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View Full Version : wRHG Battle: Rykosar [Kyra] vs Torvin [Tremorfist]



Kyra
01-11-2014, 02:13 PM
Rykosar - Metal skeleton. Robotic leg and hand. (http://forums.stickpage.com/showthread.php?77742-wRHG-Profile-Rykosar)


Torvin - Military solider. Close combat weapons, sidearms , explosives and stimulants. (http://forums.stickpage.com/showthread.php?77796-wRHG-Character-Torvin&p=1107677#post1107677)




Dark casted over the large city of Toronto.

Hours had melted into the deep night, time unknown to the old man walking the streets. This city was large enough to have the occasional passing car even in these unknown but late hours, yet it was quiet enough to have little hustle and minimal bustle in all other aspects. Stores were shut, some with iron gates and others with the standard lock and key. The only life-like sensation brought to the specific street however was the loud knocks of an old metal leg against the concrete walkways. The more human leg remained almost precariously perched near the curb’s edge as he strolled. A cane was gripped tightly in his hand of metal, which aided in holding some of his weight. He had spent most of mid-day finishing the installation of the woodland cabin’s door, the rest was spent simply walking the streets. Strange looks and long stares were things he was used to when he had navigated the populous of the city in the daylight to obtain some extra supplies to start on the next step in repairing the house, the foundation.

But now it was late. He didn’t care how late, but it was late. He slowed his stroll and eventually came to a stop at the sight of a young familiar man however, that head of bright red hair was the first indicator. Rykosar couldn’t help but grin, some of the large scars that crossed his left cheek twitched, almost threatening to tear open at the size, but he managed to fake a sad and rather disappointed face. “Torvin!” He barked with a hint of ecstaticness, forcing his tone somber as he spotted the young man’s head snap up. “I thought you said you were going to surprise me.”

He could almost hear the snicker in the young man’s voice, eventually becoming visible as the two finally crossed paths, Torvin having to cant his chin up slightly to look Rykosar in the eyes. He shrugged before his reason was simply put, “I never said that, besides, you’re a tricky guy to sneak up on.” He’d prod with a voice, then physically as his finger poked the old man’s chest. An old rumbling chuckle rolled out of the old man’s throat as he returned the gesture with his metal finger. As the claw snapped out and tapped lightly at Torvin’s torso, he almost had to step back, it was like he was just hit by a small hammer.

“Well, since you’re already here, shall we?”

It almost seemed to take forever for that single finger to curl and join its other four look-alikes, the hand let out a soft clicking sound as he extended his arm and hand out towards their apparent arena; the asphalt of a Toronto city road. Torvin swallowed, but not anxiously, as he hopped off the curb and took a few steps back along the road to give Rykosar some room. He observed the left and right ends of the street out of a supposed habit, looking out for cars before his eyes shifted back to the older man, watching him follow in tow. The metal leg made a more distinct ‘THUMP’ as he lowered himself from the sidewalk curb and limped into the road to join Torvin, leaning his new cane up against the bumper of a gray tinted car. Rykosar’s eyes were briefly averted towards this action before his neck popped slightly to turn towards the young man. Both of his arms were spread out and a big grin fell over the old man’s face, Torvin could have sworn he spotted perhaps a glint of utter satisfaction in those deep azure eyes.

“Go on then.” He would motion playfully, to which Torvin responded with a palm clasping the smooth metal of his sidearm.

Rykosar had already reeled back in pain before he could make out Torvin’s move to aim and fire, the boy was quick, he would give him that. His crusty trench coat began to grow wet from the wound, the bullet had struck his shoulder but had been unable to break any of his metal bones. Looking down to visually address the wound noting how some of the blood was beginning to seep through his right sleeve, his grin widened towards the young man. Mechanical whirring and clacking cut through the air like a train rumbling down metal tracks, he began to limp towards Torvin quickly. In anticipation for whatever the old man had, knowing full well his pistol wasn’t going to stop his journey, Torvin dropped it to pull out his combat knife and prepared for a close quarters fight. One which Rykosar was more than happy to provide.

Rykosar hurled his left arm towards Torvin, fingers bent to send a jab for the young man’s right temple. Though as previously observed, Torvin was quick, he arched his back forward and dodged the attack successfully. While low to the ground, the younger opponent spotted an area of vulnerability, Rykosar’s stomach. His fist contacted the skin with all his might, noting that there wasn’t any bone in this area to protect him. Torvin felt a smirk pass his lips upon hearing signs of his success, Rykosar bent forward and let out several straggled coughs, the air in his lungs abandoning him. With a slowly drawn wheeze, the old man’s leg began to snap and make its other rather terrifying chorus of working noises. Torvin couldn’t stand up quick enough with the old man almost practically bent over him, he felt something powerful strike his general body in reply. He reeled back, stumbling until his legs finally shook and his knees buckled under him. Torvin’s eyes widened and his skin paled as the force of the blow had practically sent him to the ground unable to breathe, it was similar to the sensation of being hit by a metal beam.

By the time Torvin was able to get to his feet, he noticed the old man had finally stopped wheezing. Rykosar’s robotic leg was in front, signaling that was the knee that struck his unfortunate opponent. It was a bit more noticeable given some of his skin patches along his thigh, even through his pant legs, twitched from the inner gears turning in his prosthetic limb. Rykosar had waited for Torvin to stand before motioning him with a similar gesture he did before the beginning of the fight. The young man coughed once, checking his breathing before he replied with his next move. Torvin took three long strides towards the old man, standing on one leg upon entering the third step with the other in the air with his dark military boot aimed for Rykosar’s cheek. The strike hit its target, the scars along the old man’s face began to split, staples popping out and clinking to the ground and stitches snapping apart. By the time Rykosar had a hold of Torvin’s ankle with his robotic hand, blood had already began to dribble from the bits of skin still dangling off of his chin, exposing some of the muscles inside his face as well as the faint glimmers of metal where his jaw bone should be.

