WWOmni Smackdown VS Raw: Ratione vs Tearen IC Mock Fight

[homin-Ratione]

[INTRO POST]

 
Twenty foot LED screens bordered a darkened gateway, bright lights positioned at the edges to facilitate in silhouetting anything behind the threshold.
 
Outside, a ramp, then a concrete floor with a single box in the center. A raised platform with ropes strung across each side, hooked to posts at each corner.
 
Everywhere else, the roar of the crowd. Tiered seats encircling the arena, only cut through by the gateway. Hundreds of tickets sold, every, spot filled. Above them, in a mesh of catwalks, wires, and electrical boxes, lamps and spotlights cycled through white, purple, and yellow. The cheering and bellowing of the mob sang throughout the entire building, vibrating the walls, echoing out through every interior hallway and room.
 
There was a crackling sound that somehow overpowered the cacophony, followed by a man’s voice project through multiple speakers set up strategically throughout the space.
 
“Laaaadiiiies and gentlemaaaan…”
 
The roar ceased to rumbling chatter, groups of fans with ear-to-ear grins whispering and pointing at the screens that suddenly went black, the lighting that suddenly dimmed.
 
“Welcoooome… tooo…
WWOMNI SMACKDOWN VS RAW!!”
 
Everything started up again. The crowd, the lights, the screens now displaying images of a silhouette figure. It was kind of bipedal, humanoid mass, but with raised heels and smooth pieces of something all over its body. A kilt hung down from its waist, next to a massive sheathed blade.
 
“Frooooom teeeaaaam Smackdooowwwwnn…
HOO-uh-HOMIN RA-Ray? Rat?- RATIONE! THE NOVAN FUR-FUER-FUR-TUM-IN-did I say that right? Whatever-TRAINED AND SEASONED VETERAN OF THE FIFTY-YEARS WAR AND PARTICIPANT IN THE LAST STAND OF MULCIBUS!- wait what even is that?”
 
For about a second or two, the entire crowd went silent. All that could be hear were a few murmurs, a kid crying, everyone scratching their heads and raising eyebrows. Eventually, the quiet was broken by a single bearded, portly man with two beer cans strapped to the side of his baseball cap and hoses feeding to his mouth stood on top of the fence at the front row.
 
“WOO ALIENS!”
 
Instantly the roar resumed, chanting the phrase in a rhythmic holler.
 
“WOO ALIENS! WOO ALIENS! WOO ALIENS!”
 
At the door way, the silhouette from the screens melted into the light. A hulking, massive figure with solid steel armor covering every inch of their body. A helm with two prongs at the front and a glass visor scanned the crowd. Half of them applauded, half of them booed. In a steady pace, he made his to the ring.
 
The supports creaked and almost buckled under his weight as Ratione stepped up a ladder, holding up the top rope and threading himself through, before taking a position one corner.

[Tearen Wover]

[INTRO POST]

The zealous, frothing ecstasy of the gathered crowds was a balm upon the senses of the one known as Tearen Wover. Even as he lingered within the the wings of this padded mockery of an arena, he could feel their zeal for violence fueling ever greater and greater adrenaline. It was a chorus of dis inhibition and bloodlust that wound its way through the psychic medium. Succulent and heady, Tearen needed to steel himself against its intoxicating lure, lest he chose partake in the mindless revelry as well.

The announcer continued his scripted hootings.

"Aaand from team WWOmni. He's lean, he's mean, and he-ssaauugggGGHH!!"

The hapless human never got a chance to finish his churlish shouting, as Tearen advanced from the enclosure prematurely. The MC had been lifted high into the air and hung there screaming with fear as Enigma, Tearen's favored halberd, was called into existence with an outstretched hand. Upon solidifying from the shimmering, arcane light, the announcer was promptly called down from his mid-air prison with a mental tug. A wet gurgle was the next sound to come blasting over the loudspeakers as the MC's throat was harshly introduced to the cold metal of Enigma's spearhead.

Unhindered by the fleshy load, Tearen continued towards this...padded center dias, holding Enigma in one hand while slowly floating through the air into the ring. The dead corpse that dangled from the spearhead was discarded with little ceremony, being deposited on the mat with a swift swing. A gout of red blood painted a grisly fresco upon the pristine white mat, and it was at this point that the previously dumb-struck crowd finally panicked. The filthy, half-drunken mass of people stumbled and clawed past each other to flee what they had hoped would be a nice, if not raucous, evening of adrenaline filled entertainment. Had they not come to see a demonstration of violence and pain? Tearen would give them nothing less than a stunning show.

