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/me bites into a pepper.
IRON CHEF TO COMPETITORS PADDOCK!
The venue will be the Iron Shef arena, with me as the anime villian looking guy. ;D
IRON CHEF TO COMPETITORS PADDOCK!
The venue will be the Iron Shef arena, with me as the anime villian looking guy. ;D
Arthos stood at his Station in the Iron Chef Competition.
He was a truely Iron Chef.......or rather had Titanium arms(Molded and shapped to not only human, but shiny) and a replacement Right eye that can scan a human body for weaknesses. such as cracked bones. The Pupil was red with tiny circuits running all acrossed the eye. On the face over the same eye was a long scar going up just above his eyebrow and all the way down through his Goatee to his chin, slightly overlapping his lips on their very edge. His jet black hair shined slightly. His face clearly of Italian origin with other small influences. He towered at about 6'4. On a Coat rack nearby hung his trench coat. Arthos was wearing a suit, a nice suit. A Speckled Grey italian and one of many. His suit jacket was also on the coat rack, and his dress shirt had it's sleeves roled up and the Tie loose with the top 3 buttons undone.
His station was one of those flat hot surface things that the Chefs in some Asian restaurants prepare your food right in front of you. He was leaned over it with his big metal hands holding him up. His view was torward Engar. The Surface was hot.....and to the shock of the crowd, Arthos felt no pain. Truely intimdating.
His Deep stern voice would probably cause many to avoid a fight all together.
"Normally I would talk trash.....but when the outcome is pretty much decided and I look THIS GOOD....There would be no point. Prepare to Face me Engar."
He was a truely Iron Chef.......or rather had Titanium arms(Molded and shapped to not only human, but shiny) and a replacement Right eye that can scan a human body for weaknesses. such as cracked bones. The Pupil was red with tiny circuits running all acrossed the eye. On the face over the same eye was a long scar going up just above his eyebrow and all the way down through his Goatee to his chin, slightly overlapping his lips on their very edge. His jet black hair shined slightly. His face clearly of Italian origin with other small influences. He towered at about 6'4. On a Coat rack nearby hung his trench coat. Arthos was wearing a suit, a nice suit. A Speckled Grey italian and one of many. His suit jacket was also on the coat rack, and his dress shirt had it's sleeves roled up and the Tie loose with the top 3 buttons undone.
His station was one of those flat hot surface things that the Chefs in some Asian restaurants prepare your food right in front of you. He was leaned over it with his big metal hands holding him up. His view was torward Engar. The Surface was hot.....and to the shock of the crowd, Arthos felt no pain. Truely intimdating.
His Deep stern voice would probably cause many to avoid a fight all together.
"Normally I would talk trash.....but when the outcome is pretty much decided and I look THIS GOOD....There would be no point. Prepare to Face me Engar."
( It would help if I knew what Iron Chef was. Oh well, might as well wing it. 
)
Engar was a slightly less intimidating sight; wearing a vest that could only be called white as the stains were a little too light for it to be black and a pair of dark blue jeans that were only remarkable in that they bore not one single stain whatsoever.
The face out of which Engar saw the world was on the other side of middle-aged, that wiry hardness that few truely capture but those that do can hold onto for years. His skin was wrinkled and scars criss-crossed arcross his face so many times that it was amazing that he still had his eyes and lips and his black hair - flecked with grey - was only gradually losing the battle with age.
His height was hard to guess, he had a way of lounging that put people in mind of a tall man but if measured he would probably come out as a hair under 5,9. The shape of his face and the five o'clock shadow gracing his chin made him look like an old soldier from the British Empire and he'd probably find his heritige somewhere around there though that would just be another way of avoiding letting anyone know where he came from.
His bare, scarred and tanned arms were cupped infront of his mouth, a flame licking from one single match and onto a dark brown cigarette.
Then, with the precise motions that can only be achieved through pure instinctual movement, his hand dropped to the cooker he was leaning against. There was a hiss of gas as the match touched down just under a darkened pot, then blue flames licked up underneath it.
His other hand held the cigarette delicately between his fingers even as Arthos spoke, with his eyes closed Engar breathed so deep his eyes watered then blew a dark cloud of smoke from his lips. Only then, as a smoke circle dispersed a few feet from his nose, did he open his eyes and regard his opponent.
"Very impressive, tin man. I'll skip the pre-chit-chat as well.."
