07-10-2017, 12:29 AM
The horde of undead snowbunnies descended upon the three Liberators, their brand-name winterwear zipping and crackling as they lurched forward. Some wielded ski-poles, sharpened to vicious points. Others wore ice-skates on their hands, slashing with rusted blades; it made them look like idiots, but they were long since too far gone to care. With every passing moment, more appeared, emerging from the cabins or clawing their way out of the dark, drifted snow.
From the air, lithe, predatory forms dove and swooped on snowy wings, with the heads and talons of owls and the bodies of elderly women. Higher on the slopes, beyond the cabins and the central lodge, the yetis bellowed as they raced downhill on snowboards, empty bags in hand. Though they seemed reluctant to interrupt their work, several dismounted, dropping their satchels and lumbering towards the fray.
On the rear patio of the main lodge, beside a trio of steaming hot-tubs and a heated swimming pool, crystaline goblins in porter's uniforms hawked cups of hot-chocolate from atop folding table. The zombies ignored them, but one of the wintery harpies took a break from harrying the Primes in order to haggle with the diminuitive fiends over a refreshing warm beverage, screeching loudly.
Blades and magic flashed as the Liberators battled their way forward, off-color snow and tainted ice crunching underfoot. Keldor spun his havoc-staff and smashed a mummified snow-bro wearing a North Face jacket and broken goggles to the ground. He growled at the approaching yetis.
"Curses! Just what we needed! More hirsute halfwits!"
Kopaka's sword flashed, cutting down a harpy mid-dive. The creature barreled past the disguised conqueror closely enough that if he'd had a real nose, he would have been able to smell it.
"Watch your back," the Toa said, bashing a charging revenant in a sweatsuit with his shield. Keldor responded by throwing a blast of Magic past the ice-elemental's shoulder. A blonde zombie in a midriff-bearing pink half-coat and ugg-boots crumbled.
"You watch yours, machine! We need to get to that Ski-Lodge! There are too many of these frozen fools for us to fight in the op-AH!"
A ski-pole jabbed him in the back, perforating his sturdy blue flesh. He wheeled, and crushed the dessicated perpetrator with single, mighty blow. "I was TALKING!"
"Less talking," said Weiss, leaping and parrying frantically, her rapier flashing red in the strange, dim light. "More running."
It was sound advice. The three of them made a dash for the multistory manse at the center of the complex, ducking, rolling, slashing and blasting as they shouldered their way past Nebula's undead servants. Ahead of them, a trio of yetis - smaller and less colorful than TriKy FLipZ, but better dressed in stocking-caps, scarves and designer shades - leapt from the nearby rooftops to block their path, raising a brief flurry of fresh powder when they landed. They had snowboards tucked under their enormous, bulging arms and murder in their eyes.
"This is bad!" said Weiss, skidding to a halt.
A wicked grin flashed across Keldor's flickering countenance. "Not necessearily."
The lone snowmobiling cyborg made a pass on his crimson conveyance, cackling madly. The Eternian sorcerer stepped, pivoted, and swung his staff. A crack rang out, like a melon being struck with a sack full of steel bearings, and the half-human thing's head flew free of its shoulders. The snowmobile drifted a halt, its engine idling softly.
All the zombies froze. The harpies fluttered and stared, chittered and crowed. A feeling of disbelief, sadness, and imminent anger rolled across the snowscape.
Apparently, the snowmobiler was well-liked.
"I think we should go." said Kopaka, and hurried to help Keldor, who was forcibly separating the rest of the cyborg from his ride. Weiss agreed, sprinting to join him.
The Yeti's roared. The Zombies moaned. The harpies screamed.
All three Primes scrambled aboard, Keldor at the helm, Kopaka at his back, and Weiss clinging perilously to rear. Their enemies charged. The engine roared, and a jet of fire shot out the back, uncomfortably close to the Huntress's feet.
