(If you are not Strike or Chiaro, please don't reply.)
Strike left his sword safely in the Aether for now, for all great battles start off as they should; as men, lashing out with every aspect of their greatest weapon; their g0d-given bodies. Strike lunged forward, as Nid flew into the air effortlessly, flipping forward and over Strike's eminent attack. Strike skid to a halt as Nid soared over him, and kicked hard off the deck. Strike shot into the air with incalculable speed - matching Nid on every account. Indeed, only the end of this battle would determine the better of the two.
Strike pursued Nid, soaring into the air with a back-flip, landing a solid kick to Nid's lower back. The result was a loud splintering crack as Nid was shot face-first into the wooden deck, breaking two horizontal planks, but not shattering them. Nid spun from his face-plant, turning over and out of the angled wooden crater he had involuntarily created, just in time to avoid Strike's fist. The already-broken wood shattered completely - a raucous splash followed as chunks of the dock fell into the water. Strike sprang from the hole in the floor (which he had suspended himself above keeping both legs on the edge, like a spider) as Nid flipped to his feet. Both warriors met fist for fist, as Strike pummeled Nid with an aerial assault, using the force of each punch to drive him once more into the air. Nid successfully swiped each attack away.
Finally came the anomaly in all this repetition; Nid caught hold of Strike's wrist, and swung him down hard towards the deck. Strike acted fast, using both legs as springs to break his fall, and channeling the potential movement into his arms, continuing the throwing motion by launching Nid over his head in a smooth arc, throwing him violently into the wooden flooring. Nid's shoulder and right side drove through the wood, casting the legendary warrior through the dock and into the water, where a rain of splinters followed.
Rather than struggle for control over the loss of his lungs' functions to the warm waters, Nido accepted their embrace, and dove beneath. Strike stayed on guard, observing the pattern of Nido's swim, which suddenly ended as the warrior sprung from the waters, coming around forward and rolling across an opposite deck.
Strike advanced immediately upon his hopefully, but doubtfully stunned foe, and they engaged in combat on the middle dock of the ocean-side beach. Nido's raw strength was present as ever as Strike failed to completely dodge the second half of a four-piece combination, and a pair of thunderous hands, one right, one left, smashed into Strike's sternum with punishing force. The wind was kicked from his lungs and his mouth went dry for the gasp of pain, but he retaliated well, parrying a forward elbow and spinning into a suitable evasion which allowed him to sweep Nido's legs clear out from under him.
Nido crashed hard on his back, and rolled sideways immediately as a heavy foot came down to attempt to ruin his afternoon. Strike stomped forward, hoping to land at least one good blow while the chance was ripe, but Nido soon had him, ankle in hand, and not much later than that, Strike found himself being pulled, thrown, flipped and then slammed up and over, then down and in-- into the ground, and very hard, at that.
Nido sprung upwards, fresh with energy and poised for a long haul, and loosened his black robed tunic, allowing the gothic-style dressings to dangle from his muscular form. Strike was already picking himself up, and aside from a thumping chest bone and a sore back, he was as ready as his opponent was to once again redefine what battle truly was.
They clashed again.
Strike lunged forward; never much for calculation, Strike was much more of a berserker-style opponent. He often saved strategy and calculations for practice, anticipating situations and creating habits of evasion before battle. In the heat of things, he threw himself into the fight; a kind of sick joy rising in his chest as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Of course, Nid wasn't had so easily. He quickly turned to the side, a fist gliding past his abdomen. He followed this maneuver up with a quick backward lean, as a left uppercut glided right before his nose, which had narrowly evaded a kind of unpleasant sensation. Strike's left uppercut continued downward to his right, as he turned his motion into a spinning kick, which threw him airborne, as he completed a 360-degree spin lashing out with both legs. Both landed successively, and powerfully, as Strike pounded Nid's right kidneys with a force that would have obliterated the engine of a Semi truck. To Nid, this meant mere bruising, as he was inconveniently knocked off-balance and thrown in the direction of the dock's end.
The aerial kick also threw Strike in the opposite direction, which he quickly rectified by dragging his feet beneath himself - sliding to a halt as dust kicked up about his legs. He shot off like a rocket, leaving a further trail of dust in his wake, throwing himself atop his opponent.