Even in that mess of blood, the old man’s skin curled upwards, a set of sharp metal and dull yellowed teeth emerged. He grinned lightly at the young man, watching Torvin’s face fall pale as this light gesture became something much more playful, perhaps devilish, in appearance. The metal claws of his hand began to dig through Torvin’s pant leg and into the skin of his ankle. That smile was the last thing Torvin saw before his ankle was yanked on violently, his head snapped back from the force of gravity. His world was now, literally, turned upside-down, sagging inches from the asphalt by his one ankle. His bright red hair scuffed against the pebbles and dirt of the road before he was abruptly dropped, a wave of relief followed from his ankle, given the stress it was put under in those iron claws.

“That’s one out of three, sir.” The sentence was half sputtered, given half of Rykosar’s face had almost effectively been torn off.

Torvin tried to pick himself up, feet staggered a bit along the road which nearly caused him to topple a second time. However, this did not happen. Rykosar felt a silly smirk contort his horrifically damaged face when spotting that pair of green eyes trying to deduce him, a younger trying to understand the elder and seeming uncomfortable when being unable to. An additional splurge of blood gushed as Rykosar chuckled, sending a bit of it to sprinkle the space of road between the two fighters. “You still get two more chances, come on then!”

The younger man charged another time, dodging a rather lethargic punch from Rykosar’s human hand. He’d side-stepped around the towering metal man and aimed a jab towards the old man’s skull, eyes shut in anticipation of pain. However, it appeared that his skull was normal bone. Rykosar took the hit with the same amount of grace as a drunk. Stumbling back, he grew disoriented from the blow as a brief snarl cut from his lips. The older opponent struggled as he stepped toward Torvin, leaning his body back and using the added momentum of movement to strike Torvin in the chest with his metal hand. The young solider went to dodge and was mostly successful, however a portion of the hand managed to graze his shoulder. A sensation of dread and fear stung Torvin as he heard a menacingly loud pop from where he was hit, the pain was dulled but very present as Rykosar followed through with an open handed ‘whap’ at Torvin’s face, finally sending the young man to the ground for a second time.

“Two!” He chirped in an unusually happy tone given he was bleeding from half of his face and his shoulder from the bullet wound. The skin around his face, Torvin noted, was growing paler in appearance. It didn’t help comfort the young opponent that Rykosar’s blood was a mixture of red and oil-black in color.

Torvin sat up, using his good arm to try and push on his shoulder to shift it back into place. He was partially successful. He could move it, but it would cause a bit of discomfort in the process. As he stood a second time, he made note to more effectively repair the dislocation after the fight. During this time, Rykosar simply stood in place, bleeding and sweating now from his rather obvious fatigue. He was probably too heavy to be moving around like this in keeping up with a springy young man. He started limping towards Torvin again, slower in his newly developed weariness. As he closed their distance, Torvin set his right leg back, knees bent in a combat stance. He waited until Rykosar was just out of reach before whirling back. His back leg rose from the ground, smacking Rykosar’s side with a round-house kick. The old man was growing too tired to hold his own and he stumbled. His metal leg finally stomped into the asphalt once he regained focus, stabilizing him and aiding in straightening his back up to his full size.

Torvin took action once again, however, something glinted along his fingers as he stole the distance between both challengers. The silver of a knife’s blade was tucked around his palm. The old man was quick to spot this and let the asphalt grind at the weight of his metal leg, he didn’t even lift it, just dragging it against the rock to draw it back. It began to thrum and click rapidly. Snaps, tings, and pops nearly threatened to consume the sound of Torvin’s hasty breathing. The solider finally arrived at his opponent, as his arm extended to send the blade into the man’s stomach, a metal leg shot up towards Torvin’s own at what could have been perceived as full force.

Torvin recalled his blade plunging through leather and skin before an unbearable force pressed on his body. His head was thrown back and his feet left the ground as a flash of pain nearly caused his vision to brighten the night-coated city. He could have sworn he was flying before his head impacting the curb of the sidewalk on the other end of the road brought that brief assumption to a halt. The old man watched the young man hit the ground, all four limbs sprawled out with his trunk relatively motionless other than the struggled rising and falling of his chest.

Rykosar tilted his head down, noticing the handle of a knife sticking out of his body. He chuckled lightly at its sight, shooting the boy a rather proud look despite him being unable to see it. He’d limp slowly, every lift of his leg pushed a bit on the blade in his body and forced a groan from his partially torn lips. His human knee bent until it touched the asphalt, blue eyes looked over the boy to see if he was conscious, which he was not. At this, the old man, although distasting this action shuffled through Torvin’s belongings before pulling out a standard cellphone. His more steady hand of iron claws tapped at the three numbers he knew every child had learned to recite, though perhaps in case of a less extreme emergency then severe internal and external bleeding from a rather good beating.

Though, before he could press the green phone-shaped ‘call’ button, he already noticed a medical vehicle just down the road with red and blue streams of light shining from its alarm and painting the walls of the city. It stopped about twenty feet in front of them. Rykosar canceled the call and slipped the phone back in the young man’s pocket before struggling to his feet. The two staff members in sterile white uniforms came out to greet him carrying various medical supplies along their belts and packs. After they settled Torvin along a gurney and carried him into the vehicle, they offered a place for Rykosar to sit in. To which the old man laughed, since he was much too heavy for a car or truck or any sort of mode of transportation to carry him without damage. One of the medics hopped in the vehicle as it took off while the other offered to stay with Rykosar and patch up his wounds.

“So, how long have you been in this corporation?” The medic asked curiously, he was a young one, younger than Torvin even. He had blonde hair that went to the bottom of his neck and Rykosar couldn’t make out his eyes as he began removing the knife, eyeing his stomach for signs of internal bleeding.

“Tonight was my first fight.” Rykosar mused with a smirk, hardly phased by the knife removal. He leaned his upper body back a little when he noticed the blood from his face was dripping on the man’s shoulder, seeping through the cotton uniform in various reds and blacks. “What about you?”

