Scruffie
S
Guest
I accept your challenge Engar, and believe you me, you're going to regret challenging the Scruff.
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
Original Forum Fan Fic Alumni UNITE!
I will referee this contest for the best of three rounds.
The venue will be the seedy backstreets of modelling.
I will referee this contest for the best of three rounds.
The venue will be the seedy backstreets of modelling.
So it's come down to this Scruffie, we may have been on the same side on Forum Fan-Fic 2 but don't think I'm going to take it easy. You've got all the aggression of a mop and thats good, cause I'm going to clean the floor with you!
(Yay for corny trash talking! P.S: Thanks for reffing Cucumba.)
(Yay for corny trash talking! P.S: Thanks for reffing Cucumba.)
Scruffie
S
Guest
If your fighting's as bad as your puns, it's a sure thing I'll win.
We've been on the same side in the past, our characters coming together to fight a common goal, but now I can put it off no longer. You're face just begs out to be punched, and I'll be happy to oblige.
After this is over, I'll force you to Hail to the Scruff. *revs chainsaw*
We've been on the same side in the past, our characters coming together to fight a common goal, but now I can put it off no longer. You're face just begs out to be punched, and I'll be happy to oblige.
After this is over, I'll force you to Hail to the Scruff. *revs chainsaw*
Engar steps cautiously through the darker parts of Modelling, not the safest of places to be. In the corner of his vision another thread appears, voices echoing around it, and innocently moves up the pecking order. He kept watching cautiously edging his way around it without giving the little thread any cause for alarm.
They were nice enough but anything could set them off.
Turning slightly to keep it in sight, Engar took a step backwards and bumped into something.
"Fancy meeting you here, Engar.."
He didn't turn, didn't try to talk; Engar dove straight forwards while the serrated chainsaw hummed through the air where his neck had been only moments before. Turning the dive into a roll, Engar turned but Scruffie was already out of sight.
"Well this is fun," he called out, spooking several threads away, "I'm unarmed!"
"Deal with it.." Scruffie replied, his voice echoing around the dark backstreets. Was one of those shadows darker than normal? The seedy inclosed surroundings weren't helping, the darkness loomed around him and the larger threads that hadn't left were still milling around. Wrong word and..
The younger thread from before, quite big for such a young one, skittered past him in fright.. going in the opposite direction of the others.
Again Engar moved before any real sign, the chainsaw clattering against the brickwork of the walls while Engar rolled into the alleyway the thread had dived into. He caught it with his bare hands, a risky procedure in the best of Forums, and slid his hand inside of the cloudy substance to the outraged vague murmurs.
"Can't keep running my friend."
The voice echoed around, taunting him, but he kept it out of his mind. Deeper inside the thread, he needed to discover the substance. Faster, under all the chatter, into the heart.. His hands closed around a smooth wooden handle.
Ah-hah!
As one hand slid gently out, Engar leaned down and closed his eyes.
"Hey, thats my Trunks model you thief!"
His unoccupied hand held the thread tightly, swinging it around through the alley mouth as the larger threads climbed over themselves to get out of the way.
"What the-?!?"
Even though his eyes were closed he could almost see the white hot light as the thread expanded, too filled with flames to continue existence, and exploded in a terrible shockwave that still barely affected the surrounding buildings. The walls here were built to withstand much worse.
Stepping out of the alley way, night vision maintained through closing his eyes, Engar found Scruffie down on one knee by a wall which showed severe denting even in the dark. The chainsaw hummed gently in his hands.
"Hit the wall hard?"
Scruffie looked up at his shadow wreathed opponent, lip bleeding profusely from where he had smacked into the bricks, but moved quicker than even Engar could have anticipated. His hands swung around in a blurring arc, the chainsaw roaring like a primal creature, and then took a step back.
He looked down at his left arm, Scruffie smirking mirthlessly as blood streaked down it from the gouge in Engar's shoulder. Then he looked up, arm on fire, and sighed.
"Guess I underestimated you."
Scruffie nodded and hefted the chainsaw,
"Certainly did, and now you pay for it!"
