...Four.
Three fallers, one of them clinging to the Lady's severed strings, were dangling. With cruel distinction and immediate prejudice, the next one was chosen like the next unlucky bastard in a succession of guillotine dates. The bullet was already hot for the following impact, crimson leaded anticipation eschewing Luck's interference.
The scytheman demanded some hollow cast work, and the hell slinger and he agreed on one hell of a thing; The dusty damnation had taken place for too long. Old Man Death wanted to the train back at station; the gates were closing.
The hammer was struck like the first note after the fermata had ended, like the devil prodding to quell the unacceptable lack of the departed.
"...Alright Manco. Christmas has come early; make some hell out of it," Marlowe notified hoarsely. The congested directive was accompanied with the slotting of a trio of battle chips, the only kind of gifts that the slinger cared for.
The Desperado span the .45's chamber with stone set demeanor, gun growing warm like the pulse bleeding through a green hitman. The heat cast upon the death instrument was a loan from the Firehit chip, and with it brewed flames for the next lead.
Triggerman's unseen yet damning glare lingered on the first of the last a moment longer, but only long enough to permit the perpetuation of the pittance's trigger pull.
In a panther blitz, his gun armed snapped to his left, poncho following in like motion to accentuate the unremarked peace that had been a card toss away.
The bloody intention, cast in lead, dashed across the plane at a speed almost short of visibility; it was a streak of salamander, all effect and none of the dynamic, and it homed in like the Reaper's motion.
The Lady's vultures threw themselves at what they discerned to be another carcass; the thought of leaving the dead unremarked was the absence of a pithy indulgence.
The poker chips were spilled now, and the damned hadn't a chance at fixing their pile.
...Three.
Snapping his unstilled gun arm to the right, at an instant the next Unlucky One was picked from the great big Two that still dared to stand in the sand. The sorrowful vagabonds had the misfortune of sharing the same bullet, and Luck seemed to have it in for the sidekick.
There was no drama to be had in the next Act; just a theatre of fools trying to fulfill their own roles like him. Triggerman cracked another shot off in that ambiguous place between thought, action, and the shattered defaces of a moment.
...Two.
-) The Good: Designate WoodenWallaA as priority target; +10 damage and attack speed boost for shot chips directed at it
i-ii) Sniped: MarkCannon1 + Firehit1 (80+120 (for element), superior attack speed, increased accuracy)
-) Designate WoodenWallaB as priority target
iii) Dodge
iv) Shotgun WoodenWallaB, direct splash to BigBoomerEXC (60 + splash, superior attack speed)
2/6 bullets.
Yumland Research (EVENT!)
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Gungnir watched from behind the iron shell as the Molokos bore down on him, stampedeing fiercely and slamming into him with great force. He put up his hands and dropped his blades as it came, grabbing onto it's horns as it crashed into him in an attempt to fend it off. His struggle comes to little fruition, the sheep buckig and forcing him away, catching him in the stomach and sending him flying through the air. He tucked in the air, trying to turn, but only landing on his knees with the noise of a hammer hitting an anvil. His hands gripped the ground, and he pulled himself back up, coughing and splattering blood into his helmet as he stood. As he did, he saw to it that his retaliation was swift and brutal, but at the end, reeled slightly.
"Gungnir! Are you allright!?" Sieg said fiercely, woried as he saw red drizzle from his navis mask. But Gungnir put his hand up for a moment, the chains around his arms crinkling as he said,
'Yes, I'm fine. It is as I thought, these virii also pack a heavier hit as well as a greater stamina. But I am fine, not a worry,' he said as he looked at the wallas turning about to return the attacks, 'They will die in a short time' As he spoke, he gripped the gleipnir, pulling the blades back to his hands with quick jerks as he took an offensive stance. Sieg smiled widely, almost insanely, at the ferocity of his navi as he pulled another chip pair from his folder and slammed them in.
"Then these will be your tools! Boomerangs slot in, download!" he shouted out loud, the chips each claking into the PET and popping back into his hand.
The data flowed into Gungnir as he stood there, either arm tensing from the influx as he directed them. Deep green auras snaked over the chains on his arms, creeping towards the blades in either one of his hands. He flexed his fingers, feeling the woody luminesce encase the blades as he put them to his sides, preparing his onslaught.
He ran forwards, his arms staying affixed at his sides as he neared the stalwart wallas. Their lowing was dwarfed by his tremorous footfalls as he spun the blades in either hand, green discs of energy now held at a length from his body as he moved. He twisted on the ground, armor protestign at the pose, and curled forwards, flinging either disc of energy and metal. He swung them in the air, loosing the chains farther, and bringing them behind him. As he did this, he reailzed that other blasts of fire and energy were blasting past him, assuredly from the twin snipers of the group. The field before him was set aglow in flames as he grunted tremendously, pulling on the chains, and sending each spinning energy disc arcing through the enemies awash in fire. The flames flew around for a moment as each blade sheared through the locale of the enemies, arcing high and spinning in the air directly above him.
Gungnir however, was not one to take unnesacary risks. He would see that this would be the end of the foolish viruses once and for all. He pulled down on the chains, bringing the whirling blades down at the ground fiercely. The blades slowly shifted colors, changing to a shearing blue and forming crystals on them as the spun downwards. Each blade slammed into the earth before him, jamming into it and premafrosting the earth around them. Twin lines of frost and ice shot into the flames, and a moment later, two frozen testaments shot from the earth amidst the flames. The spires jutted straight upwards, seemign to slice the sky itself as they rose. He gripped the blades before him, yanking them forceably from the ground as he stood up, looking to the battlefield before him with a foreign sense inside of him.
'Sieg, what is this I feel? This, strange feeling...'
"I'm betting that it's pride, Gungnir"
ACTIONS
Boomerang, BigBoomerEXC/WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 60dmg
Boomerang, BigBoomerEXC/WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 60dmg
Fenrir, WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 70dmg
Dodge
"Gungnir! Are you allright!?" Sieg said fiercely, woried as he saw red drizzle from his navis mask. But Gungnir put his hand up for a moment, the chains around his arms crinkling as he said,
'Yes, I'm fine. It is as I thought, these virii also pack a heavier hit as well as a greater stamina. But I am fine, not a worry,' he said as he looked at the wallas turning about to return the attacks, 'They will die in a short time' As he spoke, he gripped the gleipnir, pulling the blades back to his hands with quick jerks as he took an offensive stance. Sieg smiled widely, almost insanely, at the ferocity of his navi as he pulled another chip pair from his folder and slammed them in.
"Then these will be your tools! Boomerangs slot in, download!" he shouted out loud, the chips each claking into the PET and popping back into his hand.
The data flowed into Gungnir as he stood there, either arm tensing from the influx as he directed them. Deep green auras snaked over the chains on his arms, creeping towards the blades in either one of his hands. He flexed his fingers, feeling the woody luminesce encase the blades as he put them to his sides, preparing his onslaught.
He ran forwards, his arms staying affixed at his sides as he neared the stalwart wallas. Their lowing was dwarfed by his tremorous footfalls as he spun the blades in either hand, green discs of energy now held at a length from his body as he moved. He twisted on the ground, armor protestign at the pose, and curled forwards, flinging either disc of energy and metal. He swung them in the air, loosing the chains farther, and bringing them behind him. As he did this, he reailzed that other blasts of fire and energy were blasting past him, assuredly from the twin snipers of the group. The field before him was set aglow in flames as he grunted tremendously, pulling on the chains, and sending each spinning energy disc arcing through the enemies awash in fire. The flames flew around for a moment as each blade sheared through the locale of the enemies, arcing high and spinning in the air directly above him.
