Doc Doctor

Only Two Things Come From Texas (LeeRoy Vs. Gonad)

@LeeRoy
As leeRoy kicked, Gonad's long right arm would leave his chest and thrust out to give the spaceman a harsh shove in the chest whilst he was still on one leg, fingers curled in so that they couldn't be broken by a lucky hit. LeeRoy could theoretically try to grab or strike away the arm of Gonad, perhaps he could even attempt to throw a punch into the funny bone in the elbow, but none of that would effectively stop the immensity of the push. If LeeRoy were unable to avoid it, he would be sent sprawling onto his back. The kick landed, but didn't seem to do anything. They say a strong enough kick to the groin can break the pelvis, but honestly, such a thing hasn't even been documented as having occurred, least of all to a quarter-ton barbarian. The real problem was that Gonad, having total control over his body, could retract his gonads right into the spaces in the abdomen where they were kept before dropping. His gooch could be badly bruised, certainly, but nothing less than a mortal wound would give the berserker pause.

Instead of the comical pain that leeRoy had probably expected, there would be a good chance of him instead winding up on the ground and looking up at the looming frame of the monstrous warrior, who would have paced forwards to stop and stare down. Again, LeeRoy would be able to perceive that hand-to-hand the wrong option here. Using a weapon would be far wiser, given how obvious it was that Gonad in and of himself was a tool of war. Right now it was like a naked peasant trying to attack a fully armed knight.

Only Two Things Come From Texas (LeeRoy Vs. Gonad)

@LeeRoy

I'm in suspense.

Black Mountain Tournament: Sigurd vs Gigue

<Snipped quote by Vordak>

I doubt it would make much difference in the end, Sigurd knows when to discard a useless tool, he literally frizbee'd his shield away the moment he was lifted. Sigurd sheds equipment faster than any of my characters, and its a trait most of them share.

@MelonHead

Sounds like they should get into the porn business.

Nergal summons the Magna Pater!

Ding dong, the monster was dead. Or was it? Whisps of eerie blue light floated slowly out from each of the creature's eye sockets, much like the extinguished smoke from the ritual candles. However, though it might have just been a trick of the mind, each luminescent streamer seemed to be teeming with thousands of teeny twitching cricket legs, crawling up through the air and fading through the ceiling.

Its essence was returning to the surreal chambers beyond the dark. It would be back one day distant, one fight wiser and one death meaner. Until then, Magitech had their sample. Surely they would derive many magnificent toxins and work glues from it. Perhaps even some lady lube.

Arena Chat Thread

@LeeRoy@ImportantNobody

Then what's the wait for? Let's do it.

Arena Chat Thread

@ImportantNobody
Sounds good to me.
I'd support a stickied thread of that.

Arena Chat Thread

@LeeRoy

I don't really have one.

Buuuut...

The arena should become universally accepted as a mass of interconnected multiverses populated by the greatest combatants in existence, with infinite continuities to explain how some characters fight in other timelines or realms after death. If your thingamabob helps bring that about, I'm all for it.

Arena Chat Thread

@LeeRoy

Dunno, still sounds like the Arena itself to me. Would explain a lot of shit.

Arena Chat Thread

@LeeRoy
Isn't that the Arena?

Only Two Things Come From Texas (LeeRoy Vs. Gonad)

@LeeRoy

Gonad walked towards LeeRoy, his one eye as guileless as the sky on a summer day. There was nothing hidden up this one's sleeve, and not an iota of doubt about what he was going to do. It had not been a dire transgression, certainly not one that lead to death. The barbarian was intent on a simple bar fight, nothing more. His beefy arms remained folded across his barrel chest, even as he got into striking distance. No doubt LeeRoy had his strengths, but this was a whole 'nother world. Gonad had instinct in addition to training, to say the least. A mathematician could spend his entire life calculating the best way to throw a punch that lands every time, imagining an invigorating scenario where it worked perfectly and against multiple opponents. Thinking that, in the right situation, with the right motivation, he could hulk out and beat the odds. Putting such a thing into practice, though, was tragically different. Men of the street, men of the gym, men of the dojo. They understood that difference in its entirety, because they knew what it felt like to have their pride destroyed and rebuilt over and over and over. Someone that knew what to do and had the action of that motion burned into their body through trail and error. That is what training, at its core, is. Doing something many times to get better at it. The greatest way to get experience is through experience.

How many kicks had Bruce Lee thrown in his life? Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands? When he moved, it was with a stunning decisiveness that most other fighters would fail to register as anything more than a blur, or a flicker. What of Gonad then, who had not lived in the times of modern man and the film industry, but in the primal ages of eternal warfare, wherein disfigured human bodies were piled on high like lumpy mountains, a visceral crimson biosphere tinting the horizon the same color as blood? Where a single misstep meant no second chance, forever after. Gonad did not attack as he strode in, but he wouldn't need to. LeeRoy would be able to see what might happen, to feel it, almost like a sort of precognition. This one was special. You don't spit into the wind. You don't steal the hat off a policeman in Hoboken. You don't hang your ass over a picket fence with a Doberman on the other side. Why on this realm or on any other, then, would LeeRoy stand his ground and raise his fists against one that lived and breathed knuckles and jawbones?