The Ibis Gazes also into You (Archer, Trog, and Death)

Bliss gave Archer his instruction and to say the least they were not what he had expected to get, not in a million years. Being paired up with two people, let alone strangers, was also not exactly ideal either but it really could not be helped. He looked to be teamed up with a gigantic Neanderthal and someone with a fetish for skulls, odd but he had seen much more odd things in his time taking pictures of super-people. “So, it looks like we’re all together. My name is Archer Roland and I’ll be helping however I can to take down this ‘Ibis’ monster,” Archer was not sure if he had heard of Ibis or not, it seemed like a typical villain name to him.

Looking around he saw a line of Jeeps parked to the side for the officers to use so they could get from one place to the other in less time but they were mostly being ignored in the commotion. “You two, I think I have an idea,” Archer said as he signaled for the two of them to follow him as he made his way to the vehicles, being as inconspicuous as he possibly could. The officers around them all but made any indication that they cared what Archer and the other two were doing. Getting in the Jeep Archer cranked the engine with the key that had just been left in the ignition.

“I guess it’s time to get this show on the road,” he said to his two companions. The vehicle moved forward and onward, leading them onward to their adventure that was sure to unfold before them. At this moment Archer tried not to think of the number of times he would die on this trip but rather tried to focus on the people he could wind up saving on the journey, which seemed to calm him down a little bit. “Are you guys ready?” Archer asked with a casual grin, lying had become one of Archer’s talents in recent years.

Gwharr snorted sourly and kept grunting in an annoyed fashion. It was pretty obvious that the Primitive, Prehistoric Primordial was Particurlarly Perturbed about this whole arrangement. was not exactly pleased about having been sent away from Blisses side to hunt down some sort of thingamajig. Even though he liked hunting down enemies and ripping their hearts out and devouring them in, he had expected Bliss to acompany him as he did this. Sure, judged from what he'd seen of her fighting thus far, she'd probably get captured and tied up pretty much as soon as she entered the fray, as she usually did, but Gwharr always saved her and protected her. Then the pair would charge into the enemy and bring them down with fists of fury and Ice of Irritation. Despite it all, she was a good person to hunt with, heck in the Sluggish, Simian Sourpuss mind they were in the same pack, and the pack aren't supposed to split up. That was how packs worked!

Still, hunting down this 'Ibis'-creature shouldn't be all that difficult. Especially not with Skullface and the other guy helping him. He had no idea what an 'Ibis' was, but he assumed it would be something like any of the other superthings he had fought. Probably like the "Stretchy, Living Dead man", "Evil sorceress woman of magic" or "Iron arm man". In fact the sorceres and her flying father-killer buddy had dropped subservient soldiers on top of them in the park, so it was probably something akin to them. Anyway, whoever this 'Ibis'-thing was, he was probably the only one that he would trust to take him out. He had not gotten much reassurance about his teammates, Even though Bliss had sent them along with him to aid in his mission. However, he could not completely shake the feeling that he had been sent of into the corner with the other useless kids so that they wouldn't be in the way. The faces of his 'companions' did not do much to shake this conviction.

The Skull-face-man radiated coldness and maliciousness through every movement and glare. But he also smelled of 'science', It was faint, but the sweat from his pores was laced with it, and so was the breath coming out of his lungs stank of science. He was somehow artifical, unreal and not a proper lifeform. This made The hairs on Gwharrs neck rise, normally he would have put an end to this abomination as soon as he could get his hands on it, but Bliss thought it would help him. She was the smart one, and he had to trust in her wisdom.

The other one did not fill him with the same feeling of dread and disgust as the one with the skull-faced man did. In fact, this one was indistinguishable from the normal citizens of the City of light. Sure, he was slightly bigger than the average male, but he did not look very 'special' at all. In fact, he had the type of face that would be best described as 'easily forgettable'. He had not seen any proof of superhuman abilities in him too. He was uncertain what the point of this man would be . . .

Still, the ordinary man seemed to be the one taking charge, leading the trio on in their misson. Gwharr did not mind this, since it would give him a chance to see what manner of person he was. Gwharrs noted that he said he would do whatever he could to take this Ibis-Person down, and that was good news to him. He liked his dedication and decided he would honor the poor guy with an answer, despite beeing a grouchy sourpuss.
"To be The Primordial! To be strong! Strongest! To hunt down Ib-biss! Rip his heart out and eat it!" he said, before beating his chest violently, sending a bloodthirsty, bestial roar in the direction of the opposing army. The closest thing a caveman could come of a declaration of war. It would be dishonorable to start in any other way.

