Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26130256-20150806184438/@comment-26130256-20150922051223

(Forgive the god-modding, but you did want epic finishing blows.  Ask and ye shall recieve...)

Trigo gritted his teeth through the series of slashes. Even though his combat suit could shrug off knives and small bullets, this phantom was hitting hard enough to burn a goodly amount of Aura. It was rapidly approaching time to end this.

Reaching behind his back with Destra and Sestra, he blocked the shaft of the giant axe and slid the shotguns forward to lock with the blade. Using all of his drunken strength, he threw his arms forward and stood up at the same time. It was either going to be a contest between Trigo's muscle and the phantom's grip strength (throwing his axe out of his hands), or Trigo's muscle and the phantom's mass (possibly throwing the vigilante over his shoulder like so many sacks of potatoes). If Jack-o-lantern didn't want to let go, he was coming along for the ride.

Trigo smiled at the airborne form of the phantom, now a sitting duck for the four high-explosive shells he quickly loaded and fired, hitting the target as easily as a clay pidgeon. Against a skilled opponent, there was no such thing as overkill. He walked back over to the recently-landed enemy and pointed all four barrels at him, smiling like a madman.

"Goodnight fatty.  Did I say it to your satisfaction?"