Doc Doctor

SLAM - Pollen Vs. Doc

@Drifting Pollen

Two seconds into Catskulls introduction, an entire set of alternate dimensions were brought into being. Catskull #3, created from Catskull #1, allowed his Dane sword to tumble to the ground, quickly drawing his rapier in a left underhand grip and the axe in his right. It'd take him only a hot second to shift his grip and right the rapier the way it was meant to be held, bringing it to bear by fully extending his left arm towards Tekla and aiming the point at her face, left foot leading. The shield and axe he kept relatively low. Provided Tekla didn't rush him in an attempt at keeping him from fully arming himself, not an easy feat given how much distance she had to cross, then he'd pick up the offensive and began creeping towards her, unwavering in his confidence.
Catskull #4 paused for two seconds after his creation, stopping to cough, but still keeping his eyes on Tekla before he resumed his approach. All the other Catskulls were apt to see what was going to happen to #2.

Tekla flung the end of the chain, and Catskull #2 was startled by her speed. He couldn't quite tell where the chain was going to fly, and thus in response he bent his right knee to drop lower and hunched over, blade whirling into a low outside hanging guard. The tip buried itself into the ground twenty inches from Catskull's lead foot, so that whether the chain went low or high, it'd catch the sword instead of a limb. If this came to pass, then immediately after he'd rush her, moving low and fast so that she'd not be able to pull the chain back efficiently with the sudden increase in slack. The shield was born horizontally before him, Dane sword cocked narrowly at his flank as if in preparation for a mighty two-handed horizontal slice, ready to defend or attack with equal parts efficiency. The chain would likely just slip off the blade. He'd be able to reach her in only a few seconds, slowing as he neared so he'd have a significant degree of control if she tried pulling something fancy.

Meanwhile, the Tekla that had to deal with Catskull #4 would witness the man neatly perform the same action that #2 had done, albeit much more calmly and with fractionally better timing. All the while, the original was still yammering on about the repute of the Maclungs and how insolent this woman was. His actual thoughts couldn't have been more different.

~What unnatural speed is this? No human woman could swing like that. This one is as swift even as I am, the ensouled Maclung trained by Malimore himself. To think a mere peasant... I should have emptied mine bladder at yonder pub, for now do I risk the dampening of my loins at the next bewilderment this concubine reveals.~

WEAPON OF CHOICE - Lysander Vs. Gonad

@Zyamasiel


Lysander was overestimating Gonad's durability and strength, and thus, his own by extension. Just as there was a finite about of weight he could lift, there was a finite amount of force he could withstand. His hardened head wasn't much more durable than the record held for the thickest skull amongst humans, that being one which could endure roughly 1,100 pounds of force before it was entirely crushed. It still wasn't Gonad in danger of being hurt though. Lysander's odd maneuver might have aided him in tanking a suplex from a normal man, but Gonad's destructive power when implementing wrestling finishers was something else precisely because it compiled every possible factor to maximize killing force.



The dynamic force of Gonad's German suplex spiked at at least 3,350 foot pounds, likely much greater, well over a ton and a half. As Lysander stretched his leg up to try and break his fall, it'd be subject to what amounted to the weight of a brand new Sedan. There was never a chance. If his leg was locked out, the kneecap would burst like an orange and fold backwards like a cheap lawn chair. If it was partially bent, it'd collapse in on itself with the ankle very likely snapping from the sheer unexpected power. There was no hope for deflection to safety, anymore than a nail had of deflecting the blow from a hammer should it bend mid-strike. As that first foot had been expected to save Lysander's head, the complete failure of it to meet the expectations would result in his skull splitting against the floor regardless. Gonad's back arch had been much steeper than what's usually seen in wrestling explicitly to peak Lysander's head past Gonad's at the apex of the maneuver, and to prevent said head of Lysander from leaving the impact zone, as Gonad was used to opponents trying such a desperate last ditch tactic. Gonad had grabbed Lysander around the waist for a reason. It allowed him to lift an opponent higher than would be possible with a higher grip, and when combined with Gonad's back bridge, made for a fiendishly difficult attack to avoid. His finishers were called finishers for a reason. Once Gonad had lifted an opponent off the ground, the combination of his and his opponents' weight, his excellent form, and the solidity of the impact surface reliably served as an often irrevocable death sentence. With at least a full ton of force still left over, Lysander's head would be due to hit the floor before his other foot and likely crack like a melon, with little time left to do anything in that time frame but admire the honed physics of one of the world's most brutal unarmed killing techniques.

GARFIELD vs SHREK : THE CLASH OF CHAMPIONS

@Warpcircuit

"..."

