick ATM. I'll begin working soon, possibly in just a little while in fact... Possibly.

Today, in the Metal Man's Intro Post Tournament!

...

I don't get it either.

Maybe you need to send some PM's out Gale if you haven't already. Also what's the timescale here?

A soft song echoed through the underground network of caves. The softly glowing moss resonated with it. In one particular large cave, next to a wide stream, a woman sat humming along to the song. Clad in color of the stone work, she gently splashed her feet in the water.

She was a beauty to behold, if one did not pay attention the the fourteen appendages extending from her back. They seemed to be shaped roughly like spider legs, but far to dexterous, especially since the were made of stone.

Then came the skeletons. Hundreds upon thousands skeletons, moss covered, some not quite so old and ridden with fungi. She drummed upon a few skull with a tibia to the spectral melody.

She smiled as she felt someone, or something, approach. The red streaks of blood in her waste length hair were fading. Time to play.

Hold your horses

I am working on it, but I am in the middle of moving. Bear with me.

Yeah, I knew when I posted that I'd hear some sarcasm (coughguildcough). I took a long time, I realize this. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew this topic was up because I took such a long time and most people may not have checked yet.

I am aware of this topic's presence, but I am quite busy with this whole college thing ensuing, but I will attend to my duty's with Repster as soon as I am able.

Go right ahead, Zaidon.
I apologize for my lack of activity... I kinda joined a Drum and Bugle Corps. We were traveling around and such.

Well Gale, pressure's off. The people in this thread are on their way to making that wait earlier look short. :p

(Coincidentally, I was also moving while this thread was made... ...and posted anyway. >_> )

Portal Wombat

The fist slammed into Lt. Sonya Blade's face with a crunch, leaving her just dazed enough to receive a heel roundhouse to the head. She clambored to her feet only to begin staggering. They all knew it was over.

"FINISH HER!" Emperor Shao Kahn's voice ominously trumpeted to the crowd. The audience of Outworlders, humans, and elder gods, though already as boisterous as groundlings at a Shakespeare play, became even more vociferous as they shouted at the fighters. Most were giving suggestions as to how the woman should die.

The monster drew its hand back in preparation for a haymaker—a haymaker of fatal proportions. A final, killing strike—one punch to rule them all. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a pair of arms grabbed hold of the hand, stopping it cold. This pair of cybernetic arms was probably the only pair of arms in this world that could perform such a feat of strength. These arms belonged to Maj. Jackson Briggs of Earth.

"I don't think so."

"WHAAAT?!"

The crowd gathered around this small arena grew furious. Even Shao Kahn looked on in disbelief. No one could be that foolish. But not a single eye had missed what had happened—how Jax interrupted the match. The arena with simple tile flooring, set in a garden near Shao Kahn's Imperial Palace, need not be very large in such brutal deathmatches, so everyone had a clear view. This particular arena was hallowed ground, as it had been reserved for the quarter-finals of the Mortal Kombat tournament, which were to take place before the throne of Shao Kahn.

The audience was now snarling and jeering, outraged that an Earthling would prevent a finisher. With all the attention on Jax, Johnny Cage seized the opportunity to run out and grab the injured Sonya and drag her to the sidelines, disappearing with her back into the crowd.

"KILL HIM! KILL THE MEDDLING HUMAN!" the masses roared. Jax fought valiantly, but could not win against a stacked deck. During his fight, he was hit in the back with a massive blue fireball, causing him to tumble forward into the champion, who nailed him in the stomach with a decisive blow, then lifted him into the air and bodyslammed him headfirst onto the tiles. He lost consciousness. Queen Sindel hovered over the fighters, a puff of blue smoke wafting from her mouth.

"Pay the price for interfering!" she declared in an unnatural voice that was somehow raspy and elegant at the same time. While doing so, she threw a large claymore into the arena. The monster easily picked up the two-handed sword with a single hand and held it above the helpless Jax.

Johnny Cage, who had been watching with Liu Kang from the audience, turned to his ally and said, "We need to make our move. It's now or never!"

"Never, in that case..." came a voice from behind Cage. But rather than turning around, the movie star looked down. Liu Kang followed his gaze to see the point of a KA-BAR sticking out of Cage's stomach. He collapsed at the feet of the infamous Black Dragon criminal in a pool of blood, and the action hero began dying a slow death with an iron-willed face and not even so much as a wince or whimper at the unthinkable pain he bore.

"Bad move, Kano." the shaolin monk affirmed as he raised his fists.