Swinging on his feet, he turned and heaved the chainsaw around in a fatal swing. But Engar was already moving, ignoring the pain as both arms rose up out of the shadows, bearing with them a gleaming shine that met the chainsaw in a sparking blast. Still moving, Engar twisted around - the gleam like fire as it caught the moonlight - and sliced at Scruffie's side.
As Scruffie clutched at the cut in his side, Engar stepped back and raised the sword in his hands in a jaunty salute. He twirled it around easily in his good hand, then caught Trunk's Sword in both hands and grinned.
"Not over yet!"
They were nice enough but anything could set them off.
Turning slightly to keep it in sight, Engar took a step backwards and bumped into something.
"Fancy meeting you here, Engar.."
He didn't turn, didn't try to talk; Engar dove straight forwards while the serrated chainsaw hummed through the air where his neck had been only moments before. Turning the dive into a roll, Engar turned but Scruffie was already out of sight.
"Well this is fun," he called out, spooking several threads away, "I'm unarmed!"
"Deal with it.." Scruffie replied, his voice echoing around the dark backstreets. Was one of those shadows darker than normal? The seedy inclosed surroundings weren't helping, the darkness loomed around him and the larger threads that hadn't left were still milling around. Wrong word and..
The younger thread from before, quite big for such a young one, skittered past him in fright.. going in the opposite direction of the others.
Again Engar moved before any real sign, the chainsaw clattering against the brickwork of the walls while Engar rolled into the alleyway the thread had dived into. He caught it with his bare hands, a risky procedure in the best of Forums, and slid his hand inside of the cloudy substance to the outraged vague murmurs.
"Can't keep running my friend."
The voice echoed around, taunting him, but he kept it out of his mind. Deeper inside the thread, he needed to discover the substance. Faster, under all the chatter, into the heart.. His hands closed around a smooth wooden handle.
Ah-hah!
As one hand slid gently out, Engar leaned down and closed his eyes.
"Hey, thats my Trunks model you thief!"
His unoccupied hand held the thread tightly, swinging it around through the alley mouth as the larger threads climbed over themselves to get out of the way.
"What the-?!?"
Even though his eyes were closed he could almost see the white hot light as the thread expanded, too filled with flames to continue existence, and exploded in a terrible shockwave that still barely affected the surrounding buildings. The walls here were built to withstand much worse.
Stepping out of the alley way, night vision maintained through closing his eyes, Engar found Scruffie down on one knee by a wall which showed severe denting even in the dark. The chainsaw hummed gently in his hands.
"Hit the wall hard?"
Scruffie looked up at his shadow wreathed opponent, lip bleeding profusely from where he had smacked into the bricks, but moved quicker than even Engar could have anticipated. His hands swung around in a blurring arc, the chainsaw roaring like a primal creature, and then took a step back.
He looked down at his left arm, Scruffie smirking mirthlessly as blood streaked down it from the gouge in Engar's shoulder. Then he looked up, arm on fire, and sighed.
"Guess I underestimated you."
Scruffie nodded and hefted the chainsaw,
"Certainly did, and now you pay for it!"
Swinging on his feet, he turned and heaved the chainsaw around in a fatal swing. But Engar was already moving, ignoring the pain as both arms rose up out of the shadows, bearing with them a gleaming shine that met the chainsaw in a sparking blast. Still moving, Engar twisted around - the gleam like fire as it caught the moonlight - and sliced at Scruffie's side.
As Scruffie clutched at the cut in his side, Engar stepped back and raised the sword in his hands in a jaunty salute. He twirled it around easily in his good hand, then caught Trunk's Sword in both hands and grinned.
"Not over yet!"
Scruffie
S
Guest
The bus doors hissed open, allowing Scruffie to step out onto the dimly lit streets. A few newbs ran out the bus, only half his size, their childish screams and shouts echoing through âModelling Streetâ, eager to check out the new models on offer, and doubly as eager to spam and flame everyone to high heavens. Scruffie hated the younger generation.
