dear_mun | Because this Mun just couldn't help themselves

[Orcrist is already out of it's sheath at the sight of the creature. Give him one reason to take your head and he will oblige.]

Stand, creature. Account for yourself or die by a dwarf's hand.

[A Dwarf. One with an elven blade. As Prak had come from a time after Thorin it did not know who he was. So simply, it chose to chuckle at him. That chuckle soon however turned into a low and rumbling growl as it drew out a pair of jagged war picks and raised them before-]

UuuuRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!

[-it howled like a demon born from the very pits of the abyss. Prak relishes a challenge, and gives Thorin a look that could almost be called vindictively smug.]

Hrrrrrgh.

[He knows that look and loathes it. The very one that sat upon the face of Azog the Defiler. Thorin glares back in hatred, raising his sword in both of his hands. Prepared to fight.]

Then I shall send you back to the pit from where you spawned!

[Thorin charges at Prak, yelling as he comes.] Khazâd ai-mênuuuu!!!

[Thorin's reply is demented laughter as the Uruk charges in turn in a berserk fury. The picks in his hand having tasted the blood of many; human, dwarf, even other Uruks. And it looked like for them, dwarf was on the menu once more.]

RrrWAAAAARGH!!!

[The massive beast of an Uruk brought the twisted weapons in its hands in a downward swing that tore through the air like an avalanche down a mountain. A rather simple opening gambit.]

[Orcrist flashed blue in the air as it swung to meet both blades in a loud clang of metal. His feet digging into the dirt to hold his own, Thorin pushed back from the meeting of weapons to free his blade and swing across in a play to strike at the arms holding the weapons. This was a heavy fighter, but that did not dissuade him from the fight.]

[Thorin gained a momentary respite from the push and would no doubt be pleased as Orcrist tasted blood. But he would know that momentary victories like this were probably best followed up on as soon as possible, something Prak would be working to prevent as the Uruk assaulted Thorin relentlessly despite the deep cuts into its limbs.]

[Howling like the depraved beast it undoubtedly was, Prak's arms were a flurry of movement as they near continuously let loose swings at Thorin that were all but made more vicious from the pain the Uruk felt, blood splashing all over from the open wounds.]

[Thorin is driven back by the blows, circling slightly as he tries to keep the upper hand in the fight. There's a near hit that involves his chain mail protecting him from a deadly cut, him jumping back to regain his footing. Where's a good oak shield when he needed one?]

HYAAAAAAARGH!!!

[It probably would be handy, those picks look like they would get stuck pretty hard if they slammed into one. Seeing Thorin stumble Prak pushes his advantage and charges, rather than going for a killing blow though he simply seeks to smash Thorin across the face with the haft of one of his picks in a backhand!]

[Blood flows freely from his nose after that hit. It only fuels the anger against the creature attacking him. He rolls left out of the line of fire, leaving a rock wall for the picks to hit instead. Striking out at Prak's left leg with Ocrist.]

[A horrific scraping noise fills the air as the picks scrape across the rock wall. That roll was extremely well timed Thorin, that one looked like it really would have hurt. As for Prak's leg... Orcrist bit through armor, boot and flesh alike and injured him... but like you the pain and blood just kept fuelling his fury.]

[His swings grew in ferocity, the picks scraping and carving more scratches onto the wall every time Thorin managed to get away... but gods preserve him if one of those strikes hit. They look like they could cause a troll an unbelievable amount of pain!]

Edited 2016-02-08 02:55 (UTC)

[ Curufin, armed and mail-clad, is leaning against a tree with his arms folded. He watches with a sardonic and critical half-smile. ]

If that was supposed to be an after-dinner speech, it failed miserably.

[The Uruk regarded Curufin with a dark curiousity, simply clicking its teeth at his direction.]

Hrrrrmmmm

[He tilts his head before giggling uncontrollably.]

[ Curufin shakes his head. What the hell has happened to the Soldiers of Darkness??-- the Orcs of the Third Age are a poor shadow of the Orcs of his day! ]

Well, hell.

[More of that incessant chitter chattering from his teeth and even more giggling. It really seemed like this creature was but a simple killer unlike its predecessors from long before.]

