[IC] Melee! Kentucky Tom vs Steer Cottonworth

[Metal Tortoise]

Steer:

{Farmland Hands.}

Sometimes the most innocent or utilitarian things could be turned into dens of weird and often time insane practices. Case in point here; a rather successful farm turned into the madhouse now. The previous owner had long since moved on, but in a strangely well thought out plan, decided to lease the former farmlands to whoever could afford it. While this usually resulted in actual good honest working people who needed the land for what they did, the most prevalent was not something you’d expect. By the loud crys and the constant grunting and yelps and other sounds of pain and struggling, one need only to zoom in directly to a fenced square to see where the crowd gathered and all the commotion that followed with it. A letal metal bash took place as a body was hurled against a combo of metal meshing and shack-sheets and a cry of enjoyment was given.

It was for all intents and purposes a brawling square. Twenty five feet by thirty five feet, ‘ringed’ in by various assortments of ‘safe’ metal pieces, the grassy ground suiting as a ‘fighters’ mat while one or two tall but thin trees served as both posts or makeshift tactical weapons. It wasn’t the most legal thing, the coppers around frowned on it, but it was far in enough on the former farm-lands to not attract attention. Despite the dried blood stains all over the grass, very few bad injuries had occurred here, and someone who knew the simplest but most useful first-aid and ‘patch-up’ skills always seemed to be around. Betting wasn’t encouraged and frowned upon and despite the violent nature of the ‘Farm-House Rumble square’ as it was called, it was all in good sport, fun even, for participants and those that were there to just watch!

Steer Cottonworth at first, was one of the watchers. He had come here as a little pit stop on a way to a job, heard good things and was surprised at the atmosphere…not to mentioned home cooked but also well-made booze and food. He’d watch three fights, always lifted what he was eating/drinking in approval and kept a warm smile about himself…but he had to admit, after his third beer, his whole body was somewhat wanting in the way only the Rumble-Square could provide. Messily and loudly, though no one heard it, Steer finished his third beer, just as the last fight ended and when one end of the Rumble-Square opened, he slid off his sandals, socks, and blue sweater and stepped right through it. Toes wiggled in the grass slightly, Steer rolled his head a little to pop sections of his neck.

“Steer, Steer Cottonworth, sir, From Norther East America-Ireland.”

Said to the man on a high chair on the right side of the square. A makeshift announcer and referee if you will.

“Weeeellll our next round will include one mister Steer Cottonworth, a passer-buyer from out of town but a hunkering for the food and fighting! Any takers? Y’all know the rules by now; melee and if you got SOME of them ‘powers’ use them lightly or stuff!”

Steer rolled his shoulders and nodded. Hands clenched into and out of fists and he seemed to sway in a whimsical loose fashion. Go time!

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

"I'll give it a go now. Les' see whatchya got son."

A man in a white suit stepped into the ring and stopped six feet from Steer, feet spread a shoulder's length apart, rolling up his sleeves one by one. A cigarette dangled at the corner of his mouth, trailing a sliver of curling smoke. He seemed to be of unremarkable physique, average in just about every which way. His mannerisms, however, were audacious in the extreme. His designer shades even stayed right on his face, a typically poor decision in a fist fight. He threw out his right arm, aiming a slim index finger at Steer.

"Tell ya what. I won't move from this here spot. Make me take one step, and I'll letchya have a cigarette. Ya smoke, don't ya boy?"

[Metal Tortoise]

Steer:

{Fancy Pickings.}

He wasn’t falling for it one bit. Mind you he didn’t know the ins and outs of the man before him, but the fancy outlook, voice, and somewhat meek posturing did nothing for Steer. Heck, he wasn’t too far off the mark, being an inch or so shorter than the man before him and chubbier. He listened, brow quirked, blue eyes shutting, head tilting down. That was a nifty offer, truth be told but…

“You’re almost right, pretty close, I prefer my fatty foods and beer though. Whoever wins buy next round, mister?”

Maybe, maybe not. A few more motions were taken by Steer, loosening up a bit for the hey of it. Not always needed, but something he did none the less. He stopped, eyed Kentucky again and nodded, straightening up.

“I’ll do my best in either regards, you got a name stranger?”

Steer spoke, but while he spoke he zoomed in on Kentucky. Obvious theories of light ploys to lure him in were prevalent in Steers mind, but simplicity was usually the finest way to start. If he got close enough, make no mistake, he wasn’t expecting to, Kentucky seemed to have a bit of a reach on him, or so he assumed given the slight taller stature but if he was? If his strangely nonchalant even paced footwork, which didn’t show any hint of real organization or ‘stance’, was left without harassment Steer would set his right foot into the ground when he took a step, when he was close enough, and while he was lifting his left foot he’d lash it out. The bottom was intended to roughly, quickly, smash right into the area connecting Kentuckies front foot to his ankle. A Relatively safe ploy, light deception tried, probably failed, and safe if he missed. Might be long, might be quick night, but Steer was intent on getting his fun from it, fingers wiggling slightly in anticipation.