This particular part of âDevelopmentâ wasnât the best place to be at these hours (when all the weirdest of the newbs came out) but nowadays Scruffie wasnât scared of anything around the forums, considering he had recently adopted carrying a chainsaw on his belt and a shotgun on his back.
He had just arrived from the âOff-topic Squareâ pub, where he had downed a few pints before growing weary of the constant gibbering and gabbering going on around him.
The street was dotted with street lamps, some working, others not, which gave everyone and everything in them an eerie orange tint. Scruffie paused beneath one, and lit a cigarette as the lamp flickered overhead. He leaned on the post and let out a breath of smoke.
âAhh, these things will kill meâ¦â He said, pulling it out of his mouth and throwing it into the alley beside him.
âSo will I, Scruff.â A fist flew out of the alleyway, catching Scruffie completely unaware, and caught him straight on the chin. He staggered back, trying to entice his opponent out into the street, and the light.
âPretty corny joke Engarâ¦â He knew who it was. Heâd been anticipating something like this. Engar was still pretty angry with him for dropping out of FF3 so suddenly. Scruffie turned round to face Engar, who had stepped out into the light. âYouâve made better.â
âEnough talk Scruffie. Itâs time to settle this.â Engar cracked his knuckles, but there was something off in his stance that Scruffie couldnât place.
âI still donât see what there is to settle between us, but okay, Iâll do this.â Scruffie started to shake his shoulders and arms, loosening up for the fight.
Engar flew in first, his right fist ploughing through the night air. Scruffie grabbed it with two hands, just in front of his stomach. The next blow was to Scruffies face, which missed by a hair, as Scruffie pushed Engars right fist away and dodged to the left.
Rolling on the ground, Scruffie grabbed the Chainsaw off his belt and hastily pulled the chord; delighted to hear the chainsaws low hum. He leapt from his kneeling position at Engar, chainsaw stretched out. Engar moved slowly (too slowly for Engar Scruffie thought) and clumsily, and was unable to dodge the chainsaws fatal blade. It made contact, and with the blood curdling sound of metal on flesh and bone, lopped his left arm off at the elbow.
âYou--!â Scruffie cut him off as he swung his chainsaw up, the blunt side hitting his face, and sending him flying.
Engar slumped against the wall and struggled to get up, cradling his stump with his remaining arm. âY...Yâ¦â he stuttered, finding it hard to talk through his bruised and swollen jaw.
âThat fight was sloppy Engar.â He sniffed the air. âHmm, drunk, I guessed as much. Too much to drink in âCucâs Crotchâ (the name of the pub), eh?â Scruffie spat at the ground, and a small spot of blood hit the ground, still remaining from the first punch thrown. âCome on, pick yourself up⦠itâs time for round twoâ¦â
This particular part of âDevelopmentâ wasnât the best place to be at these hours (when all the weirdest of the newbs came out) but nowadays Scruffie wasnât scared of anything around the forums, considering he had recently adopted carrying a chainsaw on his belt and a shotgun on his back.
He had just arrived from the âOff-topic Squareâ pub, where he had downed a few pints before growing weary of the constant gibbering and gabbering going on around him.
The street was dotted with street lamps, some working, others not, which gave everyone and everything in them an eerie orange tint. Scruffie paused beneath one, and lit a cigarette as the lamp flickered overhead. He leaned on the post and let out a breath of smoke.
âAhh, these things will kill meâ¦â He said, pulling it out of his mouth and throwing it into the alley beside him.
âSo will I, Scruff.â A fist flew out of the alleyway, catching Scruffie completely unaware, and caught him straight on the chin. He staggered back, trying to entice his opponent out into the street, and the light.
âPretty corny joke Engarâ¦â He knew who it was. Heâd been anticipating something like this. Engar was still pretty angry with him for dropping out of FF3 so suddenly. Scruffie turned round to face Engar, who had stepped out into the light. âYouâve made better.â
âEnough talk Scruffie. Itâs time to settle this.â Engar cracked his knuckles, but there was something off in his stance that Scruffie couldnât place.
âI still donât see what there is to settle between us, but okay, Iâll do this.â Scruffie started to shake his shoulders and arms, loosening up for the fight.
