wrathlead
LeeRoy
OhmI don't think he would expend all his energies fighting you. I haven't used any energy yet, haven't even tapped into the powered aspects of his character yet.
Skallagrim Member
Walker between Worlds
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Skallagrim
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- Skallagrim 12 yrs ago
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There are a few things. Physical attacks that harm flesh and blood creatures are really ineffective. Your best weapon is your tonfa but I have range on you with the sword. @Rilla, @Melonhead and @DJAtomika will attest Skallagrim's strength is not physical in nature. While an excellent hand to hand fighter, his strength is his aesr power. Drain it or force him to use it often are the best ways to limit his ability to wreck havoc. Otherwise he becomes an extremely deadly opponent.
Option one: Duck under the thrust and barrel into me removing me from my feet, which you could have done. Best option.
Option two: Slap the thrust aside and use the tonfa in an attempt to disarm me, again probably possible, although leaving you open to a stab from the dagger. Not bad, but opens to attack.
Mistake. Try and grapple my sword arm, focusing your attention strictly one of my available weapons leaving yourself open to other avenues of attack.
Option two: Slap the thrust aside and use the tonfa in an attempt to disarm me, again probably possible, although leaving you open to a stab from the dagger. Not bad, but opens to attack.
Mistake. Try and grapple my sword arm, focusing your attention strictly one of my available weapons leaving yourself open to other avenues of attack.
Thrum.
The life of a warrior was hard, brutal and oftentimes short. More so when faced with a warrior of Skallagrim’s caliber and Scion would soon discover this simple fact. The thrust enacted perfectly, a texted book example of passing guard and attacking the weak point, in this case the man’s throat. He expected Scion would manage a counter to the thrust and so, it happened.
A moment of pure unadulterated beauty occurred as the tonfa connected with the war sword. A cacophony of sound reverberated throughout the small space they occupied for the blunt object was hefty enough to cause the war sword to sing with a sweet percussion. How sweet the sound.
A menagerie of voices cascaded through the Galdhr as Dreamer after Dreamer noted the dark portals created by Dennis; worm holes of limited dimensional space connecting two points in relatively close proximity. Skallagrim felt the swirling of energies, recorded them and noted their signature, for they would become a herald song in any further attempts to use them during their fight.
How the fortunes of fate twisted when the life of a man hung precariously in balance. The sword would indeed miss its mark, sluicing into a portal that Dennis created. However, Dennis was not omnipotent, and while his intent was clear and clever, he didn’t understand the full extent of Skallagrim’s attack. In such close proximity, the attack became clear as for some inexplicable reason Scion dropped the tonfa grasping for the right hand of the Dreamer.
Time slowed as the tonfa hung a moment before gravity took hold of it, before it began its descent to earth. In that moment the skeletal warrior struck. The war sword coming back into a wide circle, even as the tip passed through the portal it was pulling back. Left arm tucking in tight as the left leg shot up like a piston, drawing the knee towards his torso. The shield shimmered before transforming into a writhing black mass of a dagger as the left arm drew in tight to Skallagrim’s torso. Then with incredible power, Skallagrim’s left foot shot down towards the exposed right foot of Scion in a purring motion designed to break the top most bones of Scion’s right foot.
Grasp.
Scion’s hand encircled Skallagrim’s armored forearm with limited success as his dagger shot into the armored wrist. For certes, the dagger pierced the armor, nicking bone as it causing the Dreamer a moment of discomfort as bone chips broke loose, flying away. However since there was no flesh, nothing but amethyst energies encapsulating bone, there were no muscles to tear. There were no tendons to cut and no flesh to pierce, for the Dreamer had relinquished such frailties’ millennia ago. As such, the punctured bone did not create pain, nor did it create a structural imbalance by virtue of the size of the wound to cause the Dreamer to drop the sword.
Like a piston, the shod boot of Skallagrim would hammer into the exposed right foot, intent to break through the foot and touch earth. Twenty-six hundred pounds of force would land on the top of the foot. As it did so, the tip of Keefe grazed the back of his left calf, a shower of sparks rained down on both Skallagrim’s left foot and Scion’s right.
The racing silver-blue energies on the war sword hummed and crackled with such ferocity it seemed alive. Eager to bite again the flesh of Scion, the sword vibrated enough that Scion might be able to feel it through his grasp of the Dreamer.
Once again, the exchange of blows required an assessment of damage exchanged. A perfect hole in the black armor of the Dreamer as well as chips and fragments of his forearm floated in the energies that constituted Skallagrim’s life force.
