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Violent vs. Archangels(A practice battle)



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xArchangelx

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This thread is to prepare one of my characters for a battle on another site. Problem is I haven't used them in a long time and forgot how to use them so v_a and me are gonna have a go. Hopefully i'll remember how to use him.

Arena: Forest

Template:

Name: Chrono Lockheart
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Class: Human/ ???
Appearance: A tall, frail looking person with spiky black hair and blood red eyes. He dresses in a long red cape, a black t-shirt, blue baggy jeans, and straps a brown cross onto his back.
Personality: Nice and easy going, but gets angry easily and deadly serious.
Bio: He can't remember anything about his past but his name and the name of his little sister, Tina Lockheart. He currently searches for her, hoping to be reunited with his family.
Weapons: Fists
Abilities: none
Forms:

Black Devil: A form where he loses control of his thoughts and actions. His skills are increased past their maximum potential, but only for a short amount of time, as this form causes him to die if he remains in it to long. He can't call on this form at will, and it greatly exhausts his energy if it occurs. It is somehow related to the cross he bears.

I haven't used his orginal version in so long. -_-" Oh well. If someone could judge this that'd be great.
 

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....O...Kay.......





Name: Thomas Evans
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Personality: He loves the good times. He's willing to work hard, but only if he sees prospects of good times. There are few things he takes seriously, his music being one of them. His pride in general is another.

Appearance: A spry young man, standing at about 5'8" tall. His hair is a dark color, and neatly cut. His face is plain but likable, with immaculate teeth and bright blue eyes. All over his body are tattooed in small print some of his favorite lyrics. On his right shoulder is tattooed a greek lyre.
http://www.ceu.hu/medstud/manual/SRM/pic/glthunder.jpg
This is Thunderbolt tattooed on the back of both of his hands.
His garbs are simply clothes, almost archiac. Normal dyed cotton pants, a long sleeved shirt, and a jacket. Worn brown leather shoes without socks, a a cheap blue cotton hat. All of this is rather filthy, as he rarely washes it. He always carries a solid gold lyre, much like the one tattooed on his shoulder.

Tattoo lyrics:
And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it's time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
~~~
I know we've seen a lot of bolts of lightning
Striking on the people and it's oh so frightening
And it looks like the tides are rising
Board your doors here comes hurricane George
I know we've had a lot of cold winds blowing
Poles are melting from the global warming
This forecast is the final warning
Board your doors here comes hurricane George
~~~
And when we block it out it doubles the pain
So we... double the dosage again and again
Pretty soon we off track like a runaway train
Try to run from the fact, we all one in the same
And the pain that we cause is the cause of our pain
And it's strange and we lost to the laws of the game
Called cause and effect, who the boss, who the slave
Who to pay, who to hate, who to fear (who's to blame)
~~~
take your halfsteppin, half ass little half diss
stick it up yo crab ass it could never match this
if you thinking you should respond to this song forget about it
unless you put it on sweden's biggest rapsite i won't hear about it
~~~


Abilities:
The lyrics on his body are his abilities. Often, but not always, they should be taken literally. When using his powers, He will feel the Thunderbolt and the lyric in question heat up. No one else could tell though. His tattoos are ingrained upon his body, soud, mind, and life. Simply removing the tattooes will not be enough.

The lyre is rather light-weight and magically enchanted. He can swing it around as a club if need be, for Thomas is rather decent in fighting. The magics have made the lyre diamond hard, immune to magnetism, and have given it certain offensive abilities. The seven strings can be pulled back and released, materializing an arrow rocketing towards it's target. The lightest and thinnest string sings a sweet, low lullaby that brings silence in its wake. The second and third use air pressure to create push and pull, respectively. The fourth effects both the ear and inner ear. Equilibrium and balance, along with hearing in general, will be crippled or completely taken. The fifth string affects the mind, and in effect makes illusions. The sixth makes an absolutely lovely tune, and has been associated with the Sirens by many. The thickest and heaviest string has a low tone, evoking sadness or depression. Shold the listener have a sad past, these memories will often be recollected. In an extreme state of sorrow or weakness, it may even bring death. These may be strung together in a song. For example, the first and sixth may be used together to induce sleep-walking effects.

History: In progress.

Qote: ‘There is no fool like a half-learned fool.’









I guess I can have him not use any of his powers... Go ahead and start.

Oh, and you can use both of your characters, I'll manage.
 

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OOC: Nah that's ok. If I did that I would rely on the strongest of the two characters, being Tina, and never use him much. Anything goes match...so here we go.

