Suggested By GuardianAngel1911
For this battle there will be 2 rounds.
Round 1 will have Ganondorf in his current incarnation and round 2 will b the composite version.
Can Harry take on both versions?
Harry Dresden Vs Ganondorf
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Author: Hitman H94 View all posts by Hitman H94
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Hmmm, could be a tough match
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Dresden does have the means to harm Ganondorf with dat Soulfire or w/e as well as some decent DC, but Ganondorf has enormous endurance and is physically superior to Dresden, coupled with more broken powers like polymorphing, soul rape (although Dresden has incredible willpower to defend from that) and dimensional banishment
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As for round 1, which Ganondorf exactly? Theres 3 “current” versions, LoZ (teh original one), FSA or WW Ganon. Pick one
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Meh, im kind of on the fence for this one
Like StealthRanger, I’ll wait until Ganondorf is selected from one of the three games. I take it the strongest incarnation will be used, though.
Hm…this looks like it could be an interesting match.
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Third verse, same as the first two.
All bets on the spellcaster.
Doesn’t Ganondorf have a plot device for defense or something? “Can only be slain by the Blade of Evil’s Bane” or something? Would this put Dresden out of the running?
No plot shields man that only works on starwars and I’m going with harry on this one
“Evil’s Bane” is a touchy subject. Some would call that a no limits fallacy, others think it might be justified, seeing how normal weapons don’t hurt him and elemental magic doesn’t bother him. Light arrows stun him, with no permanent damage. The evidence is there, but still. People don’t like it.
@Dr. Doctor:
“Doesn’t Ganondorf have a plot device for defense or something? “Can only be slain by the Blade of Evil’s Bane” or something? Would this put Dresden out of the running?”
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Technically, Ganondorf is the incarnation of Demise’s hatred. This can be taken in one of two ways. He is a hypostasis, an abstract thing (hatred in this case) that has been concreticized. This doesn’t mean he embodies hatred, but is hatred.
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The second way is that Ganondorf simply embodies hatred, just as a holy man embodies holiness. In other words, Ganondorf could be the incarnation of hatred without actually being hatred itself.
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If the former, only things with evil’s bane can harm him. If the latter, conventional things can harm him, but evil’s bane is most effective. The folly about characters who make statements about themselves is simply just that: statements.
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The other folly is when this assertion is made by someone who isn’t omniscient doesn’t prove anything. It really comes down to the discussion of no-limits fallacy and if a character should be understood that way.
By the way, a hypostasis isn’t the same as a personification. Personifications are treated as persons, although simply remaining in the realm of literary work. Hypostases are actually abstract things that are made into substance, i.e., being.
@Zol
Thank you.
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Since part 1 we need to know which CI is CI, we can’t argue that as much yet, but I guess we can go for a Composite ‘Dorf right now. Anyone got any feats for him?
@Protomind:
Thank you too, you ninja’d me xD
No problem.
Demise was more or less a god, right? If a god were to reincarnate, how does that work?
Okay on the Evil’s Bane thing, in the book Small Favor Dresden was given the power of the Archangels, Soulfire, when he uses it it seems to cause a bit of extra damage to demons Fallen Angels, most supernatural creatures in general, and things that are evil.
a sample of Soulfire
“His left hand returned to rummaging in his bag, while his mortal eyes went back to the now-scattered remnants of the spell, evidently dismissing my existence. The green eyes remained focused on me, though, and darkness suddenly gathered around the forefinger of his upraised right hand.
Time slowed down.
Dark light leapt toward me.
Sheer defiance made me step forward, trying to brush past the little spinning columns of shadow that surrounded me, only to find them as solid as steel bars, and colder than a yeti’s fridge. I threw my magic against those bars to no avail as a shaft of dark lightning streaked toward my heart.
Something happened.
I don’t know how to describe it. I was trying to slam another bolt of force between the bars of my conjured prison when something…else…got involved. Ever been carrying something and had someone intentionally, unexpectedly jostle your elbow? It felt something like that-a tiny but critically timed nudge just as I threw my will into a last futile effort of defiance.
Power screamed as it wrenched its way out of my body. It shattered the black-thread bars of my prison and left a streak of metallic light on the air behind it for an instant, reflective, like a trail of liquid chrome. It caught the falling Denarian in a massive silvery simulacrum of my own fist.
I actually felt my fingers close over the gaunt, skeletal, grey-skinned figure, felt the numerous spurs of bone jutting from its joints press painfully into my flesh. I flung it away from me with a cry, and the huge silver hand flung the Denarian into the nearest wall, ripping through several feet of expensive stone terracing and carefully simulated Pacific Northwest.
I stared for a second, first at the stunned Denarian, and then at my own spread fingers-and at the floating silvery hand beyond, mirroring my movements. Then the skeletal Denarian gathered itself and rose, fast as hell-until I shoved the heel of my hand forward and drove his bony ass six inches into the wall of rock behind him.
“Oh, yeah, baby!” I heard myself howl, elated. “Talk to the hand!”
I picked up the thorny fiend by a leg and laughed as it raked and bit and scrabbled at the construct that held it. I could feel the pain of it-but it was a small thing, really, something I might have gotten from a rat. Unpleasant as hell, but I’d felt much, much worse, and it was nothing compared to the agony of the power still burning inside me. I slammed him into the wall again, then swung him twenty feet through the air, shoved him through a pane of unbroken three-inch-thick glass on the outer wall of the Oceanarium, drew him back through, and then rammed him through the next one, and the next one, and the one after that, cutting him to tatters as I did.”
Small Favor, Chap 30
later on said Fallen Angels very pissed off comment where he channels Frieza talking to Goku and calls Dresden a monkey.
” “Insufferable, arrogant little monkey,” Namshiel hissed. “Playing with the [b[fires of creation[/b].
Binding your soul to it, as if you were one of us. How dare you so presume. How dare you
wield soulfire against me. I, who was there when your pathetic kind was hewn from the
muck.”
It wasn’t so much being strangled to death that I objected to, or even the megalomaniacal
monologue I was being subjected to in the process. I just wished that I knew what the hell
he was talking about. Granted, I had busted him up pretty good with that silver hand thing,
but he was taking it so freaking personally. “
hopefully the bolding thing worked but if not pay attention to the Fires of Creation part, still though, the power is pretty holy, and it fucked up the Fallen Angel regen all the Denarians (like Thorn boy here) have. Something that sometimes even assault rifles can’t do when you blow them into tiny chunks of monster.
and round 1 make it Twilight Princess version I suppose. Unless anyone has a better suggestion.
“I’m curious, debated Dresden vs Ganondorf before, would an Evils Bane shield nullify his attacks, and Evils Bane attacks break through his magic barriers due to their nature (like say Dresden’s soulfire spells) Cause I remember a gameplay video of one of the Links bouncing attacks back with the Master Sword”
~GA on the ‘topia
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I remember in “Ocarina of Time” Link bounced his electrical attacks back with the Master Sword. I can’t remember if the feat can be replicated with the Biggoron Sword, though; if it can, then Dresden might be able to find away to bounce electrical attacks back.
Dresden has redirected lightning magic before, so he should be good, I just saw the clip somewhere and didn’t know.
If Dresden putting Soulfire in his shield would nullify Ganons attacks it could give him a huge edge.
Since Soulfire seems to be an evils bane anyway.
some more Soulfire, and a bit of context on it. Basically Dresden walked into the heart of the power of the Red King (a Mayan god being and vampire) to get his daughter back, every red court vampire and their granny is there. Dresden does this
” “Arianna!” I called again. “You were too great a coward to accept my challenge when I
gave it to you in Edinburgh! Now I am here, in the heart of the power of the Red King! Do you
still fear to face me, coward?”
“What?” Thomas muttered under his breath.
“This is not an assault,” Sanya added, disapproval in his voice.
I ignored them. I was the one with the big voice. “You see what I have done to your
rabble!” I called. “How many more must die before you come out from behind them, Duchess?
I am come to kill you and claim my child! Stand forth, or I swear to you, upon the power in my
body and mind, that I will lay waste to your strong place. Before I die, I will make you pay the
price for every drop of blood—and when I die, my death curse will scatter the power of this
place to the winds!
“Arianna!” I bellowed, and I could not stop the hatred from making my voice sharply edged
with scorn and spite. “How many loyal servants of the Red King must die tonight? How many
Lords of Outer Night will taste mortality before the sun rises? You have only begun to know
the power I bring with me this night. For though I die, I swear to you this: I will not fall alone.”
I indulged in a little bit of melodrama at that point: I brought forth soulfire—enough to
sheath my body in silver light—as my oath rolled out over the land, through the ruins, and
bounced from tree to tree. It cast a harsh light that the nearest surviving vampires cringed
away from. ”
Dresden vampires aren’t repelled necessarily by holy stuff, it’s the faith and power you put into something note Dresden is not doing that, he’s just activating the Soulfire wreathing thing. It’s hurting the Vampires.
Also if Soulfire is Evils Bane, Dresden does the sheath himself in it thing if Ganondorf closes in to try cqc and Dresden starts beating the shit our of Ganondorf.
also if you want to talk about abstract things given bodies I can show you something abstract given a body. Dresden took it down at sixteen. Well took a beating then blew it the fuck up.
Ganondorf holding his castle up in OoT with TK, Harry goes splort.
well thats round 2 anyway. and only possibly since his castle wouldn’t be on the battlefield.
round 1 I said a little bit up above which version for it.
Dresden was able to resist TK from a Mayan God going by the arguments in Dresden vs Sephiroth, which could be a counter to Ganondorf’s TK
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So, which is the incarnation of Ganon being used for round 1?
“All bets on the spellcaster.”
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lol
Twilight Princess incarnation for round 1 unless there’s a better suggestion, I’m open to them.