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

"Alright, fair nuff. And the name's Tom. Kentucky Tom. Sucknutus Switcheroonio!"

As Steer got within striking distance, the magic words spat out of Tom's mouth with such speed that they could scarcely be deciphered. From his finger, still pointing at Steer, shot a small orb of light at a speed of around forty miles per hour, headed right for the gut. Considering the distance between Steer and Tom's finger, it'd be a tough one to handle. If it struck, Steer would find himself abruptly kicking in the wrong direction, his back to Tom. Even if he didn't need a moment to orient himself and figure out what had just happened, immediately after the turnaround he'd be liable to feel Tom's right boot colliding with the back of his right knee. The blow might wind up folding the leg and cause Steer to fall. Tom would have preferred a hold or a punch, but a hold would almost certainly require taking a step, and he didn't exactly consider a rabbit punch reliable. A kidney shot might've been good if he were in comfortable uppercut range, but he wasn't. Even then, another word, this one more emphatic and drawn out, came from Tom's direction.

"Blindorial..."

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{It’s maaaagggggiiiiiiiiic.}

With first blows, in Steers mind, it wasn’t so much as doing damage, more seeing what your opponent could do and at what level. Steer kept in mind the odd stance Kentucky was taking, and odd it was. He didn’t move, it was almost casual, but the real ‘kicker’ seemed to be the words he spoke. Steer wasn’t expert number one on magical forces, he had his own ‘arsenal’mind you, but light or high, physically spoken spells were a tad bit tricky. They usually sounded like utter nonsense and what was flung from them, be it via hand or something else usually was just that. This was the case here sadly, though despite the nonsense done, spells had their own nifty affects which when it came down to it, the best option to them was more physical avoidance then fancy tricks.

“Aw heck…”

Sadly that wasn’t on the Menu and Kentuckies intent was successful. The only solid defense melee wise Steer could think of was a tenseness of his body, from his ankles up to the spot right below the back of his neck given he could clearly see his back was to Kentucky. Luckily this worked in tandem with his missed kick, as said left kick was meant more of a cautionary starting move usually easily adjusted to correct a miss or mistake to make tripping, falling, and outright good damage near impossible. Just as Kentucky raised his foot, his right leg lifted his heel slightly, said heel turning slightly to outward towards Steers right, another small defensive action though it looked odd probably from Kentuckies point of view.

“Urk!”

And he was kicked at the knee. Slight preparation absorbed the damge though, IE, the tenseness in his body and the heel of his right foot raising. It wasn’t perfect, the right leg unwillingly took a ‘step’ forward from the kick but given semi-preparedness Steer had, it was just that; a disorganized step forward from its original placing, Steers right arm and hand curling inward over his waist perhaps to keep his torso upright. However, that was not all. As fast as the foot was forced into its awkward ‘pace’ forward, it turned, having done so in a likewise but organized fashion, the heel pointing completely to Steers right, planted not to firmly but firm enough to stay in the ground, aiding the extended posture of his more extended left leg. A counter would use all these elements in tandem as soon as his right turned foot hit the ground.

The turn of his right was for a reason of course; Steer allowed a sort of natural pull of body to occur, aided by all the other prepared tenseness in his body to turn his left side backwards in a half circle. If one could paint it completely, it was a quick pivot to face Kentucky again, a slight leg sweep added with his extended left leg of low-medium strength his the side of his right foot. Along with this, since Kentucky had been so kind to do a little not-melee ability, Steer somewhat did the same wise. In truth the ‘supporting’ right arm to keep his torso up was a ‘hidding’ attempt for as soon as Steer turned, not only did the left foot/leg swipe occur, one could clearly see Steers right hand was covered in an airy gray sort of aura. This was his Chi capability, not in its best state and quickly made, it wasn’t the most effective, but thrusting his right hand forward, in a clenched claw like fashion no less (as he faced Kentucky again, if all went as planned) the wavy aura would fade from Steers hand and fly forward seeking to imbed itself into the lower inner section of Kentuckies left side. The Chi orb was baseball size, the impact would be felt like a fist to the gut if it did impact and upon impact it would ‘explode’ much like a water balloon and hit Kentucky with a gathered but small wave of heat and Kinetic force properties that would of course hurt in it itself…and also possibly leave a small scorch mark on the mans fancy get up.

Despite the slight intricacy and fancy footwork, proper preparation that was almost completely on the mark made Steers motion, from his pivot to Chi-ball flinging fluid, organized and swift, coming in just as quickly as Kentuckies second obviously magical/ability flinging word was nearly completed, perhaps cancelling out altogether, perhaps not. One thing was for certain; the crowd was enjoying the strange brawl already, not many ‘abilities’ were seen in these parts after all!

