FKL Tournament:Prologue Round 5: Ian vs. Ronin

[Sord]

Warning: Brackets really do contain spoilers
[spoiler-box]http://i195.photobucket.com/albums/z121/feisord/Bracket5.jpg[/spoiler-box]

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Salome vs. Priest

Salome glanced down at the picture she was holding in her hand. She had been contracted to kill the young man in the photo. He was of average height, his long hair pulled into a pony-tail and some glasses sitting a little lower on his nose than normal. He was dressed in typical clothing, a blue shirt and some black pants; a long coat draped over his shoulders. He didn’t appear armed, but she had been told he carried a claw with long, straight steel blades in his coat.She glanced up and saw the man sitting on a city-park bench, she had found him. It was getting dark and the area was already mostly empty. Salome reached down to her belt and grabbed a long red veil among several other ones, each differently colored. They were tied on to hoops that were spaced evenly around a belt, creating soft colorful patterns that formed around her when she walked, like a dress of many pieces and hues. She wrapped the red veil around her neck like a scarf, letting either end settle gently on each side of her bosom, outlining her endowment’s lush figure. She could smell the fragrant magic seep out of the scarf, ready and eager to tempt any man to her. She slowly sauntered up to her target, the man her client had called Priest. With each step she gave a subtle but powerful sway of the hips, sauntering seductively to the man. She sat down beside Priest and glanced at him with a smile. She could already see signs he had become interested even though he had not looked directly at her. The sudden tenseness when a beautiful girl sits beside a man; the slight tightening of the neck muscles; the heavy breaths as he forced his body back into control. She gave him a pleasant greeting, the words rolling off her crimson lips in a smooth sound. He smiled weekly back, staring at her lips, and out of politeness trying not to look down at her highlighted bosom below her beautiful face. Salome began to talk of casual things, asking what the man was reading, discussing how pleasant the day had been. She slowly began to move her hand towards the man, just out of his vision, for his eyes were stuck staring into her own. She inched her hand ever so slowly closer, an unseen cobra slithering in. With a quick flick of her wrist a dagger fell from inside her sleeve and into her hand. She stabbed for the man’s heart. Priest merely let out an “oomph,” then jumped off the bench to the side on reaction to being hit. He had his claw in hand by the time his feet had gained stable ground. Startled by the sudden attack, Priest had fallen out of his lustful daze, his senses quickly rushing back to him. He instantly realized the oddity of the beautiful woman showing up out of no where and conversing with him, and the fact she had tried to kill him. He back peddled a bit, drawing a few thin steel cards from the inner breast pocket of his coat. There was a slight dent in it; his deck of throwing cards had saved his life by shielding his heart from the blow of the dagger. The woman now stood as well, still calm and strangely inviting despite the dagger now in her hand. He threw a card out, but the women merely spun to the side gracefully as it flew by. Expecting the dodge Priest took the opportunity to move in for a slash with his claw, but the woman leaned back with all the nimbleness of a true dancer and the blade swung over her chest. Never stopping, she used the momentum of righting herself to strike at Priest. Priest quickly moved, the dagger catching on the end of his coat and cutting a small tear on itHe waited for another strike from the woman, and then quickly moved. By all appearances, for a brief instant, it seemed he had been pierced by the blade. There was no blood though, and quickly his image faded just as he landed a scarring blow into the woman’s back. He had punched with his daggers, attempting to run the woman through from behind. Salome had bent down as the point of steel pricked her bare back, and while her move was strong enough to save her life, it did not spare her injury. The blades still continued up her back, leaving three long parallel scars. As she leaned forward she also raised a leg up behind her, landing a powerful kick into Priest’s groin. Priest let out a groan and his knees buckled a bit. In that short instance Salome whipped around and slammed her dagger’s blade into his arm. Crying out, Priest attempted to back up, but the woman suddenly flung out her other hand, throwing a dagger from inside her sleeve. It struck Priest in the knee, jamming itself between his femur and the knee cap. He stumbled onto his back, hitting his head. He was dazed, and in the few short seconds before he could recover from it found a gray veil suddenly descending over his vision and he suddenly felt very sleepy. As the veil touched his face the tiredness washed over him, the exhaustion flooding through his body. He fell into it, letting the pain fade into his dreams. When he later awoke, he could hardly tell he had opened his eyes. He was staring into a darkness that failed to be penetrated by any sort of light. He felt a gag taking up the entirety of his mouth. He could feel movement under him, or rather, it felt like he was on something that was moving. His hands and feet were tied, and he was without his coat and weapons. He was on his side, in cramped quarters. Added to the feel of fabric underneath him, he guessed he was in the trunk of a car. After awhile it came to stop, and for a moment his mind panicked. It did not help his mental state when he felt hands grab him and pull him out, dropping him onto what felt like concrete. It did not help when he felt the beatings of a blunt object. It did not help when he felt a knife cutting him randomly on his chest. And it finally did not help when that same knife slit his throat. He heard nothing of the woman as he lay on the cold ground dying. The car did not speed off; he could only guess that she stood watching. Watching as he felt the warm blood drain from his neck, pooling around his face and torso. His mind was screaming that he was going to die, but his body was beaten and broken, his vision blinded, his limbs tied. He could do nothing. Soon, his mind calmed as it suffered from the blood loss. He felt so numb and cold, colder than the concrete underneath him. He was so tired again, more tired than he had ever been. He drifted off into a sleep, and never woke up.


* * *
Later the next day a man was discovered beaten and killed in an alleyway. The man had no ID or wallet on him, no jewelry or any items of value. It was suggested he had been a victim of the common muggings and killings that occurred in this gang heavy area of the city. No one delved into his death; he was just another unknown victim of the city’s crime. His case was quickly opened then closed without much thought.

