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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 21, 2011 9:54:33 GMT -5
The hooded ones returned, bringing with them the dwarf lord and his shieldbearers.
Vicomte Armand Theudis smiled at the sight of his friend, who greeted him with a smile of his own... the old fire appeared to have returned somewhat!
The smile left his face when the hooded one with the ledger looked to him and stated, "You will fight the ogre next"
He then turned to the herald of Khorne and the warboss "which will leave you two to end the round"
He lifted the ledger upwards reverently "Grungni has prevailed!". The captures left the prison once again in darkness.
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Post by redshirt2375 on Apr 21, 2011 10:13:36 GMT -5
Having come to realize that the bars might actually be more Rollier than him, Da'Rolla took a break from the fight so the bars could rest since they probably needed it more than him.
Seeing the dwarf come back was almost enough to get his blood up and resume his fight against the bars, but he still felt the bars needed more of a rest.
"So da Stunty won. He must be a tough'un to have been more rollier dan dat Big Beast."
Then he heard the cheatin Hoody say who was fightin' next. A big, tusk-showing, grin spread across Da'Rolla's face when he heard he'd be fighting the Daemon. Surely there wasn't a tougher fighter here and who better for him to prove he was da Rolliest against?
The bars would have to wait. He had a bigger fight to get ready for.
*sidenote: Here's hoping for I can either take him out round 1 or that there are no Killing Blows rolled or a lot of Ward saves on my part when he hits back
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 21, 2011 19:18:16 GMT -5
Two more sets leave with only one returning. He hardly notices as he practices spinning in his cage moving his arms around. Then he hears it will be his turn to fight next.
Good, the ogre would be let loose, he didn't care who he had to fight but he would kill them as fast as possible. He would test his strength and skill in the arena and take as much fun out of it for who ever was putting it on as possible.
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Post by donimator on Apr 23, 2011 7:18:41 GMT -5
Armand rose and was ready, feeling he was already bathed in the Lady's light. An ogre. He had ruined many a belt with the notches acquired through defeating ogres in the Massif Orcal. He would not take his opponent lightly though. If there was one thing he knew of ogres is that they were too stupid to be predictable. He nodded to Breunor. He would dispatch this brute and then start to plan...
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 23, 2011 9:34:18 GMT -5
Flinzo rose from the hard packed dirt floor of the arena. He was calm and focused as his master taught him. The Bretonnian was rising from one knee, finishing the prayers to the Lady as he did so, and mounted his steed. He raised his lance in salute to his opponent. Flinzo bowed low and pulled his twin blades, the morning sun glinting off the scales of his light armor.
Armand rode forward, Leopold quickly gaining speed. The knight lowered his lance to impale the beast. Flinzo reacted by running forward as well.
"Right into the charge. Predictable and stupid." Armand thought.
What happened next surprised him however, as at the last moment the ogre leapt into the air, raising his foot and kicking the Bretonnian Lord. Armand barely had time to raise his shield and was nearly knocked from his mount. The lance broke off into the ogre's shoulder, barely slowing the creature. Armand drew his sword as he circled.
Flinzo in a blur of speed struck out with his swords, yelling a booming, sharp word as he hit. The impact rattled Armand and had him seeing stars. If it were not for the blessing of the Lady to protect him, he would have surely been undone. He could feel the warm trickle of blood, and knew he was sorely injured from this initial attack.
Armand raised his birth sword aloft and charged again. He was shocked at the skill this ogre possessed, nearly avoiding all strikes from the knight. Two found purchase however, and thick blood began to flow over the ogre's chest. Leopold struck with his hooves in vain, as Flinzo easily avoided the horse's clumsy efforts.
As the Bretonnian rode past, Flinzo spun his swords in a double sweep. The human could not avoid them all and the force knocked him to the ground. Armand rolled as he fell, losing both his shield and his helm as he went down. He spit blood from his mouth and tried to shake the senses back to him as darkness nearly took him.
The bleeding ogre rushed in a dancing, twisting arc that seemed impossible with the dire injuries this creature had sustained. As they met for one final clash, Armand whispered a prayer to the Lady to guide his strike, and drove his blade deep within Flinzo's chest, directly to the heart. Flinzo fell atop the human, nearly crushing him in death. Armand grasped onto the reins of loyal Leopold and pulled himself upright. The hooded ones now came for him. He fell unconcious as they grabbed him.
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After battle thoughts:
This was super close... both Armand and Flinzo were down to one wound at the end. If Armand didn't have the WS 10 he would have been dead meat... I rolled plenty of 3's for the ogre, and he was wounding every time he hit given the Bret's T3. Apparently I need to figure out how to roll Ward saves for my own Bret's because Armand was a champ at them when it really counted - round one when Flinzo was S8! Also because Armand was mounted, Flinzo wasn't getting his stomp attack, which would have been even worse... Eventually Armand rolled enough 5's to hit to get enough wounds in.. (Flinzo wasn't getting any armor saves so every wound counted!)
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 24, 2011 8:38:22 GMT -5
Flinzo felt the warm blood pouring out of his chest. He knew he was dieing. He had failed, and not just the fight but to take the fun out of the fight. His opponent had been good and he know who ever had watched the match had enjoyed the fight. But at least he was gone.
