The 13th Nintentoland Battlefield Tournament
Here we are again, guys. Been a whole year since I last put this up, so here's to punctuality! This epic event is part of what makes the Battlefield what it is, and I expect to see some great fights.
I'd like to thank R18 for coming up with this awesome idea, and SML for keeping it going until I came along. You guys win many wins.
Aaaand, we're off!
I've decided to judge this year, BTW, since I won't be home often and I'd probably end up eliminated if I was a fighter.
1. This will be judged by three people and have sixteen combatants. All round battles are in ONE TOPIC. For example, “First Round” will be for the first set, “Second Round” for the second set, etc. This matches the most recent and also the most classic form for the NLBFT.
2. You should try to take this a bit more seriously than a typical battle. I won’t restrict who joins and who doesn’t, but use your brain, it's pretty easy to figure out if you're ready for this or not. This event typically attracts the best our forum has to offer, so if you're new, don't expect special treatment. But you probably knew that already, so on to the less snobby rules.
3. There is a strict time limit. I've reset this to 2 days before a full point is lost, and one more before you're up for either another deduction or possible elimination. I'll make exceptions where due, but we need to make this a little quicker than last few times around. Remember this, as it is standard, and complaints will only be considered if they are not simply whining. Also, reasons to have been absent are to be discussed by the judges as acceptable or not. If your computer explodes and you had no access to another, fine, but if you were too lazy to try, it's elimination.
4. The judge's word is final. I want to see good sportsmanship from the loser, and likewise from the winner.
5. The first to post has battlefield choice in their specific battle. Make it something interesting. That's all we ask of you here. :P
Battle rules:
The rules of engagement here follow the basic rules of the Gunjin. No transforming/switching characters, no healing, no cheapness/god-moding, etc. All violations, as viewed by the judges, will be considered for possible deduction of points.
Alpha division:
1. Luigi007 vs. 3. t3hDarkness
2. Metal Man vs. 5. Guildmaster
4. IRHP vs. 8. Weegee
6. X-3 vs. 7 Trickster-kun
Beta division:
1. Phenom vs. 7. Vapor (Vapor: Winner via Forfeit)
2. Speed vs. 3. Psychokid303
4. Acradius vs. 6. Chibimod
5. Repster vs. 8 Lycrios
(Note: Matches were made at random via a name drawing from a plate.)
Judges:
Seat 1: Galefore
Seat 2: Tazy
Seat 3: Saria Dragon
We'll call this a round next Sunday at about 6:00 PM Central.
RUMBLE
NLBFT 13: The First Round
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Galefore
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- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
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PK FIRE!
- Member
- Posts: 9478
- Joined: Sun Apr 09, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: On the run.
OOC You ready Speed, because I am now lets have some fun here. Oh and for further reference I'll be Using Will for the whole tournament his complete information can be found on page 17 of the book of warriors.
IC
In the dimly lit halls of a decrepit old hospital we can see brief glimpses of a man darting between shadows. He stands at six feet seven inches tall, his look is overall unkempt and shaggy. Shoulder length black hair streaked with gray, dark red irises, a thin lined face showing a great deal of stress and apathy completed his look, a torn white trench coat over a blue shirt, a large black leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder, olive drab pants and brown running shoes complete the picture of a man who goes by the name Lawrence Williams.
Will turns a corner down another dilapidated hallway ducking into a supply closet quickly and quietly closing the door behind him. Knowing that he had little time to waste he hurriedly grabs several boxes of various items scalpels, forceps, syringes anything he can find and shoves them into his bag after cracking them open. This task accomplished he once more digs into his bag and produces a length of braided burlap rope, the forty inch rope had two loops in it the smaller one was quickly slid onto the first finger of his right hand, the second larger loop was quickly filled with a large lead round. The oval round was three inches long and an inch across engraved upon it was the short phrase “For your heath.”
His primary weapon loaded and some ad hock secondaries acquired Will took a deep breath calmly exited the closet. He deliberately began to stroll down the hallways of his chosen battleground, the many objects within his bag clattering against each other, it would serve him well, there were many places for him to hide, run, and acquire items to use as improvised weaponry in this three story building. Now all he had to do was wait for his foe to make the next move, then the game would truly begin.
IC
In the dimly lit halls of a decrepit old hospital we can see brief glimpses of a man darting between shadows. He stands at six feet seven inches tall, his look is overall unkempt and shaggy. Shoulder length black hair streaked with gray, dark red irises, a thin lined face showing a great deal of stress and apathy completed his look, a torn white trench coat over a blue shirt, a large black leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder, olive drab pants and brown running shoes complete the picture of a man who goes by the name Lawrence Williams.
Will turns a corner down another dilapidated hallway ducking into a supply closet quickly and quietly closing the door behind him. Knowing that he had little time to waste he hurriedly grabs several boxes of various items scalpels, forceps, syringes anything he can find and shoves them into his bag after cracking them open. This task accomplished he once more digs into his bag and produces a length of braided burlap rope, the forty inch rope had two loops in it the smaller one was quickly slid onto the first finger of his right hand, the second larger loop was quickly filled with a large lead round. The oval round was three inches long and an inch across engraved upon it was the short phrase “For your heath.”
His primary weapon loaded and some ad hock secondaries acquired Will took a deep breath calmly exited the closet. He deliberately began to stroll down the hallways of his chosen battleground, the many objects within his bag clattering against each other, it would serve him well, there were many places for him to hide, run, and acquire items to use as improvised weaponry in this three story building. Now all he had to do was wait for his foe to make the next move, then the game would truly begin.
Quotes to live by.
\"A man\'s fate is a man\'s fate and life is but an illusion\" Shogun
\"I think therfore I am dangerus.\" Unknown
\"Knowlegde without wisdome is a ticking timebomb.\" Myself
\"A man\'s fate is a man\'s fate and life is but an illusion\" Shogun
\"I think therfore I am dangerus.\" Unknown
\"Knowlegde without wisdome is a ticking timebomb.\" Myself
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Metal Man
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- Joined: Sun Apr 23, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
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OOC: I'll take first pose, Guildmaster.
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It was just another quiet day near Westminster Abbey, just like it had been for quite a while. But on this orange-tinged Victorian afternoon in England, something else that was not quiet lurked beyond sight and sound. And this something... was going to make this day into a surreal mockery of what the residents of the area had come to expect from their days. It all started abruptly without meaning, as a distant clock chimed 1:00.
A black horse carriage with a noble gentleman inside rode smoothly down the cobblestone road, the clicking and clacking of the of the four stout horses pulling his vehicle echoing ahead of him. He was reading the recent news; something quite disturbing had been listed in the title. The previous day, a note written by lord-knows-what had fallen from the sky and smashed through the front window of a toy store. After the frightened children and parents inside had cleared away from the object, the local policeman had picked up the note. And written on this note, in the crazed hand of a desperate madman was this:
'I AM COMING FOR AN BATTLE OF AN HISTORICAL AN ANNITY, ANNN N n N N nn N N BN nb THIRTEEEN'
It made no sense to anyone. Countless experts stared at the writing, only to determine it was made by a man. But no man from the area; his handwriting was too crude and unsightly. No respectable person in those days had such cravenly twisted letters, nor did they speak mostly in the letters A and N. And so, this item had been posted as a curiosity--one which chilled this man's spine, for if letters could fall from the sky and shatter windows, the otherwise calm days of the city could be threatened by something much more.
The top-hatted pale man adjusted his reading glasses. The light of the smoggy afternoon reflected dully in the two circular lenses as he took out his silver pocketwatch. The bone-white dial and its quaint black needles pointed to numbers which caused undue alarm in his mind. 1:13. Didn't the letter say thirteen? What an odd coincidence. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. His carriage stopped shortly after he put the watch back in his pocket. He had arrived at his home. Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened the carriage.
Clunk.
The door hit something when he opened it. The pale man with the thin nose and blasé expression nervously glanced up, thinking he had hit a lamppost.
There was no lamppost. Only the soulless eyes of a knight. No, it wasn't a knight--his armor was too smooth, and moved in strange ways. It was almost like this man was one with his shiny silver armor. The man gasped and backed away into the carriage, stuttering. "Wh-wh-wh... what are you? I... I didn't do anything!"
The knight that was not a knight looked at the man with pity. The metal man's faded blue marbles of eyes focused on the proper English Gentleman. The frightening person closed the door to the man's carriage and looked down, almost embarrassed, before muttering something in a deep, metallic, smooth voice. "Of course you did not, Gentleman. But This is where the battle I warned you British people about is going to happen. And if you don't move, you might be hurt." He coughed. This was an imposition, even to Metal Man, who had ripped a hole through time and landed in this poor gentleman's rose bushes. The Rose bushes looked more like a rose pile now, of course.
The man gulped, regaining his composure slowly. This is all in my head, I've just inhaled one too many bits of industrial smoke today. I shall make him go away... yes. The British gentleman fumbled at his gold-rimmed glasses and looked the man in the eye. If you look them in the eye then you will not stammer. He remembered when he was a child and his governess told him this. Of course, this was a far cry from that mess, as his governess was no longer alive and probably would have fainted at the sight of this metallic ogre perching on the sidewalk in front of her house. He finally spoke, seconds before the Metal Man was about to comment on his silence. His reedy, British voice quietly breathed out. "Uhh... but Sir. This is my house. And you probably aren't even real. And could you please fix my rose bushes." His left hand instinctually reached for the other door on the carriage; the gentleman no longer felt brave enough to face this steel spectacle alone.
The Metal Man reached at the Gentleman as if to reassure him. But to the frightened man who had never seen a time traveler before, it was more a vicious grasp aimed at ripping him apart like the cannibals he'd heard of in that book with Robinson Crusoe... the Metal Man's scar-torn face, jagged nose and vicious looking grin didn't help it either.
The Metal Man spoke as the Gentleman had almost leaped out of his skin. "I don't think you understand. Here. Take this to any store and we'll see who's lying." It was kind of made up on the spot; Metal Man had no clue how to properly convince this man his property would soon become a destroyed wasteland and if he didn't leave he would be ripped to shreds by one of many giant explosions. So he gave the man a wad of cash... no, it was coins. Coins of gold, minted in a time the Victorian English people had only written about in books--the distant future.
The man took the gold, his face turning steadily more ashen at the cold grasp the Metal Man had given his shoulder. His fingers... they felt cold and dead! What was this... some sort of magic-summoned abomination? The man shook as he nearly ripped the left-side door of his carriage open, stammering uncontrollably now. "Y-y-yes, I will go do that! P-p-please don't destroy my house while I a-a-a-m gone!" *SMACK* The door opened and closed, and it was like the the British Gentleman was never there. Metal Man sighed with relief as he straightened up.
Then he remembered, like an unpleasant task he'd forgotten, the driver was still sitting up top, and there were the horses. Amazingly, the horses had not been spooked... but, perhaps unfortunately for Metal Man, neither had the rider been.
The Rider glared at Metal Man, a roughed up old man who had been forced into work because he had no money, and back then nobody cared about family-less old men. This old man was about ready to die, but as a courtesy the British Gentleman had kept him on. Now this man stared at the Metal Man with his eyes. Metal Man felt the nasty glance and gave one back, but oddly, it was no use. The coachman spoke, his old, gnarly voice ripping out from his mouth and echoing everywhere. "And who do you think you are, just waltzing in and scaring away my only source of income? You are simply lucky his family is not IN that house, or else the Lord Himself might destroy you!" Metal Man winced. Some people across the street heard the ruckus and saw Metal Man.
Suddenly it was Deja vu, as they began to alternatively freak out as the old British guy had, or took a more angry, nasty look. Metal Man crossed his arms. He spoke sternly. "Now look, I don't mean to damage this timeline, so anything I hit will be rebuilt. I just can't revive people."
The coachman laughed. "Ha hah! Like I care. Life is miserable. So what if one of your things hits me and kills me? I. Don't. Care! I'm going to sit right here!"
Metal Man frowned, as if he caused any major timeline damage, he'd only attract more heat to chase him.
Oh wait, there was a portal right now. Looks like Mr. Coachman had already been altered unduly by his presence. Metal Man smashed a hand into his own face, deeply displeased.
"Yet another 'easy' job gone terribly wrong. Great. Just Great. Wonderful!"
His foe would appear to see quite a strange scene, indeed.
------------------------------------
It was just another quiet day near Westminster Abbey, just like it had been for quite a while. But on this orange-tinged Victorian afternoon in England, something else that was not quiet lurked beyond sight and sound. And this something... was going to make this day into a surreal mockery of what the residents of the area had come to expect from their days. It all started abruptly without meaning, as a distant clock chimed 1:00.
A black horse carriage with a noble gentleman inside rode smoothly down the cobblestone road, the clicking and clacking of the of the four stout horses pulling his vehicle echoing ahead of him. He was reading the recent news; something quite disturbing had been listed in the title. The previous day, a note written by lord-knows-what had fallen from the sky and smashed through the front window of a toy store. After the frightened children and parents inside had cleared away from the object, the local policeman had picked up the note. And written on this note, in the crazed hand of a desperate madman was this:
'I AM COMING FOR AN BATTLE OF AN HISTORICAL AN ANNITY, ANNN N n N N nn N N BN nb THIRTEEEN'
It made no sense to anyone. Countless experts stared at the writing, only to determine it was made by a man. But no man from the area; his handwriting was too crude and unsightly. No respectable person in those days had such cravenly twisted letters, nor did they speak mostly in the letters A and N. And so, this item had been posted as a curiosity--one which chilled this man's spine, for if letters could fall from the sky and shatter windows, the otherwise calm days of the city could be threatened by something much more.
The top-hatted pale man adjusted his reading glasses. The light of the smoggy afternoon reflected dully in the two circular lenses as he took out his silver pocketwatch. The bone-white dial and its quaint black needles pointed to numbers which caused undue alarm in his mind. 1:13. Didn't the letter say thirteen? What an odd coincidence. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. His carriage stopped shortly after he put the watch back in his pocket. He had arrived at his home. Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened the carriage.
Clunk.
The door hit something when he opened it. The pale man with the thin nose and blasé expression nervously glanced up, thinking he had hit a lamppost.
