Arena of Death - The Gods' War

[Tommy]

Tarath could feel the hate around him, good he thought all the more rage and blood shed for khorne. He felt the vicious combat even though he was far away in his cage, khorne still smiles upon his champion and soon his champion will taste blood!

[Edg3ofR3ason]

The Beast lord did not stir from his meditative-like state in the dark corner of the cell. He could tell from the sounds and smells what was going on around him. He let a large toothy grin break his normal solemn exterior at the sneaky little rat, as the door to the cell closing him in, slammed shut. The obvious conclusion to the confrontation between the over confident, blood lusting vampire and the rat assassin. Surely poison played a part in the vamps demise. The rat, he thought, was as worthy an opponent as any other within the room, despite his freakish nature and apparent OCD...either that or he has a boot fetish. His senses then picked up a vaguely familiar smell and although it was hard to place at first it occurred to him that there was only one in these vast lands that retained the odour of musty leather and rancid blue cheese; he opened his eyes and to his amazement confirmed what he already knew. Battlehammer! Why that old fart! He’s still alive, and those two retro-bate companions of his. He shook his head wondering why they had been brought here, of all places. He had been present in the Anvach arena, oh so many years, ago when this trio was in their prime and became the first and legendary champions of the arena of death. In the years to follow however, this group, living off the fame and fortune showered upon them by the Dwarf nation became better known for their drunken tavern brawls, then their arena prowess. And although no one openly spoke of the fall from grace, this once proud and formidable trio was now known as ‘the three amigos”. Drunks, everyone! Still there presence interested the Beast Lord. Were they truly taken from the gutter and brought here against their will or could this be part of a more elaborate plan of their captors. Only the gods knew for sure it seemed. His keen mind reflected back to when he was just a bull calf in school and the study of the ancient gods and mythology. One of the gods, Jak Shrap: the god of mischief and chaos, to whom he often admired, came to mind. Could this be his handy work? He would have to remember the passage which when spoken paid homage to the Great God of Chance. Patience, he thought, and focus on the now. It would appear that these hooded figures have ‘invited’ everyone here as part of the ‘entertainment’. Well. That seems reasonable given that all of the other major acts in the land are booked include Le Cirque du Chaotica. Ah yes! Those prancing ponies! Yakka shook his massive head to clear these random thoughts from his mind. Could it be that the hooded ones are pumping hallucinogens into the cellblock? This just keeps getting stranger and stranger. He closed his eyes and began to recite the homage to the god Jak; with him in his corner he may yet see his way through this.

[Jack Shrapnel]

lol....

[donimator]

Armand took in the new arrivals and the victor and masked his surprise. Returning to the rear of his cell he worked and stretched his muscles to stay limber...prepared. 'Breunor?' he thought to himself. How could he advance his plans if forced to fight such a noble warrior and friend. He couldn't. he would refuse and abandon his quest to restore his House's honour. Hopefully it would not come to that. That one would fall before they were forced to fight.

His thoughts turned to Leopold. Wishing he was being well cared for and exercised. He had no doubt of his steed's heart or ability to fight at his command, but Armand would sacrifice his own comfort to aid the horse. He had saved him many times and would do so again in this arena.

The rat won. He had faced these foul creatures in the ruins of Mousillon. They were immoral and without honour. Certainly deceit and treachery played a role in its victory. Overconfidence was likely the vampire's downfall. Armand would not fall into that same trap. Assured that his tactical brilliance would win the day. That and the Lady's Blessing.

[Jack Shrapnel]

Both of the elves went quietly when the robed ones came for them. The high elf with his head held upright, staring intently at his captors until the moment they placed the burlap sack over his head. The dark elf scanning his surroundings, taking in every last piece of information he could that may assist in his eventual escape. Vas Dutari paid the high elf little heed, for he had no doubt he could easily dispatch his foe. His mind was on the greater mission of escape.