“First recovery job.” He responded, pulling off Rykosar’s jacket and beginning to apply gauze to the knife wound. Before he could keep speaking though, Rykosar cut in with “Wrap it tight now.” Then motioned with his hand to keep going, pulling tighter along the bandages. “First recovery job and first time I think someone’s had to stay outside with a patient instead of taking them into the vehicle.” The second comment was in a more humored fashion as the young medic looked up at Rykosar’s face. He could now see the young man had dull hazel eyes. The old man shot him a warm smile in spite of the medic’s rather disgusted face when seeing the torn skin and twitching muscles, some of which even had marks matching some of the shapes of his outer skin scars. The young medic began to carefully pick up some of the dangling flesh, reaching with his other hand to try and search for some supplies…

“Here.” Rykosar spluttered, handing the man a small ball of medical thread and a needle. “I always keep some handy, you’d be surprised how much this has happened to me.”

An uneasy chuckle shook from the young man’s throat as he took the supplies, slowly and carefully sewing the skin back according to the old gladiator’s directions, sometimes offering a guiding metal hand. Then finally removing several layers of jackets and clothing so the medic could remove the bullet in his shoulder, gauze around the opening followed. It was obvious at this point that Rykosar could have likely repaired himself, but he wanted to teach the young man something before he was done here tonight. They probably spent about three hours along the curb of the road on a cold Toronto night. Once done, the two parted ways. The medic grumbling and griping about how he would have to walk all the way back to the medical center now as Rykosar mused the boy with a pat on the back with his flesh hand before making his way out back towards the homeless shelter.





Another freezing day in the Toronto wilderness. A recent snowfall covered the landscape in a light dusting of white. The sun sat low in the sky, bathing the area in the early morning tinges of red and yellow. A crunch of boot upon dead foliage was heard, once, twice, the snap of a frozen branch breaking as Torvin made his way once again to the cabin.

“Damn it, I was hoping for a bit of time, but I suppose the old guy gets his fight.” Torvin couldn't help but mutter under his breath, half stumbling a bit over a hidden rock of some description under the snow. Trekking into the Toronto woods, while Torvin wasn't planning on a war this day, he had been more heavily prepared than his last trip. As opposed to the windbreaker and light winter clothing. This time the young man was prepared for a fight.

From the black tips of his heavy duty leather combat boots, to the cobalt blue thermal cap he wore over his red hair, Torvin was not entirely outfitted for a straight up military battle, but was ready for what he had to do combat wise. A white camouflage jacket over a Kevlar vest, as well as elbow pads and knee pads with white heavy duty gloves. His pants the same white camouflage held loosely against his legs.

He hadn't bothered with much else, not expecting this to take more than a few hours. If he had to, he could return to the small motel he had checked into nearby. The organization had the resources to spring for something better, but had declined at this point, having the pragmatic thought of his own. The wRHG organization had given him a confirmation and allowed for this battle, against his own will unfortunately, his own organization set him up with this, and they needed it to be authorized.

The irony was not lost on Torvin, for all the dislike of the wRHG, his organization was still bound by their rules. He couldn't help but smirk at this, he didn't want to go into this fight as much as he felt his opponent would. It gave him no small amount of pleasure that it meant that his organization had to go through the group they despised in order to gather information on Rykosar.

He nearly stumbled again, while the snow wasn't deep enough to be a detriment, he wasn't quite used to walking in the woods, especially with all in his mind. Fortunately though, where he wanted to go was only a short walk. A desiccated old cabin, long since abandoned by a demon girl, now re-purposed by the ancient fellow into almost what could eb considered a home. From what Torvin remembered though, the cabin wasn't quite in a liveable condition yet.

As he reached it, it was proven to not be so different from his first visit, while the door had been completed and the cabin had been patched up in parts, most of the windows were broken and the porch was covered in snow and debris still. While a bit more suitable for a living being, at the moment it looked like a derelict and empty wreck still, not a single sound emanating from the immediate area.

Shambling up the wooden stairs, Torvin contemplated his options. Waiting was what he had to do, but it felt wrong to just sit here in the cold. He also didn't want to go into the shambled old building. Superstition wasn't something that was common to Torvin, but the people he had heard of and faced in the wRHG left very little to chance in what he believed So for now he instead just decided to clear a bit of the porch off, picking up a few of the branches that may have fallen onto the porch.

The work was very simple and somewhat dreary, but it proved worthwhile to preoccupy his mind as opposed to just sit in the cold, It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Torvin was broken out of his reverie by a loud crunching sound heard a ways down the path. Hobbling forward, a monolith of a man was seen making his way toward the cabin. His scarred face contorted into what could be assumed as a wide grin, showing off a few yellowed and missing teeth.

“Oh, you're back.” the man rumbled, his deep baritone voice, despite the intimidating factor of it, showed little but a cheerfulness almost a playful chirp. The scarred old man almost seemed to pick up his pace at this point. Torvin couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm, giving the man a quick glance over, sizing up the competition.

The scarred up old man was no less intimidating than the last time he saw him. His crooked smile, the pale and almost destroyed skin, and the bright blue eyes that almost seemed to hold the last spark of youth from the elderly mans appearance. While Torvin stood nearly as tall as the man, Rykosar still held the presence of a man nearly twice his stature As Rykosar similarly shambled up the porch to meet him, Torvin's reaction was an almost instinctive gulp.

“Well, yes, I-I...yes, I'm here to formally challenge you today, the wRHG approved of it.” he said, offering the best offering of a smile. He couldn't believe the conditions of the fight, something that was...well, unorthodox for him at the very least, but it was something he could do. Eyeing Rykosar pensively, he couldn't help but take a deep breath, speaking in a more steady tone, “No weapons, hand to hand, first to either submission or a ten count of unable to stand.”

