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originally posted in:The Digital Dojo
8/4/2016 8:36:24 PM
1
[i]The shot fired from The Preacher's firearm was truly a massive bullet, and so when JT went to block it with his right arm, it traveled through the steel and carbon fibre of his wrist and nailed him directly in the heart, which sent it exploding into pieces inside of his body. How he was still standing was unknown, probably due to the nanites in his bloodstream, which was gained after getting his Insufferable Maxim. No blood, no need for a heart, right?
But he still had a gaping hole in his chest, one that would take days of fixing to repair. He pulled out a single revolver from his duster, and Tagged The Preacher's firearms. One by one shots of plasma were unleashed and flew towards the barrels that surrounded JT's enemy, but he for whatever reason left the gun in his hand in a working condition. [/i]
English
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[u]The large assault rifle is shattered, shrapnel spraying into The Preacher's side. Part of his mask is sheared off by a large peace that then lodges itself into his left eye, popping it in a spurt of blood. The Preacher pulls the Shrapnel out of his eye, taking what's left of the eye with it. Blood pours down his shattered mask as he pulls small bits of metal out of his left arm. He shows no signs of having felt the pain from the wound, most likely due to his current state of high.[/u] "[i]YOU FIGHT WELL, HEATHEN! A GOOD SON OF THE BULLET YOU WOULD MAKE IF NOT FOR YOUR WAYS![/i]" [u]He reloads the revolver, putting a single round in the chamber.[/u]
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[i]The Marshal spun his plasma revolver around his fingers in a display of complete control over his firearm, before he swiftly thrust the firearm back into the duster he wore. His right hand folded back and into his sleeve, before the steel plates and carbon fibre skin embraced his wrist, and wrapped around the entire thing. From in the hole where the wrist is, a single blade of pure steel extends proudly and reaches a fair two and a half feet, before the wrist closes around it and solidifies it into place. [/i]
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[u]The Preacher raises his eyebrows before sticking his revolver into it's holster. He takes out three brightly colored syringes and draws his buzz axe, spinning the blade with a flick of his wrist.[/u] "[i]IF IT'S A CONTEST OF BLADES YOU WANT, THEN IT'S ONE YOU'LL GET![/i] [u]He slams the syringes into his neck, pushing the plungers down. His arms and legs swelling with muscular mass, his movements now twitchy and random.[/u] "[i]ISNHAHHAAASRGH![/i]" [u]He charges towards JT, swinging his blade madly.[/u]