Engar flew in first, his right fist ploughing through the night air. Scruffie grabbed it with two hands, just in front of his stomach. The next blow was to Scruffies face, which missed by a hair, as Scruffie pushed Engars right fist away and dodged to the left.
Rolling on the ground, Scruffie grabbed the Chainsaw off his belt and hastily pulled the chord; delighted to hear the chainsaws low hum. He leapt from his kneeling position at Engar, chainsaw stretched out. Engar moved slowly (too slowly for Engar Scruffie thought) and clumsily, and was unable to dodge the chainsaws fatal blade. It made contact, and with the blood curdling sound of metal on flesh and bone, lopped his left arm off at the elbow.
âYou--!â Scruffie cut him off as he swung his chainsaw up, the blunt side hitting his face, and sending him flying.
Engar slumped against the wall and struggled to get up, cradling his stump with his remaining arm. âY...Yâ¦â he stuttered, finding it hard to talk through his bruised and swollen jaw.
âThat fight was sloppy Engar.â He sniffed the air. âHmm, drunk, I guessed as much. Too much to drink in âCucâs Crotchâ (the name of the pub), eh?â Scruffie spat at the ground, and a small spot of blood hit the ground, still remaining from the first punch thrown. âCome on, pick yourself up⦠itâs time for round twoâ¦â
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
There should never be a pub named after my crotch.
That and Engar's atmosphere was better.
Close call, but Engar takes round one.
That and Engar's atmosphere was better.
Close call, but Engar takes round one.
The two circled around each other, weapons swaying gently as the moved between shadow and moonlight. In a one on one fight Engar knew that the chainsaw was a leathal weapon, the sword could only stand up to so much punishment before it shattered.
"Awfully quiet, Engar.."
The two stepped forwards, weapons swinging around in a deafening crash that sent sparks flying in all directions. Hopping backwards, Engar brought his sword up to flick away the chainsaw and used the momentum to swing the sword around; bringing it to a deadly upward curve. Scruffie side-stepped out of the way, his own weapon swinging around in a screaming scythe-like cut that shredded the air over Engar's head as he ducked under it.
The two met again, weapons clashing and sparking as they attacked and defended, never hitting but always coming closer. The real problem, the one Engar saw as coming to a head soon, was that the chainsaw was wearing the sword down. As he had predicted; his weapon was looking increasingly chipped and worn. The gleam was gone, if the fight continued it would have more use as a saw than a sword.
He needed to do something drastic.
The two were circling each other again, Scruffie stepping into the moonlight as Engar moved out of its beams.
He needed a plan.
Scruffie stepped out of the moonlight and into the shadows as their dance continued.
"It might not be over yet, old friend," murmured Scruffie, "but I'm not going to lose to you. Not today at any rate."
And then he was gone, stepping back into the shroud of darkness while the chainsaw's muted growling gave no help in acertaining his position. Turning quickly, Engar tried to catch sight of something, anything, but the threads has floated away and in the alleyway there was no light to aid him. Just moonlight, poor fare that it was.
What he needed most of all was to know where the hell Scruffie was hiding!
"I know this dance, its getting boring.."
"Shame.." The voice had an extra bounce to it, he had to be in one of the alleyways. But which one?! Stepping backwards cautiously, sword waving along his line of sight like a guide, Engar glanced at the darker holes that led into the alleys.
And there it was, the humming of the chainsaw grew a little louder as he passed another alleyway. Slowly, delicately, Engar changed his grip on the sword.
"Lets change the beat!"
Bringing around his good arm, Engar hurled the sword like a javelin into the alleyway at chest height. Stepping backwards, rubbing his shoulder, Engar once again felt the bottom of his stomach drop away. The first time had been when he backed into Scruffie, now it was a response to the clattering sounds as his sword landed on the damp pavement. The lack of screaming. The feeling of dread.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing the still bleeding wound, pouring pure pain throughout Engar's nervous system. As he fell to his knees he heard the scrape of boots drawing away from the ground, the swish of air as a leg was drawn back..