Out of character
I thought it would end this way at some point. I didnt think he would make it to the end with almost no saves to think of.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 24, 2011 8:59:36 GMT -5
....well hopefully there's a few surprises left to keep you reading...
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 24, 2011 9:12:48 GMT -5
The doors to the prison opened, the torchlight seeming much brighter due to the prisoners' long stay in darkness. The one with the ledger stated loudly "The Lady of the Lake has prevailed".
With that, the prisoners could see the hooded ones dragging the unconscious form of the Bret Lord into his cell. He had been bandaged well, but looked to be in a terrible state. Behind them, more hooded ones came forward, bringing with them another bound human. He was tall, blond and blue eyed, with the clothing common to the empire.
They put him in the empty cell nearest the dwarf lord. Bruenor blinked with surprise.
"Fargus Mayfield is that you???"
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since he was the only entry in the November arena that never happened - Fargus gets to break the odd numbers this round!
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 24, 2011 10:00:43 GMT -5
Out of character awesome, i was going to read anyway and i was debating on weather to re-enter him with the pegasus (since i realized that they dont have more then one wound lol) in the next area, also thinking of a dog of war (but the stuff i want was updated out of them) or a chaos dwarf.
In character As Fargus awoke surestrike was screaming in his head, the blade was else were, but not far but even so the telepathic link was weak they were doing something to keep the blade from possessing anyone who handled it. Only cause of the years that surestrike had possesed fargus kept them connected. Someone else was talking and he almost didnt hear the dwarf. He had known him before surestrike has possessed him. " Yes Bruenor, It is, whats going on?" But as he asked the question surestrike started comunicating with him about what was happening. Although surestrike liked to kill he also liked to control and this was far out of his control.
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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 25, 2011 13:06:42 GMT -5
“Faaarrguss! Farrrgus! (note the distinctively Scottish-Dwarven accent!) SUGRAF!" The dwarf shook his head to clear the webs of confusion that seemed to be predominant these past few days. Withdrawal.....yep definitely a lack of dwarven stout.....huh, I guess I should have gone in medicine?, he thought. "FARGUS!" the dwarf yelled, as hard as he could while still attempting to maintain a whisper so that others would not hear their conversation. "Are you having a season my friend? Wait that's not it.....a seizure! “Are you having a seasonal seizure?" Somehow, Breunor knew that this statement did not seem quite right, but if he was to take up the mantle of physician and hang his shingles out for others to take advantage of, then JAKIT (see disclaimer to follow) he bloody better start trying to act like one. Fargus’s eyes had rolled up so that only the blood red ‘whites of his eyes’ were visible, and he shook as if possessed by some unseen force. Bruenor and his comrades watched silently, helplessly, as there was little else they could do. As Breunor explained to his friends what he thought might be going on, Togar head dropped and he fixed his gaze on his dirt covered shoes, while Wulfgar, the less obvious of the pair, maintained eye contact with his Lord trying desperately to hold a serious expression on his face, all the while thinking “ OMG the old fart has finally lost it, the bloody idiot is serious, yah thanks for stepping up there TOG!; best you be sleeping with one eye open tonight, oh man I can’t hold it….this is just too funny ….oh no! No! I can’t! Wulfgar could not contain himself anymore! WWWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHH! He fell to his knees laughing hysterically. Togar seeing his friend finally succumbing to the thoughts and feeling which he himself was suppressing, followed Wulfgar’s lead and began rolling on the floor laughing. Breunor stared as his so-called “friends”, then promptly put the boots to both of them. The sudden outburst from Breunor was not totally unexpected by the two, for they had not travelled together all those years without learning a few things about each other. They had been called ‘laughing hyenas’ on more than one occasion. The normal response to Breunor’s disgust would have been to laugh all the more. On this day, however, the response was quite different. Togar and Wulfgar were up from the ground, each grabbing the dwarf lord by an arm forcing him backward and upward against the cell wall. They easily held Breunor off the ground despite his struggle to get free of their iron grips securing him, (after all it was there job!) and brought both of their faces close to his and spoke quietly to their lord. “Ya dolt!” Togar taking the lead. “Moron!” Wulfgar chimed in. “What the Jak Shrap jock strap are thinkin’?” “ Ya looney tooney of a gooney!” “Snap out of yer stupid faze before I plant my boots up yer backside!” The three stared silently at each other for almost a minute before all three began to laugh. They let Breunor down to his feet then gave each other the traditional dwarven embrace. Bruenor glanced over at Fargus and saw that he was still checking the backside of his head for air holes. He looked over at Armand and nodded to his friend before sitting down with his comrades the discuss the battle which they had fought and begin planning for the next inevitable event.