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Yeah, the Red King was able to hold down an equally powerful (or damn close at least) being, Dresden, his dog, Molly, Susan, the Borimir type traitor character, Sanya, and Thomas (think that’s all he was holding could be wrong) while they were trying to get loose, and at the same time was getting ready for the human sacrifice Mayan style deal to do to Dresden’s daughter.
So there’s something at least.
I can go hunt for Dresden’s 75 kilojoule shield feat, if you want. Though the bracelets were burnt out after the elevator incident, so if he makes a shield that tanks 75 kilojoules of power, he would lose the shield, but be unharmed.
I don’t think his new shield burns out, it’s stronger, he may be able to tank more than than with his shield now.
but yeah please post it.
Also did you ever find that C4 calc?
No, sorry. I couldn’t find a source that agreed on how powerful any singular amount of TNT would be.
C4 doesn’t count because Lara powered it.
What about Ganondorf shaking the castle to pieces with TK?
Does Dresden get Winter Knight Armor among other things for the match?
Lara didn’t power it, the lust from the kiss did, just like Dresden uses his anger to fuel his fire he used the lust generated by the kiss to power the shield. Same concept different emotion. He could have kissed any woman that he had the hots for and the effect would have been the same.
Quote:
“There was a little groan from the elevator, and then it shuddered, and started sliding back down the shaft, no longer supported by the powerful but short-lived pillar of wind that had driven it up there. We were falling back down the way we had come, and I had the feeling that we weren’t going to have a much better time of it at the bottom than the scorpion had at the top.
Now was the time for the bracelet, and I didn’t waste a heartbeat grabbing Murphy close to me, and bringing the shield into being around us. I only had a couple of seconds to focus, to think – I couldn’t make the globe around us too brittle, too strong, or we’d just smash ourselves against the inside of it in the same way we would if we just rode the elevator down. There had to be some give to it, some flexibility, to distribute the tremendous force of the abrupt stop at the first floor.
It was dark, and there wasn’t much time. Murphy and I rose up to the center of the space of the elevator while I pushed the shield out all around us, filled up the space with layer after layer of flexible shielding, semicohesive molecules of air, patterns of force meant to spread the impact around. There was a sense of pressure all around me, as though I had been abruptly stuffed in Styrofoam packing peanuts.
We fell, faster and faster. I sensed the bottom of the shaft coming. There was an enormous sound, and I held on to the shield with all of my might.
When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on the floor of the shattered, devastated elevator, holding a sagging, unconscious Murphy. The elevator doors gave a warped, gasping little ding, then shuddered open.”
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Velocity Equation:
12 x 9 foot
9 feet = 0.3048 meters
0.3048 x 9= 2.7432 meters
2.7432 x 12 = 32.9184 meters
V(Final)=V(Initial)t + 1/2(a)(t)^2
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Assuming V Initial is zero (at rest) we cross out Vinitial(t)
Vfinal=1/2(a)(t)^2
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We know acceleration is -9.8m/s/s, but we don’t know the exact time of the falling elevator.
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Vfinal=1/2(-9.8)(t)^2
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Let’s throw another equation at this: Delta X (32.9184 m) = Vinitial (t) +1/2 (a)(t)^2
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Again, V initial being zero, Vinitial(t) is cancelled out
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32.9184=1/2 (-9.8)(t)^2
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Multiply both sides by two, and divide by -9.8
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65.8296m/-9.8m/s/s=t^2
-6.71730612 s^2=t^2
Square root both sides to isolate the variable
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2.59177663=t
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Let’s look at the sum of our information now:
V0 (Vinitial)= 0m/s
A=-9.8m/s/s
T=2.5917763s
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Going back to our initial equation:
Vf=V0(t)+1/2(a)(t)^2
Initial is again crossed out:
Vf=1/2(-9.8)(2.5917763)^2
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If Google Calculator is anything to go by, final velocity is:
-32.9147915 m/s (ground being zero)
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Force Calc:
“The average mass of an adult human is 54–64 kg (120–140 lbs) for females and 76–83 kg (168–183 lbs) for males.” –Wikipedia’s Article on “Humans”
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For Murphy, let’s pick the median of the average data (59 kg) and for Dresden, let’s pick the median as well (79.5kg)
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E=1/2mv^2
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59+79.5=138.5
E=1/2(138.5kg)(-32.9147915 m/s)^2
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75,024.3073 joules of energy = 75.024 kilojoules
Her being a succubus who can create feelings of lust on whim means it couldn’t have been any broad, the fact that she is currently the strongest white court vamp, means that shield is well beyond the means of Harry by himself.
“With my left hand, I extended the shield bracelet toward the cavern, the bombs, the onrushing ghouls—
and I fed that tidal force of lust through it, building up the energy I would need, some part of me shaping
and directing it even as the rest of me concentrated on the mind-consuming pleasure of that single kiss.”
It was the Lust, that shield was powered by lust, Succubus or not it was the Lust that powered the shield just like this…………………..” It wasn’t fair. We’d done everything we could. We’d risked everything. Not we. The choices had been mine. I’d risked everything. And I’d lost. Michael and I couldn’t possibly fight them all alone. They’d taken Susan. The help we thought we’d found had turned against us. They had Susan. And it was my fault. I hadn’t listened to her, when I should have. I hadn’t protected her. And now she was going to die, because of me. I don’t know how that realization would make someone else feel. I don’t know if the despair, and the self-loathing and the helpless fury would crumble them like too-brittle concrete, or melt them like dirty lead, or shatter them like cheap glass. I only know what it did to me. It set me on fire. Fire in my heart, in my thoughts, in my eyes. I burned, burned down deep in my gut, burned in places I hadn’t known I could hurt. I don’t remember the spell, or the words I said. But I remember reaching for that pain. I remember reaching for it, and thinking that if we had to go, then so help me God, weakened or not, hopeless or not, I was going to take these murdering, bloodsucking sons of bitches with me. I would show them that they couldn’t play lightly with the powers of creation, of life itself. That it wasn’t smart to cross a wizard of the White Council when someone has stolen his girlfriend. I think Michael must have sensed something and taken the girl from my arms, because the next thing I remember is thrusting my hands toward the night sky and screaming, “Fuego! Pyrofuego! Burn, you greasy bat-faced bastards! Burn!” I reached for fire–and fire answered me. The tree-towers of the topiary castle exploded into blazes of light, and the hedge-walls, complete with their crenelated tops, went up with them. Fire leapt up into the air, forty, fifty feet, and the sudden explosion of it lifted everyone but me up and off the ground, sent wind roaring around us in a gale. I stood amidst it, my mind brilliantly lit by the power coursing through me. It burned me, and some part of me screamed out in joy that it did. My cloak flapped and danced in the gale, spreading out around me in a scarlet and sable cloud. The abrupt glare fell on the scene of the vampires’ revelry, lighting it harshly. The young people of earlier lay about, out in the darkness near the hedges, near the fires, pathetic little lumps. Some of them twitched. Some of them breathed. A few whimpered and tried to crawl away from the heat–but most lay dreadfully, perfectly still. Pale. Pretty. Dead. The fury in me grew. It swelled and burned and I reached out to the fires again. Flames flew out, caught one of the more cowardly of the vampires, huddled at the back, scrabbling to slip his flesh mask back over his squashed bat face. The fire touched him and then twined about him, searing and blackening his skin, then dragging him back, winding and rolling him toward the blaze. The magic danced in my eyes, my head, my chest, flying wild and out of control. I couldn’t follow everything that happened. More vampires got too close to the flames, and began screaming. Tendrils of fire rose up from the ground and began to slither over the courtyard like serpents. Everything exploded into motion, shadows flashing through the brightness, seeking escape, screaming.”
Grave Peril, Chapter 30……………was powered by anger and rage. did he use her to generate the lust yes, but that was because she was available to do it and he was to exhausted to work up that kind of anger he needed.
Didn’t Dresden have a spell that broke apart other powers being used on him.
@GA
I think it was against a dragon he was crushing him or using force or something.
What are sending Gannondorf into nevernever and closing the portal count as a win?
@Lowk,
yes he did in fact it was full body TK crush type attack, by a creature described by word of gym as a force of nature.
“What are sending Gannondorf”
I mean, Would sending Ganondorf
@Lowk
it would if Ganon can’t get back, Dresden’s portal shield maneuver could cause Ganondorf to fly somewhere deadly though.
Ganondorf can teleport between dimensions so I don’t think that sending him to Nevernever would be a successful BFR tactic
it may not, but Ganon may end up somewhere where he won’t come out unscathed, in Changes we saw some places in the Never Never that if you didn’t know where to step you would not be walking away.
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as for the evils bane factor is it pretty well agreed that Soulfire qualifies and allows Dresden to have a shot at bringing down the ultimate evil of the Legend of Zelda universe.
here’s a sample of Dresden using his third eye/Sight/Wizard Sight. Looking at a warlocks home.
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Harry using his Third Eye, also known as The Sight, to see the unseen around Victor Sells’ lakehouse.
