|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 8:06 pm
 VS.
 Located in an open-roof stadium is the ring where the first round fights will be taking place. The sound of wild cheering from the many fans that have congregated here fill the arena in a loud uproar as cameras zoom in on the action to broadcast the fights all over the world. The floor of the arena is a glossy hard floor with the logo of GTB painted in purple and pink upon the white sheen. Field Measurements: The fighting area is a perfect circle with a 50 yard diameter. The walls that keep the fighters away from the spectators are raised up to ten feet. Ten Count Boundary: The ten count begins whenever the fighter is knocked out of the bounds of the fighting area, such as into the spectator seats. The flying count out is also in effect, which means, if you stay above ground by your own will for more than ten seconds, you will be DQ'd. Fight Ends: After 11:59 PM on Jun 16th. That means when it becomes Jun 17th, fights are over.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 10:05 am
Edward makes his way onto the exaggeratedly large ring, waving to and fro at cheering fans. He was pretty sure none of them were specifically here for him, but something told him they weren't here for the other guy. A complete nobody as far as Ed was concerned. Probably not much a fighter either. Then again, The Punk King of Archer Avenue had been surprised before. Anyways, after flicking off a camera or two, he made his way closer to the center of the ring. Must a guy actually run half a football field to hit someone. Midus was a ******** douchebag. Either that, or he liked to see the competitors squirm.
The cyberpunk was casually sipping out of a can of Sunkist through a Mickey Mouse loopty-loop straw. The kind that literally had a Mickey Mouse figurine hanging off the thing. It was pretty badass. He was wearing his tournament attire: black Dickies, a yellow t-shirt with a black Batman logo, white/black sneakers, and a black hoodie which bore a white skull on the back. Edward also had his weapons. A machete sheathed on his back, a crowbar in a ramshackle holster on his right thigh, and his Bowie knife hidden in a sheath at the back of his waistband.
The cyborg was as ready as he could possibly be, and had his newly transplanted Hunter's Organ already generating some juicy s**t. He'd wait for the b*****d.
Sip, sip, sip.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 5:55 pm
Enrique was a little late in his arrival, having apparently had a wild time at last night’s Opening Ball. The last thing he remembered was convincing Telemarkitus(sp) to throw a table at Omi Barsait and after that everything went black.
At first he thought Omi might have run a train on all of them; but the next morning he had a pair of brand new ear-piercings, a bad haircut, and a slight headache. He had yet to check for any tattoo’s but it was safe to assume the only thing to knock him out last night was alcohol, and maybe a roofie or two.
One haircut later and a change of clothes and the Prince of Scorpions was stalking through the dark corridors towards his first round match up. He was looking good, as usual, wearing a pair of business casual orange slacks and a matching button up shirt(pinstripe of course). His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow revealing his forearms and tightly clenched fists, to show just how prepared he was. So serious he was that he had even forgotten to button up the styling black vest that completed his ensemble!!!
Things were serious, and business was good.
Over his head lay the traditional Satori ‘crown’, if you will, the massive black effigy of Anubis that his father had worn at all times and in all places. Now it kept his head warm, his handsome face safe from the elements, with its daunting soulless gaze piercing through any who dared to meet its gaze. Together they stared forward, the warm light at the end of the tunnel growing steadily larger by the moment, the massive arena waiting them becoming all the more obvious and the lukewarm reception of a disinterested audience muttering amongst themselves filling the air…
Wait what?
Waiting for Enrique at the end of the tunnel was not the promised land he had been waiting for. But instead it was Edward Queensborough. He knew this only because the jumbotron off to the North said that was his name, otherwise one hipster looked exactly the same as the next. The various list of accomplishments that flashed by could aptly be summed up in Enrique’s mind as “he did some stuff, somewhere at some time.”
The guy didn’t even seem to be all that interested in fighting.
Why wasn’t he fighting Deitric Jocasta? Didn’t Midus know a show-stealer waiting to happen when he saw on? Was the reward of saving the best fight for last worth the risk of having it never happen at all?
Or maybe he could have fought Omi Barsait? Surely Deitric’s rival would be a worthy warm up round for him.
What about that Roen McJagger guy? He was pretty popular a*****e around these parts right? Twenty people trying to kill him couldn’t possibly be wrong.