[Nitro Vordex]

That...was awesome. Easily visiualized and a great read, not to mention the fight.

Awesome, look forward to the next ones. ;o

[astuarlen]

tl;dr



Just kidding.
Even though I obviously have, ah, other reasons to be pleased, I have to agree with Nitro. Good show, chap. I like the more narrative-based, freeform approach here. Hope you'll be continuing it with the other fights. Deathmatch style is fun, but this is a nice change of pace.

[Nai_Calus]

Mmm, deliciously creepy.

[Nitro Vordex]

Since the spoiler actually (supposedly) contains spoilers *GASP*, is it safe to say they tell who is fighting who?

[Sord]

Since the spoiler actually (supposedly) contains spoilers *GASP*, is it safe to say they tell who is fighting who?

yes, that's not really the spoiler though, the spoiler would be looking at it before you read the match, as it will reveal who won the latest match, which if you're looking and reading for the first time, really wouldn't want.

[Sord]

Nitro vs. Shligger

Nitro bobbed his head to the sound of the beats playing from his headphones, keeping in time with its funky rhythms. His long, brown curly hair bounced with each motion. He was working out to the music, lifting large dumbbells that looked far too heavy for his average frame. He was built more or less like any other teenager, though a bit leaner perhaps.He frequently visited this gym to train and work out. It was rather run down and somewhat dingy. Lining one wall were some mirrors, they were kind of fogged and unclean, but they helped spread what little light the gym contained. The walls were of a faded brown wood, its finish worn down long ago; the floor was a thin, worn grey carpet. The place was run by an old man who didn’t much care for the place and was just trying to eke any money he could from it. The equipment was old as well, and was some of the most basic of sorts. Various dumbbells lay on a rack, a bench press over near a corner, a couple punching bags on the other side of the room. As such the old man didn’t have many rules, as long as you didn’t break something he didn’t care to much what you did. As a result Nitro was able to bring in his staff, a special redwood pole with a seventy-pound steel head on its end. So long as he trained with it and didn’t mess around with anyone, the old man didn’t care. The heavy end of the staff was also the reason Nitro always came to work out here, no normal man could wield it easily without thoroughly working out to be able to handle the weight. Despite the music in his headphones, Nitro heard a small ringing as someone entered through the gym door. The door always knocked a small overhanging little bell to alert anyone that someone had come in. The guy who walked in had to be new, Nitro never saw many people here, and the ones he did see were either penny pinchers or old members. He could only guess this man was the latter of the two. The man was fairly tall and very broad shouldered. His hair was long and spiky, and had an odd bright blue hue. He wore a black trench coat, but he soon took this off and chucked it onto the bench press. Underneath the trench coat the man wore a basic black tank top and pants, with an odd mechanical silver and yellow glove on his right hand. Mounds of ripped muscle covered his body. Veins bulged in a few places, and stretch marks were prominent everywhere. Nitro made a good guess that this man had to be using steroids. As the man walked over to the punching bag Nitro greeted him casually, asking for his name. The man grunted “Shligger,” gave a wicked grin, and began to pound into the punching bag. For a moment nothing happened between the two, Nitro kept lifting dumbbells and Shligger kept pounding on the bag, every now and then giving Nitro an intimidating smile. Finally Nitro set down his dumbbells and wondered over to the bench press. At the same time, Shligger moved to the dumbbells and intentionally picked up two bigger ones than Nitro had, just to continue trying to be intimidating. Nitro moved to grab the man’s coat off the bench press and chuck it in the corner, annoyed with this new guy who insisted on being an irritable dick. Before he could lay his hands on it though, a dumbbell whizzed by his head and smacked into the wall, blowing a hole into the next room. Nitro swore, “Fuck, what the hell was that for?” Shligger just growled back, “Don’t touch my coat.” Shligger look pissed as hell for no reason; some veins bulging on his forehead and his mouth turned into a snarling grimace. Nitro could only guess once again it was steroids. The so called roid rage probably. Regardless, he sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to some asshole who decided to walk in and bust up his haunt. He grabbed the coat and threw it to the side, ignoring Shligger’s threat. Shligger roared and hurled another dumbbell at Nitro before attempting to charge him. Nitro ducked the expected dumbbell and quickly moved across the room to grab his staff lying against the wall. He turned around quickly to smash the side of Shligger’s head with it. Shligger tried to stop but couldn’t get out of the way, he managed to turn a bit with the swing, but the blow still hit his head hard. Even in his rage his ears were ringing from it. This served to just further piss Shligger off though, and as he regained his senses he saw Nitro’s staff now had green fire burning on its end. Nitro jabbed at Shligger with his staff, despite being to far away to hit Shligger with it physically. To Shligger's surprise a plume of green flame shot from the fire at him a short distance, knocking into his chest. It singed through his tank top and felt like a minor burn on his skin. Angry, but not completely stupid, Shligger didn’t bother to charge again. He ran back over to the dumbbell rack and began hurling the weights at Nitro. Nitro dodged back and forth, trying to direct plumes of flame at Shligger in between throws but failing to do so. He hoped he could outlast the short supply of weights. Each one burst through the old wooden walls behind him with sickening thuds. He didn’t want to know what it would feel like to have it hit his bones. Unfortunately, he learned. One of the dumbbells clipped his shoulder, and he dropped his staff as the pain jarred him. Shligger charged in again, slamming Nitro into the wall as he just got his hands around his staff. Stunned from the impact, Nitro felt his staff ripped from his hands, and then slammed into his sides. He fell to the ground rolling. As he looked up Nitro watched Shligger snap the wooden staff over his leg with ease, then chuck both pieces toward him. Nitro rolled, escaping the two halves, his eyes widening as the metal tipped one buried itself into the ground. He grimaced from the agonizing pain of what were probably a few broken ribs and a busted shoulder, but still took a position on all fours. Shligger charged at him again, but suddenly Nitro was awash in a green flame that quickly exploded outwards with great a force. Shligger was blown backwards a few feet and onto his rear. Emerging from the flame was a fox, emerald fire burning around the black claws and leaving thin trails of dark green smoke. The fox snarled and lunged at Shligger. Shligger managed to catch it by the head, but could not stop the claws from raking into his chest. It burned deeply; the scars would undoubtedly be second degree at the least. Shligger managed to twist the fox’s head just enough so it had to move to avoid having its neck snapped, and Shligger took the chance to throw it off his body. Shligger quickly rolled, heading for the portion of the staff with the metal head that was sticking up out of the ground. He grabbed it, pulling it out as he rolled, and threw it at Nitro as the fox made another pounce. The staff slammed into the fox’s head, breaking through its face and mouth and bursting out the backside of its skull. There was a spray of blood and a few chunks of bone and skin as the staff broke through the other side. Nitro was dead, his fox skull bashed in on itself, killed instantly by the force of the blow shattering his skull inward upon his own brain. None the less, Shligger was still enraged. He got up and began to kick the fox corpse around as he slowly calmed down. When he was finally done, Shligger put a hand to his ripped up chest. It hurt badly now that the adrenaline was no longer surging through him. The flesh was ripped and burned, a few strips hanging from his torso. Still, he grinned, he had beaten another fighter; he had won again in combat. He looked down at the fox near his feet. The corpse was fairly mangled, many of its bones broken and a few sticking out at odd ends. Shligger quickly glanced around for his trench coat, grabbed it, and headed out.
Unknown to him, the only new thing that was ever put into this old building had watched him the whole time. A security cam had caught the whole thing on tape, and its owner was not going to be happy to see his building ruined…


