Doc Doctor

CREATION CHANT - Facere Vs. The Magna Pater

@LeeRoy

As he stretched out, Facere might feel like wandering over to take a closer gander at the lumpy log or fallen tree stretched out forty feet ahead of him. It'd be inexplicable, faintly curious, as if it were an modestly interesting object you'd just happened to notice on the ground. Undeniably he had awakened into a strange and malignant world, but nothing catastrophic seemed to be befalling him where he stood, and that fallen tree... It looked different from the others. There were few clues, if any, to his circumstance, but what harm could come from checking that thing out...

The Pull was a subtle strength. Rarely do fish know the hook from the bait. The emotion of faint curiosity was just that, faint, so that the victim wouldn't be able to tell that it wasn't their own feeling, but a projection. The Magna Pater could imitate a fallen tree, deprived of its branches, quite well. It didn't need to shift with breath, and what features it did have that bore a similarity to moving creatures, eyes, nose, ears, arms, ect, could be folded down, folded in, glazed over with a light layer of dull mucous nigh indistinguishable from mist dew in the gloom. Even Facere's eyes, likely far sharper than those of a hawk, would probably not be able to tell that the inert form was or had ever been a living creature. No bark? A decomposing tree in damp conditions could easily take on visible textures hard to differentiate from the Magna Pater's flesh.

Were Facere to move within six yards of the object, the interest would wane, and in its place, for only a fraction of a section, would the weight of an immense sense of danger loom, overshadowing all. The pressure of the imminent activation of the Malocchio, a power that briefly warps the laws of nature, inevitably forecasts itself on a psychic level. He'd know without a doubt that if he continued looking at the form in front of him, he'd see something that might very well wind up not only dooming him, but his entire existence as well. Such petty fears as tigers and bears could only kill and eat the mortal body. Facere would know that whatever was before him ate souls as a bonus. A moment later two huge, glassy eyes would be turned in his direction. They were Facere's eyes, enlarged horrific parodies that pierced the fog and stood apart from the shape with such stark contrast and detail, that they might as well have been holographic images seen through 3D specs.

Looking for First Fight.

@jakeb1993
I'll bite! I'll use the following character, without weapons and armor of course. He's fully armed in his profile, but ignore that. He's a Rough and Tumble style fighter when using his bare hands. We'll say he managed to fall through a portal into your girl's dojo, if you want to use her.

Zande Khanda

Name: Zande Khanda
Epithet: The Vulture
Age: 32
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 195 pounds
Boxing Reach: 84.5 in
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Weapons and Equipment- Two three kilo bearded sparth axes with snap button sheathes for fast access, a weighted serrated knife with a foot long blade, two seven inch steel karambit knives, a blowgun and eight darts with inland taipan venom, three one-ounce leather pouches of spitting cobra venom, rubber soled boots with three eight inch steel claws on each foot, steel chestplate and spiked pauldrons, steel shinguards, underclothing made from dragonhide (like an extremely tough form of steel chainmail with no gaps), a trained pet vulture acting as a spotter, a black steel war mask, and reinforced fingerless iron gauntlets imbedded with cast iron bird skulls.


(The axes "Hot Steppa", slang for Free Criminal, & "Jancro", slang for Vulture)

Appearance- Zande is a tall, lean man whose musculature is best likened to that of a starved jaguar. The dense, tube-like muscles adorning his long arms and legs allow him to exude a great air of physical prowess despite his wiry look. Unwashed dreadlocks hang over lurid, amber eyes whilst high cheekbones accentuate his abnormal jaw muscles, the feral aspect pushed even further by his sharpened teeth and fingernails. He wears the skulls of recent victims upon his belt and is never without his clawed boots and tribal mask. A skull and crossbones is sewn upon his cloak.

Physical Abilities/Skills- Zande's untamed strength is far greater than his appearance would suggest, albeit reasonably less than that of a formidable professional weightlifter. He can bench 350 and run twenty-five miles per hour on average. His most impressive traits consist of his incredible biting and striking power. He hits like a lumberjack on PCP, and never neglects to train his jaws by chewing through blocks of wood and chunks of rubber, rendering him capable of chomping through an unhusked coconut in seconds. As he was raised a jungle wildman, he can scurry up and down obstacles with contemptuous ease and move with a silent swiftness comparable to his native brethren.

Personality~ Despite appearing as an unabashed murderer 24/7, Zande comes off surprisingly chill. He'll greet strangers with nods and smiles, share food and drink on a whim, and help out passersby who seem in need. He affords everyone his good humor and generosity- even his victims, although his generosity doesn't extend to letting them live. He prefers to make friends with those he hunts, as Zande is actually emotionally sensitive beneath his harsh exterior.

He takes rejection badly, can't stand being the brunt of insults, is prone to nightmares over innocuously silly things (he has an incredible phobia of cats), and in general sways between being a relaxed, cold-blooded manhunter, and a manic depressive schizophrenic depending on how others treat him.

