Silver Dragons vs Smash & Sass [Page 4]

The hell was this?

V was hit by the silly string as he moved towards his foe, it didn't particularly do anything to the slime immediately so it continued with it's circular sweep with the surfboard after the drop kick. Luckily for the slime his foe was still just barely in range of the three meter board for him to be nailed. The slime went to extend his arm across his body with the surfboard in an arc starting from right to left but found that he was unable to fully move his shoulder to make the proper elongation. Unaware of the strings properties, the slime continued his spinning attack.

The slime had moved mass around in his body to increase his strength in the left arm, effectually powering it up to rip the string off the ground. In doing so the slime ended up ripping his shirt. The right side of his shirt was torn open by the string and the crate flying in the air, his left shoulder tore a bit but not enough to dislodge the chunk from V's shoulder. On the right side of his body the string attached to the ground ripped off of it, carrying the crate of Ryugi-oh's with it as the slime rotated. While the slime untwisted his body after the spin, his bottom half pivoting and rotating to match the top, V was confused as to why a create was sailing towards his opponent. He knew the attack felt heavier but the slime had accounted that to be from the string and it's sticky quality, but maybe the weight of the crate had slowed the slime down as well.

The silly string on his chest had been ripped off during his rotation, damaging the membrane but not tearing it. The burning sensation that humans felt was present on the slime's skin, and chemical effects were visible though V didn't appear to mind terribly about the damage The string on his right arm however had remained on through the swing, with the attached crate of Ryugio-ohs now soaring and pulling on his arm V felt a tearing sensation as it pulled at his body. The string partially detached from his arm, the crate shifting for a moment before it either hit his opponent or the ground.

This string was troublesome at best, but the slime didn't have much time to loose, if he didn't get close to his opponent before they darted away again the slime would likely get locked down. the string attached and stretched to the crate was still taught and the slime lumbered forward doling it's best to keep it that way by using the nose of his surfboard to keep under the string so it wouldn't touch the ground.

show spoilerhide spoiler

[Stat Block]

Liters of Ooze Left:

5000

Organelles Damaged

None

Membranes in storage

5 Outer, 2 Inner, +1 outer at end of post.

Membrane Generation Cycle

2 out of 2

Membranes Used this post

0

Damage taken this post

100 from string tearing on body lbs

Wounds

Rash on chest, Rash on arm - Both from silly string tearing.

Speed changes due to skill use

None

Current distribution of mass

Left arm - 16% (Decrease by 1%)

Right arm - 16% (Decreased by 1%)

Left leg - 26% (Increased by 9%)

Right leg - 16% (Decrease by 1%)

Torso - 19% (Decrease by 1%)

Head - 7% (Decrease by 5%)

Surfboard Cooldown

Ready

Skill used -

Mass shift: show spoilerhide spoilerMoving the proportion of ooze inside of him, V can shift his weight around anything inside his outer membrane. Membrane with ‘bones’ can support up to 50% of V’s original mass in one location, but membrane without ‘bones’ can only support up to 25% of V’s max weight. If V exceeds this weight in a Mass Shift he will need to reinforce the area with an extra outer membrane for every 10%. If he does not, he the at the start of the next post he will lose the % of mass over the threshold as it seeps out of him, damaging the membrane in that area. Mass does not automatically shift back.

1 post cool down, limited movement next post, reducing max running speed and augmenting strikes an movement around where the mass shift took place.

[2]

EDIT: Edited to accuracy reflect Bob's attack. First iteration of the post did not have it correctly set up.

"Listen to me. Cypher." The jeering and taunting voice earlier had melted away into a grim and almost hissing grate of gravel. "I can't... stop what's rising behind us." The pain of his groin was wincing into actuation but getting mildly suppressed by the pumping adrenaline. "**Your legs are wounded. I'm sure you have more shots to fire from that device and I've more snakes I can call at a moment's notice. But.. we're going to die, Cypher. I, you, your teammates and mine. Maybe not Moonblade but absolutely the rest of us. We're all going to die. It'll take a little time. There's some layers of packaging, crates to get through. But just a little time.**"

One. He had one more shot and knew it, possibly in more ways than one. Because where he was laying on the ground with a leg that likely wasn't going to support his weight Omi had....one wound? Cypher could see where he'd cracked the noodle armed mans vambrace earlier on, when he'd taken that pot shot. The fire behind the snakemancer began to pop as scattered cereal bits went off individually under the heat and drew his eye for amoment as Omi waxed on about how he couldn't save either one of them and all. This close the heat was pretty intense and the aelf wondered how long they could do this for, this pantomime of gentility, before the whole place went up in flames and explosions.