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Tom tucked his elbows in and tightened his hands into fists as Steer took a step forwards from the kick, grunting in surprise that this opponent was actually as tough as he looked. Tom had been hoping this one would be all show. So much for that. He planted his right foot firmly, putting his weight down on it and screwing his heel into the dirt in preparation for enduring the sweep. It smacked into him and forced his boot to slide inwards six inches, leaving a deep bruise. It hurt far worse than Tom had expected. This Fatso hadn't even put his full strength behind the sweep, and it still felt like his foot was bruised to the bone. Tom wasn't a professional martial artist by any definition. He knew how to fight mainly from schoolyard brawls, backwoods tumbles, and Southern back alley scuffles. It was a rough form of combat, and not at all clean, but it got the job done when it had to. Tom's lack of formal training didn't allow him to prepare for Steer's chi thrust in time though, and the only thing he could do, out of blind reflex, was swing his right fist down to try and bat the thrust aside, figuring it for some kind of fancy palm strike. Given Steer's stout strength, Tom wouldn't even come close to redirecting the aim of the thrust, and the punch of chi hit him right in the spare ribs on his left flank. His eyes bulged behind his shades as he felt his ribs creak under the blow, a stifled groan escaping him as his cigarette dropped from his mouth. That was gonna feel bad in the morning. It took the full brunt of his Kentucky grit to not miss the chance for a counterattack.

Tom had managed to avoid getting the wind knocked out of him, and so was at least able to finish his spell.

"Nerdwerdus!"

He fired his spell through the hand that had struck Steer's right thrust for an on-contact curse delivery into the man's arm with little chance of escape. The effect of the spell was to render Steer both near and short sighted, and to materialize a pair of fine glasses onto his face so that he could see again. Even as the spell was launched, Tom hunched forwards, twisted at the waist, and hurled a left straight as hard as he could at where those spectacles were due. Aside from the torque of his body the punch was untelegraphed, Tom keeping the flare of his elbow to a minimum to keep the angle and destination of the punch a mystery until the last moment. The result could very well be Steer's fresh coke bottles getting broken, along with his nose.

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Blankly Handing.}

It was the opposite for Steer. Mind you he didn’t start off as a great Martial Artists, but a good many years of traveling, a tutorship that revolved around that AND made him form his own method of Chi utilization made Steer the man he was now. Not invincible, not the perfect form of Martial Arts incarnate, no, none of the above…But he liked to think he was damn good at it one way or another. This was evident to Tom no doubt given the current actions but for his lack of ‘formal training’ his display and abities were keeping Steer on his toes. Simplicity at its finest or so it seemed, though Steer had to admit those weird names were…just that, weird and slightly silly. Nothing bad about it, it had proven effective once, and now twice as the curse was apparent upon striking.

“Fuck…”

Speaking of cursing, Steer mentally cursed himself for at least not activating ‘Blue Eyes’, might of saved him a problem or two, or he’d at least be able to detect Kentuckies magical influence while it was in the act. Sadly this wasn’t the case here and Steer found…his sight not fading but getting worse. Well that was just plain annoying…and…and was that physical matter forming randomly over his face? It was just what…Oh…Oh..

“Tom, you got one weird ass school of magic, broski…URK!”

Despite the words, it was an exchange of blows. While he flung his left arm for a punch, Steers mind recalled what it saw, Toms positioning and where a thing or two was, and since they were so close? He opted to forego defense in exchange for, well, literally exchanging blows. Kentuckies left and right hand in use meant Steers left was able to be used as well. About the same time he flung the punch, Steer flung what looked like a claw like ‘palm’…Towards Kentuckies neck. He didn’t need to get a full grasp, he just needed to get close enough. On the left hand, just like the right had done previously, that gray colored film had formed, only this time with a faint reddish outline. Unlike the first Chi blast, this was a Chi blast infused with a part of the Emotional Heptagon; Anger. Utilizing the reasoning of ‘well this jerk DIDN’T keep to melee, he just used magic first’ as a light outlet for Anger, Steer channeled his chi with Anger based properties outward into left hand and just as Kentuckies fist landed with his nose, he should feel something along the lines of the Chi from before…Only laced with a burning searing feeling that felt like a small fire on the skin of his neck that’d hurt but oddly enough NOT in what one could call a ‘killing’ way…Remember light powers, no raging infernos, searing blue flames or the rare ‘nuclear’ option, just simple harmful but NOT meant to kill heat applied to the neck!