There was no lamppost. Only the soulless eyes of a knight. No, it wasn't a knight--his armor was too smooth, and moved in strange ways. It was almost like this man was one with his shiny silver armor. The man gasped and backed away into the carriage, stuttering. "Wh-wh-wh... what are you? I... I didn't do anything!"
The knight that was not a knight looked at the man with pity. The metal man's faded blue marbles of eyes focused on the proper English Gentleman. The frightening person closed the door to the man's carriage and looked down, almost embarrassed, before muttering something in a deep, metallic, smooth voice. "Of course you did not, Gentleman. But This is where the battle I warned you British people about is going to happen. And if you don't move, you might be hurt." He coughed. This was an imposition, even to Metal Man, who had ripped a hole through time and landed in this poor gentleman's rose bushes. The Rose bushes looked more like a rose pile now, of course.
The man gulped, regaining his composure slowly. This is all in my head, I've just inhaled one too many bits of industrial smoke today. I shall make him go away... yes. The British gentleman fumbled at his gold-rimmed glasses and looked the man in the eye. If you look them in the eye then you will not stammer. He remembered when he was a child and his governess told him this. Of course, this was a far cry from that mess, as his governess was no longer alive and probably would have fainted at the sight of this metallic ogre perching on the sidewalk in front of her house. He finally spoke, seconds before the Metal Man was about to comment on his silence. His reedy, British voice quietly breathed out. "Uhh... but Sir. This is my house. And you probably aren't even real. And could you please fix my rose bushes." His left hand instinctually reached for the other door on the carriage; the gentleman no longer felt brave enough to face this steel spectacle alone.
The Metal Man reached at the Gentleman as if to reassure him. But to the frightened man who had never seen a time traveler before, it was more a vicious grasp aimed at ripping him apart like the cannibals he'd heard of in that book with Robinson Crusoe... the Metal Man's scar-torn face, jagged nose and vicious looking grin didn't help it either.
The Metal Man spoke as the Gentleman had almost leaped out of his skin. "I don't think you understand. Here. Take this to any store and we'll see who's lying." It was kind of made up on the spot; Metal Man had no clue how to properly convince this man his property would soon become a destroyed wasteland and if he didn't leave he would be ripped to shreds by one of many giant explosions. So he gave the man a wad of cash... no, it was coins. Coins of gold, minted in a time the Victorian English people had only written about in books--the distant future.
The man took the gold, his face turning steadily more ashen at the cold grasp the Metal Man had given his shoulder. His fingers... they felt cold and dead! What was this... some sort of magic-summoned abomination? The man shook as he nearly ripped the left-side door of his carriage open, stammering uncontrollably now. "Y-y-yes, I will go do that! P-p-please don't destroy my house while I a-a-a-m gone!" *SMACK* The door opened and closed, and it was like the the British Gentleman was never there. Metal Man sighed with relief as he straightened up.
Then he remembered, like an unpleasant task he'd forgotten, the driver was still sitting up top, and there were the horses. Amazingly, the horses had not been spooked... but, perhaps unfortunately for Metal Man, neither had the rider been.
The Rider glared at Metal Man, a roughed up old man who had been forced into work because he had no money, and back then nobody cared about family-less old men. This old man was about ready to die, but as a courtesy the British Gentleman had kept him on. Now this man stared at the Metal Man with his eyes. Metal Man felt the nasty glance and gave one back, but oddly, it was no use. The coachman spoke, his old, gnarly voice ripping out from his mouth and echoing everywhere. "And who do you think you are, just waltzing in and scaring away my only source of income? You are simply lucky his family is not IN that house, or else the Lord Himself might destroy you!" Metal Man winced. Some people across the street heard the ruckus and saw Metal Man.
Suddenly it was Deja vu, as they began to alternatively freak out as the old British guy had, or took a more angry, nasty look. Metal Man crossed his arms. He spoke sternly. "Now look, I don't mean to damage this timeline, so anything I hit will be rebuilt. I just can't revive people."
The coachman laughed. "Ha hah! Like I care. Life is miserable. So what if one of your things hits me and kills me? I. Don't. Care! I'm going to sit right here!"
Metal Man frowned, as if he caused any major timeline damage, he'd only attract more heat to chase him.
Oh wait, there was a portal right now. Looks like Mr. Coachman had already been altered unduly by his presence. Metal Man smashed a hand into his own face, deeply displeased.
"Yet another 'easy' job gone terribly wrong. Great. Just Great. Wonderful!"
His foe would appear to see quite a strange scene, indeed.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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chibimod3
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- Location: Lurking and forgetting to post.
http://www.vgf.com/forums/gunjin-battle ... es-13.html This is the link to the character page of Kyle Franz. The post is under T3hDarkness but its a dual character. Post number 257. I will make the first post Acradius. Round 1 Fight!
Actual Tournament Post:
Setting:
A small abandoned village in the middle of the mountains. Held by a precarious ledge that falling off would mean instant death. Frequent Lightning Storms occur bringing snow along with them leaving a light snow on the ground. The decrepit huts falling apart providing cover to those who seek it. Charred by the lightning strikes of time they fall apart easily a hard punch able to take out a small building. Old stone and steel weapons and armor remain from a battle long forgotten by the few locals living in the mountains. While the snow softens your footfall to near nothingness you leave noticeable tracks along the ground. Winds constantly changing direction smells are easily traceable one moment then gone the next. Providing various tales and folklore of a Demon Boy hiding in it.
In Character:
He had been meditating in the forest when he had sensed it. A quiet beat of the electricity of a human. Or was it just a bear again? He couldn't quite tell because his Serpent's Eye couldn't discern what it was at this range. Would he risk getting closer and being discovered. No it was to dangerous, the locals were to scared to even enter this place. If it was human they were either a hunter or a foolish hiker trying to find the demon that lived in this city.
He stood up and decided he would find out what the thing was. There was no point waiting for an ambush. He walked over to his pack and withdrew his two marble sized spheres of a crystal who's name he didn't know. The energy crackled inside of it. "Good it's nearly full." He said aloud for no particular reason. He looked up at the stormy sky. "What will the future hold? Is it friend, foe, or neither? Only one way to find out." He donned on his breastplate and strapped the orbs in the sack around his neck. Easily accessible he would only use them if necessary. He walked toward the thing he had sensed prepared and trying to not get caught off guard. Every 5 minutes of hiking he would use the Serpent's Eye to make sure he was going the right way. At least now he knew it was humanoid. He continued his trek in silence only stopping once to get a drink after breaking the ice on a stream. He was nearing the man. It was just a matter of time.
Actual Tournament Post:
Setting:
A small abandoned village in the middle of the mountains. Held by a precarious ledge that falling off would mean instant death. Frequent Lightning Storms occur bringing snow along with them leaving a light snow on the ground. The decrepit huts falling apart providing cover to those who seek it. Charred by the lightning strikes of time they fall apart easily a hard punch able to take out a small building. Old stone and steel weapons and armor remain from a battle long forgotten by the few locals living in the mountains. While the snow softens your footfall to near nothingness you leave noticeable tracks along the ground. Winds constantly changing direction smells are easily traceable one moment then gone the next. Providing various tales and folklore of a Demon Boy hiding in it.
In Character:
He had been meditating in the forest when he had sensed it. A quiet beat of the electricity of a human. Or was it just a bear again? He couldn't quite tell because his Serpent's Eye couldn't discern what it was at this range. Would he risk getting closer and being discovered. No it was to dangerous, the locals were to scared to even enter this place. If it was human they were either a hunter or a foolish hiker trying to find the demon that lived in this city.
He stood up and decided he would find out what the thing was. There was no point waiting for an ambush. He walked over to his pack and withdrew his two marble sized spheres of a crystal who's name he didn't know. The energy crackled inside of it. "Good it's nearly full." He said aloud for no particular reason. He looked up at the stormy sky. "What will the future hold? Is it friend, foe, or neither? Only one way to find out." He donned on his breastplate and strapped the orbs in the sack around his neck. Easily accessible he would only use them if necessary. He walked toward the thing he had sensed prepared and trying to not get caught off guard. Every 5 minutes of hiking he would use the Serpent's Eye to make sure he was going the right way. At least now he knew it was humanoid. He continued his trek in silence only stopping once to get a drink after breaking the ice on a stream. He was nearing the man. It was just a matter of time.
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X-3
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i am X-3
A figure stood, alone in the darkness. Before him was the rubble of a once noble fortress. The former denizens laid in eternal rest, their formerly green shells serving as marks of demise.
"Another falls." the figure spoke in a high-pitched voice, adjusting his giant, blue-spotted hat. "I'll just grab that one coin before heading in World 5."
Within seconds, he was digging his small hands in the mess he had created. He pushed away shells, bones and spiked blocks, but could not find what he was looking for. Eventually, he surrendered: this was too much effort for some giant coin.
"Ugh, this stinks. I could have bought a 1-Up with that!" the figure shouted angrily to no one in particular, dusting himself off. "Well, I suppose I can search later." He then looked around worringly, hoping his reckless yelling did not attract any unwanted guests...
A figure stood, alone in the darkness. Before him was the rubble of a once noble fortress. The former denizens laid in eternal rest, their formerly green shells serving as marks of demise.
"Another falls." the figure spoke in a high-pitched voice, adjusting his giant, blue-spotted hat. "I'll just grab that one coin before heading in World 5."
Within seconds, he was digging his small hands in the mess he had created. He pushed away shells, bones and spiked blocks, but could not find what he was looking for. Eventually, he surrendered: this was too much effort for some giant coin.
"Ugh, this stinks. I could have bought a 1-Up with that!" the figure shouted angrily to no one in particular, dusting himself off. "Well, I suppose I can search later." He then looked around worringly, hoping his reckless yelling did not attract any unwanted guests...
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Acradius
- Member
- Posts: 963
- Joined: Sat Feb 24, 2001 2:00 am
- Location: Where Time, Space and Reality fade, and there is l
- Contact:
There was an odd mixture of clanking and crunching that day. Always they happened at the same time, never apart. They were rhythmic. If you could do the math in your head, and you knew when it was exactly noon, you could set your watch to the strange noise. Endlessly, the noise came, leaving a precise indication of where the noise was made. Clanking armor, crunching snow. There was more than just that noise, however. There was a low, muttering voice, obviously irritated about something. Interestingly enough, the voice came from the same source as the other sounds of clanking and crunching. Most of it was simply grumbling, but a few coherent sentences escaped once and awhile.
"Come see beautiful Westermoore country they said." clankrunch "The serene, natural tundra wasteland will take your mind off things they said" clankrunch "I swear... last time I go to a Dwarven travel agency." He crumpled up the flyer that a printer had undoubtedly spent days designing and hours putting together. He chucked it over his shoulder, somewhat irreverently spoiling this pristine spot of absolutely nothing. At least now there was something to look at. Who knew? Perhaps the next unlucky traveler out here would admire the well-set print. Assuming it didn't blow away in the wind. The mountains were beautiful at first, but they had long ago given away to nothing but treacherous ice, blinding-white snow and barren-gray rock. Oh well, Acradius Journeyman, Time Warrior, Psionic Master, Expert Swordsman, and Picker of Worst Vacation Spots Imaginable, was booked here for a week. Besides, it would probably be more work than it was worth to convince a Dwarf to give him his money back on the account of false advertising.
Rounding the final bend in the pass he was walking through, he came upon Westermoore's capital city; or rather, the blasted ruins of what used to be Westermoore's capital city. He made the face one's face makes when they put a bunch of sour milk into their mouths and definitely know it, but are too polite to spit it out in front of their hosts. Either I stepped through a time-warp to the future, to a time after this "Quaint, Down-Home Community" was the target of a serious Zippo raid, or those Dwarves didn't know who they were dealing with. And I of all people would know my time-warps. He had half a mind to simply teleport back there and give those ankle-biters what-for, but he decided to at least give a cursory psionic scan of the area. Well what do you know, one hit. Either the last survivor of whatever happened here, or the freak who did it. The man in the half-plate armor really did, at this point, toss a mental coin of whether it was worth investigating or not. Even when he knew which side would end up.
Well, no reason to be shy. Just to be safe though, he dropped his pack down by a distinctive-looking rock for easy retrieval. It should be noted at this point that none of the rocks were really distinctive-looking. In fact, they were all the same shade of gray, and in the same state of wind-eroded roundness. This one just happened to be closest to the path. Acradius sighed and attempted to not feel so gray or eroded himself, without much success. He checked his equipment. Quantum? Check. Elue Ring? Bingo. Encron Crystal Shard? Under his breastplate. Quanta-material armor? It would be quite a bit more drafty without it. Whatever was in town, he was ready for it. He trudged on in, clankrunching all the way.
"Come see beautiful Westermoore country they said." clankrunch "The serene, natural tundra wasteland will take your mind off things they said" clankrunch "I swear... last time I go to a Dwarven travel agency." He crumpled up the flyer that a printer had undoubtedly spent days designing and hours putting together. He chucked it over his shoulder, somewhat irreverently spoiling this pristine spot of absolutely nothing. At least now there was something to look at. Who knew? Perhaps the next unlucky traveler out here would admire the well-set print. Assuming it didn't blow away in the wind. The mountains were beautiful at first, but they had long ago given away to nothing but treacherous ice, blinding-white snow and barren-gray rock. Oh well, Acradius Journeyman, Time Warrior, Psionic Master, Expert Swordsman, and Picker of Worst Vacation Spots Imaginable, was booked here for a week. Besides, it would probably be more work than it was worth to convince a Dwarf to give him his money back on the account of false advertising.
Rounding the final bend in the pass he was walking through, he came upon Westermoore's capital city; or rather, the blasted ruins of what used to be Westermoore's capital city. He made the face one's face makes when they put a bunch of sour milk into their mouths and definitely know it, but are too polite to spit it out in front of their hosts. Either I stepped through a time-warp to the future, to a time after this "Quaint, Down-Home Community" was the target of a serious Zippo raid, or those Dwarves didn't know who they were dealing with. And I of all people would know my time-warps. He had half a mind to simply teleport back there and give those ankle-biters what-for, but he decided to at least give a cursory psionic scan of the area. Well what do you know, one hit. Either the last survivor of whatever happened here, or the freak who did it. The man in the half-plate armor really did, at this point, toss a mental coin of whether it was worth investigating or not. Even when he knew which side would end up.