Smirking, Engar pushed himself away from the counter then hesitated as if one last thought had caught him.
"Just one thing though, almost slipped my mind."
Engar grinned.
"Iron Chef you may be, but me? I'm a cook. If you don't know the difference at the start of this fight, I'll learn it to you by the end."
(Strange smack-talk, but now the fight begins.. You're up Arthos.)
) Engar was a slightly less intimidating sight; wearing a vest that could only be called white as the stains were a little too light for it to be black and a pair of dark blue jeans that were only remarkable in that they bore not one single stain whatsoever.
The face out of which Engar saw the world was on the other side of middle-aged, that wiry hardness that few truely capture but those that do can hold onto for years. His skin was wrinkled and scars criss-crossed arcross his face so many times that it was amazing that he still had his eyes and lips and his black hair - flecked with grey - was only gradually losing the battle with age.
His height was hard to guess, he had a way of lounging that put people in mind of a tall man but if measured he would probably come out as a hair under 5,9. The shape of his face and the five o'clock shadow gracing his chin made him look like an old soldier from the British Empire and he'd probably find his heritige somewhere around there though that would just be another way of avoiding letting anyone know where he came from.
His bare, scarred and tanned arms were cupped infront of his mouth, a flame licking from one single match and onto a dark brown cigarette.
Then, with the precise motions that can only be achieved through pure instinctual movement, his hand dropped to the cooker he was leaning against. There was a hiss of gas as the match touched down just under a darkened pot, then blue flames licked up underneath it.
His other hand held the cigarette delicately between his fingers even as Arthos spoke, with his eyes closed Engar breathed so deep his eyes watered then blew a dark cloud of smoke from his lips. Only then, as a smoke circle dispersed a few feet from his nose, did he open his eyes and regard his opponent.
"Very impressive, tin man. I'll skip the pre-chit-chat as well.."
Smirking, Engar pushed himself away from the counter then hesitated as if one last thought had caught him.
"Just one thing though, almost slipped my mind."
Engar grinned.
"Iron Chef you may be, but me? I'm a cook. If you don't know the difference at the start of this fight, I'll learn it to you by the end."
(Strange smack-talk, but now the fight begins.. You're up Arthos.)
OOC: my Smack talk was just a show of Pure Arrogance.
Arthos stood up, supporting his own weight on his 2 feet.
"Tinman........no sir! I don't like it!"(Like the Horse from Ren & Stimpy)
He picked up a spatula.....but then placed it back where he got it. Then he turned his cooking surface off.
"Unfortunately for you this conflict has nothing to do with our Cullinary skills."
Arthos fanned out his right hand, raised that, and a throwning knife popped out, and was coveniantly grabbed by that hand. He Immediately, slashed it downward, then threw it straight at Engar. Engar was able to escape the path of the small weapon....but barely. Arthos picked up a delicious Italian sub that he had cut in half with the throwing knife. He handed it to the host.
Arthos immediately attacked Engar. His style was a bizarre form of Drunken Kung Fu........we will later know this style as "Acid Fu." Engar was able to avoid ever blow and vice versa for Arthos.
Arthos landed a huge jab straight across Engar's forhead. This caused the cigarette that was still in his mouth to get thrown out, landing on the floor and going out....still smoldering slightly. Also there was a massive metallic clang. Engar, surprisingly, quickly recovered and attempted to flip Arthos on the way down. No dice, but he did manage to roll, bring himself to a standing position in the same motion. Arthos grabbed him from the back of his shirt and threw him torward his own cooking surface, which was still slightly hot. Engar landed short in a heavy thud.
Arthos approached the grounded Engar(whom had turned the heat back on for the cooking surface.) who suddenly sprung up and grabbed Arthos, then slammed his face down on the white hot heating surface.
Though he quickly broke free, the damage was done. Arthos' left cheek was smoldering and burnt. He let out a deep yell, and stepped back, holding the cheek with a torn peice of his shirt. It had begun to bleed.
OOC: GO for it Engar, though I obviously left some damage on ya, few things hurt more than a burn.
Arthos stood up, supporting his own weight on his 2 feet.
"Tinman........no sir! I don't like it!"(Like the Horse from Ren & Stimpy)
He picked up a spatula.....but then placed it back where he got it. Then he turned his cooking surface off.
"Unfortunately for you this conflict has nothing to do with our Cullinary skills."