Hrrrmmmm.

[Prak growled lowly once more, glaring at the elf. There was nothing more to it right? Except... something in this Uruk's eyes. There was a cunning mind and unbridled cruelty behind those eyes. The sort of cruelty that would bring a man to death's door again and again across countless battles, to absolutely drive his opponent to the ground only to leave them alive for the next time.]

[Prak knew you were looking down at him Curufin... and your disdain simply amused him as he drew the wicked war picks from his back and spread his arms in open invitation. Strike him down if he was such a poor shadow.]

[ Curufin can see that something in the Uruk's eyes, but it isn't new to him. Five hundred years of war with Morgoth had sort of accustomed him to this sort of thing. A dark smile appears on his face. Maybe this is going to be interesting after all. ]

Oh, no. [ He bows mockingly, with a gentlemanly flourish. Ha ha, he is no gentleman. ] After you. I insist.

[Neither was Prak, but what would you expect? He's an Uruk. Curufin could almost see the toothy smirk from behind that blackened metal mask that Prak wore as he charged towards the elf, laughter ringing in the air as he swung both picks powerfully to strike at Curufin's side.]

Edited 2016-02-08 02:59 (UTC)

[ Curufin evades that strike with a swift back-step, letting the picks swing harmlessly past him -- albeit by just a hair. Pulling his sword as he steps outside that swing, he comes in again from the side with a ferocious cut aimed at the elbow joint of Prak's nearest striking arm. He means to take the forearm off. ]

Heh.

Edited 2016-02-11 08:52 (UTC)

[Elven agility strikes again! However Prak refuses to be such easy prey as he moves the arm. While he does take a rather nasty looking cut to the arm that's more than a little bloody, it was still staying where it was. Curufin would find himself replied to with the Uruk's insane giggling and a war pick seeking to hook onto the Elf's sword close to the hilt.]

HRrrrrrmmm.... _snrff.... Hrrrrrrrmmmmm

[ Homing in on the sniff between the insane little hummings. ] You really should carry a handkerchief, you know.

[ And Orc agility -- this one's, anyway! -- is not half-bad, either. Curufin feels a tug as the war pick hooks the sword. He doesn't react by trying to resist the pull of the pick's hook, but by whipping his wrists around in a parrying motion, flinging the sword upwards and hopefully thereby the pick itself, shoving it hard towards the Uruk. If Prak was already pulling, then the sudden shove in the same direction as the pull might possibly disentangle their weapons and allow Curufin to leap backwards. ]

Edited 2016-02-12 06:16 (UTC)

[Loud, imposing, and angry... not the first time Chopt's dealt with someone like this. First time he's been so... green though.]

You don't want to do this.

[The Blade of Mercy glints as she holds it in her right hand, combined at least at the moment. What the weapon lacked in size or strength compared to her preferred sword, it made up for in speed. Speed that had let her survive against threats far worse than this.]

[More tooth clicking. Beady blue eyes filled with cruelty... but not in a way belonging to an animal. It was the sort of gleam that drank in suffering like a connoisseur of wine, Prak savoured it with a refinement and clarity that was almost terrifying. The Uruk gives the blade a glance and chuckles at Chopt... before he hurls his war picks at her with sheer force that the metal was practically shrieking through the air-]

RWwwuuUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!

[Or perhaps it was just him.]

[The picks only cut through air, their mark juking left and only getting the feathers of her cloak ruffled. And whether Prak had spares or they would come back or had to run after them, she knew an opening when she saw it.

[With an audible clang of metal being pulled from metal, the Blade became two daggers. Another lunge forward and they plunged forward, Chopt's momentum sending them straight at Park's chest to test the waters of whoever... and whatever... this thing was.]

[Chopt would have the feeling of flesh and armor being dug into by metal ringing through her ears and echoing into her arms. Blood was shed and it was Prak's. There was a moment of silence. Then that low, sinister chuckling that rippled through the air as the Uruk regarded Chopt with malicious glee. This close she could almost see the evil grin that formed behind the brutal mask the Uruk wore.]

[Then his hand would slam onto Chopt's face to shove her away as hard as possible and- Oh look his picks were coming back in a whirlwind of pain.]