Well, no reason to be shy. Just to be safe though, he dropped his pack down by a distinctive-looking rock for easy retrieval. It should be noted at this point that none of the rocks were really distinctive-looking. In fact, they were all the same shade of gray, and in the same state of wind-eroded roundness. This one just happened to be closest to the path. Acradius sighed and attempted to not feel so gray or eroded himself, without much success. He checked his equipment. Quantum? Check. Elue Ring? Bingo. Encron Crystal Shard? Under his breastplate. Quanta-material armor? It would be quite a bit more drafty without it. Whatever was in town, he was ready for it. He trudged on in, clankrunching all the way.
Chaos reigns within. Reflect, repent, and reboot. Order shall return. ~Windows, in Haiku format
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I REALLY HATE POKEMON!
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- Location: California, U.S.A
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I am only going to introduce my character for now; her name is Naomi Misora, from Death Note. My take on her is going to be from "Death Note Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases".
http://deathnote.wikia.com/wiki/Naomi_Misora
I'd rather not choose a location, so I will leave that to you Weegee.
http://deathnote.wikia.com/wiki/Naomi_Misora
I'd rather not choose a location, so I will leave that to you Weegee.
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Bad Dragonite
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- Posts: 8735
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2006 7:24 pm
- Location: Hetalia
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It was a random matchup, it MUST be fate.
Bryan:Well let's see, hmmm.
Bryan was standing in the hall of the 'Interdimensional teminal' as he had dubbed it , a hall that was shaped like a tube, it was colored mostly with many different shades of pink and white, the colours mixed over each other like someon had simply splashed buckets of paint on the wall, but the walls were quite fluid, constantly slowly spinning around and around.
Bryan:It says here that my fight is to be between myself, and someone only known as ,'Metal Man' .
Gee, I wonder what signs I'm supposed to look for. <_<
Oh well, may as well go now, I've got.... NOTHING BETTER TO DO!!!
The sound echoes through the 'halls'.
Bryan:Okay, it says duh dah dah, Old England, dah dah dah. Okay then.
Oh!, look at this, 'Wanted for causing major timeline disruption'."Extremely dangerous" Another one huh.
I guess I'll be fighting another one of those guys.
He swished his hand through the air in front of himself, and opened up a rift in space and time.
He stuck his left foot through, first, just to make sure that there was somewhere to step, too many times he had gone through an ended up falling to the street at about twenty feet up.It seemed safe, he stepped through...
He ended up on top of a roof of a one story building. He looked around in every direction he could to try to find his opponent,but to no avail...
Whoever had been living in the house, had apparently heard him moving around up top, and stepped out to see what it was making the racket.
House's owner:Hey! You! You in the funny clothes!
Bryan turned to him
House's owner:What are ya doin on top of my house!
Bryan: Hmm! I uh was uh-
Just then, he had heard someone yelling about a giant knight that was here to destroy something or other, and something about a sorcerer.
House's owner: Crazy old coot!
He spit then turned back to hear an explanation from Bryan, but as he turned and looked up to his roof, there was noone there.
He began stretching himself, and standing on the toe of his boots to see if Bryan was still up there, but he wasn't.
The house owner looked down and shook his head , while mumbling something to himself, and walking back to his house.
Meanwhile...
On the street where the man was running and yelling, Bryan stepped out of another portal, and grabbed the man by his two shoulders , who was still rambling the same thing over and over, the man semmed half mad, Bryan shook the man and said to him ,"Which way man, which way!" The man pointed i n the general direction that he was running from, and then got out of Byran's grip and started clumsily running again.
Bryan looked around for a moment, and noticed that every one was staring at him, and whispering to each other. And Why shouldn't they, He was a tall boy that was easily mistaken for a man, that had long curled, brown, italian hair, and was wearing A black waterproof jacket, with blue on rthe underside, A dark blue T-shirt, and dark blue jeans, along with black suede tennis shoes.
He was a bit out of place, but he knew that he could use that to his advantage.He pointed in the direction the man was running from, and yelled to everyone to run, and that there was going to be a giant duel occuring that would turn their town to a wasteland. Everyone laughed at him because of this. He didn't have time for this, so he proceeded to run into a nearby alley, and opened up another portal, this time leading him to a building close to where Metal man was, he looked over, to see the 'Knight' speaking to a carriage driver.
'This is the opurtune moment" he thought.
He snapped his fingers, and opened up a portal near Metal Man, in a spot he knew he would notice it.
He did, he looked over to it, and then proceeded to punch himself in the face.
While Metal Man was distracted, Bryan quietly opened another portal Behind Metal Man, so that he appeared with his back facing MetalMan's.
Bryan held his personally designed blade over his left shoulder. A kunk,kunk sound came out of nowhere as Bryan without turning around tapped Metal Man on the shoulder twice with his blade while saying "Knock, Knock".
Bryan jumped forward, while spinning around,and landed about seven feet away, as Metal Man turned around, in surprisingly un-surprised way.
Bryan had his knees bent slightly, while swaying alittle bit, and spinning his sword. (Which by the way looks something like the ultima keyblade from Kingdom Hearts)
Bryan: You know, they said you were extremely dangerous, but so far you don't seem like much at all.
They were both here to fight, but neither one seemed to want to attack first, what was going to happen?
OoC: Hope this is satisfactory.
Bryan:Well let's see, hmmm.
Bryan was standing in the hall of the 'Interdimensional teminal' as he had dubbed it , a hall that was shaped like a tube, it was colored mostly with many different shades of pink and white, the colours mixed over each other like someon had simply splashed buckets of paint on the wall, but the walls were quite fluid, constantly slowly spinning around and around.
Bryan:It says here that my fight is to be between myself, and someone only known as ,'Metal Man' .
Gee, I wonder what signs I'm supposed to look for. <_<
Oh well, may as well go now, I've got.... NOTHING BETTER TO DO!!!
The sound echoes through the 'halls'.
Bryan:Okay, it says duh dah dah, Old England, dah dah dah. Okay then.
Oh!, look at this, 'Wanted for causing major timeline disruption'."Extremely dangerous" Another one huh.
I guess I'll be fighting another one of those guys.
He swished his hand through the air in front of himself, and opened up a rift in space and time.
He stuck his left foot through, first, just to make sure that there was somewhere to step, too many times he had gone through an ended up falling to the street at about twenty feet up.It seemed safe, he stepped through...
He ended up on top of a roof of a one story building. He looked around in every direction he could to try to find his opponent,but to no avail...
Whoever had been living in the house, had apparently heard him moving around up top, and stepped out to see what it was making the racket.
House's owner:Hey! You! You in the funny clothes!
Bryan turned to him
House's owner:What are ya doin on top of my house!
Bryan: Hmm! I uh was uh-
Just then, he had heard someone yelling about a giant knight that was here to destroy something or other, and something about a sorcerer.
House's owner: Crazy old coot!
He spit then turned back to hear an explanation from Bryan, but as he turned and looked up to his roof, there was noone there.
He began stretching himself, and standing on the toe of his boots to see if Bryan was still up there, but he wasn't.
The house owner looked down and shook his head , while mumbling something to himself, and walking back to his house.
Meanwhile...
On the street where the man was running and yelling, Bryan stepped out of another portal, and grabbed the man by his two shoulders , who was still rambling the same thing over and over, the man semmed half mad, Bryan shook the man and said to him ,"Which way man, which way!" The man pointed i n the general direction that he was running from, and then got out of Byran's grip and started clumsily running again.
Bryan looked around for a moment, and noticed that every one was staring at him, and whispering to each other. And Why shouldn't they, He was a tall boy that was easily mistaken for a man, that had long curled, brown, italian hair, and was wearing A black waterproof jacket, with blue on rthe underside, A dark blue T-shirt, and dark blue jeans, along with black suede tennis shoes.
He was a bit out of place, but he knew that he could use that to his advantage.He pointed in the direction the man was running from, and yelled to everyone to run, and that there was going to be a giant duel occuring that would turn their town to a wasteland. Everyone laughed at him because of this. He didn't have time for this, so he proceeded to run into a nearby alley, and opened up another portal, this time leading him to a building close to where Metal man was, he looked over, to see the 'Knight' speaking to a carriage driver.
'This is the opurtune moment" he thought.
He snapped his fingers, and opened up a portal near Metal Man, in a spot he knew he would notice it.
He did, he looked over to it, and then proceeded to punch himself in the face.
While Metal Man was distracted, Bryan quietly opened another portal Behind Metal Man, so that he appeared with his back facing MetalMan's.
Bryan held his personally designed blade over his left shoulder. A kunk,kunk sound came out of nowhere as Bryan without turning around tapped Metal Man on the shoulder twice with his blade while saying "Knock, Knock".
Bryan jumped forward, while spinning around,and landed about seven feet away, as Metal Man turned around, in surprisingly un-surprised way.
Bryan had his knees bent slightly, while swaying alittle bit, and spinning his sword. (Which by the way looks something like the ultima keyblade from Kingdom Hearts)
Bryan: You know, they said you were extremely dangerous, but so far you don't seem like much at all.
They were both here to fight, but neither one seemed to want to attack first, what was going to happen?
OoC: Hope this is satisfactory.
-I'm Vgfian
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Metal Man
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The man of steel turned around several times, trying to keep up with the strange man who continued to generate portals and run around. God dammit, stop moving you waste of flesh! He wasn't particularly happy now, nor would he be for a while, as he reflexively thrashed at the spaces where his foe had just been.
The Coachman, in his dire brown attire, laughed at Metal Man's misfortune. After all, the shiny steel tower had come here as an invader--and now suddenly there was a second one who overrode the first. He coughed out another speech. "Oh, not so tough now, are you? Well that's just too bad, because I'm sure he's going to tell you that some waaasteland is going to occur and you will be destroyed if you don't run away. Ha ha ha ha ha." He rocked a bit from the laughter.
"SHUT UP!" Metal Man gave the carriage the coachman was on a swift punch, and it rolled away a bit, the Coachman's mirth replaced with wide-eyed shock for a moment. While he regained his composure, Metal Man swiveled around to face his opponent. He looked his foe over well.
"Now that that is done with, I shall..."
Metal's blue visor scanned the various features and... ...determined he was fighting a RADIOACTIVE FROG MAN.
"...Gaaahhhhhh!" The Metal Man furiously punched HIMSELF in the visor, smashing away the offending, useless information. Apparently, the trip had damaged his scanning device, so now he was going all manual. And he HATED all manual. His tall, smooth steel armor clanked towards Bryan like an ancient clockwork beast, groaning and clicking as each piece moved with a slow rhythm. The orange sunlight reflected softly on his blue visor, making it hard to see the Metal Man's eyes. It becaome apparent to Bryan that his foe was SERIOUSLY ticked. But it was okay; this was just a battle, right? Nothing unusual beyond the usual would happen. The rules forbade it, Bryan thought to himself.And they did. Metal Man couldn't teleport through space, slice him in half with a deathly portal, and then play hockey with his skull like had been listed in some of his old battle logs.
Unfortunately for Bryan, that happening to him would soon be considered a merciful fate. With the resonating CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH of Metal Man's hoof-like boots crushing the concrete coming closer, Bryan prepared for the attack. He had refused to attack first, so, as all things went, Metal Man would do the honors, and then probably get counter-attacked into oblivion.
Meanwhile, Metal Man saw things differently. Like a bad day at the job, or a day without the morning coffee, he was no longer thinking rationally. He had jolly well screwed up this timeline, and now some more people were after him. Yet again! How many more peons do they have to send at me? They'll never catch me alive! FINE! I'll just have to injure this one so much they never send another one out of fear of me killing them! Bah!
A nearby crowd of onlookers watched Metal Man as he stopped a few feet from Bryan. Bryan, who was smirking at the dismay and outrage he had caused in Metal Man. The onlookers wore a variety of Victorian costumes... but one in particular had cause for alarm. The police bobby of the district stood there, dumbfounded, as a woman in a pink dress yelled at him. "What are you doing there? WHY AREN'T YOU ARRESTING THOSE MAD MEN! You saw the letter. They might kill us all! Or morph into sorcerors! Or bloody well burn down the church!"
The policeman, whose eyes were now the size of dinner plates, stared at the woman like she had suggested for him to leap off a high waterfall. "B-but.. look at them. What can I do to them with this?"
The woman was unconvinced. "Just stop them! Otherwise, what kind of policeman does that make you? A pathetic one?" She ruffled her dress, frowning with her tawny, taut-skinned pale face.
The policeman, a more round sort with a mustache, sighed. "Fine, I will deal with it. But when me head comes flying back with a side of fire, YOU'LL be the one who has to explain how I died." The woman let out a slight gasp at that nasty line, as the angry policeman hesitantly lurked over towards Metal Man.
The oblivious Metal Man, who was now in full rambling mode. He was pointing at Bryan. "...and another thing! All of you idiots who come after me, pretending like it's a game! You know what? It's not a game, you idiots! Haven't you inspected all those dead bodies of people who tried to defeat me? I can't stop killing if I..." He continued on, the policeman getting ever closer. Nearer by, the suicidal Coachman was perched behind one of those quaint knee-high iron fences, staring like some kind of voyeur and chuckling at the spectacle. It was no wonder they had nicknamed that man "Larry the Freak"; some people in the crowd half-hoped a stray instant-death causing projectile would rip his annoying head off already, even!
"And another thing! You worthless bag of--" Metal Man was about to say something very unkind, but then suddenly a moderate sized man of blue attire tapped on his shoulder, holding up his nightstick defensively.
"You, sir, are under arrest for disturbing the peace!"
The policeman bared his teeth and was about to try to do something, when Metal Man's massive left arm flew into his nightstick and sent him flying right back where he had come from. His bent nightstick flew over him and became stuck in the brick wall above his head. Metal Man sighed and, making a useless gesture (for him), rubbed the front of his helmet with his metallic, unfeeling hand.
Bryan had thought to attack, but seeing this buffoon in action was much more entertaining. I bet he'll kill himself by accident before he even gets to me, he thought vainly. Or perhaps something else similar, since we all can't read minds perfectly.
