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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 4, 2011 15:10:31 GMT -5
The darkness of the pit was disrupted by the swinging lantern carried by the cloaked porter. It seemed as though everyone here bore the same rough cloaks that hid their features and cast faces in darkness. The porter’s head was bowed as he walked respectfully behind his master, and obviously aware of the distance from the occupants of the cages. They were as different a group of prisoners that could be imagined. In the first cage stood a human, defiant and glaring, appearing regal even without his armor and mount. He demanded answers from the master, who ignored him and continued to walk through the pit.
Across from one another, two elves in separate cages glared at one another, their hatred for one another barely contained. Massive reinforced cages held the beast they had captured in the forest, as well as the dim-witted ogre. As always, the warrior of Khorne paced his cell, heavily breathing while he glared at his captors. He did this every time they entered, and as far as they knew, he never stopped this enraged state.
Near the back of the pit, in near absolute blackness, the vampire and skaven were held. As these creatures had the ability to see in the dark like no other, the master and porter both ensured their hoods were low upon their faces, as shadow was no protection. The master surveyed both casually, the contempt evident in his raspy voice.
“You two have been chosen to enter the arena first. There will be no mercy between you, as there will be none from us as well. You will fight to the death. Only one of you shall move onward.”
Snickerslit did not relish the idea of facing the fanged creature nearest him, however he despised being caged. “Then you let me go, yes yes?”
The master turned towards the ratman and coldly explained, “No, you will continue to fight until you either are dead or the last one left. Then the Gods may see fit to have you released.” With that he turned and walked out of the prison, ignoring the questions of the other prisoners. As the porter left, the door closed behind him, plunging the pit back into darkness.
Raphael Byron bared his fangs as his red eyes looked at the skaven crouched in the corner of his cell. “I don’t relish the taste of you rat… but I am hungry enough to bear it”.
Snickerslit shuddered at the thought.
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Round One:
Snickerslit vs. Raphael - Winner Snickerslit The unknown High Elf vs. Vas Dutari - Winner Vas Dutari Yakka Borhorn vs. Bruenor Battlehammer - Winner Bruenor Vicomte Armand Theudis vs. Flinzo - winner Armand Terath the Bloodied vs. Da'Rolla and Ground Pounda - Winner Terath
Round Two:
Vicomte Armand Theudis vs. Snickerslit - Winner Snickerslit Vas Dutari vs. Fargus- Winner Vas Dutari Terath the bloodied vs. Bueunor Battlehammer- Winner Terath
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Post by BewareOfTom on Apr 4, 2011 16:05:54 GMT -5
"Finally" Raphael thought, even though skaven were one of he races he most despised, trying to survive without blood for the past months have been growing difficult. Trying to strike fear into the pitiful vermin he made some low hissing noises, and fangs barring started taunting him in his native tongue.....
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Post by calitom on Apr 4, 2011 21:41:19 GMT -5
Having his answer, the Skaven sat still in his crouching position, unmoving and silent. Just a little longer... But a thought struck him and he turned his hood slightly to glance at the Vampire's boots, eyeballing them for a moment then looking to his own boots, then back to the floor falling still again.
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Post by thesanityassassin on Apr 4, 2011 23:04:58 GMT -5
The Unnamed High Elf watched as the two hooded figures called out to the rat man and the vampire. The death of either would serve his purpose. Though he remembered none of his past before arriving here, he did know that his sole purpose was to slaughter the enemies of Ulthuan. Only through the blood of the lesser races could his species persist. With a last glare towards the hated Druchii he spat into the arena before retreating into the darkest recesses of his holding cell, there to sit and brood, waiting until his mount was brought to him and he could once again slay the enemies of his people.
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Edg3ofR3ason
Immortal
Champion of the Anvach Arena of Death
Contrary to popular opinion, 'I'm not dead yet!'
Posts: 340
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Post by Edg3ofR3ason on Apr 5, 2011 11:24:12 GMT -5
Yakka stayed in his comfortable crouching position in the darkest corner of space into which he had been placed, when the two hooded figures past by. He had attempted earlier to obtain a clear picture of his surrounding, but for some reason his vision remained blurred and his massive muscular structure slow to respond to his commands. Drugged and captured like a young-ling, he reasoned. Interesting. Despite his current lack of visual acuity, his sense of smell was not affected. He had been able to identify each of the other 'guests' in this place of evil and death. It was strange however that he was unable to determine from what race the two hooded figures might be from. Deep magic at work here. He sensed it in the walls and bars within which he was being held. He knew that he must wait and bid his time if he was to get free of this place. He quietly returned his focus to his mediation. Encapsulating his aggressive nature and channeling it into focused rage had been one of the secrets to his constant successes in battle. A slow wide grin formed on his massive face in anticipation of the release of his glorious rage. His keen senses then alerted him that there was, despite the situation and outward appearances, no evidence of fear within the room. He snorted out loud......sneaky little rat.