[Chopt staggered from the force of the strike, her mask cracking from the impact. This thing was strong, and if just taking a punch hurt this much, Chopt didn't want to taste those picks.

[But her hand found what she needed inside of her cloak, a bone she gripped tightly as the picks neared her. One moment and they were tearing the back of her cloak, but the next she was gone as if by teleporting.]

Too slow.

[-Or rather, having somehow slipped behind Prak without visibly doing so. Her other hand was raised, a slug-like creature wrapped around the wrist. And as if in response to its exposure, space between the two grew distorted, blurred... and then a slew of gigantic tentacles sprang out into the Uruk's backside.]

[Prak soon caught his weapons but it seems that he had other problems to deal with. Eldritch tentacles are perhaps one of the things Prak is probably unprepared for. The impact sends the Uruk flying a good distance before he slams into the ground.]

RAAARGH!

[He was already moving to get to his feet. Between the trick with the bone and the Augur of Ebrieatas he was clearly ready to shed a lot of blood.]

[And that was the opening she was waiting for.]

This is it!

[With Prak grounded, Chopt moved in for the kill. She let go of the blade in her right hand, the Siderite blade getting pulled magnetically to join its twin in her left. And with her right freed, she grabbed at his wounded back to wrench it open and finish the Uruk off!]

[Except there was a bit of a problem there Chopt... because as you moved in for the kill Prak turned with near supernatural speed and grabbed your hand as he let one of his picks fall. Oh he could feel the strength of the attempted strike and there was only the slightest of shaking as he kept your arm restrained but that probably would have torn him a new one.]

[The Uruk leaned close as he chuckled darkly, taking a deep breath before continuing the demented merriment... and headbutted Chopt hard as he let go of her arm.]

[Pitted against Chopt's frame, Prak's monstrous grip could've easily crushed her wrist if he'd wanted. And staring at the freakish monster who somehow countered a Visceral Attack, Chopt was halfways afraid he would. She was fortunately let off with merely another blow to the face.]

AH!

[Well that was it for her mask, the entire thing breaking off to expose the girl behind it. Nose dribbling blood, face bruised, and one eye swollen half-shut she fell to one knee and glared up at the laughing madman. Bloodlust was answered with cold resolve, and the girl sprang up, weaving left and then right with a spinning slash at the Uruk's arm.]

[The laughter was more frantic now as Prak simply let the slash land. Blood splattering the ground and the Blade of Mercy. That was a good attack Chopt, but Prak is about to show you how a real spinning slash is done. Twisting with your attack he snatches the pick he abandoned previously to counter your Visceral and does a full round house swing with both his weapons with enough force to knock a giant on its rear!]

[As soon as he makes for his second pick Chopt springs back. If he wanted to telegraph and over-comit to an attack like that? Fine! The picks would sing sickly through the air, but they would be drowned out as Chopt draws her handgun, aims, and fires right into Prak's face mid-turn.]

[The crack of the gun would echo through the air as the Uruk was forced backwards. Given the distortion of the metal it seems the bullet punched right into his mask. Possibly right into his mouth too. Even if the Quicksilver Bullets were meant more for stopping power than actual damage there was the likelihood that Chopt possibly might have-]

Pth..

[There was a rattling noise against the mask. Like a small solid object bounced against it-.... There was no possible way that he- HOW-!?]

[Prak tilted his head, the bullet continuing to rattle against his mask as he giggled at her. Both the clattering and laughing continuing well on their way as he rushed her once more with a flurry of slashes!]

[There was just no easy way of putting this monster under, was there? But as Prak charged he'd be met not with more tricks, but instead a two-sided blade, smacking aside one of his picks before blocking the other. A moment later and the Rakuyo's two components were separated, both moving to block and turn aside Prak's blows. Standing her ground, the Rakuyo's own strikes were more than just defense as they grew faster and more aggressive, culminating in both blades stabbing at Prak's chest before swinging up and down respectively to cut his front clean open!]

