Greetings, most distinguished population of the Gunjin board! If you believe you're not worthy of being called 'distinguished', let me virtually whack you first. I admit it has been way too long since my first, uh, 'incursion' within these boards, and while several events happened within that absurdly long inactive time frame of mine, I today visit to ask but one favor of you peoples.
Such that long time ago I'm talking about, certain members of this board visited my own native board [for which I will not advertise unless requested], and mixed relationships were made. Good times and differences arose all the same for both sides, but the simple truth is that, for the longest time, I keep finding myself fascinated by the singular style of these boards: the fluent written English, the bloody battles, those deliciously entertaining walls of text... I could go on and on pointing out every little thing [the originality and thought behind characters, for example], but I'm guessing that you already know what I'm talking about.
I have enlisted in the Armed Forces [due to events I can explain if you're curious], so I have a September 23rd deadline in my posting. Before that date comes [well, preferably a day or three earlier], I would like to butt heads with someone on these boards. I would call the more famous names I remember such as Selene, Repster, Wyborn, Erdawn, Metal Man, or Gale [again, those are the ones that first come to my mind], I promise you that, whoever my opponent would be, I promise to give you a battle worthy of your attention and effort. And of course, then fun that comes with battle RPing itself, a joy I've hardly enjoyed lately.
I will be using a new creation of mine I've spent some time preparing, or perhaps I will use one of the older players in my small roster, I'm still not sure... I just gotta ask now: any takers? ^^
'scuse me, coming through~
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Trickster-kun
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Metal Man
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Trickster-kun
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- Posts: 105
- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2007 8:30 pm
- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
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OOC: [Excellent! Thanks for accepting my offer-- I humbly hope that I won't disappoint you. Then again, some aspects of this board are still pretty unknown to me, so if I, uh, do anything out of place, you can scold me as you will. <<']
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Step. Step. Step.
The unnamed city was once a sprawling, living maze of buildings that seemed to reach over to the heavens themselves, but it has since long lay an ocean of rubble and wasted concrete, the direct results of a nuclear holocaust oh so many years ago. The destruction left plenty of space between ruins-- some occupied by rusted car husks, others invaded by overgrown vegetation, yet others lay at the mercy of collapsing concrete fragments caused by the gradual decay and disrepair the city lay in. Shattered glass littered the dry ground, and the streets lay cracked as if recently shaken by a mighty earthquake. The skies over the city were cloudy and thunderstruck, coiling chains of white thunder silently leaping from cloud to cloud yet rarely descending into the ruins below. Strangely enough, the air of the atmosphere was clean enough to breathe- on the outside. Most interiors were in dusty disarray: metal, wood, plastic, cloth, and other miscellaneous articles lay long in misuse scattered across the landscape, turned furniture and ragged paintings adding small details to the generic leftover chaos. No stray animals dared tread into the empty streets of the devastated city, which today still lay as lifeless and silent as they days after its explosive demise.
Step. Step. Step.
Across this barren space of universe walked a figure, fully covered in a heavy, dirtied brown traveling cloak, the nondescript garment held close by a hand on its chest as the cloth shamelessly swept and picked up dirt off the ground. This humanoid figure, tall and bulky due to the garment, took long steps as it tread the beaten streets of the city, head moving and looking everywhere: left, right, behind, above, below... a truly paranoid display of behavior, for sure, but was it the truth under the cloak? It was a hard thing to tell: opting to leap over obstacles such as fallen lampposts and heaps of random metallic trash as opposed to circling them, this fellow, whoever it was, just wanted to get somewhere-- and as fast as he/she could, apparently...
Step. Step. Step.
A single flash of white lightning lit the noon skies of the ancient city, accompanied by the echo of a rumble and light drops of water starting to break free of their cloudy prisons above. Even though the light of the sun was so deeply blocked by the sheer thickness of the stormy clouds, a good manner of light was still available to most of the city: even under the shade of the massive skyscrapers, details could still be made out of objects and zones, which in turn made the wanderer's task of moving swiftly and unhindered that much easier. *Crash!* A sudden, violent gust of wind blew high atop a building to the right, causing the figure to jolt and leap the opposite way-- as it turns out, the gust decimated one of the weaker glass windows of an old apartment complex, causing the minuscule shards to mingle with the slow-falling water droplets a good 100 feet high or so. Dismissing the threat, the figure clenched its cloak tighter, starting to move forward again.
Step.
Then it suddenly stopped. It raised its head under the dirtied hood, gaze fixed forward. Tensing up, it took a nonchalant step back, matching brown boots sliding softly across the cracked concrete. Something was here-- the kind of thing that, apparently, the figure did not want to see or meet in this of all places.
The rain started to pick up.
----
Step. Step. Step.
The unnamed city was once a sprawling, living maze of buildings that seemed to reach over to the heavens themselves, but it has since long lay an ocean of rubble and wasted concrete, the direct results of a nuclear holocaust oh so many years ago. The destruction left plenty of space between ruins-- some occupied by rusted car husks, others invaded by overgrown vegetation, yet others lay at the mercy of collapsing concrete fragments caused by the gradual decay and disrepair the city lay in. Shattered glass littered the dry ground, and the streets lay cracked as if recently shaken by a mighty earthquake. The skies over the city were cloudy and thunderstruck, coiling chains of white thunder silently leaping from cloud to cloud yet rarely descending into the ruins below. Strangely enough, the air of the atmosphere was clean enough to breathe- on the outside. Most interiors were in dusty disarray: metal, wood, plastic, cloth, and other miscellaneous articles lay long in misuse scattered across the landscape, turned furniture and ragged paintings adding small details to the generic leftover chaos. No stray animals dared tread into the empty streets of the devastated city, which today still lay as lifeless and silent as they days after its explosive demise.
Step. Step. Step.
Across this barren space of universe walked a figure, fully covered in a heavy, dirtied brown traveling cloak, the nondescript garment held close by a hand on its chest as the cloth shamelessly swept and picked up dirt off the ground. This humanoid figure, tall and bulky due to the garment, took long steps as it tread the beaten streets of the city, head moving and looking everywhere: left, right, behind, above, below... a truly paranoid display of behavior, for sure, but was it the truth under the cloak? It was a hard thing to tell: opting to leap over obstacles such as fallen lampposts and heaps of random metallic trash as opposed to circling them, this fellow, whoever it was, just wanted to get somewhere-- and as fast as he/she could, apparently...
Step. Step. Step.
A single flash of white lightning lit the noon skies of the ancient city, accompanied by the echo of a rumble and light drops of water starting to break free of their cloudy prisons above. Even though the light of the sun was so deeply blocked by the sheer thickness of the stormy clouds, a good manner of light was still available to most of the city: even under the shade of the massive skyscrapers, details could still be made out of objects and zones, which in turn made the wanderer's task of moving swiftly and unhindered that much easier. *Crash!* A sudden, violent gust of wind blew high atop a building to the right, causing the figure to jolt and leap the opposite way-- as it turns out, the gust decimated one of the weaker glass windows of an old apartment complex, causing the minuscule shards to mingle with the slow-falling water droplets a good 100 feet high or so. Dismissing the threat, the figure clenched its cloak tighter, starting to move forward again.
Step.
Then it suddenly stopped. It raised its head under the dirtied hood, gaze fixed forward. Tensing up, it took a nonchalant step back, matching brown boots sliding softly across the cracked concrete. Something was here-- the kind of thing that, apparently, the figure did not want to see or meet in this of all places.
The rain started to pick up.
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Galefore
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Metal Man
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The HUD of a certain man of steel searched through the darkened city. He was noy bothered by the rain, being a man inside much armor. He didn't even feel it. His clanking steps could be heard far, even during a storm; he had no problem as he moved at ease through the wrecked town. The water washed dust from his joints, and his mind snapped awake as if it had been asleep for a while.
The target is in range.
His systems spoke to his mind in this abrupt voice. Its lack of discernible gender and loud tone always shook him. But it was intentional. He raised his eyes, awakening to find himself in this city. His eye-scanners looked about, finding nothing but wreckage in the path he was on. But a map in his lower left showed an icon just a street to the left away.
He walked towards it, making his way through a concrete wall like it was nothing, then through another. They gave way to his presence with a wet cracking noise. He was now on another street, one he hadn't patrolled before. He had been looking for this person for quite a while, and, upon meeting them, wasn't quite sure what to do. He stared at the other person for a while in the darkness, surprised to have found him in the first place.
His nimble joints flexed as the million reflections of the scene in the raindrops would soon change drastically. He rose a hand, its dark silhouette prominent in the darkness. It was almost like he was aiming a gun. But it was his finger. He pointed? That was it?
His metallic voice croaked to the wet atmosphere, with a volume such as to shatter a window behind his foe and possibly shake him a bit. "So, you are target 419. I don't know why somebody would put so much money on your head, but a job's a job. Enjoy your last moments of existence."
The voice cut out, and suddenly a very loud CRACKOOM was heard. In the space of a lightning bolt striking, Metal Man had leapt into the air, using such force it cracked the pavement beneath him and shook the remaining streetlamps. Once airborne, Metal Man kicked a large chunk off of an aging building's facade, causing it to rain red-and-brown brick at his foe, from a high enough place for the velocity on the bricks alone to be lethal.
Then he landed atop a streetlamp, causing it to fall like a tree as he hit the pavement behind his foe. Without a word, he spun around and raised his fists.
