Hold My Beer vs Retribution [Page 4]

Artanthos felt the weight of his pommel drive home into D’s side. It crunched into her ribs and liver with a force that almost made him wince himself. Artanthos was no physician, but he knew how the human (and often humanoid) body reacted when a solid blow managed to find its way into that spot. It was enough to crumple even the largest of men, bringing them to their knees in momentary, almost paralyzing agony. D’ appeared to claim no exception to this rule, and he watched as the woman began to falter.

And, unfortunately for her, the Hellknight was not finished.

Compromised as her defenses were, and with her falling to her knees, D’ would be forced to contend with an opponent who held zero qualms over exploiting her sudden weakness. As D’ collapsed, Artanthos pushed Revanchist back and away from D’, in turn sliding his left hand further up the blade. The drake hide of his gauntlet’s glove lining was cut slightly by the movement, but not enough to slice through the material fully and into the flesh of his palm. While his left shifted to achieve a better, balanced grip upon the blade, this freed up his right. Releasing the hilt, Artanthos clenched his gauntlet into a steel fist, and sent the back of his hand rocketing up into the side of D’s face. A normal backhand was often insulting, and could be dangerous enough; Artanthos had witnessed another knight backhand a serf while armoured once, and it had killed the man. The Hellknight believed D’ to be of stronger stuff than that man had been, but he doubted this would be something she could shrug off.

Regardless of how that attack transpired, though, D’ had not yet given in.

At first, Artanthos thought D’s wayward left hand was a mere warding gesture - a vain effort to keep her foe at bay as she struggled to recuperate from the debilitating blow she had received. A moment before that ominous flash of darklight erupted into existence before his sight, Artanthos felt cold dread settle into the pit of his stomach. He remembered that this woman possessed the Maleficarum.

”Sheiss-”

Artanthos’ world exploded.

Pain, light, sound - it flooded him, inundated him. The Hellknight felt the vaguest sense of distance, and the only sensation that prevented him from succumbing to vertigo was the press of grass and earth beneath his soles. He realized he couldn’t breathe, and that his head was stuck in a ringing church bell. Somehow, he managed to keep a hold of his montante - years of practice half-swording also preventing him from further slicing his hand. He reached up with his right hand, fumbled for his visor latch, and finally managed to snap the thing open.

Light. There was still nothing but light.

The ringing had begun to normalize, at least. The pain was still there, of course; it felt as though his neck had been strapped to a rack and pulled, and the flesh about his upper face was raw. He blinked a few more times before almost breathing a sigh of relief as vague images began to form in his vision. So, he hadn’t been permanently blinded. That certainly would have made his path in life difficult, and he had already adapted to living with one eye for that. Quickly and carefully, he turned to what he thought was D’s form, putting his left forward as he grabbed Revanchist with both hands once more, pulled it close to his hip and assumed a Plow guard.

All the while, his mind raced, wondering what his opponent was doing during all of this…

[5]

Darkest Silver Wrote:

> Assuming he had stood again after throwing Dzan he would be faced with Jay slashing at him in an outward arc with her right blade. Aiming to either force his sword aside if he held it or go right up to cut his hands. > > > > (Arc starting slightly left and pushing out to the right side of her body. Tenkai’s left.) > > > > Following this her left blade would be extended out to aim for his face, if he didn’t move out of range. The woman was practically foaming at the mouth. She needed blood, the rage that had built up would be taken out on the poor monk before her. > > > > If he didn’t move she would keep moving forward regardless, aiming to get into that juicy melee space where she could do what she did best… Break things. > > > > And Unlike the opponent he had before, she was not entirely human. She was a bloodthirsty feral beast, but he would find out soon enough just how dangerous she was.

Tenkai wasted no time getting to his feet after the throw, rotating onto his back into an upright kneel, sword held forward in front of him in order to anticipate the next charge. There was no way Dzan would be down for the count after that move, but it would probably do enough to buy Tenkai some space.

At least, that was the original plan.

What caught Tenkai completely off guard was the sudden tag-in of Dzan’s teammate, who up until now had been off on the sidelines in a cage, waiting for her opportunity to strike. It didn’t take long for Tenkai to recognize her, memories dredged up from his initial “reunion” with Dzan. Jay S. Borne, an arms dealer who had operated in Sigil and the closest one could get to being a “female Dzan” minus the cybernetic augments and worship of Khorne. Something had sent her into a maddened bloodlust, and she moved much faster than Tenkai expected. That moment of surprise was likely all Jay needed to get herself into range.