The little group of warriors then walked out, starting their quest to end ibis, quite similarly to the way a certain hobbit had to leave rivendell to destroy a certain artifact of doom. However, the Terrible Trio did not have to walk long before the ordinary little guy 'requisitioned' a veichle. Gwharr chuckled at the prospects of riding it. He liked the speed of these things. The way the houses and people swished by him and the way the wind felt in his hair. He had to admit that this fellow had already managed to raise Gwharrs opinion of him.

climbed in behind the driver, where there was a small area, supposedly intended for cargo wich he could occupy somewhat comfortably. Trying to fit into the front seat would be a hopeless endevour. He adjusted his ample backside to achieve maximum comfort before reaching out and uprooting a nearby lamp-post, braking it in half, so that it would make a servicable club in case he needed one. "Primordial ready to go! Hunt-hunt! Crush-Kill!" The Big, Boisterous, Brutish Bruiser Boasted.

Project Death listened to what Bliss had said with mild interest, ignoring everyone else in the room as he waited for her to do as he asked and take him out and to Ibis. What he requested somewhat happened, it seemed she did plan on giving him the location of his ‘brother’ but not in the way he assumed she would. It seemed the escapee wanted him, Проект Смерть, to fight alongside a caveman and normal human. This would not do, this would not do at all, and The Destroyer had to take out Ibis by himself if his ‘family’ was to ever accept him again yet if they knew the location of the monster then he would follow them until the location was reached. Once there though Death would surely take it upon himself to face Ibis by himself and the two could stand and watch for all he cared, which he honestly did not.

The human speaks and Death stands there silent as the caveman, whom after closer examination he was able to tell was the same one who fought against Ibis not to long ago, answered in his own way. One taught not to be rude simply spoke shortly, “I am Project Death….and once you lead me to Ibis you shall leave me and him be.” With that he pulled his hood back over his head and followed slowly after the two he was ‘told’ to go with watching as they took it upon themselves to enter a car, something Death would never do as he distrusted the things as far as he could throw them. And throw them he could, threw one pretty damn far one day when he was still just learning and could probably do much better now a days. So, instead of getting into the car like the other two he chose to stand beside the vehicle and simply looked on ahead, silent and deadly, when the human asked if he was ready to go. Of course he was ready to go, did the mortal not know that once the Hero Killer was assigned a task he was able to do so without hesitation?

((Due to archer missing and being reported as "taking a break" Me and death will get on with this without him untill he returns.))

as the jeep drove on, Gwharr stood up as straight as he could, his massive, trashcan-lid-sized hands holding onto the seats in front of him so hard that the faux-leather in the unoccupied passenger-seat actually ripped apart. Even though our Tough, Troublesome Tribal was undoubtedly occupying a position on the top three list of the most invulnerable creatures in the world Gwharr still had the rather strange reflex to hold on to something when the car went fast. It was slightly scary, but the scariness was completely offset by the joy he was feeling. He liked the speed, and he loved the feeling of the wind blowing through his hair, and the woosh of air in his ears. He was so excited about this that he did not even mind the occasional insect that managed to fly straight into his gaping maw. Yes, this society had ruined his life and his culture with all its nonsense and science that exploded and killed his fellow monarchs, but right now he was on the verge of temporarily forgiving the "world of light" since they had managed to crate something so awesome as this strange-looking veichle.

However, Gwharr was an imortal, and thus he was more intimately aware of the expression "all good things must come to an end", than the average citizen of New York, so when he saw the ruins of a collapsed building lying across the street he understood that it was time to bid his beloved jeep a fond farewell. However, since he did not like to look like a soppy wimp in front of skeletor and the normal guy, he decided against it, even though he'd like to give the veichle an affectionate pat on the hood. He quickly got of the jeep, causing the car to bounce slightly as the spring was suddenly relieved of his half-a-ton frame. He motioned for Archer to drive around the ruins. It seemed like most of little tentacle-boys had either been eradicated or abandoned this side of town at any rate.

Gwharr squatted down and with a great leap, the Big, Boisterous, Bumbling, Brutish Bruiser flew over the assorted with about as much grace as a particurlarly craggy boulder launched from a slightly defective catapult. From the air he could see the distant silhouettes of a group of four creatures approaching. Far bigger than the tentacle-boys had been, but not nearly as fast. In fact their method of locomotion seemed strangely familiar for some reason. . .

