Somerled Murdoch VS Homin-Ratione IC [Mock Fight] [MATURE - GORE]

[homin-Ratione]

“Kanda-kun!” The girl with silver hair called out above the crowd, waving her arm high above her head. Around her stood two more high school girls and what appeared to be an elementary student. The elder two, one taller and more physically matured with dark hair, the other of average height and body type for a girl her age with reddish hair, both looked over to where the silver-haired girl was calling. The elementary student seemed to be fixated on something shiny in the window of the store they were standing just outside of, only slightly acknowledging the presence of the generic, brown-haired scrawny kid with dull eyes and a cookie-cutter face that waltzed over all five of them.
 
All of the girls were in their best casual clothing, in order to impress their fellow male student. The mature girl was in tight jeans with a t-shirt and tank top that complemented her pronounced bust, the red-haired girl was in a simple skirt long-sleeved tee, the silver haired girl in a blouse and tee-vest combo, the elementary student in shorts, striped stockings, and a long-sleeve.
 
The boy was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that made him look skinnier than he even actually was.
 
After threading through the dense crowds around the Japanese mall, Kanda began to discuss the day’s plans with the girls, all of them doting after his every word like puppies. Even the little one’s cheeks were a slight shade of red whenever the boy’s attention was focused on her.
 
“Well, I figure we might as well start checking things off the list.” Kanda prompted the group to start moving down the rows of stores lining the mall hallway, when suddenly the mature girl began holding onto his arm.
 
“Um… Kanako-san… why are you grabbing onto me?”
 
“Oh, Kanda-kun, these hallways are so crowded. I wouldn’t want to get separated from you!”
 
“Okay, but what about the others?”
 
“Oh they’ll be fine.”
 
“And Chifuyu-san?”
 
“You know for a girl so young she sure has a good head on her shoulders! Come on let’s go!” The mature girl began dragging the boy along with her, as the rest of the girls tailed behind and protested the PDA.
 
None of them were able to react quickly enough to loud crack, then the heavy, humanoid object flying down the hallway at them. In the blink of an eye, a suit of steel flew past them, sending papers on store fronts and kiosks fluttering about and any loose objects to the ground. A women started asking where the hell her purse had gone. When their minds finally caught up to what just happened, all five of the girls looked back to where the presumed the source of the sudden flying object was.
 
At the end of the hallway, at the edge of the open plaza, was a single man in a grey suit. However, the suit was wrinkled and torn at places, the man’s black hair all messy and tangled, and his cloudy grey eyes sent out a look of unrelenting, unbridled… hunger.
 
“What is going on?” The mature girl looked back to where the object had flown by, only to see something that looked like a cross between a medieval knight and the terminator making its way back down the hall. Far behind it, there was a hole in the wall in front of a restroom, and water was spraying out of the sinks in both the men’s and women’s sections. People began filing out of the rooms, most uninjured, but one woman was now missing a finger.
 
“Kanda-kun we should get out of he-“ The girl turned to look at the boy, gripping his arm tighter, only to see that was all that was left of her friend. Just his left arm, torn clean off from the rest of his body. There was a scream, not from her but from the silver haired girl. The red head somehow managed to keep her cool, and grabbed the elementary student in order to shield her eyes from the sight.
 
Suddenly, the armored thing strode past them all, and the mature girl got a good look at it. It was tall, much taller than any man she had seen. Its helmet had two prongs jutting out from the front, on the top and bottom of a visor in front of where a face would be. It was making its way back towards the man who she could only guess was the one who had thrown it that way in the first place.
 
“Japanese man with supernatural abilities.” The armored thing’s voice bellowed out from what sounded like speakers. “You are interfering with business of the Faction of the Third. You are not part of this conflict, you do not need make self a part. Please leave.” It spoke in broken Japanese, like it had just learned the language yesterday.

[Clownpiece]

Fear.

Every panicked scream and shriek expelled more into the air, more of this energy. Each terrified exclamation served only to incite even more panic, and fill the air with even more of that delicious ethereal ambrosia. Unconsciously, he salivated, unable or unwilling to hide the pure hunger he was experiencing.

As much as this human horror was the driving force of his life, it wasn’t what Somerled was after. The monster had his eyes set on something else, something far more desirable. He prowled towards the shattered bathroom wall, his body quivering in anticipation, and his ravenous gaze set upon one person.

Clad in a towering suit of armor, now picking itself off the ground, was an unknown humanoid, far too large to be one of the meek meatbags scurrying away. The storm demon cared not who he was, such a thing was wholly unimportant to him. It was only that pure energy that the being seemed to radiate, such a powerful and brilliant aura, that he desired.

With mechanical grace, the armor stepped forth, clearing the concrete rubble without so much as a stumble. A voice boomed out from the machinery, letting loose a voice full of confidence and steadiness that seemed to fly in the face of the throw it had just experienced. His demands, of course, were completely pointless. Nothing he could say or do would jar Somerled off of this course, and so he just ignored them. All of the broken Japanese fumbled at him was tuned out, every pretense of blending in was thrown out the window.

His grey suit already ragged and dusty, the once-unassuming salaryman was now positively foaming at the mouth, envious of that beautiful power behind that hulking metal. Whatever it was, it would be his, even if he had to pry open the armor with broken and bloodied hands. Clad in only a few layers of fabric, and without a single weapon at his side, the monster let out a voracious roar, and charged down the metallic behemoth.

[homin-Ratione]

For some reason, Ratione seemed to just know that his warning would not be headed.
 
As soon as the “human” began sprinting down the hallway with more speed than any human being should have the right to, his right hand instinctively went to draw his hand-and-a-half sword, sliding it out and gripping the pommel with his left palm. The Furtumin was just able to take a stance, left food forward and right foot back with his toes aimed at the target, holding the blade up over his right shoulder in a high and powerful guard.
 
When the man was on him, they lunged for his stomach in an attempt to grapple the Novan around the waist. Ratione swung down, keeping his hilt close to his torso and using his left hand to leverage the massive object in order to whip it like it was a stick. The cross-guard was the first thing to connect with his opponent, whacking him straight in the shoulder. As this was done, Ratione brought his right foot forward and leaned his upper half back, allowing the momentum of the Japanese man’s body to be redirected to the side. His blade was just barely able to give a good gash on his back and buttocks.
 
However, the energy that was carried by the pounce was enough to cause the Furtumin to stumbled back a bit. He teetered for a moment trying to keep his balance and lost his grip on the pommel, even as the man had flown past him. He rolled across the ground a few times before getting back on his feet, even knocking a few bystanders off theirs. Ratione god one good look at his eyes, even more fiery and bloodthirsty now that he had presented himself as an obstacle, before they sprinted back down.
 
This time his enemy kept their head and hands up, balling them into fists. Ratione put his feet back into place, left forward and right back, this time holding the blade at his waist and keeping the tip in front of him.
 
The first his opponent tried was throwing a weak right jab, swinging his weight in the opposite direction, in a bid to fake out the Novan. This was replied with the arm being nearly sliced off by the blade, and Ratione swinging back his right foot in order to rotate with his assailant and keep his front to him. A right hook came next, slapped upward by the Furtumin’s right elbow as he brought it up. This sacrificed the defense on his lower body, and the Japanese man managed to get a good swing into his gut.
 
The force the blow carried sent a shock through Ratione’s chest and thigh, surprising the seasoned soldier. Whatever abilities this man had, it meant that he might as well be Sar-khun in power armor swinging a hammer at him. The Furtumin’s next reaction was to knee his opponent in the groin.
 
