As the chains jutted out from Desman’s torso, the redhead yowled. There were six of them, composed of a blue energy; sawtooth blades, coated in Desman’s blood, ran down each of their spines, stopping at the shank-like heads.
Gilgamesh watched, motionless as a statue. A mixture of awe and disgust contorted his visage with an agrog frown, like an expecting father observing his spouse’s vagina accomodate for the size of their crowning infant. He finally moved when one of the spiked chains nearly lashed him, parrying the full extent of his four foot cable as the chain whipped past to join its siblings on the other side of the boulder.
The mercenary glowered at Erik. ”What the fuck!?” His voice thundered. ”You can turn into a knock-off Dr. Octopus, and you didn’t tell me about it?! Think of the fodder!”
Two of the chains burrowed into the ground, exploding snow and small stones into the air, which blanketed the rock concealing Deadpool’s adversaries. They straightened and went taut, lifting Desman into the air, over the rock; Gilgamesh rode his back, one hand resting a large scythe over his shoulders, the other gripping Desman’s cape to stay mounted.
“Now’s not the time to argue,” Erik said. He took the form of an archer, and manifested his purple bow. “Target the chains being used for movement!”
”Fuck that, let’s shoot them in the face,” the mercenary asserted. ”I think my arm is starting to feel better--I can make that shot.”
Desman and Gilgamesh now lumbered towards them on four iron legs, splashing snow everu time a chain sank into the ground. The king perched further up his partner’s back, near his shoulders. He held his scythe with both hands, choking the butt and neck of it. A spiteful grin was plastered across his face.
Erik growled. “Do what you want then.” He took aim, and loosed an arrow.
It struck the front left chain, but had little effect; Erik loosed another.
”I’m gunning for Gilly’s front teeth,” the mercenary said.
He pulled a pistol out with his right hand, and aimed at Gilgamesh’s handsome mug. Simple shot--a shot he could easily make in his sleep, even while dreaming about life as Tony Stark, parading around intoxicated. But not a simple shot with an arm still recovering from complete dismemberment. Deadpool shot three rounds. None hit--two went between Desman’s legs, lodging themselves in the boulder, and the last was so inaccurate it vanished off the summit.
“He missed!” Gilgamesh exclaimed. “Quick, attack him now!”
One of Desman’s two free chains winded back, then hissed as it snapped forward at the mercenary.
It was at that moment Deadpool realized he fucked up.
”Well fuck me, and paint my ass gay-pride rainbow,” he mercenary muttered.
The chain came down hard, smashing into the left side of Deadpool’s neck with the might of a falling tree. The mercenary crashed sideways, into the snow, barely breaking his fall with his right forearm. He gritted his teeth as a sharp pain reverberated up his arm, rattling the tender ligaments not yet fully healed in his shoulder and around his clavicle.
“Wade!” Erik yelled. His bow and arrow dissolved.
He attempted to drag Deadpool closer to him, before the chain could strike again, but when he went to tug on his cable, the other chain--coming from the right side--swung at him; Erik threw out a palm towards the chain, and called upon his psionic powers to generate a barrier. The purple wall flashed in front of him just in time, saving him from a fate similar to Deadpool’s. Blue and violet sparks spat from the point of contact, dancing in the whistling breeze together, as the chain persisted to try and drive through Erik’s defense
Gilgamesh rocketed from Desman’s back, cocking back his scythe as he descended upon Erik. He intended on cutting through the mage’s wall and the mage, in one forceful slash, presumably cutting himself a spot into the next round of Dante’s Abyss as well. His face displayed his confidence; with his eyes burning with desire, and his tongue sticking out, the king levered his scythe into Erik’s barrier. The long, curved blade dug deep into the mage’s defense, slitting the wall halfway.
“I will cut your wall in two!” Gilgamesh roared.
Erik now used both palms to support his technique. “Deadpool! For the damned Gods, get up and help me!” He barked, beaming his eyes towards the mercenary.
Deadpool slowly returned to his feet, cracking his neck, reassuring that it wasn’t broken. He gazed back at his ally, oddly embarrassed--now it was Erik saving his hide.
The mercenary reached for his waist with his left hand, snatching a furry red toy from his belt. ”Super Serial Furypool time.”
He winced as he gingerly stuck his right index into Furbypool’s rectum , but found mild solace in its eyes glowing a milky blue.
”Hope you three are wearing your brown underwear.”