Once inside the arena, their head coverings were removed and they could see that the moon was full in the dark sky. The high elf climbed upon his mount and surveyed his opponent coldly across the arena floor. Dreadlord Dutari was looking around the arena, always calculating, always assessing the options. His survey complete, the dark elf turned his critical eye to his foe. He despised the arrogant high elves more than anything else. Vas Dutari smiled as he pulled a potion from his belt. Time to give him a surprise.

The high elf prince thundered towards his foe, sword at the ready. He was surprised at the speed at which Dutari moved, especially with the large and clumsy weapon he was wielding. Of no matter, he thought. This would be over soon.

The slashing blade arced down with blinding speed. Dutari deftly avoided the flurry of strikes, with only one striking home. The high elf sword struck the right arm of the dark elf, sending blood slicking down to his hand and affecting the grip upon the great sword. The hooves of the mount came down as well, but the Dreadlord was far to agile to be taken down by this.

Dutari screamed aloud “Sa'an'ishar!” and drove his blade upwards towards the prince. The wound to his arm however slowed his attacks. His great sword sliced in an arc towards the Prince’s neck, however the high elf’s magical talisman shone with brilliant light, deflecting certain death. Another attack nearly decapitated the horse on the downswing.

The high elf leapt from the saddle, spinning midair to land in a crouch before his enemy. He ran headlong to attack, moving his sword with deadly precision. The blows that struck however, had lost much of their power, as the magic of the Prince’s potion ebbed. The dreadlord’s armor easily deflected the blows.

“For Khaine!” Duarti yelled, near mad with his rising bloodlust. The pain from his wound forgotten in a sea of anger. The deadly strikes however, were deflected by the high elf’s armor, and another timely shield from the magic amulet.

The prince circled his enraged opponent, stabbing with precise movements into the dark elf’s lowered guard. The druchii’s armor was too strong however, and nothing could strike home.

Vas Duarti fueled his rage ever higher, striking again and again at his hated foe, aiming to take the head from his shoulders. It was all the high elf could do to avoid the worst of it. Blood began to flow across his chest and he stumbled, catching himself before he fell.

The bold elven mount came forward to try and save his master, but the dark elf coldly sunk his blade deep within the beast’s neck, blood spraying his dark armor a slick red.

With renewed strength the high elf drove forward again, stabbing towards the kinks in his opponent’s armor, and this time finding purchase. The dark elf’s own amulet flared to life with a black curling smoke. Vas Duarti pulled the high elf prince closer to him as the smoke reached out and pulled the life essence from him.

“What is your name?” the dreadlord whispered, “As Khaine takes your soul you must tell me.”

The high elf prince continued to stare into his killer’s eyes, saying nothing.

“Tell me” the dreadlord demanded.

The high elf fell limp, a sly smile upon his face. He could at least deny the hated dark one this much.

Vas Duarti threw the body down in disgust. As the robed figures encircled him he threw his great weapon to the ground, and prepared to go with them.

“Soon” he whispered, “I’ll have your blood soon”.

As he was led from the arena, he suddenly realized yet another strange event. He had been in and fought in many such places full of crowds of cheering and jeering onlookers. However the robed crowds here were perfectly still and eerily silent.

[Jack Shrapnel]

Post battle thoughts:

The dark elf amulet may have been what stole the final wound from the high elf, but it was the loss of the high strength after the first round of combat which really sealed his fate. The fight went quite a few rounds because Matt's character (unlike Matt ) could roll dice like nobody's business, and really made his saves every time until the last round. Round one the dark elf took a wound but after that he remained pretty much untouched (1+ AS is hard to fail when your opponent is no longer S7!) but at the same time the high elf was making all his saves too... despite the dark elf's higher strength!