So we came to the root of the problem. Edward was probably a pretty tough guy, anyone who dressed like that much of a hipster had to be, and maybe a nice guy too. But(much to his eternal shame) ‘nice guys’ weren’t the impact he wanted to make. Enrique didn’t even bother approaching his opponent, instead scanning the bored audience for someone with a little more reputation to call out, anyone would do.
The only person he found was Tellermanalicious waving frantically at him from the fifth row.
Siiigh…
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 9:20 am
-Uno-
If Enrique was looking for someone with a bigger reputation than Edward, then the guy would simply find himself scanning the stands for a non-existent cool guy before stopping to rest on the cyberpunk again. Two second place titles, after only three tournaments and a sudden (out of nowhere) appearance into the fight scene. That kind of stuff made you important. Kind of. The punk drank the rest of his Sunkist, putting the can and straw combination on the floor, and proceeded to walk in his opponents direction.
It was a fast walk but a walk nonetheless. It would take some time to reach his opponent in a ring like this. Ed took his time, retrieving a pair of goggles from his pocket and adjusting them over his eyes. Activating his Hunter's Organ, the cyborg zipped up his hoodie and charged Enrique. It started off as a full blown run; the hydraulics inherent in his prosthetics sending him off at inhuman speeds.
Covering the majority of the ground between them, Ed slowed down to a jog, approaching his opponent at a steady pace. He brandished his fists in an orthodox stance, left in front of the right, and entered striking range. Instantly, his left fist lashed out towards Enrique's face. No turning of the hips, no cocking of the shoulder. The arm simply straightened at the elbow in a thrust-motion, aiming to strike his opponent's nose with a fist turned sideways in a Wing Chun-esque fashion. A jab, basically. But definitely not an ordinary one, a jab was usually described as weaker than other punches, but no punch was weak when thrown by cybernetic prosthesis.
The attack also helped with keeping Enrique at a safe distance. The cyborg's seventy-three inches of reach would keep his opponent at around three feet away. But none of that mattered; all Edward wanted was to knock off that silly ******** hat.
All in due time, boss, all in due time.
Hunter's Organ: 1
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 11:49 pm
If Enrique’s ears weren’t made of ceramic and plastic one could almost swear his ears had perked up. No it wasn’t Edward with ants in his pants catching his attention, nor’ was It Telladouchius’ forgetting he had a fight, his gaze was higher. In the nosebleed section amidst the thousands of mildly enthused fans stood his greatest rival, diligently watching the tournament play out with the same aloof sense of disinterest that he always showed. Fantasy was one thing, but this was reality, and Enrique felt a small pang of appreciation as he realized that his foe was indeed recognizing him as a viable rival. *** Meanwhile the long haired fan who looked kind-of native american(vaguely), from a distance) wondered why Enrique was staring blankly at the crowd. Shrugging it off he drew his families attention towards Edward’s full sprint. “That’s what they call a rape face,” he informed the eager young boy next to him. *** Enrique recoiled visibly; his friendly foe in the stands was trying to tell him something, pointing excitedly behind his back. Even though they had never shared words the Prince of Scorpions knew what he was trying to say, one glance back at Edward(still sprinting, and about halfway there) and he could tell this man was the reputable champion he was looking for. Truly a worthy first round match-up for the son of an emperor. Chuckling, embarrassed by his own short-sightedness, he turned briefly towards the stands once more, offering his rival a friendly nod of acknowledgement before turning around to face his foe… *** “Isn’t he funny?” the father commented off-handedly. “I think he’s retarded.” The son spat vengefully. “…” “Like, literally. They shouldn’t let people this stupid enter tournaments, does he even know he’s fighting?” *** An Aside About Headwear Before things could go any further between the two something needed to be cleared up. There appeared to be a bit of a misunderstanding going on between the two of them about the nature of his head-wear. The Head of Anubis was not a hat and it technically didn’t rest ‘on’ his head so much as it presided ‘over’ it. Like a Halloween mask it fit over the entire head, and as a consequence of that it hid Enrique’s ‘face’ from view. Naturally it wasn’t all that hard to pinpoint exactly where he was hiding beneath it, but between the snout of the jackal and Enrique’s very human face there was a nice space reserved for breathing room.