Avatar of Metal Tortoise
  • Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 137 (0.05 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Metal Tortoise 8 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

I like RP and RP Accessories.

Not new to RP, new to RPGuild, from canons to OC's, I like it all. I like to fight, I like to plan, I like to random, and I like people in general.

Shoot me a PM at anytime, I'm quick to respond and I like to think I'm a swell fellow when not angry.

Most Recent Posts

t1/TBL is preferred. I can stick to those levels if you want, I like to think I can adapt to anything in that regards.

If you wish, Griffintaur, I also wont mind just doing a different/new fight altogether.

Pardon me for taking a bit to respond, I keep forgetting to look here like a chode.
Goodness, I just checked this, pardon the delay. Going about it is anything from just random to plotted out and what have you.

What details if you dont mind me asking.

And yeah we did, it's still up and I posted last if you wanna read through it a bit. Rusty as hell with Steer but I wouldn't mind continuing it or starting something anew.
Forgot to mention the Force Orbs attacks wont fire off towards Preachers direction. He has a little device that basically gives him a decent sized spanning triangle of safety.
Preacher:

{Suns Blocking?}

Appearance at random for both sides; it was in its own way so meta that it almost weren’t worth mentioning were it not for the fact this seemed to happen with almost every sort of fight in the history of existence. This and more passed through the (pardon sudden details, forgot to mention it previously) mind of the 6’6 strangely ‘evened out’ (at least with his attire) body as Caitlyn, dubbed Void Mistress (unknown to Preacher of course) literally descended/impacted before him, crater and all. His expression did not change but internally things were whirring.

Hands reached for different directions, in a modest but well-paced fashion at that. His right for the gun slung over his shoulders, our Preacher fellow not exactly moving to grab it but still oddly enough reaching for the trigger. There was a click and maybe Caitlyn had the ability to ‘see’ beyond vision (IE behind Preacher) and maybe not but the strange simple motion he made amounting to using a sturdy if not thin hook to keep the trigger pulled back. Oddly enough it did not fire but the hard-glass container began to change colors as internal mechanisms working with a highly sufficient battery began moving and glowing a low but light shade of red. Something for later, or so Preacher hoped, but in the meantime he needed to try to keep the woman occupied didn’t he?

The left hand mentioned had moved more towards that mentioned leather pouch and hopefully enough time was given for him to throw what he called a Force Orb. Softball sized and shaped silver colored with purple lining the side, bottom, and top, the Force Orb contained a literal force turbine that, upon being tossed, utilized the small but concentrated force it generated to stay afloat. Four smaller versions of it, with likewise smaller turbines exited through small ports on each ‘point’ of the Force Orb. With rapid speed, both ‘mother’ and ‘children’ Force Orbs vibrated and then, at first, didn’t directly assault. Kinetic force was generated through the turbines of all four and one would be right to assume this was semi-useless at the beginning but the key here is what the Orbs absorbed and how they processed the Kinetic force. As stated the turbines of each is what kept them afloat but it was also a Kinetic force gatherer and amplifier and this served to the basis of its offense. Close together (Say two and a half feet at all sides, the smaller Orbs were ‘surrounding’ the bigger Orb in a square kind of formation) the generated pulse like force emitted from the Orbs basically connected with each other on the spot and though this process meant a good amount was lost in the flow, plenty more, coupled with the fact the generating rate was very high, well, some of that stored Kinetic Force became honed. Soaring and being thrown to other Orbs only increased this and well, the end result was a small, (say one and a half foot tall and half foot in width as a general scope, though they varied) but potent long reaching naturally made force-blast. The potency of these blasts, small or not was apparent as close by old vehicles and buildings found a hole, the size of each blast, punched through them old if not solid brick, metal, and wood were a thing these blasts could almost easily punch through, and a whole bullets hell worth of them were consistently being formed and, despite their scattered process of ‘attack’, giving a wide berth to possibly hit Caitlyn with.

While out Preacher fellow was no mainstay of a supreme force like Caitlyn was, or a cosmic champion of the ages, he liked to think he wasn’t a fool. Despite what he liked to think was a good level of offensive potency from the Force Orb, such a thing might not even do much at all or anything for that matter. The Beam Rifles steady preparation was a technical ‘side arm’ to this possibility if all went to hell as was Preachers gathering power. Psionic energies began to form and accumulate on his person, nothing absolutely visible from the get go but it did show in the form of misty light purple wavy output from his hands and feet, a light measure and form of focus somewhat having been formed in the process but it found itself not having to be used just yet, despite the potential first part of it possibly coming into play already. Exhaling a breath of air, most likely unseen behind that messy main of beard and head hair, red veins began forming around his eyes, to what affect, well, one could only guess.

He was ready though, or hopefully getting to an adequate level of readiness to put up a fight.
Going.

...I guess I should also say this is general 'ask for fight' thing from me, least incidentally spam with requests.
A few references:

>>Preacher

>>And his rifle.
Preacher :

{Sunlit.}

A day bright, a day devoid of most life, and a path leading through a long abandoned brick and wood town told the man known as Preacher that somehow, someway, this’d be a day of battle. Immediately or eventually he did not know but his strolling pace was at least absorbing the brightness of the day. Gloved hands sat comfortably within front side pockets of a long somewhat faded black colored unbuttoned preachers coat (which was wound over a white button up dress shirt), dress pant clad legs and booted feet carried him forward and dark eyes, almost hidden behind a messy main of indistinguishable but dark unkempt head and facial hair, consistently peered forward past most things within range. Slung over his shoulder was what he called a ‘Beam Rifle’ with a bayonet attachment, through his coat, though hard to see, a little leather ‘pack’ seemingly jingled small but audible metal clacks as he moved.

Days like these, despite his drab monotone somewhat melancholy personality, were things he quietly enjoyed. The area itself somewhat revived him of more rural areas of home and the day, well, that in itself was wonderful. Near the center of the abandoned town, our Preacher fellow stopped in his tracks. Abandoned oldish looking vehicles lined various chunks of what obviously was a small but stable main street. A particular building at this point in time, a two story thing that was probably a general store, had one of its older stuck out bricks finally break and plop on the ground with a soft thud, something our Preacher fellow bore witness to. Eyes trailed to various one story abandoned buildings of various makes, sizes, and heights and stopped once again somewhere on the road were ahead of him someone had made (a long abandoned one, like everything else) a makeshift barricade. It was an odd thing considering there didn’t appear to be a sign of a struggle anywhere, or skeletal remains for that matter and the barricade itself seemed strangely placed.

“…”

It made Preacher sniff a bit and, that was that really. Licks lipped quietly, our Preacher fellow adjusted himself were he stood but did just that, in a dull fashion; stood in a seemingly aimless fashion. He was thirsty, an eagle cried out in the distance and…none of this is really relevant but, eh, little details while the impending sense of ‘threat’ would not leave our Preacher fellows mind.

@Zyamasiel
...Yeah, looking for a bout. Dunno who I'd use but if anyones down? Hit me up.
Well that sure is a bummer.
...Is there an order to post offhand? I was under the impression first come first er...post or somethin'.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet