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>>5680965
>Elite Supersoldier

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>>5680965
>Elite Supersoldier Wild Barbarian Ninja Assassin Loose Experiment Metallic Cyborg Nearly-Extinct Alien Mutant Freak Unnatural Spirit Futuristic Traveler Regular Tough Guy
Let’s rock and roll.

Left out sorcerer and demigod cuz wizards ar’ fags an’ gods ar’ fags.

>>5680984
Support, let's Gary Stu this bad boy.

>>5680965
>Loose Experiment
Weird Science (of punching people)

>>5681000
switching to this

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>>5680965
>Regular Tough Guy
Family

The vote is still going on so I'll explain some more about the quest. A few days ago, I was rereading the old Mortal Kombat Konquest and it inspired me to do something similar. A fighting game setup with a dude going on dangerous adventures, gaining powers, training, or treasure if he survives, and eventually following a loose, vote-driven plot when a structure starts to emerge and you all want to pursue something in specific. Naturally, Mortal Kombat is the biggest example of this but there are two problems with it. 1) I haven't kept up with the lore since Mortal Kombat Armageddon and 2) I couldn't realize it even half as well. So what I decided to do was take the tone, the feel, of Mortal Kombat, a stew of wild bullshit and let a setting develop over time around the protagonist as he goes around kicking ass or finding his way to an early grave. This quest will consist of a loosely episodic format with fast combat and zero cohesive genre outside of "is it cool" and "does it enable fighting"? I am a hack-fraud but I've played plenty of fighting games in my time and this should be fun to run and hopefully to read.

>>5681026
Sounds fun if you can do it right. What sort of mechanics are you gonna use? Or are you gonna go full narrative?

please don't flake

>>5681000

Backing this. Millions of mice died, so that we might punch with the force of...millions of dead mice.

>>5681038
I'm going to use blow-by-blow 1d100 against 1d100 at first but as time goes on you'll meet harder foes and learn tricks of your own. More narrative than crunchy, you won't lose hit points if you get beaten severely, you'll get a broken arm and be unable to punch or grapple with it. That kind of thing.

>>5681038
Also I will not flake. This quest will end only when you are retired or dead.

>>5680980
>>5680984
>>5680985
>>5681000
>>5681001
>>5681005
>>5681041
>Elite Supersoldier: 1 vote
>Gary Stu Chimera: 2 votes
>Loose Experiment: 3 votes
You are a Loose Experiment and your fighting power comes from how you were changed.

Who experimented on you? Choose one of the options below or come up with your own. Also, did you volunteer for experimentation or were you kidnapped?

>An evil sorcerer: Your soul's inner potential was artificially awoken, skipping years of enlightenment at a terrible cost. +Basic Ki manipulation but it's tainted, pick an edgy color for it, such as red, dark green, or purple.
>A secretive cult: You were possessed by an outer evil but managed to win the battle of wills and keep your freedom. +Shadow Powers geared toward offense and a voice in your head trying to turn you toward evil.
>A mad scientist: Your genetics have been carefully spliced to make the optimal fighter without losing what makes you human. +Subtle Hybridization with an animal and the abilities of that animal, can be any animal, or several but this dilutes the potency.
>A government agency: Nanomachines, Son! but also an obscene cocktail of steroids and skeletal reinforcement. +Raw Durability, tanky as hell with some regen but not as much aggressive potential.

>>5681068
>An evil sorcerer
F i s t

>>5681079
Forgot color, let's go with dark yellow

>>5681068
>>A government agency: Nanomachines, Son! but also an obscene cocktail of steroids and skeletal reinforcement. +Raw Durability, tanky as hell with some regen but not as much aggressive potential.
I used to play college ball you know

>>5681068
>>A government agency: Nanomachines, Son! but also an obscene cocktail of steroids and skeletal reinforcement. +Raw Durability, tanky as hell with some regen but not as much aggressive potential.

>>5681068

>Nanomachines, Son!

Bonus points if we were recruited out of a division 1 football team

>>5681079
>>5681082
>>5681090
>>5681103
>>5681109
>An evil sorcerer: 1 vote
>A government agency: 3 votes
You were a gifted athlete with an impressive first few seasons in college football. You were the talk of your hometown and had a promising career ahead, even a real shot at the pros, but your potential wasn't just noticed on the field. A government agency so classified the president isn't aware of it secretly selected you, among others, for a controversial experimental program. What happened next wasn't even recorded. You were their only success after millions of taxpayer dollars, but oh, what a success you were.

Pick a fighting style. This is the most important choice, everything else is secondary to how you fight. This'll also decide what position you used to play. You can detail the specifics for a certain martial art style or skillset. The default is either crude brawling or relying on nanomachines.

>Brawler: You're aggressive, you hit your opponent hard and you hit them fast.
>Technical: You rely on intricate combos and countering your opponent's moves.
>Grappler: You get close and force your opponent into brutal pins and throws.
>Mobile: You're a speedster and like to blitz your opponent before they can react.
>Ranged: You keep your distance and hit your opponent with a variety of projectiles.
>Defensive: You're a juggernaut and can usually outlast your opponent.
>Gimmick: You lean hard into the nanomachines and have some nasty tricks up your sleeve.
>Hybrid: Your personal style is a blend of two of the above.

While we're at it, pick how you ended up as an experiment.

>You were approached by a secret agent who explained his mission. You're a volunteer and wanted this to happen.
>You were forced into the back of a black van at gunpoint. You were kidnapped and didn't have a choice in the matter.
>You don't have any memory of what went down, just that it did. You're an amnesiac and only remember bits and pieces of your past.

>>5681127

>Defensive
>an agent approached us and we wanted IN

We’re 325 lbs of SOLID GRANITE

>>5681127
>Technical: You rely on intricate combos and countering your opponent's moves.
>Grappler: You get close and force your opponent into brutal pins and throws.
>Mobile: You're a speedster and like to blitz your opponent before they can react.
Quick jiu jitsu grappler

>You were approached by a secret agent who explained his mission. You're a volunteer and wanted this to happen.
We got a hellcat red key and we signed on the dotted line

>>5681127
>Hybrid: Your personal style is a blend of two of the above.
>Defensive
>Grappler
We get in range tanking all the damage, then we FUCKING FOOTBALL TACKLE THEM! We did use to play College Ball, ya' know.

>You were approached by a secret agent who explained his mission. You're a volunteer and wanted this to happen.
For the U S of Goddamn A there is nothing we wouldn't do, Jack.

>>5681127
>Brawler: You're aggressive, you hit your opponent hard and you hit them fast.
>Defensivel: You rely on intricate combos and countering your opponent's moves.
>Grappler: You get close and force your opponent into brutal pins and throws.
If we're Armstrong maxxing, we better do it right.

>>5681127
>Brawler
We're just a dude who played football, so all we know is how to punch good and quick
>You were forced into the back of a black van at gunpoint
I think it would be interesting to see how someone reacts to sudden superpowers

>>5681152
>You were approached by a secret agent who explained his mission. You're a volunteer and wanted this to happen.
Forgot this

>>5681127
>Hybrid: Your personal style is a blend of two of the above.
>Mobile
>Defensive
TEEEEEEEEEN HUT!!

>You were approached by a secret agent who explained his mission. You're a volunteer and wanted this to happen.

>>5681139
>>5681147
>>5681151
>>5681152
>>5681153
>>5681155
>>5681173
>Brawler: 2 votes
>Technical: 1 vote
>Grappler: 3 votes
>Mobile: 2 votes
>Defensive: 4 votes
You never were formally trained to fight but being a linebacker teaches you a thing or two. If a professional martial artist were analyzing your style he would call hybrid defensive grappler. You can block and dodge with expert finesse and you excel at wrestling and throwing your foes to the ground, but your favorite move is the tackle. It's an all-time classic and you're one of the best.

>Volunteer: 5 votes
>Kidnapped: 1 vote
>Amnesiac: 0 votes
You'd just finished the last game of your season two days ago, a fantastic 24-1, in great part due to your team's wall of a defensive line. You were standing on a sidewalk looking at the fenced-in turf with a sigh when a tall, stocky man in a suit and sunglasses caught your attention. He introduced himself as an agent, discretely flashed a badge, and confessed that you caught his employer's attention. Your attention was his and he gave you the pitch. A chance to serve your country, be a patriot and all of that, but also to become something more than human. Something so much greater.

Even if it worked, it would mean you could never play football again. For you, that was a huge price to pay but you agreed and signed the dotted line. The agency gave you a generous bonus and a sportscar but that was all small potatoes. You signed a non-disclosure agreement and once you said your goodbyes, you were off to a black-site laboratory somewhere in nevada, or arizona. They didn't tell you which. There, the next couple of years were a haze of injections, tests, and constant, grueling exercise. That shit made your youth look like little league but you stuck to it and something in those mystery chemicals took. It made you harder, stronger, and tougher than you ever could've imagined.

More intense was the regeneration. Workout injuries healed in minutes, shit that would've ended your career healed overnight. Your tolerance for pain skyrocketed too. You can confirm they tested it in every way possible. By the end of your procedures, they confirmed you were their lab's greatest success. If shit didn't happen, you probably would've been moved to some ultra spec-ops squad by now but hey, it happens.

>(1/2)

>>5681216
Let's get the last character building out of the way in one whammy. There's a lot and I know this can be tedious but getting the details down for the record is important.

What's your personality like in a fight? What it's like when you're not fighting for your life? Is this the real deal or is it a mask to the outside world?

What was your upbringing like before you ended up in college football? Was it dirt-poor, were you born with a silver spoon in your mouth, or were you from a cookie cutter suburb? Do you have any previous traumatic or amazing experiences? Is there anyone or anything that's extremely important to you, whether you love or hate them?

If you were to say it in one word, what's your key motivation to fight? Is it your only motivation or do you have any secondary motives? Do you enjoy fighting deep down, is it just something you're neutral on and happen to be good at, or do you actually dislike it and see it as a means to an end?

Last set of questions. What is your full, legal name? Do you have any nicknames? What was your old college team called, what were their colors, and what was your jersey number? Finally, if somebody saw you on the street in a completely normal day, what would they see?

>(2/2)

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>>5681220
>What's your personality like in a fight?
Cocky. We love taunting our opponents, get in their headspace and get them to make mistakes.

>What it's like when you're not fighting for your life?
Charismatic, well-spoken and to the point. No bullshitting or bushwanking, very direct to the point of rudeness at times.
>Is this the real deal or is it a mask to the outside world?
In the end we've always been this way.

>What was your upbringing like before you ended up in college football?
Upper crust, dad was a local politician and a former federal agent (what agency he was attached too he never mentioned). His connections got us admitted to a top school, not that we wouldn't have made it on our own merit. It felt like he were trying to groom us to be his successor, the game was our way to escape him.
Funny that we'd end up joining the feds if this background gets picked.

>Do you have any previous traumatic or amazing experiences?
None, we had a fairly standard upbringing and college experience. You know, apart from being from a rich family and all.

>Is there anyone or anything that's extremely important to you, whether you love or hate them?
I can't think off anything to put here, if other anons want to fill this out they're free to do so.

If you were to say it in one word, what's your key motivation to fight?
The Thrill. Technically two words, but you get the point. The rush from the adrenaline of a good fight is what we seek.
>Is it your only motivation or do you have any secondary motives? Do you enjoy fighting deep down?
To test and overcome our own limits. And yes.

>Finally, if somebody saw you on the street in a completely normal day, what would they see?
Pic related, but younger if we're all OK in Armstronging it up.

>What is your full, legal name? Do you have any nicknames? What was your old college team called, what were their colors, and what was your jersey number?
I'm not American, and as such have zero knowledge of Handegg so if any Burger-anons would fill this out that'd be neat. I'm also not good with names, and calling ourselves 'Steven Armstrong' would be a little on the nose, so I'll leave that to anyone else who feels he can channel his inner patriot and gives us a proper American name.

>>5681257
Support, with the REAL most AMERICAN name

George Washington

>>5681257
Support, though we need a real motivation, like wanting to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.

As for what we care about, our little brother Jacob. He's autistic and wants to become a doctor. AMERICA too of course

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>>5681257
>>5681268
>>5681277
Your name is George Armstrong and you were born to an upper crust family as the son of a minor politician and retired federal agent. You're cocky in a fight and can be charismatic when you're not blunt. You fight for the same reason you played the sport. The Thrill. That rush of adrenaline drives you like no other. In a vague ideal, you want to test yourself and overcome your limits and have a sense of patriotism from your childhood and time in the laboratory, but that doesn't define you. Your upbringing was pretty standard, you have a deep respect for your father even if you feel like his expectations to be like him were suffocating, and you're close to your younger brother Jacob, who's obsessed with anatomy and wants to become a doctor despite or due to his autism.

That's your life story, so far. Now, the chronicle can begin...

>Black Site Laboratory, Southwestern USA, Planet Earth, date unknown, time unknown

You wake up on a hospital bed in a familiar room. The injection site. This time they were testing the nanobot's interaction with heavy sedatives. They didn't work, as expected, but doc let you take a nap once he was satisfied with your interview. These are the last few tests, mostly running diagnostics and checking out edge cases. At this point, it's practically a formality. You're done.