He seized upon Nid from behind, throwing an arm around his head and locking him tight. There they grappled for an instant, Nid struggling to position his limbs in a satisfactory manner to throw his opponent. He was distracted, however, as relentless fist after fist pounded into his left temple, his skull rattling with pain as his skin gave out, splitting like the end of a football.
Strike slid off his opponent quickly, swiping Nid's legs in his arms, leaping high into the air, and slamming Nid upside-down, his body crumpling not unlike that roughly abused accordion found in your sweet auntie's attic.
Nido hit the ground with such impact he rolled over vertically enough times to dismantle his clothing and smear his face with his freshly drawn blood. Pushing himself upwards with honest effort after a grimace or two, Nido lapped the blood from wherever his tongue could reach on his face, which was now darkening with the crimson flow which seemed heavy from the wound at the head. Nido's long, flowing hair covered the wound to the point where Strike couldn't tell the extent of the damage dealt by sight alone, but the reaction in Nido was enough to let him know he had scratched some sort of surface.
Anticipating a reaction of rage, Strike sidestepped Nido's sudden forward charge, but was caught off guard when the warrior stopped abruptly and lashed backwards with a crippling, hooking sidekick. The angle of the kick and the position Strike was left in following initial evasion was a match made in heaven for Nido's offensive advantage, and the heavy-hitting warrior's kick showed some force of it's own. Strike was blown back, literally lifted off his feet, hurtled several feet and dropped into a fetal position on the dock with his ribcage seemingly threatening to give out completely.
Strike's moment of lost focus, thanks to a nearly crushed abdomen, was enough to allow Nido the advantage of momentum, continuing his current onslaught with a tight grab of Strike's leg followed by a twist and then lock.
Strike found Nido standing over him with his leg unnaturally twisted and bent within his grasp, a smug grin over his bloodied face that knew he had the possibility of snapping the bone badly enough to cause some serious disability. Opting for the better option of satisfying his battle craving, Nido figured Strike would fight better with two legs; he twisted violently and yanked his way out of the lock, horribly cracking Strike's leg regardless, but to a much lesser degree than something like a fracture.
His abdomen left his body a slave to its malfunctioning as far as breathing was concerned, and the new pain of a likely damaged leg clouded Strike's brain with that familiar battle-wracked haze.
Nido was poised and positioned, ready to continue when Strike felt recovered enough to go on. He had no need to beat a man when he was down; especially not a legend. If one of these warriors were to prove their legacy of power above the other, the only road would be that of honest battle.
There is a desire almost as heavy as the one to eat, more common than the sex drive, that drives each and every being in the universe; and how they manifest this desire is individual to every being. The overwhelming crave of importance. It is this crave that creates depression, loneliness, and boredom if not satisfied. It is not satisfying this crave that begins arguements and wars;
This crave fought with the desire to LOOK GOOD, because Strike was in an awful lot of pain right now, and were he in the vicinity of a femal significant other, he would probably express this desire to be taken care of and babied.
However, he was in the presence of a legend, so the desire was buried under two things; The desire to be brave and look good, and pain. Lots, and lots of pain.
Strike's breath rasped and shuddered as his body healed in a surprisingly quick manner; but it didn't lessen the pain any. Strike had already sat up, but each mere movement of his leg was simply excruciating.
The warrior grit his teeth, sucked in a breath, and got to his feet. The pain might have made him yell out, but there were other things to attend to. Even as he stood, the damaged bone and tendons began to mend, but performance wouldn't be up to scratch for some while now - and Strike had not the faintest inkling to bring magic into play this early in the bout. Better to suffer the natural consequences.
Strike stood, keeled over a bit, catching his breath. He looked up, his eyes filled with determination, like a cornered wildcat. And, like a wild animal, his eyes flashed, and he suddenly bolted sideways and, with a splash, disappeared beneath the water.
Swimming was much friendlier on his legs then running might have been, and it gave him the opportunity to travel using his powerful arms, whose muscles bulged against his shirt in effort. He was quick and agile, even with a limp leg that he refused to use so it would be allowed healing time, able to overtake even the swiftest dolphin.
Nid stood on the dock, ready. He could feel Strike's presence acutely, but his opponent was so quick under the water, he could not accurately pinpoint his location. Thus, he was prepared; though for what, he didn't have a clue.