"You've just found yourself the boxing match from hell. No referee, no audience, and no cameras to save you. And you're not even a boxer by default." He chuckled, clenching his entirely steel fists. "Let's see what kind of material your face is made of."
WHOOSH.
Metal's right fist flew at his foe's face, intent upon causing nothing less than a crater in his foe's visage.
The target is in range.
His systems spoke to his mind in this abrupt voice. Its lack of discernible gender and loud tone always shook him. But it was intentional. He raised his eyes, awakening to find himself in this city. His eye-scanners looked about, finding nothing but wreckage in the path he was on. But a map in his lower left showed an icon just a street to the left away.
He walked towards it, making his way through a concrete wall like it was nothing, then through another. They gave way to his presence with a wet cracking noise. He was now on another street, one he hadn't patrolled before. He had been looking for this person for quite a while, and, upon meeting them, wasn't quite sure what to do. He stared at the other person for a while in the darkness, surprised to have found him in the first place.
His nimble joints flexed as the million reflections of the scene in the raindrops would soon change drastically. He rose a hand, its dark silhouette prominent in the darkness. It was almost like he was aiming a gun. But it was his finger. He pointed? That was it?
His metallic voice croaked to the wet atmosphere, with a volume such as to shatter a window behind his foe and possibly shake him a bit. "So, you are target 419. I don't know why somebody would put so much money on your head, but a job's a job. Enjoy your last moments of existence."
The voice cut out, and suddenly a very loud CRACKOOM was heard. In the space of a lightning bolt striking, Metal Man had leapt into the air, using such force it cracked the pavement beneath him and shook the remaining streetlamps. Once airborne, Metal Man kicked a large chunk off of an aging building's facade, causing it to rain red-and-brown brick at his foe, from a high enough place for the velocity on the bricks alone to be lethal.
Then he landed atop a streetlamp, causing it to fall like a tree as he hit the pavement behind his foe. Without a word, he spun around and raised his fists.
"You've just found yourself the boxing match from hell. No referee, no audience, and no cameras to save you. And you're not even a boxer by default." He chuckled, clenching his entirely steel fists. "Let's see what kind of material your face is made of."
WHOOSH.
Metal's right fist flew at his foe's face, intent upon causing nothing less than a crater in his foe's visage.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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OOC: [@Gale: Thanks for the welcome back! I really missed you guys-- even if I didn't particularly show it via MSN poking, God knows I barely have a chance to initiate a convo with the damn thing anymore... =x It's something like: *log on* --> *5 - 7 convo windows pop up* --> *chat* --> *more windows* --> *chat chat chat* --> *online time runs out* :( ]
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Tch...
Aside from the occasional grunt at the effort of moving over obstacles and the like, the figure had mostly stayed silent and observant, the darkness of the hood amplified by the darkness of the clouds above and its details blurred by the still-shallow raindrops. The cloaked individual took another step back as Metal Man's cybernetic voice boomed crisp as thunder: "So, you are target 419. I don't know why somebody would put so much money on your head, but a job's a job. Enjoy your last moments of existence." And without as much as a warning beforehand the thing leaped into the air, the force behind the jump making the figure tremble slightly under the dirtied garment.
But as the iron warrior kicked that old concrete facade, the figure stopped hiding, and with the left hand it held the cloak tight, he swiftly removed it, revealing a male human underneath. The man was of young appearance, with striking short silver hair and equally silver, clear eyes. His own clothing consisted of long, tight black pants whose bottom stuck under elaborate, beaten brown boots, with a deep-crimson set of both long-sleeved shirt and sleeveless vest. Here and there, black-and-red belts united the pieces of clothing together, and on his neck hung a pearly white scarf-- the cleanest and most prominent article amidst the waves of black, brown and red.
-"Sorry-- I don't intend to go back to the Bureau easily!" the man bellowed in a surprisingly deep voice, roaring with an eager tone even above the blatant crunch of snapping concrete. Quickly reaching under the scarf with his right, opponent motioning to land, he pulled a small, bright gem from a recess within: snapping off the restraint with a strong pull, he held the diminutive object in front of him, the sphere gleaming like a bright ruby.
Prepare for battle, Concierto! In a true display of fantasy made real, the small orb disappeared in a haze of white light, quickly extending itself in the shape of a staff. Not even a second after, the energy materialized, leaving in its place a golden metal staff: the length of it shone with an unnatural glow, the ruby sphere embedded on a crescent moon-shaped tip. The pole was about 6 feet in length, and wide enough for the young traveler to grasp it tightly with the long, bony fingers in his hands. Just below the tip, however, lay a circular chamber, not unlike those found in revolvers, and from within this chamber, a great wheezing sound erupted, and an equally small cylinder was promptly expelled from its confines and onto the cracked ground. Motioning the tip of the staff towards the falling debris, the ruby shone, displaying the words Starlight Shield, and at the silent command of its wielder, a concentrated explosion of magical energy burst apart the debris, deviating the remaining fragments mingle into the rain and fall away from the traveler's particular position.
But the enemy had already landed as this was happening. "You've just found yourself the boxing match from hell. No referee, no audience, and no cameras to save you. And you're not even a boxer by default. Let's see what kind of material your face is made of." the steel contraption proclaimed, brazenly launching its arm to hit him. Wait--did it just launch its arm? With a frown, the yet-unnamed traveler twirled the staff and himself with it, facing the impending assault: *KA-BLAM!!* It was a terrible impact, instantly forcing back the hunted man several feet as boots skidded on the ground, miraculously not finding anything else on their path but burned concrete. Gritting his teeth as a reaction, the staff had -somehow- withstood the mighty blow, and forcing his arms into motion, he pushed back the offending object with a grunt and a heave, making the arm fall to the ground. A paranoid action afterward, he was quick to leap back to widen the space between the two, but the metal man wasn't going to let him go so easily. Already he was rushing towards the hunted man's new position, and the victim simply raised his staff again as he muttered:
-"Ex-High Magic Knight, Amrick Ukihara-- I won't fall so easily to the likes of you." and to these words the youngster stood at the ready, waiting for his opponent's rush...
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Tch...
Aside from the occasional grunt at the effort of moving over obstacles and the like, the figure had mostly stayed silent and observant, the darkness of the hood amplified by the darkness of the clouds above and its details blurred by the still-shallow raindrops. The cloaked individual took another step back as Metal Man's cybernetic voice boomed crisp as thunder: "So, you are target 419. I don't know why somebody would put so much money on your head, but a job's a job. Enjoy your last moments of existence." And without as much as a warning beforehand the thing leaped into the air, the force behind the jump making the figure tremble slightly under the dirtied garment.
But as the iron warrior kicked that old concrete facade, the figure stopped hiding, and with the left hand it held the cloak tight, he swiftly removed it, revealing a male human underneath. The man was of young appearance, with striking short silver hair and equally silver, clear eyes. His own clothing consisted of long, tight black pants whose bottom stuck under elaborate, beaten brown boots, with a deep-crimson set of both long-sleeved shirt and sleeveless vest. Here and there, black-and-red belts united the pieces of clothing together, and on his neck hung a pearly white scarf-- the cleanest and most prominent article amidst the waves of black, brown and red.
-"Sorry-- I don't intend to go back to the Bureau easily!" the man bellowed in a surprisingly deep voice, roaring with an eager tone even above the blatant crunch of snapping concrete. Quickly reaching under the scarf with his right, opponent motioning to land, he pulled a small, bright gem from a recess within: snapping off the restraint with a strong pull, he held the diminutive object in front of him, the sphere gleaming like a bright ruby.
Prepare for battle, Concierto! In a true display of fantasy made real, the small orb disappeared in a haze of white light, quickly extending itself in the shape of a staff. Not even a second after, the energy materialized, leaving in its place a golden metal staff: the length of it shone with an unnatural glow, the ruby sphere embedded on a crescent moon-shaped tip. The pole was about 6 feet in length, and wide enough for the young traveler to grasp it tightly with the long, bony fingers in his hands. Just below the tip, however, lay a circular chamber, not unlike those found in revolvers, and from within this chamber, a great wheezing sound erupted, and an equally small cylinder was promptly expelled from its confines and onto the cracked ground. Motioning the tip of the staff towards the falling debris, the ruby shone, displaying the words Starlight Shield, and at the silent command of its wielder, a concentrated explosion of magical energy burst apart the debris, deviating the remaining fragments mingle into the rain and fall away from the traveler's particular position.
But the enemy had already landed as this was happening. "You've just found yourself the boxing match from hell. No referee, no audience, and no cameras to save you. And you're not even a boxer by default. Let's see what kind of material your face is made of." the steel contraption proclaimed, brazenly launching its arm to hit him. Wait--did it just launch its arm? With a frown, the yet-unnamed traveler twirled the staff and himself with it, facing the impending assault: *KA-BLAM!!* It was a terrible impact, instantly forcing back the hunted man several feet as boots skidded on the ground, miraculously not finding anything else on their path but burned concrete. Gritting his teeth as a reaction, the staff had -somehow- withstood the mighty blow, and forcing his arms into motion, he pushed back the offending object with a grunt and a heave, making the arm fall to the ground. A paranoid action afterward, he was quick to leap back to widen the space between the two, but the metal man wasn't going to let him go so easily. Already he was rushing towards the hunted man's new position, and the victim simply raised his staff again as he muttered:
-"Ex-High Magic Knight, Amrick Ukihara-- I won't fall so easily to the likes of you." and to these words the youngster stood at the ready, waiting for his opponent's rush...
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Metal Man
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Metal Man's scanners looked on furiously. He had thrown that punch a little too hard, knocking off the outer layer and sending it flying as he had. Luckily, it bounced off his foe's shield. He had rushed ahead to re-attach it. His arm back with his body, he wryly grinned.
"I've been waiting for a real fight. On and on I've slain fools and arrogant idiots. Now at last I can take off my kid gloves and cause some real pain. You may be a cool customer, but I come from the very depths of nightmares."
The raindrops continued falling as the man pressed some buttons on his wrist. He tightened up the grips on his arm armor, so as to not accidentally launch it off like that again. Then he rose up at the staff and its bearer, brazenly punching at it with his right hand. Then his left. Then again his right. The fists whistled through the air with each punch. Each had the force to hurl through a concrete wall.
"You have a nice little staff and shield, don't you... but I can punch you all day long."
He intensified his punches, leaning into it as he began to pummel at his foe, the metal fists clanking and his feet moving forwards. Even the rain he punched flew a far distance away. Steam poured from his shoulders, the rain giving him more cooling capacity than he usually had.
Thoughts echoed through his brain, some electronic, some organic. On the one hand, he wanted to use his brute force and skill; on the other, his risk analyzer suggested he try to destroy his foe off the bat with his own 'magical' tricks. But he shoved his consciousness away to become one with his fighting instinct. Whatever his foe did, he would eventually come to a stop, before then flicking a hand arrogantly and then leaping straight up into the air... and then falling straight down again.
Clearly, he was intending to make his foe into a pancake, by virtue of his sheer weight alone. Dimly lit by his helmet, his mad face smirked--not because he was sure he was going to win, but because, for once, somebody wasn't just blindly running into his attacks.
But was it good to pique the interest of a madman?
"I've been waiting for a real fight. On and on I've slain fools and arrogant idiots. Now at last I can take off my kid gloves and cause some real pain. You may be a cool customer, but I come from the very depths of nightmares."
The raindrops continued falling as the man pressed some buttons on his wrist. He tightened up the grips on his arm armor, so as to not accidentally launch it off like that again. Then he rose up at the staff and its bearer, brazenly punching at it with his right hand. Then his left. Then again his right. The fists whistled through the air with each punch. Each had the force to hurl through a concrete wall.
"You have a nice little staff and shield, don't you... but I can punch you all day long."
He intensified his punches, leaning into it as he began to pummel at his foe, the metal fists clanking and his feet moving forwards. Even the rain he punched flew a far distance away. Steam poured from his shoulders, the rain giving him more cooling capacity than he usually had.
Thoughts echoed through his brain, some electronic, some organic. On the one hand, he wanted to use his brute force and skill; on the other, his risk analyzer suggested he try to destroy his foe off the bat with his own 'magical' tricks. But he shoved his consciousness away to become one with his fighting instinct. Whatever his foe did, he would eventually come to a stop, before then flicking a hand arrogantly and then leaping straight up into the air... and then falling straight down again.
Clearly, he was intending to make his foe into a pancake, by virtue of his sheer weight alone. Dimly lit by his helmet, his mad face smirked--not because he was sure he was going to win, but because, for once, somebody wasn't just blindly running into his attacks.
But was it good to pique the interest of a madman?
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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On the skies above, the rumble of the falling rain would be a deafening sensation-- an all-encompassing wave of sound coming form every direction. In the land below, however, an all-encompassing wave of hurt was quickly forming, Metal Man's fists clashing violently against Amrick's artifact staff over, and over, and over again: a symphonic beat that rose, fell, then rose again, every time stronger than before. Amrick himself was having it rough, carefully timing Concierto's guard to the incoming punches, a translucent spark showing after every impact. The orb at the tip read the words Energetic Fermata as the assault pressed on.
*BAM! BAM! BLAM!* Sweat and water mingled on the silver-haired Amrick's skin as every blow was faster, stronger and better coordinated than the one before. However, even as he valiantly stood against the brutal onslaught of the metallic menace, he grinned. Grinning the same as he gritted his teeth with the effort his defense took, the ruby orb at the tip of his staff was glowing a bright crimson with every hit. Seven, eight, nine-- how many had been launched? He knew that iron contraptions such as these did not have to worry about matters like stamina or endurance: so long as their systems worked within parameters, they could go on and on, even to the end of time. So if it was true that he could punch and punch without stopping...
The foe jumped, once again with the unnatural might of his size alone, and the silver-haired youth seized his chance: with semi-numb fingers gripping the staff tightly, he extended the artifact in a horizontal line forward, motioning to block the imminent hit, and exclaimed: "Concierto-- release!" At the command of its owner, four golden shells violently expelled themselves from the small compartment, and the orb at once reacted, showing the words Fermata Reduction.
What happened next was just a pressurized, rushed, short, and violent display of defiance: the very same energy by which Metal Man pounded through Amrick's staff had been switched to magical force, concentrated, and then released in a mighty, silent burst of raw, colorless magical energy: *BRRRRAK-BLAM!!* The metal mass was pushed back by the force of the release, and Amrick took this break to once again leap back: pointing the tip of his staff at the enemy, a focused glance showed through behind the falling rain, and he muttered: "Concierto-- Attack Mode Release."
The orb glowed once again just as Metal Man hit the ground with a tremble, now showing the words Rapture's Prelude. Another golden shell released from the revolver-like chamber, powering up the weapon, and without another warning, several small spheres of bluish energy formed, launching towards the metallic foe as soon as they were born in a straight line. Each sphere exploded rapidly before the steel enemy with blunt force, some of them exploding even before reaching the target, and all of them creating a distortion between rain, smoke, and blue light. Fast in succession but certainly not powerful enough to take down opposition of this size, Amrick knew that the battle was far from over as he expected the man of metal's next move, hands already starting to tremble over the cold rain...
*BAM! BAM! BLAM!* Sweat and water mingled on the silver-haired Amrick's skin as every blow was faster, stronger and better coordinated than the one before. However, even as he valiantly stood against the brutal onslaught of the metallic menace, he grinned. Grinning the same as he gritted his teeth with the effort his defense took, the ruby orb at the tip of his staff was glowing a bright crimson with every hit. Seven, eight, nine-- how many had been launched? He knew that iron contraptions such as these did not have to worry about matters like stamina or endurance: so long as their systems worked within parameters, they could go on and on, even to the end of time. So if it was true that he could punch and punch without stopping...
The foe jumped, once again with the unnatural might of his size alone, and the silver-haired youth seized his chance: with semi-numb fingers gripping the staff tightly, he extended the artifact in a horizontal line forward, motioning to block the imminent hit, and exclaimed: "Concierto-- release!" At the command of its owner, four golden shells violently expelled themselves from the small compartment, and the orb at once reacted, showing the words Fermata Reduction.
What happened next was just a pressurized, rushed, short, and violent display of defiance: the very same energy by which Metal Man pounded through Amrick's staff had been switched to magical force, concentrated, and then released in a mighty, silent burst of raw, colorless magical energy: *BRRRRAK-BLAM!!* The metal mass was pushed back by the force of the release, and Amrick took this break to once again leap back: pointing the tip of his staff at the enemy, a focused glance showed through behind the falling rain, and he muttered: "Concierto-- Attack Mode Release."
The orb glowed once again just as Metal Man hit the ground with a tremble, now showing the words Rapture's Prelude. Another golden shell released from the revolver-like chamber, powering up the weapon, and without another warning, several small spheres of bluish energy formed, launching towards the metallic foe as soon as they were born in a straight line. Each sphere exploded rapidly before the steel enemy with blunt force, some of them exploding even before reaching the target, and all of them creating a distortion between rain, smoke, and blue light. Fast in succession but certainly not powerful enough to take down opposition of this size, Amrick knew that the battle was far from over as he expected the man of metal's next move, hands already starting to tremble over the cold rain...
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Metal Man
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The man stood stoically as unimaginable super-orbs of magical death exploded everywhere. His armor smoked as it took tons of damage from a reflected attack. However he was still smirking, and the power lay in the fact that, while his attack had not dealt any damage, it had still shown him something else worthy of his time. Clearly, this person could not be punched to bits, and his little staff would protect him with that field, absorbing kinetic force...
...But it had flaws. He had to stand there, constantly using the staff. Obviously it was too strong to punch to death, but it wasn't all-powerful. Metal Man proceeded to lift up a car and toss it at his foe nonchalantly, before then ripping out a light pole.... and then a second one. He would smack away any attempt to send the car back at him, before then speaking again.
"So, you aren't going to just walk into your death. Very well; I shall crush you!"
The man swung both light poles at his foe, intending to capture him--or him inside the force field--in the grip of the two poles. He would attempt this again and again if he should face issues. If he should manage a purchase, his next instinct would be to hurl his foe into a building with the lever-enhanced force of the two poles and his full strength. Otherwise, he would simply keep trying until he broke them to bits against the shield.
Resolute, Metal Man would not stop coming; even though he burnt through subsystems and wasted gigawatts of electricity, he was secure in his mental picture of technology overpowering magic. Now if only that magic staff would quite politely stop getting in the way... he thought. His muscles tensed and flexed as he went through his motions, his skin feeling taut and tense. Now was the time to break this magic voodoo nonsense...