After what seemed forever (the Coachman compulsively checked his own watch, determining no less than 7 minutes had been wasted with posing, rambling, and the policeman incident), the Metal Man lurched forward, his metallic armor rattling as he finally came to within hitting distance of Bryan. He threw a punch.
Bryan deftly parried it.
He threw another punch.
Bryan parried this one so well it hit the ground. Metal Man cursed. "Not again! I hate when I fail to set the--" His next words were obscured by Bryan's sword slash, which raked across Metal Man's visor and made some amusing sparks when it scratched across his armor. The audience clapped softly, as Metal Man clenched his fake fists and moved back a foot.
"GAH! Con sarnit sonuva whoozit corn gobbling AAARGHHH!" The poor, poor intergalactic warlord had run out of patience.
"What are you going to do, fall on me?" Joked the happy-go-lucky fighter that was Bryan.
The crowd leaned in for Metal Man's inevitable scandalous and/or exciting response... but they got gypped. "HUAAARRRRGH!"
"Hua-wha--OW!" Bryan was hit sideways by something that was not a punch. It was by far the most primitive technique seen so far--Metal Man was flailing at him with diagonal hammer-blow style fist smashes. But the man of steel armor was so damn mad that it didn't matter how hard Bryan parried, or stabbed, or even ran away. The endless cascade of hideous metal fists smashing his flesh and making violent cracking and ripping noises was inevitable. For a few feet, the now beyond ticked off Metal Man worked his way several feet forward, using his fist smashes to move his opponent with him.
THIS STUPID DAY... I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE IT! AAAAAAARGH! He looked up, seeing nothing but orange haze. HATE THOSE VICTORIAN JERKS, HATE THIS INTERDIMENSIONAL JERK... HATE THE JERKS WHO DESIGNED THE SCANNING SYSTEM! AHHHHHH!!!! His tirade finished near a lamppost. Bryan straightened himself up, raised his sword...
*SNAP* Metal Man, in his fury, grabbed whatever he saw. He reached for Bryan, and instead ripped out the gaslight post. Dammit, not this! I want him! He flung his arm out to catch Bryan. As the sound of gas leaking hissed into the air, Metal Man realized he had done something else quite strange. He swung the lamp in an arc, its gas catching on fire. The flaming glass bulb at the end collided into Bryan's head like a spear, and suddenly the whole thing exploded, throwing Bryan at the foot of a coach that had no horses.
Speaking of Coaches, the Coachman cleverly snuck up behind Metal Man and peered over his shoulder. The Man of Steel was so mad as to miss the Coachman sticking a bit of leather around his neck. Which the Coachman then tied to a nearby tree. He gestured to the audience, who instead stared at him in horror, expecting Metal Man to rip the nasty Coachman in half and hurl his bloody halves into the nasty burning glass fragments that last attack made.
The Man of Steel lurched towards his foe, whose head was spinning, and had bits of flaming Victorian metal and glass lodged in him. He sat by the coach, waiting--and soon the chance came. As the smell of burning metal ruined the air for everyone, Metal swung at Bryan. But Bryan was smarter than this madman!
*SCHLICHT* The blade stabbed Metal Man down in the chest. The sword stuck there, some light-colored red particulate grease running down in a sickening matter. Metal Man clenched his teeth, his face narrowing. "What... what? NO ONE STABS MEEEE!!!"
The audience shrieked as the infuriated, unknowingly noosed Man punched Bryan into the coach. As the sound and fury of shattering wood and metal and glass from the brown, featureless coach embedded itself into Bryan, the man of Steel then gave the whole thing a kick, causing it and Bryan to collapse into the middle of the roadway.
An unfortunately placed event then took place, as a horse-dran carriage trampled and ran over the mess. Its driver, a frazzled bank man, wouldn't stop for the devil himself--and so, opted to get old timey wheel tracks all over Bryan's nice and perfect body.
The Metal Man finally calmed down, although he was now in pain. He pulled the sword out and held it aloft. "Bah. What is this thing made of anyway?" He then went to make a dramatic pose. "Oh well. You're done for, Bry--" He held the shiny blade aloft in the smoky England air. The blade just so happened to touch the leather noose that had been stretching oh-so-far to accomodate its unwary wearer's movement. *SNAP* The force, plus Metal Man's leaning forward, added up.
The Man Monolith crashed to the ground face-first, the sword flying out of his hands and landing next to Bryan. The Coachman laughed almost like the Duck Hunt Dog would, and so did the crowd chuckle. About this time, the thrown policeman realized he wasn't dead, and began to stand up. He spoke in a shaken voice, mostly to the onlookers. "Uhh... Git out of here! All of you! You'll be killed!"
The lady stared at him distastefully, and stood her ground.
And as all this was going on, Metal Man lay on the ground, in pain and furious. He mumbled to himself. "Gaw dangit, that's the second time this battle! I'm not going to let something trip me up again! Stupid... stupid things!" He clutched a piece of the leather rope which had held him previously, as the smouldering, smelly fires from the gaslight experience slowly burned out.
The Coachman, in his dire brown attire, laughed at Metal Man's misfortune. After all, the shiny steel tower had come here as an invader--and now suddenly there was a second one who overrode the first. He coughed out another speech. "Oh, not so tough now, are you? Well that's just too bad, because I'm sure he's going to tell you that some waaasteland is going to occur and you will be destroyed if you don't run away. Ha ha ha ha ha." He rocked a bit from the laughter.
"SHUT UP!" Metal Man gave the carriage the coachman was on a swift punch, and it rolled away a bit, the Coachman's mirth replaced with wide-eyed shock for a moment. While he regained his composure, Metal Man swiveled around to face his opponent. He looked his foe over well.
"Now that that is done with, I shall..."
Metal's blue visor scanned the various features and... ...determined he was fighting a RADIOACTIVE FROG MAN.
"...Gaaahhhhhh!" The Metal Man furiously punched HIMSELF in the visor, smashing away the offending, useless information. Apparently, the trip had damaged his scanning device, so now he was going all manual. And he HATED all manual. His tall, smooth steel armor clanked towards Bryan like an ancient clockwork beast, groaning and clicking as each piece moved with a slow rhythm. The orange sunlight reflected softly on his blue visor, making it hard to see the Metal Man's eyes. It becaome apparent to Bryan that his foe was SERIOUSLY ticked. But it was okay; this was just a battle, right? Nothing unusual beyond the usual would happen. The rules forbade it, Bryan thought to himself.And they did. Metal Man couldn't teleport through space, slice him in half with a deathly portal, and then play hockey with his skull like had been listed in some of his old battle logs.
Unfortunately for Bryan, that happening to him would soon be considered a merciful fate. With the resonating CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH of Metal Man's hoof-like boots crushing the concrete coming closer, Bryan prepared for the attack. He had refused to attack first, so, as all things went, Metal Man would do the honors, and then probably get counter-attacked into oblivion.
Meanwhile, Metal Man saw things differently. Like a bad day at the job, or a day without the morning coffee, he was no longer thinking rationally. He had jolly well screwed up this timeline, and now some more people were after him. Yet again! How many more peons do they have to send at me? They'll never catch me alive! FINE! I'll just have to injure this one so much they never send another one out of fear of me killing them! Bah!
A nearby crowd of onlookers watched Metal Man as he stopped a few feet from Bryan. Bryan, who was smirking at the dismay and outrage he had caused in Metal Man. The onlookers wore a variety of Victorian costumes... but one in particular had cause for alarm. The police bobby of the district stood there, dumbfounded, as a woman in a pink dress yelled at him. "What are you doing there? WHY AREN'T YOU ARRESTING THOSE MAD MEN! You saw the letter. They might kill us all! Or morph into sorcerors! Or bloody well burn down the church!"
The policeman, whose eyes were now the size of dinner plates, stared at the woman like she had suggested for him to leap off a high waterfall. "B-but.. look at them. What can I do to them with this?"
The woman was unconvinced. "Just stop them! Otherwise, what kind of policeman does that make you? A pathetic one?" She ruffled her dress, frowning with her tawny, taut-skinned pale face.
The policeman, a more round sort with a mustache, sighed. "Fine, I will deal with it. But when me head comes flying back with a side of fire, YOU'LL be the one who has to explain how I died." The woman let out a slight gasp at that nasty line, as the angry policeman hesitantly lurked over towards Metal Man.
The oblivious Metal Man, who was now in full rambling mode. He was pointing at Bryan. "...and another thing! All of you idiots who come after me, pretending like it's a game! You know what? It's not a game, you idiots! Haven't you inspected all those dead bodies of people who tried to defeat me? I can't stop killing if I..." He continued on, the policeman getting ever closer. Nearer by, the suicidal Coachman was perched behind one of those quaint knee-high iron fences, staring like some kind of voyeur and chuckling at the spectacle. It was no wonder they had nicknamed that man "Larry the Freak"; some people in the crowd half-hoped a stray instant-death causing projectile would rip his annoying head off already, even!
"And another thing! You worthless bag of--" Metal Man was about to say something very unkind, but then suddenly a moderate sized man of blue attire tapped on his shoulder, holding up his nightstick defensively.
"You, sir, are under arrest for disturbing the peace!"
The policeman bared his teeth and was about to try to do something, when Metal Man's massive left arm flew into his nightstick and sent him flying right back where he had come from. His bent nightstick flew over him and became stuck in the brick wall above his head. Metal Man sighed and, making a useless gesture (for him), rubbed the front of his helmet with his metallic, unfeeling hand.
Bryan had thought to attack, but seeing this buffoon in action was much more entertaining. I bet he'll kill himself by accident before he even gets to me, he thought vainly. Or perhaps something else similar, since we all can't read minds perfectly.
After what seemed forever (the Coachman compulsively checked his own watch, determining no less than 7 minutes had been wasted with posing, rambling, and the policeman incident), the Metal Man lurched forward, his metallic armor rattling as he finally came to within hitting distance of Bryan. He threw a punch.
Bryan deftly parried it.
He threw another punch.
Bryan parried this one so well it hit the ground. Metal Man cursed. "Not again! I hate when I fail to set the--" His next words were obscured by Bryan's sword slash, which raked across Metal Man's visor and made some amusing sparks when it scratched across his armor. The audience clapped softly, as Metal Man clenched his fake fists and moved back a foot.
"GAH! Con sarnit sonuva whoozit corn gobbling AAARGHHH!" The poor, poor intergalactic warlord had run out of patience.
"What are you going to do, fall on me?" Joked the happy-go-lucky fighter that was Bryan.
The crowd leaned in for Metal Man's inevitable scandalous and/or exciting response... but they got gypped. "HUAAARRRRGH!"
"Hua-wha--OW!" Bryan was hit sideways by something that was not a punch. It was by far the most primitive technique seen so far--Metal Man was flailing at him with diagonal hammer-blow style fist smashes. But the man of steel armor was so damn mad that it didn't matter how hard Bryan parried, or stabbed, or even ran away. The endless cascade of hideous metal fists smashing his flesh and making violent cracking and ripping noises was inevitable. For a few feet, the now beyond ticked off Metal Man worked his way several feet forward, using his fist smashes to move his opponent with him.
THIS STUPID DAY... I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE IT! AAAAAAARGH! He looked up, seeing nothing but orange haze. HATE THOSE VICTORIAN JERKS, HATE THIS INTERDIMENSIONAL JERK... HATE THE JERKS WHO DESIGNED THE SCANNING SYSTEM! AHHHHHH!!!! His tirade finished near a lamppost. Bryan straightened himself up, raised his sword...
*SNAP* Metal Man, in his fury, grabbed whatever he saw. He reached for Bryan, and instead ripped out the gaslight post. Dammit, not this! I want him! He flung his arm out to catch Bryan. As the sound of gas leaking hissed into the air, Metal Man realized he had done something else quite strange. He swung the lamp in an arc, its gas catching on fire. The flaming glass bulb at the end collided into Bryan's head like a spear, and suddenly the whole thing exploded, throwing Bryan at the foot of a coach that had no horses.
Speaking of Coaches, the Coachman cleverly snuck up behind Metal Man and peered over his shoulder. The Man of Steel was so mad as to miss the Coachman sticking a bit of leather around his neck. Which the Coachman then tied to a nearby tree. He gestured to the audience, who instead stared at him in horror, expecting Metal Man to rip the nasty Coachman in half and hurl his bloody halves into the nasty burning glass fragments that last attack made.
The Man of Steel lurched towards his foe, whose head was spinning, and had bits of flaming Victorian metal and glass lodged in him. He sat by the coach, waiting--and soon the chance came. As the smell of burning metal ruined the air for everyone, Metal swung at Bryan. But Bryan was smarter than this madman!
*SCHLICHT* The blade stabbed Metal Man down in the chest. The sword stuck there, some light-colored red particulate grease running down in a sickening matter. Metal Man clenched his teeth, his face narrowing. "What... what? NO ONE STABS MEEEE!!!"
The audience shrieked as the infuriated, unknowingly noosed Man punched Bryan into the coach. As the sound and fury of shattering wood and metal and glass from the brown, featureless coach embedded itself into Bryan, the man of Steel then gave the whole thing a kick, causing it and Bryan to collapse into the middle of the roadway.
An unfortunately placed event then took place, as a horse-dran carriage trampled and ran over the mess. Its driver, a frazzled bank man, wouldn't stop for the devil himself--and so, opted to get old timey wheel tracks all over Bryan's nice and perfect body.
The Metal Man finally calmed down, although he was now in pain. He pulled the sword out and held it aloft. "Bah. What is this thing made of anyway?" He then went to make a dramatic pose. "Oh well. You're done for, Bry--" He held the shiny blade aloft in the smoky England air. The blade just so happened to touch the leather noose that had been stretching oh-so-far to accomodate its unwary wearer's movement. *SNAP* The force, plus Metal Man's leaning forward, added up.
The Man Monolith crashed to the ground face-first, the sword flying out of his hands and landing next to Bryan. The Coachman laughed almost like the Duck Hunt Dog would, and so did the crowd chuckle. About this time, the thrown policeman realized he wasn't dead, and began to stand up. He spoke in a shaken voice, mostly to the onlookers. "Uhh... Git out of here! All of you! You'll be killed!"