Gungnir however, was not one to take unnesacary risks. He would see that this would be the end of the foolish viruses once and for all. He pulled down on the chains, bringing the whirling blades down at the ground fiercely. The blades slowly shifted colors, changing to a shearing blue and forming crystals on them as the spun downwards. Each blade slammed into the earth before him, jamming into it and premafrosting the earth around them. Twin lines of frost and ice shot into the flames, and a moment later, two frozen testaments shot from the earth amidst the flames. The spires jutted straight upwards, seemign to slice the sky itself as they rose. He gripped the blades before him, yanking them forceably from the ground as he stood up, looking to the battlefield before him with a foreign sense inside of him.
'Sieg, what is this I feel? This, strange feeling...'
"I'm betting that it's pride, Gungnir"
ACTIONS
Boomerang, BigBoomerEXC/WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 60dmg
Boomerang, BigBoomerEXC/WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 60dmg
Fenrir, WoodenWallaA/WoodenWallaB 70dmg
Dodge
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Perhaps because he's acting as a healer, perhaps because his reactions are quicker than he thinks, but Count Edgar astonishingly moves before the viruses yet again, tending to the wounded.
The Wallas, however, sensing their opponents recovery, each fire a volley of tusk at the two recently healed navis, each managed to dodge a single tusk, but the other hits them painfully. The Boomer launches a projectile at Edgar, so as to stop this healing trend.
That however, is about all they'll get. Gunner finishes off the Boomer, and severely damages the Wallas with his flame attacks.
Triggerman is true to his name, and his extreme brand of accuracy finishes off both of the Wallas.
Gungir, having little to do since the viruses are dead, shrugs.
BigBoomerEXA: DELETED
BigBoomerEXB: DELETED
BigBoomerEXC: DELETED
WoodenWallaA: DELETED
WoodenWallaB: DELETED
MightyMolokoA: DELETED
MightyMolokoB: DELETED
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 10
TriggerMan.EXE: 50
VICTORY!
Rewards:
Gungir.EXE: 750 Zenny
Gunner.EXE: 700 Zenny
Count_Edgar.EXE: 600 Zenny
TriggerMan.EXE: 800 Zenny
In a deafening roar, startlingly close, a great depression in the netscape forms, massive chunks of wood cascading down the sides into a bowl like pit. If the Navis look all the way down the steep slope, they would see something moving at the bottom, as well as what appears to be the source of the jack out barrier.
The Wallas, however, sensing their opponents recovery, each fire a volley of tusk at the two recently healed navis, each managed to dodge a single tusk, but the other hits them painfully. The Boomer launches a projectile at Edgar, so as to stop this healing trend.
That however, is about all they'll get. Gunner finishes off the Boomer, and severely damages the Wallas with his flame attacks.
Triggerman is true to his name, and his extreme brand of accuracy finishes off both of the Wallas.
Gungir, having little to do since the viruses are dead, shrugs.
BigBoomerEXA: DELETED
BigBoomerEXB: DELETED
BigBoomerEXC: DELETED
WoodenWallaA: DELETED
WoodenWallaB: DELETED
MightyMolokoA: DELETED
MightyMolokoB: DELETED
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 10
TriggerMan.EXE: 50
VICTORY!
Rewards:
Gungir.EXE: 750 Zenny
Gunner.EXE: 700 Zenny
Count_Edgar.EXE: 600 Zenny
TriggerMan.EXE: 800 Zenny
In a deafening roar, startlingly close, a great depression in the netscape forms, massive chunks of wood cascading down the sides into a bowl like pit. If the Navis look all the way down the steep slope, they would see something moving at the bottom, as well as what appears to be the source of the jack out barrier.
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Gunner stood on the edge of the pit, starring at the barely visible form at its very center. Although his expression was blank, one could almost see his mind racing. He shook his head as if dismissing some false conclusion and turned to the Count, his face cold and serious.
"Count Edgar. Whatever's there at the bottom, it could easily finish you off in the state you're in. You should heal yourself for a change before we head down there..." He craned his neck to appraise the dour stranger. The wounds he had suffered didn't seem to affect him, but there was no mistaking the hue of blood decorating his garments. "... The mysterious stranger looks like he could use a pick-me-up as well, if you still have it in you."
"Count Edgar. Whatever's there at the bottom, it could easily finish you off in the state you're in. You should heal yourself for a change before we head down there..." He craned his neck to appraise the dour stranger. The wounds he had suffered didn't seem to affect him, but there was no mistaking the hue of blood decorating his garments. "... The mysterious stranger looks like he could use a pick-me-up as well, if you still have it in you."
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Gungnir reeled from the blast of fang, but as he stood up to continue the assault, he sawy that his virus foes had already fallen from his comrades. He tilted his head, looking kinda annoyed with his body language as he said,
'They took it all from me, didn't leave me anything...' But sieg hit the PET angrily and said,
"Thats angst, an emotion you'd REALLY not be getting too used to, there," as he shook Gungnirs PET more, rattling him a little. As Gungnir's veritable soul was shaken, he was dizzied and tilted a little,
'Allright! I'm sorry!" he said, laughing inwardly. He rather liked having emotions.
His little repitoire with Sieg was cut short as he felt a tremendous presence before him. The net before the group sank into the ground, as a dark hole on the plane of continueum. He could feel the darkness down there, how powerful it loomed. He could hear Sieg calling,
"Whatever's keeping you guys locked in, it's definately down there! We gotta go down there," but as he surveyed Gungnirs comrades, he took a second to say,
"But maybe they should get a little fixed-up first...Take a second Gungnir, you don't seem to be in any impending danger," Gungnir nodded and removed his helmet, letting his lank hair fall back around his ears and shaking it a little. He looked at Triggerman and then to Edgar, saying,
'It would seem that you two are the worst for the ware amongst us. We can take a moment to rest and restore. I must thank you both, Trigger for covering me as I charged in, and Edgar for healing me during the fray. I daresay you should turn that power back on yourself now' As he said this, a light smile graced his lips for a moment.
'They took it all from me, didn't leave me anything...' But sieg hit the PET angrily and said,
"Thats angst, an emotion you'd REALLY not be getting too used to, there," as he shook Gungnirs PET more, rattling him a little. As Gungnir's veritable soul was shaken, he was dizzied and tilted a little,
'Allright! I'm sorry!" he said, laughing inwardly. He rather liked having emotions.
His little repitoire with Sieg was cut short as he felt a tremendous presence before him. The net before the group sank into the ground, as a dark hole on the plane of continueum. He could feel the darkness down there, how powerful it loomed. He could hear Sieg calling,
"Whatever's keeping you guys locked in, it's definately down there! We gotta go down there," but as he surveyed Gungnirs comrades, he took a second to say,
"But maybe they should get a little fixed-up first...Take a second Gungnir, you don't seem to be in any impending danger," Gungnir nodded and removed his helmet, letting his lank hair fall back around his ears and shaking it a little. He looked at Triggerman and then to Edgar, saying,
'It would seem that you two are the worst for the ware amongst us. We can take a moment to rest and restore. I must thank you both, Trigger for covering me as I charged in, and Edgar for healing me during the fray. I daresay you should turn that power back on yourself now' As he said this, a light smile graced his lips for a moment.
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After hearing Gunner and Gungir say something that hints at the damage he took, Edgar shrugs his shoulders and sighs. "I've been trough worse, so don't worry about me." He then turns to trigger man and goes "Sorry that I forgot you were here, I'll remember to heal you if you take more damage." He turns to Gungir and says"I have a different plan then heading down to see what that is, and that is to get ready for it" and Edgar starts to float, then shoots up about 100 yards into the air. Trough out all of this, all of Edgar's wounds start to heal, due to his netop entering a subchip.