Gwharrs heart took a leap of joy as he saw this. Tougher opponents meant that he was getting closer to the heart of the problem, and thus he would be able to find, fight and kill this Ibis-person that Bliss had wanted dead. He hoped it wasn't too far now. He wanted to kill the evil warrior so that he could return to Blisses base in triumph. After all was said and done she would see that he was her most powerfull as well as her most usefull ally. Heck, if he did this, he would take over leadership. . . for a while. . . Gwharr tended to get bored with leadership. It was great in theory, but in practice. . . not too much.

Project Death ran as fast as he could to keep up with the jeep but could not stay along side of it. He knew this of course when he started out beside it but in his mind even going along side of these two was more help than he believed he needed. So, as it went ‘flying’ down the roads the Hero Killer raced after them as fast as his superhuman legs could carry him which in all honesty was pretty fast, but nowhere near car fast. It was a good thing he could probably run around the entire Earth at least five times before getting tired and needing to stop and catch his breath or he wouldn’t be doing this right now. After a while he caught up to the stopped car only to notice the contraption had stopped and the caveman got out of it.

Death wondered what was going on as the mortal, the one called Archer, got out and drove off to go around the fallen buildings. When the caveman jumped up into the air he too got down into a crouched position then flung himself into the air like a spring, using all of his strength to hurtle above the ground and up to as high as he could carry himself. Sure he didn’t go as high up as the caveman but it was enough to see exactly what he needed, the next wave of the Good Doctor’s clones the ones, if he remembered correctly, cloned exactly from the caveman he was now following towards the location of Ibis.

He jumped once more, not as strong though, and landed next to the caveman speaking once again in his dark voice, “Those we are about to face are stronger than the last, you must be ready to kill those closest to you if you hope to defeat them.” He gave no warning and no explanation when he finished just jumped out and went flying down to the ground, landing only feet in front of the giant Caveman clones, cracking his knuckles he got into a flawless fighting stance ready to fight these nearly un-killable creatures. Note the nearly though, for nothing is un-killable to him, he is the Hero Killer, the Destroyer, his is Death and all will fall before his hands….even Ibis.
((so we don't forgett
Gwharr Clones
Strength: 6
Speed: 1
Durability: 6
Intelligence: 0
Energy Projection: 3 (Healing)
Fighting Skills: 2

Chaos Clones
Strength: 4
Speed: 3
Durability: 3
Intelligence: 0
Energy Projections: 3 (Tentacles)
Fighting Skills: 1

As Gwharr flew through the air like a smelly bag of strangely humanoid-shaped garbage, he noticed a someone else flying in the same manner beneath him. It was that fellow they all called skeletor. His cape fluttered in the wind and so would his hair have done if he had taken of that stupid cloak of his. Gwharr snorted proudly. This skeletor-fellow obviously had no taste for aesthetics. when you super-leap your hair has GOTTA flutter in the wind.

He landed with a massive thud, causing the asphalt beneath him to crack and sink a few inches into the ground due to his four-didgit bodymass. Death seemed to land in a less dramatic manner just a second or two after him, due to his shorter, more well-planned jump. As he laid eyes on the shapes again, it seemed as if they where on the verge of attacking them. Due to the harsh glare of the midday sun in his eyes, he could only make out their rough silhouettes, but there was still something very familiar about the way they moved, using their arms as much as their legs for locomation, Knucklewalking like an ape, but not quite. The movement was well-known to him, yet he could not really remember having met anyone with a movement quite like this. . .

Then it struck him, like a laundry-bag full of jagged bricks. He had never met anyone with this particurlar way of moving about since he had never really met anyone like himself before. Even amongst other neanderthals he had been an oddity, the sore thumb that stuck out, but now, with these newcommers, he had finally found his own kind. His true people. Gwharrs jaw opened and he gazed upon the charging creatures as they approached them, and the caveman slowly approached them, carefully and hesitantly, not because he was expecting trouble, but because he was afraid this was yet another dream, and if he moved too carelessly he might wake up. . .