Arthos fanned out his right hand, raised that, and a throwning knife popped out, and was coveniantly grabbed by that hand. He Immediately, slashed it downward, then threw it straight at Engar. Engar was able to escape the path of the small weapon....but barely. Arthos picked up a delicious Italian sub that he had cut in half with the throwing knife. He handed it to the host.
Arthos immediately attacked Engar. His style was a bizarre form of Drunken Kung Fu........we will later know this style as "Acid Fu." Engar was able to avoid ever blow and vice versa for Arthos.
Arthos landed a huge jab straight across Engar's forhead. This caused the cigarette that was still in his mouth to get thrown out, landing on the floor and going out....still smoldering slightly. Also there was a massive metallic clang. Engar, surprisingly, quickly recovered and attempted to flip Arthos on the way down. No dice, but he did manage to roll, bring himself to a standing position in the same motion. Arthos grabbed him from the back of his shirt and threw him torward his own cooking surface, which was still slightly hot. Engar landed short in a heavy thud.
Arthos approached the grounded Engar(whom had turned the heat back on for the cooking surface.) who suddenly sprung up and grabbed Arthos, then slammed his face down on the white hot heating surface.
Though he quickly broke free, the damage was done. Arthos' left cheek was smoldering and burnt. He let out a deep yell, and stepped back, holding the cheek with a torn peice of his shirt. It had begun to bleed.
OOC: GO for it Engar, though I obviously left some damage on ya, few things hurt more than a burn.
OOC:*sigh* Gimme a sec
Cigarrette smoke trailing behind him, Engar ran forwards with wide spread arms trying to grab Arthos around the midsection without giving him a way of escape. Seeing no alternative, Arthos shuffled one foot back and Engar's hands in his own and skidded back a bit as Engar came to a halt.
"What do you think you're talking about?" asked Arthos as they stared into each other's eyes (metallic or otherwise), "Cook or chef, what does that mean?"
His metal arms began pushing Engar backwards, his legs taking slow, measured steps as the older man was forced to stumble back in the face of the greater strength. Desperate to maintain balance, broke one arm free and brought it down on the metal man's chest in a thud that was made no more impressive from the fact that Arthos ignored it, brought his head down on Engar's then grabbed the dazed man by the vest and literally lifted him of his feet, flinging him against Arthos' own counter.
Engar groaned and spat a little blood out onto the ground, the cigarrete flying away accidently and landing smouldering between the two, then pushed himself back onto his feet and stretched out the sore limbs before leaning back against the cooling counter which he quickly and calmly turned on.
"As I was saying, tin man," Engar brought one foot up and pressed it against the counter to prevent himself from falling over, "Theres a difference between a cook and a chef.." he trailed off and glanced at the floor as if lost in thought, then a second later kicked off the counter into a flying leap which ended with him landing on his hands, flipping over through the momentum, and kicking out heavily with both feet which connected solidly between Arthos' knee and shin and knocked him off his legs.
As the warrior of flesh and metal clanged to the floor Engar rocked back on his thin and boney arms that hid much strength and flipped onto his feet while one hand snatch at a thin cylinder that rested on the ground. He gazed disparingly at the little cigarrette but it was too late, the smouldering had dimmed and no amount of coercing could bring it back to life.
Engar tucked it securely behind his ear with one hand while the other managed to fend of Arthos who was back on his feet and only stumbling slightly from the pain in his legs. Bringing his free hand up he knocked away one fist, then swinging it around he deflected the other while backing away. The blows kept coming, though now using both hands Engar found it hard to keep up as the metal arms continued a steady stream of swings. Blocking made his fists ache, deflecting was turning his arms numb and the constant stepping back was only bringing him back to Arthos' side.
Definately feeling he had had enough, Engar waited until the next fist was flying forwards and tried to grab at it. This blow was a feint though, it succeeded in distracting him from Arthos' right hand which was already burning through the air. The blow caught him just under his ribs, hooking up in a way that made Engar feel something snap deep inside; he fell backwards more out of self-defence than anything else and bounced against the side of the counter once again.
Against the deep pain inside, Engar could hear a peculiar beeping.
"Two ribs have been broken, there is some internal bleeding but nothing so severe as to prevent you from fighting. At the moment."
The beeping stopped.
"Care to give up?"
Shunting the pain aside, Engar stood up and smirked.
"Just as soon as you tell me whats the difference between a cook and a chef."
He twisted around and pushed himself up onto the cooking surface, apparantly ignoring the heat on his fingers, then turned and grinned evily at Arthos.