[The trade of blows between the two sent showers of sparks from every parry made from either side. While Prak had sheer strength behind his blows however, Chopt had far more speed on her side and was definitely no slouch in the strength department either. While Prak could ignore a few blows, the fact that they were beginning to pile up through his own attacks meant that his opponent was starting to get an upper hand!]

UUUURAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHH!!!!!

[That being said he attempts a massive overhead swing to get Chopt by both of her arms!]

[The picks once more forced her hand, Chopt's attack getting sidelined as she joined the Rakuyo's halves together once more. The blade rose up horizontally to block the picks, but Prak had size, strength, and weight on his side. Slowed but not stopped, they still swung down, biting into Chopt's shoulders.]

And that's enough of that.

[But no more. She'd needed to catch him mid-swing, and when you fought demons, beasts, and all things eldritch you need to be willing to put it all on the line. Even as pain coursed through her shoulders, skin, muscle, and blood being split by Prak... her left hand was raised again, the Auger reacting again.

[Want to see what floored you before? Well this was your chance!]

[Prak snarled and giggled madly as he attempted to bush the picks down even further... then he saw the Augur pointed right at his face. He simply looked up and gave Chopt another amused cackle before reality split open and the tentacles belonging to the Daughter of the Cosmost rushed forward and sent him flying with all the force of a cannonball.]

UURRRAAAAAAARGH!!

[His picks went flying as he rolled hard across the ground, that accursed bullet still rattling around behind his mask. Blood was flowing more freely now too, some of it from behind the jaws of black metal he strapped to his face. But Prak still lived, simply moving to rise... though after the beating he took he was slow to move. Chopt. If there was ever a time to try another visceral it would be now.]

Edited 2016-02-09 04:01 (UTC)

[And boy did she know that. A lunge forward brought Chopt face to face with the monster again, but there was no hesitation. She'd killed monsters far bigger than Prak with her bare hands, and this time there wouldn't be any surprise counters. She drove her hand into one of Prak's open wounds, unfazed by the Uruk's innards before grabbing a handful of something. And as she swung a leg up and smashed it into that mask for leverage-]

Huaaaaaagh!

[She wrenched it free, not caring how much of a mess or how large a wound this would leave. Far from it; she wanted this thing dead.]

[When Chopt's hand rammed free, Prak simply raised his head to look at the Hunter in the eyes. With what was possibly his last breaths he began to laugh, weakly at first but it soon gained strength enough that it would haunt even the dreams of the dead before it terminated in a loud howling scream as blood arced through the air and rained upon the dust soaked earth.]

[Between the boot to the Mask and the attack itself, the body of Prak slammed into the ground with a mighty crash and clatter. Enough to kick up clouds of dirt from the impact. No movement...No laughter...]

-NIGHTMARE SLAIN-

OI! What the hell are you? [Maria peers up at this grotesque looking-- beast, who resembles absolutely nothing in the damned Monster Book of Monsters, that she had actually read for fun rather than for scholarly purposes!]

[Prak simply chuckles in response, spreading his arms as if to say 'Use your eyes'. His head shaking in an almost pitying manner. Clearly the Uruk thought very little of the witch.]

Grhaaagh!

[He lunged and gnashed his teeth behind his mask. He made no other action though. Simply stopping not too far from Maria and continuing that thrice damned infernal chuckling.]

OI! [She snarls out, as she takes several mincing steps back away from this-- thing, and draws her wand, using a silently-cast Collabricru in order to bow his legs beneath him, to keep him from advancing any further; with any luck, he was enough of a great hulking beast that he wouldn't be able to get back up to his feet, and thus: would stay crawling along the ground...]

[Oh. He dropped to the ground alright... but he didn't exactly take very kindly to it. A low rumble made its way from behind the mask and it slowly grew in volume and rage...]

uuuUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!!!!

[Prak was many things and indeed a hulking creature was one of them but to simply just regard him as a simple beast was a mistake. He was a monster; one with a twisted and horrifying will behind it. And he was forcing himself to stand despite the sheer force the charm was putting on him to stay down.]

Edited 2016-02-07 17:02 (UTC)

OI! [She gasps out, now that she realises this beast-- this monster-- is really recovering far too quickly from having his weight thrown down upon his knee.

