| “ | Take whatever booty you can find, but remember: the Beast is mine!
— Gaston
|
” |
In a small town in France, Gaston is the local hero. A strong, albeit dim-witted, man of impressive skill and community service, Gaston is also a proud and boastful man. Although meaning well at heart, Gaston's pride is brutally wounded when he is rejected by the town's most intelligent girl, Belle. When Belle is taken hostage by the Beast, Gaston initially ignores her father Maurice, who comes to town in a dazed and confused manner. Finally having enough with Maurice as Belle bonds with the Beast, Gaston forces him into an insane asylum unless Belle accepts his marriage proposal.
Gaston is just about to close his offer when Belle arrives with Beast's mirror, proof that he is not insane. Realising Belle loves him instead of Gaston, the jealous hunter inspires a murderous rage against the Beast. Gaston and his mob lay siege to the Beast's castle, where they use a battering ram to break open the door. As the villagers get into a pitched battle with the castle's furniture, Gaston nearly murders the depressed Beast. Although the Beast does rally against Gaston once he realises Belle will return, the Beast spares Gaston. Still furious, Gaston stabs the Beast fatally until he falls to his death after slipping.
Battle vs. Clayton (by MilitaryBrat)[]
Gaston is taking a hunting trip in Canada for the month when he hears something like the breaking of a twig behind him. He turns around and blasts it with his blunderbuss. It's a very large, very fine Elk.
"This will make Belle love me. For sure."
"Frenchman!!!That was my game."
Gaston turns around to see Clayton standing over him
"Well you should have been faster to shoot it then." Gaston replies.
Suddenly in a fit of rage Clayton swings with his machete and nearly hits Gaston. Gaston rolls away from the blade and pulls his knife out of the sheathe. He stabs Clayton in the leg with it then runs back to his base camp. Clayton limps back to his camp and treats his wound and gets his double barrell. He goes looking for Gaston and comes accross his camp. He sees something in Gaston's tent and thinks its him and comes down on him with both barrells. But its not Gaston as Clayton discovers with an arrow through the back from the trees above. Gaston comes down from his tree and slits Clayton's throat for good measure.
WINNER: Gaston
Expert's Opinion[]
N/A
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Rematch vs. Clayton (by MovieStuff65)[]
Prologue
In the dying twilight of summer in a forest near a French village, a lone bear clumsily stumbles towards its cave in the mountains. Dragging the corpse of a fine elk with it, the bear pays little attention to the faint smell his nose detects. Lazily raising his head around to half-heartedly investigate the source, his tired eyes don't catch the Englishmen carefully aiming his shotgun.
Lowering his head, he takes a single step before snapping it back up. His eyes suddenly spring awake as his nose picks up the poignant scent of gunpowder, but this does little as a shotgun shell slams into his shoulder with a bang.
"Blast it!" Clayton yells as the bear roars in a rage. Before he can reacquire his aim, however, an arrow slams into the bear's neck. The creature stumbles slightly, roaring and mouth covered in saliva and foam, before collapsing.
"What the-" Clayton and his hunting party swiftly exit their hiding spot on above the bear's rock cave, and look into the clearing below them. As they do, they see a small group of local villagers parading towards the bear.
"No one shoots like Gaston! No one hunts like Gaston!" They sing, hefting axes and a wide assortment of improvised weapons. Leading them is a large, burly man in a red shirt, black pants, and long purple cloak. He brandishes his bow like a scepter.
"Ahahahaha! That's right, I am Gaston! The ultimate specimen of a man!" He boasts as he lifts his bicep, and the peasants cheer with him.
"You!"
The cheering halts, with Gaston looking upward at the strangers. "What do you want?"
"That's my prize! Don't you dare touch it!" Clayton yells, his once combed hair now sticking out in anger.
Gaston chuckled, despite being annoyed at the arrogance of this stranger. "Is that so? Well, too bad- I heard your shot, but it was I, Gaston!, who felled the beast."
Clayton snarled, hefting his shotgun to his shoulder.
"We'll see about that!"
Battle
Gaston: 
x 5
Clayton: 
x 5
As Clayton's pirates charged down to face Gaston, the villager were spurred into a rage to protect their friend. Clayton blasted away with his shotgun, narrowly missing Gaston as he rolled to the side. The hunter swiftly nocked another arrow and released. The projectile fell short of Clayton, however, slamming into the chest of a mercenary.
