Skye vs. Limitless

[Skye]

Well since you wouldn't let me use my Skye character, and wanted me to make a new one instead, this bio isn't quite as good as the others. (Skye/ Inosuke for example) Anyways, here it is, and I'll let you decide the setting and everything.

Bio: http://www.animechatforums.com/forum/vi ... 326#117326 (http://www.animechatforums.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=117326#117326)

[Limitless]

RULES!

1. Fun must be had by both sides

2. We must work out any lingering kinks in our verbal abilities before the tournament.

3. While we are fighting each other, make sure to not only think of ways to beat me since our opponents will prolly think of the same thing in our own fights in the tournie, but also about how to work together and ways to block/go around the weaknesses in strategy you see in battle that you think is obvious to our foes in the future.

4. Naturally, this will be done in Open style due to the fact that this tournament is of that style.

5. I'll get Bregan to sorta semi-judge this for us both. Any questions on your proformance, you've got my AIM, give me a shout out.

6. We will be fighting...HERE!: A modern city, completely ravaged by some unknown force. Dead lay about, fires blaze everywhere, and none but our characters and yours are alive in the city. Vehicles and the such line the shattered streets, burning patches of grass sporadically placed across the landscape.

Right, so I'll edit in a link to my character's bio after I post it. You've first intro post. Have at it.


EDIT: DUN DUN DUUUUUUN! http://www.animechatforums.com/forum/vi ... 395#117395 (http://www.animechatforums.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=117395#117395)

[Skye]

Rooster crested dawn, though there were no roosters, spread over the devestated landscape, revealing to all the heaps of rotting corpses and blockades of burning vehicles. Dekar slowly made his way through the wreckage, stepping aside the necro-parasites amassing before the bodies, forcing his way to his destination.

And before him lie his opponent, or the faint silhouette that appeared as him; light build, height to match Dekar's, and overall the same physique. But there was something odd about this one, something unnoticable at such a distance. Perhaps it was the "stretched" condition of his muscles... Was this what he looked like as well?

He found a firm standing in the ground, digging his heels into the barren earth to steady himself as his powers rose; cobalt tendrils dancing about his arms, hands, practically his entire form. In a brief moment the spasm was over, each small strand of light receeding into his being again.

As the figure neared the "odd" traits became obvious: his large eyes, misshaped ears, and again the unearthly build so like his own. And then there was his peculiar choice of clothing, a tight fitted blue costume. He highly doubted his own robe fit too well with the populace, but what did it matter? The citizens in this region had been decimated by some unknown force.

The man approached in quick, steady strides, eyes fixated on Dekar, who took assurance in his footing and raised his hands in a defensive manner. Lapsing back into the recesses of his mind, a sort of preparation for the battle-to-come, the flame-like waves of chi sprouted about him again, catching and swaying with the wind. In his mind it was all he could see, the approaching figure of his opponent.

Opening his eyes and leaning towards the man, he prepared himself physically, readying his staff mentally if it was so needed. He's not human, he thought aloud, noting the before sighted features.

[Limitless]

Retched, disgusting stench of rotting flesh wafted through the air, sickly sweet foulness even tasted as a slight change of air currents introduced the foul presence to the awaiting and poorly prepared taste buds within the blond mutant’s mouth. A horrid, slick, revolting layer of saliva coated the youth’s tongue, as if the death of this place had intermingled with the fear and horror he felt in this ravaged landscape to coalesce into a slimy film of pure revulsion.

Almond spheres of obsidian took in the horrific scene before him, Christopher’s mind processing it all with an eerie, detached indifference. The past three years spent at the sides of his current comrades, the new generation of X-Men, Christopher Mann, lacking any impressive, altruistic or even just a fitting code name, had never seen the pure, appalling destruction the likes of which now stretched as far as the eye could see.

Corpses; burning, roasting, dismembered, dismantled, contorted, broken, shattered human individuals littering the paved streets, patches of concrete repulsively slick with ungodly amounts of crimson bodily fluids. Torn flesh splattered and dried to what was left of chare blackened buildings barely left standing, muscle tissue littering the sidewalks, sundered appendages disorderly strewn about in the street, entrails still dripping with bodily fluids draped from light posts and flag poles alike.

It was as forlorn a place as the traumatized 20 year old had ever seen, as if some demonic fiend had destroyed the city and eaten it’s entire populace before throwing up across it’s entirety, dead sprawled helplessly everyone one looked.