Rather than fireworks and laser lights to set the stage, the arena's floodlights blasted to their full luminescence in the vain hope that it would help the scrambling civilians find their way to safety. Rather than punchy, electronic music, it was a fusillade of screams that heralded the Shadow. The blinding light from overhead served only to throw his darkened silhouette into sharper relief.

Tearen's head, enshrouded by a low hanging burlap hood turned to regard his opponent, who stood ready to defend himself. Good. Green eyes gleamed out from beneath the hood, and his matted robes swished softly as he turned into his own proper stance. Holding the halberd with its head behind him and the spiked pommel upwards at an angle, Tearen sent a single invitation drifting across the canvas of Homin-Ratione's mind.

En garde.

[homin-Ratione]

As the frighteningly telekinetic man took their place, Ratione unsheathed his weapon. A slick, quiet sound as the solid steel blade slid against the soft leather on the inside of the scabbard. Gripping the base of the crossguard tightly with his right hand, left loose on the pommel, he rested the weight of the sword on his right shoulder which pulled back and away from Tearen. Torso facing at an angle and toes pointed at his target, the Novan’s helm dipped as he watched the other prime’s shoulders.
 
Bring it, saecu.
 
Tearen accepted, bringing his empty hand and rearmost foot around. Momentum took over and the head of the halberd flew in a wide arc out to the right as the legendary prime spun about on the ball of his foot, leveraging the spiked pommel to best assist the motion.
 
Ratione stepped in reverse on the first pass of the polearm, waiting for the second his enemy’s back was to him. Stepping forward as he rotated his shoulders and extending his arms, the sword whipped out with ferocious energy. Flexing against the weight the old man kept it as tight to his body as possible, the tip of the blade scrapping against the halberd coming back around and parrying it out of the way. As both weapons swung to the side, Ratione’s right hand let go and brought his next foot forward to close the distance between him and Tearen, open palm reaching for his face as it came out of the twirl.
 
The second the opponent saw this, they whipped their hips out and arched their back to dodge, balancing on only ten toes. While the soldier’s hand missed, his elbow and body did not. With the halberd and sword out to the side, the mass of power armor slammed into the smaller human body. Instantly Ratione planted his feet behind him, letting go of his weapon completely. Twenty pounds of condensed steel flew off into the stands to sink itself deep into the thin stainless steel of the bleachers. The Furtumin wrapped both arms around Tearen’s thighs before putting all the suit’s and his own strength into lifting the prime above his head.

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen smiled inwardly his the oh-so-optimistic opponent hefted his admittedly small bulk off the ground. Either this man did not know who he was dealing with, or, he was luring Tearen into a false sense of superiority. Still, there was no point in giving Homin-Ratione an easy fight. As the Novan hurled Tearen back to the mat, the Shadow selectively transferred a portion of his mass to a different time-stream, causing what remained of his now vaporous body to sink through the blood-spattered ring in a splash of wafting black steam.

A quiet moment passed as Ratione looked around at the ground beneath his feet, attempting to anticipate the ex-enigma's next move. A quiet chinking sound alerted the Novan to a presence behind him, and instinctively wheeled out of the way of a predicted blow. When he came to face his perceived opponent, however, it was simply his trusted blade that hung patiently in the air before him. The hilt nudged itself towards Ratione, as if asking to be taken. A dark cloud began oozing out from under the ring a few feet away.

Tearen re-materialized, halberd in hand, and offered a curt bow. Eyes cast to the ground he reached out with his telepathy to the armored Prime.

In the interest of making things fair-

Wait...

In a fleeting moment of concern, Tearen tilted the head of Enigma away from him, just in time to clumsily deflect a heavy blow from the Novan. Ratione had dashed forward in the split second Tearen had been arrogant to take his eyes off of his opponent, and the Shadow could feel the man's silent glee as he capitalized on Tearen's lack of balance. Though Tearen had slapped the heavy sword downwards, the hasty defense had failed to resolve the bind, and a quick twist of Ratione's wrist allowed the Novan to leave a quick slice on Tearen's right upper leg. Ratione was, however, mildly surprised when his blade pulled free from the wound with hardly a glimmer of black blood on it. Heavy though his sword was, the adroit parry did not have the power to seriously breach the ex-enigma's glass-like skin.