Rykosar huffed a bit at this, “Fighting old me hand to hand, was this your company’s decision or the wRHGs?” he said, folding his arms together, a creak heard as his calloused and pale hands clutched his elbows. Torvin was somewhat surprised by his reaction, but responded with a somewhat indifferent shrug, “I am grateful I don't have to use lethal force bluntly, I am not too interested in sitting out in the frozen woods for half a week aiming to shoot you when you are least expecting it.

Rykosar chuckled slightly at this, “May not have been as lethal as you think boy.” letting go of his elbows to tap on his nose, a slight -dink- of metal was heard.

Torvin paled a bit at this, what was this old man?

After a few moments of silence, the grotesquely scarred old man gave an appeasing nod and said, “Well, I'm polite to say the very least, lead the way.” he said in a cheerful tone, “Maybe you have some surprises for me set up, maybe something rigged or the like.” he would chirp amusingly.

Torvin didn't respond to this, he didn't have any traps, but he did at least want to not fight on the cabins porch. Even in a fairly light combat situation the potential for collateral damage was there. He didn't want to cause anything extra for the old man to have to fix after it ended. With a light shrug, Torvin made his way off the porch and began to walk.

Pacing along, Torvin would have simply pointed around the cabin. The area around the cabin was clear enough, a good fifteen meter clear of most heavy rocks or debris. Torvin padded over there, making sure he wasn't going to stumble about before nodding, “This seems like a fair enough place to fight, we can get it over and done with.”

Rykosar couldn't help but chortle, “Not too far then.” he said, a few creaks and groans heard as he stepped down the stairway, whether it was the stairway under the old man or the mechanical old fellow himself, Torvin couldn't quite tell in that situation. As he made his way down, a light hum was heard as he would rumble a tune.

“Most ev'ry fellow has a sweetheart, Some little girl with eyes of blue, My daddy also had a sweetheart, And he fought to win her too.~” He continued to hum the song as he made his way to the field, standing only half a meter away from Torvin, who leveled his gaze, giving a small nod of confirmation.

“I'll let you have the first blow, make it count.” Rykosar said, the scarred face was contorted into what could be assumed a grin, but Torvin bluntly wasn't sure at this point. He pulled himself into a basic fighting stance, standing slightly to his side, a hand protecting his face from a blow, he swung forward with a right jab, putting as much of his weight into the blow as he aimed for Rykosar's midsection.

As Torvin's hand connected, a few thoughts raced through his mind, 'Can I do this, can I win?', but once the sheer amount of agonizing pain had set into his hand from the equivalent of striking what felt like the side of a battleship, his thoughts very quickly switched to the thought of, 'Oh God I did not think this plan through!'

Rykosar chortled in response to that, a deep and rich laugh, “Not too bad boy, but you are just going to hurt yourself hitting me there,” he would have gestured to the slight paunch of his stomach, which, while not excessively overweight, he did have a slight bit of girth in the area. “Aim here if you want to do any real damage, no bones to worry about.” he laughed again. The creak of his metal frame was heard as Rykosar pulled his arms up into what looked like a boxing stance, his legs spread slightly. Almost sinking into the snow and frosty dirt, Rykosar stood like a monolith, aiming a quick left jab toward Torvin's chest.

The blow came toward Torvin like a freight train, he swore he could even hear the water boiling away in the mans arm like a steam engine as Torvin reached to attempt to block the strike, or at least attempt a parrying blow toward the mans arm. It would have accomplished nothing, the missile like punch not losing it's trajectory in the slightest. It was then Torvin took a step to the side, while he wasn't able to deflect the shot, he was at least able to step out of the way.

That was when Rykosar swung his elbow back, a piston of an old motor, pulling back and striking Torvin in the side of the head, sending him sprawling back into the snow. Everything seemed to go black for a few moments as a pounding ringing was heard in his ears. The impact with the snow went almost unnoticed by the pain in his head.

“One...”

“Two...”

“Three...”

It wasn't until the “...Four.” was heard that Torvin opened his eyes, Rykosar was looking down at him, perhaps a hint of worry upon the ancient machines face, “Five...” he would have simply continued to count, not making a move to attack, but obviously just waiting to see if the boy would get up. It wasn't over quite yet though, not by Torvin's standards though as he stood up, stumbling a bit as he reached to where the blow hit, he felt warmth, retracting his hand he saw it wasn't stained with blood, not yet at least.


“Ah, good, still can get on your feet!” Rykosar rumbled, not quite as happily as before, perhaps a touch of concern in his tone. He would have threw another punch at Torvin as he stood, but it obviously wasn't as hard as the last one. Torvin managed to adeptly dodge this time, even in his slightly stunned state. He winced as he at this point swung a fist into the older mans midsection.

The blow finally, instead of hitting a solid chunk of metal from what it felt like from the other blows, finally had the slight resistance of hitting flesh. His hand sinking a bit into the ruined leather jacket. It wasn't enough to cause the old man to double over in pain, but his blue eyes bulged slightly from the impact, and he did stoop down a little. With a set frown, Torvin threw a second shot with his left arm, an uppercut that would have collided with the old mans jaw.

This strike though would have hit metal, a gruesome crack was heard as Torvin's clenched glove impacted the jawbone, or, in what it seemed to be, jaw-plate. Shaking his hand a bit in pain, he could barely register the strike that would have came a moment later from Rykosar left arm, the familiar creaking roar as his left hand slammed forcefully into Torvins chest, knocking the wind out of Torvin.

The secondary blow that Torvin had expected never came though, He gasped, attempting to clutch at the escaped tendrils of air as he held his stomach, both his hands were aching, he swore he could see bits of red beginning to stain the white material that his gloves were composed of.

As Torvin looked up, he saw the smile on Rykosar's face, “You have a lot to learn kid.” he rumbled, a few of his teeth showed, a combination of yellowed and half rotten molars and gleaming iron incisors. Torvin grimaced, finally speaking in between gasped breaths.

“I-I'll keep going, but don'-don't go easy on me for your sake, I c-can take a bit more.”