(Use energypack subchip)
(Use energypack subchip)
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The shadows were high cast and with the dead man's ceremony run aground, the smoke had cleared. The fallers had fallen and the graves had been dug, but Old Man Death's vultures had come to loom closer in spite of the bare field.
They were waiting for another sort of departed; their hell wrung silhouettes circled around the Slinger now, vaguely predator instincts carving the design of every lying movement. Their black wingspan seemed to equal the length of Triggerman's precarious thread of life, and Lady Luck threatened with the scissors.
Triggerman cast only a fleeting glance at the harbingers of misfortune; Death didn't like to be kept waiting but it was to hell with the scythe-man's impatience. They didn't have it in for another sucker just yet.
Ostensibly apathetic, Triggerman devoted his attention to the Count's demands anew. ...Three. Four. Five. Six. And with each new bullet, he reminded himself he could prolong the scissors with lead.
The slinger lowered his hat, keen on shutting out the raptors' deathly images.
"...I hope you fellows aren't handing in your resignations yet. I reckon the horse is just saddled," he barked dryly, a distinct grit rendered in his voice.
Junior's Giant and The Kid looked to be faring alright but the Fourth Wheel was looking like a casino hopper who'd been frisked one too many times.
"...Look sharp, kid," Triggerman grunted to Edgar, offhandedly. "...my boys up there are looking for an easy meal... and you're starting to look like one."
The Western Wind brought news of bad tidings across the horizon. Fallers yet.
They were waiting for another sort of departed; their hell wrung silhouettes circled around the Slinger now, vaguely predator instincts carving the design of every lying movement. Their black wingspan seemed to equal the length of Triggerman's precarious thread of life, and Lady Luck threatened with the scissors.
Triggerman cast only a fleeting glance at the harbingers of misfortune; Death didn't like to be kept waiting but it was to hell with the scythe-man's impatience. They didn't have it in for another sucker just yet.
Ostensibly apathetic, Triggerman devoted his attention to the Count's demands anew. ...Three. Four. Five. Six. And with each new bullet, he reminded himself he could prolong the scissors with lead.
The slinger lowered his hat, keen on shutting out the raptors' deathly images.
"...I hope you fellows aren't handing in your resignations yet. I reckon the horse is just saddled," he barked dryly, a distinct grit rendered in his voice.
Junior's Giant and The Kid looked to be faring alright but the Fourth Wheel was looking like a casino hopper who'd been frisked one too many times.
"...Look sharp, kid," Triggerman grunted to Edgar, offhandedly. "...my boys up there are looking for an easy meal... and you're starting to look like one."
The Western Wind brought news of bad tidings across the horizon. Fallers yet.
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Upon his take off into the skies, Edgar herd Triggerman's words. Edgar just chuckles, figuring that he called him that because of how badly he has done. Upon reaching the 100 yard mark of his flight, Edgar looks down, and sees the forest that they were in, the view was breath taking. Edgar points at the small target that is Triggerman, and a small light appears on his finger. Without anything said, the light jets downward at triggerman, and hits him right between the eyes. It dealt no damage, but Triggerman's wounds began to heal.
((Does a charge shot heal on triggerman for 36, I asked Steve if I could and he said yes.))
((Does a charge shot heal on triggerman for 36, I asked Steve if I could and he said yes.))
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Once the healing was over, a resounding roar echoed across the depression. A large consentration of brambles shook, and looming up on it's hind legs, a massive green and brown bear swung up, and, taking a good look at the Navi's, let out a roar of anguish. It's clear that this creature is responsible for the Jack-out barrier, as well as the slow proscessing speeds of the area. It all makes sense, this can only be the Cybeast of Wood, Kuman!
Kuman drops down on all fours, ready to fight.
Kuman: 4000
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 110
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
Kuman drops down on all fours, ready to fight.
Kuman: 4000
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 110
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
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100 Yards
The view of the forest from this height, in Edgar's eyes, is breath taking. The treetops, spreading in almost every direction, and even with the jack-out barrier, you could guess that they conteul on out of sight. His thoughts of the view changed to combat due to a defnent roar, coming from below. Edgar starts to till his head downward, his eyes scanning for the source of this.... Desbernce. When his eyes meet with where his allies are, he sees the source. He sees the great bear Kuman.
"What in the..." Edgar mouthed, knowing that his allies could not hear him from where he is at, and along with the high odds that none of his allies would even know what that is. Unfortunately, Edgar is too high to have a good shot if, no, when the battle starts. He needed to desend, and that is what Edgar does.
50 yards
This should be close enoft Edgar figures, since this is half the distance he was. Edgar then thinks about his arsenal; but unfortunately, all he knows is that he has a cannon, a shotgun, two minibombs, a wideshot, and a markcannon. He does not know what other chips his netop has, or even if they would be useful against.... well, the bear. At that same moment, a trade was completed. The data of the heatshot, the chip that was being traded for, went trough Edgar before being downloaded into a battlechip. However, Edgar had a different plan. He drew on the power of this chip, while it was channeling trough him, and Edgar's left arm begins to burn in white flames. Vladimir, for some reason slots in his heatshot and markcannon, and Edgar's other arm starts to burn in the same color flames as his other arm. He points both of his arms at the bear, and the flames move to his fingers, then in a massive burst shoot out at Kuman. Hidden in that giant white fireball is the unseen shot from the Markcannon chip.
((Summery
0Holy strength
1 heatshot 40+20 fire, 120 damage if Kuman is wood
2 heatshot 40+20 fire, 120 damage if Kuman is wood
3 Markcannon 70+20))
The view of the forest from this height, in Edgar's eyes, is breath taking. The treetops, spreading in almost every direction, and even with the jack-out barrier, you could guess that they conteul on out of sight. His thoughts of the view changed to combat due to a defnent roar, coming from below. Edgar starts to till his head downward, his eyes scanning for the source of this.... Desbernce. When his eyes meet with where his allies are, he sees the source. He sees the great bear Kuman.
"What in the..." Edgar mouthed, knowing that his allies could not hear him from where he is at, and along with the high odds that none of his allies would even know what that is. Unfortunately, Edgar is too high to have a good shot if, no, when the battle starts. He needed to desend, and that is what Edgar does.
50 yards
This should be close enoft Edgar figures, since this is half the distance he was. Edgar then thinks about his arsenal; but unfortunately, all he knows is that he has a cannon, a shotgun, two minibombs, a wideshot, and a markcannon. He does not know what other chips his netop has, or even if they would be useful against.... well, the bear. At that same moment, a trade was completed. The data of the heatshot, the chip that was being traded for, went trough Edgar before being downloaded into a battlechip. However, Edgar had a different plan. He drew on the power of this chip, while it was channeling trough him, and Edgar's left arm begins to burn in white flames. Vladimir, for some reason slots in his heatshot and markcannon, and Edgar's other arm starts to burn in the same color flames as his other arm. He points both of his arms at the bear, and the flames move to his fingers, then in a massive burst shoot out at Kuman. Hidden in that giant white fireball is the unseen shot from the Markcannon chip.
((Summery
0Holy strength
1 heatshot 40+20 fire, 120 damage if Kuman is wood
2 heatshot 40+20 fire, 120 damage if Kuman is wood
3 Markcannon 70+20))
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((Battle music, anyone...? :3))
"So, this is it... Heh heh. This is the reason for all our trouble." Gunner let out another short laugh, holding one gloved hand out in front of his eyes. "Now, say cheese." His gloved index finger was depressed for a brief moment, cuing the sound of a shutter doing what it did best. "Swift, you got that pic?" He called. Swift was surprisingly mute.
"... Something's not right here."
"Swift!" The navi called again.
"Oh, yeah. I got it. I'm sending you some fire chips." Swift seemed to be preoccupied with something.