Well. If you insist.

A quick shove from the shaft of Tearen's halberd put some welcome distance between the two fighters once again. No more hesitations. Tearen took the initiative on an attack for the first time in a fight, leading with a jab from the spear on the bottom of Enigma's length. Ratione easily caught the incoming blade in a bind, but was unprepared as Tearen suddenly took a time-accelerated step forward and hooked the Novan's heel with the underside of the halberd's head. Moving as a blur, the Shadow swiftly yanked Ratione's foot out from under him.

[homin-Ratione]

“Command, burst!” Ratione’s jump-pack barked and suddenly his body went limp as the raw-energy pushed him up and away from Tearen the second his leg came out. Momentum allowed the Novan to right himself mid-air, just in time for the halberd blade to fly up without its owner and bite itself right into the tips of his helm’s prongs. The spike punctured his visor halfway through the thick glass, kinetic energy whipping his head and upper body backwards.

The power armor smashed into the bleachers, punching straight through the stainless steel and seats and into the shadowed concrete below. The halberd soared back out of the hole, arcing through the air in a smooth path and back to its owner’s grip as they nonchalantly strode over the crash site.
 
Shrapnel and seats abruptly flew forward from where Ratione bulled straight through and at Tearen, who swung the shaft around in a circle to deflect in-coming debris. Ratione brought up his blade in a straight thrust, hilt pulled back behind his hips. The second he was one step away from his opponent, he twisted his hips and threw his arms only as far forward so that his grip was kept right up next to his own body.
 
Tearen, after a cushion sailed an inch past his face, shifted his own core to be perpendicular to Ratione. The long blade barely scraped his stomach, but in the next moment Ratione pushed it further in with his right hand on the edge and pulled back with his legs.

[Tearen Wover]

There was an audible hiss from the Shadow as Ratione pulled the heavy sword away from the flank of his opponent. A spray of glittering, ferrous blood sprayed onto the mat as well as the novan, mixing and blending with the red that already had soaked in. Tearen staggered backwards, dropping Enigma and clutching his side, leering at the Novan. It was to the armored warrior's benefit that he still wore his visored helm; without mutual eye contact Tearen could not unleash the full terror of his mind's power on the uppity Prime.

Still, there were other ways to show this fool who he was dealing with.

Homin-Ratione was far from being the sort of lazy combatant to let his opponent retreat uncontested. With firm strides, the Novan closed the distance between himself and the ex-enigma, blade poised for a killing blow. Just as he was about to bring the sword down on Tearen, however, space itself seemed to suck and bubble outward from the Shadow, causing Ratione's attack to glance harmlessly off of what felt like a perfectly smooth sphere of rubber. In a burst of motion, Tearen shot up out of the ring and hung impossibly in the air above the arena floor.

Fine then, no more games. Blood for blood.

At the mental utterance of that final word, five tetrahedral black-crystal objects winked into existence around Tearen in a vertical ring. What remained of Ratione's shattered HUD alerted him that, somehow, the space within these strange objects was...inverting? The bright light that began to blossom from each facet of Tearen's Aspects was all the warning the Novan needed to begin dashing for cover. As he vaulted over the ropes of the arena, the first blasts of searing light began to scream past his head, each one a keening threat of destruction.

Tearen watched the Novan flee from his vantage high in the air. The Shadow's opponent was making for the wreckage of the bleachers, a path of scorch marks tracing his path. With a small gesture of his hand, Tearen bade the Aspects to fly forth from their place at his side. Gleefully they cruised after their quarry, sending lances of pure white light within inches of the Novan's acrobatic frame every second. Right before he was able to dive behind the aluminum heap, Tearen's eyes flashed brightly once again, this time causing a gravity well to open beneath Ratione's feet.

The Novan's eyes flared inside of his helmet as he felt his bulk become stuck to the hard black tile underfoot, and commanded his armor to activate its jump-pack. Alas, even the brute force of the explosive verniers was not enough to free him from the gravitational surge. It was all he could do to stare over his shoulder as each of the Aspects energized. A moment later he was enveloped by a furious fusillade of energy beams...