1 minute? 2 minutes? Probably less he decided, even though he had no idea of the chemical mechanics in play, it was just that kind of day. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and let his spent left Beetle-gun drop to the ground with a clatter, wondering if he'd ever be able to pick it up again and not caring overmuch as the pain in his left leg began to ramp up.

"Barsait.....you are such a piece of s**t."

The words were tired, heartfelt and sincere as all could be. Omi Barsait was a piece of s**t who had killed them all by lighting a fire so close to so much explosive. Cypher, had he the time, may have goggled at the stupidity of it all if he had the time. But he didn't, instead he shoved the remaining beetle-gun back into its holster and began the process of standing up, watching Omi as the man became back lit by even more flames as bottles of Fizzy Izzy shattered in the intense heat. It was safe to say that while they played through their display of gentlemanly behavior the fire had spread to more boxes. The sounds of bottles breaking was muffled under the crackle of flame. He wondered how long it would take before one of the cereal boxes caught? Eh, worry about that later. For Now...

he had one last thing to do. Cypher stood tall and straight with his hands bare but for the gloves, held out to either side of him in an almost accepting gesture, as if he knew he deserved to be hit and was just going to take it, which he likely was as he leaned his weight onto his uninjured right leg.

" But I guess we gotta do this yeah?"

[7]

Good sport!

There was a shine in Omi's eyes, and not of the brilliant yellow variety. Not even the reflection of embers threatening to wash over him from behind, a position he knew would not be tenable for long. No.. it was excitement. The lad, Cypher, had seemingly accepted his offer. An offer for a man's duel. A trade of fists.

However, as Omi outstretched his wounded left arm into a boxer's out-boxing posture loftily, left boot sliding along the floor forward while his right slid backwards to obtain this combat stance -- you had to understand something about the mentality of this snake-clad philosopher. He was a very honor bound individual. Sentimentalism regarding combat, romanticism about the endeavor of fighting, consumed him. And yet.. what was honorable to him, might not be compatible with what is honorable to you.

If a child were to attack him with an earnest intent to kill, it'd be shameful and wrong to not oblige their intent and beat them until they were crippled.

If a woman employed their wiles to try and trick him before drawing a dagger, they bypassed the open declaration of combat and were trash. It was only correct regardless of their motivation to crack their neck.

Theft was immoral unless successful. Then it was justified and blessed by fate.

Where was this all going? Simple. A true duel to the death between two warriors meant that you sought to gift your foe a sense of defeat. Not just winning a match, you needed to utterly crush their spirit via all means possible, soothing them with peace of mind that there was nothing better they could have done --- theirs was a fate was to suffer a crippling loss and there was no shame on their part because they gave their all and their flame was still snuffed out. To that honorable end, no means were too low. None.

Like telling lies.

Or like placing weaponry beforehand to abuse against someone with their hands to their sides. Buying a little more time before your newly developed special ability sapping your strength ended and you could begin bombarding your haggard enemy with snakes was also rather enjoyable. What this really meant was,

"But I guess we gotta do this yeah?"

"Yeah."

Not a beat passed before Omi's right foot suddenly flew upward, abusing the concrete floor's smooth texture to fly up. Like he were punt kicking a ball in front of him. And this would make no sense, as Barsait hadn't closed their remaining gap for this to even seem like a plausible attack at all; he was 5'11" with slightly longer limbs than the average for that height, but even then... was the heat beginning to catch the back of his clothing aflame driving him mad?

