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Erdawn Il Deus · 08-15-2005, 02:21 AM

Virtue’s fist came down and bashed off Sebastian’s face and skull once more (the impacts shaking his head like the rumble of an earthquake) but as he drew back and punched again, the centurion pushed forward himself from the crater left behind his skull, twisting his abs and upper-body to the side, and the goliath’s fist only smashed the earth beneath him with a thundering boom. The Ghost Wolf gritted his teeth (his fine, china-white face broken like glass torn and twisted into an ugly bleeding mess) and sat himself up, bringing the elbow of his working arm down like the hammer of Thor above Virtue’s groin and knees. There was a split crack at the impact and the pain was like a spike of glass and Virtue felt as if his lower body has split wide in two, his jaws flagging open but making no sound. Sebastian struck again – his body an oiled machine, only knowing that he couldn’t breath and his spine was breaking and his head was packed with hard sand and numb and broken and his bunched fist slammed upwards below Virtue’s sternum, the impact targeted with surgical preciseness to rattle his entire ribcage, slamming the bones up against each and crushing the ligaments between them like a sturdy accordion in the Khuutra’s chest, who’s torso swung backwards, blood spewing from his dark lips in a hot stream, splashing onto his chest and Sebastian’s matted locks.

“JA-MÜT YOLERAH!” He swore, and Sebastian’s body swung down and bounced off the crushed white field like a beached shark, swinging upwards again the orbits of his eyes wide and cold and green in what might have been rage, so sunken into their sockets and so veined, his lips only a white line. His arm whipped back and forth again in a knife that disappeared somewhere between Virtue’s knees and thighs and hit like a freight engine of neige flesh. The feeling rushed into Virtue’s gut, stagnant water, a bundle of feverish wires sprung open, suffocating in its intensity and the massive white juggernaut gagged and suddenly he rolled himself off his enemy, his instincts only screaming at him to get away from the pain, dumbing and maddening. He thrashed, grabbing at places, beating at places, the pain nauseating and ineffable, like a disembodied itch.

Sebastian rolled himself over as well, his body seized and his chest burning, sucking air into his lungs with starved desperation, pounding at the ground, his body half-crushed, writhing and whipping his legs. With controlled agony, he pushed himself up on his one remaining arm, pushing a glob of sickening dark red (almost black) from his lips and blowing a cough to clear his throat, muscles throbbing and coiling underneath his achromatic flesh, burning, hissing like steam engines. With a snarl, he tightened everything, locking it down into submission in a bodily meditation, knowing only he would kill and kill and kill before dying himself (perhaps). His body straightened partially, still almost double over, his face so beaten and swollen and bruised and bloody that only one eye was visible and the orb glimmered like an icy nickel from its broken socket. Teeth, broken and bloody in part, pulled back in a controlled grimace, and finally he stood up.

He drew in rattling breaths, knowing his body was badly damaged, the extent only held back by his own force of will, rigorous training of his bones and aura. Blood streamed from his nostrils. They were equally met – in their own way. Virtue was mighty as a titan, he was fast, agile, and harboured knowledge of body cartography that bordered the surgical. He groped at the splintered mass of his right arm, pulling at the shoulder and wrenching the bone back in place, still useless but at least connected to his body. He had to find a way to tear him apart, break him down – fighting him was like sculpting, chipping away constantly, piece at a time, finally revealing something of worth, weakness. And when that was opened to the air, Sebastian would strike it dead.

”Yæ-sõ je, Ille-ήallum requiesta!” he yelled, cursing, wiping the hot sticky red from his broken face. ”Inch at a time, you will die.” His breath turned to ice in the air, blanched sparkling fog cold and unforgiving, casting a bluish hue, and slowly frost rimmed his face, blue almost lit from within with phosphorence, thin branches like diamond pencil-lead. He tore forward, achromic, his body smoked with brilliant white fog with every oiled lurch of his shoulders and legs, the alabaster grass actually crystallizing and shattering to dust in his wake, blasting the air with rains of glittering incandescent sands (and there was chiming and the shadows of sparrows out of the corner of his vision, sparrows or ravens, chirping and cawing, seeing and waiting and searching, but that slow, tinkling chime, that was forever and it was everywhere).

