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#ThroatPunch (T1, free fall, anyone/everyon can join)

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In a world rife with suffering, there are very few things that Ashton finds beautiful. At least, very few man made things. It isn't that he feels disdain for humanity, let alone its creations. No, the vast majority of people were good or at the very least didn't want to go out of their way to fuck other people over. The vast majority of people were moderately considerate, and made a conscious decision to not take advantage of or hurt others directly or indirectly. No, it really was a small minority of the population that caused trouble and an even smaller minority that caused significant problems. Yet, they were vocal, and worse yet garnered attention. This unfortunately has the profound impact of negatively influencing his perception and leaving him jaded against the general population. And yet, even knowing all of this, Ashton can no longer find the beauty in people or their creations. 

What he does find beauty in, is nature. And while the Hills of Noddendoddy lack many characteristics that might be considered aesthetically pleasing, Ashton can't help but see the majesty in them. They are simple, unchanging, they endlessly persevere, even as the world collapses around them. The grass is a gorgeous green, and the endless sea of cresting and rolling hills pulls the mind away and lets it drift aimless.  

It is for this reason, of course, that Ashton decided to have a picnic atop the highest crest, overlooking the lowest valley, and the great divide within sight. Admittedly, the scar on the land, lifeless and barren, is a strong contrast to the rest of the hills. By all account, it is ugly. But even this lifeless expanse has its own charm and beauty. Perhaps in the same way that an extremely ugly dog is cute.

Sitting cross legged in the grass, while taking a bite from a sandwich, Ashton contemplates this contradiction. His head tilts to the side, sending flaming locks swaying, as his smoldering gaze follows the event horizon that marks the abrupt shift from paradise to damnation. "I wonder what would happen if you transplanted soil from one side to the other?" A question asked to no one, or perhaps the loci, or maybe to himself.

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It was so cold-Barely holding on, he could feel the rocks beneath of his fingers slowly crumbling as he hoisted his left leg upward and onto the next cascade of rock. Gloved hands reached upward and gripped the next hand hold he could find. The figure was wearing a black hoodie, and a pair blue jeans some regular shoes. Severally under equipped for the environment that he was within. He had been climbing for quite sometime, the ice building up on his shoulders was proof of that. The next section of this mountain would be hard, it was an over hang and as he scaled this mountain side like a little black spider clinging on for dear life. He flipped upside down so that he could get a  better hold, looking down, he realized he could no longer see the ground at all. Just the clouds so far below, he could feel the pressure in his muscles, in his lungs. He was starting to feel a migraine coming on. 

Planting his feet and hooking them to the cliff, he let go and let his momentum thrust him downward. Flipping forward he kicked off the mountain and launched upward. Catching the very lip of the cliff. He had drug himself through the treacherous tumult of the climb. Once high enough to see over the edge of the cliff, his eyes widened at the site of a figure clad in demonic armor. "Not yet..." The beast spoke as it slashed through the edge of the cliff that Leon had scaled. Falling backward and flailing about; The debris floating all around him, chunks of frozen earth and shelves of frost falling with him. He was so close, he just knew it. Trying to free his mind, and focus his personalities began to shift from Leon to the Exile. The spirals within his eyes began to form and as they did so. It was only moments before he splattered upon the cold, icy cliff side. He was trying to open a portal to anywhere, yet he felt as though he impudent, as if he just couldn't perform. For whatever reason, his unpredictable powers were mere moments from failing him, when a ripple in the fabric of reality opened. A gargantuan mouth opened up and swallowed him whole. 

                                                                     ......And for awhile there was nothing but falling. 

                                                                           It felt like he was being microwaved.....

Upon re-entry he had no idea where he was, what was going on or how he even got there. Still he felt like he was free falling, yet things had gone back to normal, the skies were blue again. Twisting around, he noticed that there was a figure sitting at the top of a ridge. It seemed to be dark, was it that creature? He didn't know nor did he care. He was going to find out the hard way. Throwing his arms back, down at his sides. He began to pick up speed. As he got closer to the top of the ridge, he threw his arms outward and clapped them together. It was at this moment that he had began to focus on the iron within his own blood. He had been calling it to the surface, making it take the shape of a marble within his stomach. Regurgitating it, he spit it out. Within a moment, he had an what looked similar to an iron snow board, throwing it down beneath of his feet. He would thrust his feet with the board forward; Using his momentum as a weapon. Think of a missile coming out the sky. With one intended target. Ashton.

