06-18-2017, 07:31 AM
The foursome of Liberators hastened through the portal, keen on striking down Nebula’s recently departed commander despite their injuries. As they arrived in Nebula space, the scope of the pocket verse unfurled before their eyes. Though nowhere near the size of Camelot proper, the vast expanse of grassy plains gave the darkling realm a sense of breadth. Off in the distance the Primes spied many citadels and manufacturing plants dotting the horizon, the latter churning away to accomplish Nebula’s goals.
“Do you ‘Liberators’ lust for death?” Centaur Man stood a few meters away, his back to them. Even as he spoke, he didn’t offer so much as a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll warn you only once: turn back now. Nebula will not be stopped.”
“Wrong,” Samus asserted, aiming her primed canon at the commander. “Nebula falls by our hand.”
The centaur chuckled softly, seeming almost somber. “If you insist on this, then you leave me little choice.”
Centaur Man slowly raised an arm, palm skyward, as the Liberators prepared their attacks. In an instant, a Dark Chip appeared within his iron mitt, electricity dancing upon its ebony surface. It hung there for a few seconds, suspended just above his outstretched hand as a volley of various projectiles slammed into his flank. As the blows hit home, Centaur Man snapped his hand into a tight fist, crushing the sinister silicon.
“He’s activating that chip,” Hiro commented, unloading another shuriken salvo. “This isn’t good.”
Before any of the ronin’s comrades could reply, their foe turned to face them, eyes alight with the fires of Nebula. His previously noble visage twisted into a maddened grin, tarry black sludge dribbling afresh from his eyes and mouth. Ominous violet light shone brightly through the scratches and mars in the centaur’s armor, casting strange and intricate shadows upon the grass. In the commander’s hand appeared his glaive, the polearm itself glowing a similar shade of bright lilac.
Without so much as a word, the mythical machine barreled toward them, mania in his eyes.
“Do you ‘Liberators’ lust for death?” Centaur Man stood a few meters away, his back to them. Even as he spoke, he didn’t offer so much as a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll warn you only once: turn back now. Nebula will not be stopped.”
“Wrong,” Samus asserted, aiming her primed canon at the commander. “Nebula falls by our hand.”
The centaur chuckled softly, seeming almost somber. “If you insist on this, then you leave me little choice.”
Centaur Man slowly raised an arm, palm skyward, as the Liberators prepared their attacks. In an instant, a Dark Chip appeared within his iron mitt, electricity dancing upon its ebony surface. It hung there for a few seconds, suspended just above his outstretched hand as a volley of various projectiles slammed into his flank. As the blows hit home, Centaur Man snapped his hand into a tight fist, crushing the sinister silicon.
“He’s activating that chip,” Hiro commented, unloading another shuriken salvo. “This isn’t good.”
Before any of the ronin’s comrades could reply, their foe turned to face them, eyes alight with the fires of Nebula. His previously noble visage twisted into a maddened grin, tarry black sludge dribbling afresh from his eyes and mouth. Ominous violet light shone brightly through the scratches and mars in the centaur’s armor, casting strange and intricate shadows upon the grass. In the commander’s hand appeared his glaive, the polearm itself glowing a similar shade of bright lilac.
Without so much as a word, the mythical machine barreled toward them, mania in his eyes.
Quote:Centaur Man makes his last stand. He is heavily injured, but not going down just yet.
Centaur Man used Dark Chip: Power Up -- Dark Overload. New stats are as follows:
ATK: 6
DEF: 6
SPD: 6
TEC: 4
You have up to 72 hours to make one post, up to 1000 words, to finish off this fight. Good luck!