“Command, burst!” His jump pack kicked in, and Ratione loosened everything but his knee. Keeping his leg in between his enemy’s legs, he flew up into the low ceiling, letting his upper half fall back as soon as the rocket on his back finished its quick burn. While the man was crushed against the thin stucco panels above, as well as a few ventilation shafts, Ratione only lightly tapped the ceiling. Both bodies came back down, the Novan landing on his feet and promptly stepping a few meters away, waiting to see what the Japanese man would do next.

[Clownpiece]

Bits of stucco, their weak bonds finally breaking, rained sparsely around the prone form of Somerled.

...Fuck

Was the first thought that meandered into his mind, his ears still ringing from that head-first excursion into the ceiling.

THUD

A single step from the armored behemoth rattled the ground, and Somerled took in a sharp breath. Deep within his core, a slight chill stirred, rapidly expanding out and spreading through his body, before exploding out in a frost wind. The weather spirit’s head shot up, vision shaking as he shivered, and he brought his left leg up, bracing it against the ground. Above him, the unknown man suddenly let out a shout, his eyes burning from the snow blindness, and his blade accelerated down to where he had last seen the spirit.

Artificial wind blasted through the mall, driving against Somerled’s back as he sprung forward off the ground. His shoulders crashed against both of the metal monster’s knees, and with a roar of pure fury, he wrapped his arms around the steel legs. Bracing his right leg hard against the ground, the spirit straightened up, forcing the massive humanoid skyward with all the ease of lifting a piece of styrofoam. The armor screeched and crumpled beneath the crushing grip, and with another bout of overzealous shouting, Somerled slammed his adversary into the ground.

CRACK

Tile and concrete exploded beneath the armor, spiderweb cracks spreading outwards for meters. Without wasting a single moment, the monster surged forward, driving his knee into the figure’s gut. His hands crawled over the smooth metal, clumsily scrabbling around for a purchase, which his fingers found in the form of the armor’s left pauldron. Sounds of shrieking steel split his ears, and within moments, his prey’s gauntlets closed around his wrists, straining against the monster’s might. Somerled pressed on regardless, scarcely hindered by the effort put forth by the humanoid.

The last of the joints gave with a mighty snap, the sudden give causing the spirit to rip his arms free and tip backwards treacherously, ruined armor plate firmly in his grasp. His opponent immediately seized that opportunity, surging up and forcing the lighter being off of him.

Somerled stumbled backwards, body low to the ground as he tried to keep himself upright, his eyes firmly planted on the beat-up armor. The mass of metal moved swiftly on its dented legs, scooping its sword back up from the ground and, without missing a beat, charged down the unbalanced storm spirit.

The monster’s breath caught in his throat, his body, still consumed by hypothermia, wasn’t responding fast enough. His left hand released the pauldron, and with a quick but powerful flick of his right wrist and forearm, he sent the warped metal flying forward like a lethal frisbee. A short and sharp yell escaped the behemoth, overshadowing its heavy footfalls for a brief moment, as the makeshift projectile carved a new furrow into the now barren shoulder it was once protecting. Such a glancing strike failed to slow it down, however, as much as he would have liked.

In a moment, his adversary was upon him, whipping his sword to the side violently and rapping Somerled’s head with the pommel. Stars danced through the spirit’s vision, and before he knew it, a gauntlet had closed around his throat, and his vision blurred once again as he was slammed into the ground. The humanoid wasted no time at all bringing his sword to bear, and driving it downwards, through the monster’s right eye and firmly into the ground.

The storm spirit laid deathly still, not even daring to breath as the knight planted his left foot firmly onto his chest and wrestling the sword out from his skull. Not a moment later, Somerled sprung to his feet, fire in his eye and a pure rage on his face. In the first display of emotion he had witnessed, the soldier reeled backwards.

Power swelled up inside the demon, his wrath burning hot within him.

“Just. Fucking. Burn,” each word dripped with absolute malice. Brilliant light coalesced between the two, solidifying into a new humanoid form, glowing as bright as the midday sun, and growing just as hot.

Moves used:
Whiteout.
Spirit of the Sun, -1 SP, 2/3 remaining.

