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danzilla3

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danzilla3 last won the day on February 11

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About danzilla3

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    King of the Monsters

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    One hundred percent ma-male.
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    Blessing the rains down in Africa.
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    Gaming, roleplaying, reading, going to the movies.
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    Professional hyena wrestler.

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  1. At first, Amirah thought she had finally gained the definitive advantage over The First; forcing the other woman to push her powers to the limit just to avoid being incinerated. Her destructive power was the greatest among The Seven; the flames of The Phoenix having never faced something they could not destroy. Some held out longer than others, Phoebe having survived the longest; but all defenses eventually crumbled before Amirah's power. Victory was at hand, and it clouded her judgement. The raw bloodlust that propelled her power to such heights blinded her to tactics that she might have otherwise seen coming. So focused on the utter annihilation of her most hated enemy was Amirah, that she was taken by surprise when Phoebe rolled underneath her. The sudden barrage of spears formed from the roof itself flew toward The Phoenix; threatening to turn her into a pincushion. Wings spreading, the blazing feathers flew forward to intercept the improvised attack. Each glowing projectile was more than hot enough to slag the spears and keep going to rain down upon The First. Phoebe's attack had caught her off guard, but her response would be a rain of fire that would leave her opponent a smoking ruin of a human being. In anticipation of victory, Amirah had once again failed to remain aware of her environment, and so she only saw the Mindgorger rocketing towards her as a glint in the corner of her eye. Moving on instinct, she turned to intercept it, but it was too late. The weapon impaled her through the lower left part of her stomach. A cough tore out of her throat, crimson fluid spraying from her mouth. Falling through the air, she managed to put some distance between her and Phoebe before landing hard on her feet and sinking to her knees. "Fuck.,," Amirah wrapped both her hands around the spear and tried to wrench the weapon free from her gut. Once it was out, she would quickly cauterize the wound before she could bleed out. Realizing that dislodging the spear would be more difficult than she thought, she formed another pair of wings that grew far larger than the first. They wrapped around her, a shield of solid fire to cover her while she tended to her wound.
  2. Is the cold coming on rapidly, like through magic, or just naturally as a result of being up so high?
  3. Kulbrast couldn't quite fathom what was happening. One moment he was racing toward the two women at the other end of the arena; his spectral fire burning everything before him in an inexorable advance. His killer taunted him, but it was nothing but the impotent chatter of the soon-to-be deceased. Victory was at hand. Then there was suddenly another presence in the arena, but this one was so much more than those who stood before him. Suddenly his charge was stopped dead in it's tracks, the sensation akin to slamming face first into a brick wall. Then he felt himself being pushed back, and it was all he could do not to be swept away by the primal force that erupted from The First's body. "You... you shouldn't be this powerful!" All at once the fireball that comprised his body dispersed like the flame of a candle caught in a hurricane; leaving only the human form of the warlord standing where an inferno had once been. Confusion written on his features, he could only stare dumbstruck at Phoebe. He felt like a pitiful rabbit cornered by a hungry predator. For the first time he could remember, Kulbrast was afraid. "No... NO!" This would not stand! Flames swirled around his body once more, the heat from his form hitting the cold air generated by Riha's psychic abilities meeting to form a vast cyclone in the middle of the arena. At first it seemed he might be lost in the gale, but then fire began to swirl with the wind, starting out as a thin stream before growing bigger. In seconds the stream had grown into a great dragon that circled the ring. After a few circuits, the dragon focused on the women. YOU DIE NOW! And with that, the charge resumed.
  4. Iblis did not hold Esben in high regard. A smiling yes-man on the surface, Iblis could sense the desire for wealth and power that lurked within him. He held no illusions that the man would betray them just as soon as help them if the elf thought he had more to gain by doing so. Still, he was knowledgeable in his areas of expertise, and his counsel was wise. Claudette seemed to like him as well, and for her would tear down the sky. Putting up with a man he found mildly annoying was nothing in comparison to the lengths he was willing to go for his family. Sitting in the throne of his houses main chamber, he gently stroked the demon Malachite's hair as he listened to the plan put before him. "I won't pretend to understand everything you've said," he chuckled, "But if it will make my wife whole, then it shall be done. Make whatever preparation you require. I shall retire to our bedroom." Leaving the room, Malachite followed close behind him, a dreamy smile on her face as she kept pace with her master. So thoroughly had they corrupted her that her need for their love was like a physical addiction. Which of course made it all the more fun to lock her up until she was begging to be taken. Through it all, she would never feel any ill-will toward the demon and his wife. The knights arrived just as the two were finishing, and their fight was brief. At the end, he had acquired a new toy, and secured his wife the vessel of her resurrection. He had to admit, Esben had done good work. "We'll have her taken somewhere to eat undisturbed," he rumbled, "Malachite, introduce your new friend to the pleasures of servitude." Noticing Lucinda entering the room, he made his way over to the growing demon, his bearing no longer that of a conquering lord, but a loving father. With surprising gentleness, he pulled her close for a hug. "You grow more and more beautiful every day, my dear," he smiled, "I believe you are ready to begin taking on some responsibilities."
  5. Iblis? Have you ascended? Awoken finally into the beast that houses the emberheart itself? Let Malachite be awoken into her new role my dear. The thundering in his chest sent the former Djinn to his knees; the pain like his very heart was attempting to tunnel its way out of his body. A tremendous roar thundered from his throat, shaking the house, the furniture, the very ground itself. In the wake of this expression of rage and pain, there was only utter silence. Slowly, the demon of Zweifer rose, his form practically glowing with the power he now wielded. With one hand, he pulled his wife to her feet, and kissed her before pulling back and offering her a wicked smile. "I've never felt better," he assured her, "Take Malachite to our bedchamber. We shall initiate her together. This night would be spent breaking in their new toy, and tomorrow they would leave for the new lives that awaited them. Glory awaited them. fin
  6. It wasn't a lack of faith in the doctors ability to handle herself that made Jacob reluctant to take his eyes off her; though he couldn't help but worry somewhat. Unfortunately, the men they were fighting were not inclined to give the Don any time to think. Considerably more fortunately, they fought like the thugs they looked like. Jacob easily ducked under the leading man's punch, slam a hard right into his gut, and put him down with a left cross as he rose. Seeing his compatriot go down like a sack of bricks did nothing to dissuade the next man from charging forward, swinging an empty beer bottle. The Don covered his face and let the improvised weapon shatter over his elbow. On the thugs backswing, he caught the bastards wrist with his rear hand, and used his left to strike the elbow, breaking the arm with a sickening crunch. The other man barely had time to scream before Jacob snaked his lead hand underneath the mans arm and put him on the floor with an uppercut. Frenzied screeching drew Jacob's attention back in Lilium's direction in time to see one of the thugs start tearing into one of his comrades in a blind rage. Four of the other men struggled to pry the frenzied goon off his fellow to no avail. Seeing his chance, Jacob moved forward and dropped the next to attackers on his side with a quick succession of well-placed punches. Then he got the remaining man in an armlock, and started moving him toward the back exit. A quick nod toward Lilium would tell her to follow him. Jacob marched the man down the block until he came upon a quiet alley that he shoved the man into. Looming over him, he would look over at the doctor. "Think we should give him a chance to talk," he asked, "Or can you just make him spill his guts?"
  7. Perhaps Shikai should have guessed that his meat slab of a doppelganger would be as strong as it looked; but he certainly didn't expect it to be so fast. It moved with speed akin to his own, easily parrying the originals strike, and sending the blade spinning out of his hand. The clone then moved to follow up by driving a massive elbow toward his sternum. Fingers on his off hand blurring as he weaved signs, he was able to get a shadow clone up between him and his dark mirror. Even so, the impact was enough to knock both clone and original flying backwards. But at least he had managed to lesson the impact, and was able to use the momentum to roll to his feet. "Damn, this freak is strong, and fast..." “We need to get those crystals off our mirrors,” "Perfect, I'll just have to cut his ugly face open and take it!" But how to do that? If the dark version of Shikai shared his physical capabilities, what else might it be able to do? Charging in blindly would only succeed in getting himself killed; possibly dragging his comrades down with him. For now, he would simply stand ready, and see what his clone would do.