"Well?"
"Your boots are going to catch fire."
"So?"
Arthos blinked and that was when Engar moved, leaping into the air in a twirling motion with both legs swinging wildly as he plummeted towards Arthos. As he twirled, like some giant evil corkscrew, his feet straightened out and both boots smacked Arthos in the side of his face right where Engar had burned him before. The end result was, as Arthos rocked backwards and Engar landed crouched on smoking feet, that Arthos recieved two more burns on top of his previous one.
On top of this, as Engar straightened up and strode away from his opponent, he was approaching his own side of the room. His body shook as he moved, only slightly as he was watching himself, but there was pain there that made his movements unsteady. A bruise was showing up on his forehead from the head but and on top of blistering feet he could feel a knife like jab deep inside of him, the constant jumping about wasn't helping.
But he'd be damned if he'd let a tin man know he was hurting.
Engar reached behind his ear and grabbed the cigarrette where it was sitting nice and snug. He brought it down under his cooking pot, bubbling now, and lit the cigarrette easily. Then he guided it back to his lips and took a deep, eye-watering draw. The shaking grew a little more controlable.
Then he glanced at Arthos who was eyeing him calmly, assessing the damage that had been done. Engar chuckled and reached down to stir his pot, more for effect than anything else.
"Tin man, the differences between a cook and a chef go far beyond the way they prepare meals. So what's the difference, little toy soldier?"
He was a ****y son of a ***** and he knew it.
Engar took another deep puff.
He knew it and he liked it.
OOC: I might be wrong but thats 3 hits to 3 by my count but I may be wrong.. Sorry about the confusion there, mix of tiredness and plain stupidity. I've editted it to the extent that it isn't a continuation, a free standing thing, but left most of that which was intact. Apologies again..
Cigarrette smoke trailing behind him, Engar ran forwards with wide spread arms trying to grab Arthos around the midsection without giving him a way of escape. Seeing no alternative, Arthos shuffled one foot back and Engar's hands in his own and skidded back a bit as Engar came to a halt.
"What do you think you're talking about?" asked Arthos as they stared into each other's eyes (metallic or otherwise), "Cook or chef, what does that mean?"
His metal arms began pushing Engar backwards, his legs taking slow, measured steps as the older man was forced to stumble back in the face of the greater strength. Desperate to maintain balance, broke one arm free and brought it down on the metal man's chest in a thud that was made no more impressive from the fact that Arthos ignored it, brought his head down on Engar's then grabbed the dazed man by the vest and literally lifted him of his feet, flinging him against Arthos' own counter.
Engar groaned and spat a little blood out onto the ground, the cigarrete flying away accidently and landing smouldering between the two, then pushed himself back onto his feet and stretched out the sore limbs before leaning back against the cooling counter which he quickly and calmly turned on.
"As I was saying, tin man," Engar brought one foot up and pressed it against the counter to prevent himself from falling over, "Theres a difference between a cook and a chef.." he trailed off and glanced at the floor as if lost in thought, then a second later kicked off the counter into a flying leap which ended with him landing on his hands, flipping over through the momentum, and kicking out heavily with both feet which connected solidly between Arthos' knee and shin and knocked him off his legs.
As the warrior of flesh and metal clanged to the floor Engar rocked back on his thin and boney arms that hid much strength and flipped onto his feet while one hand snatch at a thin cylinder that rested on the ground. He gazed disparingly at the little cigarrette but it was too late, the smouldering had dimmed and no amount of coercing could bring it back to life.
Engar tucked it securely behind his ear with one hand while the other managed to fend of Arthos who was back on his feet and only stumbling slightly from the pain in his legs. Bringing his free hand up he knocked away one fist, then swinging it around he deflected the other while backing away. The blows kept coming, though now using both hands Engar found it hard to keep up as the metal arms continued a steady stream of swings. Blocking made his fists ache, deflecting was turning his arms numb and the constant stepping back was only bringing him back to Arthos' side.
Definately feeling he had had enough, Engar waited until the next fist was flying forwards and tried to grab at it. This blow was a feint though, it succeeded in distracting him from Arthos' right hand which was already burning through the air. The blow caught him just under his ribs, hooking up in a way that made Engar feel something snap deep inside; he fell backwards more out of self-defence than anything else and bounced against the side of the counter once again.
Against the deep pain inside, Engar could hear a peculiar beeping.