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I did not like this chapter very much. The characters just seemed bland to me in my head somehow.

[Out_Kast]

Talk about a gory death... :wacko:

[Nitro Vordex]

Baw. ;_;

Bah, I still liked it.

Although, I should had been more specific: the staff was double tipped.
Oh well, still cool. :wacko:

[Nitro Vordex]

Sad bump. *slight kick*

;~;

[Sord]

heh

I'll probably work on Ian and Tal's tonight, it's so dull this late. I actually wrote that hours before possting it, I just wanted to give the other chapter some time.

[Nitro Vordex]

*places money on Tal*

Yeah, I don't know why either. *shrugs*

[Sgt_Shligger]

I'm betting on Ian. It's like he's part of the X-men or something.

[Nitro Vordex]

^Sent the Hulk after me, have you no shame? >:U

[Sord]

With a swift kick to the rear, Tal found his self hitting the ground outside the T4V3RN.

“And stay out, you damn kitsune!” Ian stood at the door of his T4V3RN, having just kicked out Tal for insulting his dice. He looked down on the fox boy, an average teenager dressed in a red coat dominating his mostly black clothed body. His difference from the normal kids being the fact he had long black hair and bushy black tail to match, both with white tips on their ends. Oh, and don’t forget the gun, katana, and sword on his waist. No teenage fox boy would ever be complete without those. Tal glared angrily at Ian, owner of the T4V3RN and self proclaimed god of dice. With equally long curly brown hair, a set of glasses on his nose, black clothing with a shirt sporting a Rati and skin that shone with the paleness of the freaking moon, his very essence screamed of nerd.
“Pah, what’s so filthy about kitsunes?” Tal growled.

“Fleas,” Nai spat with venom in his voice. He turned around to walk back inside his T4V3RN, only to find a grenade flying over his shoulder and through the doorway. With a widening of the eyes, Ian spun back around and tried to dart outside, but as the grenade bounced on the ground it went off. Ian was flung through the air out of his own T4V3RN, landing face first in the coarse barren dirt. Debris from the tavern exploded outward as well, littering the street with wood, tankards, and a few charred character sheets.
Tal jeered at Nai, “Ha! Who’s the dirty one now!?”