Or potentially be broken instead.
...But it had flaws. He had to stand there, constantly using the staff. Obviously it was too strong to punch to death, but it wasn't all-powerful. Metal Man proceeded to lift up a car and toss it at his foe nonchalantly, before then ripping out a light pole.... and then a second one. He would smack away any attempt to send the car back at him, before then speaking again.
"So, you aren't going to just walk into your death. Very well; I shall crush you!"
The man swung both light poles at his foe, intending to capture him--or him inside the force field--in the grip of the two poles. He would attempt this again and again if he should face issues. If he should manage a purchase, his next instinct would be to hurl his foe into a building with the lever-enhanced force of the two poles and his full strength. Otherwise, he would simply keep trying until he broke them to bits against the shield.
Resolute, Metal Man would not stop coming; even though he burnt through subsystems and wasted gigawatts of electricity, he was secure in his mental picture of technology overpowering magic. Now if only that magic staff would quite politely stop getting in the way... he thought. His muscles tensed and flexed as he went through his motions, his skin feeling taut and tense. Now was the time to break this magic voodoo nonsense...
Or potentially be broken instead.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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-"Grhh! Concierto-- burst!" Young Amrick's words came swift and maybe a tad exasperated, the coldness of the rain beginning to express on the body as his clothing was gradually becoming more and more soaked in the vital liquid as he once again raised his staff, pointing the ruby tip at the incoming car husk. The artifact started humming, a level of sound similar to that of the rain's mild impact on the solid concrete street, and just as suddenly as before, another silent burst of energy was released, its raw spherical shape cutting across the water and striking the car dead-on center. Using more force than expected, the car bent itself in half, focused on the point of impact, and promptly launched itself back towards the metal aggressor, going well above him and landing several meters back with a loud bang. Another loud shell violently expelled itself from the chamber near the tip, bouncing off the nearby sidewalk, and the silver-haired boy gave his weapon an apprehensive look, switching sights between both itself and his opponent.
While the steel fighter was busy pulling up the lampposts [an action Amrick was amazed it seemed to take such little effort], the magic knight used his left hand to 'chop' the chamber of his artifact staff. Twirling it wildly once as he did so, he forcefully ejected the empty case, and quickly reaching under his vest and pulling out a new cartridge, he slammed the package into the empty slot just as the staff completed a full circle. A fancy action which might fit more along the lines of daft or risky, by the time he was finished the golden artifact gave another, more pleasant hum as the shells fit in place. A flash of lightning gleamed off the semi-charred armor of the Metal Man, also serving to punctuate the lampposts he brandished.
""So, you aren't going to just walk into your death. Very well; I shall crush you!" the enemy proclaimed boldly, swinging the iron mass and the concrete of the poles with an athlete's grace, an unsettling sight for the young magic knight. Reacting as fast as he could, he lifted his weapon vertically, and braced himself for the upcoming action: Descending Crush, read Concierto's bright crimson orb. Grasping tightly the golden weapon, he fiercely brought it down to the ground with a mighty cleave, the bottom tip striking the wet ground with a dry crush. Nothing particularly happened for a split second-- that time by which those menacing poles approached Amrick with speed-- but when the magic came to fruition, it was a sight to behold: twin plates of cracked earth raised themselves in front of him, forming a V-shaped indent on the ground, followed by another V-shaped rise of the earth no more than a meter forward, and another, and another. He knew that the lampposts wouldn't resist the sudden upwards assault coming from above, but would this hold true for the metal man, as well? Taking a chance in a battle he could apparently take none, the violent shakes kept extending and shaking water off the ground all the way towards the iron golem...
While the steel fighter was busy pulling up the lampposts [an action Amrick was amazed it seemed to take such little effort], the magic knight used his left hand to 'chop' the chamber of his artifact staff. Twirling it wildly once as he did so, he forcefully ejected the empty case, and quickly reaching under his vest and pulling out a new cartridge, he slammed the package into the empty slot just as the staff completed a full circle. A fancy action which might fit more along the lines of daft or risky, by the time he was finished the golden artifact gave another, more pleasant hum as the shells fit in place. A flash of lightning gleamed off the semi-charred armor of the Metal Man, also serving to punctuate the lampposts he brandished.
""So, you aren't going to just walk into your death. Very well; I shall crush you!" the enemy proclaimed boldly, swinging the iron mass and the concrete of the poles with an athlete's grace, an unsettling sight for the young magic knight. Reacting as fast as he could, he lifted his weapon vertically, and braced himself for the upcoming action: Descending Crush, read Concierto's bright crimson orb. Grasping tightly the golden weapon, he fiercely brought it down to the ground with a mighty cleave, the bottom tip striking the wet ground with a dry crush. Nothing particularly happened for a split second-- that time by which those menacing poles approached Amrick with speed-- but when the magic came to fruition, it was a sight to behold: twin plates of cracked earth raised themselves in front of him, forming a V-shaped indent on the ground, followed by another V-shaped rise of the earth no more than a meter forward, and another, and another. He knew that the lampposts wouldn't resist the sudden upwards assault coming from above, but would this hold true for the metal man, as well? Taking a chance in a battle he could apparently take none, the violent shakes kept extending and shaking water off the ground all the way towards the iron golem...
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Metal Man
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The man was hit again and again. Metallic car husks. Waves of earth. It was simply too much for him to block or stop with brute force. His armor cracked. He was knocked backwards against a wall, surrounded by destruction. His mind whirred constantly, but it was no use. His joints were seemingly overloaded.
But there was a silver lining in all of this. His resentment, his hatred against the magic staff had been fermenting all this time. Though his arms had no power to restore him to his feet or break the shield, his mind raged endlessly. His normally pristine eyes darkened. His time-device activated erratically, glowing a bloody orange color. The orange appeared to blossom in the mist of the night, giving a creepy ethereal feel to the man it was coming from.
The half-clock dial on his left arm turned to midnight. Despite the fact his body and technology had been overloaded... he stood. Orange energy crackled. And... so did the pavement???
The rain suddenly could not come near him; he glowed red hot with the orange energy, and any rain which touched the air near him was vaporized. Yet the peculiar nature of this also removed the fog caused by normal steam. An abysmal humming began to issue from him as he began to walk towards his foe again. It was as if the suit was walking by itself.
Another earthen wave came at him. In a trance like state, he held up his right hand. The orange energy cracked his wrist plate, then shot out like lightning... and the entire wave of earth stopped dead still. The body continued moving. When it reached the embankment of Earth, he touched it, and suddenly it sunk right back into the ground. The energy used in the attack, the color of the wand that the magician had used, it turned orange and returned to Metal Man's wrist.
He walked closer, his feet crushing and destroying the pavement now. Hairline cracks appeared in everything he touched; and as he came back into range with his foe, a different atmosphere would be tasted... felt... and otherwise heard in the atmosphere. A great feeling of hopelessness and hatred filled the area... the end of all hope itself, indeed. Lights dimmed and flickered in his presence, now, as he raised his hand to the sky...
...The very rain around the fighters stopped utterly, leaving behind that smell of freshly rained upon soil... even though it had been raining the whole time. He raised the gauntlet with the half-clock at his foe, and a voice projected itself.
"Thaaaaank you for your deeds. I was afraid no one would bother to defeat him..." That was odd, his eyes were now glowing orange. "But you happen to have unleashed an unspeakable force through your mastery. I shall determine whether you are fit to live... by summoning the ancient metaphysical arts of the original technology."
The ground shook. Windows broke. A chill could be felt down anybody's spine in the area. Energy pooled from the timepiece... forming veins. No, these weren't normal veins... they were tentacles now. Large orange energy things. But, contrary to normal tentacles... they seemingly moved through the physical world and its objects like they didn't exist. This was quite definitely a weird spectacle... especially when they bent towards the staff.
"Surrender your energy to meeeeeee...."
The emptiness, the vileness, the darkness of a being with no soul seemingly pervaded the area... and it tugged at the staff and its bearer with a seductive feeling... just like falling asleep, only this one would be permanent... as for the staff, the tentacles would grip with a wrenching strength, attempting to touch the staff or its spells and absorb their energy whole, in a vain attempt to fill what even a non-magician would detect as an extreme energy-less area right at the part where the bizarre clock was mounted to Metal Man's arm.
Perhaps... perhaps Metal Man had more to his story than was at first glance? Unfortunately, it might be the last story unveil seen by his foe, if his foe was not extremely careful... the vile chaos lurking in that clock seemingly made past foes Metal Man had fought look like French Toast!
But there was a silver lining in all of this. His resentment, his hatred against the magic staff had been fermenting all this time. Though his arms had no power to restore him to his feet or break the shield, his mind raged endlessly. His normally pristine eyes darkened. His time-device activated erratically, glowing a bloody orange color. The orange appeared to blossom in the mist of the night, giving a creepy ethereal feel to the man it was coming from.
The half-clock dial on his left arm turned to midnight. Despite the fact his body and technology had been overloaded... he stood. Orange energy crackled. And... so did the pavement???
The rain suddenly could not come near him; he glowed red hot with the orange energy, and any rain which touched the air near him was vaporized. Yet the peculiar nature of this also removed the fog caused by normal steam. An abysmal humming began to issue from him as he began to walk towards his foe again. It was as if the suit was walking by itself.