Or had Omi intentionally positioned himself so close to the flames and kept talking to help Cypher forget the now alcohol soaked fireball of a jacket from earlier was just behind him, and fluidly hooked it with his boot to whip it towards the open embrace of Cypher? It was a thick and very long trench coat of sorts, made of fire lizard leather after all -- great for keeping the ball of flames whizzing at the leg injured gunman alive!

Then Omi smacked his right boot down and began to dash towards Cypher (and rather importantly, away from the flames which by now had ignited back of his right leg and boot). If that device he holstered still had ammo, if the boy tried to fling the jacket back at Omi, if the plant exploded, if they died... so what?! The cameras were still golden for a bit. They'd show the world Cypher crumbled like a heap on the ground before that was a problem!

[8]

Water. Fire. If they had an earthquake and a strong wind, they'd be able to cove the primary elements before long!

However, Omi's mad dash inconceivably stopped on a dime, screech of his boot squeaking against the cement even as he began to strafe to his right, Cypher's left.. away from him? He was just outside of Cypher's reach. So close. Around them, behind them, above them. Supply racks, boxes, crates of nightmare fuel. Yet...

That smile had to be deleted. What was it, some forlorn hope Cypher had of the crates behind them ushering in Omi's demise, the flame eating his leg spreading faster than all else, the popping sounds disjointed from their breaths deleting the snake charmer and not this gunman? No no no, no. For what returned Cypher's lips curling upward, was nausea. A wave of illness overtook Omi's face in an instant, before he began to vomit. His cheeks bulged, and then the contents chunked outward.

Yet, instead of bile and discarded food, the return of the signature Serpentine Art rared its ugly head, Omi's body reaching his gift again. And what did it herald?

(Viper Rain)*Active, 2 tokens, 5 turn cooldown*

Omi can - much to his displeasure when forced to deploy this - regurgitate a serpent. This one seems to be a floating skull about the size of an adult male human’s head but with viper features chiseled into it. It’ll float in the air as it too vomits -- its payload… a shower.

This shower is a spray that covers the area in a cone, origin point one foot ahead of Omi’s mouth, reach being 5 feet as well as max width and reaching this width after only one foot.

This liquid is very similar to the Ranged Sticker (see above)’s payload, except 2nd degree burns. Otherwise, it behaves the same: it’s hot but very short lived.

With Omi's largely black attire now and the looming threat cracking higher, he resembled a black african spitting cobra more than any viper but, naming convention aside..

2/3 tokens utilized.

Typically, this was a ranged maneuver Omi'd deploy overhead some ways away, to catch opponents hiding behind cover unawares and rain down the nightmare liquid upon them as an aerial drop. However, Cypher's refusal or perhaps inability to leave his location gave him the pause needed to instead try firing it... point blank. Rotated from pointing down, to pointing forward. Creating a 5' round 5' spread wave of what had earlier sizzled into Cypher's leg so intimately. It was a vicious and cruel assault; where it wasn't quite as hot as the Ranged Cobra's spit earlier, it more than made up for that in sheer volume and coverage.

The Smash and Sass Boy wouldn't have to wait for their cereal grave to finish sparking up around them, nor would he have to wait for the embers on their clothing to become their clothing. As drool seeped from Omi's lips with a slight queasiness following regurgitating a skull-like object that faded away from his mouth, he tried to stand his ground even as a wall of flames licked at his backside and abandoned tools, nuts, and bolts blasted by with a sharpness that cut into his damaged left arm where raw, water turning to mist as it smacked down Omi's hair and flesh to mat the cinders and sweat, mingling into his swan song.

And there he stood steadfast again, arms at the ready, roughly two feet to his right of where he had started.

MagnusXL Wrote:

> Who designed this place anyway, Wile E. Coyote?

Wile E. Coyote would have used better safety standards. And also more anvils. Clearly these dastardly corporate tightwads had used the cheapest shelves possible with less built-in crumple zones to prevent this exact scenario.

Well, maybe not this EXACT scenario.

