Degenerates vs DMC

Heaven or Hell: RE-Union - Round 4

Team Literal Degenerates vs. Team Devil May Care

The Rave Club

The bass throbbing. The lights flickering. The smell of sweat and blood. A war zone in a controlled environment. This is the place that was created from the winnings of HoH 2008. A place where aggression rules and where talking it out is thrown to the wind. Welcome to The Rave Club™.

General - Welcome to the TRC. A club created by the famed Dzan Streea who has been mysteriously absent from the club since the first round of the tournament. As such, it is currently closed down for fights to take place to add to the feel of the place. The first floor is cleared out. Chairs, tables, couches, a bar, and a small dance floor. The second floor is where the fight takes place. A huge wooden floor with flashing lights and a live DJ spinning bone jarring beats. This floor is your demise. Wooden floors, large platform above the first floor. DON'T GET SLAMMED THROUGH! There are NO SPECTATORS. Cameras are hooked up to see you suffer.

Weapons - None but what you bring.

Bonus Effects - Due to the nature of the club magic is harder to conjure! Due to people wanting to spectate and the infamous nature of TRC in general, the first floor IS open to spectators that must watch from the TVs along the first floor. The stairs are barred off by ARMED guards.

(Post 0)

Tendrils blanketing her knife-ears, Namine stepped onto the second floor with a concealed grimace, annoyed by the lustful gazes of the churlish crowd. She could not comprehend Kae's affinity for "counterculture"; to her, there was nothing cultured here other than the bacteria on their skin.

And yet, the nymph still co-opted their fashion, discarding her flowing robes in favor of the cosmopolitan: wearing ripped black denim capris and an open black-leather moto jacket. On her feet and hands, she wore multi-colored boxing wraps, matching with a glitter-dusted sarashi underneath her coat. Her hair flowed down in two pig-tails past her jacket, splattered with a rainbow motley.

She stepped forward carefully on the creaky wooden floor, and took the center stage. The flashing strobe lights highlighted her platinum figure, but with every flicker, the shadowy nymph only grew more uncanny, smirking into the darkness.

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Uncanny Beauty [Passive, Gaze]

Looking directly at Natalis fills the opponent with unease, the nymph’s appearance being so flawless that it seems unnatural. Generates 1 Dread per turn if visual contact isn’t ACTIVELY avoided.

Resource: Dread (Mystic Eyes of Death Perception) [Fear/Fate] (Ex)

Natalis’s psionics are intimately connected to her target and generate Dread stacks upon certain conditions, usually physical contact. She may accrue up to 15 stacks, with no more than 3 per turn.

Dread stacks unspent don’t manifest as much, other than negative emotions and visual distortions, the scale and scope of which grows as her prey increases their Dread.

Namine’s Fear is a conceptual observation of Death and bypasses normal Fear immunity.

What is in a name? That which we call a rose...

=>There's Nothing We Need That It Can't Create!<=

1

The music paused for a few moments, leaving the club uncomfortably silent and making Kae's dance falter off into an awkward shuffle. Irritatedly, she whipped the glowsticks off underhand at the source of the interruption, frowning at having to stop. It wasn't like she'd not have acknowledged Cherry otherwise, this was just a d**k move.

"I really do not appreciate being called that..." the Helvetian grumbled, remembering already what she'd done to the last unfortunate that had slung the epithet at her. *"I am no chien. Monsieur DJ, encore, s'il vous plait. I'll beat her a**... to the beat."* The familiar pounding of the bass returned in epic form, easily working Kae back into the swing of things with a simple two step as she bobbed her head. She'd discarded her glowstick lanyards, but the Rose could provide something equally as good to put Cherry in her place.

Two batons of polished rosewood blossomed from her palms, their ends unfolding into a bouquet of thorny vines tipped with weighted knots of hardwood. With these nine-tail scourges, she advanced, twirling them menacingly through the air, lightly bio-luminescent just enough to weave a trail of after-images in the sickening strobes. In this confusion, she assaulted Cherry with their flexible length, a rain of flowing blows to bludgeon flesh, tear the clothing, and snarl the hair cruelly... over and over with rhythmic strikes on the high bpm downbeat.