IC:

"The breeze. I never thought of how peaceful it really was until now."
These were the words spoken by an average teen who had just layed down underneath a tree to catch a break. He didn't appear to look very strong, and the only thing he seemed to be carrying was a brown wooden cross. He appeared to have just finished some type of training, as he was sweating furiously, and his breaths started to become more uneven and heavy as he continued to stare at the sky with an idiotic smile on his face. The feeling of the breeze cooling him off, making his black spiky hair dance seemed to sooth him as his red eyes began to get lost in the images that appeared before him in the sky. Without thinking, he slowly closed his eyes and began to listen to the various sounds around him. The sound of birds chirping, the sound of the trees as they wrestled with the breeze, swaying back and forth. For a moment, it seemed he was at peace before he opened his eyes again, looking at the sky with a serious look in them as he spoke a few words to himself out loud while he extended his arm to the sky as though to embrace it.
 

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This lovely silence was immediately broken as an unearthly sound was echoed across the forest from the pits of hell itself. As if some beast was so vile that hell wouldn't stomach it, and expelled it back out for the world to suffer. Thomas Evans was so freaking wasted.

---Previously

Thomas thought it would be fun, a nice little camping trip. Man against the elements. Him and his friends were playing at conquerors of these savage lands. They were lucky to have Thomas there, because not a single damned one of them could start a fire. Not that it matters though, because they were powerful were it mattered most. They could drink Thomas under the table, or uh...under the tree stump. And they had made sure to bring plenty of the good stuff with them on the trip.

Lucky sods could build up a tolerance getting drunk off their asses at the end of each day. They spent the day shoveling or hitting something, they only had to keep their arms strong. But Thomas was a fighter, to conquer the world he had to keep a top physique. Aha.

It wasn't even dark yet, and Thomas had already reached his limit. He told his friends that he would be off a ways trying to sober up and expel the poisons. Wondering a little ways off, he happened to come across some little kid with jeans and a stupid red cape. Few people could pull off a red cape, and they usually had spikes all over them. Thomas noted that the boy also had a black cross strapped to his back. What a coincidence, Thomas kept his own harp on his back too. He stumbled up to the boy, about to say hello, but before he could get a word out, those smoked fished they caught in the morning started swimming upstream again.

---And now

Giggling slightly, Thomas apologized, "Sorry about that, bub, I hope your shoes are easy to clean. I heard a bit of club sod- HUUUAAGH." Now the remainder of last nights dinner of buffalo wings had come up as well, splattered all over the young boy's black t-shit and jeans. "Eh heh...Whoopsie-daisy."
 

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Chrono's attention was still skyward, to lost in thought to react to anything around him, and by the time his attention came back down to Earth it was already to late to react to the drunks actions. So here it was again, another one of Chrono's peaceful days ruined by another random drunk. Putting one of his hands to his forehead, he got up slowly and looked at what was left of his shirt and jeans, as it was covered in things he couldn't identify, and things he didn't think could actually stick to his shirt, or pants for that matter. Actually he had gotten quite used to these short of things happening randomly, but today was an exception. He was going to teach someone a lesson by applying the same basic principle he did to almost every drunk, a fist to their face.

"Who do you think you are," he screamed at the stranger who had defiled his clothes, but he wasn't expecting for the person to answer him, as he already knew what he was going to do. He had a big smile on his face, which he quickly supressed. He couldn't help it, he loved to fight, and he lived forced in a situations that frequently required it, so he was plainly pretty happy, even though he wished that he could go at least one day without fighting.

"I hope you like the feeling of my fist in your face, cause thats what your getting for messing with me," he said before swiftly shifting his balance to his right foot and balling his left hand into a fist, and almost instantly as a response of his previous actions he swung his fist towards the drunk, aiming straight for his face. If he was just another average drunk, then this would knock him out cold just as it did with every other drunk who had bothered him, but somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was different than the previous people he had encountered.
 

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The punch had sent Thomas flying back. His opponent was surely pleased with himself and his easy victory. But then while Thomas was still in midair, he contorted his body to bring both of his legs up, sandwiched the young man's head between his feet, and pulled him up in the air as well. Then, doing an aerial somersault backwards, he trailed the boy back like a boy waving a string around. As his head fiercely crashed against the ground, Thomas brought both of his hands to the ground for support. He was now almost in a push-up position. From the leverage of his hands, he brought his body up into a handstand, the boy's little head still trapped in his feet. Then he brought the body crashing down once more, forward this time. The boy landed on his gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Damn that would have been badass... Thomas thought. But he wasn't Jackie Chan, he couldn't do all of that wire-fu combat stuff that he had just imagined himself doing. Funny how powerful his imagination was, because he thought of that all in the time frame between the boy making some stupid one-liner and actually swinging the punch.