There could be spells waiting, illusions meant to hide Victor Sells from anyone who came looking. I needed to be able to see past all that. I needed to have every scrap of knowledge I could get. So I opened my Third Eye. How can I explain what a wizard sees? It isn’t something that lends itself readily to description. Describing something helps to define it, to give it limits, to set guardrails of understanding around it. Wizards have had the Sight since time began, and they still don’t understand how it works, why it does what it does. The only thing I can say is that I felt as though a veil of thick cloth had been lifted away from me as I opened my eyes again–and not only from my eyes, but from all of my senses. I could abruptly smell the mud and fish odor of the lake, the trees around the house, the fresh scent of the coming rain preceding the storm on the smoke-stained wind. I looked at the trees. Saw them, not just in the first green coat of spring, but in the full bloom of summer, the splendor of the fall, and the barren desolation of winter, all at the same time. I Saw the house, and each separate part of it as its own component, the timbers as parts of spectral trees, the windows as pieces of distant sandy shores. I could feel the heat of summer and the cold of winter in the wind coming off the lake. I Saw the house wreathed in ghostly flames, and knew that those were part of its possible future, that fire lay down several of the many paths of possibility that lay ahead in the next hour. The house itself was a place of power. Dark emotions–greed, lust, hatred–all hung over it as visible things, molds and slimes that were strewn over it like Spanish moss with malevolent eyes. Ghostly things, restless spirits, moved around the place, drawn to the sense of fear, despair, and anger that hung over it, mindless shades that were always to be found in such places, like rats in granaries. The other thing that I Saw over the house was a grinning, empty skull. Skulls were everywhere, wherever I looked, just at the edge of my vision, silent and still and bleach white, as solid and real as though a fetishist had scattered them around in anticipation of some bizarre holiday. Death. Death lay in the house’s future, tangible, solid, unavoidable. Maybe mine. I shuddered and shoved the feeling away.
Storm Front, Chapter 24
not sure how it would help but it could or it might not really hard to say.
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Dresden fighting the dark wizard, this is book one when he was less powerful than he currently is and didn’t have as much experience.
Harry cronfronting and battling Victor Sells, another powerful wizard like Harry, in Victor’s own lake house. He performs various feats of magic throughout the battle.
I focused my will, extended my right arm and open palm to the stereo system, and shouted, “Fuego!” A rush of heat from my hand exploded into flame on the far side of the room and engulfed the stereo, which began to emit a sound more like a long, tortured scream than music. Murphy’s handcuffs still dangled from my wrist, one loop swinging free. Then I turned, extended my arms and roared, “Veni che!” Wind swept up beneath me, making my duster billow like Batman’s cloak, lifting me directly up to the platform above and over its low railing into the suspended room. Even expecting the sight, it rattled me. Victor was dressed in black slacks, a black shirt, black shoes–very stylish, especially compared to my sweatpants and cowboy, boots. His shaggy eyebrows and lean features were highlighted eerily by the dark light flowing up from the circle around him, where the implements of his ritual spell were ready to complete the ceremony that would kill me. He had what looked like a spoon, its edges sharpened to razor keenness, a pair of candles, black and white, and a white rabbit, its feet bound with red cord. One of its legs was bleeding from a small tear, staining the white fur. And tied against its head with a cord was the lock of my own dark, straight hair. Over to one side was another circle, laid out in chalk upon the carpeting, maybe fifteen feet across. The Beckitts were inside, writhing together in mindless, sweating desire, generating energy for Victor’s spell. Victor stared at me in shock as I landed upon the balcony, wind whipping around me, roaring inside the small room like a miniature cyclone, knocking over potted plants and knick knacks. “You!” he shouted. “Me,” I confirmed. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Vic.” His shock transformed into snarling anger in a heartbeat. He snatched up the sharpened spoon, raised it in his right hand, and screamed out words of the incantation. He dragged the rabbit in front of him, the ceremonial representation of me, and prepared to gouge out its, and therefore my, heart. I didn’t give him the chance to finish. I reached into a pocket and hurled the empty plastic film canister at Victor Shadowman. As a weapon, it wasn’t much. But it was real, and it had been hurled by a real person, a mortal. It could shatter the integrity of a magic circle. The canister went through the air above Victor’s circle and broke it, just as he completed the incantation and drove the spoon’s blade down at the poor rabbit. The energy of the storm came whipping down the cylinder of focus created by Victor’s now-flawed circle. Power shattered out into the room, wild, undirected, and unfocused, naked color and raw sound spewing everywhere with hurricane force. It sent objects flying, including Victor and me, and shattered the secondary circle the Beckitts were in, sending them rolling and bumping across the floor and into one wall. I braced myself against the guardrail and held on as the power raged around me, charging the air with raw, dangerous magic, surging about like water under pressure, seeking an outlet. “You bastard!” Victor screamed into the gale. “Why don’t you just die!” He lifted a hand and screamed something at me, and fire washed across the space between us, instant and hot. I tapped some of the ample power now available in the room and formed a hard, high wall in front of me, squeezing my eyes shut in concentration. It was a dozen times harder to shield without my bracelet, but I blocked the flame, sent it swirling high and over me, huddling under a little quarterdome of hardened air that would not let Victor’s magic past it. I opened my eyes in time to see the flames touch the ceiling beams and set them alight. The air still thrummed with energy as the wash of flame passed. Victor snarled when he saw me rise, lifted a hand to one side, and snarled out words of summoning. A crooked stick that looked like it might be some kind of bone soared through the air toward him, and he caught it in one hand, turning to me with the attitude of a man holding a gun. The problem with most wizards is that they get too used to thinking in terms of one venue: Magic. I don’t think Victor expected me to rise, lurch across the trembling floor toward him, and drive my shoulder into his chest, slamming him back into the wall with a satisfying thud. I leaned back a little and drove a knee toward his gut, missed, and got him square between the legs instead. The breath went out of him in a rush, and he doubled over to the ground. By this time, I was screaming at him, senseless and incoherent. I started kicking at his head. I heard a metallic, ratcheting sound behind me and spun my head in time to see Beckitt, naked, point an automatic weapon at me. I threw myself to one side, and heard a brief explosion of gunfire. Something hot tore at my hip, spinning me into a roll, and I kept going, into the kitchen. I heard Beckitt snarl a curse. There were a number of sharp clicking sounds. The automatic had jammed. Hell, with this much magic flying around the room, we were all lucky the thing hadn’t just exploded. Victor, meanwhile, shook the end of the bone tube he held, and a half dozen dried, brown scorpion husks fell out onto the carpeting. His whiter-than-white teeth flashed in his boater brown face, and he snarled, “Scorpis, scorpis, scorpis!” His eyes gleamed with lust and fury. One of my legs wasn’t answering my calls to action, so I crab-walked backward into the kitchen on the heels of my hands and one leg. Out on the dining section of the balcony, the scorpions shuddered to life and started to grow. First one, and then the others, oriented on the kitchen and started toward me in scuttling bursts of speed, getting larger as they came. Victor howled his glee. The Beckitts rose, both naked, lean and savage-looking, both sporting guns, their eyes empty of everything but a wild sort of bloodlust. I felt my shoulders press against a counter. There was a rattle, and then a broom fell down against me, its handle bouncing off of my head and landing on the tile floor beside me. I grabbed at it, my heart pounding somewhere around my throat. A roomful of deadly drug. One evil sorcerer on his home turf. Two crazies with guns. One storm of wild magic looking for something to set it into explosive motion. And half a dozen scorpions like the one I had barely survived earlier, rapidly growing to movie-monster size. Less than a minute on the clock and no time-outs remaining for the quarterback. All in all, it was looking like a bad evening for the home team. I was so dead. There was no way out of the kitchen, no time to use an explosive evocation in close quarters, and the deadly scorpions would rip me to pieces well before Victor could blow me up with explosive magic or one of the blood-maddened Beckitts could get their guns working long enough to put a few more bullets in me. My hip was beginning to scream with pain, which I supposed was better than the deadly dull numbness of more serious injuries and shock, but at the moment it was the least of my worries. I clutched the broom to me, my only pitiful weapon. I didn’t even have the mobility to use it. And then something occurred to me, something so childish that I almost laughed. I plucked a straw from the broomstick and began a low and steady chant, a bobbing about in the air with the fingers that held the straw. I reached out and took hold of the immense amounts of untapped energy running rampant in the air and drew them into the spell. “Pulitas!” I shouted, bringing the chant to a crescendo. “Pulitas, pulitas!” The broom twitched. It quivered. It jerked upright in my hands. And then it took off across the kitchen floor, its brush waving menacingly, to meet the scorpions’ advance. The last thing I had expected to use that cleaning spell for when I had laboriously been forced to learn it was a tide of poisonous scorpion monsters, but any port in a storm. The broom swept into them with ferocious energy and started flicking them across the kitchen toward the rest of the balcony with tidy, efficient motions. Each time one of the scorpions would try to dodge around it, the broom would tilt out and catch the beastie before it could, flick it neatly onto its back and continue about its job. I’m pretty sure it got all the dirt on the way, too. When I do a spell, I do it right. Victor screeched in anger when he saw his pets, still too small to carry much mass, being so neatly corralled and ushered off the balcony. The Beckitts lifted their guns and opened fire on the broom, while I hunkered down behind the counter. They must have been using revolvers, now, because they fired smoothly and in an ordered rhythm. Bullets smacked into the walls and the counters at the back of the kitchen, but none of them came through the counter that sheltered me. I caught my breath, pressing my hand