Full Metal Alchemist: Sorceror Swift vs Rumble Man RPG

Maxford sat cross-legged, suspended in mid-air, the astral plane surrounding him for eternity in all directions. In a breeze that didn't exist, his hair flowed slightly, and his eyes moved behind closed lids. Slowly, he became aware of another presence. He created the gestures for the plasma bolt and brought the incantation to the tip of his tongue, then snapped his eyes open, half-pronounced the word of power, then dispersed the energy. "Master." He bowed his head in reverence.

"My son." The voice was not the dry whisper of the dead, but a voice full of life and laughter. With a snap of his fingers, the elderly man created a pair of cups and a pot of tea to appear between himself and his orange-haired student. "I have a job for you." He continued, pouring out the tea. He stroked the white wisps of his beard, then handed Max his tea. "The humans defile our most sacred of rites. They have created technology that has, for want of a better word, a soul." Max choked on his tea, spluttering for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"An automaton with a soul, master? Such a thing is sacrilege!" The older conjuror nodded for a moment, then placed the empty cup in the air between them. It hung there, orbiting the teapot. "You wish me to destroy it?" He asked, flexing his fingers. His knuckles made a cracking sound. He created a few simple gestures with his hands and spoke a single syllable. A glowing trail, lit in all 8 colours of the spectrum, shot into the distance, and from the astral plane, made it's way on the planet called Earth. "A simple dowsing spell." He said, by way of answer, looking past his master at the children in their white robes. He switched his glance to his master. "A bigger class than I expected." His master shrugged. "They are to observe?" His master nodded, then gestured, longer, faster and with far greater complexity than Max had, and threw a handful of dust, surrounding the children with a large sphere that rippled in eight colours.

"Extract the soul, if you can. Then bring it to me. Should the machine present a problem, destroy it." Max stood, and walked away, the sphere following him, safely shielding the children from becoming casualties. The prismatic sphere was an incredibly powerful incantation, constructed of eight different spheres to shield the protected individual(s) from almost any kind of attack. Max could use it as a weapon, and the children would not feel a thing. He wondered why his master had tasked him with the class, but dared not question it. The glowing trail would lead him to his target.

Earth

Max dropped through the portal, ensured the sphere was still with him, and closed the doorway to the astral plane. Before him he saw the sacrilegious thing in question. "Ho there!" He called, stretching his arms and flexing his fingers, The dowsing spell invisibly marked the being before him as the one he sought. "Automation!" His voice left no doubt, no reason for anyone to question him. "I am Maxford Swift, Sorceror of the Eighth Grade, Deputy High Master of the Occult Institution, Guardian of the Dungeon Dimensions, and I say unto thee, thou shalt accompany me to the Institution where thy stolen spirit may be set free into the astral plane! Ye shall come to no harm, as long as ye doth not fight me."

Fowler was just exiting Redemption park as he got out into the road after resuscitating that lone knight, now as he is about to head towards Tritonia by foot a gateway opens before him. "Under what right do you have to talk to me, I am at a public location here so kindly leave unless you want to end up as a costume" The bioborg calmly extends both arms to grab one bus each and proceeds to throw it casually towards the personal space invader. Maybe after a few broken things the man will wise up and calmly comunicate in a civilized manner. The bioborg thinks to himself, Wow this guy talks a lot of smack, maybe I should punch him a bit so he can slow down a little. That way I can understand him better .

- Fowler -

"Observe, children." Max remarked quietly, before his hands blurred through a series of gestures and he droned out a long incantation. Of all the spells he could have performed, he went for one of the most difficult. From his meditation on the astral plane, he had a large reserve of mana, so did not need to gather any. The bus passed into the large cloud of smoke that had sprung up around the sorceror, and bounced off of the prismatic sphere, going through a nearby wall. The orange-haired sorceror dropped back into the same dimension as the aggressor twenty feet away from where he had been.

"By the Seven Moons of Nasreem, machine, thou hast surely reaped the mighty whirlwind. Now die!" His hands blurred again, the gleam of anti-light powerful in his hands, spread wide as they were. He pulled them together, spoke an incantation, and fired the ball of octarine light at the machine. The plasma bolt seared the very air as it shot towards his target, and lightning bolts jumped from it's surface, sparks crackling obscenely upon the entire surface of anything it touched. "Now yield. I may yet be merciful!" He had to shout to make himself heard over the crackling sound of the plasma bolt.

@Sorceror_Swift:

He's dodged exotic supersonic projectiles and solid light beams before, so plasma shots are not that hard in comparison. Experience helps him along in combat situations, this time he simply tapped his feet into the ground to raise a sizeable boulder slightly bigger than his fifteen foot frame. Using the other available foot the bioborg kicked it while imitating Beckham to see what happens when magic energy collides with mundane matter. While the two objects are inevitably about to collide the bioborg repeated step one to grab more vehicles to throw at the orange haired lunatic, so far there is a gasoline tank so that will do.