Realizing Gaston's range advantage, the pirates sought cover while the villagers scaled up the hillside. One wielding a hatchet leaped over a rock, wielding chopping at a sailor with a whaling hook. Easily sidestepping the clumsy swing, he struck the villager in the face. As he recoiled, the whaling hook swung easily through his neck.
Savagely ripping the hook out, chunks of throat and bone still attached, the sailor quickly had to contend with a villager with a pitchfork. The four remaining henchmen of each hunter continued with a brutal melee, the sounds of battle roaring in the cliffside.
Clayton himself had moved down, blasting away to suppress Gaston. As he moved down, a villager swung his now-lit torch at him. He ducked, and slammed the butt of his shotgun into his gut. Stunning him, Clayton shot the villager below the knee. As he screamed, Clayton ruthlessly grabbed his shoulder and threw him over the cliffside.
He fell with a scream, swiftly cut as he slammed into the ground.
The villagers' assault briefly halted, starting to comprehend how well over their heads they were in. A sailor with a cutlass hit a villager with the hilt. As he was about to land the killing blow, however, a hunting knife flew into his forehead.
"Gaston! You've come to save us!"
The villagers rallied as Gaston charged, bow and arrow in hand. A sailor swung his crowbar, but Gaston shoved him aside to nock an arrow. Before the sailor could retaliate, a villager's pitchfork pierced its way into his back, before shoveling off the cliffside as well.
Gaston released his arrow, but Clayton rolled to the side and returned fire with his shotgun. The blast missed Gaston, but slammed into the chest of a villager. . Another sailor, crowbar in hand, ran after the hunter.
Gaston grabbed his arm and threw him at a torch wielding villager. The peasant swung the lit weapon, catching the sailor's shirt on fire as it hit him in the chest. Filled with adrenaline-fueled rage, the sailor swiftly countered with a crushing blow to the knee. The villager stumbled, his torch landing in a patch of dry grass to the side, and stood up to a downward-swinging crowbar.
As the torch's flames consumed the forest, the hunters and their couple remaining men continued fighting. Gaston's quiver had now run empty, as had Clayton's ammo pouch. The former sprinted over to his thrown knife, while Clayton unsheated his machete. As he chopped at the hunched over Gaston, a villager parried with his hatchet. "Go, Gaston!" He yelled, hacking away with his weapon.
The noble obliged him, withdrawing his hunting knife as a sailor wielding a whip lashed at him. He yelped as the whip wrapped around his arm, but quickly yanked his foe to him. Left unbalanced, the sailor fell right into Gaston's knife.
Behind him, the villager had overextended and caught it in a tree. Clayton hacked away with his machete, cutting off both of his hands. As the villager screamed, Clayton punted him into the ever-growing forest fire. Gaston, realizing he was alone, started to sprint away.
"Don't let that bastard escape!"
Clayton and his last pirate gave chase, machete and cutlass in hand. The two stopped in another clearing, the forest surrounding them now a glorious blaze. As they looked around for their foe, Gaston emerged from behind them.
With a yell, he swung a heavy tree branch coated in flames into the skull of the pirate.
"I was going to let you walk away!" Gaston yelled as he swung the improvised club again. Clayton easily dodged it, and swung his machete. In his defense, Gaston raised the branch, which shattered. The machete swung down further, leaving a large cut down Gaston's hairy chest.
"What the-"
Clayton slapped Gaston, sending him sprawling away. The nobleman swiftly stood back up, hunting knife draw. "Nice try, fool. But I wouldn't let some fool like you get away from me!"
Roaring, Gaston charged. Clayton sidestepped, and left another huge cut along Gaston's back. The hunter limped down to his knees, struggling to breath. Unwilling to give up, however, Gaston gave one last, valiant thrust at Clayton.
"Pathetic..." Clayton said, tapping the weak attack away and kicking his downed foe.
"Now...I...will....END YOU!"
Gaston looked up as the machete swung down, landing itself firmly into his skull.
Clayton unceremoniously yanked it out of his foe's head, his face split down the middle. Spitting on the corpse, Clayton abandoned the weapon and calmly straightened his hair.
The hunter then sprinted away, to escape the flaming forest and the wrathful village he knew would hunt him down.
They'll try, I suppose he thought smugly to himself, running back as victor.