A loud splash indicated movement, and Strike rose quickly out of the water, fist smashing against Nid's skull. This made no sense in Nid's mind, because he heard the splash in the opposite direction from whence the blow had come; but Nid had seen many things that made no sense to him, so it didn't really effect him too much. However, his vision was still adjusting when another successive hit smashed the opposite (left) side of his face, almost unhinging the jaw. A powerful uppercut finished the three-hit maneuver, which was topped like a beautiful dessert when Strike flipped high in the air, and allowed both legs to come smashing downward in a stomping motion on Nid's already-split skull, resulting in feelings that simply are not pleasent.
A splash, and Strike was gone again. Nid spat out a tooth before his retaliation.
Warm crimson filled Nido's cheeks as he casually spat what he could of it unto the ground, licking his lips as he savored the metallic taste of first blood. He had grown to aquire a taste for this familiar result of battle and war over the years of being slashed, cut, and otherwise split open, and as severely as his head was obviously damaged, it didn't seem to phase him very much. Quite similairly to his opponent, the pain was there, but in a way, it wasn't; it was just another part of the battle, as normal, expected and well-handled as the wood of the dock beneath their feet or the cool breeze which swept over the waters and moistened the air with the scents of salt and pungent fish.
Nido spat another tooth unto the ground, this one being more fang-like than the others. He had noticed several of his teeth taking on this beastly feature over the years, and although he had no real way to explain it, he simply attributed the so-called deformity to his genetics in the same way he did his impervious nature to the elements of flame, fire and heat.
Nido's entire head seemed to be somewhat distant from his body, and rightfully so; it was split open down the middle atop his skull, and the bone was damaged badly enough to cause serious concussion or likely death to your average everyday person.
Thankfully, neither Nido nor Strike fell into such a category, lest they have been dead within moments of the other's initial attacks. They knew each other's limits to power; or rather, their lack of limits to power. Their previous battle had been more of a war than a fight involving every elemental, spiritual and astral force one could imagine could be conceived by the mere power of a warrior's soul and mind in the perfect unison; the unison that Nido looked to form once more in this new and fresh battle; this new and fresh war.
Nido leaped high and far across the docks, jutting rock islands and other floating devices as he tracked Strike's progress, waiting for the warrior to spring out of the water, which he did in a dolphin flip which brought him to a steady stance upon a rock plateau some twenty feet above the water. Nido was quick to follow.
Nido's bloodied face twisted into a devious grin, and as he kicked off the ground, his body became an aerial missile, propelling up and over into a frontal flip. As bulky as he was with the weight of muscle and large build, Nido was very agile in his acrobatic attacks, and decided to show Strike he hadn't lost this quality with time nor age. The rotation took but a second, although it seemed much longer to Strike who was bracing himself best he could for absorption, block, or evasion of the attack. He found this of little use, however, as instead of a leg or arm lashing out at him, he found Nido's entire body smashing into his own.
The heavy tackle brought Nido's weight crashing down over Strike with great momentum, built up to strength by the force of his movements. The warrior found himself pinned beneath his friend and adversary, who picked himself off of Strike only to come down again, and hard; this time bringing a sharp knee into Strike's sternum. The precision of the blow seemed as bad as being stabbed by blade, and although the resulting damage wasn't similar, Strike's reaction certainly was. He struggled for air, writhing upon the ground as an already tender chest suddenly became a major focus of the warrior's mind, even more so than his damaged yet significantly healed leg.
Nido had flipped away again, cartwheeling and rolling into retreat more for a test of his abilities with the head wound than for actual evasion purposes. Strike was still picking himself up with some difficulty from the crushing force across the better region of his body, and the problems in his chest were getting worse and worse. As Nido drew himself into stance, more blood dripped lazily down his head and rolled into his eyes, annoying him enough to commence with application of pressure to the wound. His hair had become saturated and stained in red, sticking in sickening clumps to the open wound.
Printing now, replying soon - sorry my online access has been so limited, but that shall be remedied this very week, hopefully! =D
OoC: Take your time. I'll probably be laying off the internet this weekend anyways because my oral surgery went horribly wrong earlier today and I'm not in good shape.