With her first swipe, she beat his sword to his left side, and his right hand followed with it. Even with just a trench knife, her strength was impressive. Had he not been caught off guard by the sudden tag-in, Tenkai would have been in a better position to counter with his sword. But Jay’s bloodthirsty initiative managed to give her the opening she needed.

Or so it seemed.

At that range, Tenkai had no time to swing his sword back in the other direction in an attempt to strike under her guard. She was too close, and his blade was too far back. So, borrowing a page from Dzan’s playbook, Tenkai let go of his sword, which was sent off to his left by the force of the parry. With both hands at his left side, the monk was actually in a much better position than Jay would realize. As her left strike came in, Tenkai lowered himself slightly, raising his right shoulder in order for the large pauldron to shield the side of his face as he moved to act. Even if her left strike would make contact before he took the opening, the blade would shunt off the rim of his pauldron as his shoulder raised.

Starting with his left foot, moving up to his hips and into his arms, Tenkai drove the full clockwise rotational momentum of his body into one swift, powerful double-arm palm thrust. Jay was no ordinary human, but this was no ordinary thrust.

**双天剛掌波

*Souten Goushou Ha!***

(Twin Heavens Rigid Palm Wave)

Though the strike would make physical contact with her abdomen, it released a shockwave of spiritual force far larger than his palms, enough that the impact would ripple over her torso and hips. Rather than just send her stumbling from having the wind taken out of her, the wave would send her flying back like some telekinetic push as the force rocked through her body. Not having used his power on Dzan for the last move left him with the energy needed for this technique, and he would need to do so in order to contend with an enhanced opponent like Jay.

**五本!

[5]**

Cooldowns:

Global - 1

Souten Goushou Ha - 2

In time, Artanthos’ vision returned to him. D’, in the interim, had not taken advantage of his weakened state.

As he recovered, the Hellknight took stock of his current injuries. His neck still throbbed, but he could roll it well enough now. His head was pounding, likely from the blow and the short bursts of high exertion he and D’ had engaged in. His chest was still the most painful of his injuries, and he was thankful that his opponent’s concussive blast had not managed to permanently dent his cuirass. That would have been rather unfortunate.

All in all, he was a pile of aches and pains, enough to warrant bedrest for several days. And, by the gods, he felt alive.

Grinning wryly to himself with that reflective thought, Artanthos afforded the duel some levity. ”You’ve fought well thus far, D’ Aire,” he said, addressing his foe and nodding at her. ”I’ve gained a better measure of what this world’s fighters have to offer. I must thank you for that. Now, let us finish this.” Despite her pain, it appeared as though D’ held similar thoughts from the sharp grin on her features. Artanthos was not one to waste an opportunity such as this; snapping his visor shut again and locking it, he exhaled, and prepared to engage.

Getting into measure once more with D’ was not a difficult endeavor. Artanthos shuffled ahead with three gathering steps, his armoured feet never crossing. He remained in a left-facing Plow guard during this, until he was 7 feet away from his foe. At that junction, his arms shifted, pulling up straight and forward. This motion would set Artanthos’ montante into Longpoint, which threatened D’ with the point of the weapon to her torso.

A simple enough device, though with deadly consequences if underestimated.

[6]

And so that was that. A moment to breathe, a mutual acknowledgement of their opponent's potential, informing D' that she had the honor of perhaps being his first worthy new opponent of this world, and the battle would soon continue in earnest. His visor closed, and D' ensured she was in proper left-leading stance. Artanthos' stance was quickly analyzed so she could devise a proper response. The lack of her staff meant he had the distance advantage, and could punish her movements if she danced at the edge of his range. Of course, that meant Twitch would have to place them in her comfortable range.

The dress covered a great deal of her legs, hiding the muscles her thighs and calves possessed. He'd felt some of the power they could deliver, but for the now she'd focus all of that power into moving forward. Upon his third shuffle she was already falling-- no, pouncing forward so that she'd land at his feet on her hands and knees. While he could certainly adjust his wrists and the tip of his weapon to try to slice into her shoulder or even impale her, but she figured her timing was good enough to avoid putting much or any of her body on his blade.