The creatures looked just likeh im. A bit shorter and slightly thinner, but they still had the same features. The massive jaw, the small, piglike eyes and the mane of thick red hair and the thick beards that hung from their faces. "My brothers, I have finally found you! Oh, how I have missed you." Gwharr said in a language so old that it had no name, his deep, vestial voice trembling. It was the language of the tribe of long-dead neanderthals that Gwharr had been born into. Tears flowed from the soppy eyes of the Wellbuilt, Weepy Warrior as he aproached them, hands held out as he was ready to embrace his lost kin.

However, all he was not met by the embrace he had yearned for. But rather a hostile roar and a massive, superpowered punch to the face that sent even a being so massive as Gwharr hurtlingh through the air, before he crashed into an abandoned car, finally comming to a stop. He got up to his feet, whilst gazing at the one whom he thought of as his brothers. Why did the hit him? Why would they not let this wayward brother of theirs join with them? He took two hesitant steps towards them, his face a mix between desperate longing and horrible confusion. Then they where over him. One of them leaped and crashed into him, knocking him off his feet, whilst three of the others followed, trying to tear his flesh and crush his bones. . . Normally our Brutish, boisterous bruiser would try to crush them, rip them apart and eat their bones, but he could simply not bring him to hurt his own kin, so he just lay there, not a clue what he was going to do. Luckily his sheer toughness was greater than their strength, so they did not cause much serious damage, and the damage they cause, his regenerative abilities dealt with pretty much imediately.

When Death landed he expected a fight to the death, theirs of course, with the caveman clones but this is not at all what happened. The foolish beast spoke in some strange language to his clones as if he expected them to not fight; this of course had to be one of the displays of emotion Astrid had been trying to teach him. With a raised eyebrow he simply watched as the beasts sent the original flying backwards into a car and then ‘chased’ after him. Oh, it was a site to behold for he had never seen creatures as strong as he besides Ibis and Project Perfection and he was tempted to sit and wait out the fight to see if the caveman would fight back. Yet, after a while it became apparent that he was indeed not going to do a damn thing.

It seemed once again Project Death would have to do all the work and so he silently strode off up to the closest clone and grabbed him around the mouth silencing the beast. Before it even had time to react it was thrown into the air as high up and far as the Hero Killer could throw him. He didn’t wait and see what became of the beast, though he knew it was not yet dead, for he had other matters to attend to. A second beast caught sight of him and beat its gnarly chest snarling and throwing a lumbering punch at him although he easily dodged and threw out two of his own punched. The beast only grunted as it was hit as if it barely did anything, and as soon as it was administered it seemed to heal as if nothing had happened.

Death was obviously not amused with this and knew something had to be done so when next the beast threw out a slow and lumbering punch he caught the fist in his own two hands and swung him with all his might. The caveman clone was sent flying into the broken down building, that Death had recently jumped over, with a crash and as the Destroyer was about to chase after him the first clone he had come against landed in between him and the building sending out a slight fissure of sorts. Stumbling only slightly Death dropped to the ground and swung out his legs at the giant thing, knocking it off balance and then watching as it fell to the ground with a crash. Grudgingly and slowly it began to get up but Death was having none of this, his fist went flying into the things face knocking it unconscious….for now.

Gwharr could feel the powerfull blows against the body. They punched him so hard so that they literally smashed him into the earth, causing him to dig out his own little 'grave'. Some of them tried to tear at his flesh, but barely managed to break the skin. The tears sealed themselves as quickly as they where created. He had tried to reason with the ones he had thought of as his kin, but he had gotten nothing back but growls and roars. It was not that they did not want to speak to him, it was that they could not. Gwharr had never considered himself a particurlarly bright individual, but these things, they where all but mindless. He had not seen even one thing that indicated that they even had sentience. It was true that he had killed people in a manner reminscent of this, but he was always very carefull about giving them a warning. Run or submit. A roar or a grunt of some sort to make sure they understood and accepted what was at stake here. These creatures had given no such warning either, and even the most primal beast had some way of warning rivals and enemies to stand back. Gwharr sobbed slightly. He had wanted this to be true so bad, that he had forgotten that something was fishy around here. These craetures was probably some sort of trickery. . .

They even had a mild scent of science comming from them. Similarly to the one in the skeleton-mask wich he had joined forces with. It was faint, but it was there. It was tainting the air they exhaled, the sweat from their pores was also tinted with the stuff. In fact, all the liquids in their body seemed to be scientific. Gwharr would normally not have noticed such a subtle taint, but the fact that their scent was so much like his own, that it was all but undetectable to him made it easy to single it out. Gwharr sobbed once again. He thought he had found the home he had looked for when the world was still new and exciting, but alas, these were not his people. In a twisted, rather sad way they where him. Copies.