Strike
[COLOR="navy"]Strike’s reflexes suddenly tightened like a finely tuned drum. His eyes flashed like a wildcat, as he crawled to all fours, and pounced forward upon his prey. Swiping fists pummeled at Nido, caught by strong fists that were beginning to struggle in keeping up. Strike’s blows were un-calculated, scattered, and utterly random. There was no rhyme nor reason to the attack, as Strike attacked countless times with his fists, swiping low with his legs; assaulting Nid relentlessly with fists, knees, elbows, legs - lashing out with every limb, like the octopus who plays the drums.
The moment came when his animalistic style soon caught Nido off-guard, smashing a stray elbow into Nid’s critically shattered nose, blood squirting into the air from his highly tender skull as his head rocked back with dreadful force. Strike swung his entire body back, balanced on his left arm, and shoved both legs into his opponent’s gut, jabbing violently beneath the ribs and casting the larger warrior airborne.
Strike’s passionate full-bodied kicking motion threw him past the blow’s impact and also into levitation, as he pursued Nid with impulsive doggedness. His avian body rotated savagely as he caught Nido’s right ankle tightly in his left fist. The heavenly youth snarled at his new advantage as he spun his limbs ferociously, projecting himself into a fierceful spin. Like a reckless vortex he surged, his prey fixedly in hand, until he had gathered an appeasing amount of accelleration.
He gathered all his strength, and using it to enhance natural momentum, he hurled the emerald-haired warrior towards the dock. He hung in the air for a moment, savoring the violent explosion of splitting wood mixed with a boisterous splash. His opponent was hurled brutally through the solid wood beams, bones splintering bitterly upon contact. His moment of appreciation was only just that - a moment - before he resumed the livelihood of pursuit. He let out a maniac cackle - he was on the hunt.
His raggedly conditioned opponent was presently pitched into the ocean through terribly solid elements, and Strike flung himself fearlessly behind. A coy splash was the only indicator of entrance as his body flushed almost instantly with the water. A blade sliced through the water unexpectedly, and it clashed with awful force against the indestructable ore that comprised Strike’s bow-staff. The marvelous silvery weapon was simple and beautiful. It stretched a little beyond Strike’s full height, the top adorned with a crystalline orb known to some as the Dragon’s Eye.
The eye glinted as two weapons quivered ominously under water, and suddenly both warriors seemed to be pulled swiftly from the ocean’s depths by unseen forces, landing lightly on the beach’s softly damp bank, facing opposite each other with weapons in hand.
[COLOR="lightgreen"]“I feel stretched,”[/COLOR] said Strike, rubbing a bruise where he had been pummeled some time before. [COLOR="lightgreen"]“Let’s move on to warm-ups...”[/COLOR][/COLOR]
And almost in an instant, the battlefield was full of spark and sound as the majestic blades of the warriors clashed heavily, erupting into a metallic dance of thrust, slash and parry. Nido's crystal-edged blade, sharp as fangs, curved in and out from offense to defense and back again, and Strike's position was quite similar. Both master swordsmen, they knew each other's styles too well from all of their past encounters, and they knew the result of this phase of battle would be partly cast in luck.
Strike thought he was lucky for a moment as his downward slash eluded defensive maneuvers and cut flesh, but it was only a few short exchanges later than Nido shoved forward with tremendous force and push Strike away from their current entanglement, staying agressive and following through with a clean cutting motion that ripped away the clothing from Strike's right side and sliced neatly into his body. A swipe of crimson spat across the translucent blade as Strike parryed forward, having no time to assess to his wounds. Nido's own wound had taken to staining his dragonhide clothing dark red, but he stayed equally agressive, avoiding Strike's next few advances.
The screaming blades continued to clash in and out of stance until they locked in parry, resulting in Nido lunging forward with a stunning elbow to Strike's jaw, off-balancing the warrior enough to allow a second hit with the heavy hilt of the sword. The melee attacks left Strike's face even worse for the wear, crushing part of his cheekbone and bruising it badly.
Not one to damage easily, Strike didn't lose a beat to the rhythm of battle, and instantaneously, their blades met again.
(Ah, my writing is undoubtedly rusting up quickly as I took my little break. Back to elbow grease...)
[COLOR="Navy"]Of all the things you could be reading this afternoon, this should be the last. Your life will gain absolutely no benefit from digesting the next few paragraphs which contain a history I have taken the responsibility to record. A newspaper, for example, will give you facts as viewed or skewed by professional journalists - telling you all sorts of usefull things from gas prices to your horoscope, or who's killed who lately. A cardboard pop-up book can entertain a child, or even be fun by yourself when adding in your own sound effects.