A second later he was lying face down on the ground; nose possibly broken and definately bleeding; back aching and groaning with protest. Looking through bleary eyes, blinking away the blood, Engar turned slightly against the wet tarmack and caught sight of Scruffie's boot drawing back.
It hit him with painful accuracy, breath escaping in one burst as the foot dug deeper into his stomach then reluctantly drew back. Gasping for air, Engar rolled onto his back - ignoring the pain - and looked up at his opponent.
"Told you Engar, you wont beat me today."
Engar looked up through strained eyes, parts of him screaming for attention, as Scruffie moved forwards to blox the moonlight, a white glow surrounding his dark shape. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but adreniline was pumping through his ears now and made it hard to think straight.
"Scruffie?"
The figure hesitated, you had to give the dying their last words afterall.
"It's tonight.." He didn't understand at first, by the time he thought about the words Engar was lashing out with his right foot. He caught Scruffie solidly in the knee, a click resounding around the alley as Engar forced himself upwards and brought his fist swinging up with him in a blow that caught the dazed Scruffie under the chin and lifted him up into the air and dropped him a few feet away.
Stumbling backwards, Engar thumbled in the darkness until his good hand caught hold of what he was searching for.
"Ha, groovy.."
Scruffie's eyes snapped open - that was his phrase - and he as he looked up the first thing he saw was Engar standing over him; his own chainsaw yowling in his hands. Engar raised it above his head, his feet set in a deliberate manner.
"So what's it going to be Scruffie?"
"Awfully quiet, Engar.."
The two stepped forwards, weapons swinging around in a deafening crash that sent sparks flying in all directions. Hopping backwards, Engar brought his sword up to flick away the chainsaw and used the momentum to swing the sword around; bringing it to a deadly upward curve. Scruffie side-stepped out of the way, his own weapon swinging around in a screaming scythe-like cut that shredded the air over Engar's head as he ducked under it.
The two met again, weapons clashing and sparking as they attacked and defended, never hitting but always coming closer. The real problem, the one Engar saw as coming to a head soon, was that the chainsaw was wearing the sword down. As he had predicted; his weapon was looking increasingly chipped and worn. The gleam was gone, if the fight continued it would have more use as a saw than a sword.
He needed to do something drastic.
The two were circling each other again, Scruffie stepping into the moonlight as Engar moved out of its beams.
He needed a plan.
Scruffie stepped out of the moonlight and into the shadows as their dance continued.
"It might not be over yet, old friend," murmured Scruffie, "but I'm not going to lose to you. Not today at any rate."
And then he was gone, stepping back into the shroud of darkness while the chainsaw's muted growling gave no help in acertaining his position. Turning quickly, Engar tried to catch sight of something, anything, but the threads has floated away and in the alleyway there was no light to aid him. Just moonlight, poor fare that it was.
What he needed most of all was to know where the hell Scruffie was hiding!
"I know this dance, its getting boring.."
"Shame.." The voice had an extra bounce to it, he had to be in one of the alleyways. But which one?! Stepping backwards cautiously, sword waving along his line of sight like a guide, Engar glanced at the darker holes that led into the alleys.
And there it was, the humming of the chainsaw grew a little louder as he passed another alleyway. Slowly, delicately, Engar changed his grip on the sword.
"Lets change the beat!"
Bringing around his good arm, Engar hurled the sword like a javelin into the alleyway at chest height. Stepping backwards, rubbing his shoulder, Engar once again felt the bottom of his stomach drop away. The first time had been when he backed into Scruffie, now it was a response to the clattering sounds as his sword landed on the damp pavement. The lack of screaming. The feeling of dread.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing the still bleeding wound, pouring pure pain throughout Engar's nervous system. As he fell to his knees he heard the scrape of boots drawing away from the ground, the swish of air as a leg was drawn back..
A second later he was lying face down on the ground; nose possibly broken and definately bleeding; back aching and groaning with protest. Looking through bleary eyes, blinking away the blood, Engar turned slightly against the wet tarmack and caught sight of Scruffie's boot drawing back.