Virtue lurched, his legs still shuddering and wanting to give but his mind crushing its whim into submission, his face so taunt and pulled back with his pain it was human. The attack mapped out in Sebastian’s mind, flashing before his eyes like the afterimages of a photograph. Virtue swung his fist low and hooked, to slam into the centurion’s already wounded belly, and Sebastian leapt, touching down – actually stepping off Virtue’s swinging wrist and flipping his body with unholy grace, his fist striking out and thudding like a spear into the juggernaut’s neck, receding as the skull snapped backwards at the jaw, flickering downwards and crushing the wolverine-like nose into its face and blinding those deep, un-pigmented pink eyes with the sting of tears, landing like a feline at his back and turning around and bringing all hell to the Khuutra’s shoulder.

His hand knifed out, cracking against the socket and bone over-and-over but all across, surgical again in his fury, striking powerful and awful, the air actually thumping back into place where his arm moved, wheeling his upper body and cracking at it with his elbow, knuckles, the bone of his palm, all the while focusing his aural energies, sliding them into each other until they swarmed and liquefied into a whirpool around Virtue’s arm bones spun in webs and leylines of power. Fog billowing from Sebastian’s mouth and ice finding itself in the nooks and crannies of those calcium fortresses, sucking ligaments into shrunken, foetal pieces of dried meat.

Virtue swung that arm backwards, meaning to cleanly knock Sebastian’s head from his shoulders, and the centurion ducked into a squat, pistoning his arm, and as Virtue’s hyper-extended enough to practically meet his other shoulder, his hips rotating, and the Ghost Wolf struck.

When his fist met the place where Virtue’s shoulder ended and his arm began, at the socket, something unseen happened – the aura pumped into that nook sprung loose from itself like a wound bear-trap, an explosion of exothermic invisible might, and the ice in Virtue’s bones shattered, and in a single instant, a cyclone of Sebastian’s chi, the Khuutra’s arm simply tore off. Crash and splinter and pop, blood exploded from the rips and tears and the centrifugal energy of Sebastian’s aural vortex shimmered through the air like spun heat, buffeting against both warriors and the grass, the arm itself spinning ridiculously through the night air (whup-whup-whup) and landing heavily in the grass, twitching once, jumping, and lying still. Virtue roared, again, like a trumpet, the sound alone shaking Sebastian’s ears as the goliath’s other arm whipped the other way, guillotining the air clean and loudly. Sebastian ducked again, bringing his fist around and slamming Virtue’s left rib-cage, hearing a muffled crack as he did. Virtue brought the arm down like a dock crane, slamming into Sebastian’s shoulder and bringing him to his knees involuntarily, a massive, furred hand grabbing his skull and swinging upwards with Herculean strength, heaving Sebastian straight up into the air.

The wind roared in the centurion’s ears, and he howled, and flipped himself in the air and fell on Virtue with his legs, his eyes blazing cold emerald fire in his skull. His heels came down on the nerves of both Virtue’s shoulders and these seized up, coiling into receding carpets of muscle other the flesh and locking his arm in place, bones popping at the impact. As he knelt behind Virtue’s massive head, the centurion dashed aside his elbow, the point bulling into the joint of the Khuutra’s jaw, that nest of nerves, and with a splintering crunch that part unhinged into glass splinters, that nerves stretching and seizuring in his face and rattling his brain. Sebastian kicked off Virtue’s back (who stumbled forward and fell like a fallen white God into the infinite white field, trailed with blood and enamel and realising he might just be bleeding to death) in a backflip, crouching slowly into the field away from him.

His body screamed, itched, gnawed, but he pushed it down, still crouching, and waited.

OoC: http://www.vgmusic.com/music/console...bosv3final.mid
Tis here suits me. I think the post kinda pettered out near the end, but hey, I hope you enjoyed.

