Degenerates vs Silver Dragons [Page 1]

At the base of the building he rubbed his head with his open palm, trying desperately to remember what had just transpired. All he remembered was hitting his head twice and an explosion, his vision was blurry and his head hurt. The killer slumped against the wall still holding his head, trying to find any lumps to see if he'd cracked his skull. His fingers ran through his grimy hair and made disquieting noises, if it weren't for his necessity to be in this state he'd be disgusted with himself.

But it was a necessity, the world was doomed without men like him. At least he thought so.

He closed his eyes and pulled his helmet on over his head, hopefully his vision would clear up soon enough. Once the straps were secured he pulled the chains loose on his left arm and slipped his sleeve up over the metal plate, a gross mangled arm was exposed to the air. It showed signs of heavy use from injections, it would be used again immediately. Yancy plugged himself with a needle full of the slurry of performance enhancers. Immediately his eyes narrowed to tiny pinpricks of blackness in the glassy green of his eyes. The veins in his arm pulsed and his entire body shook as he withdrew the needle from his skin. Dumping it to the ground and pulling his sleeve back down.

Yancy's head nodded once or twice and then he wrapped the chainsaw chain back around his forearm, securing it underneath itself and checking to see if it was tight. Once he was sure he was right he turned around and began ascending the ladder, the foggy alleyway making way for the better lit overscape of the rooftops. His vision didn't clear as he pulled himself belly first onto the rooftop, he blinked several times in the hopes of clearing it up.

Had he overdosed?

Lying on his stomach he rolled over to his back and thumped the side of his helmet with his lead lined brass knuckles, the clanging of metal ringing through his ears.

Like a jolt he shot bolt upright and tried to fling his helmet visor open, only getting it partially open as he leaned over the edge and vomited into the alleyway. It got ******** everywhere inside of the helmet, he reached in with a finger to try and wipe it off the visor but it just smudged the whole damn thing.

Yep. Definitely overdosed.

He crawled back from the ladder to the center of the rooftop, putting his back to a rooftop strut he took several deep breaths. Spitting through the gap of his visor once or twice with chunky results. "Lord Jesus protect me, God knows I need it." Sitting here he propped one foot up and pulled the other underneath himself so he could get up quickly, if need be.

Serpentine eyes watched her every move, unblinking. Grakav could feel the strength in his body; layers of corded muscle wound up by time, and generations. She defied his very nature, the flowery scent wafting over his olfactory glands to subdue him. They stood in a modest gallery; bare walls broken by small windows that peered out over the rooftops below. At either’s back, a single open door filled with warm light. Everything about this place made him uncomfortable, but not her. In his tongue, there was no clear word for what Kae had done to him. Warriors of Vis'st did not know peace, only patience; the motionlessness prayer offered before another sacrifice.

“Weel mey shampen oryu reedetu urrn mey louv...”

Grakav could not understand her words, but she made her intentions clear enough; softly raking his scaley abdomen with sharpened nails. The rattling noise was not enough to pull his eyes from Kae, not until she slipped behind his shoulder and away from his view. Even still, he did not feel the need to move. His toughened hide would clearly feel each touch, and even as he towered over the temptress he swore he could detect soft breaths at the side of his face. She whispered more of the unfamiliar words directly into Grakav’s ear holes, but it was her actions that left him most vexed.

“...mussent keel...kaatsssh...breeng meether sssakrifissss...”

Kae moved as his people did; The smile that followed brought such a sweet scent up to meet him, and Grakav was suddenly all too willing to give in.

She had established to the mighty warrior that she needed him to win -only-; Grakav could beat them, maim them, or bring them nearly to the waiting jaws of Vis’st...but they must not die. He didn’t understand, but Kae had made it clear that such was not his place. She made the rules, and he was to follow them. Given that, he had been brought to a place that was uncomfortable to him; dropped in a jungle of hard lines, and towering stone walls. There were no trees, and very little water. He had never encountered anything like it, and his concept of a “city” was far more primitive. However, regardless of the setting, combat would be his true north.