Soon you'll be ready for field work. Getting outside and feeling the wind on your skin is an exciting thought. Technically, you're a prototype but the method's been perfected. All that's left is to get results they can show the paper pushers in the Department of Defense. Anything for the USA. It won't be long before you see your folks again. As soon as the egghead gets back here, he can run some more tests and-
>BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
An explosion. You're instantly alert and on your feet. The hallway outside is filling full of smoke and you can hear automatic gunfire. You don't know if it's yours or theirs. Shit. You don't think this a drill. You don't have any weapons on you, just a medical gown. Then again... You don't need any.

>Run toward the gunfire
>Cautiously investigate
>Run in the opposite direction
>Stay put until you receive orders

>>5681685
>Run toward the gunfire
We were made for bad situations, literally
And besides, being stuck in with all these augments would make anyone antsy to use them right?

>>5681685
>Run toward the gunfire
We're not one of those "beltway pansies". We can break a man in two, with our own hands.

>>5681685
>Run towards the gunfire

>>5681685
>Run toward the gunfire
Pick up stuff that would be easy to throw like football shaped rubble or a gun

>>5681698
>>5681770
>>5681823
>>5681832
This is what you've been waiting for. You rush in the hall and turn toward the gunfire. There are several men in labcoats running past you and a couple of bodies on the floor but you pay them no heed. You're in full fight mode. You sprint until you reach a locked steel door and crash it open with a shoulder check. That was supposed to be bulletproof, but so are you.

You step into the canteen just as the last security officer there is shot in the head. It looks like a bomb went off here, because one did. There's a crater on the opposite wall and half a dozen men you don't recognize in long coats and balaclavas. They're armed with assault rifles and one reflexively shoots your center-mass.
>RATATAT
It feels like a someone's punched you in the gut. You don't flinch and are about to get into a fighting stance when someone else rushes in, snatches the rifle out of his hands, and snaps it in half. "IDIOT! That's our target!" You get a clear view of them. Tall, athletic, in some kind of bizarre, gold-plated samurai getup with red accents and dark green cloth visible beneath. His eyes are sharp and wary. "Our Master believes you have potential, potential too great to be squandered as an attack dog under cowards too weak to fight their own battles."

He enters a wide stance and you see his eyes begin to glow a bright, unnatural blue. The men with him start backing up and giving you space. "You are a man of courage and fiery will. I suppose it is too much to ask that you come quietly?"

>Demand more details.
>Do some trash talking.
>Enough words... FIGHT!

>>5681908
>>Do some trash talking.

'Come quietly? That's not the American way.', among other lines.

>>5681908

“I don’t like your uniform, bud. We’re playing for different teams.”

>>5681911
>>5681908
>"Twelve score and seven years ago, our Founding Fathers proclaimed that never would an American come quietly as long as his heart did beat."
Make sure to also mention the corpses we passed on the way. Those were some good boys, they laid their lives down for America like any patriot would. To leave with this man would be to spit on their courage and sacrifice.

>>5681911
>>5681940
Support both of these

>>5681911
>>5681940
Support

>>5681942
>>5682368

I like the idea that our guy is VERY patriotic but has a very vague and poor understanding of American history, haha

Is it already over?

>>5682674
>1 day
>"I-i-is it a-a-aa-lready ooooover"
give qm time anon

>>5681911
>>5681935
>>5681940
>>5681940
>>5681942
>>5682368
>>5682370
"Come quietly? That's not the American way." The man sighs and stretches his neck. "I must confess, I hoped you would see reason." You shake your head. "I don't like your uniform, bud. We're playing for different teams." He shifts his stance. "I must confess too, that I am unsurprised."

You crack your knuckles as you're hit with inspiration. "Twelve score and seven years ago, our Founding Fathers proclaimed that never would an American come quietly as long as his heart did beat." The samurai, you think, you never were into those chinese cartoons, gets a strange look in his eye as you go on. "You see those bodies? Those were good boys, they laid their lives down for America like any patriot would. If I left with you, I'd be spitting on their sacrifice."

"It was a sad necessity. If you knew what your keepers have done, you would have killed them yourself." You scowl, then crack a reckless grin. "Doubt it. Now square up, you anti-American FUCK!" He doesn't say another word and starts circling you, clearly sizing you up. The gunmen have all left. Not a good sign.

>Go for a tackle
>Analyze his stance
>Try some striking
>Chunk some rubble

>>5682674
>>5682778
I'm sorry for the late update. Yesterday I drove my mom halfway across the state to get a mammogram and forgot to charge my cell beforehand. By the time I got back it was very late and I had to get up early for work today.

>>5683184
>Go for a tackle
You gotta go with what you know. Bet this fucker's never had to break a tackle like this in his life.

>>5683184
>Go for a tackle

pretty sure we can't win this one anyway so let's just pick the IC choice

>>5683184
>Chunk some rubble
>Go for a tackle
Pick up some rubble and get into a quarterback stance before rushing straight at him and smashing his face with a rock

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>5683217
>>5683224
>>5683237
You charge him in a tackle, just like scrimmage.

>1d100+10 to drop his ass! +10 for your signature move

Rolled 18 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5683246
Play ball, Tojo! This is for Pearl Harbor!

Rolled 37 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5683246

Rolled 42 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5683246
One more time!

Goddamn we're not even getting close here, this us a slippery jap.

>>5683246
>>5683251
"Play ball, Tojo! This is for Pearl Harb- urrrgh!" Your tackle was flawless but this man's quick as any runningback you've ever seen. He leaps left and catches you with an uppercut to the breadbasket. You step back and look. His fist is glowing the same blue as his eyes and that hurt, but you can see worry on his face. That didn't hurt like he was hoping. "...You are strong *and* courageous."

You go back to a fighting stance when his fist stops glowing, the palms of his hands start, and he moves on you in a blur!

>Meet him head on!
>Roundhouse punch!
>Fight dirty and trip him!

>>5683273
>Meet him head on!
Headbutt his fist
You don't have to aim if he already is

>>5683273
>Meet him head on!
Oh you've done it now, chump!

>>5683276
Support, ain't no shitty jap dance gonna withstand a forehead strike

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>5683276
>>5683279
>>5683280
You rush in for a furious headbutt!

>1d100 to shatter his hand!

Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>5683287
URAAAH

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>5683287
GET IT DONE!

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>5683287

>>5683287
>>5683289
"Oh you've done it now, chump!" You rush him down and this time it's closer but he pivots at the last second, grabs your waist and tries to throw you down. Your feet stay firm "I've seen better form out of highschool freshmen!" and you swing to grab him but he ends up behind you, palms still on your waist, and then-
>BZZZZZZZZT
The glow bursts into energy that fries your sides and you stumble forward as he goes back into his stance. It courses like lightning and the pain is immense, but you roar and disperse it! "URAAAH!" You can see fear in his eyes. No normal man could've stayed standing after that.

Now you're pissed! You rush him!

>Grab him by the neck!
>Beat him to a wet pulp!
>Crush him with rubble!

>>5683295
>Grab him by the neck!
YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO DO BETTER THEN THAT, PAL! LET ME SHOW YOU HOW UNCLE SAM WOULD'VE DONE IT!
By God can we get one good roll here, please.

>>5683297
Support
Also QM, Are you the one who wrote the grimdark capeshit cyberpunk quest?

>>5683295
>Grab him by the neck!
Shocking
Swing him by the neck in a big circle around you

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>5683297
>>5683315
>>5683315
"YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT, PAL!" You sprint at him again, with no heed for your own safety just like you're back on the turf.

>1d100 to choke him out!

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>5683322
>Rolled 96 (1d100)
He's abou to do better then that, son of a bitch. When I asked for a good roll I meant for us, not him!

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>5683322
Come on man, are we really getting fucked on the first fight

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>5683322
Goddammit how does QM roll so well?

>>5683322
>>5683324
"LET ME SHOW YOU HOW UNCLE SAM WOULD'VE DONE IT!" You close in to snap your hands around his neck but he shifts in a blur, gets behind you again, and catches you in a chokehold! He whispers in your ear. "Let me show you how I, Shichiro Daiyamondo, *will* do it." Just as you register what's happening, he flattens both palms on your chest, lifts you straight up off the ground and releases another, brutal burst of energy in the same second he slams you on the concrete!
>SHWOOOOOM
You slam on the floor facefirst as flesh over your ribs sizzles and almost every nerve ending on your spine is fried! For most, this would be death or lifelong disability but you are not most. Your alloy-reinforced and microscopic nanomachines work overtime to keep you in the fight! Beneath the technology, years of playing hard defense are hitting the urge to fall like a hammer. You won't, you can't, the USA is depending on you!

>1d100+25 to stand back up!

>>5683334
He is OP, he rigs the dice. Also I'm noticing that we really haven't been playing to our strengths here, we're supposed to be a defensive grappler yet we're acting like a crazed brawler.

Rolled 23 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>5683337
Oh shit let's get back up

>>5683310
I am, but I originally only ever intended it to be a oneshot to see if I could run a quest while keeping up with my work. I half-planned for you to die at some point, mostly for the grimdark theme but you kept staying alive and were rapidly developing into a badass. I'll admit that I have a soft spot for the quest and think about it every now and then. Maybe one day I might run it again where we left off but I would have to do a lot of prep. This quest is more for the long haul.

Rolled 22 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>5683337
If we get back up, I say we slow it down and play defensive. This guy knows how to fight and if we don't buckle down, we're getting our ass kicked

>>5683346
Holy shit, good to have you back. Had a hunch it was you with the specific sandbox 1d100 fighting thing. I do miss Simon though, man was a beast.

Rolled 54 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>5683337
We're not gonna let this fuck keep us down, get back up George!

>>5683340
Every centimeter of your body, no, inch, INCH is screaming for you to stop and let your nanomachines mend the damage but you ignore them. You eat the pain and slowly rise to your feet. Shimmering blood pours out of your hospital gown. Yours, you realize. The cloth is in tatters and you can see your own ribs. You don't flinch and stare at the foe. You're swaying on your feet and your head's dizzy, like you've had a major concussion but you can still fight. You're still in this! You pant and muster your strength. "You're gonna have to... do better than that, pal."

Your opponent, Shichiro, makes a small bow in respect. "You have fought with honor, Armstrong-san. There is no shame in admitting defeat." He wisely doesn't let his guard down. "Something tells me that you won't. Call it a hunch. TO THE FINISH!"

He runs in to knock you down for the count!

>Time to wrestle!
>Get ready to block!
>Trip him up!
>Hit him hard!

>>5683354
>Time to wrestle!
>Let him come!
We're a defensive grappler, let him come to us, once he slips up we grab him, bind him in a lock and throw him to the ground.

>>5683354
>Get ready to block!
Catch his strike. If there's something we've learned here is he likes to grapple, and he likes to use his speed and agility to get behind us. Keep an eye out for either and prepare to attempt a reversal. This is the Do-Or-Die moment.

>>5683354
>Time to wrestle!
Every time tried to hit him, he used his hands. If we can somehow restrict them, we can grapple with him on our terms

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>5683355
>>5683356
>>5683357
If you want to win a field you've got to get into your enemy's head, predict his moves and counter them. There's a pattern to his attacks. Besides the woowoo bullshit, he likes to use his hands and he likes to get behind you. You've got to intercept his hands.

>1d100-10 to wrestle him to the ground! +10 for defensive grappler specialty (+5 apiece), -20 for severe damage

>>5683354
>Get ready to block!

like anon said, we voted to be defensive but are playing pure offence, makes no sense

Rolled 39 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5683367
Now's our chance!

>>5683367

>>5683369
whoops, we still beat him though

Rolled 90 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>5683367
>need to roll above a 37 to beat this man
Come on, dice.

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>5683367

>>5683373
Yeah sure, NOW you give me the 90 base roll. Fucking dice man, how do they work.

>>5683375
I'm telling you they love drama.

>>5683367
>>5683369
Shichiro moves in a blur but you already know where he's going. When he tries him palm shock trick for the third time in a row, you grab his left arm and use your weight to subdue him but he's wily and uses a pressure point in your elbow joint to make your grip release. Before he can slip back, you catch his helmet with a left hook and rattle his dome. You see a dent on his cheek but the man underneath doesn't look any worse for wear. Your counter caught him by surprise and he's beginning to move cautiously in response. "They told me you would be a simple first mission. A sportsman with no technique, no training, only a techno-splice in his blood he did not know how to use." He approaches you slowly, warily. "You've proven more complicated in practice." You can almost swear the glow in his eyes has dimmed by a shade.

>Full-on tackle!
>Block him again!
>Grab his wrists!

Any write-ins are extremely encouraged. Especially for fights.

File: gief-gem-spinn.gif (9 KB, 168x109)

9 KB GIF

>>5683386
>Bait him into ducking with a heavy lariat, then hit him with a spinning backfist before he can stand again
He's respecting us too much and he's starting to get gassed. If we through something with some stank on it, he'll probably panic and react reflexively, thus exposing himself.

>>5683386
>Go for a grab, trying to take him to the ground
Defense was a good idea, but he's expecting us to go for his arms again. He need to put him off guard so we can can a better position and he can't dance away from us

>>5683386
>full nelson so he can't use his palms then repeatedly run into walls with him first until he stops moving
Nah im just a simple man tryna smash

>>5683398
+1
Slam the fucker into the ground

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>5683398
>>5683403
>>5683414
>>5683497
You're too damaged for snark so you just smirk, swaying on your feet, and burst into motion! The plan's to open him up for a spinning backfist. A complicated move but you're confident.