“You fucking vermin, my dice were in there! You’re dead!” Ian screamed as he stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dice. They quickly multiplied in his hand, one growing out of another, interlocking in strange tessellating patterns. The dice rapidly expanded their number outward to form a thick longsword, its edges lined with sharpened d8s like the teeth of a chainsaw. Ian charged Tal wildly, bringing a downward slash upon him. Tal quickly moved to un-sheath his katana, parrying the blow before Ian’s sword could rip into his skull. Tal back stepped, attempting to draw the mechgun from his waist to fire a volley of bullets, but Ian continued to be on the offensive, moving forward and attempting to deliver another blow. Tal managed to barely make another parry, but this time their swords remained locked. They fought with their weight for a moment, each attempting to push the other back and open a hole in their defense. Finally Tal just dropped his guard and spun to the side, leaving Ian to swing downward and stumble forward. Tal took the opportunity to set his sword ablaze with blue fox-fire and sent out a fury of slashes at Ian. Ian could only fend his self, managing to block the blows but being pushed back. Tal continued to ferociously swing his katana, the attacks getting more powerful with each swing. The blue fire on Tal’s sword grew, blazing stronger and brighter, until with a final slash Tal swung forward and the flames shot forward with it. Ian was blown backwards a few feet and slammed into the wall of the blown up T4V3RN next to the doorway. Tal pulled out his mechgun and attempted to fire a few shots. Ian jumped to the side and retreated back into the TA4V3RN, a few bullets painfully grazing the back of his shoulders. Ian quickly ran across the room, flinging a pouch full of sharpened d4 behind him, so that they littered the floor like caltrops. Ian dived over a counter, dropping down behind it. He let his sword collapse back into itself, the dice seeming to fall into one another in strange geometrical patterns until it was merely a few dice again. He put them in his pocket and pulled out a different set. This set quickly grew into a longbow, nearly equal to Ian’s own height. Some of the dice clung to his chest, growing around him and grouping in the back, forming a quiver filled with arrows that were tipped with sharpened d8s. Ian glanced through a hole left in the counter from the grenade, spying Tal walk into the T4V3RN. It looked like Tal noticed the d4s, as he was shuffling his feet rather than taking steps. Ian frowned; this was going to be tough. He notched an arrow, still crouching. He quickly stood, drew, and fired in the general direction of Tal. Tal fired his mechgun at Ian just as Ian let his arrow fly. The arrow managed to pierce Tal in his side, and the mechgun bullets pelted into Ian’s face and chest, breaking one of the lenses in his glasses. Ian gave out a quick yell in pain. The photons weren’t strong enough to pierce, but the bullets burnt him badly. He no doubt had lost what already little sight he had in his left eye. Tal didn’t receive any better, in the confusion of being pierced through by an arrow, he forgot to shuffle, and instead took a step. One of the caltrops pierced his foot. Tal let out a hurt cry and hopped back, only to step on another one. Having one foot in the air already, and the other one step on a d4 as well, Tal had nowhere to go but down. He fell, his back slamming down on several more caltrops. He let out a howl of pain as each one pierced into his back. Ian, badly burnt but still able, hopped over the counter and ran towards Tal, grabbing an arrow from his quiver. Being the master of dice, the d4 on the floor moved away from him wherever he stepped, letting him through. Ian let his self fall onto Tal, burying the arrow into his chest between the ribs before Tal could recover his self off the floor. Tal let out a yell and tried to thrash at Ian, but was pinned by the arrow. Moving quickly Ian grabbed another d20 from his pocket and slammed it into Tal’s mouth, holding his hand over it. The die quickly multiplied inside Tal’s mouth, expanding downward and in his throat. Realizing what was happening; Tal thrashed harder, clawing and hitting Ian. But Ian held his hand firm, and the dice continued to spread until Tal’s throat bulged. He chocked for a brief moment, but was soon met with all too much air as the dice burst through his neck. Blood splattered onto Ian’s arm, adding to what was already covering his shirt and pants from Tal’s arrow wounds. He frowned at the sight, but at least Tal was done for. Ian got up to go look at his self in a mirror. He was a mess, the left lens of his glasses blown in and his eye burnt to uselessness. His shirt was pockmarked with further photon burns, blisters starting to form on his skin. He grimaced, this was going to take time to heal, and shooting a bow with no depth perception was going to be a bitch. Grumbling in pain, he stumbled back into the T4V3RN’s main room, grabbing some tea off the counter. He walked over and sat heavily on Tal’s stomach, causing a few dice to shoot up out of his throat. Ian took a long sip of tea, looked down at the dead kitsune, his self, and the destroyed T4V3RN, and grimaced again.
“Fucking CLAMP”

[Nitro Vordex]

Ha! My death was better. :wacko:

[TalHex]

good fight but some how i knew i wouldn't end up winning, damn karma

[Nitro Vordex]

Did you flip a coin or something for this Sord?

or are you playing favorites, goddamn towel

[TalHex]

probably flipped a coin, karma is a real bitch to me, when its a 50/50 chance 99% of the time it will be against me :wacko:

[Nitro Vordex]

You could argue that any chance (1/6) is still 50/50 (you get it or you don't).

I suppose 1/10000 you always get the 1 huh? :wacko:

[TalHex]

if the one is something malevolent then yes

[Nai_Calus]

Why I'm wearing the glasses I don't own, the world will never know. :wacko:

(And later, Ian takes Tal's body to a cleric and has him revived, whereupon he immediately stabs Tal through the chest with his sword, killing him AGAIN, because once was not enough.)

Anyways, someone has lost an eye, and it is now CLAMP. *cues ornately drawn wind blowing feathers around*

[TalHex]

isn't that a bit excessive?

[Sord]

Did you flip a coin or something for this Sord?

or are you playing favorites, goddamn towel

no coin, I JUST FELT LIKE SLAUGHTERING KITSUNES

actually in all seriousness, it had to do with 2 things. 1. the character creation, and 2. how people are going to fight in later rounds (which kind of loops back to reason 1.) Wounds will actually be carrying over, and there's some stuff that ties the matches together. For example, it should be rather obvious why shligger and salome will fight next match. To be honest, I kind of liked Tal's set up a bit once I actually started writing the thing, so in respect I at least had him as the superior sword player and also wound Ian fairly badly.

[Nai_Calus]

isn't that a bit excessive?

You put out his/my fucking eye, he's/I'm pissed. :wacko:

[MaximusLight]

You're tournament has to few people, if this keeps up it might actually finish.

[Nai_Calus]

I think that was the idea.

[Sord]

pretty much

[Nitro Vordex]

You're tournament has to few people, if this keeps up it might actually finish.

