(In a moment of timing so perfect you could not have planned
it, Thibor hit 50 the instant the team flattened Tyrant in the Save Statesman's Red White and Blue backside mission. Cammy
hit 50 the evening before, Raisana a few missions before Thibor and Windy a few missions after. Jen I am sorry Raisana is in the background for much of
this, I don't know enough about her characterization to write her effectively.
So here's a quick story to celebrate.
(While I recognize the dynamics of the MMO experience take precedence over the genre, I still find it somewhat annoying that all the AVs are so overwhelming
that only a large team and several minutes of extensive button clicking can bring them down. While it fits the MMO model well, it makes for piss poor
storytelling.)
Thoom!
Thibor slammed into the pillar with enough force to flatten
a rhinoceros to the thickness of a toaster pastry, including the homogenous, red, squirty, filling. He flopped forward
onto the cold, stone his ears ringing like Quasimodo himself had taken up residence in his head.
"Pathetic weaklings!" Tyrant boomed. The huge man stamped a foot, sending forth a shockwave that blew Raisana,
Cammy and Windy back like dolls. Thibor spat out a mouthful of blood, counted the white, pointed, teeth in the puddle
twice, to confirm that he was not concussed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Tyrant took a step towards them, his
chiseled features caught up in an arrogant sneer.
Perhaps it was not arrogance. He had every reason to be confident. He was supremely powerful, practically glowing with
the other worldly powers that fuelled his insane strength and total invulnerability. So arrogant was probably not
accurate. Asshole. That worked.
"I think we upset him." Windy noted, her blonde hair shifting as eddies of wind and mist wrapped around her body.
"Rather."
Cammy added, brushing the back of a heavy gauntlet across her jaw, where a largish, purple bruise was rapidly spreading.
They had been pounding rather futilely on Tyrant for some time, but had been unable to overcome his astounding invulnerability. "I am considering calling a tactical retreat. Major?"
"Not yet."
Thibor cocked his head to the side and shook it slightly, hoping to dump the chief hunchback in charge of tintinnabulation out of his ear, where the little
bastard could be conclusively stepped on. "Is noticing something when is being hit."
"Oh, well done Major." Cammy smiled at the almost imperceptible tilt of Thibor's muzzle as he indicated the wall behind Tyrant's
throne. Bound up in bands of glowing energy, Paragon's signature hero, Statesman, hung insensate. He could have been Tyrant's twin, but that was no entirely accurate. They were the
same person, each from a different dimensional reality, each imbued with enough power to rival any god you could care to mention or call out to in a moment of
stress. When Tyrant has slammed Thibor, the glow surrounding the chains had faded ever so slightly. "Shall we put it to the test?"
"Windy. Job
opportunity." Thibor growled, taking in the situation. Tyrant was
advancing and a large crowd of his enhanced minion were closing in with what could only be described as dread intent.
All four heroes exchanged a glance and nodded. It was not a good situation.
For Tyrant and his minions.
"Miss Day.
Please attempt to revive Statesman. Raisana, you and I shall deal with these extra dimensional football
hooligans." Cammy noted crisply, adjusting her beret to the proper jaunty angle.
"Major, at the risk of sounding cliché, Sic 'em."
"Affirmative."
Thibor smiled, revealing a full set of teeth, the empty gaps having filled in as his flesh regenerated.
"Is mine."
"Oh you haven't marked him, have
you?" Windy made a disgusted face. "Bad dog."
Tyrant ran forward, raising both fists to slam down on the
werewolf, with every intention of crushing him like a beer can. Thibor feinted as if to jump away then charged forward,
under the blow, catching Tyrant around the waist and driving him back into the throne, reducing the stone chair to fragments.
Tyrant tossed Thibor away as if the werewolf were a stuffed toy. It gave Windy the opportunity she needed. The
storm mistress flew forward, over the prone Tyrant and pressed against Statesman, increasing the density of oxygen in her immediate vicinity, and feeding it
into him in a motion that could be, at best, construed as enthusiastic artificial respiration.
Statesman's eyes flickered open as he drew in a deep
breath. His burning glare took in the situation. Under the skin tight costume,
huge muscles flexed and strained against the restraints that bound him.
"I shall kill you all!" Tyrant roared, turning on Windy. "How dare you meddle with my plans!"