"Alright!" He could already feel the stream of data flowing through his consciousness. He wanted to do something flashy, and he had a good idea of what. He gently collected the three pieces of data in his mind, letting them sink into his programming. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his boots caught fire. However, it disn't appear to be hurting its victim at all; in fact, the fire seemed to be entirely benign. He was using the fire trinity.
He slowly strode towards the hulking figure of the bear-monster, his steps leaving smoldering footprints in the undergrowth. As he neared, he suddenly shot into the air, his powerful legs carrying him near face level with the monster, leaving a trail of fire behind him. He was able to deliver two kicks; one, a crescent kick on his way up that missed its mark but sent a crescent-shaped mass of flame at the beast anyway. The other, a flaming dropkick on his way down. Although then it seemed his attack was over and done, he had another surprise in store for the beastie. The navi had always made his landings silent and graceful, a necessity in his line of work. However, as he neared the ground he thrust his legs out, dealing the Net floor a double kick that might have been devastating to anything that lived. However, that was not the end of it. The flames on his boots grew and separated from their host, running along the ground in a semi-halo wall of fire directed at the unfortunate beast. He was unfortunately close to the unfortunate monstrocity now, though. How unfortunate. He reminded himself to keep his wits about him in case the monster did something devastating.
"I don't get it... It sounded... Sad. No, desperate. Like it's in pain. And here we are, adding to its misery." Swift sat cross-legged, anxiously chewing on a thumbnail. "There has to be something else to this. Unless these things just appeared in the Net a day ago, something's driving them out." He gave up on his nervous manicure, instead turning his attention to the chips in his hand. "Nothing else to do, though, but knock the poor beast senseless." One bore a stylized sticker of a starfish blowing bubbles, another a cute rabbit fashioned from an electrical plug, and the third a robotic locust of sorts. Coupled with Gunner's innate abilities, this might just work... As soon as they ran out of Fire chips, he resolved.
---------------
1. Heatshot (40, Fire, [A]) Kuman
2. Firehit1 (60, Fire, [A]) Kuman
3. Flameline1 (70, Fire, [A]) Kuman
4. Dodge
"So, this is it... Heh heh. This is the reason for all our trouble." Gunner let out another short laugh, holding one gloved hand out in front of his eyes. "Now, say cheese." His gloved index finger was depressed for a brief moment, cuing the sound of a shutter doing what it did best. "Swift, you got that pic?" He called. Swift was surprisingly mute.
"... Something's not right here."
"Swift!" The navi called again.
"Oh, yeah. I got it. I'm sending you some fire chips." Swift seemed to be preoccupied with something.
"Alright!" He could already feel the stream of data flowing through his consciousness. He wanted to do something flashy, and he had a good idea of what. He gently collected the three pieces of data in his mind, letting them sink into his programming. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his boots caught fire. However, it disn't appear to be hurting its victim at all; in fact, the fire seemed to be entirely benign. He was using the fire trinity.
He slowly strode towards the hulking figure of the bear-monster, his steps leaving smoldering footprints in the undergrowth. As he neared, he suddenly shot into the air, his powerful legs carrying him near face level with the monster, leaving a trail of fire behind him. He was able to deliver two kicks; one, a crescent kick on his way up that missed its mark but sent a crescent-shaped mass of flame at the beast anyway. The other, a flaming dropkick on his way down. Although then it seemed his attack was over and done, he had another surprise in store for the beastie. The navi had always made his landings silent and graceful, a necessity in his line of work. However, as he neared the ground he thrust his legs out, dealing the Net floor a double kick that might have been devastating to anything that lived. However, that was not the end of it. The flames on his boots grew and separated from their host, running along the ground in a semi-halo wall of fire directed at the unfortunate beast. He was unfortunately close to the unfortunate monstrocity now, though. How unfortunate. He reminded himself to keep his wits about him in case the monster did something devastating.
"I don't get it... It sounded... Sad. No, desperate. Like it's in pain. And here we are, adding to its misery." Swift sat cross-legged, anxiously chewing on a thumbnail. "There has to be something else to this. Unless these things just appeared in the Net a day ago, something's driving them out." He gave up on his nervous manicure, instead turning his attention to the chips in his hand. "Nothing else to do, though, but knock the poor beast senseless." One bore a stylized sticker of a starfish blowing bubbles, another a cute rabbit fashioned from an electrical plug, and the third a robotic locust of sorts. Coupled with Gunner's innate abilities, this might just work... As soon as they ran out of Fire chips, he resolved.
---------------
1. Heatshot (40, Fire, [A]) Kuman
2. Firehit1 (60, Fire, [A]) Kuman
3. Flameline1 (70, Fire, [A]) Kuman
4. Dodge
last edited by
...The raptors had been right, and Triggerman didn't blame their red appetites now.
If they ever had a reason to loom, now was a hell of a one. The black-eyed carcass dwellers lingered nigh in stark circles of ominous dynamics; their shadows were the reminder against those we dared to depart.
Ahead was both the accused and the sentencer; his crime was playing judge when he should've been in the chair.
Kuman.
Triggerman had seen the videos, had read the sad eyed descriptions, but Old Smokey was lacking in the flesh, like the real deal juxtaposed against an unfortunately doctored whore ad.
The ace of spades had shown; the Old Maid was in play, and it was too bad, because the Dame had just begun to reveal the nature of her hand. Thricefolding the damned to a repentance wrought cold, she was there with the bloody dice at the ready. She was still prostituting her favor to the bigger bidder, and the price just kept getting higher.
Triggerman wasn't interested in affording the Dame; like a convention of the Slinger's art, the Count began to the fanfare of the Reaper Man's bated breath. The Old Man Death wasn't picking no sides; he just wanted a body or two to haul on back.
...Six.
"...anti-climactic. An oversized grizzly with a message to convey about recycling... Old Smokey," Triggerman spat gruffly.
"...I figure you can give the-son-of-a-bitch a forest fire?" Marlowe jibbed darkly, tone stained in the grit of cigarette ash. "...Hell, I think I need a new smoke just for this."
"You don't skip breakfast, old man.... lead comes first."
The big bullets didn't come first; the killing guns were reserved for the end game when the sun was high and the smoke thick. Kuman had yet to show his dukes, and he needed some prodding.
Triggerman flung his poncho to his side, announcing his dirtied defiance to the Lady's whim; the lax garment gave way to the gun's steely image, and the whole entourage of bullets that followed. The whole family of casings had it in for only one bastard this time, and if they ever knew how to make disturbance, they right as hell did now.
...Too bad for the ugly mug, the Slinger thought dryly. ...Poor son of a gun probably don't know any better.
He drew with a rugged methodology; he pulled the cold companion with the deadly eye and the body in sight. The hammer came down like the next step in Death's pale procedure.
In the pause between thought and inaction, he lowered his hat. The fellers around him had proceeded with the broken ceremony, but he waited, and it seemed Junior's Giant thought the same.
At an instant, he shattered the pause that had preceded him, firing off a shot that cried foul intentions; shrapnel flew, and their war cry marred the Lucky whore's virgin ears.
The buzzards fled, but they were the wiser to know no body had dropped. There was the desecrated fraction of the moment to rest upon until the slinger fired the next round.
The smoke grew thick as the damn Watchers' anticipation coagulated. It was congealed with the smell of gunpowder and the Lady's raunch perfume.
He knew Smokey wasn't falling fast, but he'd fall. He was plenty big enough; plenty of noise to make when he fell with the emaciated torso.
...four.
-)The Good: Designate Kuman as The Target; +10 on all gun chips, stackable, superior attack speed
i)Snipe: Vulcan 1 (20x3)
ii)Dodge
iii)Vulcan 1 (20x3)
Count: 4/6
If they ever had a reason to loom, now was a hell of a one. The black-eyed carcass dwellers lingered nigh in stark circles of ominous dynamics; their shadows were the reminder against those we dared to depart.