By any other name would smell as sweet!

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Parasite Coverage

50%

Mode

Femme Fatale

Configuration

Rave girl. Crop tee and booty shorts.

Gravitic Charges

[x][x][x]

Passive Abilities:

[Queen of Blades] - Dormant

Active Abilities:

[Weapon Generation]: Per Femme Fatale template.

1 - 5ft vine-cord scourge - Striking the head and upper torso!

2 - 5ft vine-cord scourge - Striking the arms and upper torso!

[Vine Lash] - Two available per Femme Fatale template.

1 - Dormant

2 - Dormant

Post Damage Summary/Reasoning

Kae is getting tired of being called a female dog. She gets into the groove of things with a pair of whips to teach this potty mouth a lesson.

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Torigoya Wrote:

Part of Cherry felt bad about insulting her opponent, Kae de la Fontaine was the name she’d seen on the roster but she had no way of knowing whether it was an alias or pseudonym or even if they’d sent someone else in place at the last moment, she seemed like a fine lady, pretty in all the ways Cherry was not and with a cure accent to boot, but the Devil in Red wasn’t paying her to be nice. He wanted to win and he wanted to do so in resounding fashion. There was no doubt that Cherry Solo had the stuff but asking for autographs and eating cotton candy, that wasn’t the production Devil May Care was selling, she needed to grow teeth, and she needed someone to sink them into.

Kae wasn’t going to make it easy though.

Whips weren’t a great weapon but they annoyed Cherry to no end. She liked the game of chess that was dodging and parrying and countering an enemy until someone finally slipped into checkmate. She liked bruising punches and crushing kicks, but whips were a wild card, a skilled fighter could use them with precision, but they added an element of randomness that she didn’t like. With nine heads it was a safe bet Cherry wasn’t going to get the silky-smooth martial exchange she was looking for and while whips didn’t have the strength of other weapons it was all but guaranteed that there was a trick in there somewhere.

So, what now?

Back away and Kae would chase her down with whips-a-crackin’ until she was in a corner. Cherry wasn’t much of a distance fighter and most of her long-range options had tells. Better then to take the initiative from the sultry seductress by going in headfirst, inside the minimum range of her swing those whips would become awkward to maneuver and never really get the momentum necessary to penetrate her leather jacket and the mail beneath that. To split open her flesh with those nasty knots of wood at the end. With her halberd in hand, the right one about a foot away from the throat and her left two feet back from that, and a spark of electricity she dashed forward. Cherry was fast for her size and with a boost she’d doubled that, leaving a crack on the dance floor where her back foot had been while she covered the distance between her and Kae in the time it took for that first whip to snap.

Slamming to a stop in front of her with her right profile forward, aiming a short thrust at Kae’s center of mass with the ugly spike at the center of the pole looking to kiss her solar plexus, chances were she’d dodge. Even with Cherry’s sudden jump in speed everyone found a burst of adrenaline when they were about to be impaled. Cherry was ready to pivot and chase her, to transition into a follow up swing, the key here was to keep Kae off balance and stay close were that first whip crack and every subsequent one would fall short, and hopefully the damn things weren’t tentacles that could move with a mind of their own right?

A girl could hope.

[1]

Battery: 95% (-5%)

Scalar Warfare Wrote:

Cherry Solo could flood her system with etheroelectric energy to boost her speed but not her perception. Most of the time this was enough. She was strong enough that a sudden jump in forward momentum was enough to swing momentum in her favor, it was a safe bet that she hadn’t clocked in at her maximum of fifty miles per hour given that she’d stopped then started then stopped again, but it was still impressive. Problems emerged when people could react, even hastily, and Cherry herself was left moving far faster than she was used to with the world a blur of motion around her, not necessarily defenseless but easy for the pickings nonetheless.