The lady stared at him distastefully, and stood her ground.
And as all this was going on, Metal Man lay on the ground, in pain and furious. He mumbled to himself. "Gaw dangit, that's the second time this battle! I'm not going to let something trip me up again! Stupid... stupid things!" He clutched a piece of the leather rope which had held him previously, as the smouldering, smelly fires from the gaslight experience slowly burned out.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Greenmarioman
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- Location: the leather club two blocks down
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Woot. Lets get this going, IRHP. I suck at locations so screw it.
------
"AAAHGG! WHY ME? OH GOD HAVE MERCY! AAAHHH!"
The poor man fell backwards onto the floor and backed away into a corner. He was trapped, with no where to go. His pale body grew stiff, then twisted and jerked around on the floor. His nose began to grow large and bulbous. His clothes changed into a forest green with a pair of blue overalls. The last thing he saw was the large blue eyes of Weegee.
Weegee exited out of the back door of the house where he just was. He hadn't fully taken the man's body, so he left it there, half transformed, to rot. He turned down an alley of a dark, quiet british town. The town was normally bustling and loud, but the screams of the poor man pierced the sky and quieted the town. Then knew Weegee had struck again. Someone had to stop him.
The next night...
A woman was kneeling down besides the body of the man I talked about earlier. She had black hair and a sad looking face. She stood up and shook her head.
"This is the eighth time this happened here... this is too much." she sighed.
Her name was Naomi. She was sent from Tokyo to England for use of her excellent detective skills. The case of people showing up dead in their house wearing overalls and having large eyes was showing up alot recently, and she was one of the many detectives sent to find out what the hell was going on.
Naomi bit her lip. "I'm gonna go look around outside." A police officer near by nodded his head and she left the gouse. There was yello police tape all around. It was late, and most people were asleep. The townsfolk were told that it was smart to be asleep, because their eyes won't be open. She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy and a bit foggy.
The sound of a snapped twig made her eyes look back down. She glanced around and saw someone standing there in the shadows. Her eyes widened in fright when she realized who it was.
------
"AAAHGG! WHY ME? OH GOD HAVE MERCY! AAAHHH!"
The poor man fell backwards onto the floor and backed away into a corner. He was trapped, with no where to go. His pale body grew stiff, then twisted and jerked around on the floor. His nose began to grow large and bulbous. His clothes changed into a forest green with a pair of blue overalls. The last thing he saw was the large blue eyes of Weegee.
Weegee exited out of the back door of the house where he just was. He hadn't fully taken the man's body, so he left it there, half transformed, to rot. He turned down an alley of a dark, quiet british town. The town was normally bustling and loud, but the screams of the poor man pierced the sky and quieted the town. Then knew Weegee had struck again. Someone had to stop him.
The next night...
A woman was kneeling down besides the body of the man I talked about earlier. She had black hair and a sad looking face. She stood up and shook her head.
"This is the eighth time this happened here... this is too much." she sighed.
Her name was Naomi. She was sent from Tokyo to England for use of her excellent detective skills. The case of people showing up dead in their house wearing overalls and having large eyes was showing up alot recently, and she was one of the many detectives sent to find out what the hell was going on.
Naomi bit her lip. "I'm gonna go look around outside." A police officer near by nodded his head and she left the gouse. There was yello police tape all around. It was late, and most people were asleep. The townsfolk were told that it was smart to be asleep, because their eyes won't be open. She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy and a bit foggy.
The sound of a snapped twig made her eyes look back down. She glanced around and saw someone standing there in the shadows. Her eyes widened in fright when she realized who it was.
ツ
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Trickster-kun
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- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
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'kay, X-3, let's rumble~
From the edge of the rubble and the discarded shells, a brilliant circle formed into the ground, quickly expanding into a convoluted mass of lines and smaller circles slowly spinning around clockwise. Hovering close to the ground, the circle emitted a flash of light, and from it emerged, upward, a humanoid figure: a silver-haired young man, of some 20-odd years of age in appearance, dressed in a sturdy-looking combination of red vest, pants and high black leather boots, his eyes closed and his gloved right hand grasping a golden staff. The artifact was a shiny, 5-feet piece of intricate space metal with a revolver-like chamber close to the tip, which was shaped like a crescent moon with a bright crimson orb in its center acting as a core. All around his waist, legs and forearms were small, compact round cartridges tightly tied with fancy, smooth green straps.
The man opened his eyes quickly as he emerged form the circle and it closed, seemingly being absorbed into his own body by his legs. Grasping the golden staff with both hands, he took a deep, deep breath as he looked around the disaster zone: all the shells, the rubble and the ruined pieces of cloth. He found it sickening, which was clearly expressed in his face as he kept on looking around for just a few seconds... then he saw it.
The thing with the giant head, staring at him like he was the newest attraction in a freak circus. Amrick Ukihara pointed the tip of the staff at it, unsure whether to aim for the head or the body, when the red orb mused in a clear, metallic and slow voice: "TARGET DETECTED. INSTRUCTIONS, MASTER." Words in another language flashed in and out through the orb's display as it spoke, and Amrick smiled lightly at it as he replied in a cool tone: "Prepare for battle, Concierto-- we'll finish it early and go home for your maintenance." "YES, SIR." the artifact replied back calmly.
*KA-CLUNK!* Clicking loudly, the revolver chamber loaded one of the cartridges into the mechanism, causing the staff to start humming with a low rumble. Never taking the aim off the one with the big hat, he tightened his grip on the staff: under other circumstances, he could've just laughed at how ridiculous the thing looked. Well, he still could've laughed, but right now, there was an awful lot riding on hunting down this seemingly simple being-- he chose his words carefully, unsure if the thing could understand what he said.
"You have been branded as an anomaly by the Time and Space Administration Bureau!" Amrick yelled, slowly and deliberately. It was comical; the thing in the hat would probably laugh at him later if it actually spoke the same language. "As such, I have orders to take you out. Sorry." and upon the last word he burst straight forward with a crackle of raw magic energy, aiming the tip of the staff straight ahead as if he was going to pierce that humongous blue spotted hat.
But the hit never came. He came to an abrupt halt about 10 feet away, not even skidding on the rubble, and thrust his weapon forward while muttering: "Blast away, Concierto!" The ruby orb replied by flashing the words 'Rapture's Prelude' in clear white font, and then, without as much of a warning, several small orbs of crackling blue energy formed around the tip and launched forward, their sole purpose being to explode before they hit the Mushroom and rip it apart with sheer blunt force.
From the edge of the rubble and the discarded shells, a brilliant circle formed into the ground, quickly expanding into a convoluted mass of lines and smaller circles slowly spinning around clockwise. Hovering close to the ground, the circle emitted a flash of light, and from it emerged, upward, a humanoid figure: a silver-haired young man, of some 20-odd years of age in appearance, dressed in a sturdy-looking combination of red vest, pants and high black leather boots, his eyes closed and his gloved right hand grasping a golden staff. The artifact was a shiny, 5-feet piece of intricate space metal with a revolver-like chamber close to the tip, which was shaped like a crescent moon with a bright crimson orb in its center acting as a core. All around his waist, legs and forearms were small, compact round cartridges tightly tied with fancy, smooth green straps.
The man opened his eyes quickly as he emerged form the circle and it closed, seemingly being absorbed into his own body by his legs. Grasping the golden staff with both hands, he took a deep, deep breath as he looked around the disaster zone: all the shells, the rubble and the ruined pieces of cloth. He found it sickening, which was clearly expressed in his face as he kept on looking around for just a few seconds... then he saw it.
The thing with the giant head, staring at him like he was the newest attraction in a freak circus. Amrick Ukihara pointed the tip of the staff at it, unsure whether to aim for the head or the body, when the red orb mused in a clear, metallic and slow voice: "TARGET DETECTED. INSTRUCTIONS, MASTER." Words in another language flashed in and out through the orb's display as it spoke, and Amrick smiled lightly at it as he replied in a cool tone: "Prepare for battle, Concierto-- we'll finish it early and go home for your maintenance." "YES, SIR." the artifact replied back calmly.
*KA-CLUNK!* Clicking loudly, the revolver chamber loaded one of the cartridges into the mechanism, causing the staff to start humming with a low rumble. Never taking the aim off the one with the big hat, he tightened his grip on the staff: under other circumstances, he could've just laughed at how ridiculous the thing looked. Well, he still could've laughed, but right now, there was an awful lot riding on hunting down this seemingly simple being-- he chose his words carefully, unsure if the thing could understand what he said.
"You have been branded as an anomaly by the Time and Space Administration Bureau!" Amrick yelled, slowly and deliberately. It was comical; the thing in the hat would probably laugh at him later if it actually spoke the same language. "As such, I have orders to take you out. Sorry." and upon the last word he burst straight forward with a crackle of raw magic energy, aiming the tip of the staff straight ahead as if he was going to pierce that humongous blue spotted hat.
But the hit never came. He came to an abrupt halt about 10 feet away, not even skidding on the rubble, and thrust his weapon forward while muttering: "Blast away, Concierto!" The ruby orb replied by flashing the words 'Rapture's Prelude' in clear white font, and then, without as much of a warning, several small orbs of crackling blue energy formed around the tip and launched forward, their sole purpose being to explode before they hit the Mushroom and rip it apart with sheer blunt force.
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Bad Dragonite
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- Location: Hetalia
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OoC:Sorry if its not satisfactory, I've been awake for two days, and found it hard to work.[/OoC]
Bryan:Hehehehehe
MetalMan:What!? What's so funny!?
He sat himself up, and looked around for a moment to get his barings, and as his vision came to the general area of the carriage, there he saw Bryan standing with his arms crossed, leaning up against the carriage, pieces of metal and glass still in his half-burned face . And a print over his right pectoral muscle, where the carriage had gone over.
Bryan: HehHAHAHAH! Did you really think that it would be so easy to take me out?
He said as he pulled a small piece of metal from his half blackened face, and tossed it to the ground.
MM: You!? I thought you were f-
Bryan:Finished? Yeah, you would.
MM: Rrr,Dammit you peace of-
Bryan: Ah-ah, we have ladies present, he said as he pointed in the general direction of a group of unidentifiable young women. All of the women jumped back in synchronization as he pointed to them. He simply smiled at them and winked. One of the young women wearing a purple dress fainted on the spot, two of the others catching her. It was pretty much impossible tell if it was his charm, or sheer terror that caused her fainting.
Anyway, Bryan looked back at MetalMan, and then realised that he still had shards of metal ad glass in his face.Not much blood though, he never was an easy bleeder.
He shook his head, and pretty much every piece flew out, the ones that didn't he picked out as he started walking towards MetalMan. The imprints were still there, but still not much blood.
Bryan: You know, I know that the guys up top usually exagerate, but when they said you were ,'extremely dangerous' well that was a flat out LIE! (He never actually received orders from anyone, but he had realised what the metal man had said earlier, and he decided to play along in order to get information)
MM: Ye-
Bryan: ss-aah!, that hurt, He just realised that he still had pieces of who knows what in his back.
Bryan: No problem, I'll just have my nanobots simply heal me....I SAID," I'll simply have my nanobots heal me!'
Just then a small earpiece mateialized in Bryan's ear.
Eapiece voice: ERROE, all healing tools disabled, and/or malfunctioning. please try your heal again.*BEEP*
The earpiece disappeared, well, I prepared for this at least.
He held his right hand out, and a wristwatch appeared. Bryan pressed a few buttons, then ran his finger across its top .
He pressed another button, then the watch disentigrated, and was replaced by a glove, a shining silver and black glove that was materializing, and growing first past the wrist, then the foream, then the elbow, til it finally stopped at the bottom of his neck.
He stretched his arm out and moved his fingers a bit to get used to it. Though it was nearly impossible to do so, because its always a strange experience having each of your own constantly active cells completely bond with completely active machines of about the same size.
Bryan: I may not be able to heal, but now I can focus more energy into the raw power of the machine, but first.
Just then two metallic tentacles shot fom the back of his new arm, reached aound him, and began picking out the pieces of wood,metal,glass, and whatever else that was in his back that wasn't supposed to be there.
Bryan: I may not be able to repair the skin, but at least I can, uuuUgh, pull them out.
Metal man knew that this was his chance, he got up rushed over to Bryan, and gave him a direct jab to the gut, sending him flying back into a nearby building.
He though that it was done, but when the dust cleared, he saw Bryan was fine, he had put his armored hand right behind himself just in time, and it absorbed the entire impact.
Bryan: Now that wasn't very nice.
Bryan thrusted his right arm forward, and sent a wave filled with the energy of the impact at metal man, but that wasn't enough to push him back, and Bryan knew that, while MM was distracted, Bryan jumped forward and delivered a direct punch to the Metalmans viser, it caused a small crack to appear.
The metal man wasn't too surprised by this, he had seen this type of technology before.
Held his left hand out now, this time in the direction of his sword, causing it to fly into his grasp.
Bryan tossed the sword up into the air, and caught it in his armored arm, and began swishing his left hand through the air in what seemed a completely random manner.
Just then, a flash of light appeared where he was swishing, and then, a claymore appeared, a HUGE sword, in the steriotypical shape of a sword, with a silver blade, and a golden hilt with a single red jewel in the center.
He could barely lift it with his left hand. He quickly tossed his other sword up again, switched the claymore to his other hand, and caught the other in his left.
Just as soon as it entered his hand though, it left, and headed straight for MetalMan.
Bryan also swished his hand twice, and sent two beams of light at Metal man.
Just as expected, he blocked the sword, and the two 'light blades' pretty easily, but what he didn't block was Bryan lunging at him , his sword aimed for MM's head.
The sword hit, stabbed about a half inch deep into MM's visor, not enough to hit him, but enough to get a point across, and enough to make the crack bigger.He quickly pulled the blade out while MetalMan was off blance, and use it to his advantage, he leaned back, then sprung fowward, the sword falling right onto the top right corner of MM's helmet, splitting it.
the helmet fell to the ground , and bryan 'called' his sword back to him, an the claymore disinegrated.
Whatever was to happen, Bryan was ready for it...