Spending 4 SP for this turn and Ratione's next turn on Assist: Aspects of Divinity

[homin-Ratione]

Ratione had never seen anything like the spectacular light show presented before him in his entire two-hundred-and-fifty years, and he had seen a lot. However, it did not take any kind of experience with what he was witnessing to figure out how utterly bad it was.

As the hovering black crystals began winding up some sort of weapon, Ratione knew he was a trapped animal. His first attempt at escaping the sudden force keeping him down, and he commanded his on-board computer to bring up all information about the atmosphere around him. At the edges of spider-webbing crack in his visor, the Furtumin could barely make out an updated terminal velocity estimate that had been calculated after his failed jump. Just over twice Nova’s own. He looked back to see that the floating platforms just about ready to activate something…
 
Ratione gave one final push on his calves and extended both his arms straight downward, “Command! Emergency eje-!” A blinding white light and searing heat took over all of the Novan’s senses. Yet as quickly as the pain came, it subsided just as fast, eliciting a high-pitched scream from the seasoned veteran. All that he could make out were shapes flying past, then slamming into something cold and solid, an intense glow in the corner of his vision. He could feel his limbs were free from the suit, everything except his head and his shoulders no longer had the pressure from the armor. The smell of singed skin wafted into his nostrils, and the old man silently gagged.
 
It took a few moments, but the fuzziness in his eyes cleared. Before Ratione lay a black-scorched circle, his suit blackened and some parts melted down partially as well as completely. His boots had barely made it outside the radius, just a few centimeters away from the charred floor. Just as he had hypothesized, gravity affected mass, so less mass meant less weight, less weight for his jump-pack to displace.
 
Despite the small victory, Ratione dared not move. The Furtumin peered through partially closed lids, out of the corner of his right eye as he lay on his side. He could make out the thing maintaining its position in the air, moving slowly forward and with orbiting weapons platforms at the ready.
 
“C-command….” The Novan took in a hoarse breath, “Burst…” The limp body of the soldier rocketed across the ground, sliding underneath the bleachers. Black with white lines replaced the sight of Tearen’s ominous figure, and Ratione could feel a small sense of relief and relative safety wash over him.

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen leered angrily at the pathetic form of Ratione as he skidded under the bleachers. A loud squealing accompanied by a shower of dancing sparks traced a glittering path into the shattered refuge of twisted aluminum. It was ridiculous that such a poorly equipped Prime should have the gall to challenge one such as he. The man named Homin-Ratione was skilled with a blade, no doubt, but that and that alone was no match for the power the Shadow wielded. Perhaps this battle would be of sufficient worth in dissuading future distractions such as these.

With an audible grunt, Tearen forced himself into a higher frame of relativity, causing the world around him to appear tinted blue. In this heightened state of being, all actions had an exponentially more powerful impact on those constrained to the normal flow of time. With a lifting gesture, the ex-enigma lifted the quaking wreckage of the stands directly upwards before hurling it off to the left with an effortless swipe. Homin-Ratione and Tearen looked into one another's eyes for the first time, and in that moment, the full terror of what Tearen was came crawling into the Novan's head.

Ratione's mind was strong, but in the haze of lower relativity, his synapses just couldn't fire fast enough to keep up with Tearen's subtle mental puppetry. With dawning horror, Homine tried to resist the growing compulsion to march towards the central ring of the now-burning arena, but those burning, hateful, viridian eyes seemed to be in every direction he wrenched his gaze. All was silent, save for the growing rumble of flame, as Ratione stalked back to the padded ring against his will. Tearen watched silently as the Novan climbed under the ropes and walked towards him.

Just give up.

The Furturmin spat a wad of blood on the mat and raised his wrapped fists.

"No."

A telepathic growl echoed across the psychic medium as Tearen closed the distance between them, his fists readied for an advancing attack. The Shadow led with a sharp blow from his right elbow, but Ratione caught it with his right hand and pushed it away. Tearen followed with an adroit kick, and by yet another elbow, but the Novan matched him flawlessly. It wasn't until Ratione lashed out with his own left hook that the Shadow found an opening. Tearen took a quick step forward and stomped on the Novan's left foot while catching the hook. A visual distortion of space began to gather around Tearen's left palm, and the Novan jerked backwards to block. Anticipating the defense, Tearen slammed his palm into Ratione's center of mass and sent the Furturmin flying with a telekinetic shove.