A sharp pain in his eye cuased Gwharr to harken back to reality. the copies pinning him down where strong, but like most superhumanly strong people, their strength was unproportional to their weight, thus causing their collective strength to be rendered obsolete by their lack of weight. Gwharr felt their feeble attempt at resistance as he struggled to get up. Collectively the four of them where stronger than him, but due to fact that they barely reached a total of 2300 pounds, he could easily push them back. He rose to his feet glaring at the clones from a single, eye, the tears flowing from it. The other one eye had been crushed by a vicious finger, and from the socket where it had once been a steady stream of dark crimsom blood was flowing, making it look as if he cried blood.

The caveman sniffled. as he raised his fists. One of the clones leaped at him, but he telegraphed his move so obviously that the caveman had no problem catching him by the throat with one of his oversized mitts and hurl him back at his 'brothers', where he landded face-down and quickly began to sprawl to his feet, whilst the other clones readied themselves to attack him.

"To not attack! We the same! To be you'se brother!" The caveman pleaded as the cavemen once more leapt at him, trying to once again pin him to the ground. . .

Unconsciousness, something that these clones did not deserve they deserved worse and the only reason being because they attacked Death. His own family, members of the Project just like himself and yet they still attacked he would have none of this. So looking down at the unconscious caveman clone he took his fists and pumpbled its chest as hard as he could, making sure that the healing focused on that and that alone. When he deemed enough he grabbed the skin of the beast and ripped with all his might, tearing the chest open and breaking the ribs he reached down pulling the ‘heart of the beast’ out and squishing it in his palms with as much force as he could muster. With one down he dropped the heart and turned back to look at the caveman he followed here to see him in a horrible situation.

“You fool! They are not real; they have no minds of their own kill them!” The Destroyer spoke as he sprinted out and grabbed two of Gwharr’s attackers by their necks and using all his might smashed their heads together trying to knock them unconscious as he did the one before them. This succeeded somewhat but as he was about to deliver punches to the others attacking the real caveman the first clone had somehow gotten up behind him and grabbed him by his head and slammed him into the ground. With a groan Death spat out dirt and tried to push himself up only to feel a foot slam into his back, this was as much disgrace as he was willing to take from these Project Perfection family members. He moved with amazing speed as the foot came down again, rolling out of the way he jumped up and cocked his fist back delivering a bone shattering, building shaking, punch to the jaw of the caveman clone.

The success was short lived as the jaw slowly started to reform and Gwharr seemed to not have made any movement to help fight these damn things. So, Death was once again left alone to fight off the anything and everything that threatened to get in the way of his goals, which in his mind were also the goals of ‘the family’, and nothing got in their way. When the caveman clone sent a punch out at him he caught said punch with both hands and sent him flying at the sides of the other clones that were still attacking Gwharr. The three were sent flying off to the side if not from the strength behind Death’s throw then because of all their weight combined together. These slow lumbering beasts were no match for Death and he knew that but he also knew that it was nearly impossible to kill these things as well. So, if he and the caveman wanted to get any success done they would have to act fast, and they would have to do so together.

Gwharr shrieked as three of the cloned caveman were once again over him. He desperately wanted them to stop this madness, to accept him and join his pack. He had never once thought that this was the way in wich his people would treat him as they met for the first time. Granted, he did not expect them to love him instantaneously, but he had hoped for a chance to prove himself to them before being killed.

In the corner of his eye he saw a sapertooth tiger attack one of the cavemen, although he quickly wrote this off as a consequence of too many blows to the head. Everyone knew Sabertooth cats had gone extinct, even him! Unfortunately, the Irony of him being a supposedly extinct caveman refusing to believe the irrefutable proof of meeting a supposedly extinct sabertooth tiger passed him by.

However, the sabertooth did one thing. It woke him up from his sentimental stupor. He couldn't just lie around taking this. He had to defend himself.

"TO STOP FIGHTING NOW!!" The Brutish, Busted-up Beast howled at the top of his lungs to his "Brothers". They tried to rip him apart since they percieved him as the wekest. He had deliberately avoided to hurt any one of them seriously, but this was it. He had his own honor to think about, and he was not going to let himself get smashed up by a bunch of second-rate, science-spawned versions of him. He had given them every oppurtunity to cease and desist, heck, he even offered to join them in their mission, but they were either unwilling or simply unable to decline. They had ripped his skin, drawn his blood, pulled his hair and crushed his eye into goo. . . Given the circumstances he had been shockingly nice. . .