OoC: I'm goin ta bed now. G'night. *yawns*
Bryan:Hehehehehe
MetalMan:What!? What's so funny!?
He sat himself up, and looked around for a moment to get his barings, and as his vision came to the general area of the carriage, there he saw Bryan standing with his arms crossed, leaning up against the carriage, pieces of metal and glass still in his half-burned face . And a print over his right pectoral muscle, where the carriage had gone over.
Bryan: HehHAHAHAH! Did you really think that it would be so easy to take me out?
He said as he pulled a small piece of metal from his half blackened face, and tossed it to the ground.
MM: You!? I thought you were f-
Bryan:Finished? Yeah, you would.
MM: Rrr,Dammit you peace of-
Bryan: Ah-ah, we have ladies present, he said as he pointed in the general direction of a group of unidentifiable young women. All of the women jumped back in synchronization as he pointed to them. He simply smiled at them and winked. One of the young women wearing a purple dress fainted on the spot, two of the others catching her. It was pretty much impossible tell if it was his charm, or sheer terror that caused her fainting.
Anyway, Bryan looked back at MetalMan, and then realised that he still had shards of metal ad glass in his face.Not much blood though, he never was an easy bleeder.
He shook his head, and pretty much every piece flew out, the ones that didn't he picked out as he started walking towards MetalMan. The imprints were still there, but still not much blood.
Bryan: You know, I know that the guys up top usually exagerate, but when they said you were ,'extremely dangerous' well that was a flat out LIE! (He never actually received orders from anyone, but he had realised what the metal man had said earlier, and he decided to play along in order to get information)
MM: Ye-
Bryan: ss-aah!, that hurt, He just realised that he still had pieces of who knows what in his back.
Bryan: No problem, I'll just have my nanobots simply heal me....I SAID," I'll simply have my nanobots heal me!'
Just then a small earpiece mateialized in Bryan's ear.
Eapiece voice: ERROE, all healing tools disabled, and/or malfunctioning. please try your heal again.*BEEP*
The earpiece disappeared, well, I prepared for this at least.
He held his right hand out, and a wristwatch appeared. Bryan pressed a few buttons, then ran his finger across its top .
He pressed another button, then the watch disentigrated, and was replaced by a glove, a shining silver and black glove that was materializing, and growing first past the wrist, then the foream, then the elbow, til it finally stopped at the bottom of his neck.
He stretched his arm out and moved his fingers a bit to get used to it. Though it was nearly impossible to do so, because its always a strange experience having each of your own constantly active cells completely bond with completely active machines of about the same size.
Bryan: I may not be able to heal, but now I can focus more energy into the raw power of the machine, but first.
Just then two metallic tentacles shot fom the back of his new arm, reached aound him, and began picking out the pieces of wood,metal,glass, and whatever else that was in his back that wasn't supposed to be there.
Bryan: I may not be able to repair the skin, but at least I can, uuuUgh, pull them out.
Metal man knew that this was his chance, he got up rushed over to Bryan, and gave him a direct jab to the gut, sending him flying back into a nearby building.
He though that it was done, but when the dust cleared, he saw Bryan was fine, he had put his armored hand right behind himself just in time, and it absorbed the entire impact.
Bryan: Now that wasn't very nice.
Bryan thrusted his right arm forward, and sent a wave filled with the energy of the impact at metal man, but that wasn't enough to push him back, and Bryan knew that, while MM was distracted, Bryan jumped forward and delivered a direct punch to the Metalmans viser, it caused a small crack to appear.
The metal man wasn't too surprised by this, he had seen this type of technology before.
Held his left hand out now, this time in the direction of his sword, causing it to fly into his grasp.
Bryan tossed the sword up into the air, and caught it in his armored arm, and began swishing his left hand through the air in what seemed a completely random manner.
Just then, a flash of light appeared where he was swishing, and then, a claymore appeared, a HUGE sword, in the steriotypical shape of a sword, with a silver blade, and a golden hilt with a single red jewel in the center.
He could barely lift it with his left hand. He quickly tossed his other sword up again, switched the claymore to his other hand, and caught the other in his left.
Just as soon as it entered his hand though, it left, and headed straight for MetalMan.
Bryan also swished his hand twice, and sent two beams of light at Metal man.
Just as expected, he blocked the sword, and the two 'light blades' pretty easily, but what he didn't block was Bryan lunging at him , his sword aimed for MM's head.
The sword hit, stabbed about a half inch deep into MM's visor, not enough to hit him, but enough to get a point across, and enough to make the crack bigger.He quickly pulled the blade out while MetalMan was off blance, and use it to his advantage, he leaned back, then sprung fowward, the sword falling right onto the top right corner of MM's helmet, splitting it.
the helmet fell to the ground , and bryan 'called' his sword back to him, an the claymore disinegrated.
Whatever was to happen, Bryan was ready for it...
OoC: I'm goin ta bed now. G'night. *yawns*
-I'm Vgfian
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I REALLY HATE POKEMON!
- Member
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- Location: California, U.S.A
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Naomi made a sprinted jump backward, and gripped her Glock, but not drawing. She intended to wait until he got closer. She was waiting for an opportunity that may not exist, but she thought she could end it quickly if he gave up.Weegee wrote:Woot. Lets get this going, IRHP. I suck at locations so screw it.
------
"AAAHGG! WHY ME? OH GOD HAVE MERCY! AAAHHH!"
The poor man fell backwards onto the floor and backed away into a corner. He was trapped, with no where to go. His pale body grew stiff, then twisted and jerked around on the floor. His nose began to grow large and bulbous. His clothes changed into a forest green with a pair of blue overalls. The last thing he saw was the large blue eyes of Weegee.
Weegee exited out of the back door of the house where he just was. He hadn't fully taken the man's body, so he left it there, half transformed, to rot. He turned down an alley of a dark, quiet british town. The town was normally bustling and loud, but the screams of the poor man pierced the sky and quieted the town. Then knew Weegee had struck again. Someone had to stop him.
The next night...
A woman was kneeling down besides the body of the man I talked about earlier. She had black hair and a sad looking face. She stood up and shook her head.
"This is the eighth time this happened here... this is too much." she sighed.
Her name was Naomi. She was sent from Tokyo to England for use of her excellent detective skills. The case of people showing up dead in their house wearing overalls and having large eyes was showing up alot recently, and she was one of the many detectives sent to find out what the hell was going on.
Naomi bit her lip. "I'm gonna go look around outside." A police officer near by nodded his head and she left the gouse. There was yello police tape all around. It was late, and most people were asleep. The townsfolk were told that it was smart to be asleep, because their eyes won't be open. She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy and a bit foggy.
The sound of a snapped twig made her eyes look back down. She glanced around and saw someone standing there in the shadows. Her eyes widened in fright when she realized who it was.
"Show me your hands! Now! And get on the ground!"
No answer. Just a still figure.
"You're going to make me shoot! Get down!"
The being went to make a move, and in but an instant the Glock was aimed and ready. After a moment of silence and disobedience displayed by the perp, she fired three times toward the upper torso. It fell down, and she lowered her weapon and began to approach.
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X-3
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And here we go!
The blues orbs descended upon their target, like an eagle to a weak blue robot. The small man with the big hat tried to run, but it was no use: his running speed could be considered pathetic compared to the speed at which Amrick's orb assault attacked at. The dark night was illuminated by blue...
Amrick stood, blinking. He was almost surprised that his target was taken out so quickly. He nodded to himself, confident of success.
"Ahahaha! Don't leave just yet!" a voice cried out, disrupting a newly silenced night. "I, the Blue Toad, am not so easily taken care of!" the short man with the big hat stood, his hands pressed on his hips. Amrick rose an eyebrow, ready to call shenanigans on someone surviving such an attack. This "Blue Toad" seemed still healthy, save many scratches. Then he noticed one little detail: Blue Toad had grown significantly shorter.
"This is horrible." Amrick muttered, slight dread laced in his voice.
"...uh? I can't understand you. But you sound like you're speaking...Koopa!" the short Blue Toad shouted in response, before hopping up and down. "Thus, you must be my enemy!"
The short man drew a yellow glowing blade. Etched on it's surface were ancient writings: if one were to translate it's strange letters, they would discover that this sword had been crafted by masters smiths, blessed by kings, kissed by virgins and possibly displayed during a prince's Show and Tell. The sword's very aura made the Blue Toad seem like a deadly swordsman who could destroy cities with a single stab.
"Farewell, Koopa-sympathizer..." the Blue Toad vanished, like Amrick had been hoping he would have done after being attacked. He reappeared behind the silver-haired man...but with his back turned. "Uh...hold on a second." He vanished again, and reappeared where he stood before. With a swipe of his word, a golden wave shot forward, and crashed into Amrick. The young man grunted a bit, as he felt the wind get knocked out of him. He was more annoyed by the Blue Toad's wasting of precious time.
Blue Toad stood, a wide smile on his face. His glowing blade hummed quietly, reminding Amrick of a mosquito.
The blues orbs descended upon their target, like an eagle to a weak blue robot. The small man with the big hat tried to run, but it was no use: his running speed could be considered pathetic compared to the speed at which Amrick's orb assault attacked at. The dark night was illuminated by blue...
Amrick stood, blinking. He was almost surprised that his target was taken out so quickly. He nodded to himself, confident of success.
"Ahahaha! Don't leave just yet!" a voice cried out, disrupting a newly silenced night. "I, the Blue Toad, am not so easily taken care of!" the short man with the big hat stood, his hands pressed on his hips. Amrick rose an eyebrow, ready to call shenanigans on someone surviving such an attack. This "Blue Toad" seemed still healthy, save many scratches. Then he noticed one little detail: Blue Toad had grown significantly shorter.
"This is horrible." Amrick muttered, slight dread laced in his voice.
"...uh? I can't understand you. But you sound like you're speaking...Koopa!" the short Blue Toad shouted in response, before hopping up and down. "Thus, you must be my enemy!"
The short man drew a yellow glowing blade. Etched on it's surface were ancient writings: if one were to translate it's strange letters, they would discover that this sword had been crafted by masters smiths, blessed by kings, kissed by virgins and possibly displayed during a prince's Show and Tell. The sword's very aura made the Blue Toad seem like a deadly swordsman who could destroy cities with a single stab.
"Farewell, Koopa-sympathizer..." the Blue Toad vanished, like Amrick had been hoping he would have done after being attacked. He reappeared behind the silver-haired man...but with his back turned. "Uh...hold on a second." He vanished again, and reappeared where he stood before. With a swipe of his word, a golden wave shot forward, and crashed into Amrick. The young man grunted a bit, as he felt the wind get knocked out of him. He was more annoyed by the Blue Toad's wasting of precious time.
Blue Toad stood, a wide smile on his face. His glowing blade hummed quietly, reminding Amrick of a mosquito.
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chibimod3
- Member
- Posts: 499
- Joined: Tue Jan 02, 2007 4:14 pm
- Location: Lurking and forgetting to post.
Well the thing was walking towards him...no it wasn't right to call it a thing. He was sure it is a humanoid or was. The pulsing of the electricity through the body. Yes he sensed it many times. Somehow it seems different though. There was time to wait for that answer. He sits in the clearing in his most meditative pose. He soon enters into deep thought. Thinking whilst sending out his Serpent's Eye.
What purpose could anyone have out here? It couldn't be mere coincidence that they were moving towards each other. He must know where he was...but how would he? Is he a seer? Or maybe a keen sense of smell? There was no way to be certain of this man's methods or reasons for being here. It was not like he could just sit here and wonder about them until he got here. Preparations would have to be made immediately. He gets up and releases a small portion of the Pulsing Wave. He would not need a full sixty feet if the battle ensued but it would bring his power to the enemies attention. He spoke in a booming voice the simple words that were always brought to his mind when he uses this ability. "Pulsing Wave!" It was loud and probably not necessary but it always helped him to focus. The enemy could probably hear it but it was not important now. He was doing this to scare him off. Yet somehow he knew it wouldn't work. This man was strong willed and wouldn't be intimidated this easily.
As the energy cone that engulfed him and his surroundings dissipated to reveal a thirty foot radius of blackened earth and trees that had been charred and burned to uneven stumps. He went a little overboard, but it couldn't be helped. This would serve as a nice first battle. He would start here and lead him into the village. Not to trick but to simply show the man what he was capable of. Sure it was empty when he traveled to this desolate wasteland yet all the lightning was his doing. And if the man was a hunter he will show no mercy and cut him down where he stands.
He almost forgot how close the man was when he senses him closing in on this position. He walks to the other side of the clearing and awaits his opponents arrival. And when the man was near enough to hear him he calmly states, "What business do you have in this part of the mountain. Didn't you hear there happens to be a demon that inhabits these parts." At the last sentence he lets a noticeably large amount of sparks into the air from his fingertips. "Better run before he gets you." Smirking to the empty clearing.
What purpose could anyone have out here? It couldn't be mere coincidence that they were moving towards each other. He must know where he was...but how would he? Is he a seer? Or maybe a keen sense of smell? There was no way to be certain of this man's methods or reasons for being here. It was not like he could just sit here and wonder about them until he got here. Preparations would have to be made immediately. He gets up and releases a small portion of the Pulsing Wave. He would not need a full sixty feet if the battle ensued but it would bring his power to the enemies attention. He spoke in a booming voice the simple words that were always brought to his mind when he uses this ability. "Pulsing Wave!" It was loud and probably not necessary but it always helped him to focus. The enemy could probably hear it but it was not important now. He was doing this to scare him off. Yet somehow he knew it wouldn't work. This man was strong willed and wouldn't be intimidated this easily.
As the energy cone that engulfed him and his surroundings dissipated to reveal a thirty foot radius of blackened earth and trees that had been charred and burned to uneven stumps. He went a little overboard, but it couldn't be helped. This would serve as a nice first battle. He would start here and lead him into the village. Not to trick but to simply show the man what he was capable of. Sure it was empty when he traveled to this desolate wasteland yet all the lightning was his doing. And if the man was a hunter he will show no mercy and cut him down where he stands.