Unfinished, the Shadow spontaneously detonated a knot of spacetime along the Novan's trajectory, blasting him in the opposite direction. A quick acceleration of his temporal aspect sent him flying clear to the other end of the arena...

2 SP Used

Relativity Shift 1 Turn

Exponential Sequence Contraction
Kiss of Reproach > Warp Burst > Temporal Jaunt

[homin-Ratione]

His helm, pack, and jumpsuit pads did what they could to protect his body from the initial impact. Ratione received no cuts or impalement, but plenty of bruises, shock, and a very sudden, sharp shot of pain going through his skull and neck.
 
Once again, his sensory input was shrouded in discomfort and general lack of ability to process anything around him. The most the Furtumin could tell was he was sprawled across a bunch of seats, arms and legs fumbling to get a grip, fingers pushing themselves to their limits to grab a hold of something.
 
The Novan redirected his efforts to removing his helm, which was suffocating him at this point. Shakily, he brought his hands up to slide it off his shaved head, dropping the heavy chunk of now warped steel and watching as he bounced down one step before resting still. Next, his digits fumbled with the two buckles holding his dead pack in place. This went on for about a minute before, eventually, Ratione’s body slid from the pack and his face buried itself in a pile of abandoned popcorn.
 
The salt and butter stung his already burning nostrils, eyelids clamping shut.
 
Tearen stood, silent, still at the center arena. His head fixated on the prone form of his opponent. This stillness lasted for a short while before eventually the legendary prime relaxed.
 
“You put up a good fight, swordsmen. Unfortunately, that’s all yo-“
 
CLANG
 
Tearen ceased his speech. Ratione’s right arm had managed to erect itself in a ninety-degree bend, slapping his palm against the aluminum seats which had elicited the sound and subsequent shuddering vibrations throughout the whole platform.
 
CLANG
 
Next came the left arm, fingers spread out. The old man’s muscles bulged and he let out a long, low groan as ever so slowly his torso was elevated. This was followed by both knees being tucked in one at a time. In this bent over position, Ratione hacked and wheezed, either coughing up or vomiting a foul-smelling mixture of blood and bile.
 
After five solid minutes of continuing to force his body to move, the Furtumin was able to get on two feet. Then, said two feet shuffled stifle first down the aisle he had landed in, then to the stairs, putting his weight against each seat back as he made a steady, paced way down to the concrete, one step at a time.
 
The faceless, dark glass skin of Tearen’s head rotated in sync with the Novan as they shuffled over to the burnt, black spot on the ground where he had abandoned his armor. Laying before him, just outside of the blast radius, was his sword. The heavy, condensed steel encasing had fallen apart, magnetic locks releasing as soon as his helm’s onboard computer sent the emergency eject signal.
 
Inside, a Novan greatsword lay. Exposed to the open air for the first time in over a century. Lighter, proportionally longer blade, but keeping the overall length of its previous form.

[Tearen Wover]

A fiery moment passed between the two fighters, flames born from the Aspects' nuclear blasts flickering dimly off of Nealaphh's polished carapace. With a slow, deliberate movement, the Shadow peeled back the hood from his face, tucking the rumbled sack cloth behind his head. Green, luminescent eyes burned brightly upon the smooth facade, and what was perhaps a flicker of admiration made itself known in the ex-enigma's gaze. Whatever manner of creature this Homin-Ratione was, Tearen could certainly appreciate his tenacity. Few others in the Omniverse had the gall to keep fighting after they were so clearly beaten, both Primes and Secondaries alike. It hearkened of Okor Paleblood's inexorable advance towards the halls of legend. It was evocative of Jade Harley's determined pursuit of a world without strife, even in the face of stark impossibility.

It even reminded Tearen of himself, staring into the burning eyes of the Arch Dragon, Volvagia.