It'll finish, then no one will speak of it ever again. :wacko:

[TalHex]

ah well it was a good fight so i'm not too disappointed, and i poked out an eye while i was at it :wacko:

[MaximusLight]

None of you understand...
FKL has NEVER finished a tournament before.
NEVER

[Sord]

None of you understand...
FKL has NEVER finished a tournament before.
NEVER

yes it has

[MaximusLight]

yes it has

Really?
Ah well dang...

[Nitro Vordex]

Lol, shows how much you know. :wacko:

[Nai_Calus]

ah well it was a good fight so i'm not too disappointed, and i poked out an eye while i was at it :wacko:

Yeah, I would avoid dice for the rest of my life if I were you.

[astuarlen]

Nice fatality there. Choking on small plastic objects: not just for 3-year-olds anymore!

[TalHex]

sorry dice paranoia has to wait its turn in line, its currently competing with a fucked up version of claustophobia

[Nai_Calus]

Note to self: Talon's soul will be tortured in the afterlife by way of being locked in a small place with razor-sharp dice pressing into him, rolling nothing but critical failures...

[TalHex]

well i already have 1/3 of that right now... and as long as it isn't extremely crowded, extremely dark and a small room i'll be fine, of course if it is i'll probably go insane after the first few hours and i won't know the difference anyway

[Sord]

I'll be leaving for a friend's place tonight, and staying till Friday, I don't expect to get much writing done there, if any at all.

[Nai_Calus]

wat.

Nooo who will I talk to on AIM. :<

[Sord]

just Ian and Nai for a few nights I'm afraid

[TalHex]

i suggest watching the anime paranoia agent for now

[Nai_Calus]

Damn people and their social lives.

I'll probably try to force myself to work on Apollo Justice, or come up with ideas for stuff.

[Sord]

Damn people and their social lives.

I'll probably try to force myself to work on Apollo Justice, or come up with ideas for stuff.

work on campaign

[Nai_Calus]

Yeah, that's what I mean by coming up with ideas for stuff. <_x

[Nitro Vordex]

Bumped.

...It's so quiet...

...me like.

[Sord]

Cooper vs. Bear

Cooper pressed himself against a wall in the ally, his black baggy clothes swirling the dust on the ground due to his sudden halt from running. He breathed heavily, panting. He could feel his short blonde hair slick with sweat sticking to his forehead. He slowly moved his head around the building, braving a glimpse at his pursuer.Had Cooper started to look an instant sooner, he would have found his face smashed into the large Bear as the monolithic man charged passed. The mound of muscle was easily a good six feet tall, with massive triceps on his arms. He wore a loin cloth, some metal chest plating, and a pair of bladed gauntlets on either wrist. He was also very, very hairy. By all accounts he appeared to be a barbarian of sorts. One could only contemplate this man’s existence in modern day. Bear quickly ground to a halt, spinning around to face Cooper. He had seen Cooper’s face just as it was about to look round the corner. Cooper let out a shout and began running back in the direction they had both come from. His sneakers picking up speed as he heard the loud stomps from Bear’s charging behind him. Cooper reached over his shoulder while running, pulling out a long green brush. He held it behind him, pointing at the ground. “Chill blaster!” With a shout from Cooper his brush began to frost on the end, and then shot a beam of translucent blue paint onto the ground, which formed into ice on contact. Within moments Cooper heard a shout and crash behind him as Bear slipped and fell. Ronin spun around, pointing his brush at Bear. “Flame buster!” With another shout, a few blobs of red and orange paint shot off of Ronin’s brush, turning into bright flames as they flew threw the air. The flames pounded into Bear’s stomach, singeing the hair on his body, but otherwise leaving him unphased. Bear let out a roar equal in ferocity to that of the animal he was named after. With a scrunching of the nose at the acrid smell of burning hair, Cooper turned and began to run again. Bear got to his feet and started chasing Cooper again. It was bad enough the rotten little punk had already insulted bears and told him he was a human, but now he dare burn his precious coat?! With another roar Bear picked up speed, gaining on Cooper. Cooper ran as fast as he could down the deserted wasteland roads of FKL, but to no avail. His legs were tiring on him, his courier bag of large brushes weighing heavier on his back with each passing step. Cooper’s feet finally tripped over themselves, and he fell to the ground, skidding forward; some of his brushes falling out. He watched the oncoming Bear, about to come down on him. Ronin grabbed for another brush out of his satchel; a large black calligraphy brush, the heaviest of them all. He drove its end into the ground, just as Bear attempted to fall onto him in a body slam. There was a loud clang as the brush made contact with Bear’s metal chest plate, denting it inward under the force of Bear’s weight being thrown onto the brush. The brush itself did not bend or break, it’s only redeeming attribute being indestructibility. Cooper quickly rolled out from underneath Bear, grabbing the green brush off the ground as he did so. He barely missed being slammed by Bear as the leverage on the brush finally became off center, causing it to shoot out from under Bear like a rocket and allowing the giant to finish his fall to the ground. Bear’s head lie right next to Cooper, so Cooper took the chance to shove the brush end into Bear’s ear as hard as he could. With the last of his energy he screamed, “Spark buster!” If one were to have the ability to see inside Bear’s skull, it would have been an odd sight; a sudden and complete filling of the ears and sinuses with yellow paint, before a sudden dissipation of it and a discharge of thousands of volts of electricity within Bear’s head. They would see the charring and blackening of the skulls internal portions, including the brain, as it was fried point blank. By the time the charge died off, Bear’s head was actually smoking, little wisps coming out of his ears. Ronin collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily, still in shock at this recent turn of events and the sheer luck by which he survived. After a moment his aching body finally felt like moving, and he gathered tiredly gather up his brushes. One thing was for sure, he would never insult a bear again.