Then, there was the fact that before she left the ground, her body was shrinking. Black fur sprouted from caramel flesh as her white dress melted down and out of sight. ~Two seconds was a long time in their style of quick exchange, a time she'd adjusted for so that when she was at his feet, the woman was replaced with a hellcat, one that continued to push forward to throw her shoulder into Artanthos' forward shin. The impact would be relatively light, especially considering his armor, but her aim was less to hurt him and more to make him stumble, or at least readjust to the type of opponent he was going to be fighting as she aimed to step through him and to his back, as she attempted to collapse his stance.

Innate: State Shift Wrote:

> Twitch has the Esterian trait of physical state shifts, and is able to freely move through them as situation demands. In her Feralstate, she is a ~45 inch (head/body length) hellcat with a fully black coat save the gray stripe down her belly and the dual purple streaks down her back. As the smaller Hellcat Feral, her bite and scratch are as devastating as one would expect from a member of the large cat family; the Hellcat Feral closely resembles an oversized caracal in appearance and power.

--- --- ---

[ Post 7 ]

Adrenaline: 4 + 1 = 5

Of course D' expected to be booted given enough time, which is why she made sure to keep moving in the direction she was already going-- through him, and to his back. That would be his right, as it was the leg she rushed, and the side he presented. His switching legs meant little for her, other than when his kick came, she'd feel the graze of it against her backside and tail.

She kept moving a tight circle around him, maintaining about two feet of distance. It would be enough to keep circling to his back, searching to see if he had any soft, fleshy parts hidden or any joints she could attack , while allowing her to respond to what was sure to be a constantly changing position and his feet as one couldn't imagine that Artanthos would just let D' take his back in any form, or not try retaliate with a sword strike or more easily, another boot.

--- --- ---

[ Post 8 ]

Adrenaline: 5 + 1 = 6

Tenkai Matsumoto Wrote:

> As her left strike came in, Tenkai lowered himself slightly, raising his right shoulder in order for the large pauldron to shield the side of his face as he moved to act. Even if her left strike would make contact before he took the opening, the blade would shunt off the rim of his pauldron as his shoulder raised. > > > > Starting with his left foot, moving up to his hips and into his arms, Tenkai drove the full clockwise rotational momentum of his body into one swift, powerful double-arm palm thrust. Jay was no ordinary human, but this was no ordinary thrust. > > > > **双天剛掌波 > > *Souten Goushou Ha!* > > (Twin Heavens Rigid Palm Wave) > > > > Though the strike would make physical contact with her abdomen, it released a shockwave of spiritual force far larger than his palms, enough that the impact would ripple over her torso and hips. Rather than just send her stumbling from having the wind taken out of her, the wave would send her flying back like some telekinetic push as the force rocked through her body. Not having used his power on Dzan for the last move left him with the energy needed for this technique, and he would need to do so in order to contend with an enhanced opponent like Jay. > > > > 五本! > > [5]** > > > > Cooldowns: > > Global - 1 > > Souten Goushou Ha - 2

What a start to the fight, she had come in like a wrecking ball and the Monk had decided to disarm himself and go for a hand to hand combat style. It was not the smartest thing to do when faced with a raving lunatic, but hey at least he had balls.

Jay didn’t get time to laugh, as they were both still in motion… Tenkai planting his hands on her Solar Plexus, Jay carrying her left hand over the shoulder guard to extend her fingers and grab a solid fist full of his hair near the base of his ponytail/ scalp. It didn’t matter if she cut him or not, what mattered was both his hands were busy and she had a nice opening to grab the hair and activate her touch… It would be a searing sensation that spread out from the thumb and forefinger whose sides were closest to the scalp itself.

The hair being thin strands of matter would curl and blacken around her hand, falling away and vanishing into nothingness as the decay process rendered them non existent.

Although she was not really ready for what came next… The sudden surge of power from her opponent and the wind being forced from her as she was taken off her feet.

Being pushed backwards and up as her grip on his hair had a sudden yank before the rest of the hair she held came free and she found herself flying back over the venue.

A loud crash resounded as her body slammed into the venue chairs, breaking more than a few as gauntleted arms shifted about, her right coming up to be held against her chest, the other held out to the left as those now darkening brown eyes looked quizzically upon the hair held tightly within her fingers.