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Post by Tommy on Apr 5, 2011 13:21:38 GMT -5
The Herald of Khorne beat against the cage furiously, although he knew he couldn't break it his Juggernaut was going into a frenzy beating against the cage.. good Tarath thought hes ready to fight.. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 5, 2011 16:03:26 GMT -5
When Flinzo awoke he thought he was in some sort of jail. It was very dark and he shook the dizzyness from his mind. He has asked every one of the men with hoods why he was being kept and what he had done. But none has said much of a word expect "Quite Orge". It had been years since before he was with his master that anyone had called him that. Why must everyone new say he is a Orge cause of his size. He took stock of the other and came to realize they were collecting fighter. This scared and excited Finzo. He would be able to use all the training his master had given him, but he would also be fighting for his life. He would have to sit and calm him self, sitting crosslegged he centered him self like his master taught him. No emotion, emotion was the enemy. After that he stood and started praticing, slowly moving his hand around in the form of his sword style. slowly at first, then faster and faster untill his hand we a blur to all who would look apon him. He was glad for the darkness cause all the other fighters once seeing him would think he was just a stupid Ogre, he hoped that and his masters teachings would be enough to get him out of this with his skin.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 11, 2011 9:01:56 GMT -5
Snickerlit was shoved into the ring unceremoniously; the bag that covered his head being removed with a sharp tug. He rubbed his wrists where the shackles had tightly bound him through the dark, twisting route to the arena. Even with his keen sense of direction underground, it was near impossible to remember the path that was taken. At least the sky above was dim with evening twilight. Made sense given who he was facing. He quickly donned his equipment and looked across at his foe.
Raphael Byron gazed downward at the sniveling rat who was supposed to offer some form of challenge to him. He had looked at the possibility of escape as soon as he was given his equipment and hellsteed. At first it looked easy enough, a quick flight through the opening at the top of the arena into the night sky. Then he saw the rows of crossbow men along the top edge, and the silhouette of the ballistae that were placed on the curved rooftop. Could be a short flight indeed, and definitely not looking favorable, especially in his weakened state from lack of good blood.
“Time to at least fix that” Raphael stated aloud, and drew his gleaming blade. His steed rose into the air, aloft on black wings, throwing up dust from the dirt floor.
Snickerslit narrowed his eyes and crouched low with his own blade drawn. The poison starting to flow slick across the razor edge.
With teeth bared, Raphael dove forward on his hellsteed, sword coming down in a blur. The potion he had imbibed at the start of the battle making the world appear to crawl slowly before him. Even the speed of the assassin was no match for him. Snickerslit dove and rolled, taken aback by how quick this undead creature was. He had barely enough time to roll underneath the hooves of the mount, which were luckily unable to strike him. The vampire’s blade however, drew a glancing cut down his arm. If the assassin wasn’t as fast as he was, it would have taken his entire arm off!
Raphael, blood lust ignited as soon as he saw the bright blood begin to flow. He wildly struck again at the skaven, who rolled the opposite way, again under the thundering hooves of the hellsteed.
Snickerslit caught the tail of the flying steed with one paw, using the swinging tail to propel himself onto the back of the mount, and skittered up onto the vampire himself.
Raphael grabbed the assassin by the scruff with his free hand, looking to toss the rat downwards and trample him beneath. The weeping blade of the skaven sunk into his neck, pumping poison into the undead creature. The giant blade fell from the vampire’s grasp as he felt his arm go rigid, and the Hell Steed plummeted to the ground as it could no longer be animated as it’s master perished.
Snickerslit rolled as the hellsteed hit the ground, triumphant smile on his face. He scrambled to pull the boots of his victim, but before he could claim his prize, the hooded ones were holding him down and putting the accursed shackles on his wrists and the bag upon his head.
“Noooooo” he screamed, “Mine! Mine!”….
He continued to thrash and scream as he was led back underground.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 11, 2011 9:05:23 GMT -5
Post fight thoughts:
It was the weeping blade that spelled the end for the vampire... with only two wounds all Snickerslit had to do was get one wound in, and roll average to take the vamp out... which is what he did... However the vamp was going to kill the rat pretty dead if it went any length of time... luckily for mr. rat he got that wound through early!
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 12, 2011 11:29:16 GMT -5
Armand Theudis stood in his cell as the door opened. He was curious as to see who the victor of this battle was, but was surprised when neither the skaven nor the vampire was brought in. A column of the robed figures had new prisoners brought in to the cells. The first was a massive tattooed orc who obviously had to be knocked unconcious to be brought under control. The next ones in line made Armand start with surprise.
"Breunor?" Armand asked, "is that you?"
The shackled dwarf looked up to greet the bret lord with tired eyes. His loyal shieldbearers behind him, heads bowed in shame.
"Yes my friend, I'm afraid it is"
Lord Battlehammer was brought to the cell opposite the unconcious orc and walked inside with his shieldbearers with him. The robed figures left, ignoring the prisoners and giving a wise berth to the warrior of Khorne, who continued to pace like a caged animal.
A short while later, snickerslit was brought back to his cell by robed attendants, who did not pull the burlap sack from his head until he was well in the prison. He continued to mutter angrily about his boots and who he was going to make pay for this. One of the robed figures held aloft a ledger.