The situation now would be tenuous for Scion should he remain in close proximity to the Dreamer. Open to Skallagrim were a number of holds and moves that could end the fight, perhaps even end the man’s life. If Dennis or Scion were of quick enough mind, they would have realized all of the actions taken thus far were to inflict damage, but not kill. The thrust to his throat, aimed for the outside portion of his neck. It seemed under careful scrutiny that it was nick Scion’s neck, causing a shower of blood and pain. Every move seemed intent to hamper and cause pain, but not to kill.
The life of a warrior was hard, brutal and oftentimes short. More so when faced with a warrior of Skallagrim’s caliber and Scion would soon discover this simple fact. The thrust enacted perfectly, a texted book example of passing guard and attacking the weak point, in this case the man’s throat. He expected Scion would manage a counter to the thrust and so, it happened.
A moment of pure unadulterated beauty occurred as the tonfa connected with the war sword. A cacophony of sound reverberated throughout the small space they occupied for the blunt object was hefty enough to cause the war sword to sing with a sweet percussion. How sweet the sound.
A menagerie of voices cascaded through the Galdhr as Dreamer after Dreamer noted the dark portals created by Dennis; worm holes of limited dimensional space connecting two points in relatively close proximity. Skallagrim felt the swirling of energies, recorded them and noted their signature, for they would become a herald song in any further attempts to use them during their fight.
How the fortunes of fate twisted when the life of a man hung precariously in balance. The sword would indeed miss its mark, sluicing into a portal that Dennis created. However, Dennis was not omnipotent, and while his intent was clear and clever, he didn’t understand the full extent of Skallagrim’s attack. In such close proximity, the attack became clear as for some inexplicable reason Scion dropped the tonfa grasping for the right hand of the Dreamer.
Time slowed as the tonfa hung a moment before gravity took hold of it, before it began its descent to earth. In that moment the skeletal warrior struck. The war sword coming back into a wide circle, even as the tip passed through the portal it was pulling back. Left arm tucking in tight as the left leg shot up like a piston, drawing the knee towards his torso. The shield shimmered before transforming into a writhing black mass of a dagger as the left arm drew in tight to Skallagrim’s torso. Then with incredible power, Skallagrim’s left foot shot down towards the exposed right foot of Scion in a purring motion designed to break the top most bones of Scion’s right foot.
Grasp.
Scion’s hand encircled Skallagrim’s armored forearm with limited success as his dagger shot into the armored wrist. For certes, the dagger pierced the armor, nicking bone as it causing the Dreamer a moment of discomfort as bone chips broke loose, flying away. However since there was no flesh, nothing but amethyst energies encapsulating bone, there were no muscles to tear. There were no tendons to cut and no flesh to pierce, for the Dreamer had relinquished such frailties’ millennia ago. As such, the punctured bone did not create pain, nor did it create a structural imbalance by virtue of the size of the wound to cause the Dreamer to drop the sword.
Like a piston, the shod boot of Skallagrim would hammer into the exposed right foot, intent to break through the foot and touch earth. Twenty-six hundred pounds of force would land on the top of the foot. As it did so, the tip of Keefe grazed the back of his left calf, a shower of sparks rained down on both Skallagrim’s left foot and Scion’s right.
The racing silver-blue energies on the war sword hummed and crackled with such ferocity it seemed alive. Eager to bite again the flesh of Scion, the sword vibrated enough that Scion might be able to feel it through his grasp of the Dreamer.
Once again, the exchange of blows required an assessment of damage exchanged. A perfect hole in the black armor of the Dreamer as well as chips and fragments of his forearm floated in the energies that constituted Skallagrim’s life force.
The situation now would be tenuous for Scion should he remain in close proximity to the Dreamer. Open to Skallagrim were a number of holds and moves that could end the fight, perhaps even end the man’s life. If Dennis or Scion were of quick enough mind, they would have realized all of the actions taken thus far were to inflict damage, but not kill. The thrust to his throat, aimed for the outside portion of his neck. It seemed under careful scrutiny that it was nick Scion’s neck, causing a shower of blood and pain. Every move seemed intent to hamper and cause pain, but not to kill.
@DJAtomika I know you can write more complete scenes. Push yourself to develop detail and story into your posts.
You have a few options that can remove you from harms way. The way I see it you have two good options and one that puts you directly in line for another damaging cut.