Rykosar repiled, “I don't want you to end up in a coffin, you've been a good sport.” he chuckled, “But fine, no more holding back.” He would have touched both of his hands together, a cacophony of cracks were heard as he interlocked his fingers, stretching them out casually.

Torvin managed to pull himself back up, attempting to close both of his hands, but he found it wasn't possible for either, the only thing accomplished when attempting to clench the hands was a fair amount of pain. Broken, or at least bruised badly was the immediate thought. He couldn't do much about that at the moment, but after giving a bit of a boast, being unable to follow up on it was a disheartening prospect. He couldn't just punch until he won, he had to think.

Rykosar hadn't given him much time for that though, as Torvin would have been doing this, he would have aimed a kick toward Torvin's legs, hoping to trip the young man up. It wasn't a metal strike, apparently that leg wasn't made of metal, but it was still painful enough when it hit Torvin's hip, causing him to stumble a bit.

As Torvin smarted a bit, another roar of a punch flew at him, the old man was just not letting up at this point, his blows were slow and ponderous, due to his weight, but he wouldn't stop, Torvin was on the defensive, and while both his hands were barely able to shut, much less throw a blow toward Rykosar.

“C'mon boy, you can do better than that!”

His voice rang out in a almost keening fashion in Torvin's head, the right side of his head from where he was struck was slowly beginning to swell, barely able to see out of his right eye, he could barely think, much less retaliate, until...

“Damn it, you are still going easy on me.”

As Rykosar threw another punch, Torvin finally did something that seemed all too obvious at this point, he stepped around and under the blow. Rykosar responded with the similar blow that he had attempted before, pulling his arm back with a loud creak into an elbow strike. Torvin though, had been ready for it, slamming his own elbow and shoulder into Rykosar's side with as much physical force as he could muster.

Another crack was heard, Torvin's shoulder throbbed as he struck the metal ribcage of Rykosar, but at the same time, it did what he had hoped. As Rykosar stepped back, the blow caused the old man to stumble, teeter, and finally fall onto the snow covered and icy landscape with a resounding THUD.

The ground quaked, the earth itself seemed to indent a bit as Rykosar laid on the snow, his arms spread out. He didn't look injured, a bit of blood perhaps speckled on his hands and chin, but that seemed to be more from Torvin's end. He chuckled as he began to count, not really making a move to get up.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

Torvin looked down at Rykosar, barely able to see via the squint in his right eye, but his left eye seeing the old man giving his horrific excuse for a smile.

“Your win, not too bad kiddo.”

Torvin would have smirked, a groan escaping and the smirk instantly dissipating once he attempted to roll his shoulder. Even with his elbow pad, his arm felt as if it was broken apart. His gloves were almost stained completely red at this point, Realizing he couldn't use a phone even if he brought one, and everything else was at his motel. With a sigh, he looked down at the old man.

“You still went easy on me, but I think I'll wait here, wRHG will be here soon to help us both out.”

He plopped down in the snow next to the old man, who had settled down in the snow quite snugly, his weight had perhaps caused him to sink into the ground a bit more than before, but he didn't seem to care much apparently.

“Well then, what to do while we wait?” Rykosar said with a cheery tone, obviously unfazed by the situation.

Torvin shrugged in response, a similarly cheery tone as he glanced at the ancient man, “Why don't you tell me one of your many stories?.”

Crank
01-11-2014, 06:50 PM
Okay, so I'm going to forget what all I was going to say by the time I finish the next one so:

Kyra:
I never get why you're so nervous! You're a fantastic writer and it shows through consistently, you keep up with the all the details and keep them relevant as shown by the breaking scars. You made both characters extremely likeable, as well the medics when they arrived. No one looked cookie cutter, but rather realistic.
Amazing job!

Torvin:
Great story, as expected! You worry too much too, you don't give yourself enough credit! Both characters were very human, and Rykosar diffidently lined up with how Kyra had just portrayed him! I don't really have much to say other than praise, but I was thrown a little bit off by the ending of the fight. Not the way that it ended, because that was impressive, but more less the speed that you showed it. Like, there was a 10 count, but I flew through it. I just feel like a slow down here and a second by second play wouldn't made it a lot more dramatic.
Again though, sick story, diffidently worth reading!

ErrorBlender
01-12-2014, 06:19 AM
Awesome battles. That's all I can say :D

Kyra ::
You write so well, Kyra. I can imagine the actions well like a movie running through my head. The battle flowed nicely and I can say I liked this battle very much. Good job :D

TremorFist ::
The battle was great too, Tremor. There were very minute errors but nothing that needs mentioning. Anyway, like Crank said, the last countdown seemed to flow faster. It was as if Torvin intentionally sped up his countdown, I'm sure it wasn't supposed to be that way but a dramatic pause per number would have added that much needed effect :D The battle itself was nice, hand-to-hand really did make both fighters shine. :)

Kyra takes my vote, guys.

Please take a vote on Lobo and my battle too guys. Only if you have the time :D CnC is very much appreciated as well.

Hewitt
01-12-2014, 09:16 AM
...

Kyra
01-12-2014, 09:45 AM
I vote for TremorFist.


What, shocker?


To put it simply, TremorFist's work has more "soul".

Dunno about you guys, but I take one look at both stories and immediately, I am hooked on Tremor's piece. Sure, it lacked the "detail" that Kyra has but I was engaged. I managed to read it till the end to the point that the ending wasn't so bad. I read Kyra's part and I've already lost interest less than halfway into the plot. Though both writers have competent ability, Kyra's piece falls a little flat as if it was just going through the motions. Her supposedly detailed piece is bogged by unnecessary clutter, cliche'd phrases, redundancy, and flowery text. I don't want to say it's bad but I really don't know how Error can say that the motions portrayed by her were fluid when they were as mechanical as you can possibly imagine. No pun intended.

...


