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14 days ago
Taking on all modern and medieval human/peak human ranked fights!


Call me Doc! I'm open to just about every form of roleplay at any time, so if you want to have some fun just toss a P.M my way.

Arena Characters:

Arena Stats

4 Wins / 0 Losses / 1 Draws
1450 points

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Kull had learned many lessons during his career. Put your ass into your blows, sleep with your sword by your side, let anger guide your strength, not your decisions. The most important rule by far, however, was to never take your eyes off your opponent. Kull had only one eye, but that was still better vision than Dame had when she rolled.
Kull transitioned smoothly, pivoting clockwise on his rear right heel as he whirled after his opponent, left foot shoving off the ground and lashing out like an inverted stake hammer. As Dame came to her feet, before she had the chance to stand she'd be abruptly greeted by Kull's clodhopper of a boot, potentially snapping her head back on its axis and shattering her jaw like glass. When she rolled, she'd have lost a steady line of sight with him, all he needed to catch her by surprise on the rebound unless she'd thought up a contingency plan for having her head punted like a soccer ball. He'd have his left hand open in low guard near his pelvis and his right fist clenched before his breastplate, likely originating from a common pugilistic orthodox stance.

Perhaps Dame had expected Kull to grab for his spare weapons first, giving her time to go on the offensive whilst her opponent was unarmed. It could be a good mid-fight hunch, only, Kull's armored fists and feet were spare weapons, and he didn't miss a beat when he saw a chance to use 'em. He'd save his absurd, red-faced, throbbing vein in the forehead exclamation of violence until after he had done his darndest to mollywhop Dame, the better to not give away his attack with undue noise, another lifelong lesson he had once learned about the hard way.


He's throwing it to reach her before she reaches him.

It was a situation Kull hadn't encountered before. An opponent who had thrown away their life to give their partner a fighting chance, even if it were unintentional. He'd not expected such audacity. Usually, he was the one who pulled the crazy shit. Kull hadn't time to bring his greataxe up for a swing, and it wasn't very convenient to defend against a rapier to begin with, so he opted for a less predictable solution. He pitched the huge bladed weapon headlong into Dame's legs as she surged up to him, letting her forward momentum take her to a world of pain before she got close enough to confidently stab him. She could still try, but she'd likely have to overextend and risk worse retribution. She was only lightly armored, her dress a pain in the ass, and she'd be hard pressed not to suffer severe gashes, torn ligaments, or damaged knees, depending on how she handled the counter. Either way, having an oversized battleaxe tossed head first into your legs really, really sucked. Most two handed weapons rarely exceeded seven pounds in weight, yet Kull's was three times that. It was made to create openings, to take advantage of those with common sense. It could only be wielded with about as much grace as a sledgehammer, but damned if it wasn't good for distractions. Few could look past the axe to see that the one holding it was a far more dangerous weapon.

Dangerous, but still annoyingly loud. He spat a wad of blood out before starting off on a mid-fight rant.


With Umbard's first step after hesitating, he had moved into the creature's range. Its tail sliced across the ground, a blur. It'd smash Umbard's lead foot out from under him right before he stepped down with it in the beginning of his charge. If he was sent to the ground, then in flash the monster would have spun around and surged towards him like a greased train, no doubt intending to get some cuddling in before the dragon girl made it back.

New York magazine stands didn't have windows, and they typically protruded out onto the sidewalk, obscuring any who might be standing in front of it from the windows on the building behind it. That being said, an eye for detail can find a way. A soda cooler at the side of the stand might allow Arais just enough of a look to see that Donny was pulling something, though it'd be lit from within, making it tough to find a reflection.

The bullet would thwack into one of the stony chunks in front of Fade's head, probably splitting it apart. The ballistic splinters of rock and dust might get in his eyes. A Casull could, after all, break a bowling ball in two. Immediately after firing Donny dropped the dog and pitched diagonally to his left, into forwards tumble to evade an attack he figured would immediately emerge from the pillar behind him and the pillars on either side, guessing that they might fall on him. That left diagonal movement as his safest option. It had been a predictive dodge, unrelated to the ground spikes, but an effective one nonetheless. You had to keep moving in a fight, that was one of the most basic rules for survival. The spikes sheared through the bottom of Donny's overcoat as he leapt, tearing it off him and causing him to land hard on his left shoulder, skidding on the sidewalk for two feet before he rolled to his feet. Blood ran down his bicep, skin torn from road rash. No time to contemplate near death, he had to act.

Coat gone, even a child could see that Donny bristled with weapons. Not Fade though, as Donny fired off another bullet at his opponent's head coming up from the roll to force him to keep a rock in place there, and to create a burst of blinding debris that could mess with Fade's eyes. Donny's left hand flashed out not a split second later, yanking something off his belt with a barely heard clicking noise and pegging it. The object swung through the air as if on an invisible pendulum, actually flying behind Fade's position whilst he was presumably occupied with debris, the item arching around his body. It seemed to be a weight at the end of a nearby invisible wire which would string Fade to his floating rocks, cutting a few millimeters into his skin if it slung around him. Donny half turned to bolt, but his left foot tripped over his right and he fell hard on his left flank, the razor wire not nearly taut enough yet to cause significant damage to Fade. It seemed Donny had let too much reel out.

"Aw #$%&! Stawp! Truce!"

Donny dropped his gun to the ground, leaving both hands empty.


Edited above post.

I'll edit tomorrow, just in case Hollow has second thoughts.

I'll use three characters, if that's fine.


You wanna continue this?


Oh. Look at that.

There's one of the problems. Yeah, no, that's way tougher to predict. Thanks for pointing that out, no wonder I felt like something was off. Mistook your knife stab for a sword thrust.
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