-------------------------------------

Finally getting back into the swing of things after my long visit at my friends' place.

[VanHalen]

Ronin won one!

[Sgt_Shligger]

Does this qualify as an upset :wacko:

Not what I expected myself but nice job.

[Sord]

I wasn't as happy with it as I wish I was, but eh well. At least I did the thing.

[astuarlen]

That can't be the Coops; he has no barrels!

[Nitro Vordex]

He draws barrels with the brushes, ast. :)

[Sord]

Shligger vs. Salome

Shligger sat in the second story of a rundown building, somewhere deep in the heart of FKL’s wasteland city; watching an old television that still used an antennae. The place, while looking decent on the outside with its brick exterior, looked like it was about to collapse on the inside. The walls separating rooms were rotted, a few riddled with holes, either from gun shots or fists. The floor creaked with every step of Shligger’s heavy frame, though the mice and bugs seemed to scurry around with silence.Outside Shligger could hear the wail of sirens in the night; a flash of red and blue light scarring the ceiling as the cars drove by underneath the window. On top of the general crime in this derelict and rundown portion of the city, Shligger was being sought after by the law as well. A recent rash of fights, most ending in death, had broken out in gyms around the area. Shligger was responsible for every one, having sought out the strongest looking person in each and then picking a fight with them. He cared only to prove himself in combat, desiring to be the strongest person alive. A shallow and insignificant matter in today’s world, but the steroids had long since deranged his mind, pushing what was once merely a desire be stronger to an obsession to be the best. Currently he was laying low, as the last fight he had gotten into caught him on camera, a rare security precaution for such a poor section of the city. The cops knew he was in the area. On top of this the burns from the searing slashes of his opponent still marred his chest, a constant dull ache residing in them. He would have to lie low for a few days, and places like this were perfect. Shligger never turned the lights on, and the television was always set to a low volume, just barely audible enough to hear the actors talking if you were in the room. He had even set if to face the far wall from the window, so no one could see its light from outside. There were dozens of run down buildings like the one he was in, and the creaking floors would alert him to anyone who decided to enter the building. Presently he heard such a creak, and he became instantly alert. He stood up and walked to the doorway that exited out into the upstairs hallway. The door opened inward, and he presently hid behind it, waiting for the intruder to come and investigate the room. He reached down to his mechanical gauntlet, flipping the switch to activate his Godhand and enjoying the silent rush of power that swept through is body.
Salome examined the rundown building, searching the windows for any signs of life. There were none that she could see, but multiple people had pointed her in this direction. She normally did not like dealing with the police, or the law in general. However, there was a high bounty on her new target’s head. What’s more, the rare allowance of bringing him in dead had been given, without any variation in reward. She had asked (by means of either threats or temptation,) about her target from local residents; gang members, homeless, petty thieves, all the scum that would never give information to police but wouldn’t mind parting it to a “civilian.” Slinking up to the building, she circled the wall tightly, checking for loose windows or some entrance other than the front door. She managed to find a window, its frame rotted, easy to lift and enter through. She opened and shut it slowly, making sure no noise escaped from it as she crawled through. Stepping lightly on the floor, she moved deftly to check the lower rooms. Not a creak could be heard from her, but to her misfortune no one was in the lower rooms. She glanced up the stairs, frowning. She took a light step on the first stair, and it let out a creak. She moaned internally, she hated staircases like this. She took a few more, slowly moving up the steps, each letting out a soft whine. Suddenly she heard movement upstairs, heavy creaks on the top floor. Someone was definitely here all right. She continued up slowly, peering around the upstairs hallway as her line of sight just began to rise above the second floor. No one was in sight, so she decided to just quickly finish the climb, bracing herself and moving up the steps quickly. Still no one, but the door at the end of the hallway was open, and a soft light could be seen coming out of it. Reaching down to her belt of veils, Salome extracted a white cloth, embroidered with a yellow glyph for the sun. She moved slowly to the doorway, skirting the wall to try and reduce creaks by sticking to the stronger support between wall and floor. She peered around the door, glancing into the room. From what she could see it was empty save a television and chair, but at her angle the door blocked the right most portions of the rooms. She began to move through the doorway, then she felt the door slam into her face and break off its hinges as it hit her, propelling her backward.
Shligger had watched through the small sliver of space between the door and wall that was allowed by the hinges. He saw when Salome started to enter, and slammed the door into her with his full force. He felt a satisfying thunk as it hit its target and then broke off its hinges, continuing its rotation to fly to the side into the hallway. Not even stopping through the push, Shligger barged through and straight towards the woman who had tried to enter. Then there was a flash of white and yellow cloth and suddenly an intense light burst forth from the woman’s direction. Shligger yelled and looked away, the extreme bright light burning his eyes after hiding in this rundown apartment so long. He groped the air, swinging his fists around. Everything was a mix of the green and purple spots that come with burned retinas, the colors mixing in with the murky darkness of the corridor. The hues seemed to swirl in his vision, and he could not make sense of it for a time. Salome herself had been mildly affected, only having time to just shut her eyes before the magic of her veil went off. Her version was blurred, but she could still see silhouettes, especially Shligger’s, outlined in the light from the television in the room behind him. She flicked her wrist, letting a dagger fall into her hand, and threw it at the flailing shadow. Shligger roared as the dagger thunked into his arm, but ignored the pain and instead charged the direction he thought the blade had come from. He slammed into the wall, but felt his fist clip something. Salome had barely managed to move away in the short distance, receiving a mild blow to her left arm as she dove down the hallway. She moved to the other end, hopping over the door in the middle of the floor and moving to the edge of the staircase. Shligger moved in the direction he felt his fist clip Salome. His foot bumped into the broken door laying on the floor, and he smiled. He kicked the door up off the floor and down the hallway, completely filling its breadth. Salome’s eyes widened, and she hit the deck just before the door slammed into the wall behind her. While she had dodged the door’s flight, it fell on top of her, having been stopped by the wall. She grunted as it slammed down onto her back. She moved for the stairs, starting to go down on her rear before standing up and rushing the rest of the way down. She swung around the railing at the bottom, running to the corner where the stairs met the roof that was the second floor. She stood there, panting, her second dagger in hand, waiting for her target to come down the stairs.
