PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

[primordialice]

- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.

All other matters are first come, first served.

Comments

[theblacklamb]

Scar takes the hit and rolls with it, coming up with a split lip and an even wider grin. "How many pieces can you be taken apart into and still come back together?" He flexes his fingers, the blue glow dying away from his claws. "Such a pretty light..."

He lunges again, feinting to the side and whirling around to strike for Brighella's back.

[primordialice]

"Think you can cut me fast enough to find out?" Wriothesley throws up an arc of viciously pointed ice crystals to slow Scar's attack, giving him enough time to meet it head on, blocking it and throwing a few more punches, testing his response time. "Come on, Eleventh, show me what you can really do."

Part of Wriothesley wants to know if there's a chance Scar can really hurt him, do more than make him feel a moment of pain before he knits himself back together. The rest just wants to see him try and be humbled.

[theblacklamb]

Scar dodges, clucking. Brighella's playing defensive. That's no fun. He needs to make him try.

"Is it time to play for keeps, Tenth?" Scar laughs, and keeps laughing, the sound going deep and distorted as his body shifts and bursts and lengthens into something larger, something more. He shakes himself out and stretches to his full twelve foot height, sparks glinting off of the horns spiralling off of his four-eyed skull. He grins at Brighella--as if he can do anything but grin, like this--and leaps, swinging a fist the size of his entire torso at him.

[primordialice]

"Oh, that's more like it." Scar's other form is fascinating. Wriothesley looks up - and up - with a grin, the scars melting away from his skin as a spiky, iridescent aura forms around him. "Love the goat head."

Four razor sharp shards of ice go flying towards Scar's eyes but pierce any part of his body they can reach as Wriothesley takes the punch, just to see what it feels like. He's knocked back a pace but steadies himself, his grin only getting wider. "Still not enough, Mezzo! Come on!"

[theblacklamb]

"Aberrant Nightmare, Dottore calls me. Do you think I'm nightmarish, Brigi?" Scar ducks back, protecting his lidless eyes, and laughs. "One!"

With a sharp gesture, fire explodes around the other man, and through it, Scar's arm slams, claws aimed to impale.

[primordialice]

"We all know the Doctor has no taste. Who'd say such a thing about a beautiful body like this?" Brighella's sounding a little exhilarated, leaning out of the way of the claws so they rake his side and face - another burst of blue-purple and he brushes away shredded cloth while throwing up up ten foot spikes of ice under Scar's massive body.

He claps his hand and a blizzard of ice spins out from around him, snow and thin shards of ice creating a cloud blocking visibility that grows wider and wider.

[theblacklamb]

"Careful, you'll make me blush!" Not that he can when he doesn't have skin on his head, but on principle. Scar throws himself to the side, the spikes opening up a long gash on his leg that starts oozing black ichor.

He fights ice with fire, a blaze eating at the blizzard, trying to reach inward towards Brighella. A rectangle of fire yawns in the air above the center of the blizzard and Scar leaps, dropping out of the portal to smash down on his best guess of the other man's location.

[primordialice]

Scar lands hard, driving Wriothesley into the ground - he might be able to hear a muffled laugh as bands of pure cold wraps around his wrists and he's violently yanked backwards by a frozen chain attached to the nearest cave wall. Wriothesley's on his knees, but he hasn't moved another step yet, and as the blizzard clears he has a great view to send more icicles at Scar.

[theblacklamb]

A hit, if not one that moves Brighella a step other than maybe 'down'. And then--bonds. Scar struggles, fire bursting from his hands to try and melt the ice away. "It's no fun tying me up if you're all the way over there, Brigi!"

[primordialice]

The ice resists the flame for now, glinting with blue and purple tones that suggest it's a little different from his usual pure Cryo energy. He'll have to get a little hotter.

"You'd rather be over here, Mezzo?" The chain breaks free from the wall and drags him, yanking him across the arena at high speed to slam him into the other wall. "Or there?" There's plenty of walls around, Wriothesley can keep doing this.

[theblacklamb]

Scar grunts in pain as he hits a wall, one of his arms snapping with a loud crack. He laughs again, ragged and wild, and a whirlwind of fire forms around him, speeding and sucking in air until it burns white-hot. Invisible behind it, he straightens his arm back out with an unpleasantly fleshy squelching crunch, and focuses the fire on the chain holding him back. It wouldn't do to make this too easy, after all.

