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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Oct 31, 2013 11:42:35 GMT -5
Challenges now can be made for Round Two
We have left:
The Executioner
Sir Chillin (who already said he was craving some tzeentch ingredients for his beer!)
Dreadlord Corras
Kaladar
Only two rounds remain to have our final champion!
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Post by stonecutter on Oct 31, 2013 14:38:16 GMT -5
As Sir Chillin rode through the ruins, the scent of mortal flesh from the northern wastes grew stronger. Coming upon an intersection, he waited and look at the road that split in two directions. Somewhat confusingly, similar smells came from both routes although one seemed tainted with dust while the other had the distinctive tang of greenskin to it. Following the latter, Sir Chillin soon crossed the corpse of a weedy gobbo and dismounted to examine the scene more closely. A few, barely visible scrapes and some sticky substance on rocks likely indicated some type of arachnid mount for the now deceased gobbo while another set of clear tracks of a steed even larger than his own were clearly outlined even on the cobblestone, where scorch marks highlighted the metal shod hooves. With a lash of his reins, he pushed his mount quickly. The hunt had begun and he eagerly awaited what he was sure would be a greater challenge than the feeble rat he had destroyed earlier. Listening carefully, the sound of his foe's mount grew louder and louder. Upon entering what must have previously been a grassy park, Sir Chillin saw a massive chaos warrior astride an equally large mount signalling a challenge to him. Lowering his visor, Sir Chillin acknowledged the challenge with his sword and spurred his mount as he charged toward the now onrushing knight of chaos. Sir Chillin challenges The Executioner (which should help make determining the other semi a little easier  ) |
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Oct 31, 2013 15:15:12 GMT -5
Round two pairings:
Sir Chillin vs. the Executioner
Dreadlord Corras vs. Kaladar
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Post by canadianguy on Oct 31, 2013 15:33:08 GMT -5
Seeing the elf made f-y-do see red. The black heart of methuzila how dare he! F-ydo also relealized that ever hit would be coming back against him but let the thought disappear. Letting his primal intincts take over. He charged the elf determined to shred the elf for his pillaging. The elf was fast his mount making it difficult. It o bury his obsidian claws deep enough to kill. Repeatidly he falled to drive hem home. Seeing one desperat option he surged at he elf attempting to bowl him over the cliff edge but as he made contact the elf slide under his arm burying his sword in his back his own momentum taking him off the cliff. Seeing the water he embraced it retuning to he pool from whoch he was spawned hoping to rise again and seek vengence.
(So was i not hitting? Wounding? Or getting through t he ward?. I was thinking of trying a similar build at somepoint. I am curious did either of our spcial racial abilities ever come into play?)
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Oct 31, 2013 16:01:57 GMT -5
You were hitting and wounding, his ward saved him all but once, and you always saved the bounce back wounds with your wards... basically wards were working, armor was not... it went five rounds which is crazy when you think about around 5 attacks each at high strength and high weapon skill each round... he was faster, so the last round he got a wound in before you could reciprocate... initiative is very important in these arenas because normally it comes down to who can score the last wound!
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Post by canadianguy on Oct 31, 2013 16:36:24 GMT -5
That is funny. I figured it would be a go big or go home battle done in 2 rond kind of thing.
Thinking i like the obsidian blade with lizzies.. The black amulet is an intiguing item but nsure if i likeit at its cost. Dark elf characters are a bit nutty as you can get armour save 1+ through mundane, asf, reroll vs most things. You really see how powerful the ots is for its cost in these kinds of things.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Nov 1, 2013 9:37:32 GMT -5
The two steeds thundered across the ruined park at one another, gaining speed as their hooves echoed off the crumbling statuary. The impact of the two combatants was deafening as they collided, but on this first pass neither were able to injure each other. Sir Chillin noticed that there was some form of protective magic around the warrior that even his own counter-magic could not pierce. The vampire was confident the armor would pose no difficulties, but how to penetrate this ward? They turned and rode towards one another again, the Executioner swinging his great axe in a deadly arc. The vampire’s strikes merely scratched the warrior’s armor, while the Executioner’s axe found its mark and knocked Sir Chillin from the saddle. As the vampire rolled to his feet, the Executioner cursed and spat, the creature was still completely unharmed. The Executioner spurred his mount forward determined to cleave the undead creature’s head from it’s shoulders. Sir Chillin waited until the warrior was nearly about to run him down and he jumped into the path of the charge, leaping to grasp the warrior’s armor tightly and drive him from his mount and to the ground. The wind knocked out of the Executioner’s lungs, but he still had the force of will to roll with the fall and throw the creature off of him. Sir Chillin’s gaze was feral despite his outward calm. He bared his fangs as the Executioner rose to his feet. The Executioner howled in fury, and ran at the vampire, bringing his deadly axe in a downward swing meant to cut the creature in half. Sir Chillin avoided the lethal attack by mere inches by side-stepping at the last possible moment, bringing