"Two ribs have been broken, there is some internal bleeding but nothing so severe as to prevent you from fighting. At the moment."
The beeping stopped.
"Care to give up?"
Shunting the pain aside, Engar stood up and smirked.
"Just as soon as you tell me whats the difference between a cook and a chef."
He twisted around and pushed himself up onto the cooking surface, apparantly ignoring the heat on his fingers, then turned and grinned evily at Arthos.
"Well?"
"Your boots are going to catch fire."
"So?"
Arthos blinked and that was when Engar moved, leaping into the air in a twirling motion with both legs swinging wildly as he plummeted towards Arthos. As he twirled, like some giant evil corkscrew, his feet straightened out and both boots smacked Arthos in the side of his face right where Engar had burned him before. The end result was, as Arthos rocked backwards and Engar landed crouched on smoking feet, that Arthos recieved two more burns on top of his previous one.
On top of this, as Engar straightened up and strode away from his opponent, he was approaching his own side of the room. His body shook as he moved, only slightly as he was watching himself, but there was pain there that made his movements unsteady. A bruise was showing up on his forehead from the head but and on top of blistering feet he could feel a knife like jab deep inside of him, the constant jumping about wasn't helping.
But he'd be damned if he'd let a tin man know he was hurting.
Engar reached behind his ear and grabbed the cigarrette where it was sitting nice and snug. He brought it down under his cooking pot, bubbling now, and lit the cigarrette easily. Then he guided it back to his lips and took a deep, eye-watering draw. The shaking grew a little more controlable.
Then he glanced at Arthos who was eyeing him calmly, assessing the damage that had been done. Engar chuckled and reached down to stir his pot, more for effect than anything else.
"Tin man, the differences between a cook and a chef go far beyond the way they prepare meals. So what's the difference, little toy soldier?"
He was a ****y son of a ***** and he knew it.
Engar took another deep puff.
He knew it and he liked it.
OOC: I might be wrong but thats 3 hits to 3 by my count but I may be wrong.. Sorry about the confusion there, mix of tiredness and plain stupidity. I've editted it to the extent that it isn't a continuation, a free standing thing, but left most of that which was intact. Apologies again..
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
You don't continue off one another untill the round is judged. The begining of the next round, both combatants continue off the previous win. Engar would you mind modifying yours to conform with the rule?
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
Still using events from Arthos' post. I'll give the round to Arthos on a technicallity, though you will write as though Arthos' post happened for round two. [/confusion]
OOC: Ooookay, Round One was just a great big screw-up on my part. Lets see if I cant wip up something worthy for Round Two..
Gripping the sizzling counter gingerly with his bare fingers, Engar heaved himself to his feet with a groan and eyed the 'tin man' cautiously. As he sucked on one of his fingers Engar took in the bare damage that had been caused already, just a burn on the cheek really but that looked promising.
For himself the blow to the head and the recent bouncing around was giving him a slightly dizzier view of the world and the side that had banged against the ground was beginning to complain. Putting the problems aside for a moment, Engar gripped the first thing his probing left hand could find and lunged forwards.
As Arthos sidestepped to the left and right, his head ducking slightly when the spatula came too close for comfort, Engar attacked like a fencer and kept on stepping forwards. After reaching the middle of the room Arthos snapped a metal arm around in annoyance, the spatula flipping backwards out of his hand, but only narrowly avoided Engar's right hook which whizzed past his nose.
With the added space made as Arthos stepped back again Engar used the momentum of the punch, his body twisting right around and his left leg straightening out as he reached 180 degrees and catching Arthos directly in the chest.
This blow sent Arthos toppling backwards, not actually hitting Engar's own cooking surface but coming close enough to rest his head against it. Engar meanwhile, his cool arrogance returning, drew up his fallen cigarrete and - having come too late to resurrect it by himself - crumpled it into a tiny ball and hurled it behind him.
"Wakey, wakey tin man."
Arthos blinked and opened his eyes, the metallic one focussing in on Engar in an oddly disturbing move. If Engar had been paying attention, had his head not been throbbing from the headache that was beginning to build up - he might have noticed the way that eye seemed to focus on his left arm in particular.
The metal man stood up easily, rubbing at his chest, and took a step forwards. His hands stretched out away from his body, his legs croutched slightly, and nodded at Engar.
"Fight me."
Engar rubbed his head and smirked, over confident and pained.
"Whatever you say, tin man."