But this right here was the actually punch coming. Thomas leaned forward and brought his hand up in time to catch the punch. falling forward and turning slightly, he placed his neck directly at his opponent's elbow. His free hand was pulled up in a block, ready for any and all of the boy's other four extremities. Now, with the hand holding his opponent's fist, he pulled down. Hard. The pressure on the elbow would cause excruciating pain, if not the more likely broken bone. Now, Thomas swept the legs of this young boy, landing him flat on his back with a crippled left arm.


OOC: This is all assuming you can't stop it. Feel free to describe how you counter my two attacks.
 

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"So it looks like my hunch was right. He isn't like the other drunks. This might get interesting," Chrono mumbled to himself as he watched his opponent catch his punch and fall forward in an attempt to counter. It was a type of fighting style Chrono had never seen before, but he was better than his opponent was anticipating, even though half of his skill came from nothing more than pure luck, and the fact that he knew his surrondings very well. The bushes, where the good places to hide were, and the trees, including the one that he was resting on, which luckily enough was still right behind him.

Before the drunks neck was placed on his arm, he swiftly kicked his left leg out to make it look like he was going to kick the drunk and make him move his free arm, dropping his guard. As his leg flew through the air he stopped it in midair, right before it looked like it was going to hit the area his leg was aimed at, and thrust it into the ground before the drunk had a chance to catch it like he had previously done with his punch.

Wasting no time, Chrono immeadiatly grabbed the drunk with his right arm after he thrust his leg to the ground and leaned forward, placing his shoulder on the drunks stomach and grimancing in pain as the drunk applied pressure to his left arm. Acting quickly, Chrono held the man by his clothes, and using his right arm for power and left arm for aim,flipped the drunk, hurtling him through the air and sending him on a direct crash course with the tree that was directly behind behind Chrono.

"So mr. drunk wants to act tough all of a sudden," Chrono shouted at the drunk as he clenched his left arm tightly. He was pretty sure that his arm wasn't broken, but he had tried to ignore the fact that his opponents last attack didn't exist, and by using his left arm even though it had taken a blow like that made the drunks last attack more deadly, as it caused more damage than Chrono would have orginally taken. "For your sake I hope this knocks you out, cause if you get up again I won't hold back."
 

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After the judo flip, the boy had assumed Thomas to be helpless. But soon, it would be unlikely that he could either kick or judo flip. After his back was smacked into the tree, he fell forward. Not because he was beaten, but because it put him in a better position. Now he own legs were near his opponent. Specifically, one of his feet was exactly on the outside of the boy's left foot. Then, Thomas violently kicked sideways with his other foot, right at the boy's left knee. Joints were always weak points. Because the boy's lower leg couldn't budge, being held in place with Thomas' foot, his knee bent sideways, at an unnatural angle. The boy would be lucky if he could bear to put even a tenth of his own weight on the leg without screaming in pain. Now his whole left side was crippled and useless.

Getting up to his own feet, Thomas slowly tuned around. "Kids these days don't have the faintest idea of how to take a man down," Thomas sighed to him. "Come on now, are the young to spoiled now that they can't beat a drunken old man?"
 

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"Somethings not right here. That was way to easy," he mumbled to himself as he looked at the sky again, only to be brought back down to earth again in a split second with the pain of someone elses kick to his leg. As he started to hit the ground with a thud, he watched the drunk get off of the ground and say a few words to him looking quite pleased with himself. This however, was as much as Chrono was going to put up with.

"For a drunk old man, you sure don't know when its time to shut up do you," he barked back at the drunk while he started to sit up, now holding his injured left leg tightly. After cussing to himself a little, he let go of his leg and took off his training gloves. They were weighted enough to slow down his punches greatly, and without them Chrono could normally punch solid objects in half. After taking off his gloves, he started to unhitch the leather straps that held his cross firmly to his back, which weighed roughly a couple of kilos and caused his body to react slowly, and caused him to move slower. After years of training with both of his gloves and cross on him at all times, this was one of the few times it required him to take them off. After putting an evil smile on his face, he looked back up at the drunk with his red eyes, and from where the drunk was standing it must have looked like he had become crazy.