^So these are what I mean by the Clutter in general. There's this trend right now about quantity that just doesn't sit right with me and I'm just not seeing it right now with Kyra but in everyone who's "winning". Being Prolific doesn't mean you are good at what you do, nor that adding every detail possible in the most formulaic way possible can get you points for realism. Tremor's work was lacking in details in parts, but it managed to get my attention and retain it for the duration of his plot. Though lackluster in the ending department, it managed to give me insights on the situation. It manages to tell a story.

I mean honestly, do you guys take one look at Kyra's Tolkenian doorstopper and praise it all too vividly to hell because it's that detailed? It's too much, guys. Too much.


Yes. You don't know how long I've waited for something like this to happen.

Maybe it's because my anxiety has always tried to point out my flaws and I needed the voice of another person to confirm such anxieties, or if I had been subconsciously waiting for someone to break down my stories into this detail so that I could finally taste the sting of a critique. It's no offence to anyone else that has ever enjoyed my writings. But, as much as deep down the amount of flaws in my writing being pointed out hurt, I personally believe I needed a critique like this.

The reason why I used to ask for CnC personally to others was for them to point out flaws so I could fix them. Whether it was in a writing or even in my own personality outside of Stickpage. When a majority of what I got was just praise, I could still feel that little monster in my stomach telling me that people were just trying not to upset me. It ate at me like an acid.

I won't lie though, I was hoping you would do a bit more through detailed CnC on Torvin's just like you had on mine, though you voted for him for a reason, so I assume there wasn't much to mention improving wise on his end. At first reading this as well as taking note of that, I was for a brief moment rather immature and started to take it personally, I was hurt. Perhaps I took the wording of your critique wrong and that's what's leaving me with this rather hollowed-out sinking sensation right now. But I do appreciate your words.

Your critique seemed to be more about my style then anything that I could easily correct with the stroke of my keys however, so you'll have to excuse me if improvement doesn't come quick.

- Kyra

Hewitt
01-12-2014, 11:08 AM
...

Tremorfist
01-12-2014, 11:39 AM
Not really my place to say that much, but I suppose I wanted to say one or two things myself. Just in general

While this isn't my first ever writing, it is also my first experience in the wRHG battle system, the main reason I went against Kyra was because the two of us have been friends and I figured, win or lose, I know the two of us have a massive amount of respect for each other and would both have fun no matter the outcome. It would be a good thing for Kyra to get back into the scene and for me to introduce myself, a couple of friends writing a story.

It actually it quite amusing, because, if anybody whom I've spoken with in the Writing Corner community is like, I am not a -bad- writer, but me and Kyra very much share the same anxiety in that we take our work very critically and tend to be terrified of our own work, but at the same time really enjoy each others work.

We actually both read the review Hewitt, and, you are right, Kyra has flaws, and I know you aren't trying to be mean or insult her by any means. It was a fair and honest review, and while I still think she did do better than me in this regard, neither of us are flawless writers, and probably never will be perfect. I have learned a lot from this writing experience though, and really enjoyed it as well. While I didn't, and honestly still don't expect to win this fight as much, I will say, I am definitely happy I've done it. I am hoping to write more and honestly do better.

Kyra, you know my critiques as much as the next, I adore your writings, but I just do know you will improve and do better in this, take note of that, just don't stress out, you have plenty of people who are always willing to listen and willing to help you, as I know people will do the same for me.

To the Stickpage Community, I really do hope that, no matter what, my stories and whatever I write will be critiqued and criticized, torn apart, given props when done well, but the entire thing in the end involves learning, don't forget that. People grow from their victories as well as their failures, I do hope though, either way, my works will be entertaining and whatever crazy or idiotic ideas come to mind will be shot down or loved.

Thanks

Tremorfist.

Hewitt
01-12-2014, 06:43 PM
...

Azure
01-12-2014, 09:08 PM
I'm going to find some time specifically to CnC both of these as well, 1) because I'm getting rusty in the area since I tried going for the nicer approach to these things and 2) because I don't get to see very much of Kyra's things anymore, and she's one of the ones who originally got me into wRHG (Crank, I'll be hunting your stuff down soon, too). I suppose it's purely out of respect and selfishness, but hey. I was a cold bastard back in the day. I need to return to that approach.

Hewitt
01-20-2014, 11:51 PM
...

Azure
01-21-2014, 09:42 AM
Surprise surprise: ^it never happens >_>
Ironically said the day it was supposed to occur.

Hewitt
01-21-2014, 06:46 PM
...

Kyra
01-21-2014, 08:01 PM
I wasn't sure where else to post this. So here we go!


The Toronto general hospital was a bit of a walk from the homeless shelter, but it was a trip the old man was willing to take. He paused to wave at the citizens walking by, some still staring at his disfigured face, perhaps even his still healing split maw. Others though, gave the impression of being almost awed. He felt his brows buckle trying to process the idea of people already knowing about his new career with the RHG Corporation so early in his time there. Perhaps Torvin’s corporation had been monitoring the fight. Whether they were or not did not really disturb him, it was just a simple note to keep in the back of his mind for possible reference later.

He extended his hand, pushing on the wide glass doors into the lobby area of the medical office. The audible trail of ‘step’ ‘THUNK’ was heard as he limped to the desk, metal claws along his right hand drummed the counter with little tiny ‘snaps’ echoing between Rykosar and the dark-haired middle aged woman on the other end, looking up at him with her head snapping up further in a double take when processing his scars and sloppily done stitching.

“Are… you here to check in with us, sir?” She paused briefly as if trying to decipher which of the many questions in her head she should pick to ask next.

Rykosar waved his hand, letting another one of his big smiles slip out to try and comfort her. “Oh no no. I’m here to visit someone, a Torvin?”

She shuffled through the papers hooked up to her clipboard, finger trailing the page until it stopped on a text reading the same name. “Head down the right hallway and it’s the fourth room on your left.” The old man bowed his head in thanks before pushing off of the counter and making his way through the hospital, following the instructions as given until he reached the correct door. It was already open and the sound of background static and people talking could be picked out. Peering inside revealed the young red head, rather conscious, head tilted up at the TV hooked up on the other end of his bed. It appeared to be broadcasting the weather for this week. To summarize, snow. A lot of it.