Another earthen wave came at him. In a trance like state, he held up his right hand. The orange energy cracked his wrist plate, then shot out like lightning... and the entire wave of earth stopped dead still. The body continued moving. When it reached the embankment of Earth, he touched it, and suddenly it sunk right back into the ground. The energy used in the attack, the color of the wand that the magician had used, it turned orange and returned to Metal Man's wrist.
He walked closer, his feet crushing and destroying the pavement now. Hairline cracks appeared in everything he touched; and as he came back into range with his foe, a different atmosphere would be tasted... felt... and otherwise heard in the atmosphere. A great feeling of hopelessness and hatred filled the area... the end of all hope itself, indeed. Lights dimmed and flickered in his presence, now, as he raised his hand to the sky...
...The very rain around the fighters stopped utterly, leaving behind that smell of freshly rained upon soil... even though it had been raining the whole time. He raised the gauntlet with the half-clock at his foe, and a voice projected itself.
"Thaaaaank you for your deeds. I was afraid no one would bother to defeat him..." That was odd, his eyes were now glowing orange. "But you happen to have unleashed an unspeakable force through your mastery. I shall determine whether you are fit to live... by summoning the ancient metaphysical arts of the original technology."
The ground shook. Windows broke. A chill could be felt down anybody's spine in the area. Energy pooled from the timepiece... forming veins. No, these weren't normal veins... they were tentacles now. Large orange energy things. But, contrary to normal tentacles... they seemingly moved through the physical world and its objects like they didn't exist. This was quite definitely a weird spectacle... especially when they bent towards the staff.
"Surrender your energy to meeeeeee...."
The emptiness, the vileness, the darkness of a being with no soul seemingly pervaded the area... and it tugged at the staff and its bearer with a seductive feeling... just like falling asleep, only this one would be permanent... as for the staff, the tentacles would grip with a wrenching strength, attempting to touch the staff or its spells and absorb their energy whole, in a vain attempt to fill what even a non-magician would detect as an extreme energy-less area right at the part where the bizarre clock was mounted to Metal Man's arm.
Perhaps... perhaps Metal Man had more to his story than was at first glance? Unfortunately, it might be the last story unveil seen by his foe, if his foe was not extremely careful... the vile chaos lurking in that clock seemingly made past foes Metal Man had fought look like French Toast!
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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if Amrick could open his eyes any wider, he would do so-- except, the water seeping in and blurring his sight was not going to be welcome at all. The beats of the rain paled in comparison to the beats of his heart, that dangerous sensation permeating the ambiance slowly crawling into his senses and making him shiver-- not from the cold of the rain, but of the fear in his mind. What the hell was happening? He had been running away, then met this metallic behemoth who wanted him dead, seemingly by chance. The scuffle under the rain was a tame affair: in terms of strength, both of them had much to give still, and yet now... now there was an evil force unleashed, a mysterious existence that wanted to simply wipe Amrick off the face of the universe.
He would not have it. He hadn't run this far to lose now. But how could he overpower this dread in his hands, in his feet, in his limbs...? "Surrender your energy to meeeeeee...." A chill went down his spine as he heard this-- a pit opened in his stomach as another shiver came through, lessening the grip of his staff on his hands... his power was slipping away... Amrick gritted his teeth in desperation, eyes jumping from one freaky tentacle to the other and they moved, slowly and unimpeded by the atmosphere towards his weapon...
Run.
The thought was hot and imperative, nerves wracking as they tried to fulfill the instinctive order.
Run.
The tentacles loomed closer, but the magic knight felt so sleepy... his vision was starting to become blurry, as his eyes became teary...
Run!
The ruby orb at the tip of the staff shone with a weak glint, gradually becoming stronger with every wave.
RUN!
Amrick blinked.
RUN, GODDAMMIT! RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!
Against the tremble of his legs, the shock of this new revelation, the fear that shook his bones, and the uncertainty of what was to happen, he gripped his staff as tightly as he could-- and he ran. He didn't know if the metal man had any heavier tricks up his sleeve, but he ran. Breathing like he was about to drown, he didn't scream out of sheer force of will: what would his next move be? He had to find a point to defend himself, anything to use to his advantage... the ample rooftops? The winding street mazes? He couldn't think straight. All that he did was to run. Run straight ahead, leaving his opponent behind.
He would not have it. He hadn't run this far to lose now. But how could he overpower this dread in his hands, in his feet, in his limbs...? "Surrender your energy to meeeeeee...." A chill went down his spine as he heard this-- a pit opened in his stomach as another shiver came through, lessening the grip of his staff on his hands... his power was slipping away... Amrick gritted his teeth in desperation, eyes jumping from one freaky tentacle to the other and they moved, slowly and unimpeded by the atmosphere towards his weapon...
Run.
The thought was hot and imperative, nerves wracking as they tried to fulfill the instinctive order.
Run.
The tentacles loomed closer, but the magic knight felt so sleepy... his vision was starting to become blurry, as his eyes became teary...
Run!
The ruby orb at the tip of the staff shone with a weak glint, gradually becoming stronger with every wave.
RUN!
Amrick blinked.
RUN, GODDAMMIT! RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!
Against the tremble of his legs, the shock of this new revelation, the fear that shook his bones, and the uncertainty of what was to happen, he gripped his staff as tightly as he could-- and he ran. He didn't know if the metal man had any heavier tricks up his sleeve, but he ran. Breathing like he was about to drown, he didn't scream out of sheer force of will: what would his next move be? He had to find a point to defend himself, anything to use to his advantage... the ample rooftops? The winding street mazes? He couldn't think straight. All that he did was to run. Run straight ahead, leaving his opponent behind.
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Metal Man
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The voice of the vile darkness within the clock murmured in the distance as its target ran. The clanking steps echoed through the city, following in a slow and deliberate matter. Metal Man's left arm rose up, and the clock's tentacles withdrew.
"I'm afraid you can't run from me."
An ear-splitting screech could be heard. The source would become obvious immediately. The atmosphere of darkness and decay came close again, this time through beams of strange energy. They moved at a supersonic speed, such that their very passing by could knock somebody down. But it was worse than that; rebounding from the corner of every building facing the street, the beam of sentient energy ripped a large portion from all the buildings it hit, those ahead and behind of the target.
These rocks then flew out into the middle of the street, into the sides of the street, and all around, creating an impressive blockade so as to prevent further movement. The rocks seemingly melded together, the parts not stuck together being obliterated by the strange force before they were then reimposed in a fashion that connected them as if they were all the same. The lights in this place went out, and soon only the orange aura of the Metal Man could be seen, as he walked into view again, undeterred.
"You are the first non-vampiric enemy worth my true power. And the first person to then be worthy of hearing my speech. Yet you run, like a little child. It is just as well. All beings are empty vessels until filled with my infinite energy!"
The sickening falseness of the last line came to bear. One could see the path behind this... thing... had been cracked into oblivion just by touching that chaotic energy. The empty hand was pointed at Amrick, great orange veins appearing. Corresponding veins appeared in the blockade... which then began to close in. The man's gaze stared directly at his foe, and with it came an intense amount of hatred and emptiness; enough to drive anyone who looked at it mad, and cause irrational terror and confusion otherwise. The eyes glowed with a violent orange color as the man continued to walk towards Amrick, and while the rocks around Amrick went to close in on him.
"Give in to me... you cannot resist my power... magic bends beneath its true master... and I have seen the future... no one, not even you, can escape your death... and here I am, offering you the opportunity to choose a painless death... why do you run from the inevitable?"
The mouth of the man in the suit was not moving. Instead, his face seemed to be twitching. Perhaps this thing didn't have as much control over the body than it seemed... but it wasn't exactly the right time to check that out!
"I'm afraid you can't run from me."
An ear-splitting screech could be heard. The source would become obvious immediately. The atmosphere of darkness and decay came close again, this time through beams of strange energy. They moved at a supersonic speed, such that their very passing by could knock somebody down. But it was worse than that; rebounding from the corner of every building facing the street, the beam of sentient energy ripped a large portion from all the buildings it hit, those ahead and behind of the target.
These rocks then flew out into the middle of the street, into the sides of the street, and all around, creating an impressive blockade so as to prevent further movement. The rocks seemingly melded together, the parts not stuck together being obliterated by the strange force before they were then reimposed in a fashion that connected them as if they were all the same. The lights in this place went out, and soon only the orange aura of the Metal Man could be seen, as he walked into view again, undeterred.
"You are the first non-vampiric enemy worth my true power. And the first person to then be worthy of hearing my speech. Yet you run, like a little child. It is just as well. All beings are empty vessels until filled with my infinite energy!"
The sickening falseness of the last line came to bear. One could see the path behind this... thing... had been cracked into oblivion just by touching that chaotic energy. The empty hand was pointed at Amrick, great orange veins appearing. Corresponding veins appeared in the blockade... which then began to close in. The man's gaze stared directly at his foe, and with it came an intense amount of hatred and emptiness; enough to drive anyone who looked at it mad, and cause irrational terror and confusion otherwise. The eyes glowed with a violent orange color as the man continued to walk towards Amrick, and while the rocks around Amrick went to close in on him.