Despite Breunor’s appearance to his friends that he was ‘back on the shield’ as they say he couldn’t help but ponder the perplexing perception he perceived just prior to the punch-up played out in the arena. The lack of enthusiastic responses from those watching the match disturbed him greatly. It was as if some part of his unconscious memory was trying to scream out that he, in fact, should find a vague familiarity to these events unfolding around them. Could it be that this so called “audience” is in fact nothing more than a fallacy and that we are being puppet-ted to serve the will and whim of just a few immoral bastards? His attention turned sharply back to the discussion at hand, as Togar’s hand smacked his right ear. “Ya dolt! I said who’ll be first?” Breunor stared at Togar, unsure as to just what he was asking due to the ringing in his ear. “What! What’s on first?” asked Breunor. “Huh? Said Togar. Wulfgar smiled and added, “No. Who’s one first, what is one second!” The three amigos burst into laugher once again, and then set about formulating the next battle plan.
disclaimer: the terms Jakit, Jak Ship or Jak Carp are dwarven terms that are endearing terms meant to express the heart warming feelings which a dwarf is know little for outside there homestead. In other words its kind of like sticking a needle in your eye and telling everyone that everything is wonderful; no need to get medical attention. The inclusion of the word Jak in no way implicates the great god Jak Shrap as the cause of the events for which the phrase has been uttered and any resemblance to the god Jak and his activities is purely coincidental.
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 25, 2011 15:47:37 GMT -5
Da'Rolla sat upon Ground Pounda impatient and seething, his war boar restless as well, pacing back and forth. The herald of Khorne stepped forward into the arena, shaking his head from the last tendrils of poison that had rendered him unconscious so that he could be taken from the cell without killing his captors in the process. The orc stormed forward, racing to the demon as he screamed his war-cry. Terath bade his juggernaut advance to meet the greenskin.
Da'Rolla swallowed his potion just before commencing his charge, feeling his skin harden to iron. He would easily take this demon, and then all of the robed ones, and then he would kill everyone in the cells and everyone in the stands... his fury reached it's apex as he hit the herald with all his might.
Da'Rolla swung his sword in a blur, but the demon's armor deflected the blows. Terath struck with deadly precision, his hatred guiding the strikes home, however the potion protected the orc too well, and kept him safe from harm. The clumsy boar could not hope to hit the herald, and juggernaut, although fierce, could not penetrate the defences of Da'Rolla when he was under the effects of the powerful potion.
Da'Rolla stabbed again at the demon, finding an opening in the steel plating to sink his sword into flesh. Terath appeared to barely notice this, and before the orc could draw forth his blade, the herald had already struck, causing deep wounds into the warboss, blood sprayed across the frenzied mounts, driving them to even greater fury, although neither could take down the other.
Da'rolla grabbed Terath by the neck, and slammed his sword into him again and again. The herald laughed as these blows were deflected harmlessly by his demonic armor. Terath continued to laugh as Da'Rolla tried in vain to find the weak spot in the armor he had found before, striking over and over again. He realized too late why the demon was laughing. The juggernaut had crushed Ground Pounda beneath his steel claws and now had his jaws ready to snap closed upon the orc's neck. Da'Rolla felt the jaws snap closed, and his last conscious thought was the impact of the floor of the arena as his decapitated head hit the dirt.
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After battle thoughts - the juggernaut got ya Da'rolla - Round four... killing blow at the one attack that hit! - Terath, although hitting like a champ (even with the minus one he still needed only a four) just couldn't wound round one, got a couple in after that, but even though he basically left the orc with only a 6+ ward - couldn't wound to save his life! (Matt, were you touching my dice again???)
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Post by Jack Shrapnel on Apr 28, 2011 12:59:58 GMT -5
The procession of hooded ones came back into the prison. It had been days since the first round of battles, apparently to give the wounded some time to recover.
The lead captor spoke in a voice dripping with distaste as he addressed the prisoners.
"Round two has commenced. The first battle will be the champion of the Horned Rat versus the Champion of the Lady of the Lake."
He proceeded down the row of prisoners, careful to not allow his sweeping robes to be near the grasp of any of the captives.
"This will be followed by the Champion of Khaine versus the Champion of Sigmar". Fargus could hear the voice of surestrike in his head, giving him instructions as soon as his opponent was announced.
"The final battle will take place between the Champion of Gungni and the Champion of Khorne"
With that, the robed ones left the prisoners in darkness.
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Post by LizardTau on Apr 28, 2011 21:49:46 GMT -5
Fargus sat in the dark as surestrike told him the plans for the battle. Surestrike went over and over the defences of the enemie and how we would win and continue to go on and how he would take over this arena and what he would do with it. Fargus was afraid, he wasnt completly possesed by surestrike so he was more aware of how powerfull his enemies were.
He had to hope surestrike would take him through this as he had in the years past. He just hoped he would leave this place with his head.
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Post by calitom on Apr 29, 2011 2:10:38 GMT -5
Snickerslit sat silent in his cell. Shrugging a bit when his opponent was announced. It became rather obvious he'd have to kill them all to get any of their boots, and that's exactly what he'll do.
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Post by donimator on Apr 30, 2011 5:36:27 GMT -5
Armand awoke and rolled over painfully, squinting through the gloom to see who still remained. "It didn't matter," he thought, The Lady would see him through each one in turn. He rose and stretched out his limbs, vigour surprisingly returning in spite of the nature of his wounds. He couldn't see the rat in the back corner of it's cage but unconsciously had the desire to hide his feet. He would be ready when the time came.
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