It hit him with painful accuracy, breath escaping in one burst as the foot dug deeper into his stomach then reluctantly drew back. Gasping for air, Engar rolled onto his back - ignoring the pain - and looked up at his opponent.
"Told you Engar, you wont beat me today."
Engar looked up through strained eyes, parts of him screaming for attention, as Scruffie moved forwards to blox the moonlight, a white glow surrounding his dark shape. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but adreniline was pumping through his ears now and made it hard to think straight.
"Scruffie?"
The figure hesitated, you had to give the dying their last words afterall.
"It's tonight.." He didn't understand at first, by the time he thought about the words Engar was lashing out with his right foot. He caught Scruffie solidly in the knee, a click resounding around the alley as Engar forced himself upwards and brought his fist swinging up with him in a blow that caught the dazed Scruffie under the chin and lifted him up into the air and dropped him a few feet away.
Stumbling backwards, Engar thumbled in the darkness until his good hand caught hold of what he was searching for.
"Ha, groovy.."
Scruffie's eyes snapped open - that was his phrase - and he as he looked up the first thing he saw was Engar standing over him; his own chainsaw yowling in his hands. Engar raised it above his head, his feet set in a deliberate manner.
"So what's it going to be Scruffie?"
Scruffie
S
Guest
They were at a standoff. At one side stood Scruffie, holding the roaring chainsaw in his right hand, the deadly blade luminous in the moonlight. At the other, stood Engar, with Trunksâ sword held triumphantly in both hands, ready to defend itâs master at a moments notice.
Unexpectedly, Scruffie lowered his chainsaw and turned it off, itâs loud roar becoming a purr, which then puttered out into nothingness, silencing the night air around them. It was only then they realised just how quiet it was. Not even the low mutters of the various threads could be heard, as they had all stopped bickering amongst themselves to watch the battle before them.
The tension was building, neither warrior daring to make a move, each consumed in their thoughts, waiting to make a move against the other. The air had grown heavy around them, the pressure building and building until it was unbearable. The silence had become deafening.
Scruffieâs eyes were fixed on Engarâs. It was impossible to break eye contact at this point, as they had started a duel of the mind, a battle of wills. The world outside was non-existent to them, time and space no longer held any meaning. They were at a stalemate.
Scruffie searched his foe, looking for a weak spot, a chink in his armour, any means at all to defeat him.
All the while, Engarâs eyebrow had been itching. It ached and begged for him to scratch it, but he didnât give in. Unfortunately, he couldnât keep it up for long; the distraction grew too much for him to bear, and, in a moment of weaknessâ¦
BOOM!
His eyebrow twitched, and before he knew what was happening, his sword was cut in half, itâs metallic shards tinkling to the ground around him.
Scruffie, having gotten the chance that he needed, the moment of distraction that would divert Engarâs attention from the battle at hand, if for only a second, swiftly pulled out his shotgun, ****ed it, aimed, and shot the blade into pieces, all within the space of a few seconds.
âGroovy.â
Engar dove at him, wielding the broken sword with his right hand, attempting to skewer Scruffie like a kebab.
Scruffie, as calm and collected as ever, stepped to the side, allowing Engar to fly past. Engar had been taken by surprise, and had lost the moment. His nervous system had been given a shock that put his actions off by seconds, seconds that were crucial in this fight.
Still, he managed to swing round and bring his sword up to meet Scruffieâs shotgun barrel, the connection creating a few sparks. They duelled shortly like this, Scruffie using the gun as a makeshift sword; Engar using what remained of Trunkâs trademark weapon.
At one point, Engar even managed to kick Scruffieâs side, further aggravating the cut he had made earlier in the fight. But still, Scruffie was one step ahead, and managed to swing the shotgun in a half circle during the short interlude that followed, and hit Engar on the chin with the barrels tip. He was sent reeling, and hit the ground a few feet away from Scruffie.
Just as he was pushing himself off the street, he heard the familiar click of Scruffieâs shotgun, and looked up to see it aimed directly at his chest, hovering only inches away.
âUh uhâ¦â Scruffie prodded him with the Shotgun, pushing him back down onto the cold tarmac. He winked at Engar with a smirk on his face before continuing.