This served two purposes in itself, as a foot note. Steer was well aware Kentucky could utilize his own right arm to possibly stop this, both being on the same level of each other, but if he did, well, long story short, his previous right hand strike would of stayed firmly on Kentuckies left side, sought to grab onto the clothing at that and if he thought it hurt first, well, if he bopped the left hand away, imagine feel that Chi on the same spot again only with the seering potency of the Anger ‘edge’. Easily traversable if needed, in fact Kentuckies reaction would dictate what occurred to an extent but regardless Steer got hit, without a chance to roll with the punch either and that hurt! Caused his feet to pace backward, one step for either, possibly still ‘glass-sighted’ or not, but such details were left up to the ‘Blind Nerd’ spell itself!

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise



Tom's magic was weird indeed, but highly effective when properly utilized. Case in point, Tom's counter for the chi thrust aimed at his neck. He could cast up to three spells per second with his highly trained auctioneer's diction, a regular speedshooter of magic, and now the words to another spell pelted out of his mouth as Steer threw a counter punch.

"Glasswhackius Buttmunchickus!"

Just as Steer kept a hold on Tom's clothing with his free hand, so did Tom's own right hand stay in contact with Steer's arm for another on-contact spell. This one would force the target to punch the nearest target with glasses in the face. Tom's shades counted as glasses, and although Steer had a pair of his own during the split second before their twin blows landed, Steer's chi thrust was nearer to Tom's face than to his own prescription glasses. As such, if the spell worked, Steer's chi thrust would be converted into a punch and redirect itself up towards Tom's face. Whether or not Steer could maintain the chi effect with a fist depended on his own abilities. As for Tom, with timing born from continuous practice at mastering the utilization of his spells, he'd tuck his head down at the last moment before impact so that the bone of Steer's knuckles would impact Tom's hard forehead and only the meat of his finger joints would crack Tom's lenses and bruise the bridge of his nose, thus fulfilling the spell's 'quota' and at the same time avoiding the brunt of the damage and potentially damaging Steer's hand. If Steer kept up his anger chi, Tom's head would rock back from the force, his nose would gout blood as it broke flat, and he'd experience heated agony running up and down the centerline of his face like a razorblade. He'd even take an involuntary right step backwards, thus surrendering his condition to remain standing in one spot. Presumably Steer wouldn't be unscathed though, as even boxers fractured their knuckles and metacarpals all the time by accidentally punching a sparring partner or opponent in the forehead.

As soon as the words were out of Tom's mouth, he'd riddle off another spell as fast as he could through the searing pain, blood staining his white teeth. At about the same time he quickly withdrew his left hand from its punch, extending his index finger as he did to point at random to the right of Steer.

"Foolookius Overthereius!"

Another spell surged through Tom's right hand and presumably into Steer's according arm, perhaps matching the timing for Steer's next point blank chi blast into Tom's ribs. Regardless, the effect of this spell was simple. Steer had to look and see where Tom was pointing. If the chi blast was fired, one of Tom's ribs would crack. He'd yowl in anguish, and during the moment Steer looked away, would aim a swift, panicked right kick for Steer's crotch, good and hard. Were this intense exchange of attacks to proceed, then when the dust cleared, Tom would finally give actual ground and start to stagger backwards, the brunt of his multiple injuries apparent. He wasn't ready to follow up with anything else for a few seconds, this shit hurt too much. It would be a short reprieve, a moment to acknowledge that Steer had forced Tom to budge. Of course if Steer were able to fare better in regards to any damage he himself took as well, he could hang onto Tom's clothing and keep him from moving away, pressing his advantage to deny Tom a chance to trade a few snarky words about how he owed Steer lunch.

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Stepping back to punch.}

This was getting weirder and weirder, but each purpose was served, at least. The change from a palm to a fist indeed, did not stop Steers intent. Truth be told the clutching ‘palm’ was more meant to get a grip on Tom, but a punch was still a punch, even if, indeed it clocked on the harder skull. Whats more, no boxing cloves, so as anger laced Chi Fist still landed, as did knuckles pop and feel the sting of a hard durable surface. Mind you, this wasn’t the ‘world of hurt’ Toms face was probably in, a punch to the dome was a punch to the dome, but Steer wasn’t going full ‘Fist throwing punch drunk’ force just yet. As if the oddities had to pile onto each other, as Steer did the second part to his two pronged Chi laced Attack, Tom quaintly did a hasty sounding spell of his own. This one was confusing as all hell as Steer…found the hand pointing irresistible. A look of utter bafflement took over his features as this occurred.

“Wha…OOF!”