Ahead was both the accused and the sentencer; his crime was playing judge when he should've been in the chair.
Kuman.
Triggerman had seen the videos, had read the sad eyed descriptions, but Old Smokey was lacking in the flesh, like the real deal juxtaposed against an unfortunately doctored whore ad.
The ace of spades had shown; the Old Maid was in play, and it was too bad, because the Dame had just begun to reveal the nature of her hand. Thricefolding the damned to a repentance wrought cold, she was there with the bloody dice at the ready. She was still prostituting her favor to the bigger bidder, and the price just kept getting higher.
Triggerman wasn't interested in affording the Dame; like a convention of the Slinger's art, the Count began to the fanfare of the Reaper Man's bated breath. The Old Man Death wasn't picking no sides; he just wanted a body or two to haul on back.
...Six.
"...anti-climactic. An oversized grizzly with a message to convey about recycling... Old Smokey," Triggerman spat gruffly.
"...I figure you can give the-son-of-a-bitch a forest fire?" Marlowe jibbed darkly, tone stained in the grit of cigarette ash. "...Hell, I think I need a new smoke just for this."
"You don't skip breakfast, old man.... lead comes first."
The big bullets didn't come first; the killing guns were reserved for the end game when the sun was high and the smoke thick. Kuman had yet to show his dukes, and he needed some prodding.
Triggerman flung his poncho to his side, announcing his dirtied defiance to the Lady's whim; the lax garment gave way to the gun's steely image, and the whole entourage of bullets that followed. The whole family of casings had it in for only one bastard this time, and if they ever knew how to make disturbance, they right as hell did now.
...Too bad for the ugly mug, the Slinger thought dryly. ...Poor son of a gun probably don't know any better.
He drew with a rugged methodology; he pulled the cold companion with the deadly eye and the body in sight. The hammer came down like the next step in Death's pale procedure.
In the pause between thought and inaction, he lowered his hat. The fellers around him had proceeded with the broken ceremony, but he waited, and it seemed Junior's Giant thought the same.
At an instant, he shattered the pause that had preceded him, firing off a shot that cried foul intentions; shrapnel flew, and their war cry marred the Lucky whore's virgin ears.
The buzzards fled, but they were the wiser to know no body had dropped. There was the desecrated fraction of the moment to rest upon until the slinger fired the next round.
The smoke grew thick as the damn Watchers' anticipation coagulated. It was congealed with the smell of gunpowder and the Lady's raunch perfume.
He knew Smokey wasn't falling fast, but he'd fall. He was plenty big enough; plenty of noise to make when he fell with the emaciated torso.
...four.
-)The Good: Designate Kuman as The Target; +10 on all gun chips, stackable, superior attack speed
i)Snipe: Vulcan 1 (20x3)
ii)Dodge
iii)Vulcan 1 (20x3)
Count: 4/6
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The Navis all explode into action, as Kuman drops down, ready for incoming assault.
Count Edgar, taking a chance to attack rather than heal, lets loose a mighty torrent of fire down on the giant bear. Kuman, however, was ready, and with one swipe of one of his huge paws, bats Edgar away from him, sending him flying.
Gunner, too, makes out like a bandit, firing firey shot after fiery shot at the Cybeast of Wood, dealing severe amounts of damage to him. The smell of smoke and burning wood begin to fill the little depression as Kuman burns.
TriggerMan keeps his distance and starts sniping into the fray. Six distint thunking sounds are heard, each a bullet lodging into the beast's side.
Gungir dodges.
Then Kuman does something strange. He rears up onto his hind legs again, and holds his front paws up in the air. As he comes crashing back down, a small explosion of growth appear around him, quickly spreading outwards past the Navis'. Looking down, the navi's see tiny vines trying to hold them in place. They really aren't doing much, but everything seems to slow down! These weeds must be how Kuman slows down the network!
Kuman: 3210
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 70
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
Special: Kuman Minor Netdrain in effect! -1 Speed for everyone for the next two rounds!
Count Edgar, taking a chance to attack rather than heal, lets loose a mighty torrent of fire down on the giant bear. Kuman, however, was ready, and with one swipe of one of his huge paws, bats Edgar away from him, sending him flying.
Gunner, too, makes out like a bandit, firing firey shot after fiery shot at the Cybeast of Wood, dealing severe amounts of damage to him. The smell of smoke and burning wood begin to fill the little depression as Kuman burns.
TriggerMan keeps his distance and starts sniping into the fray. Six distint thunking sounds are heard, each a bullet lodging into the beast's side.
Gungir dodges.
Then Kuman does something strange. He rears up onto his hind legs again, and holds his front paws up in the air. As he comes crashing back down, a small explosion of growth appear around him, quickly spreading outwards past the Navis'. Looking down, the navi's see tiny vines trying to hold them in place. They really aren't doing much, but everything seems to slow down! These weeds must be how Kuman slows down the network!
Kuman: 3210
Gungir.EXE: 95
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 70
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
Special: Kuman Minor Netdrain in effect! -1 Speed for everyone for the next two rounds!
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Gunner stumbled for an instantbefore catching himself. He felt slow and sluggish, like someone had pulled a plug and all his energy was draining out onto the hungry undergrowth below. He cast a glance around. The Count, whose flightpath had taken an unexpected twist courtesy of the bear's overgrown paw, was not too far away. He looked about ready to drop out of the sky, though. Gungnir, a couple paces behind the charred tracks left by the first wave of attacks, seemed to be studying the beast's movements and looking for an opening in which to strike. His devotion had certainly helped him avoid a faceful of claw. He, too, looked a little languid, though. Finally, the Man Without a Name. He stood a sensible distance from the monster, his dour expression betraying nothing. Surely he, too, had to feel the effects of the beast's vines; but if he did, he didn't show it.
Swift hadn't sent chips yet; only one thing to do. He planted his feet a sturdy shoulder-length apart and closed his eyes. Somewhere within him, there lay some smal remnants of the power he had once held; Swift had explained that much. All he had to do was --
He had it.
His eyes flew open and he shot a baleful glare into the beast's cold eyes. An intricate red pattern of lines spread for an instant across his irises and briefly shone through the cloth gloves covering his palms. It wasn't a lightshow like he had come to expect, but it was effective all the same.
Swift passively set the mechanical locust's chip beside him. He wouldn't need that yet. Instead, there slid the starfish and the rabbit into the device, to pop out an instant later having delivered their dangerous payload. This attack wouldn't be so much devastating as debilitating; Gunner had already used his power to hamper the beast's mobility, and the two chips he had just recieved would aid that cause. If anything, it would buy them some time.
Back in the Net, Gunner had yet to draw his pistol. As the chip data gently streamed through his consciousness, he knew he wouldn't have to, either. He thrust his arm forward, palm open, to begin the attack. He took careful consideration before bringing the chip to life... He knew this chip to be somewhat powerful, but irritatingly slow. The beast's position, wind patterns, timing... It was the gunner's age-old dillema, magnified hundredfold by the absence of the quick, heavy, decisive bullet and the introduction of its lazy, bumbling counterpat, the bubble. A light transparent film dancing with pastels colors grew from a point maybe an inch from his outstretched palm. The disk bowed outwards, growing into a dome and finally a sphere which lazily glided to the beast's form, growing in size as it staggered through the humid air. Three more followed suit. The bubbles seemed about as accurate and as deadly as his thumb, were he to forcefully fling it an an enemy, but he hoped that in the monster's immobile state it would be hard pressed to dodge. Next came the chip that would drive the tiny tactic home. Golden light spilled from his fingertips. A flick of the wrist in a circular motion turned the disjointed dots of light into a solid halo, crackling with pent-up potential as it rested harmlessly in his grip. He made a slight forward motion with his palm, though, and the tranquil chakram shot at the monster at an unimaginable pace. It felt as if his feet had taken root in the rick soil of the depression, but he knew that with luck he wouldn't need to do much moving anyway.