(since Edward was trying to punch it all) The mask was sturdy too; the exact material of its make was a mystery reserved only for those who forged it, but in terms of strength it was similar enough to iron to be one in the same. In a way it was an ‘iron mask’ of sorts with the man ‘inside’. Making Enrique a man in an iron mask so to speak(but not the man). Being made for decoration it wasn’t the most practical piece of head-based armor, but when it was the only thing between you and a heavy object to the skull you’d be glad you were wearing it rather than nothing at all. It was a ‘crown’ in the sense that wearing it was a symbol of status. His father Virgil Satori had worn it at all times, and even as his son Enrique had never seen his father’s true-face more than a handful of times, and always from a distance. How he ate, drank, and slept with it over his head was another mystery… Despite all that Enrique wasn’t planning on wearing it in a fight. All things considered the ‘helmet’ was large, bulk, and cut off a lot of his peripheral vision(which was a bad thing). There were enchantments to cover up every weakness the head possessed but they were dormant for the time being, and they would remain so. He wasn’t entirely sure was Gaia’s policy on living hats was, but he was pretty sure the staff wouldn’t appreciate it when the thing came to life howling curses in gibberish that everyone pretended was a forgotten language. It was a good bit of circumstance than, that this was not the real thing. Enrique turned around just in time for Edward Queensborough to close the last bit of distance, his arms up and poised around his face in the traditional guard that Gaian’s seemed to love so much. He looked cute with his serious face on, almost like he was ready to fight or something. He’d even thrown a wang-chung jab right for Enrique’s face. As a great man one said: “Tch,” The Prince of Scorpions took the invitation, stepping forward to meet the cyborg hipster at the very last moment. His arm would be straightening itself for a jab, aiming to swat his big doggy nose, when Enrique’s left arm(that being Edward’s left, not his) swung out, striking his arm in mid-extend and guiding it out to the side with a smooth circular motion. At the same time Enrique launched a strike of his own. The jolly dog headed idiot was tall and had a very lean build with long lanky muscles, and probably an inch or two taller than Edward unless the cyborg was bordering on huge gai levels. What did this mean? Well unless Edward had long orangutan arms that draped down below his knees then Enrique probably had a longer reach than he did. His right arm(Edward’s right again) thrust itself down, rocking forward on one feet to commit a bit of force into the blow while his fist twisted into the impact. The fist wasn’t going to pop Edward in the face, after all you couldn’t hit a guy while he still had his glasses on, and instead the attack would make a gentle arch down to his chest. The blow would pass his guard and hit him square in the center of the chest. Actually probably a little lower, closer to the solar plexus but not quite there. In a perfect world the quick attack would catch Edward off guard, since he didn’t think Enrique was capable of fighting and all that, and hit him without trouble. It would likely knock some wind out of him, rattle his rib cage, and shove him back. His opponent may have been a cyborg but he was hardly the only one in the fight with a strength betrayed by his size. A thick bone structure, hard skin, and stronger than a man below two-thirty pounds should have been. If the blow hit it would do damage, silly robotic augmentations or not. Still in the perfect world, once that blow would hit if Edward was sufficiently off guard Enrique would back on his feet. Leaning his body back to snap a sharp thai kick to the outside of Queensborough’s leg, hitting the sweet spot right above his knee that would force robo-boy to buckle. Possibly even bring him down to his knees, if Christmas was coming early this year. From there Enrique would be free to do all sorts of nasty things to Edward. But after making several relatively safe moves he decided to pick the most idiotic choice possible. If Edward was indeed all shook up then Enrique would fight the man’s arms away from his face(as they'd undoubtedly be ready to defend once more) and thrust his big jackal shaped head down for the man’s skull. The ceramic mask would shatter instantly, revealing itself to be nothing more than a cheap knock-off, and that would leave only Enrique’s very real and thick forehead flying out for Edward’s face. The meeting of the minds would be as painful for him as it was for the cyborg, and the little shards of ceramic would no doubt cut apart both their faces when they kissed and made up like all good couples should. But that was unlikely to happen… More likely Edward would block and press the attack turning this into a typical bout of fisticuffs, but se la ve. What will be will be. “Sorry about this Edward Cullen, I have a date with some badass who exploded onto the fighting scene not too long ago.” Okay well, maybe one person this fight was still confused. [Enrique was supposed to take off the helmet but Edward came after him too fast. It isn't in his profile, so I decided to make it ceramic. That way it isn't really dangerous and it's not much different from him coming to the ring wearing a big ceramic pot on his head.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 9:16 am
((Chill with the speedhacking, Brosetta Stone. I don't need you doing all the moves that you can think of in one post.