The previously undisturbed young man, as if suddenly coming to the realization of what was disorderly arranged before him, let out a bellowing scream, more of a howl than anything else, so lanced with hysterical anguish and unadulterated horror that it threatened to halt the heart and freeze one’s bones through and through, it’s ferociousness bordering on insanity for long moments before the acrobatic warrior fell helplessly to his knees, landing in a sickening splash of gore to release the bile rising up in his now coarse, ragged esophagus, purging the entire contents of his stomach into the vacant face of some ill-fated soul, damage so extensive to the being it’s sex was undeterminable. Tears streaked through the slight mask of grim sticking to his unnaturally pale skin, panicked sweat acting like some sort of adhesive, small rivers of remorseful liquid falling uncontrollably as Christopher slumped, weeping completely unchecked.

For long minutes the boy sobbed, pain and grief at the death of so many ever, let alone at one time in one place, and self loathing at not being able to stop such a mass slaughter intermingling into a solution so pitifully mournful that the earth felt ready to join in his suffering.

But then, slowly, it changed. Gradually, as if creeping up from Hell itself, snaking through the Earth’s crust to strike upwards, twisting, contorting about the mutant’s form before seeping into every fiber of his being, invading his body through the very pores of his skin, a rage unlike anything he had ever felt struck the young man, so intense an anger, so savage and uncontrollable a fury that, in the very back portions of Christopher’s mind he imagined Wolverine’s terrifying Berserker Rages must feel something like this.

Standing with undeniable purpose the blond haired X-Man looked right ahead, eyes of obsidian now appearing as if all the hatred and wrath of Lucifer himself now resided in those two almond shaped orbs, the lanky warrior set off at a quick walk, some undeniable instinct telling him that ahead would be someone, and the only person left alive in this place had to be the tainted, malevolent soul who had done this.

And, as if on some sort of mockingly anticlimactic cue, a figure became barely visible far ahead, standing his ground and apparently peering this way.

It was so instantaneous that the reaction could only be attributed to instinct rather than any sort of conscious thought, so sudden and forcefully did the hero throw himself forward, forcing his legs to work more laboriously than ever before, fueled by some supernatural power fed to him through a connection previously unavailable.

Within seconds the distance between the two warriors had been eaten away to near nothingness, the ferocious, enraged mutant’s teeth clinched tight in intense hatred as he came within the last two yards of ground between himself and this horrific being before him.

Eyes clouded, blinded by hate squinted, lips curling back into a snarl befitting the feral form he had not yet taken on as Christopher Mann, the azure and black garbed warrior, leapt forward with the superbly uncanny alacrity attributed him by his X-Gene, throwing all his momentum and body weight into a massive surge of muscles, shooting himself forward in an attempt to spear his foe with all the super speed and strength held within his frame and bare the fiend before him to the ground where he could beat the bastard into bloody shreds befitting the carnage he had wrought the hapless beings of this city…

[Skye]

On it came, this otherworldly being, blonde hair thrown back, black eyes fixated on Dekar, body arranged as if to run straight over him. In an instant he found himself thrown to the ground, a last resort as he was caught off guard, thrown onto the blood soaked pavement, friction pulling and tearing at his exposed flesh. He scurried to his feet before the creature could attack again, gathering the few mental words he viewed neccessary.

And, in correlation with the manifestation of thought, the chi rose again, flames of cobalt and azure caught in the wind. It was more of a passive act, or so he told himself. The growing flames would intimidate only the likes of the inexperienced, which, unfortunately for him, wasn't this... thing. However, they served a dual purpose in that it was a mental invocation drawing forth the spirits and tugging at the fabrics of reality. He took a quick step backwards, the magicks of the invoked playing upon his body, quickening his reflexes and actions.

His muscles tensed as the unseen force poured throughout his body, abstract waves rejuvenating the organs and tissue to a previously unknown state of haste, each doing its part to aid his movements. The flames died down, retreating into the safe depths of his mind leaving the slightest visible signs of their existence: small tendrils played about his fingertips, dancing and twisting about each digit as he prepared himself for a possible attack.

The small deposits of energy tucked themselves into his palms giving way to an entirely new form, a non-materialistic staff emerging from the areas, igniting in a brilliantly bright illumination of the compiling energies. The two colors mingled in the center to form a sort of grip upon its surface, a safe point on which to place his hands. He took a firm grip with his left and brought the weapon to his side, the small gusts of wind flaming the edges into sporadic spasms about the object.

Again he found a solid stance, digging his heels into the earth, gently kicking a severed limb aside to do so, shifting his weight forward, and bringing his right shoulder down. In the brief moment that followed it became hideously clear that this was no human, as was in agreement with any preconceptions.

Could it be he who did this?

"What business have you with me, foul creature?"