him inside the reach of the warrior, and driving his blade under the breastplate of the armor and into the Executioner’s lungs. The Executioner slid to the ground silently, his battle cry lost as his lungs filled with blood. Sir Chillin ripped the helmet from his helpless opponent and grasped him by the throat pulling him close to meet his gaze. “You are but merely another ingredient to me,” the vampire hissed, “there is nothing you can do to change your fate”. --------------------- After battle thoughts: Well I had to look up the effects of rerolls on rerolls, so I guess I had to learn something this battle..lol… This was another slugfest that went four rounds, despite the fact that each of these characters only had two wounds! Mounts did nothing as usual, but really with WS7 & WS8, both with a 1+ plus ward, there was no way a horse was going to decide anything! Probably the single biggest advantage Chillin had was that he was getting a better armor save by virtue of the nightshroud dropping the Executioner’s strength to a manageable level. Sir Chillin had the advantage of strength, ASF and beguile which were enough to sneak in the two wounds needed, while his 1+ rerollable kept him pretty safe from the S5 return attacks. Other Trickster’s Shard was the thing that decided it though, because without those forced rerolls a 3+ ward rerolling 1’s is just too difficult to get through… luckily for Sir Chillin 2’s happen if you force enough rolls  |
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Post by stonecutter on Nov 1, 2013 11:05:43 GMT -5
With his final words to the rapidly fading chaos champion, Sir Chillin worked quickly to drain the blood into the keg and mixed in more warpstone powder. Again he recited the incantation and rotated slowly to each of the four directions. As the spell concluded, he consumed another small cup and a strange sensation, long forgotten, began to come over him - a feeling of remorse and obligation to his fallen foe. Taking the talisman and shield as his own, he built a cairn of rocks under which he placed his opponent and his steed. With a final salute, he re-mounted and returned to the split in the trail. Taking up the second scent, he continued on his quest. With THE THIRST held at bay, his mind was clearer than it had been in decades and he knew that a cure was closer than ever.
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Post by stonecutter on Nov 1, 2013 11:06:24 GMT -5
PS - all hail the mighty OTS, best 15 points ever!!
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Post by LizardTau on Nov 1, 2013 11:24:17 GMT -5
Kaladar rode thought the ruins. was there no more heroes in this place. Was he never going to be free of this curse. The undead thing was strong but was unable to kill him. His steed was chewing on one of the bones that the undead had left.
He turned a corner and saw and elf. A dark elf. they speed and power was legend. This warrior may be able to free him from this life of torment. He yelled a challenge and spurred his steed on and it dropped the bone and let out a roar.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Nov 4, 2013 13:11:56 GMT -5
Dreadlord Corras had his wounded ribs tightly bandaged, and was able to move without wincing in pain. He figured this would count as progress, and if he had some time to rest he would be as good as new before long. He had finally made it through the outskirts of the ruins and into the city proper where he hoped he could find some place secure to rest. Rounding a corner near the centre of the city, he saw an armored warrior riding the biggest horse he had ever seen. His eyes darted around for an escape but found none. The hulking chaos warrior yelled the strangest warcry he had ever heard, seemingly embracing death. “oh well”, Corras sighed, “I guess it’s only fair to give him what he wants!”
Kaladar thundered towards the dark elf, raising his sword high in challenge. The dark elf moved quickly, hitting him with a strength that rivalled the tomb king before him. Although these strikes easily surpassed Kaladar’s armor, the eye of Tzeentch opened again, denying both Kaladar and Corras the warrior’s death. In frustration Kaladar struck the dark elf from atop his steed, knocking the dreadlord from his mount with the force of the blow. Corras heard his wounded ribs crack once more, and blood began to seep from the bandage again.
Wincing, Dreadlord Corras got to his feet, as the warrior dismounted. Corras didn’t know why the warrior didn’t just ride him down with the advantage or remaining mounted. He had little time to think on this though, as Kaladar moved to attack again. Corras was able to fend off the attacks, and although it appeared one of his own strikes hit home, a strange eye opened up in the warrior’s chest to ward this from actually causing damage. As Kaladar’s sword hammered the dark elf backwards, a strange dark mist tried to envelop him. The eye opened again and shone brightly and the dark mist retreated.
The Dreadlord went on the attack again, striking repeatedly, his great sword ringing off the warrior’s armor.
“Impossible” Corras thought, shaking his head, “I cannot hurt this creature”.
As if to punctuate these thoughts, Kaladar slipped his sword through the dark elf’s defenses and struck a wound across his leg, drawing more blood and nearly causing Corras to fall.
The return attacks failed to penetrate the wards of the eye of Tzeentch, which seemed to only infuriate the warrior more. He lowered his weapon and began yelling at Corras, who stepped back from this new strangeness.
“Why can’t you kill me?” Kaladar roared, “Why can’t anyone kill me!”
“Damn you to hell, I’m trying”, Corras yelled back, striking again and again at Kaladar, but ineffective against the warding eye. The Dreadlord’s amulet enveloped him in the dark mist, making the warrior’s attacks miss their mark, and tendrils of mist reached for him, but the blazing eye kept them retreating.