Right to the balls Toms kick went, just after the eruption of Chi on the held spot. The small eruption would still occur mind you, but a kick to the nads was still a kick to the nads, and it hurt like heck. Steers knees wobbled but he had an idea. Fully focusing on the gal and ‘dishonor’ that he really didn’t feel, flair of actual JUST red anger-Chi stayed formed upon his right hand, the former gripping one. With Tom taking a step back due to releasing him, a small distance was between them…then quickly killed as Steer utilized his Projection ability and lightly ‘thrust’ his former gripping hand forward a tad bit. From it was projected a literal rad hand with bulnted curved but sharp ‘fingers’ that quickly sought to bash into and grip that assaulted side and with a wave of Steers hand pull it to his left, seeking to utilize the snap motion of his attack and slight disorientation Steer assumed Tom had to drive him down to the ground, right side first. The projected red colored Anger-Hand was connected to Steers upper left arm and hand, a slight handicap when he used the low-powered/snap shot like attacks in his arsenal of power, but effective none the less.

Still, again, Steer had been kicked in the nads and after the motion, success or not, a knee was taken ‘cus good LORD did that hurt. Regret came in not buying that cup a friend suggested, but oh well. Crowd was still into it (though the low bow earned a boo or two) and Steer was at least owed a meal and beer from all this. Win win for him, win-lose given what could occur.

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Tom was grabbed by his bruised side and hurled to the ground, letting out a choked groan as he slowly supported himself on hands and knees.

"Ugh... Shit, not bad son. You rang woodland bells with that one. Hope you like your beer cold and your chicken crispy. You win round one. Gimme a second, dammit."

If allowed, Tom would gradually climb to his feet and begin twisting from side to side, loosening up his cramping muscles and estimating the damage done to his ribs. After several seconds of this he'd turn his back to Steer, facing the crowd.

'Y'all motherfuckers better close your eyes. Serious now, I'll turn you wide-eyed punks into fat transvestites if you so much as peek."

Tom didn't seem to be the type of person to exaggerate. In one fluid motion, he whipped off his broken shades and flung them high into the air. He neatly jerked a thumb at himself and with a sharp utterance of "Blindorial Nerdwerdus", materialized a second pair of shades onto himself. He must have actually had bad vision, as they were most certainly prescription glasses. Then, before the cracked shades could hit the ground, he angled an index finger at them and snarled, "WeeMan Shinkickums". Out of nowhere flickered Wee Man, the midget from MTV's Jackass. Wee Man coolly snatched the sunglasses out of the air and crushed them in his pudgy fist, before vanishing into nothing.

Tom turned again to face Steer. Not a single hillbilly had dared to see what he looked like without sunshades. He tucked another cigarette into his mouth and flicked his thumb at the tip as if he were opening a Zippo lighter.

"Beachbaggo Burnsacko."

The cigarette was inexplicably lit, and Tom puffed a few times, regaining his composure, before finally, finally, FINALLY raising his fists again, tucking his chin in and bending at the knees, left foot leading. The left fist was extended out far in front of him, the overall impression being that of an early 1900's pugilistic fighting man's stance, the kind that large circus men with German mustaches used for rough and tumble boxing.

"Hey, one last thing Steer. You know any cartoons from before the 90's? Got a favorite?"

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Recarded.}

He was only lucky, truth be told. Had Tom done something or just dodged the projection, truth be told he probably would have had Steer on the defensive, what with the nut kick and all. Regardless, such wasn’t the case and both fighters found themselves momentarily paused. Steer was tense, one eye shut tight and frowning because he expected Tom to be on him or send something utterly weird, wacky, but efficient/effective magic wise…instead a pair of glasses and of all things a little person appeared. Glasses were handed to Tom and like that the little person was gone. Any pain once in his ballsack was gone just because his mind, his body was focused on the absurdity of it all. He blinked, shook his head and stood up, tilting his head to one side then the other, eyes shut, shoulders rolling before of all things a lopsided grin formed on his pale white face.

“You aint to bad yourself. That spell stuff you got comes in handy, offensive wise and er…well, utility wise.”

From base observations. His own ‘ability’ had faded, both Chi and Anger-Chi, not because he couldn’t maintain them, but moreso for a slight ‘honor’ reason. They were obviously restarting, mostly because they both had sort of outdid the other in certain aspects and Steer didn’t mind. The stance taken seemed simple but the old boys back in the day, despite being straightforward and not so tact with their punches, knew how to throw them. Luckily, despite his somewhat more ‘Eastern’ training in terms of melee and martial arts, he knew the slgihts and in and outs of boxing.

“Well, since the wager is over…How do you wanna do this, Mr. Tom? TKO, submission, etc? Stick to fists this time or go with whatever flow both of us are feeling?”

Best to ask now. He had a feeling Tom wouldn’t exactly answer him or be straight with him, advantages and possibility of vengeance on Toms part made Steer think this, but you never know, right? Right. Steer inhaled a breath of air, knees bent slightly, right foot sliding back and both arms coming up in what Steer called a ‘Walled Box’ formation, forearms facing Tom while fists stood up and covered his lips. To the question his brow quirked and he thought real hard. Sadly he wasn’t born during that time and the time after was, well…Literal ALIENS fucking things up, he did remember some of the shows his father showed him, who was old enough to know a few shows and have the ability to show them to Steer as a kid.