[ August 15, 2005, 02:41 AM: Message edited by: e-r-d-a-w-n ]

08-15-2005, 02:21 AM	#7
Erdawn Il Deus Senior Member Join Date: May 2003 Location: Threading the jeweled thrones of earth under my sandalled feet Gender: Posts: 2,990 Thanks: 4 Thanked 45 Times in 39 Posts Points: 23,782.11 Bank: 788.45 Total Points: 24,570.56 Donate	Virtue’s fist came down and bashed off Sebastian’s face and skull once more (the impacts shaking his head like the rumble of an earthquake) but as he drew back and punched again, the centurion pushed forward himself from the crater left behind his skull, twisting his abs and upper-body to the side, and the goliath’s fist only smashed the earth beneath him with a thundering boom. The Ghost Wolf gritted his teeth (his fine, china-white face broken like glass torn and twisted into an ugly bleeding mess) and sat himself up, bringing the elbow of his working arm down like the hammer of Thor above Virtue’s groin and knees. There was a split crack at the impact and the pain was like a spike of glass and Virtue felt as if his lower body has split wide in two, his jaws flagging open but making no sound. Sebastian struck again – his body an oiled machine, only knowing that he couldn’t breath and his spine was breaking and his head was packed with hard sand and numb and broken and his bunched fist slammed upwards below Virtue’s sternum, the impact targeted with surgical preciseness to rattle his entire ribcage, slamming the bones up against each and crushing the ligaments between them like a sturdy accordion in the Khuutra’s chest, who’s torso swung backwards, blood spewing from his dark lips in a hot stream, splashing onto his chest and Sebastian’s matted locks. “JA-MÜT YOLERAH!” He swore, and Sebastian’s body swung down and bounced off the crushed white field like a beached shark, swinging upwards again the orbits of his eyes wide and cold and green in what might have been rage, so sunken into their sockets and so veined, his lips only a white line. His arm whipped back and forth again in a knife that disappeared somewhere between Virtue’s knees and thighs and hit like a freight engine of neige flesh. The feeling rushed into Virtue’s gut, stagnant water, a bundle of feverish wires sprung open, suffocating in its intensity and the massive white juggernaut gagged and suddenly he rolled himself off his enemy, his instincts only screaming at him to get away from the pain, dumbing and maddening. He thrashed, grabbing at places, beating at places, the pain nauseating and ineffable, like a disembodied itch. Sebastian rolled himself over as well, his body seized and his chest burning, sucking air into his lungs with starved desperation, pounding at the ground, his body half-crushed, writhing and whipping his legs. With controlled agony, he pushed himself up on his one remaining arm, pushing a glob of sickening dark red (almost black) from his lips and blowing a cough to clear his throat, muscles throbbing and coiling underneath his achromatic flesh, burning, hissing like steam engines. With a snarl, he tightened everything, locking it down into submission in a bodily meditation, knowing only he would kill and kill and kill before dying himself (perhaps). His body straightened partially, still almost double over, his face so beaten and swollen and bruised and bloody that only one eye was visible and the orb glimmered like an icy nickel from its broken socket. Teeth, broken and bloody in part, pulled back in a controlled grimace, and finally he stood up. He drew in rattling breaths, knowing his body was badly damaged, the extent only held back by his own force of will, rigorous training of his bones and aura. Blood streamed from his nostrils. They were equally met – in their own way. Virtue was mighty as a titan, he was fast, agile, and harboured knowledge of body cartography that bordered the surgical. He groped at the splintered mass of his right arm, pulling at the shoulder and wrenching the bone back in place, still useless but at least connected to his body. He had to find a way to tear him apart, break him down – fighting him was like sculpting, chipping away constantly, piece at a time, finally revealing something of worth, weakness. And when that was opened to the air, Sebastian would strike it dead. ”Yæ-sõ je, Ille-ήallum requiesta!” he yelled, cursing, wiping the hot sticky red from his broken face. ”Inch at a time, you will die.” His breath turned to ice in the air, blanched sparkling fog cold and unforgiving, casting a bluish hue, and slowly frost rimmed his face, blue almost lit from within with phosphorence, thin branches like diamond pencil-lead. He tore forward, achromic, his body smoked with brilliant white fog with every