>1d100-15 to catch him off-guard! +5 for grappler specialty, -20 for severe damage

Rolled 63 - 15 (1d100 - 15)

>>5683505

Rolled 15 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>5683505
Come on

We probably should've gone for another tackle honestly, could've used that +10

>>5683505
>>5683506
Your sudden lariat surprises him and he dives low. As he does, you keep the momentum going and spin to knock him in the face as you come back around! If you were more precise, it could've done some damage but the angle's off and his helmet eats the blow. A split-second later, he buffets your midsection with a forward palm strike but you lean back an instant before he releases his energy.
>FZZZZZT
It fizzles out with sparks in the air and now you're both a little more beaten. Compared to earlier, it's nothing but it'll be a painful bruise before your nanobots can work it over. You use precious seconds to recover from your inertia as he shimmies back and goes back into a stance. He continues the attack and has you on the defense but that's where you've always been.

>Full-body tackle!
>Wrestle him down!
>Restrain his hands!
>Get some distance!

>>5683517
>Full-body tackle to the ground.
Switch it up, don't let him read us too hard

>>5683517
>Wrestle him down!

>>5683517

>Wrestle him down!

We have a strength and durability advantage so seems best to commit to wrassling

>>5683650
>>5683626
The thing is that we're a hybrid, if we're wrestling we need to do it as a counter attack after a dodge/block or we only get a +5 because we're not fighting defensively. Grappling defensively will get us +10 since we're using our full style, and tackling will also get us +10 since it's our signature move like outlined here>>5683246. We're really fucked up right now with a -20 so we need all the bonuses we can get.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>5683518
>>5683626
>>5683650
>>5683690
If it worked once it'll work twice. If you can get him on the ground you can dominate. You let him come, he moves in a blur!

>1d100-10 to wrassle!

Rolled 88 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5683815

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5683815

Rolled 24 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>5683815
Come on QM, are you rigging these dice?

>>5683815
>>5683839
The samurai tries to blitz you with his hands just as you anticipated. When he goes to palm your waist you grab his wrists and swiftly realize your mistake as his arms glow. You've fallen for a feint. All of his momentum is gone and suddenly, impossibly reversed. This jerks you forward and you lose your balance, letting him break free from your hold, spin around and palm your back, again!
>BZZZZZZZZZZZT
"AAAAAGH!" His energies flood your nervous system, course up and down your vertebrae, and explode out of your side. Your entrails are exposed and you're bleeding profusely. That won't kill you on its own, the nanobots are efficient, but to stand and fight like this... is a tall order. You look and see the glow in your enemy's eyes has almost faded to less than half of what it was when you started. That means he's getting weak. You can do this, YOU CAN DO THIS!

>1d100-5 to stand back up! -30 for extreme damage, +20 for nanomachines, +5 for defensive specialty

Rolled 27 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>5683852

>>5683856
You look down at your spilled intestines, your head feels like it's swimming, and it all goes black. You hear yourself hitting concrete more than you feel it and as you drift into a nanomechanically-induced survival coma, you feel a pair of rune-engraved manacles clamping over your hands. The weight of failure hits you like a train. You have succumbed to your injuries.

Worse than that, you've let your country down.

>George Armstrong's Fight Record: 0 wins, 1 loss

The next update will be in a few hours. I'm slightly surprised you lost your first fight but there is no shame in defeat.

>>5683859
I was going to blame the best of one system, but even with best of three we would've been fucked. And the one time we roll above this dudes stupidly high rolls our debuffs push us below the required check. The die is fucking rigged, I swear.

>>5683859
To be fair QM, we were being pretty retarded in the beginning when we weren't using our specialty. At least we'll know in the future.

So this is best of 1 with enemy rolls? Take it from me, we will not be winning many fights, this basically turns any check into a coin toss. Fun premise but constantly losing isn't fun.

>>5683902
I'm not sure, he seems to update fast so grabs whatever is there. I know grimdark cyberpunk was best of three though, but not sure we're using the exact same system.

File: Prison Cell.jpg (61 KB, 519x612)

61 KB JPG

You awaken on a cold brick floor. You don't know how long it's been but your injuries have healed. You stand and stretch. Due to the experimental technology in your veins there's no lingering soreness from pain or stiffness from lack of motion like your instincts expect. You notice several things immediately. Your hands are free, you're wearing a linen shirt and pants, and you are trapped behind a set of rusted iron bars.

The cell is lit by torchlight from the hallway outside and on closer investigation, looks like a dungeon. That can only mean one thing. You've been captured and are being held prisoner by whoever sent that samurai. Something indecipherable about the air feels off. You don't know what to expect. Torture? Dissection? Solitary confinement? You try to break free but the bars are sturdy and when you examine closely, you can see they've been etched with more of those moon runes. If they're anything like what you were fighting, it'll take more muscle to bend them.

You can keep at it for a while and so you do. Once you find a piece that seems more corroded than the rest, you strain to snap it. Your stamina is only human so you're forced to stop after a couple of hours. When you've had a short rest, you resume with equal vigor. Around your third attempt, a deep voice speaks and snaps you out of it. "Four more days and you would have broken its wards." You look up to see a man in the same getup as the samurai you fought, the differences being that he's much larger, his armor's engraved with similar runes, and he has a pair of curved swords sheathed on his belt.

You rise to your full height and look him in the eye. He's built like a quarterback but his voice is old, either out of his athletic prime or getting close. He keeps out of reach of the bars as he continues. "My son tells me that you should have died. I instructed him to try his best to kill you if you refused to surrender, yet you remain. Excellent. You are strong and will serve our purposes well." Your interrogator gives a faint nod. "I am Takeshi Daiyamondo, Fourteenth Shogun of our venerable clan."

>(1/2)

>>5683952
You point a finger in his face and grit your teeth. "I don't care if you're Emperor of Japan, China, and Vietnam all rolled into one! When I get out of here, I'm gonna kick your ass!" The so-called Shogun tilts his head and laughs. "Ohoho, you are welcome to try. In the meantime, you are our honored guest so I'll answer any questions you may have. Feel free to ask whatever lies within your mind. I swear by my honor I will not be offended."

>Where am I?
>Who are you?
>How long have I been out of it?
>What do you mean by clan?
>Why did you kill my fellow patriots?
>Were those masked sons of bitches yours?
>Why am I locked in a cell if I'm your guest?
>Are you some kind of godless communist?
>What do you mean by "purposes"?
>Why are you an Anti-American terrorist?
>What is this glowing bullshit I keep seeing?
>Why is you and your son's language so cryptic?
>How sharp are those two swords?
>Why aren't you carrying a gun instead?
>How come the air feels different?
>Why don't you have modern technology?

>(2/2)

>>5683955
>Ask
All of the above

>>5683955
Am i on american soil?
If not bring me some
I will know if it is not

>>5683961
Support
We have time

>>5683970
Add that as well kek

I've been busy with family but the update is in progress.

>>5685256
That's alright, real life comes first. Take your time

>>5683961
>>5683970
>>5683987
You speak with a sudden, frenzied intensity. “Am I on American soil?” You see the Shogun breathe to answer and cut him off. “If not, bring me some. I will know if it is not.” Your heart sinks at his response. “I am afraid you are not. If, however, what you desire is the soil of your homeland that can be arranged. Some may yet lay on the heels of my clansmen.”

You take a second to process that. “If I’m not in America… Where am I?” The Shogun rests his hand on his sword handle, a clear habit. “You are safe within the bowels of Yokosunai Keep. Only the cleverest sorcery could reach you here.”

Sorcery? If that mumbo-jumbo turns out to be real... “Who are you?” He pauses to collect his thoughts. “I am many things. A warrior, a father, and most importantly, a leader to my clan. I am not yet your enemy.”

You frown and decide not to tell him how you feel. ”How long have I been out of it?” There's no way of knowing with the nanotech, it could be hours, could be weeks. “Merely two days. You should’ve died. The mechanical taint coursing through your veins is strong.” His speech is impressed and disgusted all at once.

You know what he calls mechanical taint is American ingenuity. There's no question he's some kind of foreigner. ”What do you mean by clan?” You can tell he gives this pitch often. “The Daiyamondo are an ancient family that has served the Emperor well, even when the ruling dynasty has changed. We are not the most glorious or powerful but we are dependable and have a long legacy of service. That means very much to us.”

>(1/7)

>>5685589
Emperor? Is he one of those kamikaze bastards? ”Why did you kill my fellow patriots?”

“You represent a significant breakthrough for the agency behind your research. If they were allowed to continue their studies, there is a chance they could learn to mass-manufacture the nano-serum which empowers you. That is a threat to us all that cannot be tolerated. After your capture, we shredded every document and executed every scientist we could find. For safe measure, we torched the laboratory when we were finished. As the on-site records are gone and their operations were heavily centralized, it is most likely you are the last living product of their science.”

“Even if you escaped and found your way back to them, it would take decades to reverse-engineer your work. The damage is done. I do not celebrate the deaths of your fellows but it was necessary.”

Bastard! You knew some of those people, you respected them all! ”Were those masked sons of bitches yours?”

“No. They are mercenaries of an underground cartel in one of your northern continents, the Blackbloods. I find their greed distasteful but they are competent and tend to keep to their contractual terms.”

You take that in, memorizing the name. "Why am I locked in a cell if I’m your guest?” His tone is firm. “You are too loyal to your owners to be freed without the reassurance you won’t attempt to escape or avenge your fellows. Know that I do not hold this against you.”

>(2/7)

>>5685590
You won't let him get in your head. ”Are you some kind of godless communist?” The question takes him aback for a moment. “...No, I give honor to many gods and allow open markets in my clan’s territory. I will admit that your Soviets and their contemporary revivalists have been challenging to work with in the past.”

It sounds like he's close enough. ”What do you mean by “purposes”?”

“The reasons for your capture are twofold. First, to neutralize the risk of runaway nanotechnology disturbing the balance of the realms. Second, to obtain your services as a deniable asset.”

Asset? That sounds like some Al Qaeda shit. ”Why are you an Anti-American terrorist?” You bang on the bars in rage, but he doesn't flinch and speaks calmly. “I do not hate your America, only its insistence on meddling in affairs that are not its own and tampering with secrets that should not be known. Your American science was not the first danger to our clan and it will not be the last.”

>(3/7)

>>5685593
That calms you down a little. ”What is this glowing bullshit I keep seeing?”

He takes a breath and recites. “Ki is the surplus life-force of a warrior manifested into tangible energy through discipline and will. It is considered fundamental to our clan and to most others. No man can call himself a samurai if he cannot master himself enough to wield it.” He sees the look on your face and elaborates. “...It’s Kung-Fu magic.”

You scoff. “I know what Ki is, Tojo, I just didn't know that's what it was. My little brother used to marathon dragon ball. Kid was obsessed with it.” Now his eyes are unsure of your meaning, so you elaborate. “It’s some kind of Chinese cartoon. They used to broadcast it on cable. They might still, I don’t know. I try not to spend too much time staring at a screen.” He squints. "I see."

That pisses you off. ”Why is you and your son’s language so cryptic?”

“I do not know what it is that you mean.”

”Nevermind. How sharp are those two swords?”

“They can bisect a strand of hair as easily as a stick of butter.”

”Why aren’t you carrying a gun instead?”

“Stylistic preference.”

>(4/7)

>>5685594
"How come the air feels different?"

This time he stops, as if considering his words carefully. "You are no longer in your Earthworld. We have taken you into Atsumaru, the most civilized of all realms." You interrupt. "Realms?" He explains. "In terms your materialistic worldview would understand, dimensions. Your Earthworld has long been isolated from the cosmos but in recent centuries, it has become possible to briefly open two-way portals." You don't dwell on this for long. "You mean I'm in a completely different dimension?" The Shogun answers. "Yes." You're more concerned by the immediate implications.

"You mean to tell me that America doesn't exist here?" The Shogun confirms. "Aside from rare travelers, it does not." You pace in the cell. "I need to go back." He reassures you. "If you cooperate, that can be arranged." You stretch your back. You wish you had a football.

"Why don't you have modern technology?" His answer is instant. "Excessive comfort inhibits the development of discipline which is necessary for Ki." You pace back and forth, staring at the ceiling, and eventually buckle. "That's all of my questions." The Shogun speaks. "Then I will explain the reason you are here. You are a competent and dangerous fighter with an entirely alien technique and exotic powers. You have no pre-existing affiliation with any of our realm's clans and you lack any reputation. That makes you the ideal."

>(5/7)

>>5685595
"There is a small tournament being held in a city several hundred leagues from here. Old Man Fong's Beat 'Em Up. It is secret and technically forbidden by the laws of this land, but the proper bribes have been paid and the organizer, Old Man Fong, is practically untouchable. There have been many like it in the past. Its purpose is to find talent among the criminal underworld and to entertain those members of the merchant class with a taste for blood. Our connections can see you entered without delay. Two matters are of interest to you. Our agents have confirmed that one of the participants will be Shiraishi, a clanless ronin who practices a skin-hardening Ki technique."