“…Ren and Simpy.”

Why did he feel like he was going to regret saying this, despite his prepared stance?

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Tom nodded slowly, his expression grave. He looked like an Arkansas father who had no choice but to shoot and bury his son's rabid dog. He opened his extended left hand, palm facing the sky.

"I'll try not to stray from that show, but don't hold me to it. I wind up with Scrooge Mcduck more often than I'd like to admit. As for the win condition... Submission seems proper. I reckon you'll understand why, seein' as you're a quick learner. Kindly make the first move. I prefer using this in the heat of the moment. Charactero Dangledoodius."

A white light spanned the breadth of Tom's caged fingers, congealing into a faintly humming orb, its reflection glittering coldly in his sunglasses. Something about the presentation of this particular spell seemed to single it out as something particularly nasty, even compared to Tom's threat to turn the crowd into transvestites. It likely wasn't even remotely lethal, taking into account the indirect nature of Tom's magic, but that didn't mean it would be fun to experience this so-called 'Charactero Dangledoodius'.

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Instant regret.}

Yeah oh yeah, he was regretting it already. He should of kept his big mouth shut but Tom heard anyway and he said and obvious spell incantation that in reality, Steer had no clue what to deduce what would happen or even predict it. Such was usually the way with magic, honestly, but it tended to be more direct to. Toms arsenal reminded the whimsical martial artist of ideas concocted and cooked up during inebriation and laughed/joked about after the fact. Nothing wrong with it, Steer could appreciate the simplicity and quickness of it, though the thought of what possibly was gonna happen made him huff behind his fists, the left part of his lips tugging up in a toothy smile.

“Just to let you know, if you turn me into Powdered Toast man, THEN we’ll have actual problems. I used to have dreams of cinnamon and a man flying backwards to dropkick me in the face when I was little.”

Humor again, though he wasn’t lying. Submission and he had to go first again…he nodded, a thought or two passing his head, that hidden smirk never leaving his head as he found himself rather…Happy, with everything at the moment. The fight, his opponent, the people around them with their cheers and jeers, even the surrounding area. Despite what it was all for, it was oddly soothing to Steer and it concocted into a light bit of Happiness he enjoyed…and was intent on soon utilizing, should things get hazy. Hidden Schematics aside, Steer took a step forward with his right foot, stopped just in case (if there was one thing he learned Tom was quick and resourceful and was good at acting while you were in the process) then, instead of stepping forward, he slid his left foot forward gradually. After the right step his left side had turned back a bit, which was odd given how his knees were slightly bend and how he was sliding his left foot forward, but it served its purpose. That foot or two breached, left side reared back a bit but left foot moving forward, Steer attempted what he called a ‘Light-Left Hook’, the swing of his left forward added in with his left foot sliding up giving the punch attempt (the former ‘Wall’ left fist moving appropriately to accommodate this) a bit of momentum but nothing wild, just a simple boxing measure with a simple ploy.

Back to melee, or so Steer hoped, everything aside from the punch still in place and secretly planned, just in case!

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Tom patiently watched Steer edge closer, still vibing harsh. He remained unmoving until Steer threw his light hook, whereupon the spell flashed towards Steer's torso from less than two feet away with with instant acceleration, reaching the immediate velocity of an arrow fired from a longbow. As this occurred Tom kicked backwards, sliding out of Steer's reach and hurling forth another spell from his left hand, aiming again at Steer's chest.

"Slipsoapia Faceplantium!"

Were 'Charactero Dangledoodius' to hit, Mr. Horse from the Ren & Stimpy Show would materialize with his hairy animal ass only a foot above Steer's head, suspended in the air as if free from gravity. Wherever Steer moved, Mr. Horse would remain overhead.



"No sir! I don't like it-AAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!!"

Provided the initial spell resolved as intended, Mr. Horse would be interrupted as blood and shit began gushing out of his anus in great steaming quantities. There was literally no end to the vile dysentery, an endless flow of watery crimson-flecked feces threatening to wash Steer's face and drench his clothes with in spicy spurts of grundle juice. He'd be more than likely to take some in the mouth if he opened it.

As for the second spell, it only flew as fast as a small object thrown by a child. Steer might have been too distracted by Mr. Horse though, and if it touched him he'd find himself standing atop a 5x5 foot marble tile slick with lube. The result? Steer potentially slipping. Worst case scenario, he'd be wallowing in liters of horse crap, continually scrambling to try and get back to his feet without slipping again. Were this the case, Tom would only stand a safe distance away, soberly offering Steer as much time as he needed to gather himself.

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Speed.}

“Urk!”

