02-19-2018, 12:22 AM
Danger whistled through the air as Kuzuru backpedaled. His eyes caught sight of Okor’s blade careening towards his exposed torso. The prophet’s elephantine frame surged forth like a freight train. A mistake had been made and the demon was to be gutted for it. Overzealous in his pursuit of bloodshed Kuzuru had left his tender innards exposed like an amateur. He clenched his teeth and locked eyes with the charging leviathan. Maliciousness oozed forth from the demon’s countenance and mixed with an underlying sense of lethality that pierced through the plague champion’s body in a way that no corporeal spike ever could. Was this weakness a feint? Okor’s addled brain raced. No, and even if it was what was there to fear? A surprised sound choked out from behind the paladin’s helmet and he broke the assault. Kuzuru used this sudden moment of trepidation to scramble to safety several feet away.
“So!” Kuzuru shouted, scraping his blades against one another, “there is fear in that festering thing you call a heart!”
Okor quickly regained his composure and responded, “you have nothing more… than petty tricks.”
Kuzuru wagged his finger at his opponent, “ah, but which is worse? Being a petty trickster or actually falling for his tricks?”
In response Okor raised his bolt pistol and squeezed the trigger. The rust-covered machine barked and launched an irradiated slug through the air. Kuzuru raised his blades in an “X” formation and braced for impact. Shards of black iron were sent tumbling through the air as the phosphex round slammed into Kuzuru’s defense. The force of impact shattered his blades and blasted his chest with both shrapnel and the infernal payload of Okor’s insidious weaponry. Kuzuru howled in agony and thrashed about as the burning napalm-like gel ate through his shirt and chewed away his bare flesh. Another round whistled past him, decimating one of the countless wraiths that surrounded them. The demon stumbled and tore away his shirt, trying to wipe away the searing liquid. As the pain faded Kuzuru stood tall, revealing the horrid wounds that had been splattered across his chest.
“That shit hurts,” Kuzuru noted through clenched teeth, “honestly I’m not even that cruel.”
What remained of his blades were nothing more than jagged iron teeth traced along his forearms. These shattered chompers shuddered and slithered back into his flesh, leaving behind a barely visible seam. Behind Kuzuru the wraiths howled and cackled in manic excitement, the tempo of their cries reaching a harrowing climax. In this sea of spirits a massive wooden structure emerged. The ground trembled as this wooden leviathan ruptured the earth and crawled towards the heavens. It was simple in construction, two wooden posts connected at the top by a wooden beam with a braided rope looped through a hole in the center. The spirits grabbed at this rope, pulling it tight and raising the guillotine's massive blade. Barbed wire sprouted like vines, twisting itself along the wooden posts and climbing up to the top. As the blade reached its apex Kuzuru’s arm shuddered and fell limp. A slit appeared across his forearm and from this slit sprouted a singular edged blade. This cleaver forced his arm to hang limp as the weight made lifting it for any length of time more trouble than it was worth.
“Are you ready Paleblood?” Kuzuru exclaimed, “I’m taking your head!”
With that declaration the rope was released and the gargantuan blade made its meteoric descent. Kuzuru rushed forth as the guillotine obliterated thousands of lost souls. Okor, in an attempt to stymie the charge, threw a blight grenade at the rapidly approaching demon. Using the momentum of his bullrush Kuzuru spun, swinging the dead weight of his bladed arm through the air. The broad side of his weapon swatted away the grenade and sent its wicked payload tumbling towards Weiss and Anderson. There was no loss of forward progression and the demon still rocketed forth. Okor braced for impact, raising his blade to meet the incoming butcher. The horrible contradiction of blade meeting blade screeched across the battlefield. Kuzuru’s guillotine shoved away Okor’s sword and the demon moved to strike again.
“Tell me,” Kuzuru screamed as he swung for Okor’s torso, “why do you fight!?”
The cleaver slammed into Okor’s gangrenous rib cage, burying itself an inch or two before it was pried loose.
“For fame? For fortune?” Kuzuru’s bellowed, “what makes you tick Paleblood?”
The demon swung for Okor’s head, but the plagued hierophant shifted his weight and absorbed the blow with his shoulder. Metal sheared through ceramite as the guillotine sunk into its victim. Kuzuru tried to free his weapon, but the angle twisted his arm and made dislodging it a difficult proposition. Okor, taking advantage of this lapse in violence swung a fist towards the demon’s ribcage. The demon grunted in pain as Okor hammered away at his abdomen. Kuzuru finally wrenched his weapon free, leaving behind a wedge-shaped gash along the paladin’s pauldron. Despite the cracked ribs in his chest the demon did not dare to stop his assault
“Answer me!” Kuzuru shouted as his weapon was once more deflected, “is it for some noble cause? Or some selfish notion? What separates you from me!?”
For a moment the clash was broken. Kuzuru was left panting, sweating, and covered in a virulent cocktail. Gaping furrows had been carved into the stalwart and implacable frame of Okor Paleblood, not that he paid them any mind. Kuzuru smiled and raised his free hand.
“I know what it is,” Kuzuru said, his voice hoarse from strain, “I don’t have a choice, but you...”