"HAVE YOU EVER DONE THIS BEFORE?" Weiss screamed as they shot across the snow. Their ride briefly went airborne as they crushed a zombie beneath their blazing treads, plowing through several of its putrid peers. Shards of ice flew as they hit the ground, and the warlock whipped them around in a wide arc, trailing fire and clouds of rapidly-refreezing spray. The last-second bootlegger turn just barely avoided sending them rocketing off into the abyss they had only recently crossed.
Weiss nearly lost her grip, hanging on with just one hand as she swung out over the void, feeling emptiness below her for a moment that went on for far too long.
Finally, she slammed against Kopaka's less-than-yielding exoskeleton, and the wind rushed otu of her. "I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!" Keldor screamed, exultant above the horrible roar of the engine. The treads spun, fighting for a hold in the snow, and for a moment they went nowhere. "Now hang on tight! "
The treads caught. The rocket-powered vehicle lurched forward, and they were off again.
The snowmobile hadn't been this fast when its former owner was riding it - but Keldor didn't have time to figure out how the throttle worked. They tore hellbent towards the ski-lodge, barely weaving between decaying cabins and bumping dangerously over winter-sport-revenants as they broke through the shambling mob and closed the last thirty feet between them and the patio.
Only the yeti's stood in their way now.
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE," said Kopaka. "IN A FIERY, YETI-SMELLING EXPLOSION. YOU IDIOT!"
He was nearly right. At the last second, the yeti's had the same thought, and they dove aside. The rocket-sled hit the patio's steps with a horrible crunch, and its front-tread tore lose as it left the ground. All three Primes lost their grip on the vehicle - and each other - still moving at an insane speed as they tumbled through the sky. Their ride crashed through the ski-lodge, outpacing them mid-air, its still-firing rocket spurring it onward.
There was a brief impression of red leather, tasteful timber, a brick fireplace, and a wall with three empty trophy-plaques mounted on it - flashing past through a flurry of shattered wood, red plastic, burning debris, and breaking glass. Then, they were embedded in a snow drift, at various uncomfortable angles; The trio had crashed clear through the building in the wake of their fiery chariot, landing on the downslope side of the now-merrily-burning ski lodge.
Righting themselves with a great deal of wincing and groaning, they found that there was only one enemy in sight on this side of the building: a very round, very angry-looking robot, standing about fifteen feet uphill, in front of the Lodge's shattered picture-windows.
It's body was a sphere, painted orange on top and white on the bottom, the two colors separated by a jagged blue stripe, reminiscent of a tacky winter sweater. It's arms were spindly, ending in a pair of blue-and-white gauntlets, and its legs were similarly proportioned, terminating in a pair of blue metal boots.
It didn't have much of a head - just a pair of large yellow eyes beneath an orange winter cap with a white pom-pom on the top. In the middle of its chest, where one might expect an ominously-glowing power-core, was an icon depicting a happy snowman.
Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, it was on skis.
"WHAT," it bellowed, in a surprisingly nasal tone, its synthesized voice abuzz with static, " HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SKI-LODGE?"
From the air, lithe, predatory forms dove and swooped on snowy wings, with the heads and talons of owls and the bodies of elderly women. Higher on the slopes, beyond the cabins and the central lodge, the yetis bellowed as they raced downhill on snowboards, empty bags in hand. Though they seemed reluctant to interrupt their work, several dismounted, dropping their satchels and lumbering towards the fray.
On the rear patio of the main lodge, beside a trio of steaming hot-tubs and a heated swimming pool, crystaline goblins in porter's uniforms hawked cups of hot-chocolate from atop folding table. The zombies ignored them, but one of the wintery harpies took a break from harrying the Primes in order to haggle with the diminuitive fiends over a refreshing warm beverage, screeching loudly.
Blades and magic flashed as the Liberators battled their way forward, off-color snow and tainted ice crunching underfoot. Keldor spun his havoc-staff and smashed a mummified snow-bro wearing a North Face jacket and broken goggles to the ground. He growled at the approaching yetis.