Should this hit him, it would be devastating. Think of the impact of an asteroid on the earths crust. Regardless if this hit him or not, the mere shock waves that would reverberate could only be equaled by the impressive crater that had been created from his landing. The hood was now thrown over his head. He had arrived and was ready to fight. He didn't know if this was that same guy or not, but with the way his day had went. He needed to blow off some steam. 

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Ashton flops backward onto the ground, his fingers laced together and supporting his head. Smoldering irides drift through the clouds, settling on… well something. “What?” Two blinks help him focus on the free falling thing, this metallic silver surfing thing. Was the sky trying to give him a present?

 “Hmmm, no thank you.” It didn’t take much consideration for him to realize that in this particular instance, it is okay to look a gift horse

As the projectile fell toward him, he rises to meet it. Except, they never meet. The board, surfer and all, pass through his translucent figure and crash into the spot he’d laid. Whatever devastation had been intended for Ashton, is imparted upon the hillock… briefly. By the time the shock-wave has cleared and the dust has settled, the up-heaved dirt has already started to migrate back to the crater, filling the hole in. Yet another example of nature’s beauty.

Of course, not all things return from destruction. Ashton is now noticeably sans his picnic. “My sandwich…” The low and near silent song of his voice is laden with defeat. Sizing up the surfer, about six feet from him, Ashton’s head cants ever so slightly to the left. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that buddy?”

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A shirtless, brown eyed man with spiky blond hair parted at the middle picked his way through a valley, flipping over, picking up and pressing big stones over his head before throwing them down as he worked in a quarry. Doing hard labor really put hair on his chest, which he put on display as he ran beneath the sun toward a person he happened to spot standing on a hillock. Suddenly, someone or something came crashing out of the sky toward the person he, Soichiro, saw standing on the hillock. As he continued running forward, he made a fist. Whoever or whatever he saw coming out of the sky would surely meet its end like those who came before it. Wanting to see who or what it turned out to be, though, Soichiro kept sprinting toward it so he could get a better look. Running up the side of the hillock in black leggings and brown work shoes, this bare chested bear of a man put his hands out like claws. He yelled, or rather garbled out, something unintelligible. Then, he volted forward toward what he saw to be two men, attempting to wrap his muscular arms around them and take the two of them on at once.


He would attempt to make these men's demises be quick and painless.

Edited by The Bone King

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There is a dot in the sky. It didn't approach from the cold space, but arched over the horizon like a.. like a bird. No, like a plane! No, like Aries Autto falling through the sky like a meteor. How did he get here? Well, it's easy! His dad threw him. One of the benefits to being on that guy's bad side was not an express ticket to love 24/7, but instead major inferiority complex and free airfare pretty much wherever you didn't want to go.

About a minute before hitting the ground, when the clouds parted and Aries saw the green grass true, he extended his right palm. Two large bracer mechanisms adorned each wrist and gloved each fist. From the bracers ran two steel tubes to a set of shoulder pads that encapsulated Aries' chest, back and, neck. Completing the piece was a gas mask affixed to his face. Jetstreams of air began pouring into a yellow node centered on his palm. Sucking and sucking in air like a turbine, Aries' MC balanced out his momentum. Then, extending his other hand, he dispelled a cushion of air that leafed him down about 10 feet from the trio of monkey fucking a football.

Wait, those weren't monkeys! It looked like one was humanesque, one was missilesque, and one was looking for hugs. Standing at the top of the hill into which the surferman had just plowed, Aries commanded as much authority down at the others as much as a 10-year-old can. Another swell of air began sucking into Aries' right bracer, this time anticipating a bit more range and piercing power. (1)

"Hey! None of you down there better like hugging or sandwiches, or I'm gonna beat you up!" Aries already saw one grievous violation of his creed, and doubled down on his conviction to dispel this monkeying around.


1) Gathering: Mid-range air punch [1]


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