---------------
1. Hawkeye (5 damage per round, 2-action stun) Kuman
1.5: Snipe - Add to BblStar1's accuracy
2. BblStar1 (20x3, Aqua, [D]) Kuman
3. Zapring1 (40, Elec, [A]) Kuman
4.
Swift hadn't sent chips yet; only one thing to do. He planted his feet a sturdy shoulder-length apart and closed his eyes. Somewhere within him, there lay some smal remnants of the power he had once held; Swift had explained that much. All he had to do was --
He had it.
His eyes flew open and he shot a baleful glare into the beast's cold eyes. An intricate red pattern of lines spread for an instant across his irises and briefly shone through the cloth gloves covering his palms. It wasn't a lightshow like he had come to expect, but it was effective all the same.
Swift passively set the mechanical locust's chip beside him. He wouldn't need that yet. Instead, there slid the starfish and the rabbit into the device, to pop out an instant later having delivered their dangerous payload. This attack wouldn't be so much devastating as debilitating; Gunner had already used his power to hamper the beast's mobility, and the two chips he had just recieved would aid that cause. If anything, it would buy them some time.
Back in the Net, Gunner had yet to draw his pistol. As the chip data gently streamed through his consciousness, he knew he wouldn't have to, either. He thrust his arm forward, palm open, to begin the attack. He took careful consideration before bringing the chip to life... He knew this chip to be somewhat powerful, but irritatingly slow. The beast's position, wind patterns, timing... It was the gunner's age-old dillema, magnified hundredfold by the absence of the quick, heavy, decisive bullet and the introduction of its lazy, bumbling counterpat, the bubble. A light transparent film dancing with pastels colors grew from a point maybe an inch from his outstretched palm. The disk bowed outwards, growing into a dome and finally a sphere which lazily glided to the beast's form, growing in size as it staggered through the humid air. Three more followed suit. The bubbles seemed about as accurate and as deadly as his thumb, were he to forcefully fling it an an enemy, but he hoped that in the monster's immobile state it would be hard pressed to dodge. Next came the chip that would drive the tiny tactic home. Golden light spilled from his fingertips. A flick of the wrist in a circular motion turned the disjointed dots of light into a solid halo, crackling with pent-up potential as it rested harmlessly in his grip. He made a slight forward motion with his palm, though, and the tranquil chakram shot at the monster at an unimaginable pace. It felt as if his feet had taken root in the rick soil of the depression, but he knew that with luck he wouldn't need to do much moving anyway.
---------------
1. Hawkeye (5 damage per round, 2-action stun) Kuman
1.5: Snipe - Add to BblStar1's accuracy
2. BblStar1 (20x3, Aqua, [D]) Kuman
3. Zapring1 (40, Elec, [A]) Kuman
last edited by
The force of the attack causes Edgar to fly backwards a good distance. He stables his flight, and begins to take in the situation. Things seem to start to run more sluggish when Kuman created more weeds, even from where he is at it affected him. Edgar realizes that charging the bear would be stupid after getting knocked back from one hit.... But even with that knowledge he flies straight at the beast. A globe of red forms around Edgars right arm, and changes into a massive lance, and in a few moments it is about to slam right into Kuman's side.
((1 blood pummel 60 break
2 dodge))
((1 blood pummel 60 break
2 dodge))
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As the last lead found its way to the carcass to be, the Western Wind bore an unkind development to the Slinger. It took a cold pause, and in its absence the sound of the Dame toying the deadly dice was audible. The gale was quelled, tamed like the lion demoted to ration reaping from the hands of some ten an hour bastard.
Kuman was a large enough feller, and it'd have be swell if Old Smokey could've been caged too, because he was getting more than his share now.
Clearly the Dame was enjoying it, because bullet- be-damned she was making a farce out of it. They were all her puppet show and her dice the remote control, remorselessly mashing the slow button because she wanted to hold onto every bloody second.
The Lady was ever so damn delighted, but Old Man Death wasn't pleased with it; the thick procession of time was delaying the body dropping that the Hooded Bastard so demanded... the Hellfire was just pithy kindling now.
And for once, Triggerman was in to appease the Hooded Bastard. It was a good tiding now; for once, the Reaper and Dame weren't under the same sheets.
"...you can slow a bullet, but you can't slow an intention that come from the same gun, Smokey," he muttered hoarsely.
He could feel himself slow enough; not the same kind of slow that made the jealous lover hold the trigger for a second, but the Arctic that bit the aim.
"...yeah, you'll get your body, you son of a bitch."
...Four. With a coagulated agility, he recocked the hammer. It's pale note held onto the air for a moment longer, resonating its forboding tune against the slow drama.
The Slinger glanced at the other three; they'd seen the easier days, but now they were all painfully waltzing to the Lady's strings.
She was taking her time.
At a moment's notice, Triggerman had the instruments he needed. Poncho swaying slowly in obedient fashion, he threw a brazen fist through the air, smoking hand alight with the hint of some Hades. In a brief plume of flame, the fleeting image of an emblazoned rider cast itself towards Kuman; the passing echo of both neigh hoof fall were dim amidst the slow, but the hell rider seemed unfazed. They wanted their time; they wanted to trample his behemoth body beneath their hell borne saddles like any other faller. They wanted to introduce the beast to a Purgatory, subject him to the Mephisto's prongs like any other dweller.
They wanted to ride.
...I guess they can't keep quiet for long. But the black tide hadn't come for their dawn yet. He'd scare that Lady off soon enough.
The slinger raised his peacemaker to eye level, with the keen eye to announce the intention. Kuman's large frame fell behind the barrel's profile; it was the kind of shot that only the young and the restless didn't make. Single eyed, index finger drew on apace to the keys to the cage.
The vultures' shadows swept over Kuman, then bled their black coats across Triggerman's poncho in kind. They'd placed their bets, but they were impartial to the Faller; their wide gyre encompassed every standing fool.
Triggerman pulled the heated trigger.
///////////
-)Kuman is The Target; +10 stackable on all gun chips, superior attack speed
-)Attach The Ugly:, Blind Effect to Sniped PhoenixShot
1) FireHit1 (120)
2) Snipe: PhoenixShot (200, superior speed and accuracy, one turn blind)
3) Dodge
4)--
Kuman was a large enough feller, and it'd have be swell if Old Smokey could've been caged too, because he was getting more than his share now.
Clearly the Dame was enjoying it, because bullet- be-damned she was making a farce out of it. They were all her puppet show and her dice the remote control, remorselessly mashing the slow button because she wanted to hold onto every bloody second.
The Lady was ever so damn delighted, but Old Man Death wasn't pleased with it; the thick procession of time was delaying the body dropping that the Hooded Bastard so demanded... the Hellfire was just pithy kindling now.
And for once, Triggerman was in to appease the Hooded Bastard. It was a good tiding now; for once, the Reaper and Dame weren't under the same sheets.
"...you can slow a bullet, but you can't slow an intention that come from the same gun, Smokey," he muttered hoarsely.
He could feel himself slow enough; not the same kind of slow that made the jealous lover hold the trigger for a second, but the Arctic that bit the aim.
"...yeah, you'll get your body, you son of a bitch."
...Four. With a coagulated agility, he recocked the hammer. It's pale note held onto the air for a moment longer, resonating its forboding tune against the slow drama.
