RPM
tadcfnaf
Blair
Raineh Daze
Plank Sinatra
cosmiccowgirl
sillykins
KillamriX08Luke Schwarz-- Somewhere, Bas Rutten is smiling
Let's go!
Mordred's hopes found themselves dashed as Luke, having been able to get away with it thus far, juked the fireball again. Doing so required a multitude of actions, given his current close range.
A step out to the left with his lead foot, trailed by the sliding right. A twist of the torso, staying balanced and centered above his hips while simultaneously taking his upper body off the line of attack, close enough that he was fairly sure the back of his hoodie had been charred, but thankfully not lit. Finally a change of levels bringing his entire form low, ducking under the swipe of the blade aimed for his face.
Needless to say, the Faunus's follow-up stab missed.
All factors listed were necessary for proper evasion.
All factors listed also just happened to be conducive to Luke's counterattack, a combination drilled into him as a short man from the very first day Old Man Pops had taught him how to punch.
This is how it's done!
Already coiled like a spring from his outside slip, it was a simple matter of reversing the motion. Really it made perfect sense once you understood how it worked. Even he could pick up on the physics behind it.
Twisting his hips sharply back to the right, the pugilistic teen's entire body followed the motion in sequence, transferring the raw energy generated by the comparatively powerful legs and hips up the spine, through the shoulders and down his left arm, bent at a ninety degree angle, and finally into the first two knuckles of his fist, following like the end of a whip and carrying serious heat.
A left hook that was nothing to sneeze at by any means, smashing straight into Mordred's liver.
The kind of blow that made even the toughest of professional fighters double over in pain if it landed right. As in, the kind of people who smile and wave someone in for more if they take a hard shot straight to the nose.
Scary people, no doubt about it.
But even they bow before the almighty liver shot!
Not one to put all his eggs in one basket, Luke then uncorked his right hand, twisting again at the hips and launching a mortar-like overhand right straight for the mask right after his hook connected. He allowed Mordred no time to even breathe, let alone recover or bring his sword back in position to use again. A blow designed to sail clear over the other fighter's guard (hence the name) and crash into their temple, neck, maybe the back of the head. Wide, swinging, and powerful, but it needed to be set up by something else if you wanted it to land.
Perhaps a hook to the body!
You don't throw shots one at a time in this game.
Combinations are key.
He smirked even as he slid out from straight in front of the Faunus, cutting a good angle to evade potential returns.
You'd be so proud, little sister of mine.
Let's go!
Mordred's hopes found themselves dashed as Luke, having been able to get away with it thus far, juked the fireball again. Doing so required a multitude of actions, given his current close range.
A step out to the left with his lead foot, trailed by the sliding right. A twist of the torso, staying balanced and centered above his hips while simultaneously taking his upper body off the line of attack, close enough that he was fairly sure the back of his hoodie had been charred, but thankfully not lit. Finally a change of levels bringing his entire form low, ducking under the swipe of the blade aimed for his face.
Needless to say, the Faunus's follow-up stab missed.
All factors listed were necessary for proper evasion.
All factors listed also just happened to be conducive to Luke's counterattack, a combination drilled into him as a short man from the very first day Old Man Pops had taught him how to punch.
This is how it's done!
Already coiled like a spring from his outside slip, it was a simple matter of reversing the motion. Really it made perfect sense once you understood how it worked. Even he could pick up on the physics behind it.
Twisting his hips sharply back to the right, the pugilistic teen's entire body followed the motion in sequence, transferring the raw energy generated by the comparatively powerful legs and hips up the spine, through the shoulders and down his left arm, bent at a ninety degree angle, and finally into the first two knuckles of his fist, following like the end of a whip and carrying serious heat.
A left hook that was nothing to sneeze at by any means, smashing straight into Mordred's liver.
The kind of blow that made even the toughest of professional fighters double over in pain if it landed right. As in, the kind of people who smile and wave someone in for more if they take a hard shot straight to the nose.
Scary people, no doubt about it.
But even they bow before the almighty liver shot!
Not one to put all his eggs in one basket, Luke then uncorked his right hand, twisting again at the hips and launching a mortar-like overhand right straight for the mask right after his hook connected. He allowed Mordred no time to even breathe, let alone recover or bring his sword back in position to use again. A blow designed to sail clear over the other fighter's guard (hence the name) and crash into their temple, neck, maybe the back of the head. Wide, swinging, and powerful, but it needed to be set up by something else if you wanted it to land.
Perhaps a hook to the body!
You don't throw shots one at a time in this game.
Combinations are key.
He smirked even as he slid out from straight in front of the Faunus, cutting a good angle to evade potential returns.
You'd be so proud, little sister of mine.