Shligger heard Salome rush down the stairs, and stopped instead of moving after her. He moved into another room, listening for any more creaks in case the woman came back up. He waited and let his sight come back to him. After about a minute passed he could make out the dark room’s interior. He glanced at the blade in his arm. It was definitely not some rusted or worn knife an ordinary woman could find. It appeared shiny even in the dim room and well kept, even with the blood seeping out from his arm and onto it. He left it there, it hurt, but he would bleed less with it in. This person was not some chance occurrence. She was no doubt waiting for him below. Shligger smiled, another fight, and he didn’t even have to look for it. Still, he couldn’t go down the stairs. He thought for a moment, then looked at his feet. It was probably still to soon to use it, but still…Shligger reached into his coat, pulling out an oval capsule. He popped the end off, revealing a long, thin needle. He pushed it into his wrist, and felt the fluid within flow through is body. The drug acted quickly, moving through him. Shligger could feel his heart speed up, his blood pump faster, his breathing become heavier. His thoughts began to blur, and anger burned at the edges of his mind. With a surge of anger, he jumped up, and smashed his legs into the floor below as he came back down.
Salome was suddenly stunned by the sight of the roof crashing down a few feet away from her, a loud bang as something heavy slammed into the ground, dust kicking up and filling the whole room. She heard a roar and then saw Shligger’s figure charge her from out of the dust. Backed into a corner she could run to neither side, so instead she dropped to her bottom. She saw Shligger’s fist punch out above her head, slamming into and through the wall behind her. She stabbed upward, ramming her dagger in just behind Shligger groin. Aware of the stab but not the pain, Shligger stepped back, and kicked Salome. Enraged, his aim was not perfect, and he missed her head. He did however slam his foot into her right shoulder, breaking it. Salome let out a yell of pain. With her left hand she grabbed the thinnest veil at her waist, pulling it up over her curled body on the floor. For a brief moment Shligger lost sight of Salome. Salome took the brief moment of invisibility she had to roll forward between Shligger’s massive legs, using her left hand to rip the dagger out that she had just buried into Shligger. Using her left hand to grab meant she had to roll on her broken right shoulder, and Salome winced as the pain shot through her arm and chest. She stood up, her veil falling away and revealing her. Shligger, unsure of where his target had gone, swung madly around. Salome ducked, managing to dodge Shligger’s swipe through the air. She popped back up, slashing her dagger into Shligger’s belly on the rise. Shligger, oblivious to any and all pain, punched Salome rather than paying attention to his sliced up stomach. Salome flew backward, knocked onto the ground, sliding, yelling as her broken shoulder slammed into the wall on the far side of the room. Shligger rushed Salome again, going for a running kick at her head. Salome leaned to the side, flinching internally as the leg broke through the wall behind her yet still continued up through it a ways. The breaking wall spraying splinters and dust beside her head. She slashed her dagger into the back of the knee of Shligger’s raised leg, cutting the muscle straight through. She rolled underneath Shligger again, but Shligger didn’t let her through. He slammed his raised leg down, smashing Salome between his ankles and thighs. Salome let out a loud yell, the crushing blow forcing the air out of her, a bit of blood to go with it as some of her ribs snapped inward. Shligger tripped in the attempt of this move though, slamming down onto his stomach. Salome used the fall to get out of Shligger’s legs, crawling quickly away on her two legs and her god left arm. Shligger moved to get up, but looking down found a sight you don’t normally see. The force of the fall had pushed his stomach and intestines out of his slashed stomach. As he stood they continued to trail out of him. He managed to stand regardless, wincing, the pain finally stabbing through the rage. He began to take a step towards Salome, but his slashed leg muscle wouldn’t bear the weight, and he fell to the side. He would be unable to walk. Still alive and full of fury, he crawled towards Salome as fast as anyone could walk. However, even with ribs broken and a shoulder shattered, Salome still had the advantage of standing. Shligger swiped at her legs, but she jumped over the grab. As Salome came down she let her knees buckle in, her dagger plunging toward Shligger. It entered into the back of his neck, ramming through his spinal chord. No amount of rage could allow Shligger movement after that. He was paralyzed, but at least he did not feel the pain as his heart suddenly slowed, as his lungs began to contract for the last time. As the last remnant of sanity entered his mind though the hazy fog of the drug, he only felt regret in the fact he had lost. When that thought faded, he had died.
Salome let her self fall back against the wall, breathing heavy and hard. She had nearly died, and was tempted to thank whatever god or gods there were for her life. With her left hand she reached down, grabbing a baby blue veil, one sewn by her own mother. She took the veil off her belt, wrapping it around her chest. Suddenly the pain dulled a bit, and she had fond memories of touch. The comforting warmth of a mother hugging her child; the sudden naive relaxation that came from a mom tenderly kissing a boo-boo. She sighed, letting her mother’s magic heal her. Later, she would use the veil on her shoulder, then finally she would take the corpse in for her reward. It reeked to sit here next to it, the entrails spilled out, all the internal human gasses filling the air. But she had won, barely. Perhaps one more target after this body was turned in. One more person’s blood to fill up her bank, and then she would retire from this business. She sighed, tired, and let herself fall to sleep.


