|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 5, 2011 8:44:47 GMT -5
The silent robed ones in the arena gazed down at the two combatants: the Brettonian Lord on his noble steed and the skulking skaven assassin, two opposites in every way. Vicomte Armand Theudis finished his prayers to the Lady, and urged Leopold forward to impale Snickerslit upon the end of his lance. The assassin scurried forward moving with silent quick steps.
Increasing his speed, Leopold bore down upon Snickerslit, who dove sideways, narrowly avoiding the deadly lance from piercing his heart. The necessary roll threw off Snickerlit’s attacks, and they were unable to get through the defenses of Armand. Fresh blood showed the assassin how deadly this human could be, and he involuntarily squirted the musk of fear.
As he rolled past the rampaging horse, he struck out at Leopold, slicing across the body of the Brettonian steed, blade pumping poison into the noble creature, causing it to ram into the ground, and unseat the rider in a crash of armor. Armand rose to his feet in a flash, but the assassin was already on him, driving his blade between the chinks in the armor, finding flesh beneath. Coughing blood, Armand fell forward to the arena floor, Snickerslit on him in a flash, moving to remove his boots before the robed ones could take him. He screamed a curse as he realized that the Bretonnian was wearing his full armor which meant his boots were not there. He scrambled and fought in vain as the robed ones dropped the hood over his head.
…….
After battle thoughts – wow, this was a quick one… multiple wound weapons often do very little (especially when wielded by a character with only a couple of wounds!) but sometimes they can be devastating… especially when they’re armor piercing!
|
|
|
Post by donimator on May 9, 2011 19:17:43 GMT -5
Armand stared at the blade lodged between the plates of his armour, felt the poison course through his veins. He tried to speak, but words would not form, his chest caught in an icy grip. Forgive me, Father! (his heart cried), Forgive me, My Lady! I have fought the noble fight, yet never shall I bask in your light again. never shall the sons of Bretonnia follow my banner to bring glory to my noble House. Never... What's that tugging at my leg? Begone foul beast. Slayer of Light. You're interrupting my soliloquy!
|
|
Edg3ofR3ason
Immortal
Champion of the Anvach Arena of Death
Contrary to popular opinion, 'I'm not dead yet!'
Posts: 340
|
Post by Edg3ofR3ason on May 10, 2011 20:34:48 GMT -5
The three comrades huddled closely together in the cell block speaking in hushed tones as they planned for their next encounter with the Khorne Lord, all the while scheming on how they might escape this hell hole, when the main door to the prison opened abruptly. Togar and Wulfgar looked up toward the door to see who would be returning, each hoping to some small degree that Bruenor friend had prevailed. A moment later they looked at each other then down at Breunor who still maintained a steady gaze upon the floor in front of him. Neither wished to be the first to report the outcome; Togar, his hands fidgeting with his bootlaces and Wulfgar suddenly deciding to count the lumps of fly excrement on the low ceiling of the cell. The uncomfortable silence between the three prevailed for several minutes before Togar cleared his throat and said "Breunor...". Before he could continue Breunor raised his head and his hand looking into Togar eyes, then over the Wulfgar, who met his gaze with a solemn look. Breunor closed his eyes and nodded to his friends, "It's okay, Armand lived long and well. He would have fought well and died a warriors death. What more could a proud warrior ask for but to die in battle with his boots on!" Both of his friends acknowledged these facts with a nod. "We must avenge your friend, Breunor" Wulfgar said a quiet, matter of fact tone. Breunor smiled and Togar grinned at Wulfgar's statement before renewing their planning for the inevitable battle. This time however they each had a renewed focus, and determination. The Vail of vengeance had descended upon the trio and nothing was going to keep them from completing this new mission.
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 17, 2011 14:47:53 GMT -5
The dark elf faced off against Fargus, staring at the human with distain. This was no match for his abilities and would be over quick. Meanwhile, Fargus was in another world, where everything seemed distant and sharply focused all at once. Surestrike was in command now. Fargus smiled at the familiar bond. The combatants circled one another, Surestrike lashing out with precise strikes, unable to pierce the black armor of Vas Dutari. The dreadlord in turn struck with his great weapon, pleased that the sword struck home and blood began to flow. Fargus didn’t even flinch however, and it barely seemed to register that he had been wounded. Surestrike guided Fargus’ movements with pinpoint accuracy, and he was able to pierce the defenses of the dark elf, drawing blood himself. Vas Dutari grimaced and countered viciously, but Surestrike moved Fargus out of the way, narrowly avoiding certain death. The sword pushed Fargus forward to press the attack, but was unable once again to find the gaps in the armor now that the dreadlord was being more protective of this opening. Vas Dutari sensed his opening and struck twice, cleaving the human in two. He threw the sword to the ground in disgust as the robed ones came to claim him. ----------------------- after battle thoughts.... well Fargus really didn't have a chance on this one... the dreadlord ripped him a new one pretty quick.... ....the funny thing is I messed up and did a complete writeup of Fargus versus Terath.... ....Fargus died there too.... then I realized my mistake and rerolled the proper match.... results over even quicker.... sorry Fargus!