oiled lurch of his shoulders and legs, the alabaster grass actually crystallizing and shattering to dust in his wake, blasting the air with rains of glittering incandescent sands (and there was chiming and the shadows of sparrows out of the corner of his vision, sparrows or ravens, chirping and cawing, seeing and waiting and searching, but that slow, tinkling chime, that was forever and it was everywhere). Virtue lurched, his legs still shuddering and wanting to give but his mind crushing its whim into submission, his face so taunt and pulled back with his pain it was human. The attack mapped out in Sebastian’s mind, flashing before his eyes like the afterimages of a photograph. Virtue swung his fist low and hooked, to slam into the centurion’s already wounded belly, and Sebastian leapt, touching down – actually stepping off Virtue’s swinging wrist and flipping his body with unholy grace, his fist striking out and thudding like a spear into the juggernaut’s neck, receding as the skull snapped backwards at the jaw, flickering downwards and crushing the wolverine-like nose into its face and blinding those deep, un-pigmented pink eyes with the sting of tears, landing like a feline at his back and turning around and bringing all hell to the Khuutra’s shoulder. His hand knifed out, cracking against the socket and bone over-and-over but all across, surgical again in his fury, striking powerful and awful, the air actually thumping back into place where his arm moved, wheeling his upper body and cracking at it with his elbow, knuckles, the bone of his palm, all the while focusing his aural energies, sliding them into each other until they swarmed and liquefied into a whirpool around Virtue’s arm bones spun in webs and leylines of power. Fog billowing from Sebastian’s mouth and ice finding itself in the nooks and crannies of those calcium fortresses, sucking ligaments into shrunken, foetal pieces of dried meat. Virtue swung that arm backwards, meaning to cleanly knock Sebastian’s head from his shoulders, and the centurion ducked into a squat, pistoning his arm, and as Virtue’s hyper-extended enough to practically meet his other shoulder, his hips rotating, and the Ghost Wolf struck. When his fist met the place where Virtue’s shoulder ended and his arm began, at the socket, something unseen happened – the aura pumped into that nook sprung loose from itself like a wound bear-trap, an explosion of exothermic invisible might, and the ice in Virtue’s bones shattered, and in a single instant, a cyclone of Sebastian’s chi, the Khuutra’s arm simply tore off. Crash and splinter and pop, blood exploded from the rips and tears and the centrifugal energy of Sebastian’s aural vortex shimmered through the air like spun heat, buffeting against both warriors and the grass, the arm itself spinning ridiculously through the night air (whup-whup-whup) and landing heavily in the grass, twitching once, jumping, and lying still. Virtue roared, again, like a trumpet, the sound alone shaking Sebastian’s ears as the goliath’s other arm whipped the other way, guillotining the air clean and loudly. Sebastian ducked again, bringing his fist around and slamming Virtue’s left rib-cage, hearing a muffled crack as he did. Virtue brought the arm down like a dock crane, slamming into Sebastian’s shoulder and bringing him to his knees involuntarily, a massive, furred hand grabbing his skull and swinging upwards with Herculean strength, heaving Sebastian straight up into the air. The wind roared in the centurion’s ears, and he howled, and flipped himself in the air and fell on Virtue with his legs, his eyes blazing cold emerald fire in his skull. His heels came down on the nerves of both Virtue’s shoulders and these seized up, coiling into receding carpets of muscle other the flesh and locking his arm in place, bones popping at the impact. As he knelt behind Virtue’s massive head, the centurion dashed aside his elbow, the point bulling into the joint of the Khuutra’s jaw, that nest of nerves, and with a splintering crunch that part unhinged into glass splinters, that nerves stretching and seizuring in his face and rattling his brain. Sebastian kicked off Virtue’s back (who stumbled forward and fell like a fallen white God into the infinite white field, trailed with blood and enamel and realising he might just be bleeding to death) in a backflip, crouching slowly into the field away from him. His body screamed, itched, gnawed, but he pushed it down, still crouching, and waited. OoC: http://www.vgmusic.com/music/console...bosv3final.mid Tis here suits me. I think the post kinda pettered out near the end, but hey, I hope you enjoyed. [ August 15, 2005, 02:41 AM: Message edited by: e-r-d-a-w-n ]