Torvin looked over when hearing the faint clicks of machinery, a mused look crossed his face as the old man limped into his hospital room. A nurse that had just passed by the door noticed the two and offered to obtain a chair for Rykosar. He waved his hand again but in polite refusal, choosing to stand by the bed instead. As the nurse disappeared, he would have leaned closer to the young man. “I would have broken it anyway. I’d prefer not to lose my first payment because of what helped me obtain it to begin with.”

Torvin grinned and responded. “Yeah, that would definitely suck.” He shifted in his bed so he was sitting up straight. “So, what brings you here?”

Rykosar wouldn’t even answer that question just yet. Without warning, his extended his right arm and ruffled up Torvin’s messy red hair, shuffling the bangs and so forth. The dull claws of his robotic hand scraped lightly against his scalp, but it wasn’t to the point of cutting through his skin.

“I came to praise you on a bravely fought battle. It was very clever of you to use speed to your advantage, I thought I was going to keel over a few times that night.” He’d chortle deeply from his chest, eventually setting his head down, watching the young man try and wrestle with his hair to get it as straight as he could. “Well.” Torvin started, continuing once satisfied with his hair. “You were pretty tough out there yourself. You’re slow, but you know how to use that time and weight.”

A strange smile emerged from the old man’s lips before he dug his human hand into his jacket, pulling out a small half crumpled brown paper bag, he made a swinging motion with the contents inside to alert him it was for Torvin. The young man tilted his head, watching metal claws reach inside and pull out a large plastic container, handing it to him. Torvin took it with curiosity glinting in his face, setting it in his lap before removing the lid. If he had been grinning before, it grew twice in size when seeing what was inside.

“I thought you’d prefer not to live with the dread of tasting hospital food.”

Inside were several heated rotisserie chicken legs, a few scoops of mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables. All three parts of the meal had been separated by small plastic dividers along the large plate container. Taped to the top of the lid in the container, it already came with a plastic package of utensils to eat it with; a fork, spoon, and knife. It was something that one could easily purchase at the local grocery store, but it was the thought that counted. Torvin didn’t seem to mind, given he was already beginning to scarf down the chicken by the time Rykosar decided to inquire. “What do you plan to do once you’re released?”

“Well.” Torvin stopped to swallow. “I gotta report back to base, give my supervisors the information on our battle. Hopefully get a chance to visit my family.”

“Family?” Rykosar questioned curiously, finding his old musing smile growing warmer at the thought. While this change went on in his features however, he’d lean closer to Torvin’s bed, using one of his metal claws to scoop some of the mashed potatoes from his pile and slipped the bit he collected into his mouth with a half grin. Torvin rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I have a wife and a small daughter. They’re the world to me.”

“Well then.” Rykosar said, a strange crack almost rose from his voice, possibly from thirst or the cold weather outside. “I wish both yourself and your family good health and to be well while you’re still in this corporation.” The young man nodded with a thin but sincere smile at the man’s farewell, then shooting the old man a ‘Really?’ look as he snatched one of Torvin’s chicken legs and used it to wave him off before stepping out of the room.

“Oh hey!”

A familiar reporter’s voice piped up from the other end of the hall as he stepped out. Footsteps quickened as the young brunette took several jogging strides to, rather easily, catch up to the old man’s limping. “So, I was going over your profile.” Allison had started the second they were out of ear shot from Torvin, her voice trailed off in a tone that implied the old man was supposed to respond. However, to combat this presumed response, and also because he had a chicken leg in his mouth, he simply made a circular turning motion with one of his hands as he walked to urge her to continue, “…And I noticed that you served in the military.”

With the continued silence as they finally pushed through the front doors to the hospital, Allison’s voice held a twinge of anxiety, something that caused a minute but very present grin to sprout from the old man’s face. However, instead of that smile relieving her, it made her more uneasy. The scars that coated him, twisting into his features, made the intent behind anything he expressed a mystery. It mildly disturbed her. At last he spoke out though, tossing away the bone now stripped of its meat. “Yes?” This produced an unnoticed sigh of relief to huff out through the reporter’s nose.

“Did you serve in any of the wars? The…’big’ wars?” She would have inquired with a much greater hint of confidence, even resorting to a playful grin as she added jokingly. “If so, which one?”

“Both!”

The reply came so quickly and chipper, that Allison blinked sharply, attempting to come to sorts with his reply. “What? She stammered, fascinated but almost terrified as she examined the old man with a hint of appeasement. “Your profile said that you only served for six years, didn’t even say there was a big war going on during that time.” She tried to justify, in a way that seemed to deem him delusional. To which he guffawed, a metal hand slapped to his chest as he faked an offended appearance. His features then brightened almost frighteningly quickly as he so boldly stated, “Well, I lied!” He threw his arms up as he did this, causing Allison to stare into him further.

“Why would you lie on your own history profile?”

Rykosar let out a snarl at the question, though it wasn’t directed at the reporter, she flinched. “If people want to know so much about my life, they should have the decency to find me and ask what they want to know. What an old man has seen in a lifetime can’t be explained in a few paragraphs. It would take volumes.”

The reporter nodded slowly at this, hands shoved in her pant pockets. “So, you heading back to the cabin now? Just going to wait for some other sucker to come fight you?” The old man’s brow rose at her wording, he raised his shoulders then let them drop in a shrugging motion. “Well, I intend to put the pay that I received to use. If you’d like to help me, it’d be appreciated but not anything I’ll hold against you if you refuse.”

“Well, when you put it /that/ way.” Allison droned jokingly as she rolled her eyes, eventually chuckling and trying to push his shoulder playfully. Briefly perturbed as the metal man didn’t move and the motion in fact nearly pushed her into the road, he really was like a wall. “But yeah, I’ll come help. You’re probably tired from that fight anyway, might need the aid. But I’ll warn you. I’m a reporter, not a girl scout.”

