Doc Doctor
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(The Document Doctor)
STATUS: Moved to Discord. Visit my YouTube channel (ArtyPickles PvP) at m.youtube.com/channel/UCVer… 5 yrs ago
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Moved to Discord. Visit my YouTube channel (ArtyPickles PvP) at m.youtube.com/channel/UCVer…
Bio
Call me Doc. I prefer RM, UM, or LP fights, with human or peak human hand-to-hand or swords & sandals being my speciality.
Challenge me to a match any old time!
Arena Characters: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/87852-docs-characters-no-posting/ooc#post-3105991
Challenge me to a match any old time!
Arena Characters: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/87852-docs-characters-no-posting/ooc#post-3105991
Most Recent Posts
@Cruallassar
He would indeed be more than a few feet away and out of Shash's normal range, hence the use of the net flail. But keep in mind that on two occasions he had gotten within the monster's striking distance. He varied his approaches and gave no indicator that from henceforth he'd not even get close to it.
And it lashed its tail forwards and up after dragging the snapping portion, like how a bull whip is cracked by a beginner. Here's how it looks.
From this...
To this.
Here is a scene from a horror movie that includes a very similar trick. I can't provide the vid link on mobile, but just click and watch the video at the top of the results, "Very mutated man..."
https://www.google.com/search?q=beginner+whip+cracking&oq=beginner+whip+&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0l2.4490j0j4&client=ms-android-metropcs-us&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8#q=slither+very+mutated+man+spills
He would indeed be more than a few feet away and out of Shash's normal range, hence the use of the net flail. But keep in mind that on two occasions he had gotten within the monster's striking distance. He varied his approaches and gave no indicator that from henceforth he'd not even get close to it.
And it lashed its tail forwards and up after dragging the snapping portion, like how a bull whip is cracked by a beginner. Here's how it looks.
From this...
To this.
Here is a scene from a horror movie that includes a very similar trick. I can't provide the vid link on mobile, but just click and watch the video at the top of the results, "Very mutated man..."
https://www.google.com/search?q=beginner+whip+cracking&oq=beginner+whip+&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0l2.4490j0j4&client=ms-android-metropcs-us&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8#q=slither+very+mutated+man+spills
@Cruallassar
You never mentioned how far you were, so its a bit late to add in more details. Such is why specifics such as attacking with the left or right arm are important too.
Of course I figured that safe range was a moot point, since all he needs to do to escape an explosion is shadow away, which you mentioned he'd do the moment he loosed the arrows. The reason provided for him distancing himself is negligible.
Basically, there's no logical justification in just now mentioning that Crual is out of the monster's extended range. Otherwise I could potentially claim something like the tunnel they are in being only as long as the monster's reach, since it was indeed made by me to accomodate the creature with no exact specifications given.
You never mentioned how far you were, so its a bit late to add in more details. Such is why specifics such as attacking with the left or right arm are important too.
Of course I figured that safe range was a moot point, since all he needs to do to escape an explosion is shadow away, which you mentioned he'd do the moment he loosed the arrows. The reason provided for him distancing himself is negligible.
Basically, there's no logical justification in just now mentioning that Crual is out of the monster's extended range. Otherwise I could potentially claim something like the tunnel they are in being only as long as the monster's reach, since it was indeed made by me to accomodate the creature with no exact specifications given.
Zande was already in the midst of his next attack, right weapon swinging up over his head as he loomed in. Perhaps there was a certain method to his madness, all in all. He wound up for strikes of incredible force, taking irregular pauses betwixt each one to catch his opponents off guard. But there was more to it than that, a psychological factor. It was intimidation. Even if Zande himself didn't know it, his particular style conditioned opponents to fear the next blow, to wish for it to come all the more quickly that the dread anticipation be quenched.
The muscles in the cannibal's right bicep twitched, and he leaned forwards sharply. Was he going to try and brain the knight over his shield? Not this time. It was a fake out to try and make Zachary lift his shield and obscure his own vision out of reflex, since it didn't pay to take chances with the lethal seven pound sparth axes. Every single move though, was a risk. Were the knight to raise his scutum, Zande would instead hurl himself bodily upon the shield with a maniacal scream, attempting to rugby tackle the man to the ground and pin him beneath his own defense. Zande would keep his left axe held near to guard against the possibility of the man attempting a sudden stab.
If Zachary didn't fall for the feint, then Zande would bring his already raised right axe cocking as far back as it could reach before unleashing an explosive snort of fogged breath, swinging it down in a homing overhead chop with as much vigor as his untamed body could unleash, rippling legs uncoiling like steel torsion springs as the elevated emissary of terminal absolution slung forth in a flashing arc of white hot death. This one easily boasted enough blistering power to harshly dent in the shield with a resonating *KERBLONGGGG*, making the knight's knees literally sink a couple inches into the mud if he blocked the hit. This black dude's capacity for violence was no joke.