"This Shiraishi has deeply wronged our clan. He must die, by any means possible. In the fighting ring or at the dinner table. The gravity of his crimes is such that honor means nothing, so long as he is dead. If you kill him, we will know and arrange for your return to America, with a substantial cash reward. The other is optional: the prize of the tournament appears to be a small crystal sphere. It is almost useless to one without a proper foundation but if you manage to win and choose to return it to us, we will grant you a boon of your choosing. A generous offer."

>(6/7)

>>5685598
You scratch your head. "Why don't you fight your own battles?" The Shogun stiffens. "If our clan's participation in a criminal fighting tournament were known, it would be a terrible scandal. At the same time, we cannot ignore the opportunity it poses. This Shiraishi is notoriously elusive. It may be years before we get another chance like this. After the cur is dead, our dealings with you will be over. You need never think of us again."

He continues. "Old Man Fong's Beat 'Em Up is six months away. Until the night of, you will be in our care. My son tells me that you were a fearsome combatant but were lacking in fundamentals. Though most of the tournament's participants will be similarly unrefined, this gives us a brief opening to hone your skills. If you choose to cooperate, we will do our best to instill in you the beginnings of a true martial art."

The Shogun, an enemy to the United States of America, sighs. "Are you willing to serve us for the time being? If not, we will hold you until we can find a buyer willing to trade for you." Before you answer, he interrupts. "If you are, first, swear by your honor as an American that you will not double-cross us."

>Yes. You'll swear with the intent to complete their mission.
>Yes. You'll swear with the intent to betray them and escape as soon as possible.
>Yes. You'll swear with the intent to betray them and undermine their operations in any way you can.
>No, you're willing to fight for them but you want something else first.
>No. You're willing to fight for them but you refuse to swear.
>No. You would rather rot than lift a finger for these bastards, and refuse to swear.

>(7/7)

>>5685599
>Yes. You'll swear with the intent to complete their mission. Swear upon an american bible
With your sacrifice of service you can use what you gain to advance american interests
End goal: manifest destiny every realm

>>5685600
>Support
America most know there are other realms meddling in its affairs...Also not like we have much of a choice but let's cope and use the first reason. Maybe we can learn how to use our nanomachines in the process, or get better at grappling.

>>5685600
Support
We Americans are the most honourable

>>5683861
He was initially going to be a speedbump or minor foe that got lucky, depending on which way the fight went but he did so well he might be a recurring character. I don't think I've ever rolled that well.

>>5683883
I could've been more transparent about the mechanics but your actions were all very in-character.

>>5683902
That's a fair critique but that's part of the idea behind the quest. You'll grind yourself up from just another fighter to a force to be reckoned with, or die trying. You will be losing fights but clever strategy and playing to your strengths while hitting your enemy's weaknesses will see you win more often than not. The coin-toss metaphor is fairly accurate, which is a problem, but I think I'll add some heavy modifiers for correctly anticipating and countering your enemy's moves, or for unexpected or advantageous use of terrain. We'll see how it goes.

>>5685620
I don't know if any of you have noticed this but I generally use the British spelling for words. Since our protagonist is a red-blooded American patriot, (which is probably why he was singled-out for experimentation) I've been using the American english and measurement system wherever possible and will be continuing that for the foreseeable future unless something extreme happens or you change your worldview, which are both very unlikely.

>>5685654
>I don't know if any of you have noticed this but I generally use the British spelling for words. Since our protagonist is a red-blooded American patriot, (which is probably why he was singled-out for experimentation) I've been using the American english and measurement system wherever possible and will be continuing that for the foreseeable future unless something extreme happens or you change your worldview,
Honestly that's a very nice detail, it contributes to being immersed in the perspective of the main character. I also noticed George tends to think in terms of football to describe people's actions in combat, or how they're built

>>5685600
>>5685601
>>5685620
You take no time to reach a decision. "Bring me an American Bible and I'll swear on it." The Shogun stares into you, appraising your intentions, and makes a slight bow. "It shall be done. As soon as we can find one in our archives, that is. You may be here for a while." You sit on the stone bench and kick your feet up. "I'll wait." The Shogun leaves.

Two hours of mentally analyzing the plays of your last season, your captor returns with a small, old bald man wearing dark robes in tow. In his hands is a familiar book, you recognize it immediately. The King James Bible. The Shogun is silent as the old man hands it in through the bars. You hold it in your hands, open it to see the english writing inside, and close it. You're satisfied this is the real deal. You place your hand on the book and swear. "I, George Armstrong, do solemnly swear by my honor as an American patriot that I will cooperate with the Daiyamondo clan, uh, is that right?-" The Shogun nods and you continue. "-and will do my honest best to train under them and kill the ronin Shiraishi on their behalf."

As soon as you finish, you hand the book back to the old man, who tucks it into his robes and leaves. The Shogun opens the palm of his hand, which glows a very deep blue, and materializes a small bronze key. He slides it in the lock, it opens with a click, and then you're free. You step out and look to your past, and probably future foe. He holds out his open hand in a rigid motion, like he's unfamiliar with the gesture, but you recognize it immediately. You shake his hand, his grip is strong but so is yours. "You have my gratitude, Earthworlder. That cannot have been easy."

You let go and grunt. "My hands are tied. Don't think I'll forget what you've done anytime soon." The Shogun starts walking down the hall and you follow him. "We do not expect you to. Complete our task and we need not continue hostilities." You frown. "We'll see. So what now?" As you reach the exit of the dungeon, he turns to leave and two lesser samurai steps in. "Now, we part ways and your training begins. I wish you well, Armstrong. Do not disappoint."

Neither samurai addresses you, they simply lead you out of the keep's underside at a brisk pace. You follow them and are stunned at the sight outside. The sky is so clear it's almost white and the trees you can see in the courtyard have yellow, nearly golden leaves and wine-dark trunks. The architecture itself looks very japanese, as you expected, but some of the motifs are even more foreign and esoteric runes and glowing signs of Ki are everywhere. There are many people outside in similar clothes to yours, clearly running errands or taking a break from manual labor.

>(1/2)

>>5685696
None of them stop to give more than a glance in your direction and you're affronted. These are peasants, just like your ancestors before the Founding Fathers enshrined your unalienable rights in the American constitution. Maybe one day, you can commence Manifest Destiny and bring liberty to the masses here. To all of the realms! There are several samurai on guard duty and many more scattered around on the distant, towering walls but they pay you no heed. You're led to what appears to a dojo full of men practicing martial arts.

Your physique wouldn't stand out too much compared to some of the larger men here, if you weren't the only white man in miles. One of your samurai escorts walks over to an old, chiseled man meditating and starts talking rapidly in a foreign language. The master rises and looks in your direction, analyzing you carefully as he goes on. Finally, he waves the samurai away and walks over. His accent is heavy but his words are clear. "By order of the Shogun, your training shall begin at this moment."

The first thing he does is inquire about your past. You don't tell him everything, only your personal records in the gym, your athletic career, and your nanobot-induced regeneration. He takes all of this in carefully, and only interjects when you've finished. "Your conditioning is good and you already move like a wrestler. You lack skill. We lack time but if you put in work, we will give you skill. Normally, I run trainees through a years-long program but you are a foreigner. Your basics are different, your philosophy is strange, and you have not yet even awakened your Ki. I cannot determine an optimal training course for you better than you can yourself. Tell me, stranger, what will you learn here?"

>Grappling: You don't have much time, so you'll improve on the skills you've already earned, even if the improvement may be less noticeable.
>Defenses: You'll double-down on what you're best at in the hopes of becoming even better, or at best, nigh-indomitable.
>Striking: You want to diversify your combat and dip into an entirely new fighting style, something more aggressive than you're used to.
>Blades: You lack any real experience with melee weapons but they'll try to teach you the basics of wielding kunai and sai.
>Physical Fitness: They'll take advantage of your regen and run you through a mystical gauntlet of misery to enhance your baseline athleticism.
>Ki Channeling: It's extremely unlikely you have the aptitude to reach combative strength in so little time, and awakening at all isn't remotely guaranteed but it's a powerful tool.
>Nanomachines: You'll reject their offer of training and work on your own, pushing your nanobots to a limit the old lab wouldn't dare and seeing if you can't awaken something.
>You Don't Know: You will insist that they decide on your training for you, after all, they are professionals.

>(2/2)

>>5685698

>Grappling: You don't have much time, so you'll improve on the skills you've already earned, even if the improvement may be less noticeable.
We're already good with grappling, so I say we double down on it so we at least have an offensive action other than our tackle. Our defensive fighting will also improve as its part of our specialty. Barring that, we could go for
>Nanomachines: You'll reject their offer of training and work on your own, pushing your nanobots to a limit the old lab wouldn't dare and seeing if you can't awaken something.

>>5685698
>Nanomachines: You'll reject their offer of training and work on your own, pushing your nanobots to a limit the old lab wouldn't dare and seeing if you can't awaken something.
NANOMACHINES SON

>>5685698
>Physical Fitness: They'll take advantage of your regen and run you through a mystical gauntlet of misery to enhance your baseline athleticism.
>Ki Channeling: It's extremely unlikely you have the aptitude to reach combative strength in so little time, and awakening at all isn't remotely guaranteed but it's a powerful tool.
>Nanomachines: You'll reject their offer of training and work on your own, pushing your nanobots to a limit the old lab wouldn't dare and seeing if you can't awaken something.

Commence 6 million dollar man montage
>Studying the basics of ki channeling
We can rebuild him
>Lift a boulder above our heads repeatedly
We can make him stronger than before
>turn black and hard like senator armstrong at will

>>5685698
>>Ki Channeling: It's extremely unlikely you have the aptitude to reach combative strength in so little time, and awakening at all isn't remotely guaranteed but it's a powerful tool.
Either this as a welcome home present to the lab boys back home so they actually believe us and don't think the nanomachines melted our brain.

And, especially if the ki doesn't work;

>>Nanomachines: You'll reject their offer of training and work on your own, pushing your nanobots to a limit the old lab wouldn't dare and seeing if you can't awaken something.
So we can see if the lab boys back home can get something back out of us. It'd be a shame if all those patriots died for nothing now, wouldn't it? Yeah, Shogun guy said it'd take decades to reverse-engineer but i'd bet that's just how long it took to make 'em in the first place.

>>5685700
>>5685716
>>5685717
>>5685720
You consider what martial art you could reach into for some time, but eventually hit a wall. There's no way you can learn to fight like a pro in only six months. It took you years, decades even, of constant struggle, regimented exercise, and strict dieting to become a solid linebacker and as an athlete of one discipline, you know that building the muscle memory of a separate discipline in so little time is functionally impossible. You mull over the Ki the master spoke of. It's a powerful energy, you know because you've been on the receiving end of it and it hurts like hell, but like any energy, it takes stamina to use, and stamina takes cardio, and cardio takes time to build. Ki is an inner power, a part of your flesh's potential made pulsing ferocity, and you simply cannot begin to grasp its strength so shortly. You, however, have a different internal power.

Nanomachines. Forget the far eastern mysticism, you have American sweat and iron in your veins! The scientists who died for their country, who died for your country, they said the nanobots showed promise. That there was a chance they could approximate an intelligence of their own, even, some hypothesized, to evolve. If nothing else, they are supremely adaptable to external trauma. All you need to do is push them to their limit and force them, force yourself, to change. To improve. To ascend! You explain your plans to the master and he agrees with your summary, although he has his misgivings, and you are given full access to their clan's facilities. Burning coals, freezing winds, spinning blades, vats of acid, and so much more. The upcoming months will be agonizing but that is exactly what you want.

"No pain, no gain!"

>Best of three 1d100 for this roll, since you are working with advanced Ki-laden facilities

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>5685815
LET'S GO HIGH ROLLER

File: I have a dream.jpg (72 KB, 1280x720)

72 KB JPG

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>5685815

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>5685815
89 is a respectable roll for an American. Lets finish this.

>>5685818
The dice found the true patriot. You've done your country proud son.

>>5685849
I FUCKING LOVE AMERICA GOD BLESS THE USA

>>5685599
>No, you're willing to fight for them but you want something else first.

"Get me a goddamn cheeseburger and we have a deal" - you sure as hell ain't gonna eat rice and raw fish for half a year!

>>5685818
>>5685840
>>5685846
>>5685881
The various martial artists aren't sure if they should be awed or worried by your apparent masochism, but you don't care. Every day you wake up and find a new way to punish yourself. Running up mountains and jumping off of them, bathing in ice-cold water and splashing yourself with boiling oil the instant after, challenging students to break specific bones in ten seconds or less, even... you shudder... eating local food. You can handle swallowing hot coals, cutting yourself with kitchen appliances, and crushing every bone in your hand under a stone weight. But raw fish in portions an American toddler would laugh at? It's too much.

You just can't handle it. You know that, so you force yourself to. Even if it makes you weep and wail and gnash your teeth for what you've lost. Your life becomes an endless series of increasingly painful acts of self-mutilation, driven by your zeal to return to the USA. It's torture for a cause just like it was in the labs, but you go farther. You ignore the gradual increase of tension to do what you know will hurt you, potentially too much for the nanomachines to recover. You force them to rise to the challenge of piecing your broken body back together, again and again, and eventually, the American iron in your blood rises to the occasion. You are unsurprised. This is a serious asset to your combat ability, worth every second.