"Curses! Just what we needed! More hirsute halfwits!"
Kopaka's sword flashed, cutting down a harpy mid-dive. The creature barreled past the disguised conqueror closely enough that if he'd had a real nose, he would have been able to smell it.
"Watch your back," the Toa said, bashing a charging revenant in a sweatsuit with his shield. Keldor responded by throwing a blast of Magic past the ice-elemental's shoulder. A blonde zombie in a midriff-bearing pink half-coat and ugg-boots crumbled.
"You watch yours, machine! We need to get to that Ski-Lodge! There are too many of these frozen fools for us to fight in the op-AH!"
A ski-pole jabbed him in the back, perforating his sturdy blue flesh. He wheeled, and crushed the dessicated perpetrator with single, mighty blow. "I was TALKING!"
"Less talking," said Weiss, leaping and parrying frantically, her rapier flashing red in the strange, dim light. "More running."
It was sound advice. The three of them made a dash for the multistory manse at the center of the complex, ducking, rolling, slashing and blasting as they shouldered their way past Nebula's undead servants. Ahead of them, a trio of yetis - smaller and less colorful than TriKy FLipZ, but better dressed in stocking-caps, scarves and designer shades - leapt from the nearby rooftops to block their path, raising a brief flurry of fresh powder when they landed. They had snowboards tucked under their enormous, bulging arms and murder in their eyes.
"This is bad!" said Weiss, skidding to a halt.
A wicked grin flashed across Keldor's flickering countenance. "Not necessearily."
The lone snowmobiling cyborg made a pass on his crimson conveyance, cackling madly. The Eternian sorcerer stepped, pivoted, and swung his staff. A crack rang out, like a melon being struck with a sack full of steel bearings, and the half-human thing's head flew free of its shoulders. The snowmobile drifted a halt, its engine idling softly.
All the zombies froze. The harpies fluttered and stared, chittered and crowed. A feeling of disbelief, sadness, and imminent anger rolled across the snowscape.
Apparently, the snowmobiler was well-liked.
"I think we should go." said Kopaka, and hurried to help Keldor, who was forcibly separating the rest of the cyborg from his ride. Weiss agreed, sprinting to join him.
The Yeti's roared. The Zombies moaned. The harpies screamed.
All three Primes scrambled aboard, Keldor at the helm, Kopaka at his back, and Weiss clinging perilously to rear. Their enemies charged. The engine roared, and a jet of fire shot out the back, uncomfortably close to the Huntress's feet.
"HAVE YOU EVER DONE THIS BEFORE?" Weiss screamed as they shot across the snow. Their ride briefly went airborne as they crushed a zombie beneath their blazing treads, plowing through several of its putrid peers. Shards of ice flew as they hit the ground, and the warlock whipped them around in a wide arc, trailing fire and clouds of rapidly-refreezing spray. The last-second bootlegger turn just barely avoided sending them rocketing off into the abyss they had only recently crossed.
Weiss nearly lost her grip, hanging on with just one hand as she swung out over the void, feeling emptiness below her for a moment that went on for far too long.
Finally, she slammed against Kopaka's less-than-yielding exoskeleton, and the wind rushed otu of her. "I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!" Keldor screamed, exultant above the horrible roar of the engine. The treads spun, fighting for a hold in the snow, and for a moment they went nowhere. "Now hang on tight! "
The treads caught. The rocket-powered vehicle lurched forward, and they were off again.
The snowmobile hadn't been this fast when its former owner was riding it - but Keldor didn't have time to figure out how the throttle worked. They tore hellbent towards the ski-lodge, barely weaving between decaying cabins and bumping dangerously over winter-sport-revenants as they broke through the shambling mob and closed the last thirty feet between them and the patio.
Only the yeti's stood in their way now.
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE," said Kopaka. "IN A FIERY, YETI-SMELLING EXPLOSION. YOU IDIOT!"
