sweating bullets | TAKEOVER

[arcy]

If Izuku said that he didn't get any pleasure out of seeing Stryker like this, he'd be a damn liar. The stench of burnt skin and fur doesn't fill him with the same horror it usually did. He just feels ... smug, maybe. There's a cruel grin growing on the dragon's maw, because it's what he deserves. It's all he can focus on, really. By nature, Izuku wasn't one to seek revenge, but so he'd changed. What a fucking crime. If only All Might could see him now. .. A slight shame that the serval was elsewhere right now. Izuku didn't blame him -- he was actually a little glad that the other was so uninvolved. He didn't need a fucking hero. He'd be the hero, even if it was a fucked up one. Because that's what they needed, right? No justice, what these Pitt fuckers needed was to burn.
.. So. He's distracted. The dragon blinks, feeling non-threatened at the lion's attack. Weak. He's weak.  And sure, he flinches a little at the sting, but he doesn't care. Until he has to. The dragon lets out a soft, angered screech as he's kicked away and he's floundering, and it's disgusting. There's no longer any lightning coating protecting him from attacks and all of a sudden he feels vulnerable. He wasn't a strategic fighter. He never had been. All of those analysis books gone to the wind and all he focused on was instincts. It was worse these days -- he'd tried to work himself out of the habit, once, but it clearly hadn't worked.
"Fucker," Izuku hisses because he's burning. Feels like he is. A little, bitty part of him thinks he should lay off, don't hurt the lion more than he really really has to. But. But. It's what he deserves, doesn't it? He might be crying, a little, tears burning in the corner of his eyes because his clanmates are being hurt and they don't deserve it. He'd take the brunt of it all himself if he could but he can't and all that manifests itself as now is rage. Hah. Maybe Ka -- Bakugou. Maybe Bakugou had rubbed off on him. Izuku's breathing is unsteady and he wants to hurt this fucking lion, but. No. No. Wouldn't be .. right. Would it? It would. But. "You really do think you're better than us, huh?" His grin is twisting all over again and his voice is shaking. It makes for a very strange picture, one where it's pretty clear that Izuku is cracking. "But you're not. Really, you oughta be the scum of the fucking earth now, huh?" He doesn't know what he's saying. Do his words make sense? His head is spinning and everything is red and burning and he's not sure if his clanmates are really screaming or not. Shouting. He knows some of them are shouting, at least. He takes a deep breath. He can't breathe right and there's no more electricity anymore. Regardless, though, the dragon lumbers over and attempts to stab his talons into Stryker's burns. The less injured burns. The ones Stryker could probably feel at all. Aggravate it. Make him hurt. .. Whether or not he manages it or not, the dragon shouldn't be too hard to take down at this point, should Stryker manage the strength to get up at all. It's clear that the adrenaline and rage has gotten to him in a pretty bad way, after all.
//late reply but my motivation has been Fucked lol
god this boy is fucked up in fight scenes

[glow=black,2,300]I WONT BE HERE LONG AT ALL ☀[/glow]

[Luciferr]

I ADMIRE IT'S PURITY

/what injuries is he allowed to inflict at all if so? :0 [member=1787]WENDELL[/member]

Blacktide hissed at the small creature attempting to headbutt him - foolish really, the smooth carapiece hid anything that might hurt its 'senses' - instead the juvenile panther-like monstrosity would attempt to apply pressure to the struggling creature - it wanted the prey breathless! he was hungry!

© MADI

[ninazu]

Her head dropped slightly as a her head felt as though something smacked the top of her cranium; she felt the beginnings of a migraine, and lifted a paw to rub one of her horns. She never used her electricity much for this exact reason, though she noticed, through squinted eyes, that she managed to slow the fleeing member down enough for Tide to get at the wolverine. The left side of her face began to pulse with pain, though, and she silently cursed herself for pulling out her best hat-trick at the beginning of the battle - now she'd need to continue fighting with this migraine slowly getting worse.

Pulling out a raspberry leaf from her bag, the druidic erudite chewed on it slowly; every movement of her jaw caused the agony in her face and brain to increase, but she knew better than to let her migraine worsen. She also supposed she should cancel the magic keeping the three balls of fire orbiting her, but she didn't want to expose herself to the cold and any Snowbounder that developed enough brain cells to attack her. With her small body and healing focus, she sucked at short-range combat; supplying cover fire and spotting weak points in the enemy's defenses was her forte, not brute force.

Limbs quivering with the aftermath of her lightning attack, she warily watched the fights to make sure the Pittians have everything covered. The moment her strength returned and someone got in trouble with an opponent, she'd ready another blast of lightning - or fire, at this point, she thought that seemed more feasible.

© LEXASPERATED

[GRIMNYTE]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 540px; min-height: 9px; font-family:arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:GAINSBORO; padding: 20px"]Well. He was late.

Dreadfully, it seemed ― far from fashionable. Members of both groups were scrambling for either the opposite side or to flee from the scene entirely. Blood was everywhere. As soon as he walked in, he'd stepped in a puddle of it, just to lift up his soaked right paw with a look of distaste. Violence. He had little need for it. It certainly was not how you got a weaker group to cooperate. From what he learned, it was much more profitable to feign mercy and convince them that you were trustworthy. If they trusted you, it was much easier to betray them later. Esklav wasn't surprised it had come to this - his colleagues were daft and had morals, despite their reputation saying very differently, and that caused them to be slow and imperfect. Flawed.

The warpriest had hoped that he would be able to collect some Snowbounders for his experiments, but alas; the universe had different plans, and he would have to make do with the injured little heathens remaining.

"Blacktide." what was his child doing here, among this rubbish? It was true that he could not repress his violent tendencies (as Esklav learned was typical of his species) but he was still not yet matured. If he were to die ... Esklav would be ... disappointed. Very disappointed. "I would most appreciate it if you removed yourself entirely from this unfortunate situation. You are but a tyke, and ill suited for the turmoil of war." his voice was gentle. Soothing. Tentatively Esklav reached out, aiming to place his paw on the feral beast's bony shoulder, mimicking the chittery noise he had made when they had first crossed paths.

To Wendell, he'd give his signature lifeless smile. [color=SLATEGRAY]"My apologies, sire."

[Luciferr]

I ADMIRE IT'S PURITY

a familiar voice called its attention - and the black beast of horrific beauty turned from the struggling prey to pale-mother, small carapiece laden ears twitching forwards over a smooth eyeless face and a delighted chirrup at the recognised and well beloved feline.

though those ears folded side-ward slightly at what it recognised as chastisement - and if it could it might've pouted, for here was bountiful prey to tear into and devour, or take back for pale-mother - alas pale-mother had spoken and so the alien spun creature hissed once at the prey and then moved away to follow pale-mothers directives.

© MADI