The Slinger glanced at the other three; they'd seen the easier days, but now they were all painfully waltzing to the Lady's strings.
She was taking her time.
At a moment's notice, Triggerman had the instruments he needed. Poncho swaying slowly in obedient fashion, he threw a brazen fist through the air, smoking hand alight with the hint of some Hades. In a brief plume of flame, the fleeting image of an emblazoned rider cast itself towards Kuman; the passing echo of both neigh hoof fall were dim amidst the slow, but the hell rider seemed unfazed. They wanted their time; they wanted to trample his behemoth body beneath their hell borne saddles like any other faller. They wanted to introduce the beast to a Purgatory, subject him to the Mephisto's prongs like any other dweller.
They wanted to ride.
...I guess they can't keep quiet for long. But the black tide hadn't come for their dawn yet. He'd scare that Lady off soon enough.
The slinger raised his peacemaker to eye level, with the keen eye to announce the intention. Kuman's large frame fell behind the barrel's profile; it was the kind of shot that only the young and the restless didn't make. Single eyed, index finger drew on apace to the keys to the cage.
The vultures' shadows swept over Kuman, then bled their black coats across Triggerman's poncho in kind. They'd placed their bets, but they were impartial to the Faller; their wide gyre encompassed every standing fool.
Triggerman pulled the heated trigger.
///////////
-)Kuman is The Target; +10 stackable on all gun chips, superior attack speed
-)Attach The Ugly:, Blind Effect to Sniped PhoenixShot
1) FireHit1 (120)
2) Snipe: PhoenixShot (200, superior speed and accuracy, one turn blind)
3) Dodge
4)--
last edited by
Kuman leads the action with a mighty rake across Gungir's chest, sprawling him out on the ground. With a roar, he turns to the other Navi's, ready to bat each of them away.
Gunner, taking the opportunity, starts shooting like crazy at the giant bear. All of the attacks land, but Kuman shrugs off the stun like it wasn't there. It'll take more than a little stunning to pacify a Cybeast!
Edgar pummels Kuman with his blood. Gross.
Triggerman hits Kuman with a firey fist, but the true damage comes from the mighty PhoenixShot, it scorches Kuman square in the face, the cinders and embers getting into his eyes, temporarily blinding him!
Gungir stands there.
Kuman: 2525
Gungir.EXE: 55
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 70
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
Special: Kuman Minor Netdrain in effect! -1 Speed for everyone for the next round.
Special: Kuman is Blinded! His single target attacks have a higher chance of missing.
Gunner, taking the opportunity, starts shooting like crazy at the giant bear. All of the attacks land, but Kuman shrugs off the stun like it wasn't there. It'll take more than a little stunning to pacify a Cybeast!
Edgar pummels Kuman with his blood. Gross.
Triggerman hits Kuman with a firey fist, but the true damage comes from the mighty PhoenixShot, it scorches Kuman square in the face, the cinders and embers getting into his eyes, temporarily blinding him!
Gungir stands there.
Kuman: 2525
Gungir.EXE: 55
Gunner.EXE: 80
Count_Edgar.EXE: 70
TriggerMan.EXE: 86
Special: Kuman Minor Netdrain in effect! -1 Speed for everyone for the next round.
Special: Kuman is Blinded! His single target attacks have a higher chance of missing.
last edited by
"Gungnir! Get off your ass and fight, or this guy's gonna end up ripping you to shreds!" His expression was ferocious as he called to the armored navi. Before now, his inactivity might have been rooted in tactics, finding out more about the enemy before rushing headlong into the fray. Gunner wasn't about to try understanding what was going through the sworrdsman's head at this moment, but the fact remained that he was doing nothing, not even avoiding the bear's attacks. If he continued on like that, it might be lethal for both him and the rest of the team... They would start to run out of chips before long.
Might as well use all they had, and be strategic about it.
Water began to pool around Gunner's boots, seemingly for no reason. Instead of being absorbed into the peat and hungry undergrowth, though, it defiantly remained aboveground. Gunner, who was wrist-deep in the Holster by now, gave a mighty heave and produced an old friend.
A supposedly immobile gatling gun turret. It hit the pooled water with a mighty splash that only seemed to radiate in a narrow wave out at the great bear, its volume impossibly increasing as it frothed. It broke, sweeping over the bear's legs. A seemingly harmless event, but one that was in reality quite deadly due to te Wideshot chip that permeated the surf. And that was just the gun's splashdown.
Gunner trained the heavy turret's sights on the beast's left foreleg. It had seemed to shrug the effects of his Hawkeye off like a second skin... Anything he was going to try would have to be much more tangible if it was to work. He was, after all, dealing with a beast of legend. Legend, at least, among the same Net enthusiasts that thought it a good idea to invent slang names for most of the world's more promiinent countries, names which had even permeated the official system in a desperate gambit to boost the government's popularity. They weren't quite so legendary to the lay person on the street, but formidable for their existence alone. The crosshairs mounted above the contraption's many mighty barrels merrily ceneted on the beast's leg, and Gunner pulled the trigger once before he started the machine spinning, possibly because the satisfying click produced not a rain of hot lead but a concentrated bullet of water that really wouldn't do so well split into a fine spritz at the hands of the gun's spin. The next click, inaudible under the machine's frantic whirr, heralded the cacophony of fire, air, and lead that a weapon of its caliber so richly deserved. The machine's operator nearly cackled with glee, although such an outburst would be muted anyway by the wonderful rhythmic discord of the gatling turret. After about fifty or so rounds had been expelled, the machine's whirr slowed and finally stopped, the machine itself rapidly reducing itself to white light before that, too, dissapeared. Gunner smiled. He hadn't really needed to split a Shotgun into that superfluous display, but thankfully he didn't need an excuse to do something like that so long as it still served its purpose.
---------------
0.5. Snipe - Increase Wideshot's accuracy
1. Wideshot (80, [A], Aqua) Kuman's legs
2. Bubbler (50, [A], Aqua) Kuman's legs
3. Shotgun (50, [A]) Kuman's legs
Might as well use all they had, and be strategic about it.
Water began to pool around Gunner's boots, seemingly for no reason. Instead of being absorbed into the peat and hungry undergrowth, though, it defiantly remained aboveground. Gunner, who was wrist-deep in the Holster by now, gave a mighty heave and produced an old friend.
A supposedly immobile gatling gun turret. It hit the pooled water with a mighty splash that only seemed to radiate in a narrow wave out at the great bear, its volume impossibly increasing as it frothed. It broke, sweeping over the bear's legs. A seemingly harmless event, but one that was in reality quite deadly due to te Wideshot chip that permeated the surf. And that was just the gun's splashdown.
Gunner trained the heavy turret's sights on the beast's left foreleg. It had seemed to shrug the effects of his Hawkeye off like a second skin... Anything he was going to try would have to be much more tangible if it was to work. He was, after all, dealing with a beast of legend. Legend, at least, among the same Net enthusiasts that thought it a good idea to invent slang names for most of the world's more promiinent countries, names which had even permeated the official system in a desperate gambit to boost the government's popularity. They weren't quite so legendary to the lay person on the street, but formidable for their existence alone. The crosshairs mounted above the contraption's many mighty barrels merrily ceneted on the beast's leg, and Gunner pulled the trigger once before he started the machine spinning, possibly because the satisfying click produced not a rain of hot lead but a concentrated bullet of water that really wouldn't do so well split into a fine spritz at the hands of the gun's spin. The next click, inaudible under the machine's frantic whirr, heralded the cacophony of fire, air, and lead that a weapon of its caliber so richly deserved. The machine's operator nearly cackled with glee, although such an outburst would be muted anyway by the wonderful rhythmic discord of the gatling turret. After about fifty or so rounds had been expelled, the machine's whirr slowed and finally stopped, the machine itself rapidly reducing itself to white light before that, too, dissapeared. Gunner smiled. He hadn't really needed to split a Shotgun into that superfluous display, but thankfully he didn't need an excuse to do something like that so long as it still served its purpose.