In battle, he blooms with a black passion which transmogrifies him into the killing machine that he is, a demon-brained predator who relentlessly chases down his prey. His psychotic rushdowns are legendary for both the consistency of their success and for their ability to force most opponents into a defensive lock, the threat of his wild axes preventing them from counterattacking or fleeing, bullying and grinding hapless opponents right into the ground until their shield and willpower crumples beneath the onslaught.

Background- In the darkest depths of a savage jungle wilderness, shrouded in dread Congo mysteries beneath a sky of eternal blackness, there existed a tribe of maneaters. One would think that there would be no bottom amidst the depths of their depravity. Yet, a young boy native to this landscape of monsters found it. The word "bloodthirsty" is often thrown about. However, no other description of Zande holds so true. He was exiled from his village for exceptional reasons and became a freelance mercenary and bandit leader, feared across the land. He's a cannibal and a headhunter, who seeks to further his reputation by collecting the skulls of formidable opponents. What about the rest you say? All the bloody details of his life? Nay. He has accomplished many feats, but a story like that of Zande's is monotonous in its repetition. He travels, he trains, he kills, he sleeps. Why worry about the details, bwana?


Looking out from the entrance to Zande's lair. The inside is remarkably large, yet with so little elbow room.

Theme Music-

@jakeb1993

Guild Versus the Heroes of 100!

@ImportantNobody

Goku can already kick Superman's ass.

Guild Versus the Heroes of 100!

"Awww shit! Run, Ozzy! Ependus Fartassio!"

Tom pointed a finger at the obsidian cube, firing a burst of purple light at it before turning tail and sprinting towards the castle, arms flailing like a muppet. Auz turned in confusion, drawing his sword.

"The fuck are you doing- AWWWW NOOO SHIT ITS EATING ME ITS EATING ME YOU ASSHOOOOOOLE!!"

The cube suddenly split open and a hulking shape darted out, tackling Auz to the ground and tearing through his armor and bones like styrofoam. Tom yelled back some encouragement as he abandoned his ally.

"Don't sweat it, you're basically immortal! Just trust me son! Trust me! I decided we'll be needin' that thing!"

Guild Versus the Heroes of 100!

@ImportantNobody

Yesterday was an exception, had to devote it all to getting drunk and watching the Dragon Ball Super special. I'll post in a couple hours after my hangover dies.

CREATION CHANT - Facere Vs. The Magna Pater

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CREATION CHANT - Facere Vs. The Magna Pater

@LeeRoy

It was supporting itself on its arms, reared back and swaying softly, silently, like a mantis on a stick. Its feelers, each as long as a child's leg, tasted the pressure of the fear in the air, tickled over dreams, nuzzled sickeningly at reality. It was in the process of flooding this realm with its presence, filling every nook and cranny. It had begun the same way as it always does. A pin poking through the fabric, planting itself as a seed from the outside. It grew steadily, a bubble of food coloring in a jug of water, expanding bit by bit until it burst. There can be no nightmare without a dreamer, but a dreamer's distinction between reality and dream is the barrier it had needed to overcome. It could flood an uninhabited universe immediately, but in one that had life, it needed to, at least temporarily, take on a physical form to begin its work proper, a quantum demon that needed to defile the mind before it could defile the matter. It had finally turned the tide by manipulating the minds of more than half the population, and now its power was like a tidal wave.

But, not here. For some reason it hadn't been able to influence this area, as hard as it tried. There was life here, something not sleeping, and stubborn in its grasp of what is real and what isn't. The Magna Pater had searched, and found nothing that it could immediately interpret as an Earthly lifeform. It was stumped, and in its timeless intelligence, utterly infuriated. Something was holding it back, and whatever it was, it was sentient. The monster cast out another powerful sonic volley, seeking to vainly echolocate biological matter that stood out against the environment. Rocks, trees, grass. Inside the cave was smooth, marble-like stone, as the monster interpreted it, and little else. In its frustration it arched its back and slung open its dripping mouth to more than ninety degrees, yowling as would a baby, or a hyena, or a cat, or a droning cicada, if all four could somehow coherently combine form a single, terrible cry, reverberating for countless leagues, even through the black barrier of imagination that marked the end of this world.

CREATION CHANT - Facere Vs. The Magna Pater

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CREATION CHANT - Facere Vs. The Magna Pater

Setting- Unknown. Everthing familiar has changed. A light, luminous mist has blanketed everything that is, and colossal, dimly seen forms can be seen moving strangely in the far distance and in the now boundless sky. Distant howls of terror, the eerie screams of every mind can be faintly heard for thousands of miles as human imagination becomes uncontrollable reality, and all things terrible are realized in ways that are best left unseen and undescribed. Facere's cave has been one of the few things left untouched by whatever has stricken the land with unreality. In the area around tbe cave, for several miles, the ground is still firm and the trees are still trees. Beyond that is fantasy, no man's land, a pure dreamscape that, once entered, cannot be escaped. It is the boundary.

BATTLE THEME

Guild Versus the Heroes of 100!

@ImportantNobody

Let's have it remain an open thread, just in case you run outa villains to slaughter. I say go ahead and post!