"Try me!" Kano yelled, pulling out a handgun with his free hand. At lightning speed, Liu Kang unleashed a Flying Dragon Kick on him, knocking the gun away, and followed up with a flurry of flaming punches. Kano backed off but reengaged Liu Kang by swinging his dagger at him. Before the dagger could reach the monk, he drew the Dragon Sword and sliced off Kano's hand with a single motion. Liu Kang swept the convict's feet out from under him, reversed his grip on the sword, and brought it down.

The sword stopped above him. Liu Kang squeezed the hilt as if he were trying to move an object that was stuck. Suddenly, the sword ripped out of Liu Kang's grip and flew sideways... right into the hands of Quan Chi. The sorceror had used his weapon-stealing ability to telekinetically yank the Dragon Sword right out of the monk's hands. Liu Kang clenched his fists.


"I don't need my sword to defeat you, Quan Chi!" he boasted and they both charged at each other. Just before they were to meet, Quan Chi suddenly ducked. Following close behind Quan Chi the whole time they were running was a huge, demonic skull, barreling through the air towards Liu Kang. It flew right over Quan Chi, but Liu Kang would not be able to avoid it.

*WWHHRRRZZZ!*

A spinning, black bolero hat with a brim covered in a razor-sharp blade glided through the air and sliced the demon skull in half. Kung Lao ran in from the distance and stood in front of Quan Chi.

"Liu Kang! I'm here to help! I'll deal with Quan Chi; catch that murderer before he escapes again!"

Liu Kang turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of Kano elbowing his way through the crowd in the distance. He dashed after him, but Baraka stepped forward and barred his path.

"Going somewhere?"



The champion brought the claymore down on Jax. It splintered right through his thigh bones, one at a time, hacking off both legs. Blood splattered the sword as the ground itself began to turn red in the life-sustaining liquid. As his final strike, he used the claymore to cleave Jax straight down the middle, from the peak of his cranium to the tip of his coccyx, with frightening precision. Looking at the policeman's mutilated corpse, an onlooker would become aware of the monster's wordless, heinous joke: The legless, divided body seemed to say, 'Look, his arms are still intact!'

"FATALITY"

The emperor announced, but he and his proud warrior seemed to be the only ones enjoying the gruesome spectacle. With the defenders of Earth and Shao Kahn's henchmen fighting in the middle of the crowd, the entire garden coliseum had erupted into riotous, uncontrollable pandemonium. The only thing seen or known in or from the audience was utter chaos. Shao Kahn would not allow the next match to be delayed. The only problem was that there was no match. There were no fighters left in the tournament bracket that could step forward to fight. It only took a few seconds of waiting in the tumult for the emperor and his champion to wax impatient.

"ENOUGH! A challenger must come forward and fight!" the emperor demanded in anger.

"Fight me!" the champion growled in frustration.

No one heeded the command. How could they? One-tenth of every organism within ten miles was no longer alive let alone listening. There was no doubt, however, that someone lingering amongst the crowd of Outworlders heard the emperor's thundering voice. Would they step forward? Would they fight in mortal combat?

Would they challenge the Prince of the Shokan?




[OoC]
FORMALITY:
I don't believe we've met, by the way. I'm Zaidon. I joined this site for the Gunjin.

Also, I don't know if you intend to include any dialogue for your character, but just to let you know, it is now so loud in the arena that it is impossible to hear any one person's voice except Shao Kahn... you probably wouldn't even hear a machinegun firing.[/OoC]

**** YEAH

Not much longer

Move completed, computer set back up, and internet reactivated. Post will be up over the weekend.

^^^Whoopdee-freaking-doo.

^Indeed.

^^Holy...

The Traveller

OoC: It is an honor to face the winner of last year's tournament in combat. I first and foremost apologize for the lack of descriptive quality in my post, but in the interest of getting it posted on time, I skimped on the detail. Given that this is the Red Lions Tournament, however, I concluded that the detail was expendable. It is also a disappointment beyond description that I must face you now; I misread the bracket in the beginning and thought that you were in the opposite division, and I had devised a series of connected battles to tell a story leading up to our confrontation. Now that we do battle so soon, my plan is foiled and my story dies with the soul stone.

Though, do not be surprised if I find some way to work that in. :)









Shadows danced across the cobweb-ridden walls in time with the soft glow of the torchlight as the evening sun fell outside. The musty air did not disturb the sleeping traveller who was sprawled out on a pile of hay, shirtless, and sleeping soundly amidst the smells of the barn. His body was covered in ancient scars, looking as though he had suffered an incredible number of nearly fatal wounds over the years.

The door to the barn opened as a girl in her late teens stepped inside, lifting her boots over a rake that lie across her path. She quietly reached down and seized the implement before placing it back the wall rack it had fallen from. After setting the garden tool where it belonged, she made her way to the sleeping man. Her oil-stained overalls made little noise as she approached, and she knelt down next to the pile of straw where the stranger lay.

What in the world?

She gently ran her hand along the length of one particularly large scar that ran all the way from his collarbone to his thigh on the opposite side. She brushed her auburn hair behind her with her other hand as she examined his old scars, staring at all his disfigurement with astonishment.

How did this happen?

“That is a long story,” he answered, opening his eyes and seeming to answer her thoughts. She recoiled, turning red from being discovered playing with his chest in his sleep. She stumbled backward and landed on her rump as he sat up. His bright blue eyes stared back at her, seeming to gaze right through her as he examined her.

“I.. I.. I'm sorry... but what happened? You were all torn up and bloody yesterday when my brother dragged you in, but now they're just scars?! We weren't even sure you'd make the night...”

“I am more resilient than most,” was his simple answer as he maneuvered his bare feet underneath himself and rose to a standing position. He turned towards the stunned girl, who was still planted firmly on her backside while trying to reconcile the fact in front of her with the concepts in her mind.

He extended both hands toward her, and she shyly placed hers in his as he tugged her upright as well. She patted the straw off herself as soon as she was up, not fully accepting what her senses were telling her.

“Where are the rest of my clothes?” he questioned, glancing around the room.

She snapped out of it last, and fumbled for words.

“You're clothes are on the line behind the house,” she indicated, pointing westward, “and the rest of your belongings are right over there... what's your name, sir?”

He followed her second indication first, walking slowly over to the hook on the wall and retrieving a nondescript burlap sack that was weighed down by random contents. He briefly examined its contents to ensure everything was still inside while he answered her.

“I am merely an insignificant traveller with no name,” he replied, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“A traveller, huh? Well everyone's gotta name, so you must have one too.”

He contemplated for a moment, then looked directly into her eyes as he answered.

“I may have had one at one point, but I am uncertain what it was. I have determined that I can function just fine without one, in any case.”

Now she looked frustrated. “Well then Mr. Traveller, you can call me Miss Lily, and you are now Mr. Travis until you come up with a real name, cuz' I ain't introducin' no 'Mr. Traveller' to my folks. Speakin of them, I was supposed to see if you were awake or needed anything... but since you're up and about I'm sure my folks'll want you at supper. Won't you come along?”

She motioned for him to follow, and he did so without comment, bringing his sack with him. They circled around to the other side of the house where his shirt, jacket, socks, and undergarments hung to dry. After feeling his shirt, she concluded that they were still wet and that he would have to wear something else.

They circled back around and entered the main house, much to the surprise of everyone inside. The house was sparsely furnished, with one old sofa in the corner and a few chairs over an old rug. The family that dwelt here was already seated at their meager dinner table. There was the obvious patriarch, an elderly man with a finely groomed beard hanging down into his own food – he will probably notice that later. The apparent matriarch, seated next to him and wearing a stained apron. A younger girl of roughly fifteen who resembled Lily, and lastly a blonde boy of no more than thirteen.

The father immediately stood when the half-naked traveller entered the room with Lily, and rested his hands on the table in front of him (and not in his food).

“Lily! What's going on?”

“I dunno, papa...” she said in bewildered tone, “but he's fine now.”

The father's alarm calmed down considerably and he made his way around the table to the traveller.

“Yer lucky to be in one piece, son,” the man said, looking at the scar across the man's chest and wondering what to make of it. Lily followed his gaze to look at the scar, which now only ran from two inches above his navel to three inches below his shoulder. It was only half the size it had been when she touched it before.

“When my boy dragged you in, you was so cut up and bloody we thought you was a goner. How'd you heal so fast?”

“The blood was not my own,” the man said half-truthfully. Not all of the blood was his... but most of it was.

“Well then who'se was it?” the older man questioned.

“It was the blood of the wolf that attacked me in the forest,” the stranger answered, again partially true. His mind flashed back to his battle with the forty foot tall wolf demon, a bloody encounter that left the demon dead and the traveller in very bad shape. They had clashed for nearly fifteen minutes, an incredibly long time for a duel. The creature's claws had torn him open in every conceivable place, and its quick reflexes made it difficult for him to land a killing blow on it. He had been running around it in circles, trying to find a way to kill such a massive creature, and had finally succeeded by impaling it on a tree.

“A wolfos huh,” the farmer stated questioningly, “that's the first wolfos attack I've heard of this year.”

“Didja kill it, mister?” the boy asked excitedly, as though this story were the most exciting news he had heard in a long time.

“Quiet, son,” the father snapped before looking back at their guest. “I'm Orchard. Orchard Lion. You are?”

“I am merely an insig...” he started, but was cut off.

“He's Mr. Travis,” Lily interrupted, “and the food's getting cold.”

“Well then Mr. Travis,” the farmer said as he walked back to his seat, “you're invited to eat here and spend the night before you get back on the road. You've already met Lily – these are my other kids, Rose and Daniel, and my wife Flora. Rose, go upstair's and get one of Thorn's shirts for our guest. They're about the same size.”

“Yes father,” said the younger girl as she bolted up the stairs.

“Your kindness is appreciated,” 'Travis' stated as he took the open seat.



The meal continued for twenty minutes, with 'Travis' providing polite but vague answers to all the questions the family leveled at him about his origin, his occupation, and his encounter with the supposed wolfos. He completely avoided any mention of the fact that he, an interdimensional traveller, had waged war with the giant wolf demon in a completely different world, and that his presence at their humble ranch was mere chance. He had simply shifted his existence to a different dimension to avoid being attacked by a second demon while he recovered.


The traveller savored this moment of relaxation, enjoying the homecooked meal.

The Battle

Their meal came to an abrupt halt when a panicked ranch hand nearly knocked the front door off its hinges.

“ORCHARD! ORCHARD HURRY UP AND OPEN THE DOOR!! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!!”

The farmer scrambled from the table as everyone rose at the same time, except for Travis, who stood calmly and slowly followed behind Orchard. The man of the house quickly unbolted the door, coming face to face with a panicked and breathless rancher.

“What is it, Ingo?” he demanded.

“LOOKIT OUT THERE!! A MADMAN WITH A BATTLE AXE!” Ingo pointed toward the central pasture as the whole family peered outside, where a silvery skinned giant with an axe had just cleaved a cow in half.

“Stop yelling Ingo,” Orchard commanded, “and take everyone outside the ranch. I'll deal with this.”

Orchard marched towards the Metal Man, snatching up a pitchfork as he went. Ingo hastily complied with his orders, seizing Daniel by the hand and leading Rose, Lily, and Flora away from the scuffle.

“Yeah Dad! Get em!” Daniel yelled even as the elderly Ingo pulled him away from the scene. Ingo, however, had not even noticed the mysterious Mr. Travis still standing in the doorway. Travis began walking after Orchard, apparently determining that his own intervention may be necessary. Despite the fact that Orchard was marching with quick and determined steps and Travis was casually strolling, Travis somehow caught up to him in seconds. Some type of magic was clearly afoot.

Orchard's steps slowed to a stop as they approached the Metal Man. At this proximity, the steel giant's size was more obvious, and the old farmer's resolve suddenly melted. He stared up at the giant, realizing he was waaaaaay out of his league. The old man's lips moved slowly as he turned to Travis.

“A mighty knight of Hyrule I once was,” he said sadly, “but now a feeble old man is all that remains. You will have to stop him... I no longer can, and my eldest child Thorn is not here.”

The traveller gazed at the giant, who had noticed them and was rapidly approaching. He was now only forty feet away.

“Indeed. I would not have allowed you to engage this foe anyway. Is there a real weapon anywhere on this farm?”

The farmer pondered that question for a moment before his eyes lit up with recognition.

“Why yes,” the man answered, “my son's sword is in his room. The Lion's Thorn it is called... but it has not been used in over a year. I shall fetch it at once!”

“Too late,” Travis declared, “you would not return in time. Get as far from here as possible so you are no longer a liability. Take this with you.”

The traveller removed the fine white linen shirt that the family had provided him and handed it back to the farmer.

“I would not want to damage your son's clothing.”

As Orchard accepted the shirt back from Travis, he took note of his perfectly healthy chest, with no scars anywhere on it. Most men would have argued when told to flee their own home, but the discipline of knighthood allowed this old farmer to think clearly and realize that he would only slow Travis down. He took off, moving as quickly as his ancient legs could carry him across the grass of Lon Lon Ranch.

Metal Man had finally come within swinging distance and brought the axe down with an earth shattering crash. Travis took one single step to the side as he turned his body, exactly as movement as was required to avoid the axe and no more. The blade missed his toes by literally a hair's breadth.

Metal Man stopped. This was the first target he had swung at in over a month that had not died on the first swing.

“Who are you?” came the hollow metallic voice as the man of steel stared down at his quarry.