[And so she desperately tries to think of a new spell to use upon this bloody Monster, which will actually work upon his clearly armoured body, and not simply bounce back upon her-- such as a Stunner; yes, a Stunner was definitely out of the question, here... Anything that manifested as a beam of light probably was, in fact. Except maybe-- Sectumsempra, of course! And she knew the counter-curse to that, too, so: whatever happened, she wouldn't actually kill him-- unless of course, he kept fighting even when virtually completely exsanguinated...

[She decided to risk the possibility, given that he was almost back upon his feet now.] SECTUMSEMPRA!

[And a white light flashed across the small space between them, and (hopefully) cut deep into his seemingly-dominant arm.]

[The spell landed and the Uruk's blood rained freely on the ground. Except that Prak just refused to stop. There was a cold and terrifying anger in Prak's eyes as the screaming gave way to insane giggling. Maria did a good job of making sure that he couldn't use one arm with how deep that cut went... but the problem was that she still left his other one undamaged.]

[Every slow trudge he made towards her, that chuckling continued unabated as Prak used his unhurt arm to draw one of his war picks.]

[She gulped hard, as she saw that "war pick", and made a dodge for her right, as she raised her wand again, to attempt the spell once more:]

SECTUMSEMPRA! [She cries again, imagining the bloody spell lopping off his damned hand from the wrist, and thus: disabling him completely.

[But there again: perhaps that was not a wise move, really, especially considering where the hand with the "pick" inside it would drop when she severed it: on her own shoulder, to judge by the current trajectories of the momentum behind both of their moves.]

[It would have been a worry if the spell landed Maria, but some tricks only work once. Prak did not know what to expect from you until you cast that first cutting curse. Now though? He turns, moving away from the curse before going into a sidelong to ram you as hard as possible with his useless, bleeding arm with a downright feral scream.]

RAAAAAARRGH!

[Oh dear! She really was SO screwed, wasn't she? She really oughtn't have picked a fight with such a large beast, almost three and a half feet over her own head, and probably over 60 STONE bigger, too!

[She screams out as he rams into her, most certainly breaking some bones, if not her entire body, and falls backwards, landing exceptionally hard on the ground behind her.]

OI! SECTUMSEMPRA! [She tries again, but really, given how badly her left arm is no doubt damaged by the Monster's last manoeuvre, it was unlikely that she was able to actually aim with her wand, and so she could only hope that the damned curse didn't work to mutilate her own body...]

[Now now. No more cutting curses. Prak has had just about enough of your fancy spell flinging for the day, the arm that isn't working right now can attest to that. Prak let the spell strike his armor and the sound of metal shrieking as the magic split it was most unpleasant.]

[He was unconcerned though as he sheathed the pick he carried and simply chose to grab at Maria's wand hand and applied pressure. It was more to snap her wand than to actually break her hand, but Uruks aren't known for their delicacy.]

[Of course, there ware so many different ways she could answer that bloody hand approaching her own-- including "Sectumsempra", of course, but-- well. She doesn't actually want the bloody beast to lose a hand, at least not permanently. So instead, she silently casts another, less severe cutting curse: Diffendo. Maybe if she can lop off a few of his fingers, he'll reconsider trying to attack her, and just run off to nurse his injuries...

[She really ought to be so lucky, oughtn't she?]

[While most other beings probably would, the issue here was that she assumed that Prak operated on the level of a reasonable creature. Prak? Not so much as he put that hand in a vice grip and looked Maria in the eyes. That hand was getting pretty bloody Maria. Even if its not yours its probably not all that comforting given it looks as black as sin.]

[He chuckled darkly. Tilting his head in amusement as that grating, sinister tittering continued even as he continued to leave his blood all over the place - some of it even making a mess of Maria's robes.]

Hrrrrrrrmmmm...

[More chuckling came after the growl, low intakes of breath following each moment before he simply released Maria and took two steps back. Mockingly he raised one arm, his injured one struggling to mimic the motion of his twin in a gesture that all but screamed 'I've beaten you. What are you even going to do about it?'... and then he simply walked away.]

Because this Mun just couldn't help themselves | Canon: LoTR: Shadow of Mordor

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