[homin-Ratione]

“Qe meria?!” Was about the only thing Ratione could spit out when the monster he had taken for a man suddenly stood back up, after being choke-slammed into the ground and having a sword tip get plunged through their skull. Where the right eye should have been was a massive gaping slice through the whole head, all the way to the other side, splitting all the way to the top. Inside the soldier could see brain matter and bone, cleanly separated but now mixing together and sloughing out.
 
As soon it finished its words, the Furtumin could see some kind of energy building up. Something that looked like a raw-energy battery about to break down. He reacted in the quickest way he could, turning his back plate away from the source of the explosion, putting his left arm up to protect his visor.
 
The heat was unbearable, and Ratione could not help to let out a roar of pain as he waited for the whole thing to wash over. Once it was finished, steam radiated off of his plate, his muscles felt like tenderized meat, the cut on his left shoulder had been completely cauterized. He also found that he could barely breathe in his helmet, despite the homeostasis systems kicking into overdrive and pumping oxygen from the outside air as fast as possible.
 
Despite the pain all over, the Novan managed to turn his head back to where the man had been. Suddenly, his visor blacked out with the bottom of a shoe which attempted to ram itself into his visor. Instead the heel and toes impaled themselves on the two prongs sticking out. Ratione took the opportunity given to him, grabbing the ankle, grunting against the complaints from his nerves, and whipped the entire body past him. Throwing his whole body into the toss, he collapsed onto the floor as his opponent flew down the hallway and slammed into a cellphone kiosk.
 
Ratione pushed himself up, getting onto both feet while using his sword as a support. The Furtumin gave his helmet a quick command to burst forward, leaning forward so the jump pack would accelerate him at the monster. He brought his blade’s tip to bear, and thrusted forward the second he collided with his enemy. The sword buried itself deep into its chest, all the way up to the hilt, and Ratione quickly backed off and away from a swipe.
 
The veteran stood there, and noticed that he was not dealing with the same face as before. Something had replaced his original assailant, different hair and eyes and even demeanor. This one seemed to be more level-headed and calm, not frothing at the mouth or roaring in rage. It was at this time as well that Ratione felt his mind slow to a crawl, the sudden exertion making it feel as though the room was spinning.
 
Looking around, everything had been turned to ash and melted down. Black silhouettes marked where people had once stood only a few moments before. Most were tall, adults, but too many were too short.
 
The Novan forced his eyes back to focus on the monster, who had only managed to pull out some of the length of the blade. He seemed to have conveniently jammed it straight through the marble in the floor, as well as the kiosk frame itself. His assailant’s hands were bleeding from the palms as his arms bulged against the friction.
 
Ratione stepped over, putting the bottom of his boot against the guard, and pushed down with all of his strength. The blade slid all the way back in, slicing the monster’s hands and eliciting a loud curse in Japanese. The Furtumin stood back with labored breathing, every use of his muscles feeling like he was pushing them to their limits.

[Clownpiece]

Sonny gritted his teeth as the blade slid back into the concrete behind him, firmly nailing him to the ground once again. This was quite the pickle to be in. Luckily, it seemed like the knight was slowing down a bit, given how he had backed up for a moment. Soon though, he would regret taking that breather.

The sun spirit gripped down on the blade even harder, the cold metal cutting deeper into his palms. If he couldn’t beat this guy in straight combat, then he just needed to outlast him. Or ideally, hold off long enough for his other half to calm down again. He took in a deep breath. Step one, keep this guy distracted long enough to dislodge the blade.

Power stirred deep within the monster, heat and light building, radiating away intensely. In an instant, the armored figure had spun around again, obviously afraid of another heat blast. A grin crawled over Sonny’s face, such a thing wouldn’t come. His arms strained against the friction and force, shaking and shuddering as the blade slowly and jerkily came out. Metallic scraping rang through the air, his opponent whipping back around, realizing something was amiss.