He took a step forwards and twisted thrust out his right leg in a solid kick at Arthos' head. Arthos steped backwards, his arms pinwheeling gracefully into the foots path, grabbing it and rocking back easily before twisting it between both hands. Engar kicked off the ground and twisted with it, landing flat on his face but rolling forwards onto his feet before his position could be used against him. Arthos hadn't moved, this puzzled Engar but he didn't waste any time worrying about it.
Darting forwards, Engar brought his left fist swinging upwards but Arthos ducked to the right in a graceful and slow movement that took him out of the path of the fist, he thrust out his hand palm open at Arthos' chest but the metal armed warrior seemed to bend as he caught the fist to accomodate the force Engar put into the blow, to negate it.
Stepping backwards, frustrated, Engar tried to understand what it was that Arthos was doing. The technique was foreign to him, he didn't understand it and it was beginning to get on his nerves.
Throwing caution to the wind, Engar ran straight at him with his arms opened outwards to prevent any fancy moving. Again Arthos moved in that graceful swinging way, his back bending backwards and his left leg moving back to compensate for it as he caught Engar around the midsection and lifted him clean over Arthos.
He just managed to turn the movement into a spin, his feet catching the edge of his own work surface and, for a few seconds, it looked as if he would fall backwards. Regaining his balance - and carefully avoiding his bubbling pot - Engar turned and glared down at Arthos.
"Pretty good, but dont think I'm done yet."
Engar dropped lightly to the ground, wincing slightly as he landed, then turned and removed the lid from the pot. Slowly, with immeasurable caution, he pulled open a drawer, selected a large metal ladle and, almost reverently, dipped it into the pot. He took it out and slowly, gently blowed the steam away from the bubbling surface and finally took a sip.
Sighing, he shoved the ladle back in the drawer.
"Would you believe it?" he turned to look dispairingly at Arthos, "I left it on too long.."
Ignoring the pain, Engar grabbed the pot by the handles and swung it around, emptying the boiling contents directly onto Arthos who could only raise his arms in shock as it poured over him. The pain must have been quite incredible, it certainly would have explained why Engar was grinning so much.
"Nice and hot, just the way I like it."
Arthos glared at him, a flame burning brightly in one eye and a cold metallic stare from the other. Engar did his best to ignore the first, but the way the metallic one was still staring at his left arm was beginning to bug him.
"Time to end this!" Engar ran forwards, his left arm coming around with the knife he had selected from the drawer, and dived at Arthos. Unfortunately Arthos brought one of his metal arms up in the last second, the knife skittering harmlessly along it before leaping from his hand, and grabbed hold of Engar's arm by the wrist. Then, with surgical precision, Arthos brought his other hand down on Engar's left arm in a chopping movement.
There was a strange cracking noise and the whole of his arm suddenly seemed to be on fire.
"Son of a.." Engar backed away, Arthos releasing him carelessly, and cradled his arm with tears forming in his eyes, "What the hell did you do?!"
"The bone was fractured slightly, an old wound that never properly healed. I broke your left arm."
Wincing and swearing, Engar took another step backwards and raised his right hand, his left arm banging uselessly by his side.
"Don't think this is over Tin Man, I'm right handed and I'll only need the one to beat the likes of you!"
OOC: I like that one a lot more, I think I'm getting the hang of fighintg. Over to you Arthos, good luck to you.
Gripping the sizzling counter gingerly with his bare fingers, Engar heaved himself to his feet with a groan and eyed the 'tin man' cautiously. As he sucked on one of his fingers Engar took in the bare damage that had been caused already, just a burn on the cheek really but that looked promising.
For himself the blow to the head and the recent bouncing around was giving him a slightly dizzier view of the world and the side that had banged against the ground was beginning to complain. Putting the problems aside for a moment, Engar gripped the first thing his probing left hand could find and lunged forwards.
As Arthos sidestepped to the left and right, his head ducking slightly when the spatula came too close for comfort, Engar attacked like a fencer and kept on stepping forwards. After reaching the middle of the room Arthos snapped a metal arm around in annoyance, the spatula flipping backwards out of his hand, but only narrowly avoided Engar's right hook which whizzed past his nose.
With the added space made as Arthos stepped back again Engar used the momentum of the punch, his body twisting right around and his left leg straightening out as he reached 180 degrees and catching Arthos directly in the chest.