He almost forgot how close the man was when he senses him closing in on this position. He walks to the other side of the clearing and awaits his opponents arrival. And when the man was near enough to hear him he calmly states, "What business do you have in this part of the mountain. Didn't you hear there happens to be a demon that inhabits these parts." At the last sentence he lets a noticeably large amount of sparks into the air from his fingertips. "Better run before he gets you." Smirking to the empty clearing.
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Metal Man
- Member
- Posts: 17964
- Joined: Sun Apr 23, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
- Contact:
Sitting in the Edwardian street in a ludicrous sitting-ish position, the Metal Man stared forward at his foe, who was wielding a variety of swords. A crack which now neatly split his visor into two halves could be seen, but defying the expectations of the cocky swordsman, the helmet did not fall off, as Metal Man stood up, filled with new dents and gashes, and still leaking some fluid, but... like a dead body which kept moving, his behavior was disconnected from his physical reality.
A man enraged, he got into a predictable pose--he was going to smash the annoying Bryan with his alloy fists. He took a step forward; Bryan braced. The crowd gasped. ...And then he stopped and stood up straight and began chuckling.
"Hahahahaha... I didn't expect my warmup kill you. Just make you stupidly reveal your strengths and weaknesses so I could actually kill you. Thanks." His voice projecting chip crackled oddly as his split helmet shot sparks.
A slight wind blew by, blowing the stench of flames and smashed objects away. Then, the Coachman shook his head. "Who cares what ace you have on your sleeve, you're a god-damned idiot! Look, that weird man just removed all his injuries, and you're coloring the pavement red with your own idiocy!"
Metal Man's demanor had changed suddenly. Instead of reacting with a fiery remark, he merely scoffed. "You're either alive or dead. One or Zero. I am greater than zero. Figure out the rest, silly person." He then strode towards Bryan, who did not believe what Metal Man had said.
Bryan instead had his nanites all lined up. And his swords. Yeah. He imagined how he would carve this bozo up like a turkey, split him into a billion pieces. He got his sword ready to stab the idiot in the armor with.
The man in the armor stopped half way, however, pausing to pick up a fragment of Victorian rubble... no, it was a fragment of metal. He bent the little piece of metal, probably taken off a coach. It made a very strange, soft bending noise, as he then violently jammed it into the chin of his ailing helmet. The smell of ozone was everywhere as the helmet smoked and Metal Man grunted in pain.
Bryan stared at the ludicrous scene unfolding before him. "What the hell do you think that will do? Slowly smoke me to death? You can't seem to do anything but underestimate me!"
Metal Man straightened, and spoke...
"SURE, I'LL KEEP DOING IT."
...the loudness was hideous, a metallic screech which sent the Victorian people for shelter. As the Victorian crowd jammed their hands in their ears, Metal stared at Bryan and cleared his throat. "THIS SONG IS FOR YOU, BRYAN!"
Suddenly, hideous music from the past growled onto Metal's voice projector, and his foe realized what he was hearing... but it was too late. He braced for the most painful experience of his life, covering his ears and trying to find a place where the infamous backing track would go away.
But as he looked to leap behind a carriage (or perhaps through it), Metal Man began his most feared, deadly, violent attack--... ...singing? And here it was... the most feared song of all time.... ...'Emotions' by Mariah Carey????
o/` YOU'vE GOAAT mEEEEH FEEELIEEEEENG EMOOOO TRAIAIIIIIIAIAINSSSSS!!!
D-D-D-EPP HAIR THAN I'VE EVER SCREAAAAAHHHHHHHMED OOF!
You-You-'VAH GAAAhT mE VEEELING EMoooTIAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNS HighER tHathAN THE HEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-- YEAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII `\o
The voice unit exploded. The nearby windows exploded. Some foolish people who thought they could hear the song without plugging their ears' eardrum's exploded. But most importantly: Metal Man's hideous screech continued, until it became nearly imperceptible... ...the range of SONAR. Many people breathed a sigh of relief. But for Bryan, this song was going to be much worse than the potentially permanent hearing loss it caused.
The sound waves, as they became closer and closer together, neared the resonant frequency of the nanites in his body. Having boasted so incleverly of them to Metal Man, Bryan had basically advertised to Metal Man that any jerk with a large amplifier and some high frequency notes could... well...
It began with the feeling of his very skin boiling, and got worse from there, as those ever-so-helpful nanites were driven insane by the sounds causing them to vibrate ten times the amount their limit was. One by one, they began exploding; and the once strong warrior would soon feel his flesh gruesomely being hit by these mini-explosions. The others stared in shock as he was thrown to his knees by nanites, and tiny holes appeared all over his body, causing him to leak blood like a sieve. Death by a million pinpricks it would be--except...
Moments before the nanites were completely ripped apart, and what would probably destroy Bryan, Metal Man's voice projector exploded. The pinpricks lessened, and when it was all over, Bryan stared at his skin, astonished--the incredible pain, the hallucination of bleeding to death... ...only a fraction of it was true. Blood leaked from several joints, and he certainly felt horrible, especially without most of his nanites to do his whims, but that personal hell had been worse than the physical.
He looked up to the man whom he had mocked moments over. The Metal Man, who stared at him with the dead eyes of a serial killer. This was no joke... this was serious. And if he made another slip like that... perhaps the nightmare would become reality, and his life replaced by everlasting torture.
The Victorian watchers (And their watches) returned, although now much more afraid--and the policeman continued his argument with a nearby woman as Metal Man creeped towards the stunned Bryan.
"Why don't you deal with him!" She pointed at the man of steel and the terror he and his foe had caused. "They're all nuts! Lock 'em up!"
The fat policeman shook his head, lifting to her his bent baton. "What, with this? Are you out of your bloody mind, lady! Those people... they're like the aliens from War of the Worlds! Nobody can stop 'em!"
"I'm too impatient to wait for disease to kill them! If you can't do that... get the King's men!"
"WHAT? No... I... uhhh... er..." He stuttered, realizing this was the most sensible thing to do after all. "...Fine! But if it's a false alarm, I'll tell them the truth!"
The woman crossed her arms. "What, that you're a slow-thinking lunk whose mistake got all our windows blown out by a screaming lunatic?"
The policeman's face turned a grand red of shade as he ran off, blowing his whistle, so as to get help. Not that Metal Man's attack hadn't already alerted everyone, living or dead, that he was there.
The man of steel walked slowly towards 'Bryan', whom got up, his belief unchanged by the experience. Bryan merely readied his sword. "Even that won't beat me. What, they called you deadly? You're just noisy!"
Metal Man shook his helmet and reached for the loud young man's throat; but his arm encountered an obstacle on the way; the sword of Bryan stabbed right through it, and like a mocking offering, kept on going just short of Metal's visor, red blood and lubricant fluid dripping down.
Bryan shook his head. "Really... you should give it up. I will not be beaten by party favors." The sword still stuck through Metal Man's arm, he knocked it further in, and smacked the helmet. The visor finally broke through, revealing Metal Man's livid blue marbles of eyes he had.
The two radii of blue crystal stared at Bryan and distracted him for a moment. They just seemed so... cold...
The teeth of Metal Man clenched like an iron gate, nd in an instant the man yelled a guttural death scream. Bryan moved to remove the sword from Metal Man's arm, but it was too late--Metal Man lunged forward and BIT the sword. Then, to the horror of Bryan, the bizarre cyborg's teeth were apparently mightier than the words that passed beyond them--for with a sickening REEEP sound, that man bit a piece out of Bryan's sword.
Metal Man then kicked Bryan back like an insolent sixth grader, sitting him down on the curb, with only a potential bruise and Metal Man boot mark on his knee. The sword hung grotesquely, reddened by blood and lubricant, as Metal Man yanked it free, proudly displaying the bite hole in the blade.
"This... this is a true masterpiece. Not your nanobots... not your super powers... not even your carbon-copy, poor waste for a personality. THIS... this sword was nothing... but now I have made it... ssssomething." His teeth glistened, reddened with his own blood.
Bryan moved to get up, his mind only now registering What the hell, this guy's a psychopath! He went to magically retrieve his sword, but when he looked up, instead of the nice stationary Metal Man there had been a moment ago, there was a sewer access cover flying at him. He ducked, narrowly missing the dental re-do he had never asked for. The sword and Metal Man had moved near a nice pointy fence. As if to mock Bryan, Metal Man had stuck the sword in the ground and began talking to it.
"So Mr. Sword, how do you like it being second place to nanites?""Oh I hate it Mr. Meeetal Man! It's awful! Every time he does something, I only get to taste flesh AFTER those little nanites do all the job! I just wish--"
Bryan had had enough of this man's games. "Shut up and die already, you can't defeat me with a nursery rhyme." He picked up his sword, which, in the meantime, had somehow gotten a very weird face drawn on it. Metal Man looked at Bryan, clutching a magic marker from the future.
"And who died and put you in charge?"
"..." Bryan swung his sword this time, not wanting to hear more nonsense. He stabbed for the visor--a bit higher this time, out of fear those teeth might just eat the point of his sword next. *CLANG!* He hit, giving Metal Man a nice cut. But then suddenly, his right foot was kicked out from under him.
There to catch his fall was some nice spiked metal fence posts, one which buried itself in his back. Metal Man made for a brutal backhand at Bryan, who expertly deflected it with his sword.
And was then knocked spinning down the fence, such that each little spike got a chance to perforate his back some more. If that wasn't bad enough, a Doctor with a full case of glass-jarred quackery medications had been expertly lined up. Metal Man played a crackly bowling noise with what was left of his voice projector as Bryan crashed into the Doctor, getting more glass bits stuck into him. And also an old-timey Quack Doctor, covered in his blood.
Metal Man walked over and then idly adjusted his helmet. "C'mon, insult me again. I need to know your next superpower, or else I won't be able to defeat you. Only humiliate you. And I hate that. It's like a cliffhanger endi--" *SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK* Several arrows stabbed him in the arm. He frowned and turned his head--and there were the King's men. One of them called out to Metal Man.
"What are you... ...surrender!"
Metal Man ripped an arrow out and chucked it with lethal speed at the man, stabbing him in the shin for decidedly nonlethal damage. "I am METAL MAN! GO AWAY!"
"We will not!"
"DANG IT!"
Metal Man shook his fist at them, leaving Bryan a great opportunity to stab him in the back. Meanwhile, the Coachman chuckled creepily as he snuck behind the guardsmen... ...lifting one of his leather-gloved hands towards their prominently displayed crossbows, the shiny new metal smell being irresistable to his horseflesh-touching fingers.
A man enraged, he got into a predictable pose--he was going to smash the annoying Bryan with his alloy fists. He took a step forward; Bryan braced. The crowd gasped. ...And then he stopped and stood up straight and began chuckling.
"Hahahahaha... I didn't expect my warmup kill you. Just make you stupidly reveal your strengths and weaknesses so I could actually kill you. Thanks." His voice projecting chip crackled oddly as his split helmet shot sparks.
A slight wind blew by, blowing the stench of flames and smashed objects away. Then, the Coachman shook his head. "Who cares what ace you have on your sleeve, you're a god-damned idiot! Look, that weird man just removed all his injuries, and you're coloring the pavement red with your own idiocy!"
Metal Man's demanor had changed suddenly. Instead of reacting with a fiery remark, he merely scoffed. "You're either alive or dead. One or Zero. I am greater than zero. Figure out the rest, silly person." He then strode towards Bryan, who did not believe what Metal Man had said.
Bryan instead had his nanites all lined up. And his swords. Yeah. He imagined how he would carve this bozo up like a turkey, split him into a billion pieces. He got his sword ready to stab the idiot in the armor with.
The man in the armor stopped half way, however, pausing to pick up a fragment of Victorian rubble... no, it was a fragment of metal. He bent the little piece of metal, probably taken off a coach. It made a very strange, soft bending noise, as he then violently jammed it into the chin of his ailing helmet. The smell of ozone was everywhere as the helmet smoked and Metal Man grunted in pain.
Bryan stared at the ludicrous scene unfolding before him. "What the hell do you think that will do? Slowly smoke me to death? You can't seem to do anything but underestimate me!"
Metal Man straightened, and spoke...
"SURE, I'LL KEEP DOING IT."
...the loudness was hideous, a metallic screech which sent the Victorian people for shelter. As the Victorian crowd jammed their hands in their ears, Metal stared at Bryan and cleared his throat. "THIS SONG IS FOR YOU, BRYAN!"
Suddenly, hideous music from the past growled onto Metal's voice projector, and his foe realized what he was hearing... but it was too late. He braced for the most painful experience of his life, covering his ears and trying to find a place where the infamous backing track would go away.
But as he looked to leap behind a carriage (or perhaps through it), Metal Man began his most feared, deadly, violent attack--... ...singing? And here it was... the most feared song of all time.... ...'Emotions' by Mariah Carey????
o/` YOU'vE GOAAT mEEEEH FEEELIEEEEENG EMOOOO TRAIAIIIIIIAIAINSSSSS!!!
D-D-D-EPP HAIR THAN I'VE EVER SCREAAAAAHHHHHHHMED OOF!
You-You-'VAH GAAAhT mE VEEELING EMoooTIAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNS HighER tHathAN THE HEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-- YEAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII `\o
The voice unit exploded. The nearby windows exploded. Some foolish people who thought they could hear the song without plugging their ears' eardrum's exploded. But most importantly: Metal Man's hideous screech continued, until it became nearly imperceptible... ...the range of SONAR. Many people breathed a sigh of relief. But for Bryan, this song was going to be much worse than the potentially permanent hearing loss it caused.
The sound waves, as they became closer and closer together, neared the resonant frequency of the nanites in his body. Having boasted so incleverly of them to Metal Man, Bryan had basically advertised to Metal Man that any jerk with a large amplifier and some high frequency notes could... well...
It began with the feeling of his very skin boiling, and got worse from there, as those ever-so-helpful nanites were driven insane by the sounds causing them to vibrate ten times the amount their limit was. One by one, they began exploding; and the once strong warrior would soon feel his flesh gruesomely being hit by these mini-explosions. The others stared in shock as he was thrown to his knees by nanites, and tiny holes appeared all over his body, causing him to leak blood like a sieve. Death by a million pinpricks it would be--except...
