A lizard and a Madman walked into an Arena
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- Aphyonik 25 minutes ago
- A soft wind breezed through the Colosseum; a certain exiled monk looked up from his meditative position atop one of the tiered spires, the red glow in the eye sockets of his skeletal mask gleaming. His blood was boiling, his muscles aching for use; so the monk rose in one fluid motion and leaped, over the structures and stands beneath to land lightly in the ring. He stood up straight, the grim gaze of the Deathbringer's mask cast slowly about the stands, to see who might answer his silent, open challenge.
- Murder Expert 20 minutes ago
- :And He'd hope down into the arena. The 6ft madman had been looking to shoot someone for several days now. Maybe after this, he'd finally finish the new weapon he had, but for now, The Reverend will do.: '' Oy, fucker. You in the mask. You wanna go? I'll give you a go! '' His right hand grasped the handle of the gun, that tingle of violence, promised death bringing. It set his heart all a flutter.:
- Aphyonik 3 minutes ago
- The Iksar's powerful tail gave a curious flick as the red-haired man entered the arena opposite him; nostrils flared beneath the metal-and-bone face of his mask, taking in his scent. The usual human smells...and something else. Black powder, or something like it--Aphyonik had dealt with cannons and arquebuses before, and various other mechanical gnomish weapons and explosives. He fights at range, with high-speed projectiles, he concluded silently to himself, as he lowered into his fighting stance. Left side facing Abram, knees bent and slightly spread, the fingers of his left hand stretched out and pressed together, claws pointing towards the ground. His right arm was up and cocked back, meanwhile, fingers spread and curled to emphasize the natural weapons at their tips, and his tail curled back and up at a similar angle to his arm. "Come, then--let us see if your lead, iron, and reeking manflesh can match a Master of the Steel Shackle," the Iksar rasped in response as he settled into position, inviting the redhead to move first.
- Murder Expert 16 seconds ago
- :The creature began to get into some sort of fighting stance. There was probably a distance of 10ft(Unless you have a problem with it.) Between his foe. Abram's right hand unholstered The Reverend, but didn't raise it just yet, it was aimed down, not directly down though. Almost the same as a swordsman, with a lowered sword stance, to swing up, and deflect an on coming attack. The creature stunk. Abram's nostrils flared. The creature was talking too. Abram's left hand dug its nails, into the palms of its skin, '' Giving me first move? What a sweety you are! '' Now there was something to be said about Abram. He did look like a human, but he was not. His tribe had long, long ago separated from the main branch long ago, The Jungle Queen and Baphomet had carved out a space for these monsters, sadly that place had fallen, and now that tribe Abram was apart of, it was scattered to the wind. So! If the lizard thought this was a if it looks like a duck, it must quack like a duck scenario, this was going to be a quick death for the lizard. Blood from his left hand began to pool up in the palm of his left hand. While, Abram's right arm(Gun arm) rose up, paranaturally fast. Aim was going for the center of the creatures mass. There was another thing the creature should know, or perhaps didn't notice. These this gun didn't smell of gunpowder, and lead. It smelt of arcana, or perhaps the opposite of. As soon as The Reverend was at the creatures center of mass, the trigger was squeezed, causing the primary barrel to expel a not so simple forty five caliber shell, and if it impacted, well, body armor wouldn't stop the bullet, and magic barriers might stop one, but when the shell erupted, it would pull some of that magic out of existence at the end of the explosion. The dance began.:
- Aphyonik 25 seconds ago
- There was certainly a mistake made on Aphyonik's part, one that he didn't quite recognize until that gun was unholstered. Magic. The weapon was much more like the inventions of the Gnomes of Aphyonik's home world than the Iksar had originally believed; for like many Gnomish inventions, there was an unmistakable scent of magic around the man's weapon. His chi surged through his body in the same instant that Abram pulled the trigger, and the monk's perceptions increased along with his speed, allowing him to see that bullet flying towards him where most would see only a blur of motion, if that. With only the side of his center-mass facing the man, the monk had ample room to dodge, and so he did, a short, subsonic step backwards, moving him out of the bullet's way, just so that it came within a hair's breadth of making contact with his enchanted armor. The projectile was no longer the monk's concern; the moment it slid past his form, the monk moved to counter, lunging fast to close the gap between them, his left hand thrusting swiftly upward towards Abram's right arm, with added force to redirect the aim of the Reverend to prevent a second shot from finding its mark, even as that right knee came crashing in, aimed to deliver a blow to Abram's midsection with enough force to wind him, while keeping himself close, so that whatever magic that empowered Abram's weapon might harm him, too, if discharged.
- Murder Expert 10 seconds ago
- : The first shot was skirted around, Abram almost felt as though he could have grazed the foe, being as large as the lizard was, it was agile. It was also fast enough to dodge a bullet within 10ft of being fired. Abram took note of this as well. The speed the creature was able to produce wasn't surprising, not after Abram watched it dodge the bullet. But the creature was not fast enough to close the distance between them, and stop Abram from shooting. Abram made a point to keep a bead on the creature, and keep the barrel(s) pointed at it. You could almost say, Abram had used one of the bullets (9 total, 8 left). So, Abram kept with his philosophy, the best defense is to keep attacking. While the creature was speeding up, to reach a hand to hand range, the secondary barrel exploded into action. Harsh, bright light escaped the barrel, the very projectile of the secondary barrel was composed of substances that ate away at magic, and anything else that it impacted against. All while the foe came to smash Abram in the chest, to try and take the wind from his lungs. Typically it was used to hunt down creatures far larger than this lizard, but if it wanted to get that close to the gunman, it was going to have to risk everything. At this range, assuming impact happened, Abram would be caught in the blast as well. It would be hard to escape a 10x10ft spherical field of devastation like that, but Abram was a madman, and willing to trade blows. Could the creature say the same? Could it stop its commitment to close in and strike? Abram was ready to find out.:
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