Whatever small measure of comfort that might bring, it would have to wait until his victim arrived. Kae had shown the Serpent an engraving of his target; a human in red armor, with snake skulls on the shoulders. Such hypocrisy! Cattle should not be allowed to evoke such imagery upon their forms, and Grakav certainly looked forward to stripping this one of his gaudy heresies. Up until now, the hulking reptile had been frozen by Kae’s touch. She eased his tensions with a brush of her palm; guiding him to turn away from this moment, and face the exit at his back.

Grakav knew that he must step into the sun.

Into the fight.

Haelikor Wrote:

Scalar Warfare Wrote:

Suddenly, a massive television screen usually reserved for major holidays on a building's outward wall facing the many fighters within this quiet town's rooftoop regions flickered to life. A feature film was about to play.

"The Story of HoH RE-Union Round 1 :: The Heroic Silver Dragons vs The Heinous Blast and Bass."

"Betrayal! Murder! Fighting! Our heroes, Omi Barsait and his team he founded, Silver Dragons Ryujin, venture into the bowels of the underworld!"

"Heaven or Hell, corrupt tournament of great infamy, sent them to their deaths! It was Omi's fate to die, and he died! It was Moonblade's fate to live, and he lived! A factory of human sin, as the corrupt CEO's drove off to leave our unknowing heroes to their demise when facing the unnatural horrors of Team Slash and Cast!"