|
|
|
Post by LizardTau on May 17, 2011 18:48:18 GMT -5
Surestrike knew Fargus was going to die in this battle, he was too weak even with the power of surestrike the dark elf was too much for poor Fargus. But Surestrike was already planing on taking the dark elf for his own. He knew what ever power was in control of this place was weakening his physic power but he know with direct contact he could put forth the full force of his power. What he didnt count on was the strength of the dark elf's mind in his weakened state Surestrike's will might as well had been a bike running into a brick wall. He found him self tossed to the ground. He lay there until slaves were sent out to clean up the arena, one of them picked up Surestrike and stuffed him in their shirt quickly before any of the others could see. Later just out side of the arena where they dump all the bodies he pulled out the blade and attacked the guards killing them, and when the other slaves came over to congratulate him he killed them as well. Surestrike knew he must find a better wielder then this pitiful slave but he knew he must also get away from this place. What ever power was here was greater then him and for the first time since he was created he felt fear and humility, but also anger and he wanted vengeance if it took hundreds of years he would get back at the dark elf and the beings behind this area....
|
|
Edg3ofR3ason
Immortal
Champion of the Anvach Arena of Death
Contrary to popular opinion, 'I'm not dead yet!'
Posts: 340
|
Post by Edg3ofR3ason on May 17, 2011 19:52:05 GMT -5
Breunor noted it was the dark elf that was unceremoniously pitched back into the cell. "Fargus", he thought, "is finally at peace, free of that demonic weapon he had held onto for so many years". But what of swords fate? Surely it would not stand for being alone in such a place of magic. Hopefully, it had been locked up in a dungeon deeper than the one they were being held in. An uncomfortable feeling, like a cold chill, suddenly embraced Breunor. He looked over at the demon lord to see that he had stopped his usual restless pacing and was standing motionless facing the bars, with fire red eyes staring directly at the three. Breunor met the demon lords gaze unheeded and without fear. the two stood several minutes, eyes locked neither backing down. As suddenly as it began it was over. The two lords breaking eye contact at the same time, the demon returned to his relentless pacing and Bruenor turned to his friends shaking his head. "Ah. Well. It would seem that this demon is blood kin to last one we fought in an arena". "I thought that smell was familiar" Togar retorted. Breunor lay his head on the uncomfortable "cot" which had been furnished by the "hotel staff", and thought once again just how it was that these things keep happening. Sleep came less than easily, but it came none the less.
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 18, 2011 18:48:21 GMT -5
Togar and Wulfgar raised Breunor up on the runed shield, ready to face the demon. Terath thundered forward on his juggernaut, hissing with hatred. As the demon’s ether blade struck, it carved through Breunor’s shield as if it wasn’t there. The dwarf lord threw the destroyed pieces to the ground, trying to ignore the grievous wound to his arm. Battlehammer sliced at the herald with his axe, and grinned at the flow up blood he was able to produce himself! Terath covered his bleeding side with his free hand, and went low upon his mount, using the thrashing frenzied beast as cover from the swinging axe. Wulfar and Togar struck at the metal beast to no avail, sparks flying from the impervious metal hide. The juggernaut leapt forward, taking the shieldbearers down, each pinned under a massive claw. Togar’s heart fell as he saw the headless body of Breunor fall to the earth as the juggernaut claimed it’s prize. The robed ones stood silently watching while the loyal sheildbearers were torn apart. Waiting until their screams were abruptly cut off, before throwing the poisonous globes to render demon and beast unconscious. After battle thoughts: Well no armor saves and killing blow made this an uphill battle for Breunor! He had a wound left after the initial assault and he needed to kill the herald round one (and nearly did it - getting a wound in!) but the juggernaut scored the last wound - a killing blow too!
|
|
|
Post by thesanityassassin on May 18, 2011 20:37:42 GMT -5
Wow....the fact that that guy can isn't immune to KB anymore really hurts.
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 18, 2011 22:09:17 GMT -5
yep, 8th ed means he needs a rune for that now!
|
|
Edg3ofR3ason
Immortal
Champion of the Anvach Arena of Death
Contrary to popular opinion, 'I'm not dead yet!'
Posts: 340
|
Post by Edg3ofR3ason on May 19, 2011 7:14:23 GMT -5
Yah! Might have been more interesting if he had an 8th ed. build which at least would have negated KB.
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 19, 2011 7:49:22 GMT -5
Yah! Might have been more interesting if he had an 8th ed. build which at least would have negated KB. a decent ward save would have also really changed that up too... and if that demon was higher toughness strangely enough, due to the double strength rune....
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 19, 2011 8:06:15 GMT -5
The robed ones had been gone for what seemed like an eternity. The herald of Khorne had woken back in his cell, still fuming that he remained incarcerated, wounds already knitting together and healing impossibly fast.