However, this was it, he was done with trying to befreind these people. No more mister nice guy! Time to bring out the big guns!

Gwharr took a deep breath, trying to harden his heart against the acts wich he would have to perform. He had learned to kill early in his life, but the ones he had killed had always been different, smaller, thinner and ugly, looking nothing like him. However, these things still looked like they could be his brothers, despite being all but entierly brainless. He closed his eyes and roared viciously as he grabbed the hair of one of the three creatures standing over him, pulling him down to his level. Gwharr was crying as he did what he thought he had to do. The beast was screaming and roaring like a wild thing, as Gwharr placed a hand on the other side of the captured creatures head, closed his eyes and started to press his hands together, harder and harder. At first the creature shrieked and squealed madly, punching at Gwharr like a mad thing, but toon there was a moist, cracking sound, and the shrieking and fighting stopped something warm and wet poured over the cavemans hands. Despite having his eyes closed, he knew that it was the brains of the clone-creature he had just killed.

The body flopped to the ground, twitching slightly, its head missing. Gwharr felt his sorrow melt into a dark, red, hot bloodlust. His earlier love for his brethren turned to hatred. How DARED they look like him! How dared they play on his lifelong lonelyness and yearning for companionship. But there was one thing he barely wanted to admit to himself. One thing that hurt more than the rest. They had given him hope were he had none, and then they had crushed said hope befor him. . . .

He would destroy them all!!!

He howled in rage as he got to his feet, pushing the two remaining cavemen off him with disturbing ease. One of them tumbled into a nearby car, whilst the other just stumbled back a few feet before getting ready to resume the fight. However, due to the lack of resistance these brutes had faced from their progenitor thus far, they had become careless. The one closest to Gwharr did not even consider that the caveman would follow up on his initial attack this time either, so he did not even bother to dodge the blow that would follow. Gwharr was still howling as he rushed towards the creature, narrowly managing to duck under its initial, clumsy swing with its arm, before pushing up with his legs and his arm simultaneously, delivering the mother of all uppercuts, more than enough to send the poor clone flying, high above the buildings, in an almost cartoonish manner. He would probably land somewhere outside of the city, probably too far away to bother them again anytime soon, even if he survived.

However, Gwharr had no time to celebrate, as the last of his clones leapt onto his back, placing its hand around his throat in an attempt to strangle him. The clones seemed to be unused to fight anyone stronger and tougher than themselves since it had taken them this long ot figure out that strangulation was probably the best way to finish him. However, the clone made one miscalculation. . .

Gwharr grabbed ahold of the clones wrists, initially trying to wrest its hands away from his throat. However, the clone had gotten a good grip, and despite the superior strength of its Particurlarly Perturbed Progenitor it managed to keep its hands around the cavemans throat. Black spots started to dance in Gwharrs field of vision as he started to feel the consequences of oxygen-deprivation, but he had one trick left in his sleeve. The Grubby, Grunting, Giant stopped trying to pull the clones hands of his throat, instead he started to squeeze, and soon enough a loud *Snap* could be heard as the bones in its forearms were mercilessly crushed. Another snap followed soon, along with the shriek of the beaten creature.

Gwharr released his grip of the broken arms of the creature, as it stumbled backwards, looking at its hands that hung from its broken arms, uselessly twitching and flopping as it tried to move them. Gwharr could see the bones and muscles trying to knit themselves back together, but it seemed that the cloning-process had been even less successfull in reproducing his regeneration than it had been reproducing his strength and durability.

The creature was backing away as Gwharr sent out a massive arm, grabbing ahold of its leg, pulling it towards him, the pain of the clone distracting it from taking evasive manouvers. The broken creature fell on its back, and Gwharr was over it immedeately, punching it repeatedly in the chest. whilst roaring viciously, almost madly at it. After a while its ricage gave away, and the resulting crushed organs and ripped-apart muscles seemed to be too much for the creature and with a last spasm it shuffled of its mortal coil to go to whatever afterlife clones were allowed to enter.

Howver, this was not enough for Gwharr, he kept punching and soon he was literally ripping the dead monster apart, emerging victorious from his battle but seemingly too angry to calm down. rose to his feet once more beat his chest like a madman and roared at the sky like a wild beast.