The plasma bolt collided with the large boulder in midair and exploded, sending millions of white hot fragments no larger than pebbles in all directions. Those that struck the prismatic sphere simply bounced off. Those that flew at the orange-haired sorceror were deflected by a shield of invisible force. He saw the tank before the automaton had even thrown it. He watched the being pull it's arm back, and toss the object towards him. A smirk lit up his face, and his fingers danced in the air. "Fireball." He said, tossing a ball of flame at the incoming object. He watched as it burned through the casing of the gas tank, his hands already moving again as the canister blew up.

A flower of orange flames lit up where the man had been standing. It was silent for a moment, then a thunderous THWOOM! enveloped everything, the very force of the explosion stripping all the leaves off of a nearby tree, which were then incinerated by the fire. As the flames cleared, a few strands of singed orange hair fell to the ground. There was nothing else to see. From a shadow a ways behind the explosion, there was a whisper of movement and a sound of muttering. Suddenly a bright blue light filled the shadow, casting illumination over Max's face. His clothes were in tatters, however he didn't appear to have taken a whole lot of damage, apart from a dark spot on his head where he had been burned. The bright blue lightning bolt streaked across the distance that separated him from his target at high speeds.

@Sorceror_Swift:

The bioborg deducted that the man might need his larynx in order to perform spell rituals so he decided to do something fun, assuming that the spellcaster needs his mouth to pronounce those words of power the bioborg 'prepares' his sonic modules to distort his opponent's orders. The move is not yet done but the preparations are under way. He took on the bold dead on as it serves to charge the machine, and in a certain sense it helps him assess the opponent's capabilities based on his techniques. The electric phenomenon that he felt was below Kratesis's trion lightning, and given the fact that he does have electric resistance he can literally shrug this off. Somebody else back at the Paradise base shot a black arc of lightning infused with dark necrotic energies, however this one felt different. Almost soothing, he admits that the weird multispectrum ball would have done damage but this electric feel is somewhat good. Almost addictive, he wants more...

The lightning bolt struck it's target straight on, and seemed to have no effect. "Automaton, you are becoming irksome." He stated, slightly annoyed. His fingers danced through the air, silver snakes twisting around his hands as he summoned a mighty incantation, a hex of his own creation. His eyes flashed through all the colours of the spectrum, stopping when they were black as oblivion, flecked with white, much like the night sky. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he spoke. "I summon the...Eye of Eternity..." A film of sweat covered his forehead, but he finished the final gesture and pointed his hands at the sky.

An interdimensional portal tore open less than fifty feet above the combatants, and Max returned to normal very quickly, dropping to his knees and swaying slightly as if he was going to pass out. His vision swum, blurred by the expenditure of mana. Slowly he dragged himself towards the grass of the park, and fell into it, eight-hued smoke flowing from each blade of grass into the sorceror, the plants growing black and withered as their life-force was drained.

Meanwhile, a host of unearthly creatures dropped from the tear, landing on the ground. Max was shocked. Very rarely did his spells go wrong, but then again, he had never attempted a spell of this magnitude. The creatures charged at the automaton, drawn to him somehow. Possibly the dowsing charm that still marked him. One of the creatures toyed with the prismatic sphere, only to touch it, then be deconstructed molecule by molecule. The monsters split into two groups. One charged the machine, and the other came to battle Max. He slowly became aware of what they were. "Damn." He muttered, then summoned his sword. These denizens of the Dungeon Dimensions fed on magic and it made them stronger. Attempting to battle them with magic was foolish.

@Sorceror_Swift:

He disregarded the comments made by the personal space invader, focusing on strategy as it seems that the opponent needs to 'prepare' his spells before launching them. The bioborg decides that this would be that perfect opportunity to strike down the invader, Fowler counted the time needed to finish a spell so that he can take that variable into account. So far there are fast spells and slow spells, most of the offensive ones revolve around energy. But some other spells are more wasteful as they are fueled by life-force as the poor plants faded away for a limited use attack.

"Hmm, this scenario reminded me of that time I fought that demon in Redemption park where he summoned those tiny imps" Rapidly the auton smashed a nearby car in half and put halves of a car on each fist for makeshift car boxing gloves. Apparently these beasts are animalistic that they flail their hands in uncoordinated fashion, which in a certain way makes them predictable. He knows that the other guy is currently fatigued from the spell and thus the bioborg used this moment to close the distance with the monster. Ducking and dodging before he lands a left uppercut that is done to decapitate the beast. Whatever trick it has the car will serve as a buffer before it reaches back.

Max rolled back and gained his feet, dodging the claws of the nearest denizen of the Dungeon Dimension. He took one step, shifting his balance, and began swinging the silvery blade low. As his foot touched the ground for his second step, he brought the sword through the monster's kneecaps, the long blade dismembering the beast's legs both at once. He swung back, the razor-edge of his sword slicing one arm and the head of the humanoid being away from the rest of it's corpse. His hands danced on the sword hilt, and he became a blur of black robes and orange hair, darting between the Dungeon Demons, slaughtering or disabling them with incredible accuracy. Still more dropped from the sky. The blade melted away, and Max stared at the automaton as he took on one Dungeon Demon. The rift temporarily forgotten, rage lit a fire in Max's eyes.