The brightness of the torchlight accompanied a new prisoner being dragged unceremoniously into the cell block. This creature was an unconcious Saurus, covered in hundreds of scars which appeared to be the result of many clawed hands. The lizardman was tossed to the floor of an unoccupied cell and the robed leader held up his ledger.
"The Gods have decreed that the end times are near. Their champion will herald the coming light or darkness for all. You are mere wretches who have yet to realize who will rise above the filth to be chosen. "
He then turned as the Saurus began to move and pull himself upright. He made a mental note that he needed to use more gas on that one, he recovered far quicker than he should have.
"The first battle will be the champion of Khaine versus the champion of the Old Ones"
"The second battle will be the champion of Khorne versus the champion of the Horned Rat"
"Your destiny will soon be revealed."
|
|
Edg3ofR3ason
Immortal
Champion of the Anvach Arena of Death
Contrary to popular opinion, 'I'm not dead yet!'
Posts: 340
|
Post by Edg3ofR3ason on May 19, 2011 9:44:42 GMT -5
It seemed that regardless of the number of times they performed this small simple act the pleasure it derived never ceased. Watching. Waiting. Wanting. Each had the need, as if it was an addiction. Their hands trembled with want, as the waited for the moment, all the time watching their victims through the reflective waters of the caldron. The three sister's cackled with glee as each in turn sheered the threads dangling before them, in two. It was no coincidence that their actions took place at the precise moment at which Wulfgar, Togar and Lord Breunor Battlehammer exhaled their last breaths, their eyes glazing over. What the three sister's of fate did not expect however, was that the essences of the three fallen heroes, that portion of the individual which they themselves cut away ending the life of the victim they held in their grasp, did not fall into the waters of life, like normal. Instead, each in turn blinked out of existence as if plucked from the air by some unseen hand. Almost instantaneously three new strands appeared. Yet unlike those of newborn infants the threads of these lives were longer, nearly mature, as if something had added to their length. The sister's looked at each other through unseeing eyes, each knowing what had just transpired, none wishing to admit or speak of the moment. Collectively, they shivered as if the cold hand of death caressed each of their necks at once. And that voice. The one they feared most rang within their minds before they fell, to the damp mossy floor, convulsing violently. It was some time before they recovered from their master's wrath. Each time they found it harder to do so. It was not that the punishments increased in strength or duration. Even they aged and age always takes its toll. The youngest of the three always returned from the painful abyss before the others. "Come sisters, hurry", in her raspy whispering voice. "The events within the arena return anew and we mustn’t disappoint the master again". The eldest sister returned last to the trio with a slight smile of satisfaction upon her contorted face. “They’ve been marked!” she stated flatly. Her two sisters returned her smile. In silence, each turned to viewing the events of the arena, selecting the next threads of life and wagering which of them will next be cut, all the while noting to themselves to check the threads they had marked for special attention and thoughts of vengeance filling their minds. They cackled in unison as the next battle began. The sisters of fate were back at work. Balance to life had been restored and the world wept.
|
|
|
Post by calitom on May 24, 2011 6:47:49 GMT -5
"Feh." Snickerslit scoffed at the thought of fighting the demon. He had no boots! No matter, there would be many a boot waiting for him after he was done with this.
|
|
|
Post by Jack Shrapnel on May 25, 2011 13:52:07 GMT -5
Vas Dutari seethed in frustration. How many of these inferior opponents must he strike down to earn his freedom? This latest scarred lizardman appeared large and slow. The dreadlord hefted his great weapon and strode forward to finish the beast off quickly, to at least deny the silent crowd any pleasure from this fight.
Kha-cho-lat sniffed the air and looked curiously around him at the new surroundings of this arena. He seemed unconcerned by the advancing dark elf. Vas Dutari raised his weapon to end the creature’s indifference when the Saurus struck with lightning speed, drawing blood from the dreadlord, and nearly severed his head. The protective talisman however reflected the wound back upon the Old Blood, dark mist enveloping him. Kha-cho-lat’s own talisman also flared to life in concert, trying to circumvent the swirling arcane energies.
Vas Dutari sliced at the Lizardman, hitting repeatedly but unable to pierce the armor and magical wards which surrounded the creature. Kha-cho-lat cleaved the dreadlord’s armor with such force that the breastplate shattered. The dark elf amulet flared to life, but the Saurus amulet flared even brighter, stifling the black mist which sought to deflect the wounds, and allowing the lizardman’s sword to pierce Vas Dutari’s heart.
The dark elf fell silently to the arena floor, look of surprise still on his face. Kha-cho-lat turned, sword raised as robed figures entered the arena. He growled and charged, but the figures threw globes with a green mist that overtook him and plunged him into unconsciousness.
.............................................
After battle thoughts – well the trickster’s shard was what turned the tide on this one, as that amulet usually allowed Vas Dutari to get in double wounds (what he caused plus what he saved)… making those wards be rerolled certainly changed things!
|
|