The knight lunged forward, gait panicked and hasty, but it was already too late. With one final, massive jerk, the sword came free from both concrete and flesh. The pommel slammed into the armor’s gut with a massive clash, stopping it in its tracks. Hands still gripping the blade, Sonny drew back the sword.

“Eat shit!” the sun spirit yelled, driving the weapon forward with all his might.

CLANG

The crossguard bit into the armor’s breastplate, creating a gigantic divot, and sending his adversary flying down the mall’s halls like an oversized and oddly shaped baseball. The weapon, lodged into the armor’s new dent, was torn out of Sonny’s hands in the process. Without that sort, or really any weapon, the sun spirit felt oddly naked. Summoning up his hammer was a tempting process, but a good strike with that would ruin the armor irreparably. If they were to retrieve whatever power source was in it, the armor would need to be mostly intact.

No, he’d just have to use his fists for this. Resolve burned in his chest, and wordlessly, the monster shot forward. Dizziness struck at him with the first few steps, and each new step he took caused the world to spin even faster. The sun spirit’s mind raced, awkwardly. Why was this happening? Was there something in air? He was almost upon the prone form of his opponent when blackness swept through his mind.


“Fuck...” Somerled mumbled, his consciousness usurping the spot his other half’s had been just a few seconds prior. He wasn’t quite sure how long it had taken him to switch back in that wake, but judging by the fact he was still alive, it probably hadn’t been overly long. With as much energy as he could muster, the storm spirit pushed himself to his feet. The heat stroke had taken a toll on their shared body, it seemed. He was gonna have to yell at Sonny about not passing out later.

The monster allowed himself a few seconds to glance around and get his bearings. Walls were still shattered, silhouettes were still burned into the scenery, and that giant, humanoid lump of metal was...

CRACK

The sword’s crossguard slammed into Somerled’s face with a crunching sound that would have been significantly more delicious coming from someone else. Stars swarmed through the storm spirit’s vision.

Moves used:
Radiant Being
Alternate Form: Somerled

[homin-Ratione]

Ratione was very scared right now. Fortunately, a scared Novan was a dangerous Novan, and he would channel that fear into anger, that anger into his muscles.
 
The source of his fear was the fact that this thing had decided to give the laws of physics a boot up the ass. The Furtumin had sliced his spine and put the entire length of his gargantuan blade through its chest and gut. Even now he could see organs and meat and blood spilling all over the place, intestines hanging out like gory party decorations. The lungs were still expanding and contracting, heart still beating. Spurts of crimson liquid shot out from arteries here and there. The spinal chord was completely severed and visible. The blow from the crossguard had shattered the monster’s skull, bits of bone flying outward, brain matter exposed and swelling out of the hole, flaps of skin flitting about.
 
His own rib cage was sore, but not broken. Well, maybe a few ribs were. Either way, his armor was keeping everything intact.
 
“I’ll have to chop you into little bits then!” The Novan allowed himself a small taunt, before bringing the blade around, still inversely gripping, and slamming it into his enemy’s neck within a tenth of a second after the crossguard blow. He pushed the monster up and through the kiosk, bending the frame with ease and skewering the arms and legs on bits of frayed metal. There was a long, high-pitched screech as the aluminum was forced across the marble floor. When his assailant perked up again, Ratione’s steel plate was met with a series of quick and short but strong kicks, slaps and punches.
 
The Furtumin gritted his teeth, pressing on despite the blows which each delivered their own sting, craning his head back as the monster tried in vain to bit his face. It was growling and snarling at him like some kind of wild raptor, snapping its jaws at him. Slowly this turned into panicked scratching at his wrists as the blade sunk deeper and deeper into the throat.
 
First it was just blood, then muscle tissue being shoved out like raw steak being tenderized. Then came the blood vessels and arteries, spraying all over Ratione’s visor, then after that the bone of the windpipe which bent for a moment before cracking open and releasing shards of white everywhere. The rest of the neck gave in with ease, the blade slicing right between two vertebrae and the rest of the skin.