If she could laugh she would, flicking her fingers to have the hair and scalp? Fly out of her hand and land with a sickly slap against the back of one of the unbroken pristine white chairs.

“That was just gross.” The voice was raspy as her burning lungs began to take in air again, regulating her breathing to recover faster as this was not her first fight, nor would it be her last.

As her eyes fell upon the monk and Dzan they would now be filled in with an inky black, veins spreading outwardly over her face, those fingers were now black as well, all the way to the wrist, but they would only see the fingers due to the enchanted gauntlets covering the rest.

The woman would pause, allowing herself the moments needed to steady her breathing.

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[b]The Touch Wrote:

> :: After rescuing a dying mute in Sigils streets, an ancient force graced Jay with this unwanted gift; granting her access to the aspect of decay, and allowing the female brawler to become its embodiment. Essentially, this allows her to touch any physical/material substance and implant it with an infectious energy of rotting affluence. While markedly powerful, the “disease” takes time to manifest fully; the impact multiplying with each, successive, touch. While often expressed by touching the same target multiple times, this is not required…Meaning that she may increase the power of The Touch by utilizing it on, for example: a wall, a plant, a person, and then the wall again. Each successive touch increases the potency of the decay by one step (listed below), and progresses Jay one step closer to her “cool down” phase. That being said, she is only able to (safely) raise The Touch to it’s fifth (5th) step; risking damage to herself should she attempt to take it further. In order to continue the decay progression she must use this ability at least once every three (3) posts, or else the counter drops by one step. If forced into her cool-down phase, The Touch immediately resets all the way back to it’s first step after the five (5) round cool-down is complete.

Step One - Blackening of the surface touched: Causes localized burning sensation (similar to a serious sunburn), and tightness to the skin/scales/fur/etc. of any living creature; Weakens any non-living structure/object as if exposed to open flame for approximately a minute.

Post - 5

Darkest Silver Wrote:

> What a start to the fight, she had come in like a wrecking ball and the Monk had decided to disarm himself and go for a hand to hand combat style. It was not the smartest thing to do when faced with a raving lunatic, but hey at least he had balls. > > > > Jay didn’t get time to laugh, as they were both still in motion… Tenkai planting his hands on her Solar Plexus, Jay carrying her left hand over the shoulder guard to extend her fingers and grab a solid fist full of his hair ------ > > > > Post - 5

+++At this point the chainaxe would begin to scream in anger as he ran across the grounds. He was going to axe that little gakker in the back. His eyes burned with hatred as he cleared the distance almost instantly. Anger overtaking his form as the daemon fed on it and strengthened it. The rage seemingly to bulk him out as he went to kill the slith-eater than brought him back to this Throne-damned planet and plane of existence. Though, as he got closer he'd drop the chainaxe, it still running, on the ground three feet from them and then took hold of the sledgehammer in both hands to slam it into the back of the monk's head while he fought and did his woowoo slith to stop the hair grap (maybe it was like a gecko's tail and it just popped off???). In actuality, he was aiming to break Jay's hand, but a massive sledgehammer to the back of the head would still do damage, right? Actually, probably not do to woowoo slith. But he did it anyway.

SHHHNNNNK!

There.

Artanthos knew it was a matter of time before his thrusts would find purchase against D’s feline form. From the split-second view he had of the strike, it did not appear debilitating, but such wounds had a cumulative effect. Erelong, D’ would find herself weakening from the blood loss, and would find it more difficult to contend with the Hellknight’s assaults. Of course, D’ could very well deliver something in return that Artanthos could not contend with before she wore out. He had to be wary of whatever this woman could feasibly accomplish, lest he fall prey to arrogance.

And, as if on queue…

*”!?!”*

D’ shifting back to her original form was to be expected. Her feline transformation, as agile as it had been, simply was not sufficient to dealing damage to a man cap-a-pied in hardened plate. What Artanthos had not been expecting was that the woman had yet another state, and one that could now easily loom over him. Artanthos made an instinctive shuffle step backward, but it didn’t matter - D’ was on him like the monster she had just become, and she was not giving him any chance to retreat.