"All perpetuated by [Devil King Rance], grinning with bloodlust!"

~~~~~~~~

Omi Barsait rode in on a white stallion. "Halt!" He ordered, dismounting the noble steed even as the enemy team, Blast and Bask, winced and hissed in horror at his radiant golden serpent energy.

Likewise, the rest of his team also showed up as well.

"Omi, I'm scared.." Silver Dragons member YANCY whimpered, but Omi only laughed heartily and patted him on the back.

"Now now. We all know we're going to win. I'm here! However, I can tell just by looking -- their power levels are through the roof. Much higher than anything any of you can do. Just stand back and let me do the snaking."

"N...n-no! No Omi! I will prove myself!" Cried Yancy with anime style tears flowing behind him as he ran flailing with chainsaw arms at enemy large breasted entity RAVEN.

"!? No! Ya...." The actor playing Omi rose a script quickly, gazing at it, then put it away and outstretched his hand again. "Yancy, no!" But, before the lad could die, the amazing green clad skateboarder [Bob "Silly String" Smith] bravely rose into combat. He emptied all thirty cans of silly string he had, blinding the evil Raven. She screamed in horror, stepping in fecal matter, before running out of the factory. She would never be seen again.

Unfortunately, this fatigued Bob.

So much that he died from exhaustion.

"Bob?!!!!! No!!!!! Damn.. it was my own carelessness, Yancy's idiocy, and Moonblade's cowardice and ineptitude-" At the mention of his name, an elf by the name of Moonblade was suddenly waylaid.

Omi growled, and rose up triumphantly. "No. I've learned from this long and arduous battle.. you will now be defeated, Devil King Rance! Everyone! Give your life energy to me! DRAGGGOOON OFFFF... THE BRIGHTNESSSSSS.. FLAAAAAME"

"SILLY STRIIIINGu" Yelled the dead corpse of Bob.

"NAIL GUN BARRAGE"

"ahehe, KAISER RAIN!!!"

Combined, these four great forces fused into the Tetrahedron Dragon Azgolt.

Azgolt easily killed all of Team Mast and Wasp, especially the 30' tall Beetle Samurai with Cockroach Guns, Cyber. Rance shielded his eyes in futility as the Dragon of Light ripped him asunder. "Ahgggg?!!! But my antimagic!!! I am IMMUNE to magic!!!"

Omi simply shook his head. "You idiot... once my snakes leave my body, they're just physical entities. What a- what an, what a moron!"

But now the factory was going to explode. They were doomed. Or were they?

"Go on, gang. I'll shield you from the explosion with the last of my great and awe inspiring power. But the future... is up to you. Except you Moonblade, this is mostly your fault." The actor playing Moonblade had their shoulders slump. "Yes- SO LONG-o!!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE FINALE

[Ammiel Moonblade] would run like a coward from the factory he owned a majority share in exploding. He would go on to participate in Round 2.

[Bob "Silly String" Smith] would awaken with the help of friendship, be paid two more whole gold coins, and participate in Round 2 after replenishing his silly string.

[Yancy] would kill at least five more innocent bystanders. However, being rescued by the gallant Omi Barsait would touch his heart. He only severed three of his victims' limbs. He would go on to participate in Round 2.

[Devil King Rance] would snap his sword in two, never fighting again as he had been royally styled on by Omi Barsait and I guess Ammiel Moonblade. He would go to participate in Round 2.

["Hono" Raven Kanazkaeririei or whatever] would never be found again, supposedly having ran into the ocean and drowned while covered in silly string. She would go on to participate in Round 2.

[Cyber the Grasshopper Knight] would, in awe of how killed he was by Omi Barsait, never use insect based weaponry again and instead adopt snake motifs where applicable. He would go on to participate in Round 2.

[V the Slime] was found dead outside the factory, having been murdered by wandering adventurers. He would go on to participate in Round 2.

And of course.

[Omi Barsait] would nobly battle the Heaven or Hell White Mages Wing after their nefarious plans to warp his flesh with "healing magic," noting they had fixed his various major organs being pierced and all of his broken bones but, also noting they were inherently evil and full of thoughts of wickedness always, beating four of them down before escaping covered in bandages. He would go on to participate in Round 2.

However. Time... races forward.

As the movie ended, Omi Barsait literally popped out of a cardboard box on the roof shingles of an older European style architecture house, his bandaged self with trademark red snake jacket laid over it and stands of hair sticking out between bandage layers a telltale sign it was he.

"That was a fantastic bit of cinema. Whomever commissioned that to be made in such a short amount of time was a visionary, wouldn't you say, fellow individuals? Everyone, applause! Silver Dragons, Team Debauched-" Clap! Clap! Clap!

• Quote
• Tip Post

Tip Jar | What's this?

• Report Post
• Post: 105430962_8 created on Tue Dec 11, 2018 7:20 pm

Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2018 7:20 pm

Grakav heard the cacophony outside, even if he could not comprehend it, and did not slow in the least. Nearer, and nearer, he padded towards the exit; each bare footfall landing solidly on the masonry, and then springing forward right after. No hesitancy for what he must do now, but rather a hunger. Nothing made him feel more at one with Vis’st than this…

Almost nothing.

Propped against the frame was his massive sword, the *Vis’st’oks**. Nearly as tall as the Reptilian warrior, and forged in forked-likeness to the tongue of a snake; it was a magnificent tool of destruction, and also an adaptive one. Grakav extended his right hand, gripping the haft with nailless fingers as he drew it in against his body. He strode by the threshold now, and his broad shoulders scratched trenches into the limestone. There was simply not enough room for both he, and his blade, so the Serpentine allowed the Vis’st’oks’ bulk to drag behind him; it’s downward point furrowing the rock as he moved.

The light beyond was not so blinding as he had expected; a by-product of the thick fog that clung to his field of view, and left all but this one rooftop occluded. Through the mist, his eyes could almost detect the odd spectacle that Omi had engineered. Instead, Grakav was there to bear witness to his opponent’s “arrival”; the bandaged fighter emerging from some strange container, and vocalizing yet more words the Reptilian did not know. The warrior of Vis’st might not have even recognized the man, were it not for the coat...and those snake-shaped pauldrons.