Irrelevant, mostly, for now.

She struck and was in turn struck, though it was a safe bet Kae got the worst of it with a pike to the sternum, the bulk of the strike was stopped by her armor but the force was still enough to fling her to the ground. Cherry was triumphant for all of a second before the flail thumped against the top of her head. Not a whip? Her mistake, she was five years old and didn’t have much experience with dommes, most of the flails missed their mark and landed on her back or her shoulders or her neck, where the leather jacket and the thin layer of chainmail beneath that could absorb some of the impact. The sudden shift in momentum helped too. But Kae was stronger than her sultry demeanor implied, and there were probably going to be a few bruises later on.

Worst than that? The way they snagged her braid.

Cherry shrieked in that way only a woman with her vanity defiled really could and with a twist of her hand that halberd suddenly became two weapons, a three-foot axe and a three-foot spear. The former of which chopped up with a sweep of her right hand. The swift call to action and her superior strength likely, ideally, giving her the power necessary to behead the serpent snared in her hair and free her hair, save of course for three unruly knots that had found a home in her tangle of her blue. She was not idle after either. Kae had but a brief moment in time where Cherry was more concerned with her appearance than with the fight at hand, but it didn’t last much more than a second, when the chop came to a close her spear thrust out. Blue lightning snarled at the pointed tip and then leapt forward, a bolt of energy zig-zagging through the air with its forked tip looking to slam into Kae’s chest. That tip had a very real point to it. It aimed for the crack in her armor, even filled with protective gel as it was, a weak point that it could wedge open and deliver a heavy dose of electric burns to the lady underneath. Even if that didn’t work? It’d still feel like having an angry pitbull launched out of a car window and straight into your chest.

[2]

Battery: 80% (-15%)

Scalar Warfare Wrote:

The armored draconian sighed heavily as his teleportation spell finished, his massive bulk quickly materializing in a fleeting yet blindingly bright flash of light at the bottom of the stairs, right infront of the armed bouncers. The two men gave each other a quick, dazed and confused glance, then quickly moved aside to allow the man his space and entrance to the fighting area. The guards made sure to give wide berth, not wanting to be cut or stabbed by the massive obsidian blade hanging from the drake’s back, or by the many spikes adorning the plate mail that the dragon wore. Vince’s ascent to the top of the arena was very slow, the thuds of his heavy boots mixing in with the throbbing music and the flashing and dancing lights of the nightclub. His climb came to an end a moment later, finally joining Cherry Solo atop the wooden platform.

The dragon’s gaze fell upon the serpentine creature before him; some sort of reptilian, as far as Vince could tell. Given the circumstances, and the fact that Cherry hadn’t already gone out to meet the large creature, the seven foot tall armored mountain strode heavily and quickly towards the center of the arena. Stopping roughly ten feet out from the beast, Vince took a quick moment to readjust his sensitive eyes and hearing to the dimly lit strobing arena and cacophonous music. With a swift movement, Vince’s right hand grasped and yanked the massive blade free from its resting place, and moved to rest with the tip of its 4 foot blade on the wooden floor infront of him. His left hand simultaneously pulled the Draconic Talon from his left hip, the blue aura almost lost in the ever-changing lights, the two foot weighted chain at the hilt’s end reflecting the light.

”Let’s do this, then. Armor made of your hide sounds like a fair reward for the effort!”, the heavy, bass filled voice of Vince shouted, amplified slightly to be heard by the relevant parties over the din of the night-club.

Energy = 0.5

Spells used = None

Blade Theory Wrote:

One

Temporal sickness was a real b***h.

It could affect the mind, the body, and some believed even the soul. Fortunately for the Dragon, only his brain had temporarily been scrambled by the quantum jaunt; prickling his senses with false images of both the club, and its occupants.

Because this place had been abandoned for nearly 89 years.