He was nearly right. At the last second, the yeti's had the same thought, and they dove aside. The rocket-sled hit the patio's steps with a horrible crunch, and its front-tread tore lose as it left the ground. All three Primes lost their grip on the vehicle - and each other - still moving at an insane speed as they tumbled through the sky. Their ride crashed through the ski-lodge, outpacing them mid-air, its still-firing rocket spurring it onward.
There was a brief impression of red leather, tasteful timber, a brick fireplace, and a wall with three empty trophy-plaques mounted on it - flashing past through a flurry of shattered wood, red plastic, burning debris, and breaking glass. Then, they were embedded in a snow drift, at various uncomfortable angles; The trio had crashed clear through the building in the wake of their fiery chariot, landing on the downslope side of the now-merrily-burning ski lodge.
Righting themselves with a great deal of wincing and groaning, they found that there was only one enemy in sight on this side of the building: a very round, very angry-looking robot, standing about fifteen feet uphill, in front of the Lodge's shattered picture-windows.
It's body was a sphere, painted orange on top and white on the bottom, the two colors separated by a jagged blue stripe, reminiscent of a tacky winter sweater. It's arms were spindly, ending in a pair of blue-and-white gauntlets, and its legs were similarly proportioned, terminating in a pair of blue metal boots.
It didn't have much of a head - just a pair of large yellow eyes beneath an orange winter cap with a white pom-pom on the top. In the middle of its chest, where one might expect an ominously-glowing power-core, was an icon depicting a happy snowman.
Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, it was on skis.
"WHAT," it bellowed, in a surprisingly nasal tone, its synthesized voice abuzz with static, " HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SKI-LODGE?"
Quote:Damage Report:
-- Kopaka takes 1 point of damage.
-- Skeletor takes 2 points of damage.
-- Weiss takes 4 points of damage.
-- Everyone takes 1 point of additional damage from being awesome their snowmobile shenanigans.
You have been confronted with the Darkloid in charge of the Frozen Fields! You know what that means!
[aling=center]Frozen Fields Final Boss
BlizzardMan.EXE
As expected, Blizzard Man is an ace skier, and at home on the snowy slopes of this place. He controls snow and blizzards virtually freely, able to whip up clouds of powder and biting gales in the blink of an eye. Despite his comical appearance, he's extremely tough, and surprisingly competent. Battle stats are as follows:
Proficiencies: Physical Strength, Ranged, Ranged Materialize, Area Attack, Area Defense, Homing, Debuff
Powers: Basic Super Jumping, Master Acrobat, Hive Mind, Disassemble, Survival
Stats
ATK: 4
DEF: 6
SPD: 3
TEC: 2
Moves:
Snow Crash: Blizzard Man rolls himself up into a huge snowball, crashing into a target. It explodes in a shower of razor-sharp icicles and shrapnel, leaving the darkloid to spring back to his feet under the distraction.
Powder Rain: Blizzard Man conjures up a shower of razor-sharp snowflakes to drift down toward his foes, homing in on them. They are incredibly sharp, and incredibly tough despite their fragile apperance.
Snow Cone: Blizzard Man exhales a gust of chilling wind from the snowman emblem on his chest. It reaches out to about two meters, and spreads into a two meter cone. Anything caught in the area is rapidly frozen solid for several seconds. The duration is about ten seconds, minus one for every point of ATK the target has.
Ski Kick: Blizzard Man kicks a target with his skis. It's clumsy, but powerful.
Ski Poles: Blizzard man strikes at a target with his ski poles. It gives him a little bit of reach, and can be used for clubbing or stabbing a target.
These are just some ideas. His full arsenal is more or less open for you to go crazy with.
You have one week to make one post up to 1200 words to combat this blizzard-y scourge. Have at it!
![[Image: 640?cb=20080705024034]](https://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/megaman/images/f/f3/BlizzardEXE.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/640?cb=20080705024034)