"Give in to me... you cannot resist my power... magic bends beneath its true master... and I have seen the future... no one, not even you, can escape your death... and here I am, offering you the opportunity to choose a painless death... why do you run from the inevitable?"
The mouth of the man in the suit was not moving. Instead, his face seemed to be twitching. Perhaps this thing didn't have as much control over the body than it seemed... but it wasn't exactly the right time to check that out!
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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Methinks the climax nears
As the seconds and the minutes of the battle went by, matched at each turn by a steady increase in the 'creepy' levels of the metal man and that all-encompassing field of his, Amrick reluctantly came to a subconscious conclusion: if he was to win, he'd have to do the impossible-- somehow force that strange field to shut down, take down the metallic terror in one super-powered assault, or do both things at once. The problem? He couldn't quite achieve that. Without the support of his old employer, the Time-Space Administration Bureau, he could only do so much with his artifact staff Concierto: as a result of his defecting, some of the more powerful techniques made possible by the staff were locked before the link between the two was cut, leaving Amrick at about 2/3 of his previous ability. How could the silver-haired kid, whose power was so drastically cut, deal with an enemy who became harder and harder to deal with by the minute?
He had thought that the past didn't matter anymore, but the danger Amrick was in made it clear that he had made a mistake-- and now he was paying for it in fighting this steel monster that wanted to claim not only his life, but also his hard-earned artifact staff. How powerless was the young mage under the light of the situation drove him crazy, his thoughts jumbled with a mix of fear, confusion, and a desperate will to push past this disastrous encounter and simply flee this place. Enemy on the front, rocks on the back, danger all around: he had to think quickly, but he didn't have the leisure of another extra minute. Reacting on his instinct against the approaching appendages, he did the only thing he could do:
He jumped. Holding the golden weapon in a deathly grip that made his hands numb, he focused a large magic circle under his feet. It was an impressive sight-- a pearl-white mix of unison patterns that so blatantly stood out amidst the deep darkness produced by the cloudy skies and the heavy shade of the buildings. On top of this circle he crouched and jumped again, a great boost of energy providing him with several feet of vertical aerial advance. His eyes were unfocused and red from the tears and the nerves, but his sight locked onto Metal Man as he yelled on top of his lungs:
-"YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME DOWN YET!! Concierto, Forma de Hacha!"
Following this proclamation, a strange scene played itself, seemingly in slow-motion: the crescent tip of the golden staff rearranged itself in such a manner that it was an inverse-U shape, and the staff's upper half split in half with a mechanical ripple, allowing the crescent bulk to lower itself to about 3/4 of the staff's length. Shifting with more mechanic glory, the ruby orb at the tip also descended with the mass, leaving the top itself bare with the golden metal. At the sides of where the crescent mass had descended, more changes started to occur, forcing the mass to expand and flatten itself on either side until the staff was no longer such, but rather a medium-sized, double-bladed axe. The ruby orb located at the center of the blades shone a bright crimson color, the magic bullet chamber located just below it.
Gripping this new form of weapon high above his head, the red sphere glowed with the words Spiral Ostinato, and using the weight of the weapon and the boost of the move to his advantage, Amrick swung around. And around. And around. And around. And around. "Rrrraaaaaaagh!" Attempting to use centrifugal force to boost the blunt impact of his weapon, he started to descend, each swing and twist bringing him closer to the metal man and, perhaps, closer to his own impending doom... the rain, the city, the rocks, the energy-- he wasn't thinking anymore. He just wanted to get out of here.
As the seconds and the minutes of the battle went by, matched at each turn by a steady increase in the 'creepy' levels of the metal man and that all-encompassing field of his, Amrick reluctantly came to a subconscious conclusion: if he was to win, he'd have to do the impossible-- somehow force that strange field to shut down, take down the metallic terror in one super-powered assault, or do both things at once. The problem? He couldn't quite achieve that. Without the support of his old employer, the Time-Space Administration Bureau, he could only do so much with his artifact staff Concierto: as a result of his defecting, some of the more powerful techniques made possible by the staff were locked before the link between the two was cut, leaving Amrick at about 2/3 of his previous ability. How could the silver-haired kid, whose power was so drastically cut, deal with an enemy who became harder and harder to deal with by the minute?
He had thought that the past didn't matter anymore, but the danger Amrick was in made it clear that he had made a mistake-- and now he was paying for it in fighting this steel monster that wanted to claim not only his life, but also his hard-earned artifact staff. How powerless was the young mage under the light of the situation drove him crazy, his thoughts jumbled with a mix of fear, confusion, and a desperate will to push past this disastrous encounter and simply flee this place. Enemy on the front, rocks on the back, danger all around: he had to think quickly, but he didn't have the leisure of another extra minute. Reacting on his instinct against the approaching appendages, he did the only thing he could do:
He jumped. Holding the golden weapon in a deathly grip that made his hands numb, he focused a large magic circle under his feet. It was an impressive sight-- a pearl-white mix of unison patterns that so blatantly stood out amidst the deep darkness produced by the cloudy skies and the heavy shade of the buildings. On top of this circle he crouched and jumped again, a great boost of energy providing him with several feet of vertical aerial advance. His eyes were unfocused and red from the tears and the nerves, but his sight locked onto Metal Man as he yelled on top of his lungs:
-"YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME DOWN YET!! Concierto, Forma de Hacha!"
Following this proclamation, a strange scene played itself, seemingly in slow-motion: the crescent tip of the golden staff rearranged itself in such a manner that it was an inverse-U shape, and the staff's upper half split in half with a mechanical ripple, allowing the crescent bulk to lower itself to about 3/4 of the staff's length. Shifting with more mechanic glory, the ruby orb at the tip also descended with the mass, leaving the top itself bare with the golden metal. At the sides of where the crescent mass had descended, more changes started to occur, forcing the mass to expand and flatten itself on either side until the staff was no longer such, but rather a medium-sized, double-bladed axe. The ruby orb located at the center of the blades shone a bright crimson color, the magic bullet chamber located just below it.
Gripping this new form of weapon high above his head, the red sphere glowed with the words Spiral Ostinato, and using the weight of the weapon and the boost of the move to his advantage, Amrick swung around. And around. And around. And around. And around. "Rrrraaaaaaagh!" Attempting to use centrifugal force to boost the blunt impact of his weapon, he started to descend, each swing and twist bringing him closer to the metal man and, perhaps, closer to his own impending doom... the rain, the city, the rocks, the energy-- he wasn't thinking anymore. He just wanted to get out of here.
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Metal Man
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The man stood for a moment, seemingly dismayed. However, the vile presence inside the man's arm scanned the host's memories. And so the Metal Man touched a very old compartment on his right hip.
The plate opened up and shot out a staff of sorts. The Man grabbed it and held it aloft: a blazingly brilliant axe with a white energy blade appeared from it, an artifact from a long ago quest the man had in another dimension. It was a very large axe, especially since the Man had the power to heft it. What was strange, however, was the ease with which he held it now.
The staff knew not to try to posess it; this massive battle-axe was enchanted by itself, and so it worked in concert, giving Metal Man the strength to hold the silver-handled, white-energy bladed axe in a much more competent manner than before. Of course, it was still just a man holding an axe. With a mage with a medium sized axe about to slash him in two, if he didn't react.
He reared back, the shiny armor plates glistening sickly in the mottled darkness. The blindingly bright axe moved with him; and when his foe entered range, he swung forward with all his might.
KLANGGGG!!!
Both axes hit, making a deep metallic resonance. It appeared this man was an axe user, too. He was a little out of practice, and such, was knocked slightly back by a blow he should have deflected entirely, but, that was life. The monstrous unholy presence in his wrist device was infuriated by this; so, like clockwork, the man stood straight again, his stance only somewhat effected by that wrenching maneuver.
Something was quite amiss this time. He did not speak in the unholy voice. The man glanced to his axe, and then smirked, speaking. "It appears my old axe also protects my sanity. Unfortunately, now I and the presence in my wrist have decided to work together!"
That would come as a big setback to the mage, as the Man of Steel swung his axe ferociously at his foe's ample neck. Naturally, it would be met by a parry from the other axe, but the weight being hurled around--wait a minute. The energy blade didn't weigh much. That meant... *SWOOSH* too late. He had been miming the heaviness of it all, and now that his foe was nearby, he suddenly began swinging the pole with enchanted energy blades on the end around like it was made out of foam.
Still yet, his foe could parry them all--but the whiplash from each attack, and the speed (a speed much higher than one could get holding a normal axe suited to their size such as the mage's) would prove to be formidible. This and the improved form of a now more unified Metal Man threatened his foe in an even more dire manner!
However, the orange thing on his wrist was now sparking furiously, and re-introducing Metal Man's mind to the equation had also brought along the fatigue from earlier. Slowly, but imperceptibly, he would begin to tire... and it would eventually be a great problem.
But of course, his foe had to survive the energy axe of death round first!!!
The plate opened up and shot out a staff of sorts. The Man grabbed it and held it aloft: a blazingly brilliant axe with a white energy blade appeared from it, an artifact from a long ago quest the man had in another dimension. It was a very large axe, especially since the Man had the power to heft it. What was strange, however, was the ease with which he held it now.
The staff knew not to try to posess it; this massive battle-axe was enchanted by itself, and so it worked in concert, giving Metal Man the strength to hold the silver-handled, white-energy bladed axe in a much more competent manner than before. Of course, it was still just a man holding an axe. With a mage with a medium sized axe about to slash him in two, if he didn't react.
He reared back, the shiny armor plates glistening sickly in the mottled darkness. The blindingly bright axe moved with him; and when his foe entered range, he swung forward with all his might.
KLANGGGG!!!
Both axes hit, making a deep metallic resonance. It appeared this man was an axe user, too. He was a little out of practice, and such, was knocked slightly back by a blow he should have deflected entirely, but, that was life. The monstrous unholy presence in his wrist device was infuriated by this; so, like clockwork, the man stood straight again, his stance only somewhat effected by that wrenching maneuver.
Something was quite amiss this time. He did not speak in the unholy voice. The man glanced to his axe, and then smirked, speaking. "It appears my old axe also protects my sanity. Unfortunately, now I and the presence in my wrist have decided to work together!"
That would come as a big setback to the mage, as the Man of Steel swung his axe ferociously at his foe's ample neck. Naturally, it would be met by a parry from the other axe, but the weight being hurled around--wait a minute. The energy blade didn't weigh much. That meant... *SWOOSH* too late. He had been miming the heaviness of it all, and now that his foe was nearby, he suddenly began swinging the pole with enchanted energy blades on the end around like it was made out of foam.
Still yet, his foe could parry them all--but the whiplash from each attack, and the speed (a speed much higher than one could get holding a normal axe suited to their size such as the mage's) would prove to be formidible. This and the improved form of a now more unified Metal Man threatened his foe in an even more dire manner!
However, the orange thing on his wrist was now sparking furiously, and re-introducing Metal Man's mind to the equation had also brought along the fatigue from earlier. Slowly, but imperceptibly, he would begin to tire... and it would eventually be a great problem.
But of course, his foe had to survive the energy axe of death round first!!!
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
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- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2007 8:30 pm
- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
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A silent streak of white lightning once again lit the darkened skies of the somber city, illuminating the crushed visage of what was once that legendary metropolis. However, the strange beauty one could admire here paled in comparison to the sheer impressiveness one would be drawn into, as you would say, in watching the epic struggle that was taking place in the streets below. Every crack in the wall was illuminated not by the thunder of above, but the sparks that flew from every clash of metal with metal. Every piece of debris was torn asunder by the raw energies that the impacts released, even going as far as forcefully pushing the rusted car husks away from the combatants' positions. And within the obscure alleyways, under the cover of the clouded sky, only three things were discernible: the white glow of Metal Man's axe, the red shine of Amrick's energy orb, and the multicolored sparks that flew with each hit.
*Blam! Blam! Blam! Ka-blang! Bam! Blang! Bam! Ka-blang!*
The young magic knight's face was riddled with a mixture of sweat, blood and rainwater, various parts of his torn clothing sharing the same status. His arms grasped tightly to the artifact golden staff turned axe, he managed the weapon with a strange grace: for every hit the metallic enemy delivered, he would use the force of the impact to twist, twirl and spin the axe around, grasping it again with both hands to force-block the next blow. The trade between hits seemed as it would continue forever and ever, every step brought forward and back bringing the axes together once more. Dancing was never this exciting, for certain-- nor was it this... dangerous. Both players were locked in a temporal stalemate, one that was slowly balancing towards the metal enemy with every swing.
The twin beaten boots of the magic knight skid back over the blasted concrete as he blocked a particularly strong over thrust, and he winced at the numbness of his own hands. A distinct chill crippled his fingers as he reacted to every move of the steel man, but he didn't know how much he could keep this up. The bruises in his body began to itch, and his vision became blurry due to the excess water dripping down his hair coupled with the extreme tension. Still amidst all these shortcomings he saw his opponent, every flash of white, every clashing resonance, he heard it-- followed it with his senses and instincts. He was hardly fighting on his own anymore, but rather leaving his opponent to do the fighting for him.
Which was probably the reason he did what he did next: the ruby orb glowed with an eerie crimson light, and the words Lost Encore: Fermata Reduction materialized on black, bold lettering. On cue, several small hatches opened and closed quickly all over the staff, letting out accumulated steam, and without as much of a further warning, a blazing blue energy field surrounded the entirety of the axe-- not as a shield, but as a barrier. *BANG!* With an explosive sound and burst of invisible energy, he pushed Metal Man a step back. *BANG!* Then again. *BANG!* Then again. Every single time he held the staff horizontally towards him and simply blasting away at the enemy without as much as a second thought. This was far from the counter method of earlier on-- it was a full-blown assault of concentrated energy bursts, each of them aiming to leave a new dent or crack in the hunter's armor.
Amrick was no different from a cornered animal at this point: with no way to escape, his mind crippled by the visage that was such a strong of an opponent, and the beaten body held together by the tension of the situation and a desire to live, who was to say how this would eventually finish?
*Blam! Blam! Blam! Ka-blang! Bam! Blang! Bam! Ka-blang!*
The young magic knight's face was riddled with a mixture of sweat, blood and rainwater, various parts of his torn clothing sharing the same status. His arms grasped tightly to the artifact golden staff turned axe, he managed the weapon with a strange grace: for every hit the metallic enemy delivered, he would use the force of the impact to twist, twirl and spin the axe around, grasping it again with both hands to force-block the next blow. The trade between hits seemed as it would continue forever and ever, every step brought forward and back bringing the axes together once more. Dancing was never this exciting, for certain-- nor was it this... dangerous. Both players were locked in a temporal stalemate, one that was slowly balancing towards the metal enemy with every swing.
The twin beaten boots of the magic knight skid back over the blasted concrete as he blocked a particularly strong over thrust, and he winced at the numbness of his own hands. A distinct chill crippled his fingers as he reacted to every move of the steel man, but he didn't know how much he could keep this up. The bruises in his body began to itch, and his vision became blurry due to the excess water dripping down his hair coupled with the extreme tension. Still amidst all these shortcomings he saw his opponent, every flash of white, every clashing resonance, he heard it-- followed it with his senses and instincts. He was hardly fighting on his own anymore, but rather leaving his opponent to do the fighting for him.
Which was probably the reason he did what he did next: the ruby orb glowed with an eerie crimson light, and the words Lost Encore: Fermata Reduction materialized on black, bold lettering. On cue, several small hatches opened and closed quickly all over the staff, letting out accumulated steam, and without as much of a further warning, a blazing blue energy field surrounded the entirety of the axe-- not as a shield, but as a barrier. *BANG!* With an explosive sound and burst of invisible energy, he pushed Metal Man a step back. *BANG!* Then again. *BANG!* Then again. Every single time he held the staff horizontally towards him and simply blasting away at the enemy without as much as a second thought. This was far from the counter method of earlier on-- it was a full-blown assault of concentrated energy bursts, each of them aiming to leave a new dent or crack in the hunter's armor.
Amrick was no different from a cornered animal at this point: with no way to escape, his mind crippled by the visage that was such a strong of an opponent, and the beaten body held together by the tension of the situation and a desire to live, who was to say how this would eventually finish?
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Metal Man
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The energy blasts kept on coming and coming. The axe couldn't block them, it wasn't solid enough. Metal Man's armor would be destroyed if it kept taking them. He didn't particularly want to walk too close and take more of this abuse, but the slave-master in his left arm refused. He raised his left arm, his axe above his head. The axe floated above him, so he could hold both fists into the air freely. They trembled furiously as orange power glowed from them. His shrill voice yelled into the crisp darkness of the night.
"OMNIS FINIS!"
The ground rumbled deeply. The energy blasts kept on coming. But the increased rage and energy in the Metal Man was to be concerned about. A blast came right for him as usual; he thrust a hand out, and suddenly it was rendered visible; an orb of energy, compressed. The man crushed it violently, blowing it up and taking the cover off his right hand as well, revealing sinewy servos and frightening metal joints.
Another blast came. He grabbed it too, ripping it to shreds despite the damage it did to him. He snarled with a rictus so sharp he bit his lip and drew blood. The skeletal robotic fingers were now in their element. He stepped forward. The third blast didn't get it so lucky--he punched it to pieces. He soon gained more confidence, and the anger subsided, as he walked towards his cornered target. He soon dropped his fists. Sure, the blasts damaged his shiny armor, but he didn't care.
He was within punching distance now. He wasn't being phased enough or damaged fast enough to stop him in his tracks. He just stared down at his foe like he was the most pathetic little thing he had ever seen.
He whispered ever so softly, in the most creepy manner. "I can make all your worries go away... I can make all the problems in your life end... all you have to do is let go of your false ambitions... you will never stop me... for I am tied to this plane by a dark intelligence... one far more ancient than you or me... if you kill me it will gain full control of my body.. .and ensure neither of us live again... so if you value your god or your world, give in..."
The thing on his arm couldn't hear this. It assumed this to be normal for warriors to do. Instead it snapped the axe into Metal Man's skeletal arms, and then gathered about it a putrid orange glow. The blade extended several sizes wider, to the point of potentially slicing buildings, and he rose the axe over his head, ready to slice.
"I know cornered beings well. I delight in their screams as I slice them to pieces. Go ahead and destroy my host's body. I want to live again... in YOUR body!"
He laughed. And stood there. It was a bizarre, paradoxical moment. His foe could attack again and practically gut the Metal Man.