This blow sent Arthos toppling backwards, not actually hitting Engar's own cooking surface but coming close enough to rest his head against it. Engar meanwhile, his cool arrogance returning, drew up his fallen cigarrete and - having come too late to resurrect it by himself - crumpled it into a tiny ball and hurled it behind him.
"Wakey, wakey tin man."
Arthos blinked and opened his eyes, the metallic one focussing in on Engar in an oddly disturbing move. If Engar had been paying attention, had his head not been throbbing from the headache that was beginning to build up - he might have noticed the way that eye seemed to focus on his left arm in particular.
The metal man stood up easily, rubbing at his chest, and took a step forwards. His hands stretched out away from his body, his legs croutched slightly, and nodded at Engar.
"Fight me."
Engar rubbed his head and smirked, over confident and pained.
"Whatever you say, tin man."
He took a step forwards and twisted thrust out his right leg in a solid kick at Arthos' head. Arthos steped backwards, his arms pinwheeling gracefully into the foots path, grabbing it and rocking back easily before twisting it between both hands. Engar kicked off the ground and twisted with it, landing flat on his face but rolling forwards onto his feet before his position could be used against him. Arthos hadn't moved, this puzzled Engar but he didn't waste any time worrying about it.
Darting forwards, Engar brought his left fist swinging upwards but Arthos ducked to the right in a graceful and slow movement that took him out of the path of the fist, he thrust out his hand palm open at Arthos' chest but the metal armed warrior seemed to bend as he caught the fist to accomodate the force Engar put into the blow, to negate it.
Stepping backwards, frustrated, Engar tried to understand what it was that Arthos was doing. The technique was foreign to him, he didn't understand it and it was beginning to get on his nerves.
Throwing caution to the wind, Engar ran straight at him with his arms opened outwards to prevent any fancy moving. Again Arthos moved in that graceful swinging way, his back bending backwards and his left leg moving back to compensate for it as he caught Engar around the midsection and lifted him clean over Arthos.
He just managed to turn the movement into a spin, his feet catching the edge of his own work surface and, for a few seconds, it looked as if he would fall backwards. Regaining his balance - and carefully avoiding his bubbling pot - Engar turned and glared down at Arthos.
"Pretty good, but dont think I'm done yet."
Engar dropped lightly to the ground, wincing slightly as he landed, then turned and removed the lid from the pot. Slowly, with immeasurable caution, he pulled open a drawer, selected a large metal ladle and, almost reverently, dipped it into the pot. He took it out and slowly, gently blowed the steam away from the bubbling surface and finally took a sip.
Sighing, he shoved the ladle back in the drawer.
"Would you believe it?" he turned to look dispairingly at Arthos, "I left it on too long.."
Ignoring the pain, Engar grabbed the pot by the handles and swung it around, emptying the boiling contents directly onto Arthos who could only raise his arms in shock as it poured over him. The pain must have been quite incredible, it certainly would have explained why Engar was grinning so much.
"Nice and hot, just the way I like it."
Arthos glared at him, a flame burning brightly in one eye and a cold metallic stare from the other. Engar did his best to ignore the first, but the way the metallic one was still staring at his left arm was beginning to bug him.
"Time to end this!" Engar ran forwards, his left arm coming around with the knife he had selected from the drawer, and dived at Arthos. Unfortunately Arthos brought one of his metal arms up in the last second, the knife skittering harmlessly along it before leaping from his hand, and grabbed hold of Engar's arm by the wrist. Then, with surgical precision, Arthos brought his other hand down on Engar's left arm in a chopping movement.
There was a strange cracking noise and the whole of his arm suddenly seemed to be on fire.
"Son of a.." Engar backed away, Arthos releasing him carelessly, and cradled his arm with tears forming in his eyes, "What the hell did you do?!"
"The bone was fractured slightly, an old wound that never properly healed. I broke your left arm."
Wincing and swearing, Engar took another step backwards and raised his right hand, his left arm banging uselessly by his side.
"Don't think this is over Tin Man, I'm right handed and I'll only need the one to beat the likes of you!"
OOC: I like that one a lot more, I think I'm getting the hang of fighintg. Over to you Arthos, good luck to you.
Don't want to appear to be ressurrecting a thread but..Arthos said:
I completely understand Arthos, I made such a mess of the first round that it'd be stupid to disqualify you over missing the deadline. As long as its ok with Cucumba I'll glady wait until you're ready to continue.
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
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I am fine with allowing the match to continue.