Omi would be given the briefest of opportunities to examine this looming threat to his safety, or try given the poor state of the weather, before the hulking Mansnake would step fully into a forward jog. The beastly humanoid was nearer to seven-feet tall than six; covered in green scales of varying shades from the crown of his hairless head, to the pads of his feet. There was some rudimentary clothing, as well; What looked like soft leather, and consisted of a tunic, pturges, arm, and leg guards. There were darker markings upon it, and an uncanniness to its texture, but the bad visibility would keep its awful secrets...at least for a moment more. Muscle rippled with every step, and it became all the more defined as Grakav hoisted his Fullblade to the right, and to the ready; biceps swelling with raw strength as his left hand snapped over to the Vis’st’oks handle. There was no clear emotion in his yellow eyes as the bore down on Omi, but the snake’s lipless mouth hinged open to expose sharpened teeth...and a pair of larger fangs...to give some insight on how Grakav felt.

Finally, with scant feet between them, the scaled assailant would prime his body for the incoming swing; a thick tail rising up, and to the left, to add force for the strike. Without the kindness of space, Omi would finally get a decent look at his foe’s garb*; A garish suit of flayed humanoid skins, tattooed and sewn together. Several faces were visible, with empty mouths and eyes hung open to the scales beneath.

The Vis’st’oks sang forth, whistling from Grakav’s right-to-left in a horizontal swipe for the crimson suited fighter’s hip; its blade shimmering with an almost oily tone in this dingy light, and promising a swift end to whosoever meet its edge.

“Haelikor” Wrote:

Stance - Coiling Threat

Devotion - 1

Gullet - Intestines

• Appendex

show spoilerhide spoilerVis'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.

Manflesh :: Literally the flayed skin of homo sapiens; treated, and magically hardened, to function in much the same capacity as leather armor. Grakav's scaly hide serves a similar purpose, but the Manflesh also acts as a clothing of sorts. Besides the more mundane aspects of its nature, the macabre outfit also strikes a sort of fear into other sentient creatures; especially humans, half-humans, or pseudo-humans (elves, and creatures that appear similar to humans). The effect isn't mind-numbing, but the normalcy with which Grakav wears the Manflesh is absolutely unsettling to other creatures; tantamount to being noticeably unnerved. This effect is to be handled at the discretion of the individual affected. Includes: a sleeveless tunic, a thigh-length Pteruges, bracers, thigh, and ankle guards. Each piece appears to have been tattooed, or perhaps branded, with serpent motifs; the snakes coiling around, and around, and giving the illusion of independent motion as Grakav moves.

Blade Theory Wrote:

> Omi would be given the briefest of opportunities to examine this looming threat to his safety,

[1-x]

Nuh-uh-uh.

And so we enter into a time known only to Omi.

Something terrible dawned upon Bob, as he stood transfixed by the consecutive entrance films of his teammates. Something that gnawed at his very insides, making him feel just a little bit nauseous.

“I should’a asked for more cash!” He exclaimed in despair.

Unbeknownst to Bob, a fellow was casually hovering up into the air somewhere off to his right as he stared tragically at the unfolding dance number. It would have certainly got his attention, seeing a man flying like that, if not for the machinations of his ‘teammates.’ Bob made a mental note to ask for double his pay before the next round started, whenever that would be, just as a voice addressing him finally dragged his attention away from the great screen.

“Howdy bud.” Bob said, rather distractedly, at first not really realising he was talking to a man who could hover through the air. By the time he’d fully turned to take him in, he was standing on solid ground and seemed all too ordinary compared to the last guy he’d ended up fighting. Still, what was normal anymore? Ignoring that particularly line of thought for the time being, Bob squared up, resting a hand on a can at each hip in a fashion reminiscent of a cowboy in a spaghetti western. The green-attired man tilted his head with an audible click, and took measure of the distance between them. Twenty feet, maybe a foot or so either way, a bit close for Silly String Smith’s liking, but then, there was another building just a short hop away from the edge of the building, off to what was now Bob's right, following the path of the main street below. He’d have somewhere to maneuver to if need be.

“Alrighty then, put your dukes up mister, let’s tussle.” And even as he gave the invitation, Bob’s hands were moving in a motion practised an absurd amount of times. Drawing two cans simultaneously,*fill your hands you son of a b***h*, Bob equipped himself with a can of Superstick and a can of Supersubstantial string, in which time the ball was in the floating fellow’s court.

• Post 1 -

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

=>J'em Balader...<=

0

The symbiote hummed absently to herself as she traced her fingers over the smooth, scaly hide of her newest conquest for the fifth time in as many minutes. There was something thrilling about the act, feeling the taut sinew tensed up beneath her touch, relaxing for a moment in the passing caress of her fingertips. Grakav was massive, and she knew that at any second he might snap out of the haze of her mind-addling scent, snatching her up in a rage to rend her flesh. His singular claw might well wrap around the entirety of her waist on its own… It made her calves quiver. The thrill of danger was irresistable… and so too was the feeling of control.

She had almost lost the sense forever with the events at the Crimson Hawk. True, the strings of blackmail still trailed from her shoulders, but out in these stages she could forget that for a little while, and go back to living in the moment. It felt good to spend his money, to press her desires on others and eat up their confused distress.

The snake cultist was different, though. She had not expected him to be pacified so easily and yet remain so dangerous. Perhaps the parasite was getting to her again, but his bearing, his physique was so profoundly imposing despite its alien, reptilian build that it made her… feel things. Receptive to her appreciative caresses and soft words of encouragement, she had gleaned some understanding of his rites as well in their time together.

They were bloody, brutal, primitive. Savage… just like the Rose. Kae wondered what he might look like fully anointed for battle, wrought scaly hide glistening with sacred oils, corded muscles roiling under the surface with every movement… her breath caught, finding herself pressed against him, chest to chest. She looked up through heavy lids, rolling her hips as she resisted the urge to smear the sacred oils over her own soft swells, and anoint every inch of this serpent god with her servile….