Travis looked up at the giant as he pondered the question.

“I am merely an insignificant traveller with no name,” came the reply, “I would ask you to leave, but I know already the outcome that would produce.”

The traveller motioned his hand toward the main house, and the sound of splintering wood pierced the quiet Hyrule sunset. The wall of the house exploded outward as a flying sword tore through the wall, handle first, and zipped across the field. It covered the two hundred feet in a quarter of a second flat and the handle of the Lion's Thorn planted itself firmly in the traveller's grasp before he swung the sword at Metal Man's neck.

The steel giant responded by bringing his arm up to block as he readied his axe for another swing. As the axe started to move, the traveller stepped on it with both feet and used the upward motion to catapult himself high into the air, soaring away from the Metal Man. He landed softly thirty feet away.

Now that all the others had vacated the ranch, Travis raised one arm directly overhead and extended his index and middle fingers. The tips of his fingers glowed for a moment before a thin beam of brilliant blue light shot upward, rising nearly one thousand feet into the air before dispersing, spreading over them like a giant translucent umbrella. The spread of the umbrella continued as the light fell down around them, creating a dome shaped shield. The shield continued underground, making a complete circle and placing them in the middle of a bright blue orb.

“This shield,” the traveller explained, “prevents any type of interdimensional travel. Neither you nor I will be able to leave this place until this duel is concluded.”

Metal Man either did not care or did not hear, because he was already charging with his axe overhead. He swung again at the smaller warrior, this time horizontally. The traveller was insanely fast; his physical form left a blur behind him as he leaped up and over the swing, and this time jammed the Lion's Thorn directly into Metal Man's chest. The tip of the sword penetrated no more than half an inch before it stopped. The steel giant's skin was too strong.

The axe swing having missed, the giant settled for a sucker punch and socked the traveller in the face as he withdrew the sword. The metallic fist crashed into Travis' nose, instantly breaking bone and throwing him off the giant in one motion. Blood trickled down his face as he rose, dripping over his upper lip before dropping to the ground.

This time, the traveller attacked, leaping towards his opponent and swinging the family sword in a wide circle. As he sailed through the air, a strange smell wafted through the air, regardless of whether the Metal Man even had a nose to smell it. It was the smell of the earth, a mixture of soil and stone, hanging heavily in the air, so strong that it bordered on touch rather than smell.

The axe came up and blocked the sword moments before it contacted his head, though that would not have done much anyway.

The traveller's fist fired forward, on a collision course with Metal Man's face at nearly the same moment the sword had connected. The punch was far too quick for the iron behemoth to dodge or block it, but a punch was the least of his concerns.


This was an error in judgment on Metal Man's part. The scent of earth became stronger as the fist drew closer. Travis' hand turned an earthy shade of gray as his fist turned to solid stone moments before burying itself three inches deep into Metal Man's nose. His nose bone shattered as Travis' knuckles plowed through it, rocking the giant to his core and literally throwing up him from the ground. The massive steel giant performed an unwilling backflip as the force of the fist, stone reinforced by the might of Travis' own willpower, compelled his body in the opposite direction.

A trail of oil and other fluids trailed behind Metal Man in the air, following the path of his shattered face as he landed facefirst in the tangled shrapnel of his own nose. He looked up, his mangled robotic face a complete mass of twisted wreckage and compressed metal, and swung the axe once more from his prone position. Travis backed up, only one inch from being lopped in half, and stopped immediately out of range of the axe. Although the axe blade missed him entirely, the vacuum of air behind it was so strong that it still cut open the traveller's chest.

A fresh new wound ripped across Travis' pristine torso, leaving a gaping wound from his waist to his armpit on the opposite side. Blood immediately gushed from the opening in Travis' chest as he regained his balance.


A new scent filled the air as the traveller's healing magic took effect, and the aura of purity and smell of clean air and something reminiscent of bleach filled the air. This healing was not intended for the gash across his chest; that would heal on its own. Instead, the mana that fueled his healing focused itself into his arm, and the grayish color disappeared as rapidly as it came. His arm was flesh and bone again.

Metal Man stood to his feet during this transformation process and sized up the gash he had traced across Travis' chest.

“That's gonna leave a mark,” Metal Man taunted.

“No,” the traveller corrected.


“It will not.”

OoC: blablabla AP Classes blablabla terrible memory blablabla volunteer work blablabla marching band.

My response will be up by Wednesday, hopefully tomorrow at the soonest. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Zaidon... I came a little at all the Mortal Kombat.

OOC: Normally, I would just respond, but I gotta spend a bit of time on this one, so, gimme a day or two.