But this record, my friend, will benefit you nothing, unless you wish to read of the pain experienced by two legendary warriors as they grappled for an upper hand in this bout.
If you bang two sticks together hard enough or long enough, they will snap. If you run a large semi truck against a two-by-four piece of cedar, it will be obliterated. "Obliterated" here means 'snapped in an explosive manner, involving many splinters'. If two supernatural forces weild metal with uncalculable force, the swords would undoubtedly shatter in an instant if made of any earthly material.
But the two warriors had obtained weapons nearly as indestructable as themselves. What happens when two nearly invulnerable beings grapple in an onslaught of violence for an upper hand of control? If you're imagining an ending of glory and a satisfied lust for blood, you're reading the wrong thing this afternoon, and I suggest you go to your local convenience store and pick up a newspaper and cardboard pop-up book, (as long as you're quite talented at sound effects, like some.)
Nidoking's horoscope, which he never bothered to read, told him that he would meet someone special that day, and not to hold back behind his shyness.
Strike's fortune cookie, since he does not believe in horoscopes, said that he would be hit with a bolt of inspiration and creativity. Strike does not necessarily believe in fortune cookies either, but he enjoys reading them and tagging on 'while on the toilet' at the end.
And while the attractive girl who handed Nido's doughnut breakfast to him that morning at the Quick-R-Mart might or might not be that special person for him, Strike was indeed unique enough to qualify as 'someone special'. And I don't mean Ed.
And while we have yet to see Strike's bolt of inspiration, he was suddenly hit by a bolt from the blue. This phrase means that something horribly unexpected was just realized; something that might make your stomach go sick, your knees go wobbly, and you want to cry and lay in bed for the rest of the week. While Strike was quite busy parrying Nido's sword thrusts with his bow staff, he was hit by this bolt from the blue, as he realized that he was very much out of shape.
He was pushed back regularly, each foot Strike gained was countered by a yard lost. His speed was not up to scratch, and his muscles ached with exhaustion that made him want to plop onto a couch as opposed to battling a supernatural being. He quickly began to realize that he needed to tap into something... some potential he had not been using in some time.
And while Nido was never hit with a bolt of inspiration, proving that fortune cookies are probably never right even when handed to the wrong person, he was now suddenly hit by a bolt of lightning many times more powerful than any that had plagued the ground of any land in any country on earth ever in history and for many 'forever's to come.
Static electricity, my friend, is something that forms in some conditions, one of them being friction. And the friction fueling much of this bolt of electricity leaping threateningly from Strike's being came from his mind's quick resolve for his precarious position - inspired from the previously mentioned bolt from the blue.
Nido was also hit by a bolt from the blue, when he realized that this battle was just about to take a different turn. He was violently thrown many yards backward, smashing painfully into a bankside cliff, clumps of earth falling about and on top of him. Arcs of electricity flecked this way and that visually, but our earth's scientists theorize that the visual light manifested from electricity is very much smaller than the force of the element itself. While a few bits of electricity seemed to trail relentlessly through and around him, many, many volts of electricity swarmed instantaneously through the warrior's flesh, seizing his bodily functions, stopping his blood flow, and stunning him much more effectlively even than the bolt from the blue.
Cold steel heated by heavenly shock cleaved bone and sinew as the tip of Strike's 'Order of the Rose' slid smoothly into Nid's chest on the right side. He jolted uncomfortably as a new dosage of lightning fled through him and into the ground. Strike's staff had morphed into a beautifully designed silvery katana, a white orb crystal hanging from a six inch silver chain fastened at the end of it's hilt.
And now Nido found himself in quite a position. He could hardly move, his wound hardly even bleeding because of his stopped circulation, and his body was not in the best of conditions. Nido was too stunned for his legs to become wobbly; but his stomach felt very much felt sick, and he might very much have preferred to lay in bed for a few days at this point. He had been hit by a bolt of lightning and a bolt from the blue at the same time,
and now if he could only be hit by a bolt of inspiration...[/COLOR]
A bolt of inspiration, indeed. Not a bolt of lightning, like he had just taken, but a bolt of inspiration would have been fine. But alas, lightning it was, pure elemental electricity, and the aftershock-static of Strike's charged sword was causing all sorts of problems for Nido. His brain was fried enough as it was, but now he literally pondered whether or not something had been damaged up there, for his head was ringing almost as violently as the muscles around the stab wound were throbbing in response to their sudden short circuit. Nido was pushing past the pain, though, and convincing himself that he was alright...which was far from the truth, but in his mind, seemingly acceptable. He was back on his feet, his legs threatening to give way to the ground and his stomach threatening to give way to vomit, but only his body knew this; not his mind.