against the blood on my hip. It hurt like bloody hell. I thought the bullet was stuck, somewhere by the bone. I couldn’t move my leg. There was a lot of blood, but not so much that I was sitting in a puddle. Out on the balcony, the fire was beginning to catch, spreading over the roof. The entire place was going to come crashing down before much longer. “Stop shooting, stop shooting, damn you!” Victor screamed, as the gunfire came to a halt. I risked a peek over the counter. My broom had swept the scorpions off the edge of the balcony and to the floor of the room below. As I watched, Victor caught the broom by its handle and broke it over the balcony railing with a snarl. The straw I still held in my fingers broke with a sharp little twang, and I felt the energy fade from the spell. Victor Shadowman snarled. “A cute trick, Dresden,” he said, “but pathetic. There’s no way you can survive this. Give up. I’ll be willing to let you walk away.” The Beckitts were reloading. I ducked my head back down before they got any funny ideas, and hoped that they didn’t have heavier rounds that could penetrate the counters I hid behind and whatever contents they contained, to kill me. “Sure, Vic,” I replied, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “You’re known for your mercy and sense of fair play, right?” “All I have to do is keep you in there until the fire spreads enough to kill you,” Victor said. “Sure. Let’s all die together, Vic. Too bad about all your inventory down there, though, eh?” Victor snarled and pitched another burst of flame into the kitchen. This time, it was much easier to cover myself, half-shielded as I already was by the counters. “Oh, cute,” I said, my voice dripping scorn. “Fire’s the simplest thing you can do. All the real wizards learn that in the first couple of weeks and move on up from there.” I looked around the kitchen. There had to be something I could use, some way I could escape, but nothing presented itself. “Shut up!” Victor snarled. “Who’s the real wizard here, huh? Who’s the one with all the cards and who’s the one bleeding on the kitchen floor? You’re nothing, Dresden, nothing. You’re a loser. And do you know why?” “Gee,” I said. “Let me think.” He laughed, harshly. “Because you’re an idiot. You’re an idealist. Open your eyes, man. You’re in the jungle, now. It’s survival of the fittest, and you’ve proved yourself unfit. The strong do as they wish, and the weak get trampled. When this is over, I’m going to wipe you off my shoe and keep going like you never existed.” “Too late for that,” I told him. I was in the mood to tell a white lie. “The police know all about you, Vic. I told them myself. And I told the White Council, too. You’ve never even heard of them, have you, Vic? They’re like the Superfriends and the Inquisition all rolled up into one. You’ll love them. They’ll take you out like yesterday’s garbage. God, you really are an ignorant bastard.” There was a moment’s silence. Then, “No,” he said. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me, Dresden.” “If I’m lying I’m dying,” I told him. Hell, as far as I knew, I was. “Oh. And Johnny Marcone, too. I made sure that he knew who and where you were.” “Son of a bitch,” Victor said. “You stupid son of a bitch. Who put you up to this, huh? Marcone? Is that why he pulled you off the street. “I had to laugh, weakly. A bit of flaming cabinet fell off an upper shelf onto the tiles next to me. It was getting hot in there. The fire was spreading. “You never figured it out, did you, Vic?” “Who?” Victor screamed at me. “Who was it, damn you? That whore, Linda? Her whore friend Jennifer?” “Strike two, strike three, the other side gets a chance to steal,” I said back. Hell, at least if I could keep him talking, I might keep him in the house long enough to go down with me. And if I could make him mad enough, he might make a mistake. “Stop talking to him,” Beckitt said. “He’s not armed. Let’s kill him and get out of here before we all die.” “Go ahead,” I said in a cheerful tone. “Hell, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll send this whole house up in a fireball that’ll make Hiroshima look like a hibachi. Make my day.” “Shut up,” Victor shouted. “Who was it, Dresden? Who, damn you?” If I gave him Monica, he might still be able to get to her if he got away. There was no sense in risking that. So all I said was, “Go to hell, Vic.” “Get the car started,” Victor snarled. “Go out through the deck doors. The scorpions will kill anything on the first floor.” I heard motion in the room, someone moving out the doors onto the elevated deck at the back of the house. The fire continued to spread. Smoke rode the air in a thick haze. “I’ve got to go, Dresden,” Victor told me. His voice was gentle, almost a purr, “but there’s someone I want you to meet, first.” I got a sick, twisty little feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Kalshazzak,” Victor whispered. Power thrummed. The air shimmered and shone, began to twist and spiral. “Kalshazzak,” Victor whispered again, louder, more demanding. I heard something, a warbling hiss that seemed to come from a great distance, rushing closer. The black wizard called the name for the third and final time, his voice rising to a screech, “Kalshazzak!” There was a thunder crack in the house, a dull and sulfurous stench, and I craned my neck to see over the counter, risking a glance. Victor stood by the sliding glass doors that led out onto the wooden deck. Red-orange flames wreathed the ceiling on that side of the house, and smoke was filling the room below, casting the whole place in a hellish glow. Crouched down on the floor in front of Victor was the toad-demon I had banished the night before. Ihad known that I hadn’t killed it. You can’t kill demons, as such, only destroy the physical vessels they create for themselves when they come to the mortal world. If called again, they can create a new vessel without difficulty. I watched in fascination, stunned. I had seen only one person call a demon before–and I had killed my old master shortly after. The thing crouched in front of Victor, its lightning blue eyes whirling with shades of scarlet hate, staring up at the black-clad wizard, trembling with the need to tear into him, to rend and destroy the mortal being who had dared summon it forth. Victor’s eyes grew wider and more mad, glittering with fevered intensity. Sweat ran down his face, and he tilted his head slowly to one side, as though his vision were skewing along the horizontal and by the motion he would compensate for it. I gave silent thanks that I had closed my Third Eye when I did. I did not want to see what that thing really looked like–and I didn’t want to get a good look at the real Victor Sells, either. The demon finally gave a hiss of frustration and turned toward me with a croaking growl. Victor dropped his head back and laughed, his will triumphant over that of the being he had called from beyond. “There, Dresden. Do you see? The strong survive, and the weak are torn to little pieces.” He flapped his hand at me and said, to the demon, “Kill him.” I struggled to my feet, supporting my weight on the counter, to face the demon as it rose and began its slow stalk toward me. “My God, Victor,” I said. “I can’t get over how clumsy you are.” Victor’s smile immediately became a snarling sneer once again. I saw fear touch the corners of his eyes, uncertainty even though he was on top, and I felt a little smile quirk my lips. I moved my gaze to the demon’s. “You really shouldn’t just hand someone else a demon’s name,” I told him. Then I drew in a breath, and shouted out in a voice of command, “Kalshazzak!” The demon stopped in its tracks and gave a whistling howl of agony and rage as I called its name and drew my will up to hurl against it. “Kalshazzak,” I snarled again. The demon’s presence was suddenly there, in my head, raging slippery and slimy and wriggling like a venomous tadpole. It was a pressure, a horrible pressure on my temples that made me see stars and threatened to steal enough of my balance to send me falling to the floor. I tried to speak again and the words stuck in my throat. The demon hissed in anticipation, and the pressure on my head redoubled, trying to force me down, to make me give up the struggle, at which point the demon would be free to act. The lightning blue of its eyes became glaringly bright, painful to look upon. I thought of little Jenny Sells, oddly enough, and of Murphy, lying pale and unconscious on a stretcher in the rain, of Susan, crouched next to me, sick and unable to run. I had beaten this frog once. I could do it again. I cried out the demon’s name for the third and final time, my throat burning and raw. The word came out garbled and imperfect, and for a sinking moment I feared the worst, but Kalshazzak howled again, and hurled itself furiously to the floor, thrashing its limbs about like a poisoned bug, raging and tearing great swaths out of the carpet. I sagged, the weariness that came over me threatening to make me black out. “What are you doing?” Victor said, his voice rising to a high-pitched shriek. “What are you doing?” He was staring at the demon in horror. “Kill him! I am your master! Kill him, kill him!” The demon howled in rage, turned its burning glare to me and then Victor, as though trying to decide who to devour first. Its eyes settled on Victor, who went pale and ran for the doors. “Oh no you don’t,” I muttered, and I uttered the last spell I could manage. One final time, on the last gasps of my power, the winds rose and lifted me from the earth. I hurtled into Victor like an ungainly cannonball, driving him away from the doors, past the demon as it made an awkward lunge at us, and toward the railing of the balcony. We fell in a confused heap at the edge of the balcony that overlooked the room beneath, full of dark smoke and the red glow of flame. The air had grown almost too hot to breathe. Pain jolted through my hip, more bright and blinding than anything I had ever imagined, and I sucked in a breath. The smoky air burned, made me choke and gasp. I looked up. Fire was spreading everywhere. The demon was crouched between us and the only way out. Over the edge of the balcony was only chaos and flame and smoke–strange, dark smoke that should have been rising, but instead was mostly settled along the floor like London fog. The pain was too great. I simply couldn’t move. I couldn’t even take in enough breath to scream. “Damn you,” Victor screamed. He regained his feet and hauled me up toward his face with berserk strength. “Damn you,” he repeated. “What happened? What did you do?” “The Fourth Law of Magic forbids the binding of any being against its will,” I grated out. Pain was tight around my throat, making me fight to speak the words. “So I stepped in and cut your control over it. And didn’t establish any of my own.” Victor’s eyes widened, “You mean …” “It’s free,” I confirmed. I glanced at the demon. “Looks hungry.” “What do we do,” Victor said. His voice was shaking, and he started shaking me, too. “What do we do?” “We die,” I said. “Hell, I was going to do that anyway. But at least this way, I take you out with me.” I saw him glance at the demon, then back to me, eyes terrified and calculating. “Work with me,” he said. “You stopped it before. You can stop it again. We can beat it, together, and leave.” I studied him for a moment. I couldn’t kill him with magic. I didn’t want to. And it would only have brought a death sentence on my head in any case. But I could stand by and do nothing. And that’s exactly what I did. I smiled at him, closed my eyes, and did