Only logic and reason could have stopped all this from coming to pass, and that was clearly as bankrupt in this situation as Con-Coction Food's accounts. I mean, who makes a cereal and beverage weapons-grade anyway? That's a TERRIBLE idea! It's almost like someone with a lot of money was more interested with big numbers than making sure all the fine print was in order and sold out to the lowest bidder! Who could possibly be so negligent and careless! It's Moonblade by the way. The answer is Moonblade.

Rance, however, didn't care about that. Property damage came with the territory when you were over six feet tall and carried a sword as heavy as a three-year-old toddler, as well as having a proper dislike of walls in obnoxious places. He'd also sucked down a good bit of Fizzy Izzy before the fight had started and the buzz was starting to hit him now. Things were finally heating up too, and that was despite all the fire. Because holy s**t, there was suddenly a lot of that from over where some of his other teammates were fighting. And unbeknownst to Rance, there was going to be a lot more of it where that came from! And a lot closer to home too! It was like he won the lottery, if the lottery was fire. Also explosions, but, see, that was fine. Everything was fine.

Rance was a hearty b*****d, and it'd take a little more than some silly fire and explosions to stop him. I mean, if he couldn't weather some of those, how was he supposed to be able to fight mages? That was half of what they liked to do! That and RUN AWAY, apparently. Or maybe that was just what Moonblade liked to do. Bloody coward... But on the bright side, Rance had managed to funnel the mage into a few directions that he could have some control over. He had the high ground. Insert some meme here. Rance could manage that at least. And manage it he would as he crested the falling stack, just in time to see the mage RUN AWAY (bloody coward), minus a spear (the sword was in the sheath), and for the fire suppression sprinklers to activate, dousing him. That was odd... Not the sprinklers. That made sense. Okay, maybe a mage having a disappearing weapon wasn't THAT odd. They had lots of magic tricks up their flowey flowey sleeves, but considering he'd made a fairly big deal about dual wielding his weapons just a few seconds prior it seemed strange that he couldn't just carry them with him, unless...

Then, the bottom of the stack exploded. But not due to the Ryugi-O's...

show spoilerhide spoilerA pure block of sodium would sizzle and produce hydrogen gas for a few moments before exploding from the heat of the exothermic reaction even if completely immersed in water. The wet tip of Moonblade's spear piercing deep into the cereal boxes wouldn't have done very much by itself simply due to the lack of adequate water for the sodium in the boxes to properly react with. The cereal was not completely sodium, it was also lots of fiber, air pockets, etc. The only thing that made it any faster was the acid...fire...stuff. And that was because the temperature was already higher than normal. So, logically, there was no way for the cereal to explode so quickly, even with the sprinklers going, and even if soaked. That, and any water that WAS on the spear tip probably would have been vaporized by the heat of the flames anyway preventing any instant explosions regardless.

However, it wasn't really the Ryugi-O's that needed to be the greatest cause of concern. Even if they didn't explode immediately under Moonblade's spear, or even while a bit wet, something else would...

THE FIZZY IZZY

Alcohol itself, usually, wasn't the thing that burned, at least not immediately, when set ablaze. What actually burned were the vapors coming off of the booze. But, if you were to vaporize it, say, with a really hot flaming spear, it would almost certainly combust, and explode, and much more readily, violently, and dangerously than the sodium in the cereal containing the face of that guy that was still going to sue the pants off of Moonblade unless he settled.

So, the short version? Things were gonna explode, just not from the cereal. Not immediately, anyway. That storage self was packed full of BOTH products. Which one was first or second to get demolished by Moonblade's spear wouldn't actually matter in the short or long run.

The pallets of Fizzy Izzy packed alongside the Ryugi-O's exploded like fragile glass when pierced, because that's what they were -- fragile glass that carried highly concentrated alcoholic product that was vaporized by the heat of Moonblade's spear almost instantly. And not figuratively either. It was literally turned into vapor, which then ignited, and exploded, which set off a chain reaction. That explosion, though, was funneled out in the direction of Moonblade's spear, as that was the path of least resistance. This lead to the stack of boxes, or at least the few that had been pierced by Moonblade's spear, actually acting like a rocket. This is also somewhat literal, as there was a time that alcohol was indeed used as a rocket fuel.