WINNER: Clayton
Expert's Opinion[]
Between these exceptionally skilled hunters, it was ultimately Clayton who prevailed in the match. While Gaston was superior both physically and as a leader, he was simply unprepared for Clayton and his men. More prone to rage and leading ill-equipped villagers, Clayton had easy prey despite Gaston's initial range advantage.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Rematch Information[]
Movie thought that the presentation of the original match was sloppy and the battle itself weakly written. People agreed.
Battle vs Prince Charming (Shrek) (by Wassboss)[]
It’s business as usual in the Poison Apple, the place where all the fairytale villains gather to drink and gamble and fight. Tonight is a particularly rowdy night as a group of men from a nearby village have joined the usual rouges gallery and are drinking and singing loudly. Prince Charming sits, alone, at the bar cradling a Fuzzy Navel, trying to ignore the nasty looks he gets from anyone who walks past him. His mind is consumed by anger at the injustice of it all. Why should is he ,Prince Charming, sat in a dingy bar drinking his troubles away when he should be king of Far Far Away, enjoying banquets and mixing with royalty. His thoughts are interrupted as a brawl breaks out between the villagers and one of them barges into him, making him spill his drink down himself.
“Watch where you’re going you malignant oaf” he snaps and tries to wipe himself down with his handkerchief. He feels someone standing behind him and turns his head to see a large muscular man looking down at him.
“What did you call me” the man snarls and jabs his finger into Charming’s shoulder.
“Nothing” Charming says quickly but the man doesn’t back down.
“I don’t know what you called me but nobody takes that tone with Gaston” the man snarls again and pushes Charming out of his seat. He scrambles backwards and the man advances of him, rolling up his sleeves ready to fight.
“Let’s not be too hasty now” Charming says cowering. He’s so focused on Gaston that he isn’t watching where he is going and he trips over the leg of one of the patrons. He topples back and lands head first in a bucket of water, leaving him flopping about on the floor. A silence descends over the bar as everyone looks towards the sound of the disturbance. Then like a dam breaking the jeering and teasing starts. Everyone in the bar points and laughs at the drenched prince, slapping the tables in amusement. Gaston leads the way with a deep and hearty laugh and Prince Charming looks around bewildered and embarrassed. He gets to his feet and pushes his way through the other villains to the exit, desperately trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll teach that brute a lesson” he blubbers and disappears off into the night.
Gaston:
Prince Charming:
“Three cheers for Gaston” the villagers shout drunkenly. The moon shines down on the forest as the men head back to their village from the Poison Apple, their voices echoing through the otherwise silent night. Gaston leads the way with LeFou scampering along next to him.
“You sure showed that prissy prince at the bar earlier” he says.
“Of course I did LeFou. Nobody messes with Gaston.” The other villagers cheer the boast and it’s not long before they erupt into singing.
“No one’s been like Gaston, a king pin like Gaston. No one’s got a swell cleft in his chin like Gaston”
“As a specimen, yes, I’m intimidating” Gaston continues and jumps onto a tree stump and flexes his muscles, much to the delight of the villagers. “My what a guy that Gaston!” Their singing is soon silenced as something whistles out of the darkness of the forest. The men barely have time to register what the noise is before LeFou clutches at his neck, gasping, and fall face down on the ground. Gaston immediately stoops down to LeFou and touches his hand to his neck, feeling the sickly sensation of blood. He turns him over and sees a crossbow bolt lodged in LeFou’s neck. He narrows his eyes and raises his hand to the villagers to calm them.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones in this forest tonight” he says and straightens up, scanning the forest for any signs of the attacker. “Show yourself at once,” he demands “or are you too much of a coward to face me.” The words hang in the air for what seems like an eternity before shadowy silhouettes slip out from behind the trees. Gaston watches as four mean looking bandits grin menacingly at him and snorts. “So these are the pathetic lowlifes who dare to attack Gaston” he says and the bandits tense in anger.
“Watch your mouth pretty boy or I’ll give you a good stabbing” one of the bandits snarls and draws a dagger from his pocket.
“I’d like to see you try” Gaston growls back “Now tell me which one of your cowards shot my friend LeFou so I can teach you how to fight like a real man.”
“That would be me” a voice calls from the darkness. Gaston recognises the voice from somewhere but he can’t think where.