For reference, my caharcter is 6 feet tall and has a 73-inch reach with his arms.))
- Dos -
Ed had always been described as quick on the draw, especially in mid-range combat where punches and kicks were thrown swiftly. Outside of shooting someone in the knee with a .380, Edward excelled at this range and that's what he was trying to achieve when he threw that first jab. Keeping Enrique at around three feet of distance, a place where not only fists and grabs would be flying.
Sure, it would have been nice to jab the s**t out of his opponent's nose, but in truth that attack wasn't supposed to hit. It was partially to get the fight started, but primarily as bait. A piece of bait Enrique tried to swallow whole, unbeknowest of the hook that laid underneath. The punk's cybernetic arm was deflected off to the side via Daniel-San wax off maneuver, no matter, because as his opponent came in with a swift counter. So did The Punk King of Archer Avenue.
His back leg (the right) was lifted and promptly sent on a collision course with the center of Enrique's abdomen in a vicious push kick. Enrique probably had longer reach, but that was only true in the domain of punch against punch. His arm (unless Enrique had long orangutan arms that draped down below his knees) was significatly shorter than Ed's right leg. It was that simple. With Enrique literally stepping into Ed's attacking heel while attacking himself; guess which attack would arrive first?
If the powerful kick landed, planting his cybernetic foot and size 13 sneakers on the Prince's abdomen, then his opponent would likely lose all the oxygen in his lungs. But it wouldn't stop there, the cyborg's metal leg plus hydraulics would also (probably) knock Enrique backwards and into the air for a couple of feet. It would be painful, not a fight ender unless his opponent was a b***h, but he'd feel that in his organs for the next few days.
Ed's getting to hit royalty. Awesome.
Hunter's Organ: 2
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:55 pm
What a twist!
Well, okay… sort of a twist.
Enrique, along with everyone else on the planet, had suspected all along that Edward was plotting something with that little love-tap of his. In all of the Multiverse there had never been a jab thrown that wasn’t a piece of bait for something bigger and badder... But the Prince of Scorpions would have been a p***y if he didn’t see his opponent’s hand and raise it, especially with the crowd finally starting to stir. The people needed bones to break and the quicker it happened the better!
That said Enrique didn’t expect a thrust kick. A hook of some kind, sure, maybe being stabbed in the gut with one of the nasty toys Edward kept in his pants. Probably because he had been thinking of kicking himself and it had never crossed his mind that they might be similar enough to think of the same attack…
Oh and he didn’t want his leg grabbed. Mostly because he didn’t want his leg grabbed actually. Which was exactly what was happening to Edward as of five seconds ago.
As far as the kick went it could have been worse, for both parties. Enrique had suspected the trap all along, keeping his left arm(Edward’s left) poised for defense after parting the waters and keeping his eyes open for any funny business that might come. His foot stomped down, bringing him a little closer to Edward as his hips began to twist for the thrusting punch and thats when he saw it…
Edwards leg coming up with its knee cocked back like a gun ready to fire. He followed the pivot all the way through this time, sliding his foot back so as to make his body as parallel to the incoming leg. Things could have been worse as the sneakers slammed into gut on one side and then slid off into oblivion, Enrique released all the air in his lungs and clenched his muscles, absorbing what impact he could and grunting just enough so that Ed could hear.
And with all the same practical day-to-day techniques that Mister Miyagi had taught him in order to fight off the Cobra Kai his left arm(Edward’s left) completeled its circle and pinned Edward’s robotic leg to his side. With a hand firmly clasped around the calf he gave the man a sharp tug, his body continuing with the pivot and attack it had started mere seconds ago. Instead of a punch though, his elbow shot point first into the cap of Edward’s knee. Their bones were both hard for different reasons, and the attack would probably leave both parties with a nasty bruise on the next day, but silently Enrique figured he’d be showing up on top when the cyber punk prince would have a painful reminder every time he tried to walk. ‘Rique didn’t have to use his elbow to walk after all…
By this time Edward was sure to be planning something dastardly and unless Enrique had snapped his leg in two with a lucky strike it was likely that the pain was just going to make the punk cyborg angrier. Not wanting to give him any time to recover Enrique grabbed his foot with both hands and quickly swung it into the air and then shoved it back against his leg. Ed’s balance probably not being the greatest thing as is, the shove would probably end with him spralwed on his a**.