--------------------------------------- This thing is very long, and proof reading may not have searched out all my errors. I forgot to use spell and grammer check, as I only remembered after adding the tab tags in, which is a right pain in the ass. I didn't want to take off the tags, check, then redo the tags, as I've been typing nonstop for a long time as is. So I just skipped the mechanical check instead of waiding through errors created by inserting tags to get to the real ones (and I can't use ignore all because then it might skip an area where the rule does actually apply.) So it's all personal spell check, which usually leaves errors. Feel free to point any out. oh boy x_x

[Tact]

*looks at the thread title* "Shilgger."

[Nitro Vordex]

Die Shlig,ya Hulk knockoff! *fistpump*

Also, one of the visions, you spelled as version. Other than that, great job. :)

[Tessu]

Nice job, again, Sord.
Ronin versus Ian next...
Gib spoilers. :disapprove:


EDIT: Whoopsies.

[Nai_Calus]

Er, it's Ronin versus me next. >_>

...gib spoilers. http://www.iankunx.net/disapprovescar.gif

[Sord]

either Ronin or Ian will win

[Nai_Calus]

Awesome. http://www.iankunx.net/wackoscar.gif

[TalHex]

<--voting for ronin

[Nai_Calus]

<--voting for Ian, for obvious reasons

[Nitro Vordex]

I'm 100% sure Ian is going to win.

With 110% margin for error. :wacko:

[Nai_Calus]

http://www.iankunx.net/wackoscar.gif

[TalHex]

nonsense, he only has one eye ronin has two good ones, ronin therefore has at least a 10% chance of winning

[astuarlen]

Woah, intense. Definitely not a tldr type of post, I must say (though I may be biased). Nice job keeping up the suspense. I was like ._. and then I was :O and then .-. and `c`and 8D
So take that, Shliggles.

[Sord]

I wound up getting a call and I am staying a couple nights at a friends. I'm gonna eat and then leave right away. So this isn't finished, but it's an ok point to leave at, so let's just call it a prologue. This alone should make things evident where things are going for the tourney.


-------------------------------

Try as I might, I really could not find a reason for either Ronin or Ian to actually fight. I mean, come on, Ian’s a friggen dice nerd, and Ronin is just… Ronin. When has Ronin ever seriously started a fight? This point of this battle would be just as unrealistic as bunch of people walking into a tavern and joining together for no apparent reason with complete strangers. Oh, wait… So, without further ado, 4e senseless fighting.


Ian vs Ronin

Ian continued to scrub the charred floors, which of course meant he really wasn’t doing anything at all. He had taken various sponges and placed dice in them. From there on they moved at his will, the dice moving the sponges for him across the charred floors. He watched the sponges move across the floor, his one eye managing to track all of them with the help of his innate dice senses. His left eye still pained him, the scarred and burned flesh irritating even without being touched. He could feel the burn inside the socket, regardless of how many pain pills he popped.

As he watched his little sponges move around, he let his mind wonder. Could he have fought better? He was a god for crying out loud, even if it was just of dice. But if he could create and control them at will, that surely should have been enough. As Ian stared at the small moving sponges, a light of clarity opened in his mind. Control. It was so obvious!

Ian got up, leaving the sponges to do their work. He ran into the back storage room, popping open the deep freezer, for inside was Talon’s corpse. Earlier Ian had cleaned up the corpse a bit and froze it, meaning to save it for taxidermist so he could mount it on his wall, now he had other ideas.

Ian reached down to the split open neck of the corpse, putting in a steady stream of tiny dice. Each die in turn slipped down into the corpse, worming its way through the body. Slowly they began to form a skeletal structure inside Talon. Jerkily, due to the cold of the body and the thin layer of frost, Talon slowly sat up as Ian willed the dice to move. The head hung limply backwards, still hanging by the attached flesh on the back of the neck

On his own Ian could not control so many individual dice precisely; something had to hold them together. Perhaps later he would experiment using other materials, filling skin tight suits or something. If this worked out well, perhaps he could become a real God. Sure, this probably had limits, his dice couldn’t actually think for themselves, see or hear, but it would be a lot harder to be touched with a gang of bodyguards surrounding him. Now, he just had to find a target for combat…

[Weeaboolits]

Your dice-fueled, communist necro-puppetry does not frighten me! D:<

I have barrels! Wandering ones! D:<

[TalHex]

woo! even after death i can cause collateral damage!

[Nitro Vordex]

Does that mean I come back as a zombie yet again?

Oh wait...>:U

[Sord]

Does that mean I come back as a zombie yet again?

Oh wait...>:U

Even if it's head weren't smashed off days ago and the corpse old and rotted, you never would be, because Ian knows nothing about it. Plus it's not like he can create an army, he has to see and hear the surroundings for the dice, it's not like they can act independently. At most he'll only ever have 3, probably.

friends decided to stop at a restaurant, which is why I'm still here

[astuarlen]

Try as I might, I really could not find a reason for either Ronin or Ian to actually fight. I mean, come on, Ian’s a friggen dice nerd, and Ronin is just… Ronin.

I would have gone with one of those improbable chains of coincidence and misunderstanding which dog (would be) couples in romantic comedies, very nearly preventing two fated-to-be-together souls from achieving their blissful destiny. But in this case it leads to hillarious/gruesome/hillariously gruesome violence.


However, a cat cross between a zombie and a dice golem is also fine. :wacko:

Have fun with your accomplices friends.