But doing so would give the evil presence possessing him a free target. And that target would be him. Unlike Metal Man, he didn't have armor to protect him from full possession. Or a mind suited for pure insanity. He could win and lose simultaneously if he wasn't careful. And if he didn't choose to surrender outright, he might just be sliced in two.
Even though it was neither Metal Man nor his possessing spirit's choice, they had managed to do the most damage to their foe... purely by giving a seemingly unavoidable dillemma.
"OMNIS FINIS!"
The ground rumbled deeply. The energy blasts kept on coming. But the increased rage and energy in the Metal Man was to be concerned about. A blast came right for him as usual; he thrust a hand out, and suddenly it was rendered visible; an orb of energy, compressed. The man crushed it violently, blowing it up and taking the cover off his right hand as well, revealing sinewy servos and frightening metal joints.
Another blast came. He grabbed it too, ripping it to shreds despite the damage it did to him. He snarled with a rictus so sharp he bit his lip and drew blood. The skeletal robotic fingers were now in their element. He stepped forward. The third blast didn't get it so lucky--he punched it to pieces. He soon gained more confidence, and the anger subsided, as he walked towards his cornered target. He soon dropped his fists. Sure, the blasts damaged his shiny armor, but he didn't care.
He was within punching distance now. He wasn't being phased enough or damaged fast enough to stop him in his tracks. He just stared down at his foe like he was the most pathetic little thing he had ever seen.
He whispered ever so softly, in the most creepy manner. "I can make all your worries go away... I can make all the problems in your life end... all you have to do is let go of your false ambitions... you will never stop me... for I am tied to this plane by a dark intelligence... one far more ancient than you or me... if you kill me it will gain full control of my body.. .and ensure neither of us live again... so if you value your god or your world, give in..."
The thing on his arm couldn't hear this. It assumed this to be normal for warriors to do. Instead it snapped the axe into Metal Man's skeletal arms, and then gathered about it a putrid orange glow. The blade extended several sizes wider, to the point of potentially slicing buildings, and he rose the axe over his head, ready to slice.
"I know cornered beings well. I delight in their screams as I slice them to pieces. Go ahead and destroy my host's body. I want to live again... in YOUR body!"
He laughed. And stood there. It was a bizarre, paradoxical moment. His foe could attack again and practically gut the Metal Man.
But doing so would give the evil presence possessing him a free target. And that target would be him. Unlike Metal Man, he didn't have armor to protect him from full possession. Or a mind suited for pure insanity. He could win and lose simultaneously if he wasn't careful. And if he didn't choose to surrender outright, he might just be sliced in two.
Even though it was neither Metal Man nor his possessing spirit's choice, they had managed to do the most damage to their foe... purely by giving a seemingly unavoidable dillemma.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
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Trickster-kun
- Member
- Posts: 105
- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2007 8:30 pm
- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
- Contact:
The End.
OOC: [It's been a pleasure to do this battle with you, Metal Man-- however, this is where I must take my leave. As I'm sure you'll agree, there are very little choices left for my character to take, and even if I could extend the battle by at least one or two more posts, it just wouldn't feel right to override the circumstances in that way. That, and my posting deadline is too close for comfort. <_< Once again, thanks for accepting this battle, and I do hope that we can butt heads again a few months from now.
]
----------------
The dark skies rumbled with a furious lightning flash, illuminating the massive destruction that the streets had endured at the clash of magic and metal: on one side, the crippled visage of the steel hunter held within his grasp an impossibly large weapon that appeared capable of rendering the very earth itself into a clean half. On the other side stood the beaten, bloodied sight of the humanoid Amrick Ukihara, grasping with numbed fingers the artifact golden staff that so miraculously stayed intact through the whole ordeal. Both warriors seemed to be at an hour's worth of a standstill, bloodshot silver eyes locked on the impending disaster that loomed above his diminished frame. His knees buckled involuntarily, forcing him to collapse and fall to his knees before the iron behemoth, his aspect still holding a manner of defiance even between the overwhelming feeling of Metal Man's power and his own fierce, primal desire to live.
What holds you back in this world, anyway?
A soft whisper spoke to the back of his mind as he looked without observing, and heard without listening. As opposed to Metal Man's downright creepy approach, the nondescript voice was smooth yet firm, something close to a mother's tone when scolding her child for the first time. Amrick's eyes glazed for a moment, by the time his enemy spoke about bodies and pieces.
You brought this unto yourself, Amrick Ukihara. You knew better than to steal such a valuable Lost Logia such as Concierto, and yet you did it anyway. You succumbed to the power it offered, and how its resonance was strongest with you, an SS ranked Magic Knight. Now you see how important the relic was to the Time/Space Administration Bureau, that they sent such a dangerous man to hunt you down?
It was a strange feeling: even as time lapsed on, and another streak of white lightning lit the skies once again, the voice carried on. There was no 'before' or no 'after', but only the 'now'-- an infinitesimal pause which seemed to last, as perceived by the magic knight, a true eternity.
The power of the Lost Logia is not something you could play with at a whim without expecting a consequence, Amrick Ukihara. Yet you ran away with it as soon as you retrieved it from that faraway realm, knowing that the Bureau would *force* you to use its power for their own personal agenda. A noble cause as it may be, the fact is that you are carrying one of the most powerful magical artifacts of recent history, and the Bureau wants it back. You gave a splendid fight... but it's time to surrender.
No.
-"No." Amrick spoke loudly over the sound of the cloudy sky and the howl of the wind gusts. "You won't take me." In a motion so fast and strong it was a wonder he could pull it off, he raised the golden staff-axe, directing its tip right in front of Metal Man's chest. "You won't take me." he repeated, louder this time. He grasped his right forearm with his left, the distance between both entities diminishing with a single step. The ruby orb reacted to its user's motions, displaying the words Apocalypse Finale.
-"CHASE ME IN THE AFTERLIFE!!" he pushed the axe forward.
...
There was nothing. No sound. No wind. No darkness. Only light.
The light of the end.
OOC: [It's been a pleasure to do this battle with you, Metal Man-- however, this is where I must take my leave. As I'm sure you'll agree, there are very little choices left for my character to take, and even if I could extend the battle by at least one or two more posts, it just wouldn't feel right to override the circumstances in that way. That, and my posting deadline is too close for comfort. <_< Once again, thanks for accepting this battle, and I do hope that we can butt heads again a few months from now.
]----------------
The dark skies rumbled with a furious lightning flash, illuminating the massive destruction that the streets had endured at the clash of magic and metal: on one side, the crippled visage of the steel hunter held within his grasp an impossibly large weapon that appeared capable of rendering the very earth itself into a clean half. On the other side stood the beaten, bloodied sight of the humanoid Amrick Ukihara, grasping with numbed fingers the artifact golden staff that so miraculously stayed intact through the whole ordeal. Both warriors seemed to be at an hour's worth of a standstill, bloodshot silver eyes locked on the impending disaster that loomed above his diminished frame. His knees buckled involuntarily, forcing him to collapse and fall to his knees before the iron behemoth, his aspect still holding a manner of defiance even between the overwhelming feeling of Metal Man's power and his own fierce, primal desire to live.
What holds you back in this world, anyway?
A soft whisper spoke to the back of his mind as he looked without observing, and heard without listening. As opposed to Metal Man's downright creepy approach, the nondescript voice was smooth yet firm, something close to a mother's tone when scolding her child for the first time. Amrick's eyes glazed for a moment, by the time his enemy spoke about bodies and pieces.
You brought this unto yourself, Amrick Ukihara. You knew better than to steal such a valuable Lost Logia such as Concierto, and yet you did it anyway. You succumbed to the power it offered, and how its resonance was strongest with you, an SS ranked Magic Knight. Now you see how important the relic was to the Time/Space Administration Bureau, that they sent such a dangerous man to hunt you down?
It was a strange feeling: even as time lapsed on, and another streak of white lightning lit the skies once again, the voice carried on. There was no 'before' or no 'after', but only the 'now'-- an infinitesimal pause which seemed to last, as perceived by the magic knight, a true eternity.
The power of the Lost Logia is not something you could play with at a whim without expecting a consequence, Amrick Ukihara. Yet you ran away with it as soon as you retrieved it from that faraway realm, knowing that the Bureau would *force* you to use its power for their own personal agenda. A noble cause as it may be, the fact is that you are carrying one of the most powerful magical artifacts of recent history, and the Bureau wants it back. You gave a splendid fight... but it's time to surrender.
No.
-"No." Amrick spoke loudly over the sound of the cloudy sky and the howl of the wind gusts. "You won't take me." In a motion so fast and strong it was a wonder he could pull it off, he raised the golden staff-axe, directing its tip right in front of Metal Man's chest. "You won't take me." he repeated, louder this time. He grasped his right forearm with his left, the distance between both entities diminishing with a single step. The ruby orb reacted to its user's motions, displaying the words Apocalypse Finale.
-"CHASE ME IN THE AFTERLIFE!!" he pushed the axe forward.
...
There was nothing. No sound. No wind. No darkness. Only light.
The light of the end.
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Metal Man
- Member
- Posts: 17964
- Joined: Sun Apr 23, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
- Contact:
OOC: Yes, a very good battle, one of the better ones I've had. I thank you for actually going through a full battle with me; this is difficult to achieve with most people. I shall await a chance to fight again. I figure you would be worthy of a less insane Metal Man; much more strategy to throw there. Though this served me well...
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.