But he didn’t intend to let go, no sir. If Edward did hit the ground Enrique would keep a hold of his ankle and...
It all seemed to be taking place in slow motion but the whole exchange couldn’t have lasted more than seconds, at the most.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 11:01 am
- Tres -<********, ********, ********, ******** again, Ed thought as his prosthetic only clipped Enrique and was subsequently captured. It happened often enough, it was a viable tactic after all. Someone kicks and the respectable Gaian says, 'No, I must grab your leg and annoy the s**t out of you.' Luckily, for the Punk, he was used to working off one leg in all sorts of impromptu Yoga positions. Bad a** Balance stuff "After years and years of playing ice hockey; along with the Yoga practices of recent days, Edward has found himself with near-perfect balance. He’s quite stable even in the most awkward of positions." The "loss" of a leg and the sharp tug on behalf of Enrique yeilded very little as far as balance went; the cyborg stood tall and quite dandy on a single sneakered foot. Almost as if standing around all awkward was second nature, and considering Ed was a Yogie then it sounded about right. With Enrique's hand clasping a handful of synth-skin and elbowing his knee, the cyberpunk responded in the usual way simultaneously. He sent a flurry of punches in varying directions/targets at his opponent's face, which spelled trouble for Enrique with both of his arms occupied with Edward's prothetic leg. One after the other, left cybernetic arm striking with power more akin to a hammer strike than a fist, and his right being significantly less powerful though still strong in a human sense. It would be abrupt and painful if the punches struck. If Enrique still had his ceramic mask on, then they would easily break under the power of the cyberpunk's strikes and the broken pieces would also cut skin. If not, then he still had a lot of punches to deal with. The Prince had felled when he attacked Edward's knee. Enrique's logic would have made sense if the punk had any bones in that particular area. He didn't. His leg from the knee down was a prosthetic. A fake. No nerves. No pain. Ed would continue to punch without a care even after the attempted knee-breaking/bruising he'd feel for the next few days while walking. It just wouldn't swing that way. Of course, that was all just wishful thinking, the cyborg only counted on the first few hits to land, and he wouldn't be surprised if Enrique completely dodged the entire thing whilst preoccupied. It was Gaia Primus, after all. If his opponent would still manage to do so, Ed would easily find himself on his a** after the shove. Though, whether the cyborg meant for that to happen or not wasn't shown on his face. It still looked like, 'Rawr!' But that's only if Enrique managed after Ed's near-instant reaction to the leg grab. Hunter's Organ: 3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 5:23 pm
‘Craaack!!!’
Enrique absolutely loved that noise, the sound of bone on bone(or steel on steel) contact sending a wave of discomfort through both men. Who knows what kind of damage Edward could be looking forward too; a bruise for sure, pinched and numbed nerves, cracks running through the bone, or even worse.
Except that wasn’t what was happening at all. Not even a second after Enrique felt his elbow slam into the man’s knee he would spot something out of the corner of his eye, the cyber punk’s big prosthetic enhanced fist flying out for the side of his head. Without time to recoil Enrique was left to the mercy of Edward’s punch, first it shattered through the porcelain effigy of Anubis and drove right into his forehead(just above his eye).
The head of Anubis crumbled around the fist, leaving a big gaping hole to show where the entry point had been and a fine layer of dust lingering in the air. Beneath it Enrique reeled, his head was thick, quite literally, but being rocked by a robo-fist hurt no matter who you were and he would have a nasty headache after the fight.
Relatively unnoticed beneath the throbbing of his head was the numerous cuts that the porcelain left in its wake. If Edward was wearing some gloves he’d probably be spared anything more than superficial cuts, and he’d know exactly what kind of defense Enrique’s skin provided. If his bones were hard like metal then his skin was rough, not quite leathery, but thick enough to fight off the majority of the shrapnel. Still a few pieces had dug themselves deep enough to open lacerations, only a few small ones not worth mentioning, save for the noticeable cut that had opened up right on ground zero. It took a few seconds but as adrenaline started to pound through his body fresh black blood began to crawl out of the wound.
Success was Edwards, but it was a fleeting thing.