He watched as the Dungeon Demon was decapitated by a strike, and he performed the gestures necessary to tap the magical weave in the manner he wanted. Not once, not twice, but thrice, his hands stroked the air. He spoke a single phrase, and a magical aura surrounded him. His strength, speed and durability had been amplified, and he still had mana to spare. Almost all the Dungeon Demons turned to him and charged, the nearest swinging a claw-tipped arm at the sorceror. Only he wasn't there when it arrived. The space where he had been seemed to empty, as if by magic. The Demon saw the booted foot land on it's outstretched arm, and looked up a second too late. The foot tore off most of the top of the Demon's head, then the magic-user leaped, landing just before the robot. "I will emerge victorious from this struggle." His voice had a resonant quality to it, no doubt from the magical field distorting and amplifying his words, but it was calm, smooth and precise. What he had said was not arrogance, nor was it a statement, it was simply a forecast of how the future would be.

The mage tore forward, aiming a fist for the robot's chest, the magical aura surrounding him giving off incredible heat. Hidden by the aura, space and time were beginning to warp, and the fabric of reality began to groan under the concentration of magical energy. If the expenditure of magic in the immediate vicinity was not slowed, or some step was taken to lower the stress on the space-time continuum, all of reality might well crash in on itself.

@Sorceror_Swift:

He was surprised at how easy the demon's head had escaped its torso, it was surreal at the moment as if the body ejected the head to prevent the rest of itself from exploding. The demon felt good as it made contact with his car glove, with his targeting systems he punted off several heads with rapid fire punching. These hands imitate missiles as they home in to greatly reduce the number of available demons, heads pop as they are made of bubble wrap and the frequency of occurrence mimic the fizz in a freshly popped soda can. This happened as the wizard carries his incantation, something that in RPG games would be considered a buff as observed when he seemingly was absent when the demon attacked, only to reappear to decapitate its ugly head with his leg. There was demon gore on the wizards feet but the Bioborg paid no attention to small detail as he is having too much fun as he is creating airbursts of demon giblets every time he punched one of them off the ground.

Fowler can no detect a weird energy not usually encountered in the natural realm layered around the wizard's mouth, at this point he might want to try testing Mike Tyson's theory. There was heat which was no problem as it was buffered with his insulating layers of exoskin, in which itself has many levels of protection. In front of that he sheathed his body with an EM forcefield, his programming were already setting up several calculations to mitigate the problems caused by this warp. At around a vitruvian range, he reinforces external reality to readjust itself to a 'normal' setting, treating it from this space-time tear. He also activated his sonic modules which have been prepared beforehand which is set to cover a hectometer in order to distort any and all sounds, severing any and all noises. That which includes incantations and communications, the sound of demons now resemble TV static and the bystanders are screaming in pings and screeches as their words are being severed below alphabetical levels.

One hand was extended towards the along with the car at the end to obstruct his line of sight and to dampen the blow aimed for his chest, This is advantageous because of the obvious height disparity which means that the opponent would have to at least jump to make contact. Now there is a makeshift barrier that serves as a cover and a buffer, while the other hand swings for a monstrous right hook as the opponent's fist penetrates the bumper of the car glove on the left hand. Using this split second moment to strike as the opponent digs into his left glove defense. Striking at an unpredictable angle, hitting from the side as the enemy lances forward. Aiming at the Jaw.

His powerful fist collided with the large car/glove. He heard the metal crumple, but only for a moment as the sound was distended and wierded out. He didn't feel the strike so much as experience it. It simply collided with him and he felt a sickening moment of weightlessness as he flew through the air and hit a wall. Magical intellect beyond his own spoke into his mind. "This being is utilising a method of sonic dampening. Any incantations of power will be stifled."

So what do I do? Thought Max, his hands dancing already.

"Do you not remember your fifth grade classes? Silent spell casting, man!" The voice became more insistent.

I never got the hang of that. He felt a stinging slap scorch across his face. Damn father, you have a mean backhand even from beyond the grave. He thought, and called the words into his mind. Out of habit, he muttered the last syllable.

"NO!" The intended telekinesis spell jumped from his hands, turned into a dozen crimson paths of light and corroded their way through brick, stone, metal, and even people, decaying as they went, structurally compromising a lot of the surrounding architecture and causing more than a few deaths. He didn't know if any hit his target.

Luckily at that time he was wearing buffers, the cars instantly oxidized into dust as he reacted in time as that attack has some odd properties. Now the game has changed, the bioborg would need to do some lasting damage on him as there is no need of voice to begin incantation. The dust from the car acted weirdly even after it happened, so the Bioborg decides to 'load' his fists with seismic vibrations. He stood in place as he decides which course of action should he take, now he decides to aim at the Larynx and to hopefully aim for some permanent damage.

"If I crush his voice box the noises will stop, but he might lose his throat"

That light is dangerous and he wanted the person to cease all activities before this gets any worse, so the with current path of action the bioborg drills underground for a new form of attack. The streets are absent of any cybrid life, only human remnants damaged by the overflow of crimson energy. All screaming in distorted pitches towards the wizard.