  8. @Mickey Flash Is John allowed to flirt with the new arrivals 😂
  9. Shikai may not have understood the words that were coming out of the psychics mouth; but righteous indignation was a sentiment that transcended language barriers, and he guessed the specter had not been receptive to his request. Frankly, it seemed a bit selfish to him. After all, it wasn't like the unfortunate soul could take his flesh with him to the next life. Why not let someone else get some use out of it if he could no longer do anything with it? In different circumstances the shinobi might have scavenged the corpse anyway, but he had seen the way Riha had reacted when something in the jungle got pissed off. He wouldn't intentionally do anything to cause her that kind of pain. "Alright, alright, I didn't mean anything by it," he held up his remaining hand in a placating gesture, "So what's this bargain?" It sounded simple enough. Rescue the dead mans friends, and they would help the group to get to the top of the mountain; standard quid-pro-quo. At the very least, it seemed like a better idea than wandering through the jungle blindly, hoping to stumble upon the solution to their problems. "Sounds good to me," he nodded, "Though if I find any other bodies that don't belong to your pals, I am going to strip them for parts. Non-negotiable. This patch job is less than ideal."
  10. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Nothing about this place had been simple. From the moment they had set foot in this wretched place, it had toyed with them, twisted their fears and hopes and desires against them in the cruelest ways. Why he thought leaving this green hell would be any less complicated than the rest of the journey was beyond him. Now as the stone guardians descended upon the group from the dense canopy above, Shikai was aware of two things. One, he was exhausted; more weary than he could remember being in recent memory. Two, he was angry. Fuck this place. Fuck the humidity, fuck the fetid foliage, fuck the mud that pulled at his feet with every step. Fuck the mind games, fuck the ghosts and specters, and most importantly right now fuck these fucking gargoyles! The living statue that had laid Phoebe low was closing in on the disoriented woman, it's focus narrowing to the wounded prey whose life it would soon take. As it was moving cautiously to ensure that The First could not surprise it, the construct wasn't looking at Shikai as he tossed his blade through the air. Only when the legendary blade cleaved its head in twain before lodging itself midway through the things neck did it realize its miscalculation. It turned on the shinobi, divided features snarling. "Come and get it, you ugly stone motherfucker!" A chorus of furious roars shook the vegetation around him as the guardians rushed to accept his invitation. The closest one was behind him, and he turned and tossed the unconscious form of Quinn at it as it charged. Not prepared to have two hundred pounds of dead weight thrown at it, the creature was sent crashing to the ground, the vampire rolling away. The next one closed in to take a swipe with its massive claws, but Shikai ducked under it, calling his sword back to him as he did so. Meeting him as he spun under the blow, he rose and struck off the right corner of the gargoyles face; provoking a roar as it retreated. Seeing their brethren struggling against the shinobi, the remaining guardians advanced to join their fellows. Shikai danced among them, dodging claws and tails by the narrowest of margins, and striking back with sword slashes that gouged stone and severed fingers, tails, and bits of wings. But the opportunity for a decisive blow never came, and he knew he could not keep this up forever. He had to think of something fast, or else he would die, and his comrades would swiftly follow.
  11. Six blocks felt like six hundred during summer in Harlem, but Cole had learned to tolerate discomfort in a muddy foxhole somewhere in the Italian countryside. Even as the sun attempted to broil the asphalt off the streets, he walked on without a complaint. Yet something still gnawed at him; some sliver stuck in the back of his mind telling him not to let his guard down. It kept his head on a swivel, and his fingers grazing the reassuring weight of the handgun on his hip. For whatever reason the cops hadn't been interested in taking it, and after the incident at the office, he wasn't inclined to go anywhere without it. Dorothea's apartment complex was the kind of place that no one visited unless they had a good reason to do so. The residents were close knit, and outsiders were viewed with suspicion at best, and outright hostility at worst. Cole could feel eyes on them, though so far he and Regina had been left alone. Still, no reason to push their luck. Best to get in, find out what, if anything the assistant knew, then get out. Regina knocked on the door before he could, and a few moments later the door opened a crack. “Yes…?” Cole flashed a winning smile, the one he used when he turned on the charm, "Dorothea Santos? My name is Cole Sharpe, I'm a private detective. I'd like to talk to you about your boss, Clark Price."