---------------
0.5. Snipe - Increase Wideshot's accuracy
1. Wideshot (80, [A], Aqua) Kuman's legs
2. Bubbler (50, [A], Aqua) Kuman's legs
3. Shotgun (50, [A]) Kuman's legs
last edited by
...She was still pulling on them strings, but Triggerman could feel her grip going lax. The bitch was letting go because she didn't have no other options; she couldn't hold onto the marionettes much longer lest the strings start to go aflame.
They had called; they'd started the fire just enough to ease the Damn Dame off the reigns so they could whip their own horses.
...I hear you.
It seemed that maybe The Kid had just enough brains to use the bullets; he was going at Smokey's legs if nothing else, hoping the Green Bastard would get to some Falling. He didn't think he'd be taking the notes from the Kid, but every dog had his day.
Old Smokey didn't take well to the last shot; the slinger could tell it'd done his eyes no favors. It was a license that he was keen to continue.
If there had ever been that silence even on this stage, the Dame's bated breath was heard over it. At a moment, she knew her power had faded; the Joker had cropped into play.
He gave no forewarning; Triggerman snapped a morbid shot into the air, and it's whine was edged in calling. It's echo resounded with the search for Them, and when the prelude stopped, the lethal fanfare began.
The raptors had fled, leaving but the traces of a few scant feathers in their retreat. They knew too well that they were coming. They had felt it in the coagulating air; they'd seen the card come into play and break their feeble hand. The Lady had left; the bitch was gone now.
The first of the deadly parade was borne from empty fire, air awash with the smell of purgatory. From his first hoof fall he championed the genesis of their new chase; his sextet of companions saw the dawn of their Ride.
They'd been freed again, intent on dragging the shackled soul back when they left.
Behind them, they charioted Hell.
The Western Wind jeered at their insolence, every damning advance on the septet just short of success, thunder applause taunting its efforts.
Every horse that rode had a name, and they wore their Deadly sin like a bleeding banner; Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Apathy, Wrath, Envy, Pride.
Horse neigh, hoof fall and wind; the sensibilities of ear were destroyed. Fleeting images of Purgatory and biting sand as facade; the trivialities of vision were absent.
Every bastard with the heavy heart would be damned; the field descended into Their domain, and Kuman had been sentenced.
Sweep that son-of-a-bitch, Triggerman thought, squinting into the Purgatory's visage.
The Seven sets of hooves responded; they bled their crimson stain across the bleak scene, racing across past Kuman. The world had slowed but they wouldn't, and neither would their chasing gale. A single line of the deadly sins swept by, behemoths bearing cocytus behind them. They weren't pulling party tricks; they were continuing what The Kid had started. He wanted to bring him on the ground, and so did they.
Triggerman recocked the hammer and reacquainted himself to Kuman behind the profile of his barrel. The Seven's cacophony had never quivered his aim; their images had never paused his finger. Their art had never masked the Faller, but trapped it. Single eyed, he had found Kuman well enough; the sight had rested on Smokey's leg.
All trigger pull and no gun noise; slowed by the giant's presence but not enough to quell the intent.
The Lady was imploring him now; Why? She'd just been in it for a few kicks. Just a farce; a staged comedy to the tune of a drinking game.
Go to hell. He recocked the hammer, worn poncho wild in the ravaging performance. Like the hunter on the trigger end of the barrel, he was keen to finish the kill. The game had drawn too close; it had tricks and the volition to escape, but the Seven had cast their net upon it now.
The emboldened sight drew across Smokey's other leg; the heavy finger invited another pull to sign the contract in lead.
-) Kuman is The Target
i) The Magnificent Seven (3 turn storm, 10 damage per turn, Kuman massively blinded, disoriented, deafened, immobilized); attempt to sweep Kuman off his footing in conjunction with Gunner's assault
ii) Snipe: Vulcan2 (20x5=100, superior speed, enhanced accuracy) Kuman's leg
iii) MarkCannon1 (80, may lock on, superior speed) Kuman's leg
Count: 1/6
They had called; they'd started the fire just enough to ease the Damn Dame off the reigns so they could whip their own horses.
...I hear you.
It seemed that maybe The Kid had just enough brains to use the bullets; he was going at Smokey's legs if nothing else, hoping the Green Bastard would get to some Falling. He didn't think he'd be taking the notes from the Kid, but every dog had his day.
Old Smokey didn't take well to the last shot; the slinger could tell it'd done his eyes no favors. It was a license that he was keen to continue.
If there had ever been that silence even on this stage, the Dame's bated breath was heard over it. At a moment, she knew her power had faded; the Joker had cropped into play.
He gave no forewarning; Triggerman snapped a morbid shot into the air, and it's whine was edged in calling. It's echo resounded with the search for Them, and when the prelude stopped, the lethal fanfare began.
The raptors had fled, leaving but the traces of a few scant feathers in their retreat. They knew too well that they were coming. They had felt it in the coagulating air; they'd seen the card come into play and break their feeble hand. The Lady had left; the bitch was gone now.
The first of the deadly parade was borne from empty fire, air awash with the smell of purgatory. From his first hoof fall he championed the genesis of their new chase; his sextet of companions saw the dawn of their Ride.
They'd been freed again, intent on dragging the shackled soul back when they left.
Behind them, they charioted Hell.
The Western Wind jeered at their insolence, every damning advance on the septet just short of success, thunder applause taunting its efforts.
Every horse that rode had a name, and they wore their Deadly sin like a bleeding banner; Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Apathy, Wrath, Envy, Pride.
Horse neigh, hoof fall and wind; the sensibilities of ear were destroyed. Fleeting images of Purgatory and biting sand as facade; the trivialities of vision were absent.
Every bastard with the heavy heart would be damned; the field descended into Their domain, and Kuman had been sentenced.
Sweep that son-of-a-bitch, Triggerman thought, squinting into the Purgatory's visage.
The Seven sets of hooves responded; they bled their crimson stain across the bleak scene, racing across past Kuman. The world had slowed but they wouldn't, and neither would their chasing gale. A single line of the deadly sins swept by, behemoths bearing cocytus behind them. They weren't pulling party tricks; they were continuing what The Kid had started. He wanted to bring him on the ground, and so did they.
Triggerman recocked the hammer and reacquainted himself to Kuman behind the profile of his barrel. The Seven's cacophony had never quivered his aim; their images had never paused his finger. Their art had never masked the Faller, but trapped it. Single eyed, he had found Kuman well enough; the sight had rested on Smokey's leg.
All trigger pull and no gun noise; slowed by the giant's presence but not enough to quell the intent.
The Lady was imploring him now; Why? She'd just been in it for a few kicks. Just a farce; a staged comedy to the tune of a drinking game.
Go to hell. He recocked the hammer, worn poncho wild in the ravaging performance. Like the hunter on the trigger end of the barrel, he was keen to finish the kill. The game had drawn too close; it had tricks and the volition to escape, but the Seven had cast their net upon it now.
The emboldened sight drew across Smokey's other leg; the heavy finger invited another pull to sign the contract in lead.
-) Kuman is The Target
i) The Magnificent Seven (3 turn storm, 10 damage per turn, Kuman massively blinded, disoriented, deafened, immobilized); attempt to sweep Kuman off his footing in conjunction with Gunner's assault
ii) Snipe: Vulcan2 (20x5=100, superior speed, enhanced accuracy) Kuman's leg
iii) MarkCannon1 (80, may lock on, superior speed) Kuman's leg
Count: 1/6