>(1/2)

>>5685912
Pick an upgrade.

>Nanobolts: Your nanobots have an inbuilt safeguard that shuts them down the instant after leaving your bloodstream. This is to prevent the potential annihilation of the earth, or worse, America, but you've learned how to delay it anyway. By focusing for a second, you can pool a shimmering clump of pure nanobots into your palm and launch it with the force of a football. Whatever it lands on will be rapidly dissolved into raw atomic materials before the nanobots shut down in about two seconds, which is gruesome for most organic body parts. You can use this a handful of times per hour before the hunger for nutrients to fuel the replacement of lost nanobots is overwhelming.
>Efficient Repairs: Your nanobots were originally designed for medical purposes to better improve America's already world-leading healthcare. It's inevitable they'd be turned toward military purposes but that's what America does best. Constant stress has caused your nanobots' organic repair systems to skyrocket in speed and sophistication. Now, instead of hours to heal minor injuries, days for major injuries, and weeks for catastrophic injuries, your nanomechanical bloodstream requires only minutes, hours, and days, respectively. As a side-effect, your resilience to toxins and diseases has also improved but your appetite has heightened to deal with the demand.
>Skeletal Integration: Your nanobots have finished integrating themselves into the marrow and structure of your bones. This has helped you take your first steps to becoming a truly cybernetic lifeform, a triumph for American ingenuity, but it has also made your skeleton much more durable. Your bones are functionally made of high-carbon steel and can endure vastly more trauma before shattering than should be humanly possible, your unarmed hits land harder, and you don't have to worry about any amount of personal force damaging yourself. Naturally, you're much heavier and get fatigued slightly faster as the rest of your body hasn't caught up yet, and you've developed an odd craving for metal shavings.

>(2/2)

>>5685915
>Skeletal integration
You can't hurt me jack

>>5685915
>Efficient Repairs: Your nanobots were originally designed for medical purposes to better improve America's already world-leading healthcare. It's inevitable they'd be turned toward military purposes but that's what America does best. Constant stress has caused your nanobots' organic repair systems to skyrocket in speed and sophistication. Now, instead of hours to heal minor injuries, days for major injuries, and weeks for catastrophic injuries, your nanomechanical bloodstream requires only minutes, hours, and days, respectively. As a side-effect, your resilience to toxins and diseases has also improved but your appetite has heightened to deal with the demand

>>5685915
>Skeletal Integration: Your nanobots have finished integrating themselves into the marrow and structure of your bones. This has helped you take your first steps to becoming a truly cybernetic lifeform, a triumph for American ingenuity, but it has also made your skeleton much more durable. Your bones are functionally made of high-carbon steel and can endure vastly more trauma before shattering than should be humanly possible, your unarmed hits land harder, and you don't have to worry about any amount of personal force damaging yourself. Naturally, you're much heavier and get fatigued slightly faster as the rest of your body hasn't caught up yet, and you've developed an odd craving for metal shavings.

Wolverine power go!

>>5685915

>Skeletal Integration: Your nanobots have finished integrating themselves into the marrow and structure of your bones. This has helped you take your first steps to becoming a truly cybernetic lifeform, a triumph for American ingenuity, but it has also made your skeleton much more durable. Your bones are functionally made of high-carbon steel and can endure vastly more trauma before shattering than should be humanly possible, your unarmed hits land harder, and you don't have to worry about any amount of personal force damaging yourself. Naturally, you're much heavier and get fatigued slightly faster as the rest of your body hasn't caught up yet, and you've developed an odd craving for metal shavings.

This is the way we double-down on our physical resilience.

>>5685915
>Skeletal Integration: Your nanobots have finished integrating themselves into the marrow and structure of your bones. This has helped you take your first steps to becoming a truly cybernetic lifeform, a triumph for American ingenuity, but it has also made your skeleton much more durable. Your bones are functionally made of high-carbon steel and can endure vastly more trauma before shattering than should be humanly possible, your unarmed hits land harder, and you don't have to worry about any amount of personal force damaging yourself. Naturally, you're much heavier and get fatigued slightly faster as the rest of your body hasn't caught up yet, and you've developed an odd craving for metal shavings.

>>5685915
>>Skeletal Integration: Your nanobots have finished integrating themselves into the marrow and structure of your bones. This has helped you take your first steps to becoming a truly cybernetic lifeform, a triumph for American ingenuity, but it has also made your skeleton much more durable. Your bones are functionally made of high-carbon steel and can endure vastly more trauma before shattering than should be humanly possible, your unarmed hits land harder, and you don't have to worry about any amount of personal force damaging yourself. Naturally, you're much heavier and get fatigued slightly faster as the rest of your body hasn't caught up yet, and you've developed an odd craving for metal shavings.
PAIN TRAIN COMING THROUGH

>>5685926
>>5685981
>>5686239
>>5686282
>5686282
325 lbs of roided out american linebacker with a high-carbon steel endokeletal frame ramming straight through these godless communists

>>5686285
Him eating steel is presented as a downside when in fact it only makes him more awesome!

>>5685919
>>5685922
>>5685926
>>5685981
>>5686239
>>5686282
Your constant microfractures and violent breaks force the nanomachines to adapt. Their number #1 priority is the preservation of your very expensive life, outweighing all other concerns. As your current skeleton is insufficient to meet your needs they restructure it by embedding themselves into your bones at a microscopic level. This requires an extreme amount of nutrients, which your hosts are all too willing to provide. Your sudden craving for metal shavings throws them off some but they agree and you notice in the process that your teeth have also been alloyed.

The change is subtle and happens over time but the results are significant. Many are skeptical until one martial artist breaks his foot kicking you in the ribs at your request. Now, you're substantially more durable and if any of the eggheads back in America are still alive, they're going to be very interested. You can't get distracted by the past, you need to worry about the tournament. On the morning Old Man Fong's Beat 'Em Up is scheduled you're starting to wonder if they're going to send you through a portal or something when a couple of shady-looking men in black fetch you from your recent routine of rolling back and forth on a small field of broken flint.

You realize what's going on immediately and follow them to what looks like a little wooden boat, sail and all. Except it's floating in mid-air. You find a seat, one of them takes the wheel, and the other sits across from you. It lifts up and starts flying at a rapid pace. Easily hundreds of miles per hour. Somehow, you're insulated from the wind. You suspect it might have something to do with the Ki glowing along the rigging and sail. The Daiyamondo agent across from you begins to explain the basics of the tournament.

>(1/3)

>>5686318
You listen carefully.

>Old Man Fong is a retired crime boss rumored to wield forbidden sorcery. He's known to have a congenial attitude and a soft spot for fighters. You may speak to him but you must not, under any circumstances, attempt to fight, interrupt, or disobey him. He has a very wide network of informants across Atsumaru and could be an excellent ally if he takes a liking to you, or a terrible enemy if slighted. Approach him at your own risk.
>The Beat 'Em Up will be taking place at Old Man Fong's mansion within his estate. There will be a feast beforehand but you are recommended not to get drunk, unless you're a master of the drunken fist. This will give you a chance to size-up your opposition and mingle a little.
>Most of the audience will consist of wealthy merchants and corrupt bureaucrats. Some will be crime lords and disguised agents of the clans and the Emperor. There's usually a few expert fighters interested in spectating. If you're interested in gambling on a win, building connections, or establishing a rapport, the feast will be your best chance to do so.
>The tournament is almost traditional at this point and is only forbidden to keep up outward appearances. It is a very much an approved event, to allow the criminal underworld to vent steam and the various spy networks to keep tabs on potential threats.
>All of the fighters are nobodies or little known, as the purpose of the tournament is to scout for talent. Most will be violent criminals but there are always a few ronin and strange travelers, such as yourself. Your durability and regen between fights should give you an edge but you can't underestimate your opposition.
>Bloodshed is a constant and the fighting arena has a number of visible, obvious traps to enable it. Surrender is allowed and most do, but killing or maiming your opponent is encouraged and there are always several deaths. You are advised to be cautious and know your limits.

>(2/3)

>>5686319
>The tournament will consist of sixteen promising fighters, including yourself, with instant elimination upon surrender or death. All of these fighters are in some way exceptional but only one can claim the prize in the end. You are reminded that the Daiyamondo have promised a generous boon of your choosing should you win and choose to bring it to them.
>Your target, Shiraishi, is a reckless young man with a ridiculous hairstyle known to wear a plain white gi with a braggodocious white belt. The Daiyamondo have put in a word and tilted the odds in your favor but you aren't guaranteed to fight Shiraishi. If you aren't on the tournament bracket together you must improvise. Challenging a specific fighter between matches is allowed but must be approved by Old Man Fong. Unlike most tournaments, sabotage, poison, and assassination are not explicitly forbidden, though they are slightly frowned upon, as the purpose is to promote criminal talent. If someone else happens to kill him, the clan will arrange for your return to America but you won't get the cash reward.
>If at any point you mention the Daiyamondo, the deal is off and you will be on your own. They will hunt you down and a bounty will be placed on your head. This is the standard practice by the clans for anyone who claims to be working for them, regardless of whether or not it's true. Honor is deeply important to Atsumaru and one of its core tenets is openness, even if most clans have their own secret agents.

After he finishes explaining things he goes silent and you spend the rest of the trip there in peace and quiet. Once the red sun begins to set, you see what looks like a decently large town. As the boat slows down and drifts toward a large, fenced-in mansion on the outskirts you realize this was the city they mentioned. The boat lands inside of the hedge rows and you and the agent you spoke to get off. It then sails away immediately. The man makes a sign that he's watching you and practically vanishes. You see there's a crowd milling around in the yard. Most are fat and dressed in silks but you can see a few visibly athletic men and a couple of women in martial arts clothing, sinister costumes, or even rags among them. Almost all are human but you spot a couple of strangely colored people, mutants maybe, and one freakishly huge indistinct figure with his features hidden by a cloak. You don't stand out much in your linens.

You suppose everybody's waiting for an announcement.

>Find one of the fattest merchants and butter him up to gamble on you.
>Try to start a conversation with one of these fighters ahead of time.
>Look for Shiraishi, there's a good chance you can finish your mission early.
>Don't talk to anyone and wait for the feast to commence.

>(3/3)

>>5686324
>Try to start a conversation with one of these fighters ahead of time.

Use our old highschool jock skills for networking and clique building

>>5686324
>Don't talk to anyone and wait for the feast to commence.
I betcha none of these schmucks have ever played ball OR struck out a runner before. I bet ya they play some weird-ass inter-dimensional sport, like soccer or tennis. Yuck.

So far I see this task as quite a simple one (unless we wipe out on shit dice rolls):
>Fight in Tournament to face Shiraishi
>OPTIONAL: Win Tournament
Our Target is Shiraishi, and if we have to wait too long to face him we can easily challenge him outside the tournament with the blessing of Old Man Fong. It's easy to establish cause, he has a similar gimmick to ours and we'd want to fight to determine which one of us is the best at being the hardest motherfucker, so we just spectate a few of his matches to establish context to why we know that and we're set.

Note that I think winning the tournament is optional because we have more time to get fucked by the dice the more matches we go through, but winning for America and taking that trophy home rather than giving it over to Mr. Tojo is alright with me.

>>5686324
>Try to start a conversation with one of these fighters ahead of time.
Maybe we can make a friend, or scout out our first opponent.

>>5686324
By the way QM, I think it would be useful to maybe make some kind of character sheet for George. We'll probably get other powers, signature attacks or tricks up our sleeve as time goes on, so having them listed somewhere would help us understand what we can actually do a little better. Especially when a fight starts.

>>5686342
But think about the hilarity of our man scanning a crowd of Ronin and cutthroats trying to establish who are the jocks and who are the nerds!

>>5686324
>Find one of the fattest merchants and butter him up to gamble on you
The american way
Find a prosperous entrepreneur and get him to invest heavily in an all american product

>>5686331
support
We need to know who deserves to be respected

>>5686331
>>5686342
>>5686349
>>5686407
>>5686535
You decide that it’s best to get an eyeful of your competitors and see if you can’t find someone with a freedom-loving bone in their body. All of these people are complete strangers that have almost nothing in common with you, are at best neutral toward you, and at worst are actively planning on how they’re going to kill you in a few hours. You think back to the last time you were in a situation like this. High-school.

That’s right. It’s all coming back to you now. All of those cliques, jocks and nerds and goths. That was years ago but you figured it out back then, you were on top of things because you had a go-getter attitude and the work ethic to back it. Shifting back into your old personality would be a lot harder if you’d ever left it in the first place. Right now, you’re in your element. You look at the crowd and spot a few interesting people. None of them are Shiraishi, unfortunately, but some might be worth talking to anyway. Your time is limited. You know there’s enough sunlight left to meet two people but everything after that is a crapshoot. There’s no way of knowing if you’ll see any of these same people at the feast or if you’ll even get to eat before the fighting kicks off.

Pick some people to talk to. Every one after the first two, there's a 50% chance the feast will start and you'll be cut short.

