How tough are ya?

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Orochi, Aug 27, 2009.

  1. Not enough to enter.

    D:
     
  2. I'm tough! I'm tougher then tough!! D<< *is a weakling...*
     
  3. I'M SO TOUGH THAT I BEAT RYKER TO THE CURB!....

    .....In a game of hopscotch....
     
  4. AUGUST 28, 2016
    DUBLIN, IRELAND

    Sam, Jacob, and the twins made their way to the store - evidently, it was a pet shop of all things. Night had fallen, but that just meant an entirely different set of monsters crawled out of the woodwork.

    As the four neared the establishment, the stench of rotting meat and formaldehyde assailed their senses. Jacob gagged and covered his nose with his sleeve. "Shit, that's gross. What the hell is that?"

    Sam sniffed and winced. "Embalming fluid." They approached the back entrance of the store from an alley. As they neared, the crunch of bone emerged from underfoot. Sam looked down. He'd stepped on a dog's severed leg, rotten through. He picked it up and turned it over for inspection. "There's suture lines here," he said, pointing out some hanging surgical thread around the stump.

    "This leg was grafted onto something else," Jacob agreed. His eyes narrowed as he looked around the alley. As the detective in the group, this was his element. He was already seeing the irregularities all around them. There were other animal bodies - some whole, many in pieces, but all scattered around them in piles of refuse. "God, there's dozens them them here, all hidden in the trash...."

    Jacob picked over a garbage bag, revealing a pile of stinking entrails and animal parts, crawling with maggots. "Rabbits, cats, dogs...and look, more suture lines on their stumps or on their necks where their heads used to be."

    Sam picked up the severed head of a cat and the body of a dog, putting the two together and studying where the suture lines met. "Someone's stitching these bodies together."

    "Why?" Jacob wondered.

    Sam glanced at the Mentaris twins. "I don't know. Doesn't make much sense to sew a bunch of dead animals together. Maybe its got something to do with the magic side of things?"

    Sam looked to the back entrance to the store. "We need to assume the guy who did this is in there. Maybe the Greysons are in there, too. So let's do this smart. Sendon, Neren - you're our best fighters. Go back around and come in through the front. I'll go in through the back. Jacob, back me up...."

    As the others got into position, Sam grabbed the aluminum lid of a nearby trashcan and kicked down the backdoor. He entered the store, shrouded in darkness without a hint of light. The stench of death and rot was even worse inside. But he also detected the smell of wet fur.

    And then he heard the growls.

    He spun and brought up the trash can lid on reflex and was rewarded with the clanging thud of something feral and heavy slamming into his impromptu shield. Sam pushed back, putting distance between him and his wild assailant. Though the shadows made it difficult to see detail, he was able to discern that his attacker was a large wolf with the head of a baby crocodile, all drool and snapping jaws.

    "Shit, what a freak show," Sam grimaced. The hybrid leaped at him with its long, snapping jaws. He countered by jamming the trash can lid into its mouth and throwing it into a nearby table, shattering it. Sam then picked up a broken table leg and swung at the beast repeatedly in smooth, swift, and powerful arcs. The crocodile head quickly bruised up and one of its eyes burst into a mixture of blood and ocular fluid from one devastating blow.

    The creature, enraged by pain, body-slammed Sam into a wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The wanderer reached up and grabbed hold of a wall-mounted phone near his hand, ripping the apparatus free and swinging it by the cord like a flail. He shattered the phone against the beast's skull, then jumped off the wall and over the beast, so that he landed behind it....

    ...And next to the discarded trash can lid. The creature's maw had ripped the metal apart, leaving many sharp and rough edges. Sam heard the creature behind him, ready to pounce once more. Sam dropped to his back while slashing across with the ragged edge of the lid. The sharpened edge tore through the beast's throat and it crashed to the ground in a gout of blood as it gurgled and choked. Moments later, it went still.

    Panting, Sam got back to his feet, eyes peeled for friend and foe alike.

    ---

    AUGUST 14, 2016
    LONDON, ENGLAND

    In many ways, Raven Tallwood was like any other eighteen-year-old girl. Eager to graduate from high school and enter university, expand her horizons, take her first steps as an independent young woman...and maybe, just maybe, find a guy who wasn't just into her to get into her pants.

    In some very important ways, Raven Tallwood was not like other eighteen-year-old girls. Her extracurricular activities required even more concentration, dedication, and effort than her schoolwork. Those same activities dominated her home life, forcing her to repeatedly choose her family over her friends or social life. It often got to the point that she felt it was the only thing that truly mattered...whether or not she liked it.

    For the truth was that Raven Tallwood was not normal. She was a mage. An honest to goodness mage.