"The Horned Rat has advanced his champion into the second round. The Gods have chosen the next to fight in their honor." A sneer could be seen despite the dark and the covering hood. He pointed to the dark elf and then in turn to the high elf. "The Gods demand you will fight next."
With that, the robed ones left the prison, taking their light and plunging the cells back into darkness.
A gutteral groan could be heard from the orc's cell as he woke... then moments later the loud metallic slam of something heavy hitting the bars began in earnest, along with a raging howl...
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 12, 2011 13:16:17 GMT -5
"out of character"
awesome bringing back the winner of the first arena. Before i read the orc part i thought you were going to have my Cha cho lot. also but the orc is cool also. Great story line i love the mystery of it.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 12, 2011 13:26:26 GMT -5
The orc is actually Randy's character, that wasn't in the intro as I was originally looking at how to work it with the odd numbers, and made the mistake of thinking someone would just get a buy through to round two... but then thought... what's the fun in that? So the winner of arena one gets to be an NPC to even up the numbers.... (that and I realized that even with the buy we'd be at odd numbers for round two - math is fun!)
Feel free to add your character's thoughts all along the way... this is MUCH easier to develop when characters are actively part of the story!!!!
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Post by shilekjalan on Apr 12, 2011 18:46:17 GMT -5
Shadow and Menace.....
The mighty Dreadlord, Vas Dutari, awoke from his drug enhanced dreams. He knew not how he had come to be in this location, of shadow and of menace. He saw numerous other beings around him, saw, felt, smelt and heard.
For he had just trekked across 240 kilometers and rode upon his loyal steed for another 640 kilometers. His body felt so sore and stiff, but he cared not from whence these feelings had came. He knew his duty and he knew that the will of the gods would not be denied. He would slay all of the monsters, beasts and people in this prison or he would see the realm of blood and souls for himself.
Vas Dutari let out a deep breath. The time had come. He placed each of his palms on a segment of his armour and pushed. There, now it could start. As the blood slowly dripped down across his armour, he thought, yes now it can start.
Blood and Souls for Khaine! Sa'an'ishar!!!!!!
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Post by redshirt2375 on Apr 13, 2011 6:17:15 GMT -5
...the cool wind blowing against his skin was a startling contrast to the warm blood that was splashing across him with each swing of his mighty choppa. There seemed to be no end to his foes. For each one he slew, 2 more stepped up to take their place. The tide of enemies seemed to stretch on forever, but like the rocky shore, Da'Rolla held it at bay from atop Ground Pounda. He let out a great howl of joy as he swung his choppa again and again; each stroke bringing death and proving to all that Da'Rolla was truely "Da Rolliest"...
With a groan, Da'Rolla slowly opened up his eyes. It was dark and smelled funny. There were too many smells that he'd didn't think he'd ever smelled before all together like this. The was Humee and Dead T'ing, Stunty and Rat, two kinds of Pointy Ears, and a strange smell that reminded him of the fiery mountains.
He also smelled the Hooded ones. The ones who'd ambushed him and then cheated by using "Da Glowy Stuffs" to make him go to sleep. He'd managed to take a few down before they could stop him, but when they all cheated at once it'd been too much.
Picking himself up, Da'Rolla took a look around for the first time and, with a shock, realized that the unthinkable had happened. He was in a cage. The cheating Hooded ones had put him in a cage. With a howl of rage Da'Rolla threw himself against the bars. They didn't budge. With yet another, louder howl, he charged the bars again, and again.
"Lemme out you stinkin' cheatin' gits! No bodiez puts Da'Rolla in a cage!"
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 13, 2011 9:37:59 GMT -5
as he tirelessly worked on his daily routine of practicing his sword style. He did not like how the cage was so small, he could not do the jumps and twists that were part of his dance of death, but he spun him self around in place. Doing his routine would not matter if he fought in a couple days since his muscles are well worked but the routine kept him from thinking about the situation he was in.
He saw two taken out and only one come back. This would be to the death. It scared him, he wanted to slink into the corner of his cage and hide. But he knew that if he didn't fight they would just kill him anyway. his only chance was to kill the others he was put up against. But the old Flinzo couldn't do this. He had to find a primal side a feral side, one that would do anything to win. So he sunk into him self and let his teachings from his master come to the fore ground. His mind raced not wanting to be shoved back in place of instinct, thoughts came to his head of fighting humans and other goodly races. He tried to shake those thoughts from his mind. He would have to become the Ogre they all say he is. Ruthless and killing at least till he won or died trying it was all he could do.
He sat in his cage meditating when they brought him food. It was horrible food but he ate it, he needed the nourishment if there was any in this foul stuff. He thought back to his masters cooking. The best food he had ever eaten. He had always wondered how a hermit and a sword master became such a good cook. These thoughts of his master brought the inner fight once again. His master had always taught him to fight for good but there was no good in this place, there was only fighting for someone or somethings enjoyment. Then it dawned on him, he would finish his opponents as fast as he could stealing the enjoyment from who ever was doing this.
Yes he would become the Ogre that killed without remorse to steal the evil enjoyment from who did this and he would with all his skill and strength try to leave this place, and possible even get vengeance for the lives he would have to take but that gave him the resolve to do what ever it took to win.
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