"Oh do shut up."
Cammy said dryly as she casually dispatched a minion with a crescent kick. The glow surrounding the chains
binding Statesman glowed brightly as the hero turned his undeniable strength against them. It was subtle, but easily
observable if you looked for it. Tyrant had bound his own power to the chains, his power being the only thing
sufficient to restrain the hero, and the strain that Statesman was putting on them was weakening him. The only question
that remained was how much. In the spirit of experimentation she slipped the spetzer knife from her belt and triggered
the blade release. The heavy spring projected the razor sharp blade at Tyrant with incredible speed. The blade bounced harmlessly off one spandex and leather sheathed buttock, but Tyrant turned towards her, anger flaring in his
eyes. Cammy tossed him a casual salute with just a hint of a condescending smile.
It was a perfectly executed maneuver; the very epitome of understated British insult. It worked. Tyrant was momentarily distracted from twisting Windy into a blonde pretzel.
Thibor hit him in that moment of distraction, clawed fingers
grasping and digging into Tyrant's shoulders. Where previously the claws had been turned aside by unbreakable skin,
they pierced through. Tyrant's eyes widened in pain and then bulged as Thibor slammed a knee upwards, slamming it
into the villain's plexus with terrible force. Thibor's jaws gaped and fastened around Tyrant's helmet,
twisting it off the villains head with powerful jerk. Tyrant managed to push the werewolf away with a backhanded
blow.
"You… injured me."
Tyrant glanced at the small trickles of blood on his shoulders.
"And is saying can't teach old dog new
tricks." Thibor barked back, casually spitting the helmet into the face of an approaching minion, sending the man
tumbling back. "Is having two choices. Can beg, or can roll over and play
dead."
"Never."
Tyrant hissed. "This dimension shall be mine. Do you scuttling insects
think you can stand up against me?"
There is something inherently pure about the straight right
to the face. While there are more effective punches; more devastating martial techniques; the straight right to the
face still stands out. Perhaps it is the simplicity; harkening back to the days of John Wayne, where problems could be
solved with guns, but were better addressed by the straight right to the face.
Tyrant's head snapped back as Thibor demonstrated as
near to perfect a straight right to the face as there was. The punch drawing power up from the ground, magnifying it
through the hips, driving it forward through the shoulder and delivering it straight into the nose. The nose broke with
an audible crack. Twin geysers of blood shot out to stain the front of Tyrant's uniform. He gaped for just a moment. His brain awash in pain.
His eyes tearing ever so slightly. Perhaps he wanted to say something in honour of the moment, to acknowledge
in some small way the role the straight right to the face played in bad westerns and super heroic battles.
He never got the chance.
"Cannon Spike!"
Cammy vaulted over Thibor's shoulder, driving her combat boots into the bloody mess formerly known as Tyrant's nose. She back flipped away from the impact, landed gracefully and foot swept a minion that was positioning himself for a shot at
Raisana's flank.
The time for purity was over and the time for purely
practical dawned like the Age of Aquarius. Perhaps the sun did indeed shine in; and it would certainly have sufficient
opportunity to do as Thibor methodically tore Tyrant a new one. Several new ones.
If there were a few square inches of Tyrant's thoroughly battered body that did not have a new one torn in them, it could be considered a great
boon of fortune by the spared span of skin. There was never a let up, not even a second, for Tyrant to collect his
shattered senses and take back the upper hand of the fight. Thibor alternated punches with punishing elbow strike and
knees; careful not to punish the same part twice. Each blow was a new pain, a fresh and screaming distraction followed
instants later by another, and then another. It was not a fast process. Perhaps
thirty seconds of pain filled eternity, culminating with Thibor slamming the limp and boneless Tyrant teeth first into a fragment of rock, while loudly singing
Maxwell's Silver manner, ensuring that each enamel shattering impact coincided with the Bang! Bang! Of the chorus.
As the last vestiges of Tyrant's spluttering
consciousness fled like roaches before light, the chains binding Statesman broke, falling away. The Hero inhaled deeply
and floated down to the ground.