    Hers was a distinguished lineage. There were many different names that married into and out of the bloodline, but a strong propensity for magical ability was always incorporated into each generation. The core family tree never strayed from ensuring that two powerful mages met and produced equally powerful heirs. The Tallwoods of England traced their history back to the Aegils of Wales, to Aleister Crowley, the Italian mystic Alessandro di Caligostro, the German summoner Johann Reuchlin...all the way back to - supposedly - the legendary wizard Merlin himself.

    At least, that's what her grandfather ceaselessly pounded into her head since she was a little girl.

    It was too much, sometimes. Her grandfather was a harsh taskmaster, as befit the single most powerful mage in the last century. Others in the magical community positively compared her grandfather to their ancestor, Merlin. But in Raven's opinion, her grandfather was not just a powerful magician...he was also a colossal, overly critical, demanding, and unrelenting old jerk.

    Nothing seemed good enough for him. Raven knew in her heart that he just wanted her to reach her full potential - as the last Tallwood, she was the sole heiress to Merlin's bloodline - but he just kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing.

    So, she decided to sneak out of the mansion while her grandfather was away on business. Just a short jaunt where she could, for a few hours at least, do something that wasn't magic. She opted to fall on the old feminine standby of shopping.

    And then all hell broke loose at the mall.

    London wasn't exactly a stranger to terror attacks. However, it wasn't every day that the terrorists were stitched together with magic. Raven could tell. She could see it.

    It was her specialty, alchemy. The mystical art of transmuting something into something else. She tried it on herself to impress her grandfather, altering her eyes so that she could see magic and analyze the properties the magic possessed. She called it the Eye of Analysis.

    Her grandfather disparagingly called it 'immensely dangerous.' Human transmutation was simply too risky to do without decades of experience and careful preparation. He had reamed her for hours for turning alchemy upon herself. However, the Eye worked.

    When the terrorists stormed in, Raven saw mana weaved through their bodies. She knew that they were dead and simply reanimated with their cognitive functions more or less intact. The magic utilized was startlingly sophisticated as well. Technically, these creatures should have been zombies, but they were far too advanced, too coordinated, and too skilled to be called that. No normal necromancer created them.

    Raven did the smart than and made a hasty escape from the mall, before the fight between the undead terrorists and the gun-toting soldiers that came to destroy them got any more out of hand. As she fled, she ran into another pack of the creatures assailing a girl around Raven's age with frizzy brown hair.

    The brunette had fallen unconscious, but how she got there was impressive: with a touch, the brunette detonated a gasoline tank in order to flip over a pursuing SUV full of terrorists. Two surviving undead terrorists disembarked the SUV and stalked near the brunette.

    "Hold it right there!" Raven declared, stepping into the fray. Lightning crackled up and down her arms. "Get away from her!" She made them ride the lightning, extending her open palms and unleashing electrical hell upon them. The terrorists crumpled into dust.

    Raven knelt by the brunette's still form. She saw the burns on the girl's arms. "Hey! Hey, stay with me!" she urged, picking up some small pieces of rubble and rubbing them in her palms. Mana seeped from Raven's fingers and into the rubble, transmuting the molecules and atoms into something else: flesh and blood. She pushed these into the brunette's charred arms, using mana to graft them in, accelerating the girl's natural healing. It was delicate work, but Raven had been taught by the best...even if her grandfather was a jerk sometimes....
     
  5. Did you use milk?

    I'm Tough enough to enter, or die trying.

    *Tried and fails to open a new bottle of ketchup*
     
  6. Certainly tough enough!

    [​IMG]

    Now, I command you to let me in!​
     
  7. [​IMG]

    *POINTS VAY AND CHAOS INTO THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF THAT PLACE*
     
  8. EVERYONE IN THIS THREAD IS BABIES

    YOU WILL EAT YOUR HAPPY MEAL AND ENJOY YOUR FREE TOY

    NOT BIG SURPRISE
     
  9. *takes Paorou's toy and pushes him over*
     
  10. I'm tough as cellophane.
     
  11. *eats the weenie hut in one bite*

    Got another there woodrat?
     
  12. *Watches as toy pushes Ampoule over*

    BABIES!
     
  13. *tips over, lands in the sand and cries* ;_; . . .
     
  14. If Clint Eastwood and Rambo had a spawn it would be equal to my toughness.

    *Flexes arms*

    "That's right Ladies, all natural"
     
  15. *Pops October's inflatable arms*
    <.<
     
  16. KEEP CRYING, BABIES. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, WAAAAAAAAA.
     
  17. ┌─┐
    ┴─┴ No, good sir, I'm afraid you are not eligible to set foot in our organization.
    ಠ_ರೃ
     
  18. *Bitchslaps Oro sending his monocyle and hat flying*

    Give me your best shot.