>The bald, robed geezer who’s staring at people and taking notes on a scroll.
>The goon who’s missing most of his teeth and looks happy to be here.
>The pretty lady wearing less fabric than a handkerchief, fanning herself.
>The athletic white man in dark camo fatigues lighting up a cigarette.
>The haggard drifter streaked in filth, laughing at something, or nothing.
>The ogre of a man, pitted with scars and wearing what looks like a rotting tiger's pelt.
>The honest-to-God ninja that looks about two seconds from throwing down a smoke-bomb.
>The stereotype of a kung-fu monk, leaning on a staff and politely turning away a merchant.
>The arrogant, muscular young man in a black gi with no patience for any of this.
>The stern, serious professional standing in one corner and already holding a drink.
>The huge cloaked figure, who looks like he’s almost floating off of the ground up this close.

>>5686625
>>The athletic white man in dark camo fatigues lighting up a cigarette.
>The arrogant, muscular young man in a black gi with no patience for any of this.
First one looks like an Earthling,second one looks like somebody we'll likely scare off against.

>>5686625
>The pretty lady wearing less fabric than a handkerchief, fanning herself.
>The athletic white man in dark camo fatigues lighting up a cigarette.

Our folks!

>>5686625
>The stern, serious professional standing in one corner and already holding a drink.
>The huge cloaked figure, who looks like he’s almost floating off of the ground up this close.

>>5686625

>The athletic white man in dark camo fatigues lighting up a cigarette.

This guy looks like a track and field star, we know a guy like this.

>The stern, serious professional standing in one corner and already holding a drink.

We know this guy too, we ran into a couple dudes like this at the lab…

>>5686634
>>5686635
>>5686697
>>5686793
>Athletic white man: 3 votes
>Stern, serious professional: 2 votes
>Arrogant, muscular youngster: 1 vote
>Borderline naked lady: 1 vote
>Huge cloaked figure: 1 vote

You immediately spot the man in fatigues and perk up. In your six long months here, you've not seen a single cigarette and the only white skin you've spotted was on a geisha. That there's an Earth man and looks like your kind of man, at that. You've seen doppelgangers of him running track and field back in college. Hell, you might already know the guy! You walk right over and clap him on the shoulder, pure confidence. "Fancy seeing you here! Small cosmos, am I right?"

The man leaps back like a viper and clenches his fist, then groans and wrings his hand. "Sacré bleu! I can't get away from you Americans, can I?" You do a double-take for a second. "Oh shit, you're French!" His tone is sarcastic and his heavy accent doesn't help things. "Oh nooo, American, I am from Italia... Of course I am French! And a proud member of the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale! Perhaps you have heard of it?" He finishes lighting his cigarette, expertly takes a drag from it, and blows a cloud of smoke. Not in your face, to the side. It seems that your shared Earth origin at least counts for something.

The Frenchman sizes you up for a second, and sneers. "Ahh, you're not even military. Are you from some "Big Apple" Mc-dojo? Ohhh, maybe you are done playing football américain and want different kind of head injury! Hon hon hon!" You're slightly stunned but quick to recover your bearings.

>Appeal to your respective country's long history as allies.
>Explain your circumstances, leaving out classified information.
>Confess (or boast) that you're riddled with experimental nanomachines.
>Try to pry what he's up to and why he's here, instead of Europe.
>Ask what he thinks of the other fighters he's seen so far.
>See if he's after the prize, specifically, or hunting something else.
>Attempt to insult him for being French.
>Just walk away, you don't have time for this.

>>5686976
>Appeal to your respective country's long history as allies.
I like french fries and apple pie with ice cream
>Explain your circumstances, leaving out classified information.
I was drinking and i blacked out
>Try to pry what he's up to and why he's here, instead of Europe.
This aint france pal

>>5686976
>Explain your circumstances,leaving out classified information like the clan
>Ask him why he's here instead of Europe
>Insult him for being French, tell him you've met Québécois who were more polite.
>Ask what he thinks of the other fighters.

>>5686976
>Attempt to insult him for being French.

This isn't a surrender competition frogman. Better get on our good side so we can liberate you again when you get assraped in the ring!

>>5686983
This is me phoneposting, change the insult to 'you've met Québécois with better accents'. That ought to be a better one.

>>5686976

>>Appeal to your respective country's long history as allies.

Thank him for his country's intervention by sending troops to help George Washington win the Revolution (???), and remind him that the Americans returned the favor by kicking Hitler's ass out of France in WWII (again, ???).

Apologies for the sparse updates recently, I've been busy with a doctor and am just now getting back in. It'll be a while before I update but we'll definitely be getting into the fights by the weekend.

>>5687914
No worries at all, health comes first. Should see if the docs can't hook you up with some nanomachines like our ol' boy

>>5687914
Take care of yourself Chronicler, no need to bust your health for a quest on 4chins

Holy shit the legend is back. Tis is a good day.

>>5688571
The funny thing is that we ended up with basically the same tanky as shit character archetype, main different is that we have nanomachines instead of being borderline magically indestructible.

>>5686981
>>5686983
>>5686995
>>5687129
>>5687230
"C'mon now, France and the USA have been allies for over a hundred years. I'll always be grateful for the time Napoleon sent troops to help George Washington win the Revolution, and surely, you've got to remember back when America returned the favor to kick Hitler's ass out of France in World War 2? Our countries go way back." Your patriotism has stunned the Frenchman into silence. "Hell, I like french fries and apple pie with ice cream! In fact-"

He looks at you like you were a 300lb child throwing a temper tantrum. "You, mon ami, are a sterling example of American education at its finest." That sets you off a little. "Hey, American universities have some of the best football teams on the planet!" The Frenchman starts laughing but you cut him off. "Hon hon ho-" "I've met Québécois with better accents." Now, that pisses him off and he starts to smoke faster. His tone is sharp and withering. "Ècouter, American, you're crossing a line." You give him your best shiteating grin. "This isn't a surrender competition frogman. Better get on our good side so we can liberate you again when you get assraped in the ring!"

He scowls, puffs a cloud, and smirks. "Hon hon. You're a long way from America, mon ami. Are you here for the prize?" You pull a lie out of your ass. "I was drinking and I blacked out. Now I'm here and ready to kick some ass. Simple as." The Frenchman fidgets with the cigarette. "...After all I've seen so far? I'll believe it." You grunt. "This ain't France pal. What're you here for?" The question sinks in for a second as he mulls it over, looks around, and smirks. "Eh, I don't see the harm in telling a fellow Earth man. I'm collecting video footage for a secret agency on our Terre, and if I win, I'll be getting a considerable bonus toward an early retirement."

>(1/2)

>>5688631
You scratch your chin. "That makes sense. What do you figure your chances are?" The Frenchman shrugs. "Vouloir, c’est pouvoir, mon ami. If I win, I win. If not, well, I won't worry myself until the time." You think on that. You don't understand the French but you think you got the gist of it. "Not a bad philosophy. Any fighters you worried about?" He takes a long drag on his cigarette, deep in thought, and speaks. "There is this dame, black as the night. Fine derrière, but something's sinister in the air about her. If you find yourself in the ring together, watch yourself." You nod along. "Yeah, alright, I'll keep an eye open. Anybody else?" The foreigner, somehow closer to your origin than anyone else here, shrugs. "Big man in the cloak. Haven't seen his face, haven't even heard him speak. He's keeping secrets and I don't want to be the one to find them. Besides that?" He spits on the grass and sneers. "Voyous and vultures."

You laugh and reach over to jostle his shoulder opposite the cigarette-hand. "Now, that's the kind of Earthly confidence I like to see! Can't say I'll be going easy on you myself." The Frenchman starts to finish his cigarette and returns a thin smile. "I'm not counting on it. I hope I won't have to beat your face anymore than it already is, American. You can call me Sauteur." You reflexively go to introduce yourself and pause for a second.

>Give him your real birth-name.
>Give him a fake but plausible-sounding name.
>Give him some kind of dynamic fighting nickname.
>Give him banter instead of answering, then bail.

>(2/2)

>>5688633
>Give him your real birth-name

Fear doesn't suit us, and I have a feeling we'll be easy to track back home anyway.

>>5688633
>Give him your real birth-name.

>>5688633

>Give him your real birth-name.
Name's George, George Armstrong

>>5688633
>Give him your real birth-name.
Name's George Armstrong
But you can call me AMERICA-SAN

>>5688634
>>5688655
>>5688669
>>5688680
"Name's George, George Armstrong. But you can call me AMERICA-SAN!" The sudden faux-japanese catches Sauteur by surprise and he breathes in too deeply of his cigarette, choking and coughing for a moment. "No, no I don't think I will." You chuckle. "Haha, suit yourself, Frenchie. I'll see you in the ring." You leave him to the rest of his smokebreak and head over to where the man you spotted earlier's sipping some local rice wine out of a little glass.

Just looking at him, you know the type. You knew a few back in the labs. Strict, stern, serious. Eyebrows set like steel and a frown so deep it might as well be carved in stone. One-hundred top-secret business and business is in. As you approach, he sizes you up with a detached glance and pre-empts you in clean, accent-less english. "You are here to fight in the tournament." You nod. "Yep, I'm gonna-" He interrupts you. "You are also here to kill someone." That straightens your back. "How'd you know?"

"I could see it in your stance. I don't care, that's what I'm here to see happen." You outwardly relax a little but now you're cautious. "Well, it's a good place to see it, isn't it?" The man takes a sip and then a deep breath, cool as a cucumber. "It is. Let me guess. You don't have any formal martial training and little-to-no experience with brawls. You played a physical sport of some kind and aren't here of your own will. You're hiding a trick up your sleeve but aren't a sorcerer or Ki-practitioner and lack any kind of nonhuman heritage. Is that right?" You're taken aback. "You're spot-on." The man raises an eyebrow and you change your wording. "Ahh, you're right. How do you know so much?"

He continues to drink. "Educated guesswork. You're confident in your chances and..." He looks up and down again. "...I think you may have a decent chance of victory." You ask him the first question that comes to mind. "Who are you?" The man, clearly some kind of agent, turns up the glass and swallows before speaking. "I am a man of leisure. You can call me Oishi." You take that in for a couple of seconds. Probably a codename. He's silently listening and you sense he might know more than he's letting on.

>Ask him if there's any fighters you should watch out for.
>See if the rumors about Old Man Fong practicing forbidden sorcery are true.
>Ask him how it is he and most people you've met so far speak fluent english.
>See if he knows what the mysterious prize is and what it's used for.
>Ask him why he's so sure that your tricks aren't supernatural.
>See if he's willing to tell you anything about who he's working for.
>Ask him if he has any advice to help you stay alive in the ring.
>Get him to guess who your target is and determine if his guesswork is as good as he'd like you to think.
>Just shoot the shit for a little and help him loosen up, like you did with the suits back in America.

>>5688734
>Ask him if there's any fighters you should watch out for.
>See if the rumors about Old Man Fong practicing forbidden sorcery are true.
>Ask him how it is he and most people you've met so far speak fluent english.
>See if he knows what the mysterious prize is and what it's used for.
>Ask him why he's so sure that your tricks aren't supernatural.
>Ask him if he has any advice to help you stay alive in the ring.
>Just shoot the shit for a little and help him loosen up, like you did with the suits back in America.

Just the essentials, let's not explode our cover even more than it is. We're being watched

>>5688734
>Just shoot the shit for a little and help him loosen up, like you did with the suits back in America.
Used to play college ball you know

>>5688746
+1

>>5688734

>Ask him if he has any advice to help you stay alive in the ring.

Let’s stay focused on the matter at hand.

>>5688746
>>5688749
>>5688751
>>5688830
“Any fighters I should be watching out for?” The man rubs his chin, thinking for a second, then speaks with rote precision, like he does these sorts of analyses regularly. “Orokamono. The others see him for the drunken fool he is, but he is also vicious and quick with a knife, and in most cases that is all that is needed. Wan Xuegang may not look impressive but his technique is among the best I’ve seen in men his age and I have seen many men. Lastly, Nakashima is a wildcard but his staffwork is smooth and his mobility could pose problems for any slower fighting style.” He holds his glass, twirling it in his fingers, and continues. “There are a couple of sorcerers and one enigma in the running as well, but I suspect you’re hiding an answer to their treachery.”

You briefly try to downplay your sheer confidence. “Maybe, maybe so. Hey, so you know Old Man Fong?” That gets a sudden forced neutral expression from Oishi. “...I do know of him, and we have met in the past.” You continue. “Are the rumors true? Is he really into all of that forbidden sorcery junk, or is it just some more of that he-said, she-said type bullshit?” He taps his fingers on his glass and speaks in a familiar, ‘this-is-classified’ tone you know very well. “I am afraid I am not at liberty to discuss this.” That means, likelier than not, you’re right on the money. You nod your head to reassure him that you’re not really interested. “Yeah okay, I get it, don’t wanna be spilling any beans. Huh, so-” The man interjects. “So?”

You continue. “-yeah, so, how come almost everybody I’ve run into speaks english?” That gets him rubbing his chin again. “The tongue we’re using now is an unusually dense and descriptive language, and is one of several that consistently reoccur across the histories of the various realms. You call it english, our realms call it eigo, it is a common and convenient tongue for handling foreigners and foreign business.” That blows your mind and you rub your forehead for a second. “So you’re telling me, people speak english in other dimensions?” Oishi corrects you as he explains. “In other realms. Not all of them and not everyone.” You’re curious. “Which dimen-, uh, which of these realms speak the most english?”