The two flashing at each other with playful snickers was all that needed to be said before they continued off towards the cabin.

Nightlock
01-22-2014, 08:24 AM
It's like I said, nobody cnc's after me ever.

And congratulations Nightlock for the support, unintentional or no.

LOL, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic :p My vote was made mostly because I believe Tremorfist's was the better of the two. I say mostly because there was an urge I felt to make a stand beside you in this nearly nonexistent poll. (Where is everybody? The last couple of actual battles had more than 15 votes combined)

And as for a CnC, I've been meaning to get around to giving my own in the last few battles and some stuff in OLit. I just don't like doing so from my phone... At all. But I feel like a tool for leaving Hewitt hanging here, so I'll give a relatively short summary of my critiques.

Everything Hewitt pointed out in Kyra's battle I completely agree with. When it comes to critiques, I personally only pull a couple of things from a piece to highlight and leave the rest for self improvement, or for someone else to pick up and point out what I left. I honestly could only find one thing else to add, and it was just a pet peeve that I caught multiple times.

It almost seemed to take forever for that single finger to curl and join its other four look-alikes...

The bold portion makes the sentence sound strange. This is one example of the many I found just like it. The words "almost, literally, and practically" came up many times and definitely took away from the story telling. Try to refrain from using those words to add more showing to a piece, because to me it seems to only add to the telling bit... If that makes any sense at all.

Tremorfist, my only problem with yours was that I felt there wasn't enough showing vs telling. (I realize I'm focused on that right now, but that's what stood out most after reading these). Like Hewitt, I was completely sucked in from the beginning, so it was easy to tell where the creative mojo started and stopped within the piece.

^ These are bull crap CnC's. I've basically just reiterated what Hewitt has already brought to light and repeated myself. It's early, and I'm tired of typing on my phone.
TL; DR What Hewitt said.

Hewitt, I have a feeling that the reason people seem to back off after you step in is because there really is nothing more to add. When you critique, you don't pull your punches. I respect your wisdom, and apologize for not getting here sooner.

Hewitt
01-22-2014, 08:40 AM
LOL, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic :p My vote was made mostly because I believe Tremorfist's was the better of the two. I say mostly because there was an urge I felt to make a stand beside you in this nearly nonexistent poll. (Where is everybody? The last couple of actual battles had more than 15 votes combined)

^ These are bull crap CnC's. I've basically just reiterated what Hewitt has already brought to light and repeated myself. It's early, and I'm tired of typing on my phone.
TL; DR What Hewitt said.

Hewitt, I have a feeling that the reason people seem to back off after you step in is because there really is nothing more to add. When you critique, you don't pull your punches. I respect your wisdom, and apologize for not getting here sooner.

You don't need to have a feeling. That IS the reason. That's why I never cnc because people think I've said everything already. But I've been saying this for a loong time, and that CNC doesn't actually have to be just critique. Just say what you like and don't like in these things, people! The writer's not gonna chew you out if you dont say anything particularly not-useful. Unless, hes an ass. I'm just saying, that people need to talk around here so the respective authors know that their piece exists within the public eye. Also, I'm not 100% right either so you know, I might be wrong and what I say might not hold water.

As for the comment on your polling skills, I was just being melodramatic. Where the fuck IS everyone? Did you all just make foregone conclusions and just left it at that? This is why nobody has alot of battles around here; they post their first battle and then this few people votes and comments, and they just leave like FUCK IT THIS PLACE IS DESERTED.

Azure
01-23-2014, 11:18 AM
So, I finally managed to read the entries.

Your story was good. The fight was solid, and you did a pretty good job at showing off the military side of your opponent's character. I was able to get a good feel for Rykosar's personality and combat style, though at times he seemed just a bit too, well, jovial about some of the damage he took. I'd think somebody would feel a bit less than perky at having half their face torn off. Then again, his sanity is questionable at best.

Now, I do have some complaints. For one, you had Torvin shoot Rykosar to start off with, and showed him as being quite adept military-wise. If he realized that shooting somewhere with bones was ineffective, why wouldn't he at least take one shot at a place without bones? Of course, it could be argued that it was in the heat of the moment, but he is militarily trained, so it's a bit questionable. Next, I did notice you misspelled "soldier" as "solider" at one point. There were also points in the story where I started to drift off. It may have been because you use a lot of details, or it may have been because certain parts dragged on a bit. It was still a good piece, but it seemed you were just trying to expand something short, honestly.

Your story was rather entertaining. It was nice seeing your character's annoyance at the prospect of the battle, and his growing fear and agitation as the battle actually began and carried on. It felt more human that way. I think you, for the most part, captured Rykosar's personality, and the fact that you made the battle unarmed and therefore on (supposedly) even grounds gives you a certain underdog appeal.

Now, onto complaints. Torvin seemed to take a good deal of damage before wising up to anything regarding Rykosar. He heard the metallic ting when he walked, could've noticed the lack of movement, and after hitting him, it most likely would've been apparent to him that hitting areas with little meat over the bone would be a bad idea. But he kept hitting him. From the front no less. Wouldn't it have made sense for him to try getting behind his opponent? But, in the end, they're really more just questions on his tactics. The story overall was pretty appealing.

Now, I have only one question that has been constantly nagging at me, and Kyra, it's aimed towards you: How in the world does Rykosar use his metal arm and leg for combat? Considering their weight and his old age, it's kind of confusing. This isn't a question of support, as I'm sure his metallic skeletal system is what keeps his body from falling under the arm's weight. But considering the fact that he can't move very fast, and one of his legs ISN'T made of metal, the problem occurs in using them for strikes. Wouldn't the arm, when swung, send his entire body in the direction along with it, as the weight would draw him along into tipping? And when kicking with the leg, wouldn't the same thing occur? I mean, it just seems strange to me that he can effectively throw them around without the force throwing HIM around.