nothing. “Fuck you, then, Dresden,” Victor snarled. “It can only eat one of us at a time. And I’m not going to be the one to get eaten today.” And he picked me up to hurl me toward the demon. I objected with fragile tenacity. We grappled. Fire raged. Smoke billowed. The demon came closer, lightning eyes gleaming through the hell-lit gloom. Victor was shorter than me, stockier, better at wrestling, and he hadn’t been shot in the hip. He levered me up and almost threw me, but I moved quicker, whipping my right arm at his head and catching him with the flailing free end of Murphy’s handcuffs, breaking his motion. He tried to break away, but I held on to him, dragged him in a circle to slam against the guardrail of the balcony, and we both toppled over. Desperation gives a man extraordinary resources. I flailed at the balcony railing and caught it at the base, keeping myself from going over into the roiling smoke below. I shot a glance below, and saw the glistening brown hide of one of the scorpions, its stinging tail held up like the mast of a ship cutting through smoke at least four feet deep. The room was filled with angry clicking, scuttling sounds. Even in a single desperate glance, I saw a couch torn to pieces by a pair of scorpions in less time than it took to take a breath. They loomed over it, their tails waving in the air like flags from the back of golf carts. Hell’s bells. Victor had grabbed on to the railing a little above me and to the left, and he stared at the oncoming demon with a face twisted with hatred. I saw him draw in a breath, and try to plant a foot firmly enough to free one hand to point at the oncoming demon in some sort of magical attack or defense. I couldn’t allow Victor to get out of this. He was still whole. If he could knock the demon down, he might still slip out. So I had to tell him something that would make him mad enough to try to take my head off. “Hey, Vic,” I shouted. “It was your wife. It was Monica that ratted on you.” The words hit him like a physical blow, and his head whipped around toward me, his face contorting in fury. He started to say something tome, the words of a spell meant to blow me to bits, maybe, but the toad-demon interrupted him by rearing up with an angry hiss and snapping its jaws down over Victor’s collarbone and throat.Bone broke with audible snaps, and Victor squealed in pain, his arms and legs shuddering. He tried to push his way down, away from the demon, and the creature’s balance wobbled. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold on. A scorpion leapt at me, brown and gleaming, and I drew my legs up out of reach of its pincers, just barely. “Bastard,” Victor cried, struggling uselessly in the demon’s jaws. There was blood running down his body, fast and hot. The demon had hit an artery, and it was simply holding on, wavering at the edge of the balcony as Victor struggled and started kicking at my near hand. He hit me once, twice, and my balance wavered, my grip slipping. A quick glance below me showed me another scorpion, getting ready to jump at me, this one closer. Murphy, I thought. I should have listened to you. If the scorpions didn’t kill me, the demon would, and if the demon didn’t, the fire was going to kill me. I was going to die. There was a certain peace in thinking that, in knowing that it was all about to be over. I was going to die. It was as simple as that. I had fought as hard as I could, done everything I could think of, and it was over. I found myself, in my final seconds, idly wishing thatI could have had time to apologize to Murphy, that I could apologize to Jenny Sells for killing her daddy, that I could apologize to Linda Randall for not figuring things out fast enough and saving her life. Murphy’s handcuffs lay tight and cold against my forearm as monsters and demons and black wizards and smoke closed in all around me. I closed my eyes. Murphy’s handcuffs. My eyes snapped open. Murphy’s handcuffs. Victor swung his foot at my left hand again. I kicked with my legs and hauled with my shoulders to give me a second of lift, and grabbed Victor Sells’s pant leg in my left hand. With my right, I flicked the free end of the handcuffs around one of the bars of the guardrail. The ring of metal cycled around on its hinge and locked into place. Then, as I started to fall back down, I hauled hard on Victor’s leg. He screamed, a horrible, high-pitched squeal, as he started to fall. Kalshazzak, finally overbalanced by the additional weight and leverage I had added to Victor’s struggles, pitched over the balcony guardrail and into the smoke below, crashing down to the floor, carrying Victor with him. There was a rush of scuttling, clicking sounds, a piercing whistle-hiss from the demon. Victor’s screams rose to something high-pitched and horrible, until he sounded more like an animal, a pig squealing at slaughter, than a man. I swung from the balcony, my feet several feet above the fray, held suspended in an acutely painful fashion by Murphy’s handcuffs, one loop around my wrist, the other locked around the balcony railing. I looked down as my vision started to fade. I saw a sea of brown, gleaming plates of segmented, chitinous armor. I saw the scorpions’ stinging tails flashing down, over and over again. I saw the lightning eyes of Kalshazzak’s physical vessel, and I saw one of them pierced and put out by the flashing sting of one of the scorpions. And I saw Victor Sells, struck over and over again by stingers the size of ice picks, the wounds foaming with poison. The demon ignored the pincers and the stingers of the scorpions to begin tearing him apart. His face contorted in the final agony of rage and fear. The strong survive, and the weak get eaten. I guess Victor had invested in the wrong kind of strength.
Storm Front, Chapter 25-26
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Harry fighting off and escaping a pack of lycanthropes (a type of werewolf, they were in human form at the time though). His Shield Bracelets protect against shotgun fire from point blank range.
I kept my left palm up and turned out toward the leader, the one with the shotgun, and held on to my shield as hard as I could. My motion triggered a frenzied howl from the others in the room and they came surging toward me like a dozen creatures with one controlling mind. The shotgun roared and threw a flash of white light over the room, showing me a frieze of half-dressed or naked men and women hurtling toward me, their faces twisted with grimaces of berserk anger. The force of the blast slammed into my shield. It wasn’t quite enough to shatter the protective field, but it made my bracelet grow warm and shoved my opposite shoulder hard against the wall. I stumbled, thrown off balance. One of the men, a heavy-set fellow with his shoulders covered in tattoos, got between me and the door. I ran at him, and he spread his arms to grab me, assuming I would try to go past him. Instead, I drove my fist at his nose as hard as I could. I don’t carry a lot of power on my own when I punch. But when I added in the kinetic energy stored in the ring, my fist became a battering ram of bone and flesh, flattening the man’s nose in a gout of blood, and sending him sprawling to the ground six feet away. I was through the door in a flash and felt the sun’s welcome heat on my back.
Fool Moon, Chapter 9
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Harry (after being handcuffed and shot in the shoulder) turns his own trail of blood into fog to keep himself and Tera from being seen.
I took a breath and drew in every bit of will I could summon, drew in the pain and my fear and sick frustration and shoved it all into a hard little ball of energy. “Ventas veloche,” I murmured. “Ubrium, ubrium.” I repeated the words in a breathless chant, curling my fingers in toward my palm as I did. The curls of steam from my blood began to thicken and gather into dense tendrils of mist and fog. Back along our trail, where more of my blood had spilled, more fog arose. For a few seconds, it was nothing, just a low and slithering movement along the ground–and then it erupted forth, billows of fog rising to cover the ground as the energy rushed out of me, covering Tera from my sight and causing shouts of confusion and consternation to come from the law officials pursuing us.
Fool Moon, Chapter 13
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Harry using his magic to paralyze MacFinn with an electrical shock while he was attacking him.
So there I was being strangled by a ranting, half-naked madman in the middle of the woods, with a she-werewolf dangling from a rope snare somewhere nearby. My gunshot wound hurt horribly, and my jaw throbbed from where my buddy the cop had brutalized it the night before. I’ve had worse days. That’s the great thing about being a wizard. I can always tell myself, honestly, that things could be worse. I stopped trying to struggle against the man who was choking me. Instead, I grabbed his wrist and prepared to do something foolish. Magic is a kind of energy. It is given shape by human thoughts and emotions, by imagination. Thoughts define that shape–and words help to define those thoughts. That’s why wizards usually use words to help them with their spells. Words provide a sort of insulation as the energy of magic burns through a spell caster’s mind. If you use words that you’re too familiar with, words that are so close to your thoughts that you have trouble separating thought from word, that insulation is very thin. So most wizards use words from ancient languages they don’t know very well, or else they make up nonsense words and mentally attach their meanings to a particular effect. That way, a wizard’s mind has an extra layer of protection against magical energies coursing through it. But you can work magic without words, without insulation for your mind. If you’re not afraid of it hurting a little. I drew in my will, my exhausted fear, and focused on what I wanted. My vision swam with dots of color. The man on my back snarled and growled incoherently, and spittle or foam dribbled onto the side of my face. Dried leaves and mud pressed against the other side of my face. Things started going black. Then I ground my teeth together and released my will with a burst of sudden energy. Two things happened. First, a rush of blinding thought, brilliant and wild and jangling, went through my head. My eyes swam with color, my ears with phantom sound. My senses were assaulted with a myriad of impressions: the sharp scent of the earth and dry leaves, the rippling scratch of a centipede’s legs fluttering up the skin of my forearms, the sensation of warm sunlight against my scalp, dozens of others I couldn’t identify–things with no basis in reality. They were a side effect of the energy rushing through my head. The second thing that happened was a surge of electricity gathered from the air around me to my fingertips, gripped on my attacker’s wrist, and surged up through his arm and into his body. He convulsed against my back, out of control, and the strength of his own reaction threw him off of me and to his back on the leaves, jerking and flopping, his face stretched in a tight-lipped expression of shock and fear. I wheezed in a breath, stunned and shaking, then scrambled back to my feet, only to stagger against a tree. I huddled there, watching my attacker’s convulsions fade into a numb paralysis. Finally, he just stared at the sky, his lips open, his chest heaving in and out.
Fool Moon, Chapter 15
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Harry summoning a miniature cyclone of wind to blow Tera away.