Gilgamesh watched, motionless as a statue. A mixture of awe and disgust contorted his visage with an agrog frown, like an expecting father observing his spouse’s vagina accomodate for the size of their crowning infant. He finally moved when one of the spiked chains nearly lashed him, parrying the full extent of his four foot cable as the chain whipped past to join its siblings on the other side of the boulder.
The mercenary glowered at Erik. ”What the fuck!?” His voice thundered. ”You can turn into a knock-off Dr. Octopus, and you didn’t tell me about it?! Think of the fodder!”
Two of the chains burrowed into the ground, exploding snow and small stones into the air, which blanketed the rock concealing Deadpool’s adversaries. They straightened and went taut, lifting Desman into the air, over the rock; Gilgamesh rode his back, one hand resting a large scythe over his shoulders, the other gripping Desman’s cape to stay mounted.
“Now’s not the time to argue,” Erik said. He took the form of an archer, and manifested his purple bow. “Target the chains being used for movement!”
”Fuck that, let’s shoot them in the face,” the mercenary asserted. ”I think my arm is starting to feel better--I can make that shot.”
Desman and Gilgamesh now lumbered towards them on four iron legs, splashing snow everu time a chain sank into the ground. The king perched further up his partner’s back, near his shoulders. He held his scythe with both hands, choking the butt and neck of it. A spiteful grin was plastered across his face.
Erik growled. “Do what you want then.” He took aim, and loosed an arrow.
It struck the front left chain, but had little effect; Erik loosed another.
”I’m gunning for Gilly’s front teeth,” the mercenary said.
He pulled a pistol out with his right hand, and aimed at Gilgamesh’s handsome mug. Simple shot--a shot he could easily make in his sleep, even while dreaming about life as Tony Stark, parading around intoxicated. But not a simple shot with an arm still recovering from complete dismemberment. Deadpool shot three rounds. None hit--two went between Desman’s legs, lodging themselves in the boulder, and the last was so inaccurate it vanished off the summit.
“He missed!” Gilgamesh exclaimed. “Quick, attack him now!”
One of Desman’s two free chains winded back, then hissed as it snapped forward at the mercenary.
It was at that moment Deadpool realized he fucked up.
”Well fuck me, and paint my ass gay-pride rainbow,” he mercenary muttered.
The chain came down hard, smashing into the left side of Deadpool’s neck with the might of a falling tree. The mercenary crashed sideways, into the snow, barely breaking his fall with his right forearm. He gritted his teeth as a sharp pain reverberated up his arm, rattling the tender ligaments not yet fully healed in his shoulder and around his clavicle.
“Wade!” Erik yelled. His bow and arrow dissolved.
He attempted to drag Deadpool closer to him, before the chain could strike again, but when he went to tug on his cable, the other chain--coming from the right side--swung at him; Erik threw out a palm towards the chain, and called upon his psionic powers to generate a barrier. The purple wall flashed in front of him just in time, saving him from a fate similar to Deadpool’s. Blue and violet sparks spat from the point of contact, dancing in the whistling breeze together, as the chain persisted to try and drive through Erik’s defense
Gilgamesh rocketed from Desman’s back, cocking back his scythe as he descended upon Erik. He intended on cutting through the mage’s wall and the mage, in one forceful slash, presumably cutting himself a spot into the next round of Dante’s Abyss as well. His face displayed his confidence; with his eyes burning with desire, and his tongue sticking out, the king levered his scythe into Erik’s barrier. The long, curved blade dug deep into the mage’s defense, slitting the wall halfway.
“I will cut your wall in two!” Gilgamesh roared.
Erik now used both palms to support his technique. “Deadpool! For the damned Gods, get up and help me!” He barked, beaming his eyes towards the mercenary.
Deadpool slowly returned to his feet, cracking his neck, reassuring that it wasn’t broken. He gazed back at his ally, oddly embarrassed--now it was Erik saving his hide.
The mercenary reached for his waist with his left hand, snatching a furry red toy from his belt. ”Super Serial Furypool time.”
He winced as he gingerly stuck his right index into Furbypool’s rectum , but found mild solace in its eyes glowing a milky blue.
”Hope you three are wearing your brown underwear.”
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![[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/Deadpool_Funny.png)
Dante's Abyss Placings
2015 - 4th
2015 - 4th
2016 - 2nd
2017 - 4th
PVP Combat Record
(One-on-One)
3W - 0L - 0D
3W - 0L - 0D
(TAG-TEAM)
1W - 1L - 0D
[/float]![[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/Aerogfx/media/sigs/Deadpool_Funny.png.html)