In that moment, flame and light was replaced by damp and darkness as the arena's automated fire-control system activated, dousing the scene with a haze of silvery water droplets. The floodlights overhead flickered dimly in the wake of the destruction, and nothing but white noise flooded the scene. There came a metallic whining that grew louder until the halberd Enigma came rushing to Tearen's outstretched hand. Sprinkled water pattered against the flat of the halberd's head as Tearen stalked towards Ratione in the strobing darkness. Gracefully cradling the lower haft of the halberd in his left hand, the Shadow held the tip of Enigma forward in the gulf between himself and the Novan, pausing. Ratione hesitated for an instant before slowly rapping the side of his own greatsword against the halberd.

Previous disgraces forgotten, the two Primes immediately set upon each other once more, in a flurrying tangle of blows and parries that sent each of them shuffling to and fro. Thick puddles sloshed around their deft footwork as they circled and checked one another, eyes fiercely locked. The increased reach of the Novan Greatsword made up for the disadvantage in reach that had previously hampered Ratione; now, for each distancing thrust from Enigma, the Furturmin was able to close the renewed gap with a short, charging thrust. It was an easy enough attack to defend against, but it kept him squarely in Tearen's threat zone. As the Novan thrusted again, however, Tearen anticipated the closing attack and caught Ratione's edge in the crook of his halberd, locking it high above their heads. Before the Shadow was able to bring the spear-tipped pommel of Enigma up to Ratione's throat, the Novan stepped close, leaning on his greatsword and using his freed right hand to pound Tearen in his left flank.

A mental screamed ripped through the psychic medium as Tearen clutched at the aggravated wound in his side, but rather than be momentarily stunned, the Shadow slammed Ratione to the floor with a savage headbutt...

[homin-Ratione]

“Baideci sua!” Ratione cussed in his own tongue, eyes squinting and brow furrowing. Shifting his right hand the secondary grip, left on the pommel, he forced the tip of the greatsword in a tight conical arc repeatedly while stepping backwards. Tearen’s halberd was pulled along with the blade, spike scraping against the floor as he moved with the motion, keeping the shaft of his own weapon against the Novan’s. The two moved in sync for the smallest moment, mirroring each other’s steps and swings, before both stepped off to put in some distance.

There was no hesitation as they moved in again. Ratione first swung up his blade before smoothly redirecting the inertia downward, taking a long step forward. Tearen hooked his front-most leg around his opponents, snatching the greatsword’s tip with his spike to pull it down and further forward, out to his own side. The spiked pommel followed through, forcing the Furtumin to release his right hand grab for the halberd’s shaft.
 
The legendary prime’s back leg swung forward in a chest-level kick, smacking into Ratione’s padding. Despite the immediate protection, the old man could still feel the energy going into his ribs. Almost at the same time, the soldier’s own leg flew forward, aided by his large stride, driving a shin-guard into Tearen’s groin. While this elicited a sharp cry, it still lacked the impact Ratione had planned for.
 
Both opponents now chest-to-chest, locked together, their weapons clattered on the ground to resort to significantly more physical means of killing each other. The Novan’s superior leg strength won out in the first move, right arm hooking between Nealaph’s thighs, the other around his glassy buttocks. Seasoned and toned thigh muscles heaved Ratione’s enemy up into the air, then back down into the concrete. The thing gave a sharp cough, followed by a loud bark as its opponent’s knee was driven into again its crotch, right leg pinned.
 
The Furtumin wasted no time in getting at least one fist to connected with Tearen’s jaw, head whipping to the side right before both its arms came up to redirect his next punch. Ratione fell into his own weight, the legendary prime wrapping its arms completely around him and turning both their bodies over.

The Furtumin wasted no time in getting at least one fist to connected with Tearen’s jaw, head whipping to the side right before both its arms came up to redirect his next punch. Ratione fell into his own weight, the legendary prime wrapping his arms completely around him and turning both their bodies over.

 

Now crouched over the bruised, battered, beaten, and overheated ancient soldier, Tearen summoned his halberd over. The polearm flew easily into his open fingers, all ten gripping the shaft as it was raised above the Novan’s skull.

 
The veteran’s timing was impeccable as blade was slapped the blade to side just when the spike scraped the bridge of his nose, burying deep into the grey floor, cracks spider-webbing out. To keep the weapon pinned, Ratione grabbed the shaft with his right hand, shoving his left elbow into Tearen’s arms to keep them to the side. The old man bent his knees, getting his feet underneath him, hefting all of his opponent’s mass into a counter-roll.