Thrum.
A moment passes. A singular aspect of time condensed from a thousand fragments of separate linear instances to one complete now. In this frozen moment a hundred, a thousand different dream fragments merged into existence as Dreamers separated and analyzed the events of the opening gambits.
In an instant the guard was at once in a middle position as the Cughtagh felt the combined dreams merge into a thousand variables open to Scion at this moment. Even with that, Skallagrim understood too well the intricacies of combat. The man known as Scion faced him in an odd stance. A skillful warrior is adaptable, fighting to the enemy not to the plan. Thus for all the myriad of options, Skallagrim expected the unexpected. And the next few seconds certainly were unexpected. Neither man had moved thus the six-feet remained between them, a distance easily with in the deadly reach of the war sword.
Scion maneuvered his weapons into opposite hands, indicating that the man was right-hand dominate. Something Skallagrim had already surmised based on the first exchange. It was the next move that played towards the Dreamers favor. Scion charged at him, he would close the scant six-feet in a mere fraction of a second. The war sword, in the middle guard simply angled up as Skallagrim passed his right leg forward and met the oncoming Scion.
The sword would strike towards the man’s neck, between Scion’s left shoulder and clavicle. The thrust, accelerating with the passing guard would strike with as much kinetic force as possible. If the blow were not met with equal force, it would pierce the man through his neck, and possibly nicking his spinal cord on the way out. Since Scion had the smaller dagger to use as point defense against the quick thrust, and it was quick indeed, as the six-feet dropped to nil by both of their moves he would have the possibility of injuring himself on the glass sharp edges of the sword trying to shuffle the blow away.
A thousand voices cried in delight as they watched the trap being laid for the man known as Scion. It was clear he had several options open to him; however the one he chose would determine his physical well-being in the next few moments. The shimmering, swirling silver-blue energies on the sword crackled and hummed with excitement as the two men were now in close quarters. The swirling dark shield on Skallagrim’s left arm, roiling with anticipation for the next moves to be enacted, barely contained the savage glee within.
Whatever plan Scion may have had, most certainly would be placed on the back burner with the prospect of being run through the neck looming.
A moment passes. A singular aspect of time condensed from a thousand fragments of separate linear instances to one complete now. In this frozen moment a hundred, a thousand different dream fragments merged into existence as Dreamers separated and analyzed the events of the opening gambits.
In an instant the guard was at once in a middle position as the Cughtagh felt the combined dreams merge into a thousand variables open to Scion at this moment. Even with that, Skallagrim understood too well the intricacies of combat. The man known as Scion faced him in an odd stance. A skillful warrior is adaptable, fighting to the enemy not to the plan. Thus for all the myriad of options, Skallagrim expected the unexpected. And the next few seconds certainly were unexpected. Neither man had moved thus the six-feet remained between them, a distance easily with in the deadly reach of the war sword.
Scion maneuvered his weapons into opposite hands, indicating that the man was right-hand dominate. Something Skallagrim had already surmised based on the first exchange. It was the next move that played towards the Dreamers favor. Scion charged at him, he would close the scant six-feet in a mere fraction of a second. The war sword, in the middle guard simply angled up as Skallagrim passed his right leg forward and met the oncoming Scion.
The sword would strike towards the man’s neck, between Scion’s left shoulder and clavicle. The thrust, accelerating with the passing guard would strike with as much kinetic force as possible. If the blow were not met with equal force, it would pierce the man through his neck, and possibly nicking his spinal cord on the way out. Since Scion had the smaller dagger to use as point defense against the quick thrust, and it was quick indeed, as the six-feet dropped to nil by both of their moves he would have the possibility of injuring himself on the glass sharp edges of the sword trying to shuffle the blow away.
A thousand voices cried in delight as they watched the trap being laid for the man known as Scion. It was clear he had several options open to him; however the one he chose would determine his physical well-being in the next few moments. The shimmering, swirling silver-blue energies on the sword crackled and hummed with excitement as the two men were now in close quarters. The swirling dark shield on Skallagrim’s left arm, roiling with anticipation for the next moves to be enacted, barely contained the savage glee within.
Whatever plan Scion may have had, most certainly would be placed on the back burner with the prospect of being run through the neck looming.
Every fight has different parameters. Were you using longer edged weapons our fight would be much different. My cuts would be along different lines.
ASTA probably would mech up with you in a fight.
Feel free to comment on Scion and my fight. It is always good to see what others pickup in a fight.
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