[BATTLE] FELIKS VS 232

[lou]

ROUND 1
FELIKS VS. 232
BATTLE COMMENCE

[maximum8]

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Inhaling the sea air deep in to his lungs, Feliks felt more alive than ever. The water’s churned around the Kelpie as she cut through the waves, cutting through ally and foe alike. She was small, she was swift, and she required only a few men to man her. It was why Feliks had chosen her as his vessel, as opposed to the bulbous and unsubtle war boats so close to him. His swept through them, daring to risk anything. The cold, empty looking ship so built for these moments.

” Puddle, I think we’re close enough. How about we give the rest of the pirates a bit of a helping hand, at least out here?” His words were calm, lone emerald eye turning to the Milotic coiled on the deck by his side, peering out toward the fighting. Puddle nodded his head, the water type getting the message rather quickly. As the ship finally approached land, he reared up to his full height and began to sway, back and forth, back and forth. The already cloudy skies above their head began to darken, and soon rain began to pelt the surface of the sea and land alike, and Feliks didn’t hesitate a second before hopping on to the serpents back. The Milotic slid easily from the port side of the boat, his lengthy body allowing him to slip to the water and on to land with no effort.

Once on the beach, it was easy for Feliks to slip off the outer jacket he worn simply to help with the water. He wouldn’t need it once inside. A hand dropped to his hip, pulling the gun loose from its holster. He didn’t need to get surprised again. Not without being able to take a shot at them first. He could still remember Cinnabar, although it was hard not to, the final image of that Steelix falling to the lava, teeth broken and taking a chunk of Lake down with him. It haunted his thoughts. Every time he saw what remained of the Feraligatr’s tail he remembered what he’d done that day.

” Be ready Puddle, don’t hesitate,” He spoke low, before bringing out another pokeball from his belt. This one released an impressive creature, prehistoric in looks. Gulf tilted his head to one side, shooting nothing more than a sidelong glance at his trainer before stepping to stand beside the other Pokemon. Fighting on the beaches suited Feliks fine. Any fleeing Nox wouldn’t make it far. They’d be trapped in the caves if he got much of a say in the matter. At a nod from the red head, Gulf brought both of his hands inward, slamming against the shell armour on his chest. As it fell away in chunks, the Carracosta brushed it away, a renewed vigour in his older gaze. A Shell Smash would help him keep up with this younger fighter’s, no doubt.

Notes: Holy shit this was terrible. Puddle used Rain Dance, before standing on the beach with Feliks and a partially shell-less Gulf, whose improved his speed and attack strength with Shell Smash. I hope this was okay Sorbs <3[/style]

[damian]

[atrb=valign, top] ❝ THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HARMLESS TRUTH ❞ 232 hated being alone. He wasn’t very good at it, really. Thing was, he hadn’t come alone. He and his partner would’ve taken advantage of the chaos and maybe even would have been trying to get out of this place by now, but uh … they got separated. Oops? It wasn't that he was completely useless on his own, or that he was scared for her, or anything like that. He'd been doing just fine, had even managed to loot a small memento from a lone lux agent who hadn't seen it coming. As long as no one else came by, the guy would wake up with a nasty bump on his head. No harm, no foul. Unfortunately, what he'd been able to snatch worked best as a token, not any big haul. It wouldn't be worth the trip, and it wasn't was Rocket was after. It wasn't going to get 232 the recognition he wanted, needed. That had to be deeper in, and it'd turned out that a different entrance than had been originally planned was on the agenda. He still hadn't seen his partner, but he knew she could hold her own. He, on the other hand, was racing across the sands. He was out in the open, prone, and it left his heart hammering against his ribs. And to think; getting in was supposed to be the easy part. It would be getting out that ... 232's fears were realized when a Milotic beached, and really, just maybe, he should have kept running. It was difficult enough to race across sand, what with the way that it would swallow the impact as his feet pounded through, sank, nearly caused him to trip over himself. But then the guy pulled out a gun. Always with the Luxies and their guns. It occurred to him that the guy might not have seen him yet, but by the time the second pokemon was called out 232 was certain that he could choose between standing and weaseling out of the situation or getting shot in the back. This particular Rocket wasn't really interested in getting shot, thank you very much. He had a very pretty face, not that this stranger could see. It was an admittedly odd choice in mask. Actually, his partner had dared him into it. She would probably argue that it was only complete with the set, but it was still recognizable enough. It was actually mirroring the cartoon character Dim, the rather derpy Zebstrika that served as a sidekick to Invader Zib. He was painstakingly aware of the possibility of more Lux soldiers coming to this man's aid. He had to think fast, and well, if we was going to get out of this, keep going. There was something about 232 and ideas, though. And while this particular Lux couldn't see the Rocket grunt cringe through his mask, his demeanor said enough. His hands raised some as he turned to face the stranger in almost a placating gesture, but he was taking a step back - not as if to retreat, but as if to allow the other man feel more sure of himself, his superiority. As he moved, however, his wristband chafed against his sleeve and gave the smallest series of 'pops,' two pokeballs dislodging and tumbling out of his sleeve and toward the sands. 232 made a show of trying to catch them, fumbling after them, and failing. As Babiri and Magost unfurled from their pokeballs their trainer's hands found the air again in yet another gesture meant to pacify, perhaps even come off as a yield. It was definitely intended as a 'hey, don't shoot.' While Magost stepped back and moved behind the Rocket rather than to defend him, Babiri curled within himself against the rough sands, beginning to melt with an Acid Armor. Not exactly the movements of fighters by any means. MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:300px, btable] ❝ tagged ❞ max as feliks <3 ❝ notes ❞ I promise I'm taking this seriously. But uh yeah, Feliks is basically fighting the equivalent of a guy in a Gir mask. - BABIRI THE MUK (Acid Armor) MAGOST THE HYPNO [/style][STYLE= color: #596C56; font-size: 80px; margin-top: -43px; margin-left: -09px;]◤

[lou]

VICTOR: 232

+ 100 to Nox