My eyes tracked down to earth to find an indistinct shape stir in the leaves, and then resolve itself into Tera West’s long limbs and practical clothes. She gathered her legs beneath her and crossed at once to MacFinn, her chest heaving, her eyes vague and distant. “MacFinn,” she said. “MacFinn! You’ve killed him,” she snarled, and her eyes snapped up to mine, bright and burning with amber anger. I could have sworn I saw her face start to change, her bared teeth begin to grow into fangs. Maybe that was just the effect of the magic on my perceptions, though, or a primitive, lizard-brain sort of reaction to Tera rising to her feet and charging toward me with a howl. There was murder in her eyes. I hadn’t gotten beaten up twice, shot, and nearly strangled to get taken out by a misguided werewolf bitch. I gathered in my dizzy, spinning will and extended my good hand toward the charging woman, flicking my wrist in a circle. “Vento giostrus!” I trumpeted. The winds howled down from the trees and whipped into a savage circle of moving air, lifting up dried leaves, sticks, and small stones. The miniature cyclone picked the charging Tera up off the ground and hurled her a good twenty feet through the air, into the branches of a pine tree. It also hurled out a cloud of rocks and small debris, forcing me to seek shelter behind a tree trunk. How embarrassing. It was a little more wind than I had wanted. That’s the danger of evocation, of that instantaneous, ka-blowie sort of magic. Control can be somewhat tricky. All I had wanted was something to spin Tera around and then to plop her down on her ass. Instead, rocks hammered against the tree trunk and zipped by, rattling against the trees all around in an almost deafening clatter. The wind shook the trees, tore branches from them, and cast half a ton of dirt and dust into the air in a choking cloud. The wind died after about half a minute, leaving me choking and coughing on dust and dirt. I peered around the edge of my tree, to see what I could see. The trees had been cleaned of their autumn colors in a fifty-foot-wide circle, leaving only stark branches behind. Where the bark had been brittle or dry, the cyclone had torn it from the trees, leaving pale, gleaming wood flesh visible. The leaves on the ground were gone as well, as were six or eight inches of topsoil–wind erosion gone berserk. A few stones, newly naked, could be seen in the torn earth, as could the roots of someof the trees and a number of startled worms. MacFinn was sitting up, evidently recovered from the jolt I’d given him. His face was pasty and stunned as he looked around him. His chest rose and fell in uneven jerks. There was a rustle, and then I caught sight of Tera West tumbling to the ground from the branches of the pine tree. She landed with a thump and sat there coughing and staring, her mouth hanging open in surprise.
Fool Moon, Chapter 15
after having his power drained to lower than book 1 level, Dressden manages a counter spell to throw off a crushing TK attack, note the guy doing it wasn’t trying and Dresden was a lot less durable and not as powerful as he could have been at the time. add in his increased power over the coure of the books and I’m betting he shouldn’t have a problem with Ganondorf TK.
Harry disables a spell with a counter spell of his own.
Ferro just waved a hand vaguely in my direction, and something crushed me down to the earth, as though I suddenly had gained about five thousand pounds. I felt my lungs strain to haul in a breath, and my vision clouded over with stars and went black. I tried to gather up my magic, to thrust the force away from me, but I couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak. Michael looked down at me dispassionately, then said, to Ferro, “Siriothrax should have learned that trick. It might have kept me from killing him.” Ferro’s cold regard swept back to Michael, bringing with it a tiny lessening in the pressure– not much, but enough that I could gasp out, “Riflettum,” and focus my will against it. Ferro’s spell cracked and began to flake apart.
Grave Peril, Chapter 26
other factors. . .
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does harry know about gannon, or is this a chance incounter?
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if there is preparation, how long?
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if there is no preparation, is harry in tip-top shape?
if so, i say he wins hands down.
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standard basic knowledge rule, no prep for either. Dresden is in peak condition for him, no exhaustion.
debating giving him Winter Knight Armor. Actually yeah, Dresden gets his winter knight armor.
This really should have waited until Cold Days comes out in late November, as we don’t really know much about what being Winter Knight has added to Dresden.
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At any rate, assuming that Dresden’s got access to his full spread of gear … he has Swords of the Cross … which are definitely ‘evil-bane’, and have the side bonus (for Dresden) of shanking Ganondorf’s superhuman physical advantages – leveling the playing field, so to speak, making it skill versus skill.
yeah, since it’s close to 50 and I don’t want this to potentially turn to a stomp if Soulfire is found not to be Evils Bane Dresden can snatch up the Swords of the Cross, if Soulfire is evils bane though he probably won’t need them.
but yeah for this match, I think Dresden can win, like I said he has access to Fidelacchius as well as Amoracchius, though since he has a place to carry Fidelacchius in his Duster he’ll probably have it.Course the sword is a moot point if Soulfire is Evils Bane, it would be nice if some other people would come to debate this match though.
“I told you,” Nicodemus said. “This is endgame. No more playing.” The pitch and
intonation of his voice changed, and though he still spoke in my direction, it was clear that
he was no longer speaking to me. “Shadow, if you would, disable Dresden. We’ll talk some
sense into him later, in a quieter setting.”
He was talking to Lasciel’s shadow.
Hell, wizards didn’t have a monopoly on arrogance.
Neither did the Knights of the Cross.
I stiffened in place, my mouth half-open. Then I fell over sideways, body resting against
the boat’s steering wheel, my spine ramrod straight. I didn’t move, not one little twitch.
Nicodemus sighed and shook his head. “Dresden, I truly regret this necessity, but time is
growing short. I must act, and your talents could prove useful. You’ll see. Once we’ve
cleared some of these well-intentioned idiots out of our way…” He reached for
Fidelacchius.
And I punched him in the neck.
Then I seized the noose and jerked it tight. I hung on, pulling it tighter. The noose, another
leftover from Judas’s field, made Nicodemus more or less invulnerable to harm—from
everything but itself. Nicodemus had worn the thing for centuries. As far as I knew,
I was the only one who had worked out how to hurt him. I was the only one who had truly
terrified him.
He met my eyes for a panicked second.
“Lasciel’s shadow,” I told him, “doesn’t live here anymore. The Fallen have no power over
me. And neither do you.”
I jerked the noose a little tighter.
Nicodemus would have screamed if he could have. He thrashed uselessly, reaching for his
sword. I kicked it out of reach. He reached up and raked at my eyes, but I hunched my head
down and hung on, and his motions were more panicked than practiced. His shadow rose
up in a wave of darkness and fury—but as it plunged down to engulf me, white light shone
forth from the slits in the wooden cane sheath of the holy sword on my back, and the
shadow itself let out a hissing, leathery scream, flinching away from the light.
I was no Knight, but the sword did for me what it had always done for them—it leveled the
field, stripping away all the supernatural trappings and leaving only a struggle of mind
versus mind and will versus will, one man against another. Nicodemus and I fought for the
sword and our lives.
He threw savage kicks into my wounded leg, and even through the blocks Lash had taught
me to build, I felt them. I had a great handle on his neck, so in reply I slammed my
forehead against Nicodemus’s nose. It broke with really satisfying crunching sounds. He
hammered punches into my short ribs, and he knew how to make them hurt.
Unfortunately for him, I knew how to be hurt. I knew how to be hurt with the best of them.
It was going to take a whole hell of a lot more pain than this loser could dish out in the time
he had left to put me down, and I knew it. I knew it. I tightened my grip on that ancient
rope and I hung on.
I took more blows to the body as his face turned red. He got one of my knees with a vicious
kick as his face turned purple. I was screaming with the pain of it when the purple started
looking more like black—and he collapsed, body loosening and then going completely
limp.
A lot of people let up when that happens, when their opponent drops unconscious. But it
could have been a trick.
Bumping this because I think it would be a good debate if debated.
Composite ganon does not get the triforce of power
“Twilight Princess incarnation for round 1 unless there’s a better suggestion, I’m open to them.”
K, so that means we can also use feats from OoT BEFORE Link pulls the master sword from its pedestal, because that is TP Ganon before his failed execution.
That means Ganondorf can use the Death Curse that he put on the Deku Tree, among other things. does Harry have anything to stop something like that?
“What are sending Gannondorf into nevernever and closing the portal count as a win?”
Harry would basically have to kill Ganondorf before the King of Evil would be weak enough to get sealed behind the door. the sages were only able to seal him in the void of Twilight after he had been run through with the sage’s sword and DIED. Other than that, I suppose that depends on the circumstances. Pardon my ignorance on the univers Harry is from, I have never read the books, but is Harry perchance subject to grudges and anger issues? If so, Ganon still has a way to get out, because he feeds on that stuff and actually gets stronger from it. and eventually, just like in TP, he can get out again.
“Composite ganon does not get the triforce of power”
Ooh, that could be a reeeeeealy good match or a stomp. Don’t know enough about Harry’s feats to tell which.
So if this is TP Ganon, Soulfire might be enough to stun or even damage Ganon, but it will not be enough to put him down for good, or even for long. TP Ganon is actually one of the most durable incarnations, primarily because he has the ToP to defend him. It took the Fused Shadows, deity-infused Light Arrows, the Master Sword, AND his own magic being repelled against him to put him down. His defense power is almost ludicrous. Maybe we should start with WW Ganon instead…
Okay last post I can actually change anything on so making it only WW Ganondorf and if that’s not fair I’ll have to talk to Hitman.
WW Ganon does NOT have the protection of the ToP in his final fight with Link, hence my suggestion. Sounds, good, and I gotta go! Merry Christmas, all!
Merry Christmas I’ll wait until you return unless others debate this as well.
@Admiral at #50
Is this a good time to start this fight in deadly earnest now?
For my money’s worth, this fight castrates the mess Dresden got sent at in the 1st day of Last November 2012, with ludicrous ease.
Post-Changes Dresden’s one of the only people I’d know who could fight both an Individual Incarnation of Ganondorf and TC!-Ganondorf on his own, mono-a-mono if push comes to shove, as one of the guys I’d back up against Dresden outright could only go so far as to fight it out with TP Ganondorf in 1-vs-1, sadly.
“Okay last post I can actually change anything on so making it only WW Ganondorf and if that’s not fair I’ll have to talk to Hitman.”
-
Actually, we don’t. If the debating body comes to an agreement that the incarnation should be changed, it can be changed. It’s part of Admin’s ruling that seems to be forgotten. Admin just didn’t want Chuck to do what he did before and change the setting in the middle of the match.
I could swear i had debated on this at one point.Am i losing my mind?
-
Chuck did that?