"I bet you won't hit me again without losing a limb, or maybe I should take your pitiful life," Chrono said as his voice started to change into a different, more evil tone.
 

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"I'm drunk, I talk when it's time to shut up." Thomas retorted to the boy clutching his leg. A pitiable sight. There was no need for an unprovoked attack at the moment, so Thomas continued standing there, watching the boy remove his gloves. As they fell to the earth, Thomas noted that they made a small cloud of dust explode out from the dirt. They also made a low thud, the kind that you knew came from heavy objects. So the boy had weights on. Now he unhitched the strap on his chest, removing the cross that hung on his back. More weights off now.

The boy could put on a mean face, with those eyes that Thomas just realized were red, but it didn't mean much. The boy had threatened him again, despite how he was on the receiving end of things from the beginning. Including the crusted vomit that still hung on his shirt and pants. Some of it even got on that leather strap he took off. His voice sounds more....dark now, more cruel, evil even. "I hope you don't plan to go too crazy here, you wouldn't want to harm out Mother Earth, now would you?"

At this moment he held out his hand, palm up. A sudden gust now tugged at their clothes. All of the branches and leaves and other such things swirled up in a dark, dusty wind, balling up on Thomas's hand. In an instant, they all ignited in a blaze of glory. The tongues of flame licked up at the air as the flame grew brighter and brighter. But as it grew brighter, now white hot, the flame also seemed to lose it's definition. As if it stopped being flame at all, but merely a white ball of light. Immediately, a bolt of lightning darted out of the orb, striking the pile of gloves and cross. Anything flammable, cloth and leather and wood, all turned to ashes immediately, overwhelmed by the heat. Anything not flammable, that being the metal, melted into a little pool of slag upon the forest floor. As suddenly as the lightning came, the ball of white light faded.

"Try to take whatever you get a hold of, if you imagine you actually can. After I beat you into the ground like the arrogant twerp you are, I'll scatter your ashes across the river." Thomas threatened back. He had no intentions of doing such a thing, but the boy would fight worse, expecting a magical hit that would never really come.
 

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As Chrono sat there on the ground, he watched as the drunk started making a few smart remarks before he placed his hand outward to make a couple of flames appear, turning them into what appeared to be a white sphere of light. He also noticed that as he did this, the area around them began to turn more violent with each second as the gusts of wind around them began to pick up in pace, almost as if they were trying to strike them as a bolt of lightning that had apparantly come from the drunks newly formed sphere struck the pile that Chrono had made with his weights. The fire that had been started next to him was violently wavering as the drunk began to make threats at him.

"So you knew more than you let on," he replied to the drunk as he started to put his left knee to the ground and his right foot in a position that a track athelete would take before the start of a race. As Chrono grabbed a piece of dirt from the newly tarnished ground, holding it tightly in his hand, he took a glance at his opponent, and his current position as he slowly closed his eyes.

"I'll show you," he said as he threw the dirt at his opponent, and hopefully with the assistance of the wind currents which were currently blowing towards the drunk, it would reach his target, the drunks eyes, and blind him enough for him to attack before the drunk could launch another spell. Wasting no time, he quickly followed the trail of dust that he had thrown out before him by hopping off of his right leg with enough strength to make it appear as if he had dissapeared, only to reappear in front of the drunk with his right hand balled in a fist, which was about to make contact with the tree behind the drunk, and did as he made contact with the tree, cracking it. Then to make it look as if he had been attacking, he quickly flipped his body, landed on his right hand, and tried to kick the blinded drunk with his left foot, ignoring the waves of pain that swept over him.
 

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What the boy failed to realize was that the wind was not blowing towards Thomas at all. Like a tornado, the wind was drawing everything towards its eye, its center. A center which was in front of Thomas, and slightly to his right. Which was the boy's left. At a height approximately where his arm was.

The ball of dirt was drawn in there, where it hovered in mid air for a second, the inertia keeping it from falling for a while longer. Long enough for it to make impact with the rushing boy's left arm. Even if the dirt ball was stationary, the boy was moving at speeds high enough that the dirt ball might as well have been shot out of a cannon. It hit his forearm, flinging it back and bending his elbow in the opposite direction. The elbow was already raw, but after this, Thomas was sure the boy would pass out from all the pain.

Right before the boy had registered what had happened and was standing still for a split second, Thomas noticed his hand balled up in a fist. He had apparently been planning to attack in some way. Oh well, whatever it was wasn't going to happen now.
 
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