A thin black spike erupted from the center of Kuzuru’s palm. This spike rocketed towards the plague champion, expanding in both diameter and length as it breached Kuzuru’s flesh.
“You’re just too stupid to keel over and die.”
“So!” Kuzuru shouted, scraping his blades against one another, “there is fear in that festering thing you call a heart!”
Okor quickly regained his composure and responded, “you have nothing more… than petty tricks.”
Kuzuru wagged his finger at his opponent, “ah, but which is worse? Being a petty trickster or actually falling for his tricks?”
In response Okor raised his bolt pistol and squeezed the trigger. The rust-covered machine barked and launched an irradiated slug through the air. Kuzuru raised his blades in an “X” formation and braced for impact. Shards of black iron were sent tumbling through the air as the phosphex round slammed into Kuzuru’s defense. The force of impact shattered his blades and blasted his chest with both shrapnel and the infernal payload of Okor’s insidious weaponry. Kuzuru howled in agony and thrashed about as the burning napalm-like gel ate through his shirt and chewed away his bare flesh. Another round whistled past him, decimating one of the countless wraiths that surrounded them. The demon stumbled and tore away his shirt, trying to wipe away the searing liquid. As the pain faded Kuzuru stood tall, revealing the horrid wounds that had been splattered across his chest.
“That shit hurts,” Kuzuru noted through clenched teeth, “honestly I’m not even that cruel.”
What remained of his blades were nothing more than jagged iron teeth traced along his forearms. These shattered chompers shuddered and slithered back into his flesh, leaving behind a barely visible seam. Behind Kuzuru the wraiths howled and cackled in manic excitement, the tempo of their cries reaching a harrowing climax. In this sea of spirits a massive wooden structure emerged. The ground trembled as this wooden leviathan ruptured the earth and crawled towards the heavens. It was simple in construction, two wooden posts connected at the top by a wooden beam with a braided rope looped through a hole in the center. The spirits grabbed at this rope, pulling it tight and raising the guillotine's massive blade. Barbed wire sprouted like vines, twisting itself along the wooden posts and climbing up to the top. As the blade reached its apex Kuzuru’s arm shuddered and fell limp. A slit appeared across his forearm and from this slit sprouted a singular edged blade. This cleaver forced his arm to hang limp as the weight made lifting it for any length of time more trouble than it was worth.
“Are you ready Paleblood?” Kuzuru exclaimed, “I’m taking your head!”
With that declaration the rope was released and the gargantuan blade made its meteoric descent. Kuzuru rushed forth as the guillotine obliterated thousands of lost souls. Okor, in an attempt to stymie the charge, threw a blight grenade at the rapidly approaching demon. Using the momentum of his bullrush Kuzuru spun, swinging the dead weight of his bladed arm through the air. The broad side of his weapon swatted away the grenade and sent its wicked payload tumbling towards Weiss and Anderson. There was no loss of forward progression and the demon still rocketed forth. Okor braced for impact, raising his blade to meet the incoming butcher. The horrible contradiction of blade meeting blade screeched across the battlefield. Kuzuru’s guillotine shoved away Okor’s sword and the demon moved to strike again.
“Tell me,” Kuzuru screamed as he swung for Okor’s torso, “why do you fight!?”
The cleaver slammed into Okor’s gangrenous rib cage, burying itself an inch or two before it was pried loose.
“For fame? For fortune?” Kuzuru’s bellowed, “what makes you tick Paleblood?”
The demon swung for Okor’s head, but the plagued hierophant shifted his weight and absorbed the blow with his shoulder. Metal sheared through ceramite as the guillotine sunk into its victim. Kuzuru tried to free his weapon, but the angle twisted his arm and made dislodging it a difficult proposition. Okor, taking advantage of this lapse in violence swung a fist towards the demon’s ribcage. The demon grunted in pain as Okor hammered away at his abdomen. Kuzuru finally wrenched his weapon free, leaving behind a wedge-shaped gash along the paladin’s pauldron. Despite the cracked ribs in his chest the demon did not dare to stop his assault
“Answer me!” Kuzuru shouted as his weapon was once more deflected, “is it for some noble cause? Or some selfish notion? What separates you from me!?”
For a moment the clash was broken. Kuzuru was left panting, sweating, and covered in a virulent cocktail. Gaping furrows had been carved into the stalwart and implacable frame of Okor Paleblood, not that he paid them any mind. Kuzuru smiled and raised his free hand.
“I know what it is,” Kuzuru said, his voice hoarse from strain, “I don’t have a choice, but you...”
A thin black spike erupted from the center of Kuzuru’s palm. This spike rocketed towards the plague champion, expanding in both diameter and length as it breached Kuzuru’s flesh.
“You’re just too stupid to keel over and die.”
Quote:Kuzuru used “Menace” on Okor and is unable to use it on him again.
Kuzuru used “Battle Trance” to deflect Okor’s grenade.
Popping my tier 2 super attack “Demon Spear” and targeting plagueboy
3/5 SP Remaining
![[Image: ZzG0TJ9.png]](http://i.imgur.com/ZzG0TJ9.png)
![[Image: AshenBladeBadge.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/13/AshenBladeBadge.png)