>(1/3)

>>5688968
The man shows his teeth in a slight grimace. “Mostly hellscapes and marauding tribes in kinder lands. Rarely, a hegemony of the tongue emerges-” “Like the USA!” “-I see. Yes, like the Usah.” You hurriedly go to explain. “It’s an acronym, U.S.A., and stands for the United States of America.” This intrigues him, you can tell by the way his eyebrow’s subtly shifted position. “United States? So it is an alliance of independent clanholds, then?” You shake your head. “No, it’s more of a-, actually it can wait. For now, I mean. Its Manifest Destiny is extremely important to us all but our enlightened societal structure would take too much time to explain.” The way he looks at you has changed slightly. “I understand.”

You decide to change the subject. “The prize. It’s supposed to be a small crystal sphere, right?” Oishi gives a slight nod. “It is.” You rush to ask. “What is it? What does it do? I haven’t gotten any kind of explanation yet.” The agent adjusts the sleeve of his kimono and waits a moment before answering. “If you do not already know, it is likely you would make a terrible mistake out of ignorance in claiming it so I will enlighten you. The prize is what is known to us as a Primordial Seed, an extremely dense deposit of Ki formed within the earth. In its shell is a substantial amount of Ki. How much I cannot say, as I have not touched it myself, but even the smallest Primordial Seed has enough Ki to rival decades of enlightened refinement- or in careful, guided hands- to skip those years entirely. So much Ki can do many things, return an old man to his prime, turn a young prodigy into a serious power, or give an inept, dull-spirited fool the chance to reach a level he never could have on his own.”

His voice is mildly interested, the secret agent equivalent of an awestruck daze. “You must understand, gaijin, Ki is dangerous. If absorbed improperly or recklessly, it could easily cause a bodily rupture or worse, damage the meridians. Death is among the least terrible fates then. Should the Primordial Seed fall into your hands, I advise you to consider carefully if it is worth the risk. Of course, the greatest power is not in the Ki itself but the rarity. To those inclined toward Ki-practitioning, it is one of the finest gifts, or bribes, that could be given.” You’re fascinated by the explanation. So that’s why that Tojo wants it so badly, it’s some kind of kung-fu artifact.

>(2/3)

>>5688969
“Thanks for filling me in, Oishi.” You lean in closer and speak in a near-whisper. “Say, how can you be so sure my ‘trick’ isn’t supernatural?” His tone of voice is very frank. “It is simple. Your ambient Ki levels are that of a frail cripple or an old man who didn’t refine any in his youth. You lack the demeanor of a sorcerer, are too well-adjusted to be practicing a self-destructive Ki art, and there are no signs of other unnatural energies. Despite your deficiency, you are in excellent physical condition and seem to have no shortage of stamina. I would assume you are some variant of hidden undead, far from unheard of, if rare, but the Ki that is present is of an excellent purity and vibrancy. On a closer look, it seems that part of your blood and bones has been replaced by a lifeless clay... but I have never seen or heard of such a thing.” He pauses. “To my knowledge, it should not be possible yet here you are. I am not surprised. There are many strange things across the realms. Is your condition common in USA?”

You’re still trying to process what he just said. “It’s the USA, and no. I don’t really have a condition, it’s more of a-” You stop yourself there and he politely holds up his palm. “Hide the details if you wish. I will find out more in the arena.” The matter-of-fact way he said that reminds you of the labs and not in a good way. You maneuver around the topic. “Speaking of, do you have any advice to help me stay alive in the ring?” Oishi contemplates. “Don’t ignore your peripheral. Focus on multiple angles of attack. Keep your opponent from seizing the momentum.” You break into a grin. “Sounds just like football.” The agent notices your enthusiasm and pays closer attention. “Football?” You eagerly start explaining. “Used to play college ball, you know…”

>1d100+10 to shoot the shit, +10 for foreign exoticism

>(3/3)

Rolled 60 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5688970
Kek, let's do this

Rolled 39 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5688970
God damn I love Patriotism

Rolled 12 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5688970
So we win and eat the seed?

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>5688974
Some time later, Oishi is drinking more and has started to relax. "You are telling me that this team, the "Cleveland Browns," went an entire year without winning one game?" The man pays close attention to your answer. "Yep. Whole season of 2017, not a one." He shakes his head in scorn. "Have they been punished for such dishonor?" You grin. "At that level, defeat is punishment enough." He scoffs. "I do not understand your philosophy but this sport of yours, "football", sounds like it could be a big hit in some of the provinces."

You shrug non-commitantly and opt to disengage while he hasn't gotten with the American novelty. "Yeah, it's pretty damn great. Huuuge in the USA. Ahhh well, I'd better leave you to business Oishi, won't be long before the Beat 'Em Up kicks off." The man subtly shuffles his posture and slips something from his sleeve into your hand. "That it will not." You look down to see a laminated card with a few of those moon runes embossed on it. "Here, take my card. I can see that you have some untapped potential. If you survive this tournament, I know of a few contacts that could get you a proper foundation." Now, he leans in to whisper. "Not all of them in Atsumaru. Just think about it. Good luck in the ring George." You shake his hand, a foreign gesture to him, but you've gotten the agent in a better mood and he even waves slightly as you swagger away and slip the card into your pocket.

That could be useful. It's the last thing you need to be worried about now but later on, or if you ever end up back in this dimension, it could be an opportunity. Maybe you'll have enough time to shoot the shit with someone else before mealtime kicks off.

>I'm rolling for the environment:
>1-50: The feast begins. 51-100: You'll talk to the next person on your earlier list of votes.

>>5689157
Moments after you finish talking to Oishi, you hear a sudden, brash ringing sound.
>GOOOOOOOOOOOONG
Everyone in the crowd turns to look in the direction of the mansion, where you notice there's a massive, bronze gong bolted onto a balcony structure, and a large manservant holding an oversized mallet. When he sees that he's gotten everyone's attention, he shouts in a loud yet subservient voice.
"HONORABLE GUESTS! THE FEAST FOR THE TOURNAMENT SHALL COMMENCE IN FIVE MINUTES!"
Then he lowers the mallet and goes back into the mansion without further adieu. On the bottom floor, its doors swing wide open and a handful of staff wait to welcome the incoming crowd. The future audience starts to flood into Old Man Fong's residence and you notice, funnily enough, that most of the fattest people are moving the fastest. You follow them at a slow pace. Your stamina is excellent but you need to conserve your energy.

The mansion itself is unmistakably far eastern in its design but the lacquered tile floor, intricate tapestries, and large halls leave you a bit impressed. As you enter you get the faint scent of perfumed incense burning in hanging candles, strategically-placed in such a way to subtly guide traffic down a specific route. You follow and in a couple of minutes, you've entered into a vast hall with a number of long, flat tables on the floor with sitting cushions lined next to them. The darkness is absolute, outside of a few wavering candles. All on the pale wood are heaped hundreds of plates, bowls, and assorted dishes of every variety you've seen or heard of in your time here, and some that you haven't. There are more of the mansion's servants here, waiting in silence as the crowd filters in and finds their way to their seats.

>(1/3)

>>5689221
The murmuring in the room reaches a steady droning pitch and is constant. None, not even the fattest who can barely move, dare to reach for the food. The tension is heavier than a lead blanket, like you're waiting for the first play of the superbowl. Suddenly, something subtle shifts in the air, a tonal change that brings an immediate, near-total end to even the idea of noise. The anticipation is immense. You can't breathe. A nearby merchant begins thumping his chest as though he's at risk of a heart attack. Everyone is waiting for something, then, your attention is drawn to a figure emerging from one end of the hall twirling a pearl-capped cane, clad in thick, purple robes and a wildly out-of-place fez. He's tall for a local and fat, too, but by the way he moves, you can tell it's concealing a great deal of muscle. His face is wrinkled and he has a long, stark-white fu manchu mustache but rather than the wizened expression you've come to expect from the monks with it, his eyes are in a wild blaze and his unnaturally white teeth flash a savage grin. Without preamble, he slams the tip of his cane to the floor with a thunderous-
>BOOOOOOOM
-and the candles that were so weak earlier explode into light, revealing a dozen chandeliers. Now the room is perfectly lit and the edge in the air is gone. The figure, who must be no other than Old Man Fong, raises his cane up high overhead and speaks in a quiet, conversational tone that reaches every pair of ears in the mansion. "Let the festivities begin." Just like that, you feel a weight come off of your shoulders and most of the crowd get on with digging in. You see Old Man Fong take an unremarkable seat along a random table and start chatting up the attendees next to him. The servants start bringing in glasses and pitchers of sake, a melodious harp and flute plays from somewhere, and the background din resumes with newfound vigor. Where before there was silence, now there's a raucous party atmosphere.

>(2/3)

>>5689222
You are left to your own devices and have a thin window of time left to yourself before the fighting begins.

>Tuck in and enjoy the food. More likely than not, your metabolism will burn through a decent chunk by the time you stand up.
>Look for your target, Shiraishi, to get a feel for him and potentially sabotage him, or have a conversation before you try to kill him.
>Search for another one of the fighters to talk to. Maybe they'll have some interesting insights or something worth hearing.
>Inquire to one of the servants about the tournament bracket and venue you'll be fighting for your life in.
>Leave the feast hall and use the time to snoop around the various rooms of the mansion. With a bit of luck, you'll be back in time for the fights.
>Attempt to get an audience with Old Man Fong. He seems like he'd be a hell of a lot easier for you to get along with than most of the Daiyamondo mystics.

>(3/3)

>>5689223
>>Tuck in and enjoy the food. More likely than not, your metabolism will burn through a decent chunk by the time you stand up.
See if we can find that young man in black, the goon with no teeth or the staff weilding kung-fu man and sit next to one of them if possible. We're not done sharing the glory of Football to these less-fortunate. Maybe we can even point out how this feast pales in comparison to the Great annual 4th of July BBQ!

>>5689223
>Tuck in and enjoy the food. More likely than not, your metabolism will burn through a decent chunk by the time you stand up.
What a succulent chinese meal
Someone might approach us so lets just take the opportunity to eat till we're full since we have been going hard at training and even before that nanomachine testing

>>5689223
>Look for your target, Shiraishi, to get a feel for him and potentially sabotage him, or have a conversation before you try to kill him.
We don't really know shit about him, so getting some intel seems wise

>>5689223
>Tuck in and enjoy the food. More likely than not, your metabolism will burn through a decent chunk by the time you stand up.
>Look for your target, Shiraishi, to get a feel for him and potentially sabotage him, or have a conversation before you try to kill him.

>>5689223
>Tuck in and enjoy the food. More likely than not, your metabolism will burn through a decent chunk by the time you stand up.
Maybe if we eat enough, we could attract some attention from the people we wanted to talk to but couldn't.

>>5689223

>Look for your target, Shiraishi, to get a feel for him and potentially sabotage him, or have a conversation before you try to kill him.

We don’t even have to talk to him, just try to find him in the crowd and get a good look at him.

Rolled 77 - 20 (1d100 - 20)

>>5689230
>>5689242
>>5689244
>>5689273
>>5689274
>>5689304
Like the vast majority of +300 pound collegiate linebackers, you have a serious appetite. Unlike the vast majority of +300 pound collegiate linebackers, your body has been subject to years of military-grade steroid therapy and routine experimental nanomachine injections that have begun to assimilate most of your skeletal system. Now, that's fantastic and makes you proud to be an American, where at least you know you're free, and you won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to thee- wait. You consciously stop your train of thought from finishing the song, a rare situation but you are in rare circumstances and need to analyse them with a rare attention to detail. Right, that's fantastic and makes you proud, PROUD, but these 100% American steel (you think, you don't know their mechanical composition and the eggheads never explained it in non-specialized PhD terms) nanomachines are very efficient at what they do, and they need a LOT of calories to keep their patriotic little gears turning.

Normally, that means a FUCKTON of whatever you can get your hands on, and here? That means rice, lots and lots and lots of rice. Every now and then raw fish, and you are sick of it. That quality of food in that quantity is a disgrace to any red-blooded American, let alone a man of your statue. For the first time in six months, you finally have the chance to at least take care of the "quantity" issue, and you would damned sure rather do that than gossip with some more living cartoon characters. That Shiraishi punk is a problem you've got to solve but you're not in any rush. You'll ask around with the folks you're eating with, let 'em gibber-gabber, and get a scoop of the rumor mill. Take a look and see if you can't spot him in the crowd, hell, see if you can't get a seat with the bastard.

It's not the end of the world if you can't get a bead on the man. You're going to kick his ass once you're down in the ring, one way or another, but that's later. Right now, you're hungry. HUNGRY. You can relate to these fat men. Food is one of America's foremost pleasures and if you weren't an athlete, you'd probably be in their shoes. Or, those little slipper things they're wearing instead of proper boots or nikes. God, you wish it was the 4th of July.

>1d100+30 to E A T, +20 for nanomachines, +10 for bulk
>1d100 to gather intel on Shiraishi if you can
Be sure to specify which one you're rolling for. If you don't I'll take them in the order they rolled. I'm rolling to see if Shiraishi catches on that you're after him, he gets -20 because he's reckless and has zero forewarning. It changes very little if he knows but if he does, it'll shift some of his tactics if you meet in the ring.