“Come out from the shadows and speak to me face to face” he calls out to the mysterious man. The moons gleams off something bright and Gaston throws himself to the ground as a another crossbow bolt shoots out of the gloom, skimming fast him and lodging itself in the tree. “Let’s teach these farmers a lesson boys” the lead bandit roars and they advance on the villagers, drawing their weapons as they do. The villagers back off terrified but Gaston steps between them and the bandits, brandishing his blunderbuss. He fires off three shots in quick succession and they all strike the lead bandit in the chest, dropping him like a dead duck in flight . This spurs the villagers into action and they shout defiantly, taking out pitchforks and axes to attack the bandits. One of them swings a hatchet at a bandits head but the clumsy attack is easily dodged and the bandit thrusts his sword into the off balanced villager.
He then turns his attention to Gaston, who is backpedalling frantically while trying to reload his blunderbuss. The bandit charges at him and brings his cutlass down in a downward chopping motion forcing Gaston to swing his blunderbuss around to block the blow. He then delivers a powerful kick which sends the bandit flying back before finishing reloading and squeezing the trigger. However the sword blow has done some serious damage to the barrel and the blunderbuss collapses in his hand. “Stupid Contraption” he shouts and draws his hunting bow from the hook on his belt, notching an arrow and aiming it at the bandit who steadies himself on a tree. He fires the arrow with such force and at such short range that it not only pierces the bandit’s stomach but explodes through the other side and pins him to the tree, shouting painfully. Another arrow silences his shouts and Gaston turns his attention back to where the villagers and bandits are fighting.
What he sees does is not good. There are now two bodies lying on the ground as another villager has been killed by the bandits’. The other two villagers are trying desperately to hold off their opposite number but they lack the fighting experience of the bandits and are being driven back. Just as Gaston is about to charge in another crossbow bolt whistles from the darkness and hits one of the villagers in the ribs. His eyes widen in shock and this gives one of the Bandits the chance to slash him viciously across the face with his sword. Seeing the situation is now dire Gaston shouts out to the last remaining villager and flees deeper into the forest. The villager uses his pitchfork to sweep the legs out from under the two bandits and sprints after him. Shouting curses one of the bandits darts off after his fleeing opponents immediately. “Come on Charming we’ve got them on the run now” the other shouts before following suit and disappearing into the darkness.
After a short while the unmistakable face of Prince Charming emerges from behind some cover and strides across the abandoned battlefield, pleased to see more of the villagers lying prone than his own men. As he passes one of the motionless bodies it suddenly springs into life and grabs onto his boot and he lets out a girly shriek in surprise. He quickly composes himself as he sees it is the villager he hit with the crossbow bolt earlier, the gash across his face having blinded him. “Gaston?” he asks weakly.
“How dare you touch me you filthy peasant” Charming says indignantly as he draws his sword from its scabbard. He presses the tip against the villager’s neck and pushes his weight down on it, slowly piercing through the neck. The grip on his boot tightens briefly before going completely slack and he wiggles it off of him. Charming wipes his boot in the grass nearby and marches off in the direction his men were heading in.
The two bandits peer into the gloom around them, having lost sight of the two men they were pursuing. “Where the hell did they go?” one ofthem asks impatiently. The other bandit shrugs his shoulders.
“Maybe they just fled back to their village after seeing how easily we slaughtered them” he suggests.
“I’m not sure. That big guy sounded like the proud type so I don’t think he’d flee so readily.” He sheathes his sword. “Still they’re not here at least so we’d better see if we can find Charming and figure something out.”
“Charming” the other bandit grumbles and spits on the floor in contempt “why are we helping that whining bastard anyway?”
“He offered to reward us handsomely if we helped him teach that Gaston fellow a lesson. A although I’m starting to think maybe we should just rob his money and leave him here to freeze” The two men laugh and as they turn to leave one of them sees something glimmer in the darkness, just for a second. Before he can alert his ally an arrow pierces through the darkness and hits him square in the throat.
The other bandit looks around bewildered as the last remaining villager bursts from behind cover. Brandishing a pitchfork he thrusts it at the bandit’s midsection who just about manages to move his body back to avoid being skewered. He draws his sword but the villager is prepared and uses the pitchfork to swipe the weapon out of his opponent’s hand, sending it sliding away into the darkness. The bandit curses and draws a dagger from his belt just as the villager slams the prongs of the pitchfork into his arm. He yells in pain and grabs hold of the base of the head with his free hand and yanks it out of the villagers hand before breaking it in half with his leg. He lunges for the disarmed villager and tries to stab him but the man manages to get a grip on his arms and hold the weapons inches from his exposed chest.