"Thank you for the rescue Heroes! Your rescue is well
appreciated." He boomed with a hearty voice. He glanced over to where
Thibor was still engaged in an enthusiastic stomping of Tyrant. "If perhaps excessive…"
it, Thibor hit 50 the instant the team flattened Tyrant in the Save Statesman's Red White and Blue backside mission. Cammy
hit 50 the evening before, Raisana a few missions before Thibor and Windy a few missions after. Jen I am sorry Raisana is in the background for much of
this, I don't know enough about her characterization to write her effectively.
So here's a quick story to celebrate.
(While I recognize the dynamics of the MMO experience take precedence over the genre, I still find it somewhat annoying that all the AVs are so overwhelming
that only a large team and several minutes of extensive button clicking can bring them down. While it fits the MMO model well, it makes for piss poor
storytelling.)
Thoom!
Thibor slammed into the pillar with enough force to flatten
a rhinoceros to the thickness of a toaster pastry, including the homogenous, red, squirty, filling. He flopped forward
onto the cold, stone his ears ringing like Quasimodo himself had taken up residence in his head.
"Pathetic weaklings!" Tyrant boomed. The huge man stamped a foot, sending forth a shockwave that blew Raisana,
Cammy and Windy back like dolls. Thibor spat out a mouthful of blood, counted the white, pointed, teeth in the puddle
twice, to confirm that he was not concussed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Tyrant took a step towards them, his
chiseled features caught up in an arrogant sneer.
Perhaps it was not arrogance. He had every reason to be confident. He was supremely powerful, practically glowing with
the other worldly powers that fuelled his insane strength and total invulnerability. So arrogant was probably not
accurate. Asshole. That worked.
"I think we upset him." Windy noted, her blonde hair shifting as eddies of wind and mist wrapped around her body.
"Rather."
Cammy added, brushing the back of a heavy gauntlet across her jaw, where a largish, purple bruise was rapidly spreading.
They had been pounding rather futilely on Tyrant for some time, but had been unable to overcome his astounding invulnerability. "I am considering calling a tactical retreat. Major?"
"Not yet."
Thibor cocked his head to the side and shook it slightly, hoping to dump the chief hunchback in charge of tintinnabulation out of his ear, where the little
bastard could be conclusively stepped on. "Is noticing something when is being hit."
"Oh, well done Major." Cammy smiled at the almost imperceptible tilt of Thibor's muzzle as he indicated the wall behind Tyrant's
throne. Bound up in bands of glowing energy, Paragon's signature hero, Statesman, hung insensate. He could have been Tyrant's twin, but that was no entirely accurate. They were the
same person, each from a different dimensional reality, each imbued with enough power to rival any god you could care to mention or call out to in a moment of
stress. When Tyrant has slammed Thibor, the glow surrounding the chains had faded ever so slightly. "Shall we put it to the test?"
"Windy. Job
opportunity." Thibor growled, taking in the situation. Tyrant was
advancing and a large crowd of his enhanced minion were closing in with what could only be described as dread intent.
All four heroes exchanged a glance and nodded. It was not a good situation.
For Tyrant and his minions.
"Miss Day.
Please attempt to revive Statesman. Raisana, you and I shall deal with these extra dimensional football
hooligans." Cammy noted crisply, adjusting her beret to the proper jaunty angle.
"Major, at the risk of sounding cliché, Sic 'em."
"Affirmative."
Thibor smiled, revealing a full set of teeth, the empty gaps having filled in as his flesh regenerated.
"Is mine."
"Oh you haven't marked him, have
you?" Windy made a disgusted face. "Bad dog."
Tyrant ran forward, raising both fists to slam down on the
werewolf, with every intention of crushing him like a beer can. Thibor feinted as if to jump away then charged forward,
under the blow, catching Tyrant around the waist and driving him back into the throne, reducing the stone chair to fragments.
Tyrant tossed Thibor away as if the werewolf were a stuffed toy. It gave Windy the opportunity she needed. The
storm mistress flew forward, over the prone Tyrant and pressed against Statesman, increasing the density of oxygen in her immediate vicinity, and feeding it
into him in a motion that could be, at best, construed as enthusiastic artificial respiration.
Statesman's eyes flickered open as he drew in a deep
breath. His burning glare took in the situation. Under the skin tight costume,
huge muscles flexed and strained against the restraints that bound him.
"I shall kill you all!" Tyrant roared, turning on Windy. "How dare you meddle with my plans!"