  12. Markus didn't like clubs. He hated the noise, the heat, the smell of sweat and booze and sex and smoke all mingling together into a terrible miasma that fell upon his senses like an avalanche. It wasn't that he was averse to socializing, although it was hardly his area of expertise. No, it was just that the unceasing sensory assault offered by the clubs in Night City made it impossible for him to think, to gather his thoughts long enough to form a coherent sentence. To cope with the discomfort, he would drink to excess. By nights end, he would find himself stumbling back to the blessed serenity of his apartment... only to wake up a few hours later with a hangover that made death seem desirable. Perhaps it was his upbringing. The badlands were a rough place to live, but you could find a lot of things out there that were in short supply in the megacity. Privacy, quiet, and most importantly, freedom. Markus often longed to return to his family, but he knew it was not to be. For now he was most useful here; and he would always put the needs of his family before his personal wants. Besides, he needed to pay the bills, so if a fixer wanted to talk to him about a job in a night club, he would go there. Afterlife was a cut above most clubs anyways, he thought as the bouncer led him to a table. Seeing that several of the others had already arrived, he gave a slight bow and sat down across from the muscle. "Markus," he said by way of introduction.
  13. By this point Shikai had experienced Quinn poking around in his head often enough that it no longer seemed like a big deal; and frankly it never occurred to him to try and stop her. He trusted her after all, and he'd never had any secrets to keep from the woman he loved until recently. For her part, the vampire had never abused the privilege; always respecting the few boundaries he insisted on. So when she slipped into his mind like a thief through a window, he assumed that it would be the same harmless peak into his psyche that she took regularly. He was swiftly disabused of that notion as he suddenly found himself back in that horrible jungle; held firm by Phoebe's will. No... The illusion was indistinguishable from the memory, except that this time he could feel that his strength was greater than The First's. Instead of horror at his desires, he was outraged that she would dare to resist him, to restrain him! He was strong, and because of that strength he could take anything that he wanted. It was a lesson that he planned to make clear once he was free of this flimsy bond. Please no! Fear began to creep into Phoebe's expression as she realized that she would not be able to hold him back for much longer; followed by panic when she realized she could not escape. Slowly, the shinobi began to move again, the psychic hold on him growing weaker by the minute. He could tell that she knew what was about to happen, knew that she was powerless to stop it. Would she beg him for mercy, plead with him to see reason? He would never know, as her hold shattered before she could say a word, and after that there was only screaming. Nononononononono As the brutal scene played out with him in the staring role, Shikai tried to take refuge in the knowledge that it was an illusion; that it was nothing but a what-if. Every scream and cry that came from the woman beneath him drove home the fact that it didn't matter. God he wished he could close his eyes, look away, do anything to make it stop. His body betrayed him; tears streaming down his face as he did terrible things to a woman he cared about. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and wished for it to stop. That was when the screams changed, and his eyes snapped open to find him back in his apartment, with Phoebe replaced by Quinn. Now he was engaged in a perversion of an a beautiful act that he and the vampire engaged in often. But pain and fear were now etched into her expression as she pleaded with him to stop. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, her visage changed completely, and she tore him apart. Again and again this cycle played out; first as the violator, then as the violated. By the end he couldn't even bring himself to struggle anymore. Maybe this was the punishment he deserved... Yet just as he was about to give up hope, the scene changed yet again, and he found himself once again back in the jungle. This time however, the memory played out the way it had in reality. Once it was finished, he was presented with another memory where they had stopped to rest, and he had noticed Phoebe with her back turned to him. He had done nothing, and he was soon thrust into another memory. All of them, he would soon find were of times where he could have acted on the horrific impulses he had felt, but had chosen not to. Suddenly things began to click into place... And then he was back in the kitchen, sitting at the table across from Quinn. Sweating and shaking he looked at her. “We all have a monster deep inside. You can’t ask someone else to take away that which is in your power to control.” The Vampire’s voice was firm. Pieces of an epiphany were coming together, but he was still too shaken to see the full picture. He needed to calm down. The first thing he could think to do was lunge forward and pull the vampire into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry..."
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