Enrique had stepped outside of Edward’s body, requiring the cyborg to punch over his leg just to reach Enrique’s head and at this close distance that was a long way to travel. Several more punches(perhaps two, maybe a third) made their way home, striking him in the head during the time he chose to recoil. Having great balance was a good thing but punching over ones own leg while standing on one foot probably wasn't going to afford a whole lot of damage. Already the Prince of Scorpions had stepped back, rolling his shoulder up to deflect the next blow. His flesh winced as it skid off, but it was a mere pittance to getting hammered in the skull. The final punch struck against his upper arm, barely registering before Enrique threw it to the side.
Of Edward’s foot, he was right and he was wrong. The Prince of Scorpions wasn’t a Gaian, but the good people of Satori were just as meta-human as the rest of the Multiverse, perhaps even more so. That kind of hammering wasn’t going to make him let go, if anything his grip tightened around the captured limb in fear that the punk would free himself and make Enrique taking a kick to the gut completely pointless.
No Edward was not free and he would end up with on his a** with ‘Rique gripping his ankle like a vice and holding it up in the air before him. Edward would have to put effort into sitting up to keep from rolling over onto his back, but more likely than not it was worth it, bad things happened when people hit their back with someone on top of them. But with his foot around Enrique’s abdomen level(or higher) it left his underside rather exposed and undefended.
The Prince of Scorpions didn’t even have to step forward, lashing out for the space underneath Edward’s crotch with the tip of his shoes and going to pummel the underside of his robotic-sack. If Edward had a fake leg it was always possible that he had a fake p***s, but something told Enrique that Eddy was the kind who enjoyed the ladies, and that meant he’d need some kind of sensitivity down there.
It wasn’t a full on stomp, no, that was too merciful. This was one of this swift strikes to the sack, the one that left the man with a split second to realize what had just happened to him. Then the pain would hit, and nobody was ever prepared, like needles being jammed into the testicles it would be crippling and hopefully for Edward it would be too.
Cups could always do something to defend him, but not much. Eddy was a cyborg swinging around his big beefy cyborg arms and Enrique was a fiend with a magically hardened body who could take those blows. A cup, much like his porcelain mask, was just another barrier waiting to be crashed.
As this happened Enrique would be releasing Edward’s ankle with one hand(not entirely, no) and throwing his hand out, fingers splayed, and palm pointed towards Eddy. Now that his face was partially exposed inside of Anubis an observant eye could catch sigh of his handsome young face, shoulder length blonde hair in its wavy glory, and his dark chocolate skin turning a steady shade of red the longer the fight built up.
What did you really think he was just a brawler? A miniature inferno sprang to life along his forearm, nipping wildly at his golden arm-hairs and wrapping its warmth around his hand in a matter of moments. For what it was worth, his clothes were flame retardant. Not as a form of defense, Enrique was confident that any fire that could burn him would leave his clothes in ashes, but as a form of practicality. He paid a lot to look good so he didn’t want his clothes going up in flames every time he used his powers.
Hopefully Edward would have the same defense. Rushing, so as not to leave the cyborg any opening for retaliation, Enrique transitioned the raging inferno around his forearm into a torrent of flames pouring down over his opponent. It wasn’t concentrated, so god bless the little things, but it would pour over Edward’s entire upper body like water (unless he chose to defend). His clothes would set on fire, the exposed skin on his arms, his face; all of it would be facing his burning courage.
There was a little something extra behind this blast, a good deal of anger pushing him against his limits. Edward had already hit him more than once and now the Prince of Scorpions was bleeding, the only time he had struck Edward the cyber punk hadn’t felt a bit of it. With a fresh gob of black blood welling up at his mouth he slipped a bit of himself into the attack, damaging his own flesh in order to step the dial on his fire from burning to 'holy s**t'.