No such luck with the melee, only, spells. The spell was launched and it was at this moment Steer theorized rather than instant casting it, Toms spells JUST needed to be said then willing to launch. Again, just a theory but one Steer was somewhat sure in, given how he was just hit by one. It was ok though, despite Toms shift backward, Steer moving back a foot himself from the impact of the near point blank blow…Only to have a shadow over him in the form of Mr.Horses literal ass hanging a foot overhead. For any sane person this would be moment for pause to register the madness literally overhead, but for Steer? It caused a strange grin to form over his face. It wasn’t Powdered Toast man and this made Steer happy, almost ludicrously so, blue with happiness or so someone might say…literally.

Literally in a sense that, from before he was already feeling happy, and Happiness in all it’s odd fleeting but useful forms was a part of the Emotional Heptagon. In this case, it flared in a strange sparkler like fashion about Steers hands down to a little below his wrist AND his feet and ankles. This of course worked with its physical affect; Speed. As soon as it flared up, Steer had moved forward towards Tom again, still in that ‘Half Wall’ boxing pose as the distance between them was breached, Steer basically literally outpacing mister Horses attempt to unwillingly divulge himself on top of Steers head. This inadvertently made Steer dodge the slippery marble slope as well, his left fist reared back in the process of getting right back into Toms face, flying forward seeking to drive itself fiercely into Toms right side. The added speed boost added a bit of force to the blow, nothing on levels of speeding car but it would be felt if it impact, that and a strange searing feeling that was different the Rages, like on a different stranger almost inhuman level.

The hope was that, despite Mr. Horse being that close, Steers sudden fit of speed would not only allow him to dodge the initial spurt, but also, as stated keep on and force Tom thus making Steers positioning constantly changing and never in the same place twice while Mr. Horse was formed. It seemed also, Steer was focused on specific portions of his body, the hands and feet region but if one looked closely, they could swear there was a tint of blue highlighting his whole frame. Plans plans, long story short.

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Mr. Horse would keep perfect pace with Steer, though the tile would be avoided just in the nick of time. Mr. Horse was in a magically set position in relation to Steer, a companion that couldn't be escaped. Lots of that poopy would likely run into Steer's eyes as well, adding to his already near-sighted vision.

Steer had made the right kind of choice. Tom's magic was nasty, but for the most part if you had guts, you could wade on through and keep pounding. Most of the threat was psychological, a magic meant to tear down self esteem. If you didn't give a crap about crap, you stood a much better chance. Tom hadn't been expecting Steer's speed boost, a feat from outside his realm of experience. He could only dip down and tuck in his right elbow to try and absorb the brunt of the punch with his arm, no thought in his head telling him to try and throw a punch back. It hurt too bad. The moment it hit him, he knew on the spot that he couldn't keep this up for long. This fat kid was better trained and much stronger. That punch was the kind you'd expect to leave a welt the size of a golfball behind, and no doubt it would. The pain came fast and hard, and Tom staggered towards the nearby fenced out crowd, agony casting white sparks in his brain as he rapidly whispered out yet another spell, unable to loudly enunciate from the radiating pain in his various wounds. It pelted out from his right hand towards the encroaching Steer's gut.

"Narratium Expositorium..."

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{HOLY SPEED, KENTUCKYMAN!!!!}

He was preparing something from the get go. Covered in shit, smelling worse (mix a fat guy with shit and blood and even if he is clean, fucking hell the SMELL) than expected, he was still intent on staying on Tom despite this, though, strangely enough as quickly as the excrements hit, they seemed to bubble and burst/crumble off, not without leaving the stench behind. There was a reason for this and it had to do with what Steers counter and what he was about to hopefully enact. As stated with the punch (though the side order of Mr. Horse Excrements) he moved as fast as Tom was forced back, leaving fading blue whisps in his wake as the Happiness laced Chi increased Steers speed and agility further, just a tad, but that was only so he could get up close to him. He had another idea in mind then using pure speed and it would come into play here. Shifting his left arm so his elbow stuck out towards his left, while he moved towards Tom he bent the rest of his arm inward then quickly arched it in a snapping motion. Not this time (hopefully); Steer was basically attempting to slap and redirect Toms right arm mid spell and either negate it altogether or make its fly off elsewhere.

“Annndddd…Pop!”

Two words but spoken unusually fast, the defensive measure was also tied in with an offensive one. A low clutching right palm was thrust forward, towards Toms left side again and while in transition to trying to get there, hit or miss, that small outline would flare to life for a brief second all over his body then condensed into Steers right hand. The objective was letting the ability property of the Happiness Chi come into play, basically Holy Properties which Steer concentrated lightly then set in his right hand. Again as fast as it formed, transitioned to his right hand, it would be utilized whether it hit or miss. An explosive swirling blue colored mini-blast of searing Holy properties that Steer was hoping would envelope Toms front left side, or just left side in general. Normally an almost weird little smile would be on Steers face, efforts succeeding or not, but…Well…He kept his mouth closed. Just his body needed to smell bad, not every damn orifice after that Mr. Horse crap, pun intended.

