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 Posted: Thu Jul 06, 2006 11:40 pm
Acoustic shockwaves had the certain habit of dissipating rapidly with distance, and given the one between Number 66 and demi (underscore) devil, along with the continued strafing of the former, it should have been little surprise that by the tune a little birdy by the name of the Doppler Effect, the--
--THUNDER CANNON!!!
Began as a concussive force that was more than enough to give its caster an eye-ear-brain hemorrage (collect the whole set! TM), and towards its end concluded its existence as a brief turbulence that flew across the clothing of its intended target in a somewhat dramatic flair.
Other than that, it did quite little to affect the inspector save for running a bandaged finger and thumb across his Enfield cap, as if to tip his hat at his opponent. The wind might have blown it off. It just might have, maybe even if he hadn't touched it.
Dubious, that. Dooby dooby doob...doobies? eek
Now if it was lightning, circumstances would have differed.
A moment after the--
--THUNDER CANNON!!!
--was fired, both of the spring-launched canisters reached their intended destinations, giving what turned out to be incendiary grenades a little extra snap and twist before detonating upon impact from behind and on the left side of the opponent's body.
Insult to injury. The napalm would not stop burning hotter and hotter for another ten minutes, and already it would render paralysis upon a surrendering nervous system, to say nothing of an skeleton partially exposed and eventually charred.
In hindsight, slight armor was a bit of a blessing for the opponent. The phosphorus incendiary agent, possessed of a heat twice as intense as the napalm, would warp his blades to dulled museum pieces and do the same to any other metal on his person. To say nothing of his organic parts.
From the inspector's point of view, he saw only what might be a localized volcano eruption, wrathful clouds of black and orange punctuated by swaths of white-hot chemicals, so thick they were opaque.
His actions for the moment involved returning his right hand to the tip of a holster on his web belt and a singular flick of his left wrist...
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Posted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 12:12 am
Grim's narrator would rather give Ertai a b*****b than fight this ******** noob.
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Posted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 8:08 am
Cleric Pei Acoustic shockwaves had the certain habit of dissipating rapidly with distance, and given the one between Number 66 and demi (underscore) devil, along with the continued strafing of the former, it should have been little surprise that by the tune a little birdy by the name of the Doppler Effect, the-- --THUNDER CANNON!!!Began as a concussive force that was more than enough to give its caster an eye-ear-brain hemorrage (collect the whole set! TM), and towards its end concluded its existence as a brief turbulence that flew across the clothing of its intended target in a somewhat dramatic flair. Other than that, it did quite little to affect the inspector save for running a bandaged finger and thumb across his Enfield cap, as if to tip his hat at his opponent. The wind might have blown it off. It just might have, maybe even if he hadn't touched it. Dubious, that. Dooby dooby doob...doobies? eek Now if it was lightning, circumstances would have differed. A moment after the-- --THUNDER CANNON!!!--was fired, both of the spring-launched canisters reached their intended destinations, giving what turned out to be incendiary grenades a little extra snap and twist before detonating upon impact from behind and on the left side of the opponent's body. Insult to injury. The napalm would not stop burning hotter and hotter for another ten minutes, and already it would render paralysis upon a surrendering nervous system, to say nothing of an skeleton partially exposed and eventually charred. In hindsight, slight armor was a bit of a blessing for the opponent. The phosphorus incendiary agent, possessed of a heat twice as intense as the napalm, would warp his blades to dulled museum pieces and do the same to any other metal on his person. To say nothing of his organic parts. From the inspector's point of view, he saw only what might be a localized volcano eruption, wrathful clouds of black and orange punctuated by swaths of white-hot chemicals, so thick they were opaque. His actions for the moment involved returning his right hand to the tip of a holster on his web belt and a singular flick of his left wrist... *a portal appears in front of the thunder cannon and then six portal appear around you and one over you, the thunder cannon gose in the one in front of it and the portal close* now which portal will the thunder cannon lol oh the napalm has no effect on me cause my body is Heat and Fire Resistance and I can Control Fire so fire only makes me stronger
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Posted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 8:20 pm
___"Oh noes," someone from the stands blurts out, "I am impervious to fire and death! Lawlerskates!" others in the crowd get a bit annoyed with this woman's shouting, but they've gotten used to it and silently agree.
___"Oh ********, I don't know how to write properly, so I use an asterisk to show action! ******** yes! Rofflecaust!"
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Posted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 10:26 pm
XIII The Key Of Destiny hector_dracul its sad that you people dont know what soulless_spider is. his rp guys are very good look at his Journal if you dont trust me The idea of the characters may be good, but if his RP skills suck a**, that means nothing, it's not how powerful your character is, it's how you use them, a missile launcher in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it is useless, a pistol in the hand of someone who knows what they're doing, useful, in this case, spider is the guy with the missile launcher, he may have a powered up character, but he doesn't know how to use him, see what I'm saying? I know soulless_spider in real life and he likes to joke around with people before geting to know them better (grim shut up or die by my blades)
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Posted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 4:01 am
A single man in the stands shook his head, neither the fight or the conversations in the stands being a damned bit of fun. To solve this he caused a shower of light to rain from the sky, aimed at each person's head that wasn't in combat down below. Blocking it with a barrier would be difficult if it were not of mundane origins, as the attack is composed of light, thus rendering anything that doesn't block light entirely...well...useless. Mindblaze hoped there could at least be something interesting during this time slot. A slaughter of an idiot never was much fun.
((*gives the finger to everyone not Pei or Grim. Why? Cause they either deserve it, or he wants to provoke them.*))
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Posted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 11:57 pm
*traped in the portal, you fall to your knees and lose hope, take out a grenad and set it off to escape yor fate, but lol oh now its too late the thunder cannon shocks you to death also the napalm ricochets thruogh the portal all over your body* haha ha its useless i am the victor--
Even the child could dream.
One fragment among the imaginary friends of soulless_spider, known as demi_devil, manages to remain standing despite complete immolation, due to the fact that it is an illusion. An illusion of a charred jerry-rig of bones and unrecognizable remnants of flesh, now. But it refused to step down. Not now, not upon the veritable cusp of winning the match. It used what little remaining power it had to bring its tarnished daydream back to a semblance of believable alignment with reality, but it was still unable to distinguish between what was going on in the arena and what was going on in its 'mind.'
It was so insistent on maintaining its delusion of being of any more consequence than a hallucinatory compatriot, it never even realized Number 66 had snapped his right hand out to bring his revolver lined up on its head, and it never felt the fullisade of magnum bullets that turned its brain, a little piece of soulless_spider's primitive subconscious, into so much useless gray matter sizzling upon smouldering glass fragments from burned arena sand.
66 dropped his hands to his sides, the revolver dangling off its chain. His right had held down the trigger, his left had fanned back the hammer repeatedly until it slammed down on an empty chamber. All in the matter of a moment. It took somewhat longer for the smoke and excess flame from earlier to clear.
Silence among the lambs in the arena stands, as the inspector carefully stepped slowly across the arena, unlatched the wheel, and dumped the spent brass over the body of his late opponent, still aflame. It did not disappear, despite being an expired illusion. But then, stupidity knows no bounds in permeating its existence.
That would come in time. The other soulless fragments in the tournament would be taken care of.
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