[primordialice]

The chain breaks under the white-hot fire, but it bought Brighella time - time enough for a second construct of primordial ice, a three-headed wolf nearly Scar's that howls loud enough that it echoes through the chamber, charging with open jaws to snap and claw at him.

[theblacklamb]

Scar takes a claw to the stomach, another wound dripping black ichor, and blocks a bite with one forearm, whirling to shove the wolf towards the whirlwind of fire behind him. "No, I want to fight you!" Bursts of flame explode around the area with no real direction, almost more frustrated than actively attacking.

[primordialice]

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint." He sends a ridge of spikes rocketing up through the ground toward Scar, still unmoving from his spot at the centre of the room. Scar has to earn four more steps, after all. Brighella is having fun with how much this game seems to be frustrating his junior - he's getting sloppy, he can tell. "Come on! Come get me! Four more steps, Mezzo!"

[theblacklamb]

Scar ignores the spikes entirely, letting them shred his leg muscle as he drops to all fours and charges at Brighella with a roar, slamming into him with the force of a runaway train. Using the size difference against him was what got him the first step, so that's the clear route for more.

[primordialice]

Yep, that's sloppy. Of course, being smug gets him slammed into, earning Scar another two steps as Wriothesley has to shift backward and brace himself, throwing a fist and two spears of ice into Scar's belly. "Almost... there." He laughs softly. "Think you can hold yourself together long enough?"

[theblacklamb]

Scar wraps one huge hand around Brighella's chest, the other around one of his arms, and rips. "Punch me now, Brigi!" He's panting, now, the spear through his stomach bad enough for him to notice through his frustration. He clubs the other man over the head with his own arm.

[primordialice]

That amount of pain is enough for Wriothesley to lose focus for a second, his stance weakening as he hisses through his teeth, pupils dilating wide. "That's it, Mezzo..." The ragged edge to his voice could be pain - but there might be something else there too.

The torn off arm definitely has blood and bone in it, but he doesn't bleed much - and as he stumbles back another step, a shining blue and purple growth of water almost like a tentacle flows out from the stump of his shoulder, taking only a moment to form hand and fingers and solidify into flesh - though now bare of both sleeve and gauntlet.

[theblacklamb]

"What happens if I take your head, Brigi?" Scar asks, voice echoing discordantly. "Can I save up a pile of pieces of you and you'll just keep making more?" He rips a bite out of the exposed muscle of the arm he's holding before dropping it to the ground and wrapping the hand around Brighella's throat. "Four!"

[primordialice]

Wriothesley chuckles like Scar's just told a joke, his eyes just growing darker as Scar takes a bite of him, very literally. His voice is strained from the squeeze of Scar's hand, but it still holds a great deal of confidence. "You know, nobody's ever had the guts to cut my head off." And it's a little hard to do on his own. Judging from other experiments, though, he's sure it would grow back. He's not sure it matters what gets removed anymore. It'll all come back.

"Four..." He licks his lips. "You got what it takes for one more?"

[theblacklamb]

"Let's find out together!" Scar laughs, wild and echoing, and rips his arms apart, holding Brighella's body up in front of him in one hand and his head in the other, watching. Which one will he grow back from? The larger piece, or his brain?

[primordialice]

It takes a moment, but then there's a spiral of primordial water that blossoms out of the severed neck of Wriothesley's body, forming just as rapidly as his arm into a new head. He's already laughing by the time it solidifies, grinning up at Scar. "Did you satisfy your curiosity, Eleventh?"

[theblacklamb]

“I want to mince you and burn the pieces,” Scar growls, hunger in his voice. “I want to burn you till your waters boil.” He drops the bodiless head to the ground and pushes Brighella backwards, forcing his legs to skid across the ground. “Five!”

[primordialice]

"Oh, feel free to try." Wriothesley grunts as he's pushed, then laughs. "Five it is. Good boy, let's have some fun."

A massive crystal of primordial ice shoots up around him, forcing Scar's hand away. There's a shifting form inside it - but not for long, as a huge three-headed wolf bursts of it, the shards all flying toward Scar as the black and grey beast approaches.

[theblacklamb]

Scar growls low in his chest when Brighella calls him good. He doesn’t have long to focus on it, though, as the ice forces his grip away, and then he’s whirling fire around him to block the shards of ice, eyes lighting up in interest at the wolf that isn’t made of ice this time. “Is that you, Brigi? Have you decided to play with me properly now?”