The thrust from the combustion process hurled the bottom out from under the stack as Rance crested the top, and leapt to the next one, shortly before it fell. The water from above didn't serve to quench the alcohol fire immediately either, and shards of glass from the detonation would act like shrapnel, which would chase Moonblade as he ran through the calamitous combusting cavalcade of Con-Conction Food's concentrated killer cash-grabs. ******** alliteration.

The key word here was ran, because Moonblade liked doing that. This time, though, Rance was following behind him, riding the falling dominoes, bow drawn, and firing a rain of four arrows down into Moonblade's area as he-- Wait. How the hell did he do that? That was like, solid stacks of backstocked pallets on those shelves down to the ground. Rance noted that this mage could phase through solid material, because OF COURSE he could, and decided NOT to shoot his arrows. ******** mages, man. He'd hit nothing but boxes at that rate. He was an amazing shot with his bow, easily as good as any exceptional archer, except perhaps those that specifically specialized in only using bows, but he wasn't THAT good. Which is to say he wasn't likely to hit his mark when his target was phasing through matter, or squeezing through holes in the space-time continuum, while there was a downpour from above, explosions happening behind him, his footing was moving due to the shelving falling, and only a few moments of visibility showed him where his opponent was as he chased him over the falling racks.

Yes, Rance was just NOT that good.

Instead, he continued to follow behind, the only thing allowing him to easily keep track of Moonblade being that he actually had less st to avoid so long as he kept moving away from the epicenter of the explosions that were starting to snap and crackle behind him, whereas Moonblade had to deal with large solid obstacles ahead of him. Since he had some time to prepare, Rance slung his bow and instead pulled free one of his special tools after casually dropping the 4 arrows he'd prepared to fire at Moonblade. He was now down to 16**. The arrow he pulled free, however, was one of two Barbed Arrows, and he quickly went about pulling a bit of rope from his pack to tie it to the back of the projectile. While he didn't dream he'd need it immediately, it was better to be prepared for the possible eventuality that he got to reel in Moonblade like a fish on the end of a hook...

[5]

[9]

Put simply, Omi was not that fast. It took him a significant kind of adrenaline rush just to run at levels that might be expected of a trained warrior. His gift of the crimson serpent allowed him odd forms of extreme alacrity, as Cypher had tasted a limited variant thereof, but that was only so much. No, even if he were an extremely agile and speedy individual, the dash of sorts deployed by Smash and Sass member Cypher was simply too fast and two close to Omi's center of gravity. Sidestepping it was impossible. Due to its placement, hopping over it in time or ducking was impossible. Standing his ground was impossible. Impossible impossible impossible.

Yet, he did come up with a rather simple counter measure as the serpent skull wastefully deployed its contents well past the oncoming humanoid missile foot-first. What was it?

5'11" Omi was at the least slightly taller than your average man. Easily half a foot on his opponent at any rate. And his limbs.. they were longer than you would expect for someone at that height even still, ironic in fitting a lanky snake motif. His arms were outstretched still, too. Of course, deflecting the blur of motion was out of the question. However... snapping shut his abnormally durable fingertips under sharp needled gauntlet tips at the last possible instant around the boy's leg, gripping tighter than an average man could, enduring the friction and enabling the compression to avoid just tearing pant legs off...

Quote: Wrote:

> Despite his assuredly human nature, there is a quirk to Omi’s bodily makeup that does pose questions. His teeth and nails are noticeably sharper than your average human’s, capable of rending flesh. Notably what this translates to: where biting carelessly could rip the canines right out of your average man’s mouth, his mouth’s structure seems to resist this somewhat-- as does his fingertips, which do not bleed or bruise after scraping down an opponent’s face, and are sharp enough to leave agonizing surface level bleeding scrapes. Needless to say, this has been discovered after a fair amount of testing the premise. > > > > In all other ways, they are normal. Eg they aren’t of absurd length or capable of penetrating armored surfaces. They’re just able to endure punishment. > > > > ///// > > > > Protective handgear, their only real noteworthy feature is that the sharp tips of each finger have a very small hole in each. These allow for easy flow of the serpent mass Omi produces.

That was doable.