Dreadlord Corras felt himself begin to tire, and the city kept swirling around him as his body tried to black out from blood loss and fatigue. He pushed back against this using the pain he was feeling to snap him awake. He was finally able to knock the warrior’s sword to the side enough to drive his great sword in the middle of the eye of Tzeentch. With a screeching sound, the warrior wrenched to the side, pulling the weapon free, and knocking both of them back wards. Blood began to seep from the wound through the chest.
“So” Corras smiled, “You can bleed after all”
Kaladar appeared as surprised as his opponent at the injury. He smiled and laughed as he agreed, and then came at the dreadlord with renewed vigor.
“Me and my big mouth” sighed Corras and he continued to fend off the attacks that would surely end his life.
Kaladar felt an unfamiliar feeling, that of fatigue. He and the dark elf continued to circle one another and strike, but the strength was leaving both of them. His opponent seemed to catch himself occasionally to keep from falling over, and looked to be near death, but kept coming. He could feel his own power ebbing as blood washed down his body from the wound to his chest. It was here; he thought to himself, the glorious death he wished for may be finally upon him.
Dreadlord Corras struck again with the last of his strength, again directly into the eye of Tzeentch and this time deep into the chest of the warrior. Kaladar dropped his sword to the ground and fell to his knees, his smiling face within inches of the dark elf.
“Thank you”, he whispered, coughing blood “you’ve saved us all” and fell lifeless to the ground.
“This has been the weirdest day ever” Corras thought to himself as he lost consciousness and fell as well.
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After battle thoughts:
FOURTEEN ROUNDS... the absolute longest fight in an arena to date! It just wouldn't end. Corras had 2 wounds on him within the first four rounds and I thought this was totally over, he just couldn't wound him, even with getting in the extra no armor save hits from the amulet. That 3+ ward was totally crazy... Kaladar was not wounded at all until round ELEVEN... For ten rounds, Corras just stubbornly refused to fail an armor or ward save. The black amulet didn't even cause ONE wound, saved every time by that 3+ ward. Finally in the fourteenth round Corras got that second wound in to stop Kaladar. This was a true Rocky Balboa fight, where at the end it just seemed fitting that even in victory, this fight just took all the guts he had left to pull it out. So no Frank, you don't get to just walk by while he's passed out and eat him... that would be a little anti-climatic don't you think?
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Nov 4, 2013 13:17:51 GMT -5
...and to put this in perspective a bit, there were FIFTY wounds caused altogether by both combatants and the amulet... and only four of those fifty were not saved by either armor or ward...
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Post by canadianguy on Nov 4, 2013 15:21:21 GMT -5
Shows there are still crazy armour ward combos out there
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Post by stonecutter on Nov 4, 2013 16:44:57 GMT -5
Sir Chillin heard the distant sounds of battle ring out and gave his mount a quick tap with the reins to increase his pace. Closing rapidly, he soon came to the site of the battle. A chaos warrior nearly identical to the one that he had just defeated was locked in a duel with a druchii. On and on the battle went and yet neither warrior could gain supremacy despite many heavy blows and numerous nicks and cuts. The telltale glow of magic flared repeatedly as seemingly lethal strikes were diverted. Finally, the dark elf managed to land a telling blow at almost the same instant that the chaos champion ran him through. Staggering back, the elf collapsed in exhaustion from the effort and blood loss. Moving quickly, Sir Chillin harvested the northman's lifesblood and repeated his spell a third time. Yet again, he drew a small cup from his keg and downed it in a single, swift gulp. As his body began to wreath with magic, he screamed in joy not felt in decades - he could sense pain other than from THE THIRST. Suddenly feeling a need not to drink alone, he forced a cup of the elixir down the throat of the helpless druchii. The fiery brew had an immediate impact as the elf's wounds closed and strength returned to his limbs. Sir Chillin smiled at his new drinking companion and mounted his steed while allowing the elf time to fully recover his senses. As THE THIRST left him, Sir Chillin could see it drift over and take hold of the druchii as the elf grabbed his temple's in pain and then vomited copiously on the ground.
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Post by Khalai on Nov 4, 2013 20:24:41 GMT -5
For a brief moment Corras pondered his fate in the worlds beyond, only to have that dream ripped away. The world began spinning. He could not keep his composure and vomited. Slowly, clarity returned to his vision. The duel with the mad chaos warrior seemed a lifetime ago. Who would ask you to kill them, and then not remove the magical wards that kept him alive so long into the combat? Corras, supposed it did not matter, he was alive at least. And his strength had returned. How could this be?
Corras sat up and looked around. He could see the corpse of his vanquished foe, yet something was wrong. He did not remember causing that much damage. Looking around he caught sight of the man he believed was responsible for his recovery. This "man" was sitting on a rock next to the fallen tzeentchian (tzeentchite?) drinking from a keg. Corras wasn't sure why, but he could tell that it was filled with blood. The realization of what had just transpired hit him like like a hammer hits a cantaloupe (sorry, couldn't resist). Sense of dread washed over him as the vampire set down the keg. He rose to his feet hefting his weapon. It seemed sluggish in his hand now, as he watched the thing move towards him. The rage built up inside him for what this thing had done to him. With a nod, Corras charged.
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