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Post by Fainis the Sadistic Pansexual on Sept 26, 2014 2:31:34 GMT -5
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Post by Fainis the Sadistic Pansexual on Oct 7, 2014 1:30:06 GMT -5
The slender form of Pouh-Wung appeared in a flash of yellowish light and dropped down with a tremendous splash, spraying ugly brown foam and swamp muck everywhere. The lung grumbled in surprise. He had appeared to have gotten here before the samurai. Casting his dark cat eyes about to confirm this, the serpentine bruiser crossed his arm and slumped lazily against a nearby tree trunk. Though his body appear relaxed, his legs and tail were wound tight as springs below him, ready to launch his body into action as soon as his foe arrived...
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Post by yaburu on Oct 8, 2014 1:53:11 GMT -5
*CRAP! I thought we hadn't had a ref this whole time, sorry.*
Pouh-Wung's wait was short lived. Some distance away, Musashi's form came into view. The two quickly spotted each other, and Musashi spat at the ground towards his foe, a sign of disrespect.
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Post by Tenshi the Sunkern on Oct 8, 2014 2:34:37 GMT -5
(HAYES.... I AM NOT A DORK FACE!)
Monsters... FIGHT!
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Post by Fainis the Sadistic Pansexual on Oct 14, 2014 6:04:10 GMT -5
(Dun worry, Yabs... our ref is a total dorkface, so you can hardly be blamed for denying his existence.)
Pouh smirked as the samurai hocked one onto the ground. Cute. But vulgarity was not befitting of the armored warrior. The lung was surprised that the stick undoubtably up his butt had allowed for even that small act of crudeness. Pouh though... he was limber. Flexible. Built for rudeness in its every shape and form! Vulgarity was just how he rolled and he planned to show it to the four-armed freak. Letting his tongue roll from his mouth and cocking his leg back, the corrupted guardian cracked a long, sleazy smile and hooted once at Musashi as if to gain his attention. The old one figured it was only fair: one act of nobility from a crude creature for one act of crudeness from a noble creature. No sneak attacks or moves made to catch off guard.
When Pouh drew first blood, he wanted Musashi to see it coming.
Whirling on a heel, Pouh-Wung whipped his tail through the air and conjured up a twister. The raging vortex of wind quickly sucked up water and became a waterspout, dancing towards the samurai like some gangly sea monster of old as it drew up filthy marsh water that painted it all shades of ugly greens, browns, and blacks. The boggy tornado sprayed a fine mist of grimy water that got into Musashi's eyes, blinding him for a brief moment and preventing counterattack, before it slammed into his chest, shoving him back and scattering over his plated form like a delicate glass ornament dropped to the ground. Though the twister itself carried no great weight, merely wind against a living mountainscape, the dirty water, submerged logs, and other debris it had picked up pricked the unarmored parts of Musashi's form like pellets from a buckshot, as did the gnarled grove of trees that the scarlet warrior fell onto. Thin trickles of blood were lost in the crimson of the samurai's fur as the tiny projectiles dug into unguarded tissue and let the swamp soak in, harsh and needle-like in its sting. Hacking out a rough, revving laugh, Pouh slapped his tail onto the ground and launched himself at the downed warrior like a missile, both spurred heels raised to deliver a monstrous dropkick.
However, the lung, as he often did, underestimated his opponent. With a sweep of one of his four arms, Musashi lifted a great slab of wet earth, the vertical plain of mud catching Pouh like a two-hundred meter strip of flypaper. The lithe bruiser yelped in pain as his legs were jammed into their sockets and both ankles were compressed near breaking point. Falling backwards, the serpentine brawler flopped into the water and let out a winded groan. Musashi pushed the wall of damp earth forward, slamming it down like a massive set of jaws and hopefully crushing his foe, but his wishes were soon proved unfilled. Knobby skull surfacing in front of the samurai like a crested crocodile's head, Pouh- who had submerged himself and swam beneath the falling slab of mud- released an icy breath. The subzero huff of air caught the rising Musashi around the ankles and froze them in place. Snarling, Pouh wrangled the shorter giant by the ornate projections that wrapped his helmet and tugged down, cracking the doglike muzzle of the monster one, twice, thrice, and then a fourth and final time against the ice at his feet before throwing him back. The heels of the samurai broke free from the blood-smeared ice that cuffed them with a dulled cracking sound. Charging forward, Pouh caught the armored one in the gut in a monstrous blow lead by his knobbed head. The beautifully crafted plates that magically guarded the warrior softened the blow, but a full-body tackle by nearly 70,000 tons of offended punk could only be cushioned so much. Spittle and blood flew from the gashed snout of the samurai as Pouh flung himself down and tried to drive Musashi hard into the ground...
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