~~~~

She coughed lightly, blinking free of the fantasy, a pink tinge coloring her cheeks. There was fighting to be done, and she’d only distract him… and herself, from the task at hand. Destructive Forces, Inc expected results. With a parting touch of encouragement, she left the lizard cultist behind, and strode for the double doors leading out to the roof balcony. Her breathing steadied, her hands working through long violet tresses to untangle them from her indiscretion, and she closed her eyes, preparing herself for yet another debut.

The Rose was particularly aggressive today, she could feel it angrily writhing about on her skin. Maybe it was agitated about the snakeman… or more likely the strong magical signature that prickled the back of her neck. Her opponent must have arrived.

She could see his outrageous hat crest the dividing roof peak for a brief moment, and she smiled, shaking her head at the music that began to beat through the streets around them. Though Moonblade couldn’t see it, she beckoned him with a wave of her hand, calling out to signal him to the other side of the solarium. “Over here, mon cheri~”

It wasn’t quite her style, but she could still roll her step to this beat… balader, balader… each steep stilletto settling carefully into a groove between slanted shingles made of pottery. Sigil had inured her to the strange juxtapositions of architecture, such that Gaia seemed little more than ordinary. The asphalt tar a few buildings down was a flatter arena, but this mediterranean clay roof was so much more… interesting.

Armor, of a sort, covered her - polished rosewood that looked freshly buffed in the occluded daylight. She had opted for a… less practical configuration this time. While her legs and arms remained properly sleeved in both underarmor and articulated plating, she had eschewed the breastplate, instead letting the Rose hold in her expansive bosom with a mere halter-style bikini top, gripping tightly into the soft flesh as the vines strained with the burden. The armor that would have been there was instead repurposed to fill out the rest of her cuisses and tassets, such that the full expanse of her torso was bare to the elements below the shoulder. But… at least she was wearing pants.

When the homunculus eventually turned the corner of the solarium, or otherwise catapulted himself over it, he would find her already waiting, her hip cocked out saucily as she balanced precariously along the ridge of the slanted roof, on heel points so narrow a normal woman would have faceplanted on solid ground, let alone the curved crest of a fired clay roof. She blew him a kiss.

"Commençons..."

By any other name would smell as sweet!

show spoilerhide spoiler

Parasite Coverage

60%

Mode

Femme Fatale

Configuration

Armored shoulders, neck, arms, legs, hips. Platform heels. Gel underarmor. Taloned gauntlets.

Gravitic Charges

[x][x][x]

Passive Abilities:

[Queen of Blades] - Dormant

Active Abilities:

[Vine Lash] - Two available per Femme Fatale template

1. - Dormant

1. - Dormant

Post Damage Summary/Reasoning

Entry Post.

show spoilerhide spoiler

MagnusXL Wrote: