Hold My Beer vs Retribution [Page 6]

The noise Revanchist made as it cut through the air was like the damned come, an unearthly wail that cried out for D’s soul. Artanthos had transitioned into the attack at such velocities that any spectators would struggle to keep up with the movements. The strike had been aimed at D’s back, but the feline woman yet possessed startling levels of alacrity herself. She twisted, turning her hunched frame toward Artanthos’ flanking position; this had exposed her upper right arm to the wrathful cut that continued its descent.

Yet, she was not done. That movement transitioned smoothly into a backward lean, while her supporting arms threw her body, and legs, at Artanthos.

Artanthos didn’t even had time to gasp as D’s right foot slammed into the arch of his left sabaton and greave, his eye snapping open from the pain. Armoured though he may have been, the kick managed to hit a joint, and it had packed more than enough power behind it to make it count. The Hellknight felt his foot twist and buckle to the side from the kick - felt his muscles tear and ligaments strain - and knew instantly that D’ had scored a devastating hit. Moreover, he felt his balanced compromised from the attack. Vertigo gripped his senses as he felt the beginnings of his fall.

But that didn’t matter. None of that mattered. He saw what awaited below him, past D’s outstretched arms and grasping claws. He saw where the arc of his cut had left Revanchist.

Without thinking, without a moment of hesitation, Artanthos twisted his arms, bent his right elbow up, and plunged the tip of his montante into D’s solar plexus.

In a terrible sense of irony, D’s peculiar dodge had saved her arm from getting nearly severed, and simultaneously put her body in front of Revanchist’s point. With Artanthos already falling, it was a simple matter to transition out of his prior combo and into a simple, yet even deadlier, thrust. With D’s arms preemptively reaching for Artanthos, there’d be almost no time to try and stop the attack; even if her insane speed came into play, there was no feasible way to stop the blade, with Artanthos’ weight behind it and the steel already slick with her blood.

Upon penetration, Artanthos would continue the twisting motion. Past experience had taught him that such a thrust would tear muscle and meat in a way that’d make it almost impossible for his foe to breathe, let alone continue to fight. In addition, thrusts to that area were not immediately fatal, as they did not run through any vital organs.

Yet, with the pain D’ was about to experience, she very well might wish she were dead.

[15]

It wasn’t long before the two were facing each other again, a stand off of sorts as both spent the precious seconds recovering.

Her from being winded, him from being knocked to the ground by her teammate.

However as Jay was in the first stage of decay she was a lot calmer than before, cold and calculating even. The beast inside had changed, with the decay kicking in she was less prone to rushing things, but instead becoming even more dangerous.

As the sword moved back to its owner the black eyed beast narrowed her gaze at the monk.

Woowoo s**t.

There was always some kind of woowoo s**t.

But that didn’t matter, Jay specialised in dispatching high tier magic users who had gone ‘rogue’, it was a lucrative business…

However it was not just limited to them, it included anyone who had ever escaped the fate of death and disrupted the balance. It was her ‘duty’ as the gods chosen to keep the balance in check, her natural disposition to violence was desired, even if she lost her humanity because of it.

So the woman would wait, bringing her blades up to a semi guard, slightly outstretched, her right hand more forward than the left.

It would be up to the monk to move first this time.

Tenaki Matsumoto Wrote:

And just like that, it was over.

It came without ceremony, without nuance. No elaborate devices or deceits, here, just an opportune moment, and several inches of cold steel to the gut.

Sweat sluiced down Artanthos’ brow as he loomed over his fallen foe, dripping down to intermingle with the blood that flowed from the last wound. D’s screams - roars - were a physical force, buffeting the Hellknight’s grim features. They were their owner’s last moments of defiance, and had Artanthos been any less jaded, he would have been moved by the powerful display. Spending a life dedicated to ending the life of your fellow man had seen this same scene played out over and over, like the cyclical tempering of a forgemaster handling their wares.

Artanthos had seen this before, and would see it again. There was solace in the fact that he did not have to kill this woman, though. She had done naught to earn a visitation from that aspect of him.

In the terrible moments after Revanchist entered its quarry, Artanthos found enough purchase - enough resistance - against the weapon to partially arrest his fall. Not wanting to further D’s agony, he instead sacrificed his own; his wounded left foot found enough time to come about and catch itself before Artanthos would fall fully. The sensation of torn meat forcibly jostled into a stable platform was enough for the Hellknight to bite his lip till it drew blood, but it stopped him from tearing deeper into his opponent.

Artanthos would have been content to wait; for D’ to capitulate, or for her to pass out from pain and exsanguination. Either way, there was no returning to the fray from the wounds she had received.

But that did not mean she couldn’t try to bring him down with her.

Recognition flooded Artanthos’ mind as D’s arms continued to grasp futilely up at him, only to suddenly jerk tightly towards his face. Despite her increased height, though, her arms could not reach up to grasp at his head, or even close to it. That would not stop the onrush of power that was to come, but it certainly saved his skull from a crushing blow. Without hesitation, Artanthos relinquished his grip upon Revanchist and crossed his forearms before his face, left above right. It was all he could realistically do in the predicament he found himself in.

All at once, several things transpired.