âSo, Engar, itâs your decision. Will you get up and fight, or give up now, while you still can?â
Engar didnât answer, he just stared up the barrel of the gun into Scruffieâs fiery eyes. Both of them knew how he would answer. Engar was going to fight.
Unexpectedly, Scruffie lowered his chainsaw and turned it off, itâs loud roar becoming a purr, which then puttered out into nothingness, silencing the night air around them. It was only then they realised just how quiet it was. Not even the low mutters of the various threads could be heard, as they had all stopped bickering amongst themselves to watch the battle before them.
The tension was building, neither warrior daring to make a move, each consumed in their thoughts, waiting to make a move against the other. The air had grown heavy around them, the pressure building and building until it was unbearable. The silence had become deafening.
Scruffieâs eyes were fixed on Engarâs. It was impossible to break eye contact at this point, as they had started a duel of the mind, a battle of wills. The world outside was non-existent to them, time and space no longer held any meaning. They were at a stalemate.
Scruffie searched his foe, looking for a weak spot, a chink in his armour, any means at all to defeat him.
All the while, Engarâs eyebrow had been itching. It ached and begged for him to scratch it, but he didnât give in. Unfortunately, he couldnât keep it up for long; the distraction grew too much for him to bear, and, in a moment of weaknessâ¦
BOOM!
His eyebrow twitched, and before he knew what was happening, his sword was cut in half, itâs metallic shards tinkling to the ground around him.
Scruffie, having gotten the chance that he needed, the moment of distraction that would divert Engarâs attention from the battle at hand, if for only a second, swiftly pulled out his shotgun, ****ed it, aimed, and shot the blade into pieces, all within the space of a few seconds.
âGroovy.â
Engar dove at him, wielding the broken sword with his right hand, attempting to skewer Scruffie like a kebab.
Scruffie, as calm and collected as ever, stepped to the side, allowing Engar to fly past. Engar had been taken by surprise, and had lost the moment. His nervous system had been given a shock that put his actions off by seconds, seconds that were crucial in this fight.
Still, he managed to swing round and bring his sword up to meet Scruffieâs shotgun barrel, the connection creating a few sparks. They duelled shortly like this, Scruffie using the gun as a makeshift sword; Engar using what remained of Trunkâs trademark weapon.
At one point, Engar even managed to kick Scruffieâs side, further aggravating the cut he had made earlier in the fight. But still, Scruffie was one step ahead, and managed to swing the shotgun in a half circle during the short interlude that followed, and hit Engar on the chin with the barrels tip. He was sent reeling, and hit the ground a few feet away from Scruffie.
Just as he was pushing himself off the street, he heard the familiar click of Scruffieâs shotgun, and looked up to see it aimed directly at his chest, hovering only inches away.
âUh uhâ¦â Scruffie prodded him with the Shotgun, pushing him back down onto the cold tarmac. He winked at Engar with a smirk on his face before continuing.
âSo, Engar, itâs your decision. Will you get up and fight, or give up now, while you still can?â
Engar didnât answer, he just stared up the barrel of the gun into Scruffieâs fiery eyes. Both of them knew how he would answer. Engar was going to fight.
Scruffie
S
Guest
Oi! Don't go onto the next page!
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
This was a good fight and again a close call, but you need to make the fight more interesting Scruff, your opponent only got a kick on your cut, it barely slowed you down.
Round and Match to Engar, though I request that the Scruffie not be penalized any reputation points.
Round and Match to Engar, though I request that the Scruffie not be penalized any reputation points.
Scruffie
S
Guest
Well, at least I get to keep my reputation points...
Er, what are reputation points?
Er, what are reputation points?
Active Member
✔️ HL Verified
🚂 Steam Linked
💻 Oldtimer
nice fight both of you 
nice thrilling story
nice thrilling story
Live free or die by the sword
Retired Forum Staff
✔️ HL Verified
💻 Oldtimer
Your reputation points are next to your post count. Hover over the green icon with your mouse to see them. The looser has to give the winner a reputation boost (left of the edit button in a post, check and x).