-Shrek squinted, stroking his chin.

"Wait a tick... Puss? Is it yew, Puss!? Yew really got buseh workin' out, eh!? But that lazinger's for Fiona. Tell yeh what. I'll give ye' some Meow Mix instead."

SLAM - Pollen Vs. Doc

@Drifting Pollen

Catskull grinned sardonically at her, and in a freshly made alternate dimension, Catskull #2 scowled ominously and hefted his Dane sword in both hands, left over right, left foot sliding a shoulder's length apart and backwards. He almost fully extended the sword before him, tip aimed at a point several inches above the woman's head. He'd begin striding towards her with over three feet of blade held two-and-a-half feet before himself. Meanwhile Catskill #1 continued talking. His method was a simple one. To maintain his frightening image, he killed those who stood before him from another dimension, thus making it seem as if he had killed them by will alone. Only the fallen knew they'd been struck down firsthand, but even that information became lost with the closure of death.

"Hmph. Ye' know of mine repute but still ye' brandish thy chain before me? Tell me, what be thy name, that on thy grave marker I may urinate on my way back through this festering dung pile called a village."

GARFIELD vs SHREK : THE CLASH OF CHAMPIONS

@Warpcircuit

"Yoouuugh! You're not Donkeh! What are yah doin' in mah SWAMP!?"

Shrek pointed a threatening green sausage finger at Garfield as the cat came into sight.

GARFIELD vs SHREK : THE CLASH OF CHAMPIONS

@Warpcircuit

The outhouse door burst open. Shrek emerged, a fusillade of flies orbiting his head.

"Somebodeh's in mah SWAMP!!"

GARFIELD vs SHREK : THE CLASH OF CHAMPIONS

@Warpcircuit
Should have used Borf Star Garfield.

How Many People Can One of Your Characters Fight Off

Gonad - As many as he needs to before he passes out from exhaustion. Likely thousands.

Donny - No limit. He could start a nuclear war and use clandestine tactics and political manipulation to remain untouchable. In a straight fight? About 800 people in a forest over the course of three months, slightly superior to the record of the Finnish sniper Simo Hayha. If allowed access to prep, he could kill tens of thousands.

Kull - 30.

Zande - 37.

Auz - Tens of thousands.

Catskull - A few hundred.

The Magna Pater - Limitless. Its current Earthly kill count is in the hundreds of thousands.

Tom - Seven.

GARFIELD vs SHREK : THE CLASH OF CHAMPIONS

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SLAM - Pollen Vs. Doc

@Drifting Pollen

The Autumn-gold light of daybreak filled the streets, flooding between shuttered windows and casting its blood orange glint on the gently rocking waves of the sea, breathing fresh vitality into the sleepy village, promising a brisk start to a particularly lovely day. A child trounced over a road puddle left by the night's light shower, a dog could be seen stretching its way out of an alley. Before long the smithy would be up and hammering out his wares, and the warm scent of coffee and fresh baked bread and cooking meat would slowly but insistently permeate the streets as housewives prepared breakfast. Before long doors would creak open and the villagers would emerge, relishing the cool, dawn-charged air as horse drawn carriages began their comforting rattle, passing two and fro on errands unknown.

The child stopped playing abruptly, and stared with wide eyes as the rind of sun rising from the sea was eclipsed by the broad silhouette of an uncommonly large man, cradling a lean two-handed sword in the crook of his left elbow, a spiked targe strapped to his right forearm, and an assortment of other brutal implements hanging at his waist. The puddle had only just regained its serene reflection of the life of the village, a glimpse of a blue sky tinged red framed by roughshod, but comfortable dwellings, when the man's boot unceremoniously plowed into it as he trod along his way, heedless of the tranquility, his presence disturbing drowsy villagers back behind their doors, windows slamming shut. Catskull's eyes, unlike the puddle, mirrored only the dull cold of his heart, baleful in their regard. He was passing through this peasant village only because it was unbefitting for a Maclung to walk around lower creatures. As much as these hovels and their wretched inhabitants disgusted him, he'd not allow himself the dishonor of being inconvenienced.
Before Catskull stood the stunned boy, unable to help himself at the sight of this strange, dark man. Catskull did not stop. He paced directly into the child and felled him with a curt knee to the face, trodding over the unfortunate like a doormat and continuing on his way, leaving the injured to scream and cry. Nobody emerged to help. One such as Catskull was not without repute, and the telltale black garb and wanton cruelty of the Maclungs was infamous even in the far countries. This particular morning, however, there was something more substantial than a mere peasant child standing between Catskull and his ambitions...