He wished he could say it wasn’t done with malice, but it was. The kick to the crotch had been an entirely neutral thing, designed more to keep Edward focused on pain than responding, but the fire. He wanted to set Edward up like a bonfire…
And when the fires stopped, lest we all forget. Enrique was still standing tall, and was still holding Edward by the leg.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 5:29 pm
 And Enrique earns the crowds ire! Their jeers are heard miles away! "BOOOOOOOO!!!!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 6:18 pm
Was asked to check on the interpretation of an attack. It started here. The Hypocritical Hero Enrique had stepped outside of Edward’s body, requiring the cyborg to punch over his leg just to reach Enrique’s head and at this close distance that was a long way to travel. Already the Prince of Scorpions had stepped back, rolling his shoulder up to deflect the second blow. His flesh winced as the second blow skid off, but it was a mere pittance to getting hammered right in the skull. The third and final punch struck against his upper arm, barely registering before Enrique threw it to the side. Which was a reply to: Just Naota He sent a flurry of punches in varying directions/targets at his opponent's face, Hero, your character won't be able to dodge the first second of those flurry of fists. He may see them coming, but he won't be able to react in time to get away from them immediately. In Wushu, they use this tactic because, although wild, it works, and allows for rapid speed. Three to five of those punches can be thrown within a second depending on how skilled the fighter is. So, edit your post and continue accordingly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:06 pm
[I'm sure people in Wushu also tend to do this rapid-fire punching while standing on both feet, and not over their own leg.
Nor' do I see why two or three punches is an issue worth bringing up, when typical fighters can take much more to the head and keep going.
Done anyways, unless what you're really asking me to do is to rewrite my post so that Naota isn't lit on fire.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:26 pm
((I already mentioned that my char has uncanny balance as a skill in his profile. OK'd by the judges upon me entering the tourney.
It's not just two or three punches. That's the way you spun the post. We're talking about three to five punches straight to the head which simultaneously can cause all sorts of damage and prevent your character from continuing his hold.
And not really. They're asking you to stop spinning other people's posts to what's convenient to you. That and to stop speedhacking every other ******** post.
Don't bother replying. I'm replying to your edit now, even though all you did was add a punch or two and just shrugged them off.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:41 pm
[No, I feel like this does need a response. You've presented your case, rudely, more than once. Now its my turn. Quote: I won't complain about stupid s**t like my opponent not understanding the difference between flesh and blood and prosthesis, Are you talking about the first part of my post? Because if so my character doesn't know you're a cyborg... *You can take an elbow to the knee without blinking, he just thinks you have a tough knee. *You can kick really hard, he just assumes you're a meta-human like he is. His thoughts are on elbowing a human knee, not a cyborg knee. If I ever do reference you as a cyborg it's for your sake. So that you know I'm not just assuming I'm punching a squishy human. Besides, if I am missing something so incredibly important that it would turn the tide of this fight in your favor, please explain it to me. Just saying "it's a prosthetic" isn't going to help anything. Quote: or his need to post speedhacks/borderline speedhacks. Then again, I think I just did. You've used this term a lot and I can only assume its for your sake. I have no idea what this means... *If you're talking about my tendency to stack up a lot of attacks. Thats because I've read fights on Gaia and I know everyone loves to have instant counters to everything, and I'm saving both of us the trouble of writing a counter just to have it thrown away later on. *If you're talking about my tendency to describe my character as moving fast. That is again because I've read fights on Gaia and I know how everyone loves to have instant counters ready before the person can so much as blink. I'm simply presenting my case that yes, my character is in fact moving quickly and thinking on his feet... not waiting for you to beat the s**t out of him. Quote: Don't bother replying. I'm replying to your edit now, even though all you did was add a punch or two You even said in your first post you only counted on the first few hits landing. Three solid hits and two half-assedly blocked ones is the "first few" to me. You want two dozen hits, thats a lot more. I didn't write them in full detail because I don't feel like writing a whole section of my post just for you. And he's a meta-human with supernatural durability and a thick bone structure to absorb extra damage. Three hits will not stop him. Quote: It's not just two or three punches. That's the way you spun the post. We're talking about three to five punches straight to the head which simultaneously can cause all sorts of damage and prevent your character from continuing his hold. That aside I've been hit twice, and countered twice. You've been hit once, shrugged it off, and had an instant counter prepared for every action I did. And yet you're asking me to give you even more weight behind all your actions. How about next post I just slit my throat and die while you watch? Or would I be auto-hitting? Aren't we supposed to solve disputes through PM like adults? I've seen people try to kill each other with bullshit for three pages and the judges ust tell them to "deal with it". Or am I the exception because I'm not Gaian?]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:45 pm
((Hey now, let's ease the OOC. I made the ruling that I did because it was a logical attack, and shrugging off the first several hits of it wouldn't be realistic. It's sort of micromanaging, but it is a crucial thing, though what happens is entirely up to you at this point.
Now no more ooc guys.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