Omi would be flung backwards, the cement floor and its debris a poor stopgap for him. However, he'd be dragging the now very off-balance Cypher with him by the calf under the backspace of his protective kneepads to make sure and dig into flesh through jeans, even as spit flung from his lips along with the air from his lungs --- Barsait wouldn't let go. Would the boy collide with the floor and drag his skull through broken glass and flames? Or would he ski by one awkward leg as he drank the secondhand fire whilst sodium enriched explosives embraced the two bodies entering a sea of flames? Either way, let go Omi would not. Release Omi would not. Weaken his grip Omi would not.

By now, tools, crate fragments, destroyed glass bottles, and flames higher than either gentleman's body would be their new battleground for the fleeting moments they had consciousness. Even breathing in the heated air with its various particulates would be disastrous; and rest assured their bodies, their clothing, their skin, their hair as Omi lurched backwards in his long and forceful "slide" backwards would all be igniting. Hemorrhaging would commence. Their senses would erode. Their reason would fade. Their desire to scream would likely kill them, the air intake ushering in their end-- something Omi would briefly be incapable of thanks to his partner's deceitful foot drop. It was unlikely in the pain they were about to experience, possible for them to even have fine or rough motor control.

But there was one final... action Omi could take in this despair-laden situation.

Even as he'd fall backwards, his left arm began to pulsate and grow unnaturally. Like cancerous flesh. Bulge in plain view, crumbling Omi's balance even more. Bulbs of the cracked vembrace burst into view, snakes festering about it like ants swarming food.

[10 - Final.]

At this point, both men were in a train on tracks they couldn't dismount with their last stop in sight. This happened on the battlefield. Any errant mistake, any odd slip of mud or unforeseen environmental circumstance was in all likelihood your last. Any warrior worth their salt knew skill and tenacity only contributed a percentile value, 10 or maybe 20%, to the sum total of whether divine providence or perhaps "fate" deemed a battle's outcome.

The rest, a myriad of unknowns you did your best to dominate. Anyone who thought differently was inexperienced, naive, or perhaps just good at deluding themselves to make them feel better about the large degree of uncertainty any circumstance brought.

Omi hadn't the slightest clue Cypher could somehow mentally unload his firearms without actually holding them in his hands, anymore than Cypher likely knew precisely what Omi's signature technique The Serpent Art actually was save for being unpleasant. Such was a metahumanoid battle, in an extremely dangerous environment.

CRRRKKKK

Right past Omi's teeth, as his mouth was most certainly agape and wide at this point, went the bullet. "Past" might not be the correct term, as width at that angle would smash several lower jaw molars into his gums. Next, the jaw itself would dislocate and hang loose like a marionette with its strings cut. His lower cheek bone on left side would crack into dust; blood... untold quantities of blood as his tongue was severed outright from the force. Slightly longer canines than most served him poorly as his left would get ripped out from the root on to the tip, flames now dancing into the elongated orifice once called a mouth to immolate his inner mouth flesh -- roasting it into a cruel perversion of human flesh spaghetti and charred ash. It was a wave of nerve overriding force, traveling straight to his brain, which would send Omi into a state best described as "conscious but unresponsive" from the sheer overwhelming nature of it all.

However.

Yes. As Cypher had done his attack.. he would not pass out so freely.

It would have been nigh impossible to tell within the confines of their new and final flaming home, but Omi's left gauntlet fit over the wrist armor had been heating up something fierce in line with the bloated flesh from before. His torso armor opened at the wrist (to allow his hand free guidance into the vambrace) -- barely straining back the aforementioned cancerous bulb. As the final chitin bullet shot out.. so too did Omi's left hand. Not by physical strength, for Omi had precious little left in those final moments. Not by muscle. But yes... by [Beast Snaked.]

The average human arm weighs around 5.3% of your body weight. In Omi's case, that was just shy of 10 lbs. His gauntlets individually weighed roughly 4 lbs. A human hand tends to weigh around 0.6% of body weight, or slightly over one singular pound. That bulky, hyper cooked mess of a projectile would gore itself out of Omi's shoulder socket with a sudden and terrifying force.