“Help me Gaston” the villager cries out and he emerges from the shadows, arrow already notched on his bowstring. However he can’t get a clean shot due to the two men’s struggling and circles the pair waiting for an opening. Eventually the Bandit manages to overpower the villager and punches the dagger into his chest multiple times with a savage roar . His victory is short lived though as an arrow thumps into his back. He lurches forward and the first arrow is soon joined by two more which puts him down for good. Gaston eases the string on his bow and wanders over to the bodies of the two bandits, nudging them with his boot to make sure they are dead. As he does he hears the crunch of boots and as he looks in the direction of the sound a man emerges from the darkness, his golden blond hair blowing in the chilly breeze.
“It’s you, that wimpy prince from the bar” he accuses angrily. Charming tries to blow off the insult but he is clearly hurt and his voice breaks a little as he speaks.
“I see the ruffians I hired didn’t give you much trouble. Although I shouldn’t have expected much from their barbaric kind. I guess if you want a job done you have to do it yourself.” Charming draws his sword, waves it about fancily and levels the tip at Gaston. “Let’s be having you then.” Gaston reaches for his quiver but his hand grasps at thin air as he realises he is out of arrows. Hooking the bow back on its hook he takes the hunting dagger from his pocket and flexes the muscles on his right arm in preparation. Puffing up his chest and letting out a bellowing battle cry he charges at Charming and swings the dagger downwards with all the strength he can muster. Charming raises his sword to block it but the sheer strength of the blow is enough to bat the weapon aside. Gaston presses this advantage, swinging his dagger like a madman and despite having the much shorter weapon he’s slowly pushing Charming back further and further. By sheer luck he manages to parry one of the swipes and Gaston is left wide open. Seeing his chance, Charming thrusts his sword forwards but in his haste his aim is off and it merely tears through the side of Gaston’s shirt. The Frenchmen grins at the misfortune and traps the sword next to him with his arm and gives Charming a solid kick which knocks him back.
Charming gets to his feet, wiping the mud of his clothes and gasping for air. He takes a step back and feels the ground beneath him give way and he looks back to see their fighting has taken them to edge of a cliff face. He turns back to Gaston who is testing the weight of Charming’s sword in his grip and takes out his battle axe. The two men lock eyes and as if going off a silent cue they stride towards each other, ready to end this feud once and for all. Gaston slashes at Charming but he’s unused using a weapon of this length and weight and the blow is easily dodged by the conniving prince. Another blow is easily blocked and Charming has now closed the distance enough to bury the axe deep into his opponent’s calf. Gaston roars in agony and Charming uses the distraction to jump up and snatch the sword from his grip and, after steadying himself, stabs Gaston in the stomach.
The Frenchman doubles over and Charming pulls the sword out, looking down on his hunched over adversary. “Did you really think I’d let you get away with humiliating me like that you buffoon. How dare you address you future king in such a way.” He heaves the sword above his head ready for the final blow. “Prepare to die you scum” he shouts and brings the blade down, aiming for Gaston’s exposed neck. Suddenly Gaston’s head snaps up, grabs the hunting dagger from its holster and in one swift movement throws it right at Charming. Too close to dodge the blade sinks into Charming’s chest and his eyes widen ins surprise. The sword clanks to the floor and he paws weakly at the handle protruding from his chest. He takes several steps backwards until he is teetering on the edge of the cliff face and he takes one more look at his opponent before falling off the cliff face.
Gaston looks at the spot where Charming fell from for several minutes, partly out of awe and partly because he is too weak to move. He finally musters up the strength and tears off part of his shirt, wrapping it around to wound to stop the bleeding. “Nobody throws like Gaston” he says weakly and slowly limps off to find help.
Winner: Gaston
Expert's Opinion[]
This was a close fought battle and had many people divided but in the end the manliest man to ever grace animated films came out victorious. While every voter agreed that Prince Charming had the advantage in close range with his more numerous and further reaching melee weapon Gaston dominated the ranged game with his Blunderbuss and Hunting Bow which allowed him to pick off Charming and his men before they could get close enough to press their close range advantage. Gaston was also a much better leader than Charming and while the villagers were not as bloodthirsty or experienced in fighting as the bandits their feverish admiration of Gaston made them a more effective team.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battle vs. Shrek (by TybaltCapulet)[]
TBW.
Expert's Opinion[]
TBD.