[shilekjalan]

Apr 14, 2011 14:54:29 GMT -5 Jack Shrapnel said:

Post battle thoughts:

The dark elf amulet may have been what stole the final wound from the high elf, but it was the loss of the high strength after the first round of combat which really sealed his fate. The fight went quite a few rounds because Matt's character (unlike Matt ) could roll dice like nobody's business, and really made his saves every time until the last round. Round one the dark elf took a wound but after that he remained pretty much untouched (1+ AS is hard to fail when your opponent is no longer S7!) but at the same time the high elf was making all his saves too... despite the dark elf's higher strength!

Greetings,

Out of character.....

Sweet! I bet that was a good fight! I could totally picture it happening, like a movie. Maybe you guys should produce the arena of death as a stop action movie??? That would be wild.

Courage and Honour

[redshirt2375]

*OOC*

Well the only reason that DE Lord build didn't win the first arena is because each time he was actually forced to make a ward save, he failed it. One successful save would have won him the fight...or so I was informed afterwards

[Jack Shrapnel]

yeah, that amulet is really nasty.... it decided things in this fight....

[Jack Shrapnel]

The robed ones returned to the prison with the dark elf bound between them, returning him to his cell.

The one returned with his ledger, walking between the cells until he reached the beastlord's cell.

"You are next creature" he stated flatly. He then turned to the cage that held the dwarf and his loyal shieldbearers, "and you will battle him".

He turned and walked out of the prison without another word. Bruenor sat brooding in his cell, looking over at the massive beastlord. His body ached, but at least his damnable head had stopped pounding. It remained to be seen whether this battle would spell his redemption, or his doom.

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sorry for the split personality Kerry, but feel free to speak for your former character if you wish as well!

[shilekjalan]

Apr 14, 2011 21:45:10 GMT -5 Jack Shrapnel said:

yeah, that amulet is really nasty.... it decided things in this fight....

Out of Character...


Greetings,

That amulet is pretty good. Obviously, it is nowhere near as good as the Pendant of Khaeleth though, which is why the Pendant of Khaeleth almost always gets used when people want to win games (almost always) instead. Also, it is a bit of a trick item. There is no deception with your opponent thankfully as he fully knows what can happen, but it is still a trick. Either you make your saves or you do not. It is still pretty sweet, considering that you can pair it up with the Armour of Darkness.


Courage and Honour

[Edg3ofR3ason]

The Beast Lord rose to his full height and approach the cell bars as the robed, hooded ones came to stop before him, so quickly that he caught the one holding the book by surprise. He glowered at this small and insignificant thing that refused to meet gaze, staring straight ahead, as he announced Yakka to be the next to enter what surely had to be an arena of battle. His gaze moved from the robed one, in the direction that his bony white finger was pointing. “Battlehammer!” the Beast Lord mouthed in total silence. The Beast Lord watched the hooded figures procession out of the cellblock and arched his massive back then let out a blood-curdling roar. The one with the book hesitated, turned his head quickly to be sure that the animal responsible for the unearthly sound was not bearing down on him and heard it speak for the first time. “Creature, you say! Yakka BorHorn is thy name, inhuman one! Remember it well, for once I am finish here I shall come for thee and mine will be the last name your empty lips will mouth as I squeeze out the very life essence for that miserable excuse of shell you inhabit!” Yakka stood tall; snorting loudly as he watched to hooded figure nod his head in recognition of the Beast Lords seemingly empty threat, turn and leave the cellblock.
Yakka refocused his attention to the trio with whom he will now either battle to death or sit down share a pot of ROOIBUS tea. He laughed to himself at the thought of the four of them being un-hooded, in a vast arena where they were forced to drink tea and play Yatzee. The loser being beheaded, of course, and feed to the hungry crowd. His life or his death being determined by the roll of dice?! What would the chances of that being the case? Notta! He was the architect of his own destiny. That had always been the way! The Battlehammer would die so that he may live. Besides what would become of his 14 wives? And of course, #15 for whom he was currently wooing. The Beast Lord looked over at the cell containing the dwarven trio and gave a respectful nod before turning his back to the dwarves and began quietly reciting the ode to the god Jak, so that he may prepare himself for the coming task which he must perform whether he wanted to or not.