The muscles in the cannibal's right bicep twitched, and he leaned forwards sharply. Was he going to try and brain the knight over his shield? Not this time. It was a fake out to try and make Zachary lift his shield and obscure his own vision out of reflex, since it didn't pay to take chances with the lethal seven pound sparth axes. Every single move though, was a risk. Were the knight to raise his scutum, Zande would instead hurl himself bodily upon the shield with a maniacal scream, attempting to rugby tackle the man to the ground and pin him beneath his own defense. Zande would keep his left axe held near to guard against the possibility of the man attempting a sudden stab.
If Zachary didn't fall for the feint, then Zande would bring his already raised right axe cocking as far back as it could reach before unleashing an explosive snort of fogged breath, swinging it down in a homing overhead chop with as much vigor as his untamed body could unleash, rippling legs uncoiling like steel torsion springs as the elevated emissary of terminal absolution slung forth in a flashing arc of white hot death. This one easily boasted enough blistering power to harshly dent in the shield with a resonating *KERBLONGGGG*, making the knight's knees literally sink a couple inches into the mud if he blocked the hit. This black dude's capacity for violence was no joke.
The creature's wiles were far from limited to tossing shit like an ape. It hadn't really expected the rock to hit. That would be too easy. Not to say the rock wasn't important in the overall plan. Afterall, the only way to hit someone that can vanish at will is to hit them before they have the will to vanish. To do that a distraction was needed, hence the rock.
At about roughly the same time Crual moved to avoid the rock, when his attention was on the blur of the stone, the Magna Pater's prehensile tail flicked upwards like an inverted scourge. The very tip, muscular and flexible, was curled about the middle threads of the net which it had been pulling along beneath the tail. The tail couldn't reach its target, but what it was subtly holding could. There is an old torture weapon known as a cat o' nine tails. A whip with multiple heads, and small stones or glass tied into each strip of leather. Such a thing would be only partially comparable to what now was sent lashing up from beneath Crual, for it was twice as long as any nine tails whip and the jagged chunks of basalt glued to each strand, still very sticky on the edges and underside which the monster had cleverly not slimed, were of vastly greater size and heft than the paltry bits of debris found in the impromptu weapon's namesake.
It could very well take a miracle for the elf not to get absolutely clobbered by the big mess of stone laden strings, uppercutted hard enough to put him out of his senses and redirect his fire up at the roof of the tunnel above his head, perhaps making him even blow himself up. Even if the elf didn't get exploded, it would take but a second or two for the monster to jerk his stuck and stunned personage in close for the kill. And even if that didn't occur, of all things, there was always the consolation prize which the beast had set its mind on attaining. The ranger's bow. It hoped to at least tear it from the elf's hands with the suddeness of the sticky, entangling strings before the one holding the black bow had a chance to phase away with it, soiling the aim and taking away the most important tool in its foe's arsenal. Certainly it would be an improbable feat to keep a straight aim when getting ragged by a giant flail.
It was a tricky beastie that relied as much on smarts as strength, that had been obvious from the beginning. But perhaps now it would be clear just why in over a thousand years, not even the utmost efforts of the wisest hunters and boldest heroes had bested it.
At about roughly the same time Crual moved to avoid the rock, when his attention was on the blur of the stone, the Magna Pater's prehensile tail flicked upwards like an inverted scourge. The very tip, muscular and flexible, was curled about the middle threads of the net which it had been pulling along beneath the tail. The tail couldn't reach its target, but what it was subtly holding could. There is an old torture weapon known as a cat o' nine tails. A whip with multiple heads, and small stones or glass tied into each strip of leather. Such a thing would be only partially comparable to what now was sent lashing up from beneath Crual, for it was twice as long as any nine tails whip and the jagged chunks of basalt glued to each strand, still very sticky on the edges and underside which the monster had cleverly not slimed, were of vastly greater size and heft than the paltry bits of debris found in the impromptu weapon's namesake.
It could very well take a miracle for the elf not to get absolutely clobbered by the big mess of stone laden strings, uppercutted hard enough to put him out of his senses and redirect his fire up at the roof of the tunnel above his head, perhaps making him even blow himself up. Even if the elf didn't get exploded, it would take but a second or two for the monster to jerk his stuck and stunned personage in close for the kill. And even if that didn't occur, of all things, there was always the consolation prize which the beast had set its mind on attaining. The ranger's bow. It hoped to at least tear it from the elf's hands with the suddeness of the sticky, entangling strings before the one holding the black bow had a chance to phase away with it, soiling the aim and taking away the most important tool in its foe's arsenal. Certainly it would be an improbable feat to keep a straight aim when getting ragged by a giant flail.