@Councilor Aelfinn at #54
For all the wrong reasons at that, too, right?
The guy was a flamboyant homosexual who has next to no taste when he brought up that mess that started with Daken vs Solid Snake, I don’t care about how much he wants to be a hypocrite to be frank.
Enough on that, I’ll just say that I don’t mind that this fight is better* than the one from the 3rd of Last April 2012, not that said fight sucked though because I may as well say The Aeneid sucked if that’s the case.
I would mind if the fight gets atrocious and whatnot and it suddenly gets spitejacked or any other bad thing that can possibly go wrong, though.
So shall we get to the fight at hand?
In the events of TP or WindWaker, Ganondorf proved himself a very capable Swordsman, anyone wanna set reminders on if Post-Changes Dresden improved his Swordsmanship any bit?
1.) (Or at least less depressing, anywho!)
@Amm0 at #55
No, it was an army of Carniflexes that got hit with Universe!-busters, of course a homosexual did that!
I’ll refrain from going in-depth for the rest of the month though, failure in doing so will not do my mercy meter any favors one bit.
Back to the fight at hand:
I think your head is feeling okay as long as you’re sure you took enough meds, as long as you did that you’ll be okay.
I think it was during disqus thats why im not on here.
@Amm0 at #58
Well we’re both here now, I’m not in dread that I might mess the thread up anymore, where might I begin looking on Ganondorf?
For some reason or another I can only note things that involves Ganondorf if it shows him in a direct fight, no idea why either.
@Everyone else
Shall we resume the kombat?
Lets.
-
So, TP Ganon is an easy arrow timer, as he casually does flips over light arrows from near point blank, while taking full assault from WW Link (the best swordsman in the Zelda series to date).
-
Strength puts him as parrying blows from a guy who can do this:www.youtube.com/watch?v=VL_LbMCK0zM (see from 3:55-4:06)
-
As well as knocking said guy senseless twice with his bare hands (in this game, WW Link gets catapulted/ blasted thousands of feet into the air and gets faceplanted into tower walls…twice…not sure if it’s toonforce but he did it, as remained conscious enough to start treading water as soon as he splashed into it)
-
What are Dresden’s best physical feats?
Haha, whoops, that should have been WW Ganon, in this sentence: “So, TP Ganon is an easy arrow timer”
Dresden is also an arrow timer, having blocked arrows shot by zombies whilst riding a Zombie Trex powered by a one man polka band.
and www.icv2.com/images/21438FoolMoonV1HC_17-xlg.jpg
that may put him at bullet timer speeds not sure, Lowk posted it on the respect thread and I’m doubting he would take it out of context.
———
as far as strength:
“I didn’t know too much about how much weight lifters could, for example, bench-press. So I didn’t have a very good idea how I stacked up against plain old me. Or plain old anybody. Plus the wights for the bench press were marked in metric units, and I kind of fell asleep the day we learned to convert them to pounds.
But I’m pretty sure four hundred kilos isn’t bad.”
400 kilograms translates to 881.849 pounds, might as well say 882 pounds. An average weight lifter weighing 320 pounds can lift 425 pounds. Now I’m guessing Dresden was unequiped to go by standard bench record terms, the record for that is 715 pounds. So Dresden is able to bench more than a world record bench presser.
—————
since I gave it to him earlier Dresden also has one of the Swords of the Cross which…levels the field. It cuts away supernatural boosts of anyone the wielder is fighting so that it is a fair fight it’s also evils bane much like Soulfire is, so Dresden isn’t completely helpless here. I can repost the feats if you like.
@Admiral at #63
What about the Assassination attempts aimed at Dresden while he was about to get more hellish training as the Winter Knight, Post-Ghost Story?
@ Guardian
-
Now THIS is a match I think I’m going to like. Dresden has two weapons that can harm Ganon (he WILL need both), and he is at least as fast as Ganon himself. Looks like Ganon is still stronger, though. I still have two questions:
-
1. About the comic panel, couldn’t that just be interfering with someone’s aim? Dresden moving someone out of the way before the girl can react fast enough to pull the trigger? For me, it’s a little hard to place if the bullet wasn’t first fired in one panel, then evaded in the next, if you know what I mean. Deadpool dodged a bullet in another thread and nobody contested it because he was shot at in one panel, then dodged the bullet in the next.
-
2. What sort of supernatural stuff are we talking about here? Stuff like angels and demons or magic in general?
@Marcel
1. you’d have to talk to Lowk to be sure, as far as I know it’s not but never know.
-
2. Angels, Fallen Angels, Dragons, Vampires, Faeries, gods, it runs the gambit for all things supernatural and spooky and that bump around in the night, even then it’s also holy and has pushed back vampires and stunned other dark creatures with it’s light.
“About the comic panel, couldn’t that just be interfering with someone’s aim?”
-
This is why I put a question mark after I wrote Bullet dodging. I wasn’t sure myself.
Found the page that came before it.
www.icv2.com/images/21430FoolMoonV1HC_16-xlg.jpg
www.icv2.com/images/21438FoolMoonV1HC_17-xlg.jpg
So yeah it could be aim dodging. Which is makes sense that being human Dresden and not superhuman WK Dresden.
===
As far as physically before the WK status he was just a tough human, like along the lines of john mcclane in terms of how much of a beating he could take. He was much more of a barrier warrior(pardon the tvtroping usage), he mainly took blows using his shield.
Afterwards he his able to take hits from monsters that come around the range of flipping cars length wise(one handed)/pounding them with their bare hands and keep going. One was against the Ick the other was against the red king I think… or was the red king a strength feat?
Wasn’t Dresden as of Cold Days able to hold out against an enemy’s TK abilities?
@Lowk
I wasn’t sure either really.
Red King was strength though, he was hand to hand combating him.
“So yeah it could be aim dodging. Which is makes sense that being human Dresden and not superhuman WK Dresden.”
-
K, thx Lowk. Either way, Dresden still is an arrow timer, which puts him at around Dorf’s level anyway, right?
-
“Angels, Fallen Angels, Dragons, Vampires, Faeries, gods, it runs the gambit for all things supernatural and spooky and that bump around in the night, even then it’s also holy and has pushed back vampires and stunned other dark creatures with it’s light.”
-
So what exactly does the “cutting away” of those boosts entail? Is it just a reduction or a complete nullification? Even without the ToP, Ganon was killing minor deities in LoZ.
-
“Wasn’t Dresden as of Cold Days able to hold out against an enemy’s TK abilities?”
-
How strong was the opponent’s TK? Ganon held up a castle for three minutes while nearly unconscious.
Nicodemus with no sword of the Cross present
” Then he surged forward—fast. So fast that by the time I’d registered that he was moving,
my back had already hit the wall that had been twenty feet behind me. He hadn’t been
trying to hurt me. If he had, the back of my head would have splattered open. He just
pinned me there against the wall with one hand on my throat, tighter and harder than a steel
vise. ”
moves faster than Dresden can register and crosses another twenty feet in that time slamming Dresden into a wall. He held back just enough not to shatter Dresden’s skull and could have snapped his neck or worse at any time.
————-
While Dresden had the sword
” And I punched him in the neck.
Then I seized the noose and jerked it tight. I hung on, pulling it tighter. The noose, another
leftover from Judas’s field, made Nicodemus more or less invulnerable to harm—from
everything but itself. Nicodemus had worn the thing for centuries. As far as I knew,
I was the only one who had worked out how to hurt him. I was the only one who had truly
terrified him.
He met my eyes for a panicked second.
“Lasciel’s shadow,” I told him, “doesn’t live here anymore. The Fallen have no power over
me. And neither do you.”
I jerked the noose a little tighter.
Nicodemus would have screamed if he could have. He thrashed uselessly, reaching for his
sword. I kicked it out of reach. He reached up and raked at my eyes, but I hunched my head
down and hung on, and his motions were more panicked than practiced. His shadow rose
up in a wave of darkness and fury—but as it plunged down to engulf me, white light shone
forth from the slits in the wooden cane sheath of the holy sword on my back, and the
shadow itself let out a hissing, leathery scream, flinching away from the light.
I was no Knight, but the sword did for me what it had always done for them—it leveled the
field, stripping away all the supernatural trappings and leaving only a struggle of mind
versus mind and will versus will, one man against another. Nicodemus and I fought for the
sword and our lives.
He threw savage kicks into my wounded leg, and even through the blocks Lash had taught
me to build, I felt them. I had a great handle on his neck, so in reply I slammed my
forehead against Nicodemus’s nose. It broke with really satisfying crunching sounds. He
hammered punches into my short ribs, and he knew how to make them hurt.
Unfortunately for him, I knew how to be hurt. I knew how to be hurt with the best of them.
It was going to take a whole hell of a lot more pain than this loser could dish out in the time
he had left to put me down, and I knew it. I knew it. I tightened my grip on that ancient
rope and I hung on.
I took more blows to the body as his face turned red. He got one of my knees with a vicious
kick as his face turned purple. I was screaming with the pain of it when the purple started
looking more like black—and he collapsed, body loosening and then going completely
limp.
A lot of people let up when that happens, when their opponent drops unconscious. But it
could have been a trick. “
That encounter was one of the earlier encounters Dresden had with Archelone, Pre-Changes incarnations in fact.
The sword still worked against the Denarians all the same, EC rules dictate they’d work on other beings as well but they’d work especially well against malevolent cases.
@ Guardian Angel
-
So the sword just makes it a physical-to-physical thing, then? No magic involved for anybody?
@Marcel
I don’t know I’d have to double check to see if Dresden has used magic while using it but I think he can…not sure though.
But even if Ganon is a ways away…the sword can cut magic and telekinesis
” Then she swept her sword in an arc, slashing the very air in front of us in a single, whistling
stroke.