The shimmering veneer would peel away from Vince’s eyes, revealing a rotted interior with visible holes in the roof. Decades of rain, and exposure, had stolen the once bright colors from every surface. Bits of wire, and broken equipment were still strewn about; the rest having long been stolen, or tossed, in favor of floor space. Old graffiti had been scrawled all over, and it was clear that the building had hosted its fair share of vagrants.

It likely still did, based on the newer bits of trash and smell of urine.

What the hulking drake had mistaken for his foe was little more than the gutted carcass of an old sofa; stood up on its side, and draped in torn rags. Grakav, who by now was likely well into venerable old age, had long left this place. Vince was, perhaps, the latest contestant in combat tournament history.

But he wasn’t alone.

“Well I’ll be damned...You finally showed up!”

From behind a cascade of old insulation, his massive frame hidden in shadow, would emerge a Serpentine Giant*; his scaled hide partially concealed beneath a pair of brown board shorts, and a fitted tanktop. An initially confusing getup, but sensible considering how hard it must be to find -anything- in his size! With his body now visible, the Mansnake would drag an equally large object into view.

The *Vis’st’oks**.

The weapon was in pristine condition; untouched by time, or the rigors of conflict. It’s forked blade sheared through the ragged carpet like a scalpel, and even in the young hybrid’s practiced grip it was evident that the full-blade was a solid slab of heavy steel.

“My Grampsss told ssstories about you; Vinsssce, the cowardly dragon. I get the pusssy part...being that you’ve only jussst FINALLY ssshowed up...”

Snake-like eyes would drift over the other fighter, but the broad face beneath them revealed little of the young warrior’s thoughts.

“But I wouldn’t call you a Dragon.”

He hissed, and swept his titanic blade around so that it was presented between the two men; eyeing Vince over the weapon’s upward edge.

“I’m Grakav the Third; Grandson of the warrior you ducked.”

“Striker Nightmare” Wrote:

Stance - Coiling Threat

Devotion - 0

Gullet - Fetish of Vis’st

• Appendix

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Physical Traits :: Standing at 6’8“, and weighing in at around 300lbs, his frame is solid; built for speed, endurance, and flexibility! Normally, he is capable of benching approximately 450lbs, dead-lifting nearly 900lbs, and overhead pressing roughly 250lbs; Striking around 1600 psi with a solid hit. Additionally, his sprinting speed maxes out near the 15MPH mark; while his relaxed run, or jogging, speed is much slower(approximately 10MPH). His jump height/distance is 6ft/12ft (20ft horizontal while running).He can coordinate his body with exceptional balance, flexibility, and dexterity; possessing reflexes that border on the superhuman level. His reaction speed is easily sufficient to contend with, and respond to, the rigors of supernatural combat. Such feats, however, represent the absolute pinnacle of his physiology.

Vis'st'oks :: In its natural form, the Vis'st'oks is a Fullblade approximately six-and-a-half feet in length; from its pommel, to its points. The blade itself has been non-traditionally forged in the likeness of a forked-tongue; with its dual-points angling away from the swords edges, and thus giving the far end of the Vis'st'oks a wider profile than the rest of its blade. However, because of this, the sword lacks a "thrusting point"; with the forked ends meeting in the middle to form an inward V-shape. The blade, from guard to where the points begin to fan, is approximately 12in wide; with the distance between its points being closer to 22in, and the "V" at its furthest point being approximately 8in deep. To offset the sheer size of the weapon, its haft accounts for approximately 20in; having been reinforced both physically, and magically, to make it combat viable. The process that was used to forge the Vis'st'oks has been lost to time, but the metal has all the durability of tool-grade steels and yet retains an exceptionally sharp edge; its surface blending in waves similar to Damascas, but with shades of color teasing themselves to visibility in the shifting light. The weapon weighs approximately 10lbs, and features a bladed pommel; roughly shaped like a spade, with its mirror edges brought to a point. See Stances below for all other weapon configurations, and notes.