[Clownpiece]

Now you’ve gone and done it.

Somerled could already imagine the reaming out he would get from his other half as the blade slid the last part of the way through his neck. He already wasn’t looking very pretty, if the total lack of vision from his right eye and the copious amounts of blood spewing everywhere was anything to go by. This, however, was a whole new level of fucked. With another round of squelching sounds, which the monster felt uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of, the sword was pulled out from his throat again, leaving only a few last tendrils of flesh holding everything together.

Of course, just to freak out the knight, he really wanted to say something along the lines of ‘last I checked I’m not a dullahan.’ Unfortunately, his horribly severed windpipe prevented that from happening. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe.
Fortunately, he could at least do one thing to make this motherfucker piss himself. He ripped his legs forward, tearing them from the bent aluminum his adversary had skewered them on. Slowly, he rose to his full height, head balancing precariously atop his neck. Though he was still a great deal shorter than the towering armor, him just standing up like that made it stumble backwards.

Granted it took all of a second for the knight to get its wits back about it, but it was a good attempt. The metallic behemoth surged forward, sword poised and ready to strike.

KRA-KOOM

Thunder blasted down the mall, echoing to the ends and back, slowly fading away. The monster’s foe was slammed into the wall behind it, breastplate almost entirely caved in. Somerled dropped his right arm back to his side, mangled hand and all. His left was now raised up to his head, keeping that firmly in place atop his neck. He still needed to see, after all.

The metallic form of his adversary shuddered, scraping against concrete as it slowly moved, as if trying to get its bearings again. As much as the storm spirit wanted to rush forward and peel that carapace open, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Full Dullahan.

Somerled braced himself, turning back around to the kiosk he had just been impaled on. His one good eye scanned the wreckage, picking out a small beam jutting out of some of the wiring. He reached out, right hand closing around it with barely enough force. Apparently that strike had done quite a number on his bones. With a harsh shriek, the metal bar came loose. Fingers closed, grasping his hair as tight as they could. He raised the metal bar up, well above his head. Silently, he counted down from three, arms trembling.

Zero.

With three quick, if hasty motions, he tore his head entirely off, severing the last few fleshy strands, drove the metal bar approximately halfway down his neck, and then promptly impaled his head on it. The monster’s face contorted into a diabolic grin. He may not have any neck movement for now, but fuck he was good.

Somerled turned back towards his opponent, slowly, unsteadily. On wobbly legs, his weight uneven, he strode towards the toppled armor. The knight offered little in the way of resistance as the storm spirit fell onto it, fingers digging into the cracks and crevices between the arm pieces. Muscles straining, he pulled the pieces on both arms loose, metal creaking with every inch it gave. The enemy grabbed at the monster, getting a second wind with that weight lifted.

Steel gauntlets dug into Somerled’s face, probing for a grasp anywhere. He planted his right hand against the armor’s breastplate, left hand closing around his foe’s now-revealed right bicep. The metal of the breastplate squealed, caving further inwards with the pressure of the monster’s grasp. Flesh and meat slowly and steadily gave away before, with a delicious ripping sound, the knight’s arm came off completely. A primal, inhuman scream escaped the confines of the armor.

Tossing the severed appendage aside, Somerled’s fingers dug into more openings with renewed vigor. The last gauntlet continued to tear at the monster’s face, gouging deeper into the skin as the breastplate began to give with its own shriek. As the steel plate gave away more, curving outwards inch by inch, the hand finally found a firm grasp in the form of the spirit’s lower jaw, and slowly but surely, it began to slide his head back up the aluminum strut.

Teeth ground against the steel fingers, desperately trying to bite through as Somerled continued prying the armor open, hoping to get at the fleshy body underneath. One hand raised up in a panic, the other continuing to peel at the armor. If he could just get one good strike at that chest, it would all be over. His power surged forward, electricity pulsing up his arm.

Just one good strike.

Moves Used: 
Lightning Strike