There was one factor that Artanthos found solace in. D’s left hand came thrusting in, her claws splayed open like a bear trap waiting to snap shut, and tried to get at the Hellknight’s throat. Artanthos was not wearing a maille coif this tournament, so such a grab could have proven disastrous. However, instead of a muscular neck, D’s hand found the lower visor of Artanthos’ helmet instead. As he had been looking down during his attempts to skewer the feline woman, and as she transformed and lunged up, the small gap between his visor and cuirass was now gone. Instead, plate was flush against plate, with no immediate room to shove fingers, let alone a hand, into.

That was not to say that D’s grip didn’t find purchase; indeed, Artanthos was alarmed as the woman’s grip began to compress the sides of his visor as it attempted to find the grip she was viciously seeking out.

With that, though, he was afforded time.

Trying to throw someone by their helmet, even with it buckled to a cuirass, was a difficult order. D’ likely could compensate quickly enough, given the sudden boost in mass and strength she now wielded ruthlessly, but it would not be as easy as if she had managed to get her throttling grip around Artanthos’ neck. Still, she was moments away from forcing that gap open. That, and oddly enough, the Hellknight had gone still.

Very still.

Artanthos attempted to resist having his neck cranked back, his helmet forced up, but it was no use. D’ had become too strong for him. It only took moments longer, but the werecat’s lunging grab pushed her opponent’s head up, forcing them to look at each other once more.

What stared back into D’s predatory visage, though, was not the cold, impassive visor she had seen throughout their duel.

In its stead, *wrath* gazed out, burning into her sight like the glow of a dying star.

And, in that instant - as D’ would begin her throw, and unleashed her energy - the Hellknight moved.

The noise was deafening. It cracked through the air as a physical force, as though something had detonated between the two fighters. For observers, it’d appear to them as though they had blinked and missed what had transpired. The truth was more alarming. In a burst of unleashed power and speed, Artanthos had managed to move his sword - practically swing it, despite the foot of distance that separated D’ and him. The angles, the proximity, the timing; all of this should have made the attack impossible.

Unfortunately for D’, Artanthos possessed some tricks of his own up his armoured sleeve.

The Hellknight had dubbed the technique ‘Unfettered Strike.” Over his years of training, Artanthos had developed the ability to tap into levels of raw, physical potential that no conscious, human mind could ever wield. It was the mad strength of the condemned, the desperate backed into the corner with no other recourse. The strength that allowed man to accomplish what monsters could wield. Revanchist had been angled down and to his right during the stab; this put the montante in an extraordinarily awkward position as D’ transformed. Worse yet, her hand was interposed between them, which would have made it impossible to maneuver the blade out between the two of them and into a proper position to strike from.

By drawing forth that hysterical strength, though, Artanthos’ arms had snapped Revanchist up to his left like a lever - right hand gripping the flat of his blade tighter than any vise and pushing up, while his left pushed down on the pommel. Artanthos normally used Unfettered Strike to cut through things he physically could not realistically harm under normal circumstances. He had bisected fully armoured men in the past; smashed rocks and hacked down entire trees in one fell swoop.

The thigh of a humanoid woman, as thickly-muscled and fur-clad as it was, would fare little better.

Artanthos would pay for using the move. It was a sickly unnatural movement; the power and speed in which he cut with his sword literally displaced the air around it in thundering snap. The muscles in his arms literally tore from the technique, partially shredded from the attempt. Moreover, he had no way of stopping D’s next blast. This time, his helmet gave out. Plate crumpling, the sallet blasted its way off of his head, its strap tearing and sending the ruined piece flying off of him. Artanthos’ neck seized up, and his brain rattled to the point where he felt he would expel his earlier meal all over his foe.

As for the throw...it yet remained to see if it would go through, due to the potential issue of having a two-handed sword cut through most, if not the entirety, of D's right thigh.

[9]

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Unfettered Strike Wrote:

> Unfettered Strike: In times of desperation, Artanthos can draw upon reserves of strength that go beyond what his willpower is normally capable of mustering. Artanthos can deliver an Unfettered Strike by briefly focusing for a moment, bringing forth a subconscious strength that can smash granite, chop deeply into trees, and even cut and pierce through plate armour. The strike comes does not come without consequences, though, as it damages Artanthos’ muscles from its sheer power, limiting him to using this only twice per match. (3 turn cooldown; shares cooldown with Overwhelming Strike)