His mind was somewhere else; his mind was going to get that bolt of inspiration, and retribution was inspiration enough for any battler within sane mind. The lightning may have killed off a few thousand brain cells, but Nido was still alert enough to know that he was at war. Again. And when you went to war with Strike, you had to bring an arsenal. So, Nido began to round that arsenal together with this bolt of inspiration.
As Strike had made retreat after the stab of the sword, the distance between the two men was now of more than several yards; it was more like several dozen. Nido's mind wanted to fight, but his body needed a moment more to recover, and as his physical self seemed unwilling to move, he left it up to his mentality to make the moves for him. Before Strike realized Nido was attacking at all, the crumbled stone around Nido began to cluster together along the ground and fling itself into the air, propelled forward by telekenesis and thrown at Strike with astounding speed. The first few lumps of rock and debris were easily batted away via sword, but as their flight became irregular and ungraceful, several masses of stone were able to find their target, slamming hard and slamming fast into various points on Strike's body. He stumbled back, becoming stunned, refusing to stop defending but finding himself less and less able; he wasn't quite sure if more rocks were being thrown or defenses were getting weaker, but either way, he caught a heavy set of clumps right across the face, causing the stone to split apart and becoming debris once more as the warrior fell back, blood pooling within his mouth and running off of his lips.
As Strike fell back, Nido came forward, and the telekenesis became more controlled. The clumps of rock had indeed become bigger, much bigger at this point, and as he collected the final scraps of debris into one destructive boulder, Nido used the last of his psychic endurance to slam the thing forward and into Strike's body like a literal bus. The impact hit Strike like a bus would have, too, and threw him backwards more feet than Nido could seem to count, causing him to lose his grip on the Order Of The Rose as it fell with a clang against the rocky surface. Strike fell, too, but with a thud instead of a clang, into a pile of flesh, bone and blood atop the ground below. Nido finally cut off his grip on the bearings of space around him, and fell heavily to one knee, using this time of Strike's pain for his own personal physical and mental gains.
(*******IT NID, every time I try to respond to this it's erased my reply, and it's enough to make a guy go nuts.... permanently!!!)
There is a man named Will who runs a used book store in downtown Vileton. Will is an eccentric old man with a hooked nose and silvery hair that runs in a horseshoe around his head. This leaves a nice shiny bald spot that combined with his narrow specs shows his wizened age, or flags down helicopters. Will is a pleasant man with a good sense of humor, and often gives discounts to regular customers, or poor college students trying to get their start. However, this record is not about this man. It is about a different will... the will of an age-old warrior who had just got the tar beat out of him.
Strike's body lay crumpled and broken on the ground. His functions, energy, and strength were all very minimal now – hindered greatly by both pain and punishment. All physical resources were now in a mad dash attempt to repair his body, but Strike's will was unwavering. And it was this iron-hard will that now lashed out at his opponent.
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Nido was suddenly dazed.
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Nido was dazed. When he came to he was hurtling sideways through the air like an oddly formed golfboll, and his head and shoulders seared with the pain of blunt impact. Suddenly that impact repeated itself, and Nid gasped as the pain edged along his mind, a huge blunt force smashing him in the opposite direction. Another repeated force hit him from below, and he rocketed upward, flopping about like a wounded hackey-sack. Then Nido suddenly saw
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His body rested uncomfortably wedged into the earth by an impact of brute force that had come from above like an apocalyptic fly swatter from hell. Nid never saw it, first of all because it was invisible solidified air wielded by Strike's will and elemental influence – second because all he had seen were stars.
OoC: while you're most recent post has confused me quite a bit as to what it was all about I'll do what I can to get some sort of a decent reply up for you shortly. Been very busy with work and other arrangements here and there and the fact I'm drifting further and further from this type of writing is a combination for very poor quality on my behalf.
Don't bother Nid. You're no fun anymore.