His fingertips, gripping so tightly, would simply break concave from a flame backed launch along Cypher's body. Barsait hadn't needed to get a good look to know where Cypher's skull was. His hand's placement on the man's leg told him enough of that-- combined with the normally impossible distance and angle to land a striking blow Omi's left hand was at, even Cypher's arms acting as a sight window to the snake's jaw wouldn't be an obstruction. It would drill ahead, deep into the gunman's exposed (at that angle) left cheekbone and forward.

Normally, there would be some give -- but Omi's other arm was still grasping tight in his final moments. The only reprieve for Cypher's skull, given his turning to unconsciousness, would be a very awkward "left hook" into concrete. Else it would be the world's worst case of whiplash.

What was this? In so many words..

2/3 tokens consumed ---

Of course, he couldn't be sure it did the trick. What with his eyebrows now having ignited.

But Omi.. wasn't done yet! As he was given reconstructive dental surgery and had his brain turn to mush, his desperation to continue fighting gave way to one final act still, even as his left arm was now regardless of the outcome of blowing itself into his opponent's nigh corpse set on a painful recovery sequence that would never reach fruition.

Quote: Wrote:

> No plan survives contact with the enemy. Omi knows this better than anyone. If he receives a wound significant enough to cause massive bleeding, he can project his serpents into a binding ring that will sloppily close and cauterize most common injuries. > > > > Once in play, he cannot “deactivate” these snakes, meaning he cannot transfer over to his [SWRD] stance nor turn this off to obtain token usage back. Eg if someone were to deliver a massive blow to his left leg with a sword and gash it open, to avoid bleeding out, he could employ this dress- but would now only be able to utilize 2 tokens maximum for the remainder of the fight. > > > > In durability, they are not unlike leather armor, and accommodate only the area needed to bind a wound shut. These do not “cure” a wound, simply help mitigate immediate problems. > > > > One instance of a wound per use.

3rd token consumed and reserved for future non-use.. for all the good that does.

RNNNNNNK went snake jaw after snake jaw, vice gripping his mangled abomination of teeth and jaw flaps together from lower jar to upper maw with audible muffled cries of pain from the serpent artist. Dislodged and shattered teeth jaggedly ripped into his upper gums, 70% of his bone structure now painfully self-immolating as his tongue's flood of blood was burned horrifically.

Lacking oxygen, in severe disorienting pain all over his body, cooking like a turkey dinner head to toe, and incapable of moving his body now from the overwhelming dysphoria --- all this action had done... is given Omi the ability to remain conscious ever so slightly longer before the heat would collapse his major internal organs, even as his eyes hemorrhaged.

The final lucid thought in his mind: No way Cyber of Team Blast and a was gonna get up from that! He won!** .... He won? ... He ... won?

MagnusXL Wrote:

> > > "Hey guys! I'm Frogriel Toadblade. Rrrrbbttt~!"

Rance finished tying the rope to his Barbed Arrow, and then continued to ride the shelving ahead after Moonblade. It seemed he was incorrect. The mage, in fact, was not phasing through solid matter, not that it really mattered, he might as well have been. Leave it to a mage to be good at fleeing. Rance was not really surprised by this. Instead, Moonblade was apparently flexible enough to gargle his own balls, assuming he had any, because he had yet to grow a pair. Rance was not surprised by this either, as he assumed that this was the mage's other favorite pastime next to running away and thumbing his own butt.

Luckily, there was a wall ahead, and soon, he'd run out of places to run, at least until he found another place to go. Rance really had no other options other than to prepare to attack, and as such, he slipped the tied arrow back into his quiver, now prepped and ready, and pulled free another 4 arrows to take a shot when his line of sight was clear. The ball-gargler was mostly hidden for now, but that would change eventually. And when he DID get a clear shot, he'd let loose.

Also, there appeared to be some glowy s**t going on around his hand. This, again, did not surprise Rance, but it did give him hope that finally, after all the chasing, his opponent would finally do more than run. His battle-boner grew three sizes that day, and he kept up his chase, leaping across as the stacks fell in sequence to keep tabs on his prey as best as he could.

[6]