Moments before the nanites were completely ripped apart, and what would probably destroy Bryan, Metal Man's voice projector exploded. The pinpricks lessened, and when it was all over, Bryan stared at his skin, astonished--the incredible pain, the hallucination of bleeding to death... ...only a fraction of it was true. Blood leaked from several joints, and he certainly felt horrible, especially without most of his nanites to do his whims, but that personal hell had been worse than the physical.
He looked up to the man whom he had mocked moments over. The Metal Man, who stared at him with the dead eyes of a serial killer. This was no joke... this was serious. And if he made another slip like that... perhaps the nightmare would become reality, and his life replaced by everlasting torture.
The Victorian watchers (And their watches) returned, although now much more afraid--and the policeman continued his argument with a nearby woman as Metal Man creeped towards the stunned Bryan.
"Why don't you deal with him!" She pointed at the man of steel and the terror he and his foe had caused. "They're all nuts! Lock 'em up!"
The fat policeman shook his head, lifting to her his bent baton. "What, with this? Are you out of your bloody mind, lady! Those people... they're like the aliens from War of the Worlds! Nobody can stop 'em!"
"I'm too impatient to wait for disease to kill them! If you can't do that... get the King's men!"
"WHAT? No... I... uhhh... er..." He stuttered, realizing this was the most sensible thing to do after all. "...Fine! But if it's a false alarm, I'll tell them the truth!"
The woman crossed her arms. "What, that you're a slow-thinking lunk whose mistake got all our windows blown out by a screaming lunatic?"
The policeman's face turned a grand red of shade as he ran off, blowing his whistle, so as to get help. Not that Metal Man's attack hadn't already alerted everyone, living or dead, that he was there.
The man of steel walked slowly towards 'Bryan', whom got up, his belief unchanged by the experience. Bryan merely readied his sword. "Even that won't beat me. What, they called you deadly? You're just noisy!"
Metal Man shook his helmet and reached for the loud young man's throat; but his arm encountered an obstacle on the way; the sword of Bryan stabbed right through it, and like a mocking offering, kept on going just short of Metal's visor, red blood and lubricant fluid dripping down.
Bryan shook his head. "Really... you should give it up. I will not be beaten by party favors." The sword still stuck through Metal Man's arm, he knocked it further in, and smacked the helmet. The visor finally broke through, revealing Metal Man's livid blue marbles of eyes he had.
The two radii of blue crystal stared at Bryan and distracted him for a moment. They just seemed so... cold...
The teeth of Metal Man clenched like an iron gate, nd in an instant the man yelled a guttural death scream. Bryan moved to remove the sword from Metal Man's arm, but it was too late--Metal Man lunged forward and BIT the sword. Then, to the horror of Bryan, the bizarre cyborg's teeth were apparently mightier than the words that passed beyond them--for with a sickening REEEP sound, that man bit a piece out of Bryan's sword.
Metal Man then kicked Bryan back like an insolent sixth grader, sitting him down on the curb, with only a potential bruise and Metal Man boot mark on his knee. The sword hung grotesquely, reddened by blood and lubricant, as Metal Man yanked it free, proudly displaying the bite hole in the blade.
"This... this is a true masterpiece. Not your nanobots... not your super powers... not even your carbon-copy, poor waste for a personality. THIS... this sword was nothing... but now I have made it... ssssomething." His teeth glistened, reddened with his own blood.
Bryan moved to get up, his mind only now registering What the hell, this guy's a psychopath! He went to magically retrieve his sword, but when he looked up, instead of the nice stationary Metal Man there had been a moment ago, there was a sewer access cover flying at him. He ducked, narrowly missing the dental re-do he had never asked for. The sword and Metal Man had moved near a nice pointy fence. As if to mock Bryan, Metal Man had stuck the sword in the ground and began talking to it.
"So Mr. Sword, how do you like it being second place to nanites?""Oh I hate it Mr. Meeetal Man! It's awful! Every time he does something, I only get to taste flesh AFTER those little nanites do all the job! I just wish--"
Bryan had had enough of this man's games. "Shut up and die already, you can't defeat me with a nursery rhyme." He picked up his sword, which, in the meantime, had somehow gotten a very weird face drawn on it. Metal Man looked at Bryan, clutching a magic marker from the future.
"And who died and put you in charge?"
"..." Bryan swung his sword this time, not wanting to hear more nonsense. He stabbed for the visor--a bit higher this time, out of fear those teeth might just eat the point of his sword next. *CLANG!* He hit, giving Metal Man a nice cut. But then suddenly, his right foot was kicked out from under him.
There to catch his fall was some nice spiked metal fence posts, one which buried itself in his back. Metal Man made for a brutal backhand at Bryan, who expertly deflected it with his sword.
And was then knocked spinning down the fence, such that each little spike got a chance to perforate his back some more. If that wasn't bad enough, a Doctor with a full case of glass-jarred quackery medications had been expertly lined up. Metal Man played a crackly bowling noise with what was left of his voice projector as Bryan crashed into the Doctor, getting more glass bits stuck into him. And also an old-timey Quack Doctor, covered in his blood.
Metal Man walked over and then idly adjusted his helmet. "C'mon, insult me again. I need to know your next superpower, or else I won't be able to defeat you. Only humiliate you. And I hate that. It's like a cliffhanger endi--" *SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK* Several arrows stabbed him in the arm. He frowned and turned his head--and there were the King's men. One of them called out to Metal Man.
"What are you... ...surrender!"
Metal Man ripped an arrow out and chucked it with lethal speed at the man, stabbing him in the shin for decidedly nonlethal damage. "I am METAL MAN! GO AWAY!"
"We will not!"
"DANG IT!"
Metal Man shook his fist at them, leaving Bryan a great opportunity to stab him in the back. Meanwhile, the Coachman chuckled creepily as he snuck behind the guardsmen... ...lifting one of his leather-gloved hands towards their prominently displayed crossbows, the shiny new metal smell being irresistable to his horseflesh-touching fingers.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Repster3
- Member
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Thu May 28, 2009 3:51 pm
- Location: Acadia. Don't bother, it's not on the map.
He walked forward, dingy white robes press against him by the harsh wind. Behind lay death. Beasts, heroes, champions, abomination, and aspects of the gods themselves. All fell without fail. More would come, in one shape or another, for whatever reason. It was a simple fact of life, Fate wanted this man dead. Aidan Dreiks however had a nasty habit of not dying. The scar the divided him in twain was a perfect example of that. from the top of his left eye, down and underneath his right ribcage, around the back, across the spine, up the back of the head and back where it started. A perfect clean unbroken line. His blue eye was discolored where that line passed, no matter which way the eye looked the scar did not move. Much the same for the grey strands in his hair.
The wind picked up, and the was a glimmer of amusement in his golden right eye. So, even the wind was against him today. His hand, grasped the flask at his right hip, and he took swig. There was a sense of age to this man. He looked to be in his early thirties, yet there were signs of far greater age. His hands with it's long fingers twisted like old roots. The ever so slight wrinkling adn discoloration of skin everywhere it was exposed. His once powerful musculature now layered with thin fat. This dull red haired, five foot six. shoeless man was not what one expected to have death itself sharpening it's scyth just waiting for the right moment to take him.
Bare feet digging into the sand he kept walking. The mass of silk that was his trousers flapping behind was as much of an indicator as anything else. There was a storm brewing in this wasteland, bare for as far as the eye could see. Best to move on so the wind would not pick up one the the fallen behind him, and toss it at him. some of the were quite heavy. He smirked at that thought. Fate manipulating everything to end him, having fulfilled his destiny and going against it by continuing to live, and he was more worried with the possibility of getting hit in the head by a corpse. He laughed at that, laughter seeped with madness, as he moved forward.
The wind picked up, and the was a glimmer of amusement in his golden right eye. So, even the wind was against him today. His hand, grasped the flask at his right hip, and he took swig. There was a sense of age to this man. He looked to be in his early thirties, yet there were signs of far greater age. His hands with it's long fingers twisted like old roots. The ever so slight wrinkling adn discoloration of skin everywhere it was exposed. His once powerful musculature now layered with thin fat. This dull red haired, five foot six. shoeless man was not what one expected to have death itself sharpening it's scyth just waiting for the right moment to take him.
Bare feet digging into the sand he kept walking. The mass of silk that was his trousers flapping behind was as much of an indicator as anything else. There was a storm brewing in this wasteland, bare for as far as the eye could see. Best to move on so the wind would not pick up one the the fallen behind him, and toss it at him. some of the were quite heavy. He smirked at that thought. Fate manipulating everything to end him, having fulfilled his destiny and going against it by continuing to live, and he was more worried with the possibility of getting hit in the head by a corpse. He laughed at that, laughter seeped with madness, as he moved forward.
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Vapor
- Member
- Posts: 5156
- Joined: Tue Oct 25, 2005 1:00 am
- Location: WHERE IT'S AT
- Contact:
The Town was burning. Flaming hell was everywhere.
Timber supports flared and burned to ash. Thatched roofs blazed brightly and tumbled down in fireballs of hay. The cattle ran madly, fleeing one inferno only to run into another blazing structure. The townfolks were also fleeing madly, a few attempting to quench the fires, some simply insane, and many simply trying to get out of the town.
The nearby surrounding forest stood still, silent. Within it, still, silent, perched a very tall figure on a high branch. Its spindly legs, covered in rough burlap, dangled off the branch, and he held on to the tree's trunk with his similarly spindly arm covered in a rough, dark green fabric. He held a very long scythe in his other arm and had a wide brimmed straw hat. In fact, without the scythe, he would look akin to a child sitting in a limb of an apple tree on a warm summer's day. He would also look like one if he didn't wear such a malicious face. A wide jagged grin spread across his head, with two narrow triangular eyes slanted downward. A bright candle flame projected light out of these. This would not be possible on a human face. However, the being feeling this dark mischief was not human in the slightest. It was a scarecrow, a jack o' lantern for his head, and a stuffing of a rough fiber for his flesh. He was called Ven.
Ven loved arson. He loved to watch the world burn and know that he did it, to cause some chaos and watch everyone go crazy. In fact, he really liked everything that burned. Maybe it was because of his own fire. Yeah, probably. He couldn't contain all of the grand fire burning within his soul.
He sat there for a long while. By then, the entire village had either burnt to ash and cinders or some of the men had taken some water from the river to stop some blazes. Either way, the town was destroyed. Giving out a chuckle, which turned into a low cackle, Ven considered his job done and left.
The branches barely trembled at his weight as he leaped effortlessly from one to the other. He left a strand or two of white fiber, asbestos actually, on each piece of bark he touched. He traveled like this for most likely a few miles or so, giggling malevolently all the way, until he reached the forest's edge. He jumped off of a limb and landed on his feet and one hand on the ground. When he looked up, his expression changed to one of slight surprise.
He was looking at a farm. This farm, too was burnt. By Ven's actions, of course. But this farm had significance. This farm he remembered. This was his farm. The one where he was first constructed as a mere tool to guard corn. A shiver ran down his wicker spine. Brushing it off, Ven strode into the field. His true, monstrous height was revealed by his loping gait.
A while earlier, a stranger had told Ven to meet him here for what was promised to be an incredible fight. Considering the concept tantalizing, he agreed.
"HEY! HEY. HEYYYY. I'M HERE." He yelled with a voice like the sound of both rustling leaves and a bonfire and the temperament and tone of a trailer park inhabitant demanding some more chips from his wife in the kitchen. "YOU HERE YET?...FINE." Ven adjusted his loose leather belt containing his pitchfork and crowbar, readied his scythe and waited.
Timber supports flared and burned to ash. Thatched roofs blazed brightly and tumbled down in fireballs of hay. The cattle ran madly, fleeing one inferno only to run into another blazing structure. The townfolks were also fleeing madly, a few attempting to quench the fires, some simply insane, and many simply trying to get out of the town.
The nearby surrounding forest stood still, silent. Within it, still, silent, perched a very tall figure on a high branch. Its spindly legs, covered in rough burlap, dangled off the branch, and he held on to the tree's trunk with his similarly spindly arm covered in a rough, dark green fabric. He held a very long scythe in his other arm and had a wide brimmed straw hat. In fact, without the scythe, he would look akin to a child sitting in a limb of an apple tree on a warm summer's day. He would also look like one if he didn't wear such a malicious face. A wide jagged grin spread across his head, with two narrow triangular eyes slanted downward. A bright candle flame projected light out of these. This would not be possible on a human face. However, the being feeling this dark mischief was not human in the slightest. It was a scarecrow, a jack o' lantern for his head, and a stuffing of a rough fiber for his flesh. He was called Ven.
Ven loved arson. He loved to watch the world burn and know that he did it, to cause some chaos and watch everyone go crazy. In fact, he really liked everything that burned. Maybe it was because of his own fire. Yeah, probably. He couldn't contain all of the grand fire burning within his soul.
He sat there for a long while. By then, the entire village had either burnt to ash and cinders or some of the men had taken some water from the river to stop some blazes. Either way, the town was destroyed. Giving out a chuckle, which turned into a low cackle, Ven considered his job done and left.
The branches barely trembled at his weight as he leaped effortlessly from one to the other. He left a strand or two of white fiber, asbestos actually, on each piece of bark he touched. He traveled like this for most likely a few miles or so, giggling malevolently all the way, until he reached the forest's edge. He jumped off of a limb and landed on his feet and one hand on the ground. When he looked up, his expression changed to one of slight surprise.
He was looking at a farm. This farm, too was burnt. By Ven's actions, of course. But this farm had significance. This farm he remembered. This was his farm. The one where he was first constructed as a mere tool to guard corn. A shiver ran down his wicker spine. Brushing it off, Ven strode into the field. His true, monstrous height was revealed by his loping gait.
A while earlier, a stranger had told Ven to meet him here for what was promised to be an incredible fight. Considering the concept tantalizing, he agreed.
"HEY! HEY. HEYYYY. I'M HERE." He yelled with a voice like the sound of both rustling leaves and a bonfire and the temperament and tone of a trailer park inhabitant demanding some more chips from his wife in the kitchen. "YOU HERE YET?...FINE." Ven adjusted his loose leather belt containing his pitchfork and crowbar, readied his scythe and waited.
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Galefore
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