Project Death turned to face the clones getting into a fighting position about to take on the other four that were left of these damn clones. Yet, he stopped half way as he saw something he did not at all expect to see first a beast out of legend jumps out of seemingly nowhere and takes out one of the clones. Then Gwharr himself gets up and takes out the other three of the remaining pseudo-cavemen as if they were made of nothing. It seemed that way too as well, for he simply ripped them to pieces and broke the beasts faster than he himself could have probably done so.

When the beast finished with his attackers the Hero Killer looked on over at the lion to see how it fared with the one clone it attacked. Not seeing much progress, as the clone continued to fight back, he stalked over to it and tapped the kitty on the back before nodding his head so it would move and he could take over. Not waiting to see its reaction he reached down and picked the beast up by his head and squeezed with all his might and flung the clone against the closest car. As soon as he flung him and heard the crash Death was off, knowing full well the thing could heal, he was upon him and smashed his fist into its face as hard as he possibly could.

No remorse was felt on the acts he preformed to this beast created by the family, it attacked him first and because of that it was going to die like all before it who crossed him and the family. When it looked up, face broken and bloody, he only drilled his fist into its face once more breaking its noise upon the impact. The false caveman reached up to grab him and kicked at him, the kick made him grunt but the hands made it no further as he flipped the caveman over his shoulders and on to the ground. Quickly turning on the beast he slammed his fist once more into its face, this time knocking it unconscious, and then grabbed it on each side of its damned head and squeezed as hard as he possibly could purple veins popping and bulging as he did so. With a grunting noise he finished off the head having squeezed it in two the beast as dead as dead could get now, this be the only thing he had intended to do.

With a nod of the head to the lion he stood back up to his full height of six foot five and looked to where it came from, seeing the shilluet of what he presumed to be a young lady out by the building of which he came from. Choosing to ignore it than anything else he walks over to the real Gwharr and looks up to the beast not noticing his cloak is ripped and scarred from the fights, he spits to the side and crosses his arms. “Caveman….we must continue Ibis approaches; the beast will learn defeat as I have before it.” He spoke in his dark, forsaken voice having never spoken as much in one day as he has today.

The caveman kept on beating his chest, his mouth letting out a loud roar so bestial that it was hard to imagine it comming out of anything even resembling a human throat. He surveyed the field of battle. A carnage-strewn wasteland of broken bricks and cracked asphalt, covered with blood-splatters and horribly wrecked and mangled bodies. Bodies that even after their very graphically gratinous death and mutilation looked oh so much like slightly scaled down versions of him. This made him want to roar even louder. . .

However, Gwharr's roar was cut short with a somewhat undramatic gasp for air. In his rage against all things scientific in general and his hostile clones specificaly he had forgotten to breathe in for quite a while. The tears that had streamed down onto his cheeks and into his beard for the duration of the entire battle had subsided, even though their paths could still be seen on Gwharrs cheeks, streaked in blood on his right side, where his eye had been crushed into goo, but thanks to the miraculous regenerative abilities of our Brawlin, Brutally Berserking Bruiser it had already regrown, and apart from the blood trailing down his cheek it was as if he had never gotten injured.

As he had managed to calm himself down enough to a level where he did not mercilessly smash everything nearby into atoms, he was still far from calm. He was panting heavily, his watermelon-sized fists clenching and unclenching as his eyes darted back and forth in search of another object that might be deserving of his wrath. He first laid eyes on the sabertooth cat, causing a whole lot of old memories to bubble up into his head. These beasts had never been a threat to him, personally, but many of his friends had fallen prey to the stealthy hunters. However, he decided against attacking the beast when he noticed it was standing on a one of his dead clones. It was on his side after all.

However, all thoughts of violence was purged from his mind when his blue eyes finally locked onto the dimunitive woman who walked towards them with an almost unnatural grace to her step. Gwharr usually found thinling girls rather unattractive, but there was something about this one that made her beautiful, even in his eyes. It was not her physical form, but something that radiated out of her, like an inner, almost divine light. Just being near her had a soothing effect on the massive caveman, and for a few seconds he wondered if she was a goddess of some sorts. The shaman of his old tribe had told him of a nature-spirit that brought the dead to her and blessed them with sunlight, fruits and vegetables. He had never really given it much thought, but maybe he had finally met her.

"You. . .You are beautiful." the caveman said, his inhumanly deep voice uncharacteristically calm and almost awestruck. . .