[Edg3ofR3ason]

Breunor nodded to the giant of a beast. His tired swollen eyes looked over at Togar and Wulfgar sitting on the damp floor of the cell heads between their knees. “I’m sorry my friends” he thought to himself. The trio was exhausted, battered and bruised from the struggle of their capture and the long trip in a cramped metal box that brought them to this ‘house of horrors’. “Ah, if only we could get our hands on some dwarven ale, it would make things seem so much better. Well, at least it usually did…until the husband comes crashing through the door and you have to make a quick get away! Breunor smiled in spite of his circumstances. Ah my dear Sophie! He looked over at the cell where his opponent stood, obviously in preparation for the coming battle, or at least he assumed it would be a challenge to the death and not some stupid game of dice that decided their fate. He then looked over to his comrades, then back to the beast. He then made his decision, he would bargain with his captors for the lives of his friends and face the Beast Lord alone, dwarfo au beasto, one on one. He closed his eyes and began his own mental preparations, quietly and silently summoning his strength for the battle to come.

[thesanityassassin]

Yeah, I think this is my 3rd character to fall to that accursed amulet. Even when I was forcing re-rolls on the ward saves!

[Jack Shrapnel]

Wulfgar and Togar raised the runed shield aloft, carrying Lord Battlehammer into the arena. The cloaked crowd was silent and unmoving. Bruenor forced the exhaustion and despair from his bones, knowing that this fight could very well be their last. He had let down his friends and his clan with the path they had been leading. If it were to end now, he would at least try to die honourably.

The mighty beastlord strode into the ring, breathing heavily the open air, nostrils filling with the scent of blood that had been spilled. Yakka's own blood began to boil at the smell, feeling the familiar blood rage overtake him. He had to keep his senses with this one though, he reminded himself. Battlehammer's reputation preceded him, and although he had recently fallen from grace, he was no less dangerous than he always was.

The beastlord pulled forth his twin blades, imbued with the power of the shamans to increase his fighting prowess to unparalleled levels. He began to run towards his prey, eager for the hunt.

Bruenor braced himself for the inevitable impact, relying on his skill at arms to limit the incoming attacks. His reflexes were slowed however, and with a flurry of strikes, Yakka pounded upon the dwarf lord, who was barely able to remain upright. The gromril armor held though, and his shieldbearers leveraged him forward, pulling their own blades to help however they could.

Battlehammer's runed axe flared to life as he struck back himself. Despite the skill of the beastlord he was able to land decisive blows. The great beast wore an enchanted talisman however, that glowed protectively, warding off two of the strikes meant to disable one of Yakka's arm. Arcing the axe low however, Bruenor was able to hit the side of the great beast, drawing blood. Wulfgar and Togar attempted to strike at the legs of the beastlord, but he easily parried their strikes away.

At the scent of his own blood being spilled, Yakka roared in rage and frustration. He doubled his efforts, striking again and again at the dwarf lord. His shield and armor protected him though, as every hit was turned aside.

Bruenor felt long forgotten strength return to his body. He gritted his teeth in grim determination, knocking the beastlord off balance with his shield and slamming his axe repeatedly into Yakka's chest, smashing the enchanted talisman into useless shards, and carving huge gashes out of the beastlord's chest.

Yakka fell to his knees. As his eyes closed forever he fell forwards into the expanding pool of blood surrounding him.

Wulfgar and Togar raised Bruenor Battlehammer high in triumph. The crowd did not cheer or respond. It didn't matter.

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After battle thoughts:

Battlehammer is back... and Kerry, he's your guy, so you're still in the arena, despite Yakka being smoked rather hard.... no armor save vs. the dwarf (double S vs. T5 hurts!) and only a 5+ ward is pretty harsh.... Yakka was hitting ALOT and was making even that 5+ ward like a champ... but needing 4's to wound, and Bruenor still getting a 4+ AS (with one reroll) meant he went down round two of the fight.