Rolled 49 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>5689545
Rolling to CONSUME

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>5689545
And one for intel

Rolled 67 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>5689545
Rolling to C O N S U M E

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>5689579
Rolling for intel on this one

Rolled 39 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>5689545
WE FEAST TONIGHT BOYS

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>5689545
Intel is important too I suppose, also rip my feasting roll

>>5689578
Rip intel roll

>>5689548
>>5689578
You've always been able to put it away and this feast is no different. You aren't sure if there's anything you'd like, so you try it all and eat it all. Enough for any three normal men or two of the more prosperous guests. It turns up an eyebrow here or there but those who've refined their Ki are known to eat vast amounts of food and they don't know why you would be any different. Over the course of the half-hour feast, you end up eating a fairly reasonable amount for a tournament fighter.

Unfortunately, you sat next to a pair of idiots, one of which started drinking themselves into a stupor immediately, the other mumbling in a foreign language and tugging your shirt sleeve. You don't learn anything from them that you don't already know and Shiraishi isn't visible from where you're sitting. Even more unfortunately, while there's plenty of food, it's just not the same as the Americana you've come to love. All it does is make you long for home. You end your meal with a full stomach and an empty hole in your heart only a burger could fill. That's it for the meal and as most are finishing up, Old Man Fong stands, lifts a glass into view, and taps it with his cane.
>TIIIIIIIIIIIIING
The echoing noise catches everyone's attention and he speaks. "A toast, for the next generation of underground fighters!" Most attendees raise whatever cups or bottles are close to hand and shout, mutter, or slur a specific foreign word. "KANPAI!" You don't know what it means but after that, the host downs his and everyone else follows suit. You grab a glass and make a quick decision.

>Join in the toast.
>Stay out of it.

>(1/4)

>>5689810
Fifteen minutes later, the servants start collecting used dishes and politely escorting those too drunk to walk to somewhere else. The various attendees rise to their feet and Old Man Fong makes an announcement. "By drawing lots, the tournament bracket has been determined. The fighting shall soon begin. May the Kami have mercy on the defeated, and heap infamy on the victors!"

You notice some finer-dressed servants are combing through the crowd, searching for particular people. The fighters, you realize. One finds you and gives a respectful bow. "Armstrong-san, please follow me to your seating arrangements." You have nowhere else to be so you agree and he details the bracket as you go.

>The Fighters:
>Sauteur
>Orokamono
>Eclipse
>Shiraishi
>George Armstrong
>Yoshifumi
>Sakata
>Blizzard
>Nakashima
>Wan Xuegang
>Enokida
>Fatso Chin
>Su Su
>Higuchi
>Centipede Cloud
>Karasu

You recognize some of those names from your talk earlier but most are foreign to you. Most guests would likely already be aware of the details and you reason any mystery would fuel speculation and gambling. Come to think of it, you're probably one of the most exotic fighters here. According to the servant, the bracket was randomly decided by lots and shifted where Old Man Fong deemed it would make for a more interesting match.

>(2/4)

>>5689815
>The Tier One Bracket:
>Fatso Chin vs Enokida
>Wan Xuegang vs Sauteur
>Blizzard vs Karasu
>George Armstrong vs Shiraishi
>Orokamono vs Sakata
>Eclipse vs Higuchi
>Nakashima vs Centipede Cloud
>Yoshifumi vs Su Su

You don't betray any surprise at your first match. The Daiyamondo's agents have come through and guaranteed a fight with Shiraishi. There's a lot riding on this so you'll need to give it your all. You're led into an even larger chamber deeper in the mansion built like a coliseum, with several hundred seats in a circle looking down into a stone-floored pit. You notice the walls are lined with spikes and there are several mounds of loose rock. The crowd's pouring in but you, and fifteen other fighters, including the huge figure in the cloak, which looks to be visibly rippling now that you're nearer, are taken to a booth in the front-row with an excellent view. It takes you a second to spot Old Man Fong's fez in the crowd, in a nice though not exceptional seat. When everyone still sober enough to watch has situated themselves, his voice can be heard across the arena.

>(3/4)

>>5689817
"Tonight, we are gathered to witness a tournament dedicated to honoring the struggles of those who go unseen or scorned by our great empire, for good reason. In this arena sit or stand sixteen fighters. Some of little notoriety, some obscure, a few unknown to Atsumaru. Some will die in pain, some will live in memory, one will walk away with a taste of true power. All are bound by two connections, which I and some of you know well: a polite distaste for the law of this land, and a lifelong dedication to the fight. None of that matters. It is a formality. We are all welcome friends or invited fools, here to drink sake and watch bloodsport, so in the interest of an interesting time, let us not waste any more. Let the nineteeth of my Beat 'Em Ups..."

"BEGIN!"

"FIRST MATCH!"

"FATSO CHIN AND ENOKIDA!"

On this word, two of the fighters leap into the ring. The lady with the fans you saw earlier and a man so grossly fat you assumed he was one of the guests are squaring off on opposite ends. They're preparing to fight and you know that soon, you will face Shiraishi. You shift in your seat and see who must be him, a tan, muscular young man in a white kung-fu robe with a white belt but what stands out to you is his red spiked mohawk. He's currently jeering into the arena, along with a couple of the other fighters, but the majority are either meditating or paying close attention to the fight. At a glance, you can tell they're both doing some heavy acrobatics.

>Watch the next few matches to get an idea of their style and how you might counter it.
>Attempt to talk to one of the fighters sitting nearby.
>Do some trash-talking with your soon-to-be opponent.
>Use this valuable time to psyche yourself out and get into a patriotic mindset.

>(4/4)

>>5689818
>join in the toast
>Watch the next few matches to get an idea of their style and how you might counter it.
I would try to get into a more patriotic mindset but we are currently drinking at a contact sports event
Just needs more eagles, guns and cheerleaders

>>5689818
> Join in
Our nano machines can handle a little juice
>Use this valuable time to psyche yourself out and get into a patriotic mindset.

MURICA! MURICA! MURICA!

>>5689818
>>join in the toast
>>Watch the next few matches to get an idea of their style and how you might counter it.
Don't worry george, soon we'll eat a nice burger.

>>5689826
>>5689851
>>5689853
You saw no reason not to toast and slammed-back the glass. The alcohol content was steep but you didn't even get a buzz out of it. The nanomachines in your bloodstream are busy little drones and do everything they can to keep you in fighting shape, including breaking down poisons and narcotics on a sub-atomic level. Bit of a bummer you can't really get wasted for Independence Day but that's a small price to pay to serve your country. You're still nursing the drink in the stands and take a look down into the ring, whispering to yourself. "Murica, murica, murica..."

You might as well see how they fight in-case you end up meeting them on the field in a few more minutes. You take a sip and watch as the fat man, who must be Fatso Chin and nearly-naked lady, Enokida, are circling each other. You have no idea how either of them fight but anyone who'd enter a tournament under "Fatso" has your respect and with a body like hers, this Enokida lady would make one hell of a cheerleader. You aren't sure which of them you're rooting for. You lean in to get a better view.

>For fights George Armstrong isn't involved in, (You) will roll a 1d100 for each fighter to see who wins. The highest moves on, the loser is either spared or slain, depending on the winner's ethics. If the difference is extreme the loser may be killed in battle if they can't make a decent roll to survive the loss. Remember to mention who you're rolling for in the post.

>1d100 for Fatso Chin to FIGHT
>1d100 for Enokida to FIGHT

File: Fat lard.jpg (39 KB, 612x612)

39 KB JPG

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>5689935
Come on gainer, you can do this
>Rolling for Fatso

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>5689935
>Rolling for Enokida
Lets see what type of battle this is.

>>5689940
>>5689958
For a man of his weight, Fatso Chin is incredibly light on his feet, bobbing and weaving like he's walking on air. His opponent, Enokida, is sleek and acrobatic, moving with an almost ethereal grace. You lean on the edge of your sat and watch carefully, as she suddenly stops fanning herself and lunges like a cobra with a vicious "HIYAH!" She flicks the fan out and as the outer edge glints in the light, you realize it's a blade.

She slashes in a furious maze of blurred iron but her opponent laughs and zigzags backward, evading her strikes entirely. He jokingly rubs his stomach and grins, which infuriates her into another lunge, and this time, she catches him off-guard with a feint and slashes open his face. Now, he's serious and moves his fists in a wild flurry of light punches, which she dodges. This back and forth continues for several minutes, in which you notice that Fatso Chin's belt has an unusually shiny buckle, and you're beginning to think it'll continue when, suddenly, he turns his wrist at the last second during a punch and whips a pair of nunchaku out of his sleeve!

The sudden radical change of style surprises Enokida and allows him to get in a few blows on her face and sides. From there, the tempo of the fight changes and he's able to outmanuever the warrior woman, batting the fan out of her hand and slipping behind to choke her with his nunchucks. He holds her there for several tense seconds as she tries to escape, clawing at his arms, but his bulk is too much and in the end she finally hisses. "...I yield." When Fatso Chin releases her, she drops to the ground and pants with exhaustion, battered and bleeding. He offers his hand to help her up and she refuses in a huff, snatching up her fan and leaving the ring. Fatso Chin laughs as she goes and bows several times for the audience, before slipping his nunchucku back in their hidden sheath and returning to his seat.

"And the victor is... FATSO CHIN!"

>(1/2)

>>5689975
There is a fifteen minute intermission between fights, allowing money to change hands and fighters to brace themselves for their upcoming match. It passes by like seconds and the crowd, including yourself, goes silent with anticipation.

"SECOND MATCH!"

"WAN XUEGANG AND SAUTEUR!"

At his word, two more fighters leap into the ring. One of them you've already met, and his expression as he snuffs out his cigarette with his boot is deadly serious. His opponent is small and wiry but has a steely gaze and shifts into a stance with such fluid pose it's like a bird taking flight. You have no doubt Sauteur is a tough customer but you remember that Oishi warned you about Wan Xuegang. This is anyone's game.

>1d100 for Wan Xuegang to FIGHT
>1d100 for Sauteur to FIGHT

>(2/2)

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>5689976
Montjoie Saint Denis!
>rolling for sauteur

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>5689976
>Rolling for Wan Xuegang
Okay Frenchie, let's see you beat this manlet down. Are there any men left in France, or only pansies?

>>5689977
>>5689978
He did it, nice.

>>5689977
>>5689978
This pair moves completely differently than the first two contestants. Where earlier the fighters were almost dancing, now they crouch and move cautiously, meticulously analyzing each other's every movement. The tension in the air thickens until it's almost smothering, and then is shattered in an instant by the Frenchman's shout. "MONTJOIE SAINT DENIS!" He explodes forward and makes a rapid straight high-kick for the martial artist's skull. Wan Xuegang ducks the blow and dodges the next with practiced speed as Sauteur's momentum carries him forward.

The Earthworlder tries for a third kick but the local anticipates it and catches his leg in a textbook arm-bar! Wan Xuegang flexes his shoulders to break his femur but Sauteur's loose footing helps him slip partway free, delaying the fracture long enough for him to make a vicious openhanded slap to his opponent's face! This distracts the martial artist for a fraction of a second as his foe slams his heel into his ankle. Wan Xuegang releases to avoid a break and attempts to shift into his stance, which would've been one smooth, half-second motion if Sauteur hadn't made a lightning-fast pirouette and slipped the martial artist's legs out from under him.

This causes Wan Xuegang to fall and as he expertly catches himself and uses the momentum to spring into an upward attack, the Frenchman is preparing his own. A combo of violent kicks and one more slap ensues before the martial artist comes up with a precise uppercut which Sauteur evades by inches. They both go to square up again but as Wan Xuegang takes a step to fight, his leg goes limp, and he winces and relaxes his stance. "Aagh, your unfamiliar style has bested me, outsider. I yield, and have much more to learn." The Frenchman watches him for a second, then lowers his guard and sneers. "Vous le faites certainement. I accept." The martial artist bows and limps off to a different part of the mansion, though his victor returns to his seat. You smile and punch at the air. "Atta man, Frenchie. Show these tojos how it's done on Earth!"

"And the victor is... SAUTEUR!"

>(1/2)

>>5689990
The intermission somehow feels shorter than the first as your fight comes closer and your heart starts beating faster in your chest.

"THIRD MATCH!"

"BLIZZARD AND KARASU!"

At the now-familiar command, two more fighters leap into the ring. One is a big, bulky and ghostly-pale bruiser in gray robes that'd make an excellent linebacker if it weren't for the nub horns that'd keep him from fitting in a helmet. The other you recognize, the ninja from earlier outside. You have no idea what either of them are capable of but if you're lucky, you'll have to fight whoever wins here so you pay close attention.

>1d100 for Blizzard to FIGHT
>1d100 for Karasu to FIGHT

>(2/2)

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>5689991
>Rolling for Blizzard
Here's hoping he doesn't get iced

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>5689991
Rolling for Karasu
>>5689998
Kek, one might say he failed to properly break the ice.

>>5690000
>>5689998
This is hysterical

>>5690000
Match of the century
>Local mall ninja slips on ice cube

>>5690000
Nice quads. This match is going to be glorious.

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>Karasuma's fate lies in question...
>1-50: Life
>51-100: Death

>>5690030
>nat 100
Bro is a complete goner