[FIN] Brains or Brawn? [Mort & Taryn]

[medigel]

As much as Taryn's explanation about being leader made sense, Mort couldn't just not challenge it. After his abysmal performances up until now, he just wanted a chance to prove himself - and if it took a fight to do so, well, he would do so. The gym wasn't far, and Mort wasn't in his stupor anymore; he shuffled inside and began stretching.

"Will go until one concede or faint," he said, turning to her with his Game Face on. "Know are no bad feelings. Just n-need see who battle capabilities has more. Leader must be leading, fighting. Loser is vice prez then?"  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn was a little upset with how Mort was suddenly addressing her. It was all business. She almost wanted to throw her hands up and let him have it... but that probably wouldn't be best for the team, would it? A good spar would decide who was physically more ready to lead a team.

"Mort... no winning, no losing. Who ever is stronger, right here right now, gets the right to be leader. Don't make this too serious," she sighed. Maybe this had been a bad idea. "You're my friend. This is a friendly spar." She had the feeling it would come to fainting, though.

She cracked her neck and blew a little plume of smoke, gesturing for Mort to begin.
 

[medigel]

"'Course is friendly. Just is over serious business." Well, serious to him. This was the person who was going to be leading their group, supposedly to victory. These were trials created for Horsemen as a rite of passage - and in a way, Mort viewed them as such for himself too.

Maybe he was taking this a bit too serious, but the zomboil was tired of always finishing last.

Once he felt ready, electricity began to build in one of his hands. Strafing to the left, he shot a few small bolts at the chimera.

HP: 40
Damage: 2  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn started slightly when the bolts met flesh. Kind of an ow, not too terrible. Would it really be a meaningful battle if they only threw small punches at each other? A few flames licks across her tongue, but she chose to keep that back for now. She turned and Abigail whipped Mort, unsure why and clearly not viciously. It didn't seem that the tail understood why they were battling.

Yes, it was important. Taryn very desperately wanted to be the leader, to be able to call a victory her team's. Her team. She had taken all the classes, done all the work, and she still had never truly led anyone. She wanted to. She needed to.

HP: 38
Damage: 3
 

[medigel]

Apparently Abigail's whip made him disapprove, not because it was a bad move, but because the weight behind it was uncertain. The zomboil frowned, too slow to move away, but fast enough to grasp the snake before she could get away. "Need be serious. Need be ready fight, ready defend," Mort told Taryn, eyes glowing briefly before a surge of electricity went through his body and course straight through to hers - poor Abigail was the conductor.

What Mort was asking for was an a**-whooping apparently, even though he had stated and agreed to the fight being friendly.

HP: 37
Damage: 9  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn ghoul shrieked once, and then reacted solely out of shock and kicked Mort in the leg. She thought they'd agreed to be friendly! She never would have thought he'd hurt her like that! Abigail, stunned as the shock had gone straight to her brain, hung limp.

HP: 29
Damage: 1
 

[medigel]

The shock itself made him twitch severely, and he backed away in a jerky manner, catching the end of her kick in his escape. Technically speaking, this would have been a good time to attack again.

But she'd screamed. Screamed. That had shocked him in a different way.

And he realized belatedly that the prior action had not been the most . . . friendly. What sort of leader would that have been? And come to think of it, had Taryn had much battle practice before? He hadn't thought to ask . . . He had just assumed, seeing her prowess during the Christmastival, hearing her agreement to fight it out . . .

Well you know what they say about assuming.

"Mrrr . . ." Mort clutched at the arm he'd used to shock her, a guilty expression crossing his face. He took a ready stance with his feet, but did not strike again, instead watching her.

HP: 36
Damage: No action  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn's brows were knotted in anger, and her eyes narrowed, almost trembling as she glared at Mort. That had not been friendly, that had not been nice, and most worrying of all, that had not been the Mort she knew. Her chest heaving, she was simply standing, hurt, considering if she should attack him back for that.

Revenge was petty. This had all gone wrong.

HP: 29
Damage: No action
 

[medigel]

He swallowed hard, trying to think while his brain was still in the middle of recovery. Attack? Defend? Talk? Talk. Ghouls talked things out, he knew from firsthand experience with Mama. Talking was a Free Action in his D&H games. But he would have to do it slowly as his stuttering would be even more terrible after an overload like that.

It was also rather hard to find the words to talk with Taryn glaring at him. He'd never been good with having people angry at him, let alone talking to angry people - however justifiable the anger was.

"D-D . . . didn't m-mean . . ." He huffed a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the ends standing up as if from static electricity. "Was . . . I-Is not fair . . . t'you . . ."

Jack, this was bad. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Was . . . Was thinking'--t-t-too--many--things," he tried again, forcing the words out robotically before they could get mangled. "N-Not--dealing--with--you. With m-me. But--is--not--fair." He let go of his arm and straightened, all but opening himself to attack. "Will--b-be--better--now?"

HP: 36
Damage: No action  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn offered no words, she simply looked Mort up and down. He was opening himself to attack, fine. Should she? Should she tell him to go frack himself and she'd find a new group? Her fingers curled into fists.

"We're teammates, not enemies," the ghoul asserted, "This is a spar, not a battle. If you do that again, you can have your group. I would never work under someone so willing to hurt others, given a moment." She looked to zombie over, looked to the side... and then raised a fist and socked him across the jaw.

Revenge was petty, but she had to show Mort that she wasn't helpless.

HP: 29
Damage: 3
 

[medigel]

Her words stung, moreso than the punch. Mostly because they were right: that's how it always went. While the punch itself might not have been weighty, the jaw was a more sensitive place than most, even for a zombie. Mort rubbed the area with a wince, cheek twitching painfully. "Sorry," he mumbled. "W-Was not thinking." His other hand clenched, trying to collect some energy, but apparently between the last overload and the cowing aura of an angry chimera, he couldn't manage to create some.

HP: 33
Damage: Null  

[bobaTJ]

Taryn strafed to the side, not knowing that Mort wouldn't be able to muster any charge. That... was probably her fault. It was rare that she truly got angry, but something in the boil had brought it out of her. She took a bracing step, pulling her arms back and letting a plume of fire roll out of her mouth and up, toward the zomboil. She knew fire frightened him, and if she had any other battle-worthy ability she would likely have used it, but that was it.

HP: 29
Damage: 6
 

[medigel]

Sweet Sally's sewn tits.

Hell hath no fury like a ghoul scorned. Especially one with fire breathing powers.

Sure, Mort didn't actually catch fire (as he still had a layer of FEAR to protect him), but to feel those plumes of flame against him was a horrible experience of pain. If there was any sure-er way to make sure Mort got the message, this was it.

He merely cowered, arms across his face, every once in a while twitching. Had he had a working heart, it would have been racing. It was only practice in stance holding that made sure he didn't fall over, though it was damn close to happening.

HP: 27
Damage: LOLNOFIRE  

[bobaTJ]

While she was at it, Taryn shut off the plume and raised a hand, blowing further flame into her palm. It gathered in a flaming sphere, a great display of her abnormal Fear. She had this, if nothing else, above her family. None of them could do this. It was a neat parlor trick, and now, being a Knob?

It did damage.

She heaved the ball at Mort with a little noise of exertion.

HP: 29
Damage: 17
 

[medigel]

Did you expect Mort to tough up against the fire and retaliate with his own FEAR in a display of energy type versus energy type

LOLNO. This time he was blown off his feet from the resulting explosion several feet away, clearly looking more singed than before. He was trembling now, still covering his face with his arms like they did any better at defending himself.

HP: 10
Damage: FEAR FAIL, WTG