"Oh do shut up."
Cammy said dryly as she casually dispatched a minion with a crescent kick. The glow surrounding the chains
binding Statesman glowed brightly as the hero turned his undeniable strength against them. It was subtle, but easily
observable if you looked for it. Tyrant had bound his own power to the chains, his power being the only thing
sufficient to restrain the hero, and the strain that Statesman was putting on them was weakening him. The only question
that remained was how much. In the spirit of experimentation she slipped the spetzer knife from her belt and triggered
the blade release. The heavy spring projected the razor sharp blade at Tyrant with incredible speed. The blade bounced harmlessly off one spandex and leather sheathed buttock, but Tyrant turned towards her, anger flaring in his
eyes. Cammy tossed him a casual salute with just a hint of a condescending smile.
It was a perfectly executed maneuver; the very epitome of understated British insult. It worked. Tyrant was momentarily distracted from twisting Windy into a blonde pretzel.
Thibor hit him in that moment of distraction, clawed fingers
grasping and digging into Tyrant's shoulders. Where previously the claws had been turned aside by unbreakable skin,
they pierced through. Tyrant's eyes widened in pain and then bulged as Thibor slammed a knee upwards, slamming it
into the villain's plexus with terrible force. Thibor's jaws gaped and fastened around Tyrant's helmet,
twisting it off the villains head with powerful jerk. Tyrant managed to push the werewolf away with a backhanded
blow.
"You… injured me."
Tyrant glanced at the small trickles of blood on his shoulders.
"And is saying can't teach old dog new
tricks." Thibor barked back, casually spitting the helmet into the face of an approaching minion, sending the man
tumbling back. "Is having two choices. Can beg, or can roll over and play
dead."
"Never."
Tyrant hissed. "This dimension shall be mine. Do you scuttling insects
think you can stand up against me?"
There is something inherently pure about the straight right
to the face. While there are more effective punches; more devastating martial techniques; the straight right to the
face still stands out. Perhaps it is the simplicity; harkening back to the days of John Wayne, where problems could be
solved with guns, but were better addressed by the straight right to the face.
Tyrant's head snapped back as Thibor demonstrated as
near to perfect a straight right to the face as there was. The punch drawing power up from the ground, magnifying it
through the hips, driving it forward through the shoulder and delivering it straight into the nose. The nose broke with
an audible crack. Twin geysers of blood shot out to stain the front of Tyrant's uniform. He gaped for just a moment. His brain awash in pain.
His eyes tearing ever so slightly. Perhaps he wanted to say something in honour of the moment, to acknowledge
in some small way the role the straight right to the face played in bad westerns and super heroic battles.
He never got the chance.
"Cannon Spike!"
Cammy vaulted over Thibor's shoulder, driving her combat boots into the bloody mess formerly known as Tyrant's nose. She back flipped away from the impact, landed gracefully and foot swept a minion that was positioning himself for a shot at
Raisana's flank.
The time for purity was over and the time for purely
practical dawned like the Age of Aquarius. Perhaps the sun did indeed shine in; and it would certainly have sufficient
opportunity to do as Thibor methodically tore Tyrant a new one. Several new ones.
If there were a few square inches of Tyrant's thoroughly battered body that did not have a new one torn in them, it could be considered a great
boon of fortune by the spared span of skin. There was never a let up, not even a second, for Tyrant to collect his
shattered senses and take back the upper hand of the fight. Thibor alternated punches with punishing elbow strike and
knees; careful not to punish the same part twice. Each blow was a new pain, a fresh and screaming distraction followed
instants later by another, and then another. It was not a fast process. Perhaps
thirty seconds of pain filled eternity, culminating with Thibor slamming the limp and boneless Tyrant teeth first into a fragment of rock, while loudly singing
Maxwell's Silver manner, ensuring that each enamel shattering impact coincided with the Bang! Bang! Of the chorus.
As the last vestiges of Tyrant's spluttering
consciousness fled like roaches before light, the chains binding Statesman broke, falling away. The Hero inhaled deeply
and floated down to the ground.
"Thank you for the rescue Heroes! Your rescue is well
appreciated." He boomed with a hearty voice. He glanced over to where
Thibor was still engaged in an enthusiastic stomping of Tyrant. "If perhaps excessive…"
![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)