It was a tricky beastie that relied as much on smarts as strength, that had been obvious from the beginning. But perhaps now it would be clear just why in over a thousand years, not even the utmost efforts of the wisest hunters and boldest heroes had bested it.
The situation had been planned out by the horror. It had set a trap.
The monster was well used to how Crual moved now. It had needed only to see it a few times to get the hang of figuring out where he'd pop up and when. It chucked the stone it had been holding right into the spot where the ranger's head was to appear, disguising the throw as being a part its turning around to face the elf. At the same time its tail darted along the ground towards Crual, though judging by the distance it wouldn't reach its target in fast enough to get close before the arrows came. Such was its formidable timing that the rock would be set to connect just before the arrows were loosed. Even if his transportation wasn't the kind that could get one transmuted to death with solid objects, there would still be the matter of getting physically creamed by a rock hurled from a beast that could tear a major league pitcher clean in two.
But...
The creature knew as well as any general that even the best laid strategies can go awry. That would be why, likely unnoticed by the ranger, that the web the Magna Pater had just torn free was no longer on the ground where it had been tossed. The ground which was littered with the countless, innumerable shadows of rocks, bones, and who knew what else.
The monster was well used to how Crual moved now. It had needed only to see it a few times to get the hang of figuring out where he'd pop up and when. It chucked the stone it had been holding right into the spot where the ranger's head was to appear, disguising the throw as being a part its turning around to face the elf. At the same time its tail darted along the ground towards Crual, though judging by the distance it wouldn't reach its target in fast enough to get close before the arrows came. Such was its formidable timing that the rock would be set to connect just before the arrows were loosed. Even if his transportation wasn't the kind that could get one transmuted to death with solid objects, there would still be the matter of getting physically creamed by a rock hurled from a beast that could tear a major league pitcher clean in two.
But...
The creature knew as well as any general that even the best laid strategies can go awry. That would be why, likely unnoticed by the ranger, that the web the Magna Pater had just torn free was no longer on the ground where it had been tossed. The ground which was littered with the countless, innumerable shadows of rocks, bones, and who knew what else.
The leading tunnel has been winding but simple, however the chambers following it were expansive and many. Trying to sift through them all would be like trying to decipher an especially nasty grade school maze puzzle. One that weaved into the far distance, intermingling ethereal free standing shadows together into a mish-mash of confusion. Chances are the ranger would be unable to see much further than the length of a football field once the battle went deeper. The monster had noticed the telltale disruptions of Crual's passing as he hid. It was fine with that and went on to do its business. It slithered towards the tunnel it wanted to go through, only to find more nets. It began rubbing up against them in preparation to break through again.
@Cruallassar
Feel free to interrupt actions if possible, Shash had less ground to cover and superior spatial awareness. My post isn't assuming that Crual would pop up in the same chamber as the monster, unless that's really what he wants to do of course.
Feel free to interrupt actions if possible, Shash had less ground to cover and superior spatial awareness. My post isn't assuming that Crual would pop up in the same chamber as the monster, unless that's really what he wants to do of course.
@Cuccoruler
The whole concept of it is that it never leaves you alone. Expect it to be popping up throughout the entire adventure like Team Rocket. Except, you know, a lot better at the job.
The whole concept of it is that it never leaves you alone. Expect it to be popping up throughout the entire adventure like Team Rocket. Except, you know, a lot better at the job.
A fighter that used his head might use such a chance to back away and evaluate any vulnerabilities. Zande fought not with intelligence but instinct. Without missing a beat he'd let the momentum of his swing carry him after his opponent, turning full around and taking a single massive left step in pursuit to close the distance, not intending to allow the man to even stand up from his roll. Relentless, fast, scarcely even thinking. Upon nearing Zachary, the tribesman would screw his heels into the ground and twist his torso towards his foe, putting the full heft of his lean body into a left-handed blow of such ferocious vehemence that even if the savage tool were blocked, the raw force would send the knight sprawling to the ground as if clubbed by the swing of a major league hitter. Zande's gaunt face was contorted in demonic emotion, lips pursed and eyes lethally sharp as he really, as the pros say, "put his ass into it". The knight would probably be in the process of turning around and rising up from his crouch when the headhunter rushed upon him, the attack aimed for the shield if Zachary were facing mostly away, or the sword arm if not.
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