Purple energy erupted from D’s hands, surging upward in a violent wave. Her puissance encountered Artanthos’ awaiting vambraces, and cracked into them with enough force to fill the air of with the sound of warping steel. He felt something snap in his left forearm, and yet more pain was added to his being. His elbows bent with the force, and his gauntleted hands were forced up, where the sides of them smacked into his forehead.

And, in a move that Artanthos literally did not see coming, he soon discovered he had been flanked.

It felt like an enemy knight had ridden up behind him and slammed the spiked end of their warhammer into his backplate. The steel buckled inward, even tearing slightly, conveying as much force into his back as D’s strike to the shoulder had delivered. Unfortunately, this one had been delivered with a weapon more than capable of combating a plate harness. Artanthos gaped, eye widening, as he felt his pain reach a crescendo before seemingly fading from existence. Detached utterly from reality for that moment, his legs gave out; specifically, his damaged left gave first, and he fell forward and to the left, collapsing heavily next to his fallen foe.

Falling to the ground in harness was a torture in of itself, like having broom handles thrust into your body from every conceivable angle.

That was enough to bring Artanthos back down to reality. Enough to acknowledge that, as he lay on the ground, panting heavily, that just about every part of his body was in pain. Blinking, he craned his neck up, managing to bring his gaze level with the woman who had just made his back a living hell. It was in that moment that his mind conveniently recalled Arthur and Tenkai explaining the nuances of the tournament’s “Striker” system.

”Whoreson,” Artanthos spat, his bloodied lip sending a small spray over his cuirass, ”I had forgotten about that.”

Groaning, he turned his gaze to the left, attempting to see what D’ had managed to accomplish in the interim, sword in her abdomen and all.

Hoping that she had decided to stay in place and wait for medical assistance.

[16]

Darkest Silver Wrote:

With Jay assuming a more calculated posture with her trench knives, it seemed like it was now Tenkai’s turn to take the initiative, and the monk wasted little time. As much as he was wont to do so, now was probably not the time for him to ponder the greater meaning behind the stroke of fate that brought him and his opponent together in combat. It was likely that it ultimately mattered little to Jay in the end, either way.

The monk made a careful approach, one passing step after another, gauging any reaction Jay might give. There was no furious charge into measure for him, nor was he moving at a snail’s pace. Just carefully taking ground until the right moment.

Once he was but seven-and-a-half feet away from Jay, Tenkai struck.

Winding his blade downward and around up over his head with his left hand leading, Tenkai took a wide passing step with his left foot to further close the distance. He swung his blade downward at a slight angle with the full extent of his left arm, aiming for Jay’s forward right hand or wrist, whichever seemed the least armored.

At this distance it, it would almost feel like Tenkai was too far away to hit Jay with is sword. Was it another one of his special abilities that seemed to vex his opponents so much? Hardly. With 30 inches of blade and roughly two feet or so of arm length, the three feet covered by his step would bring him just within range, but only enough to hit Jay with the very tip of his sword.

**七本!

[7]**

Cooldowns:

Souten Goushou Ha - 0

Nighthunter Wrote:

Arthur took full advantage of the short pause in the action, utilizing the aftermath of his bold declaration to uncharacteristically stuff his face with wedding cake. It was an incredibly messy affair as the mutant took bite after bite of the slab of pastry, careful not to drop much of it in the process. He wasn’t the wasteful type after all, and it was just so good. He listened to the operator but didn’t react to his words right away. An action that could be deemed disrespectful, but Arthur was rightfully preoccupied with his food and Enness had proved a good sport thus far.

“Here’s to the finals then,” the mage offered, speaking through a mouthful of cake and toasting with what remained in his hand by raising it in salute to his opponent. Arthur chomped down on the last morsels, leaving his hand and the corners of his mouth covered in vanilla crumbs and stained raspberry red. “Though I wouldn’t recommend ever taking a seat during a bout again. The others aren’t so very nice nor confident enough in themselves to ignore such opportunities. Don’t test fate. Make yourself vulnerable before those unsavory types and you’ll get yourself killed here.”

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his wedding tux, Arthur began to hop on the balls of his feet once more, getting his blood pumping as he stepped away from the chair he had propped his foot on. It would have been strategic to walk Enness down and keep him at the end of his jab, but it was time to up the ante. Arthur took a long stride with his left leg before bursting into explosive action. Suddenly, the mage hopped off the ground and switched his feet, his right foot replacing his left and vice versa. His shuffling feet was used to propel himself powerfully towards Enness, covering the remaining distance in a single leap. At first, the mutant raised his right knee and lifted his arms into defensive positions near his head. It would seem as if Arthur planned to strike his opponent with a flying knee, but it was an expertly drilled feint. The mage’s knee drifted off towards the right as he reached the halfway point in his jump, turning the fake attack offline and off target but also opening up his hips as he swung through with his left leg.

The mage launched a jumping round kick. His left leg swinging from his left to his right, aiming to have the lower ridge of his shin collide with Enness’ lower left rib cage. In particular, he isolated the area he had punched earlier, hoping for another liver shot with an ever greater blow than any he had thrown so far. The power behind the blow making it both complicated to block and difficult to catch. Meanwhile, Arthur leaned back with his upper body with the kick and kept his arms up, using the length of his leg to keep himself out of range of Enness’ massive fists.

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Post: 7

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