And the will of the Red King vanished. Gone.
The Red King let out a scream and clutched at his eyes. He screamed something, pointing
in Murphy’s direction, and in the same instant the rest of my friends gasped and rocked in
place, suddenly free. ”
————————————-
being wielded against 13 Mayan gods who are also vampires and there minions
” White light from the sword flowed down and over her, and her garments literally transformed,
as if that light had flowed into them, become a part of them, turning night to day,
black to white. She staggered to one knee and looked up, her jaw set in stubborn determination,
her teeth bared, her blue eyes, through the distortion, blazing like fire in defiance of thirteen
dark gods—and with one of the most powerful spirits I’d ever met gathered around her
head in a glowing golden halo.
Murphy came to her feet with a shout and a smooth stroke of the sword. The Lords of Outer
Night all reacted, jerking back as if they’d been struck a blow in the face. Several golden
masks were ripped from their faces, as if the blow had physically touched them—and the molten
presence of their joined wills was suddenly gone.
With a scream, the jaguar warriors, half-breed and vampire alike, surged toward Murphy.
She ducked the swing of a modern katana, shattered a traditional obsidian sword with a
contemptuous sweep of Fidelacchius, and struck down the warrior wielding it with a precise
horizontal cut.
But she was outnumbered. Not by dozens or scores, but by the hundreds, and the jaguar
warriors immediately fanned out to come at her from several directions. They knew how to
work together. ”
——————-
sword used against a wave of vampires
” Murphy did what no mortal should have been able to do—she cut a path through a mob of
warrior vampires. She went through them as if they’d been no more than a cloud of smoke.
Fidelacchius blazed, and no weapon raised against the Sword of Faith, neither modern steel
nor living relic, could withstand its edge.
Murphy hardly seemed to actually attack anyone. She simply moved forward, and when
attacks came at her, bad things happened to whoever had attempted to strike her. Sword
thrusts were slid gently aside while she continued onward, her own blade seeming to naturally,
independently pass through an S-shaped slash upon the opponent’s body on the way
through, wreaking terrible damage with delicate speed. Warriors who flung themselves upon
her found their hands grabbing nothing, their bodies being sent tumbling through the air—and
that horrible Sword of light left wounds in each and every opponent, their edges black and
sizzling.
They’d come at her in twos, and once, three of the jaguar warriors managed to coordinate
an attack. It didn’t do them any good. Murphy had been handling opponents who were bigger
and stronger and faster than her, in situations of real danger, since she was a rookie cop. The
vampires and half-breeds, swift and strong as they were, seemed no more able to beat her
down than had all of those thugs and criminals. Stronger though her enemies were, the blazing
light of the Sword seemed to slow them, to undermine their strength—not much, but
enough to make the difference. Murphy dodged and feinted and tossed warriors into one another,
using their own strength against them. The three-on-one she faced almost seemed unfair.
One of the jaguar warriors, armed with an enormous club, wound up smashing his two
compatriots, courtesy of the intern Knight, only to find his club sliced into three pieces that
wound up on the ground next to his own severed leg. ”
—————-
it levels the field enough for the wielder at that moment to fight monsters fairly. Also you do not want to be someone who pissed of capital G God when one of those swords are around because the Wielder becomes merged with one of God’s top Archangels, and you get…well imagine Samurai Jacks enemies if they weren’t robots….and I mean all his enemies. That would become you. That’s what this sword does to supernatural creatures. It makes it so your the robot fighting Samurai Jack, in other words it means the wielder will likely kick your ass because suddenly your super powers don’t work.
Um, wouldn’t the sword conflict with the WK mantle making so that Ganonndorf AND Dresden get brought down? I mean Dresden’s got some training but compared to a guy that tends to be on par with Link skill wise I don’t think Dresden is going to stand a chance in a straight up melee fight regardless of G being physically weaker.
@Lowk
it didn’t seem to screw with the enchanted gear Susan had gotten from Lea, or when she was veiled or her half vamp abilities that I recall either. and Bob wasn’t ill effected when he was on the same team as Murph in that very battle. It’s possible as long as it’s the wielders abilities they aren’t canceled the foe is just brought down enough the wielder can win?
*reads the last three comments*
Sounds like an uber sword plot device to me. What’s the upper limit? Big G shrugs off holy AND evil’s bane (your sword better be both), laughs and pulls out said property wielding sword from his chest, one shots a (Demi?)god in that state (water sage) simply curses another deity (deku tree was a god) to death, resurrects big ass baddies, can lock swords with link (even without strength boosters link has done some impressive things), etc
Hey GA the top says nothing about that sword, is that standard or no
“Big G shrugs off holy AND evil’s bane (your sword better be both)”
-
They are holy(of the god and angels type) that has shown to have a particularly dangerous and/or leathal effect against evil. From Fallen angels to good guys infected by evil like half vampires.
So would a heaven powered sword that rapes evil, wielded by a guy thats using angel given flame like ability be enough to qualify?
*judges debate*
….
….
….
You’re good
just remember these just hurt him. Carry on
@Senior Praetor at #80
Is this the part where things get interesting?
The sword, if it were necessary, could level the playing field even if Ganondorf were FTL and Dresden wasn’t, which would make things interesting to watch.
@Primus
I added the sword later because I wasn’t sure if Soulfire counted as evils bane and I didn’t want to get caught by the damn 50 post rule on what could be a very good match if executed correctly.
That’s honestly why I was annoyed at the initial lack of debate because I wanted a final answer on it but no one was debating.
@GA
I see. You were concerned Dresden didn’t have evil’s bane so you gave him in essence a super master sword cranked to 11? That’s like Batman when he had the green lantern ring bro LMFAO. Well G can dimension hip and OS a bitch to put down temporarily but that Swiss kinda cushions Dresden quite a bit…. Idk how I am on this one. I love G and on some ways he’s fucking hax but Dresden plus plot sword…. He’s gonna be hurting
Dimension hop*
Is a bitch*
That sword/dat sword*
In some ways*
/
/
/*shoots auto correct in the face with a Remington*
There
@Senior Praetor at #85
Are you okay, there?
@Primus
I figured Soulfire counted but no one would discuss it for me to be sure, I didn’t want to just say that Soulfire counts as evils bane just to give Dresden the ability, it seemed like that would be an abuse of the rules.
@Cross
I’m good just the hazards of using my phone.
-
@GA
I understand now. Better than assuming you’re being unfair. This is a good match btw. I think G could possibly take Harry even with the sword, but I’d represent him poorly. Harry also could (physically) end G as well, then soul Fuck him until the next incarnation lol. It’s just Gabondorf tanks so much shit in his games…. And he’s not even a natural demigod or anything
@Senior Praetor at #88
Just wanting to be sure, better to be safe than be sorry if anyone asks me.
TBF, this isn’t the only fight that needs revitalizing as I can name another that also needs it, to be fairer not all the match-up suggestors are gathered in place for said fight in question* so I can’t be sure if the fight set-up was managed correctly or not, either. T_T
Back to fight at hand:
To be fair on Ganondorf, I suspect an uphill fight might await one of the guys I’d back against Dresden outright mono-a-mono even if we went with an individual Ganondorf incarnation, power-set and all, and the fact that Post-Changes/Winter Knight Dresden has to duke it out with Total Composite!-Ganondorf in Round #02 is enough to tell me all the further that he’s The Boss fighting it out with another Big Boss.*
What else can I add?
1.) (The Jurai Empire vs the Daleks in case you’re wondering!)
2.) (Anyone noted what I did there with that Boss fight?)
“regardless of G being physically weaker.”
-
…Ganon physically weaker than Dresden? When Ganon physically pummels the crap out of a kid that can lift around ten tons? Doubt it.
-
As far as RT and speed goes, they appear to be about equal physically. Ganon has the strength edge, but how is Dresden’s combat skill? what type of styles/tactics does he use?
burn it, blow it up, flatten it, freeze it till it shatters, if that doesn’t work find a weakness to exploit and exploit the shit out of it, and if that fails outsmart it Batman style then proceed to fuck up the opponent.
the dude called an eldritch abomination a dickless freak and told it to come at him in the same sentence, that says something. And of course if all else fails, shoot it. He generally fights based on who or what he’s fighting, exploiting what he can to beat it.
basically think Spider-Man Batman and Doctor Strange rolled into one then replace radioactive spider with radioactive wizard.
Right, I get that he’s a magic force to be reckoned with, but in physical terms? Like, if the playing field is “level,” so to speak, what is Harry capable of hand-to hand? From the OP changes, he obviously has the sword, and from the picture I’m guessing he has a staff. He…doesn’t have a gun, does he?
He does have a gun,the sword that weakens people,so those to together i think gives this to him.
-
Get in range ganon is “Human” and then shoot him,
If I recall correctly, Dresden can now integrate spells and Soulfire into the bullets of his guns now, yes?
Since that was as of Cold Days, Post-Changes Dresden has that option going for him to consider.
actually, I didn’t specify if he had his 44 or not in this one.
I will say he would have his staff and blasting rod and his enchanted duster and rings if thats agreeable
I think since you didnt specify it would be what ever is his standard load out.
@Admiral at #96
Fair enough point with lack of specifications with whether or not Dresden has his gun on him, I just wanted to point out what I noted at #95 JSYK* is all.
1.) (That part was directed at everyone else, not necessarily at you!)
“I will say he would have his staff and blasting rod and his enchanted duster and rings if thats agreeable”
-
Call me ignorant, but I don’t know what those do.
-
@ Ammo
-
If it was Dresden’s standard loadout I doubt he would be getting that sword, as all of the quotes given for it were when someone else was using it.
Yes but He was given the sword for the match but his other stuff wasnt speficified so that leads me to believe that it would be sword and standard load out