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

Ah, the number one way to deal with wizards. Smack away their staves and hands, and by proxy their spells. A tried and true technique, no doubt about it. It didn't work on Tom like Steer had expected, though. Steer succeeded in smacking away the retreating Tom's hand, but the spell didn't follow. Instead the white ball of light remained where it had materialized, Tom freezing the spell in place between them so that Steer's momentum would carry his sizable mass into it as he gave close chase. The effect of this spell was simple but diabolical. Steer had to narrate every thing he did before he did it, in a booming voice that appealed to the audience. He'd be given the instinctive knowledge that he had to do this. If this forced Steer to pause and declare how he'd continue to approach and attack Tom, then a split second later Tom, who had bumped into the edge of the stable, finally let loose with all he had. He chambered his elbows and began spawning spells from his fingers at Steer, dual shooting from the hips. He could talk at least two and a half times faster than Steer..

"Dirtlingusshoutloudiunudesweetabareassumssacechangiumlaughardiculum!"

[Metal Tortoise]

@Doc Doctor

Steer:

{Morghan Freeman.}

“HAPPINESS INFUSED QUICK OFFENSIVE MOVEMENTS WITH RIGHT ARM LEADING INTO A CHI HOLY BLAST TO KENTUCK TOMS LEFT FRONT OR SIDE!”

The error in Toms calculation was two-fold but simple; he assumed Steer couldn’t talk as fast as him and normally? He’d be right. In this instance though? He was wrong. Happiness was based on speed when utilized, as stated, all the good things from physical to ability AND the useless things like random body twitching and TALKING increased as well. This would be seen, heard by the audience as Steer for some reason (which he just KNEW was Toms fault, his wacky spell and all) dramatically narrated it before doing it, being able to be understood but also saying it quickly as well, fast, just as or maybe a little faster than Tom even. The Happiness infused Holy-Chi based eruption would still go off, though as an added fix, a backup plan was in motion, since he was right in front of Tom and could see him speak.

“LEFT PALM STRIKE TO THE JAW TO STOP TOMS SPELL SPEAKING!”

Just as fast as before, in terms of speaking and physical action. Indeed, his left palm used to redirect Toms right would snap up attempting to clock him mostly in the underside of his jaw to shut him up, but one had to imagine if he clocked the Magician anywhere on the head his practiced words might be cut off right? Steer liked to think so, he also liked to think with his speed and basically being less then arms length away from Tom, even with the narration spell, this would work but…really, who knew at the moment? It was a weird fight this one. Laced with Chi, vulgarity, grunts of pain and spells of Mr. Horse of all things!

[Doc Doctor]

@Metal Tortoise

The problem was that Steer had to say what he was going to do before he did it. If he wanted to change his mind and do something else, he also had to say so. If Steer wanted to avoid Tom's next spell, he had to narrate it, but he had already begun narrating a chi thrust. It seemed that Steer was opting to try and beat Tom to the punch, so to speak, trying to ignore whatever else came his way. The narration spell had entirely changed the flow of the fight though, and Steer's previous strategy wasn't going to be as effective now. Even if he could talk as fast as Tom, that didn't make the curse a positive by any means. It was still very bad news. By the time Steer had gotten past the word 'movements', Tom's first spell would have been fired and its speed was incomparable to anything Tom had used before. As a general rule, the stronger one of Tom's spells was, the slower it traveled. Weak spells were crazy fast. Thing was, sometimes weak spells worked with strong spells to produce dramatically enhanced effects. 'Dirtlingus Shoutloudius' was as fast as a bullet, and for good reason. It forced the opponent to bellow out their dirtiest secret immediately, and again every two minutes.

Of course, with all this yelling and narrating, Tom's mouth was bound to be loaded with Mr. Horse's bloody poop. The spells all stacked in their little ways. One wasn't so bad, but the effects all benefited from each other in one way or another. Even large animals can fall if enough mosquitos bite.

If Steer was hit by the wickedly fast spell, he'd suddenly be interrupted from his narrated action and be forced to yell his deepest, darkest secret at the top of his voice. During that brief fiasco he'd be unable to narrate, and as such would have no way to defend himself from the next two spells in line or to try and hit Tom in the jaw, which also wasn't very likely. After all, Tom would wind up knowing Steer's attack before it came, and could almost certainly inflict yet another status effect before it touched him.

'Nudesweeta Bareassium', as fast as an arrow, would dissipate all of Steer's clothing and envelope him in a sticky mist of honey. 'Sexchangium Laughardiculum', the speed of a small thrown object, would transmute Steer into the opposite gender. The result in total? A naked, sticky, shit-stained girl blurting out horrible things as a floating cartoon horse voided its bowels over her head.