The Winter Arena

**mpdscott** · January 5th, 2009 00:42

I never would have expected Brave brave Sir Robin

to not run away

let alone defeat someone

maybe I'm just too much of a Monty Python fan to accept it easily

But good work Brave Sir Robin

and excellent write up Arky

**gingerninja** · January 5th, 2009 10:49

Yay!!!

My fight is next. Come on you ORCS!!!!

ninja out

**tuxedo clank** · January 5th, 2009 20:51

his teeth are so yellow, I can't believe its not butter.

**avatar of khaine** · January 7th, 2009 19:17

i finally decided to bother posting this... i mean, i didn't want to instanly undermine the arena's result

When the attendants entered the arena to dispose of the body, they were amazed to see the eagles and falcons seize hold of the corpse gently but firmly in their talons, and bear it away into the sky.

The many birds deposited the body reverentially on the mountaintop, and moved back, forming a circle around it. Slowly, softly at first, the birds began to cry out a lament to the fallen elf. as they sang a hazy bird-like outline appeared in the distance, flying towards the peak. The song sang of hunting, nesting, the joy of flight, and what it was to be a bird.

The outline hurtled ever closer, hazy inside but clearly defined. As the song reached the peak, it struck, flowing into the small pendant around the elf's neck and vanishing. A pheonix inscribed on the pendant flared, then the corpse crumbled into ash.

**Arklite** · January 14th, 2009 20:39

Arena of death Match 8 – Nurkzeg Nutcruncher vs. Cors el Revenir

“Good match eh?” Barry leaned on the arena wall looking down on the arena and he had to admit, this was one sweet spot. Trevor was mad for taking this job but one couldn’t complain about the perks. The cleaners bellow were making quick work of the Orc blood and lance splinters, the corpse having been cast off the edge and the boar tricked away. “they boys plan to cook it for dinner, poor beast.” Trevor was on his break for this match, the rota between the two teams proving highly efficient at keeping the blood off that fine Dwarven floor. Barry clapped as the Bretonnian left the arena, the gaudy band of minstrels vanishing into the crowd as quickly as they had came. Barry adjusted the straps on his buckler and quickly checked his sword. Volunteering as a guard had been a pretty good idea. He was just a skirmisher of course, but some snazzy armour and a bit of polish made him look proper for the event. Trevor was standing off to one side, that blasted mop resting comfortably in the crook of his arm like always. The man was tall though not particularly big, short red hair sprouting in a brutally trimmed mop was his only distinguishing feature, suggesting mixed blood of some form though Barry couldn’t hazard a guess. Heavy steel cap boots sparked off the ground as the cleaner kicked the wall absently. “next match has one of those dead un’s and another orc, lots of nasty ones late today.” Barry had to agree, it seemed that a lot of the late comers were nasty affairs. What only made it more confusing was how they had got into the city. “fought against those undead last year. Nasty buggers, Beorg and his men took quite a beating to boot.” Chewing his lip Barry considered the match. “tell you what Trev, I bet you a pint that the deadite wins this one. Fair?” the cleaner furrowed his brow in thought, the wall momentarily saved from its metal shod assault. “fair.”

The general has risen to speak to the crowd again. His commentary holding the crowd in sway as if the whole thing was a Jaeger book. The magic he was casting to amplify his voice didn’t quite reach the guard perimeter but Trevor didn’t mind. The view more than compensated what with the cleaner hub next to the arena doors being so cramped. The crowd was happy and so Trevor was happy. At least that’s what he thought he felt. Things had been confusing since he turned up 2 years ago. But mode was a solid bloke he was. Patched Trevor up after whatever happened too, healing magic closing up all those scars and stuff. The Dwarves had been good blokes too, helping Trev with his boots after the caps had come off, the little rune the engineer gave him was pretty too, perhaps he should buy them a pint later. He was sure mode wouldn’t mind.

the general had finished his introduction it seemed, the clanking doors lowering down. Randalf and Yin were doing an excellent job with the timing Trev had to admit as the two doors landed simultaneously. It seemed however that there wasn’t going to be much time to take a look at the fighters though. Hoofs pounded like thunder as both competitors launched themselves from the depths of the arena walls. The Orc mounted on a boar even larger than the last was bellowing like a War mammoth as he came. Crude armour plates hammered into the boars flesh in a mockery of barding glinted in the sun, dried blood staining the beasts fur dark red in stark contrast to the rider’s own bright green skin. The orc was no less terrifying; a brutal maw of broken and missing teeth roaring at the world, armoured plates were hammerered into the orc’s skin in an identical manner to that of the boar, the dark blackish blood still seeping from some of the newer additions. A massive axe spun in circles around the greenskin’s head as he bellowed his challenge.

The orc’s opponent was harder to make out. His mount, looking almost dead for all rights was charging at a blistering pace that would surely kill the poor creature at any moment. To make it all the worse heavy barding hung from its shoulders and its rider was accoutred in full plate armour. Poor horse. A heavy long sword was the deadling’s weapon of choice. A ghostly trail of mist following its path as the unearthly knight swung the blade in delicate arcs. Grinning skulls and laughing faces decorated the armour plates, rusted chainmail clearly visable bellow.

The first clash was a brutal, the orc’s boar charging head first into the sickly horse trying to disembowel his counterpart. The riders however seemed oblivious as they began to launch attacks eachother over the head’s of their mounts. Something however seemed off; the Orc’s swings looked laboured and slow, even for someone wearing such heavy wounds already. It took Trevor a few moments to realise magic was at work when a palpable wave of greasy air lashed out from the arena centre turning breathing into a difficult dusty affair. The blinding speed of the match had started with had disintegrated as quickly as it appeared however as the two fighters continued to exchange blows. Dispite whatever magic was at work the orc in was having little trouble, the undead warrior’s weapon was far too long for such a close quarter engagement and it was telling. The long blade was constantly being batted away by the orc’s more nimble axe. The struggling mounts slowly began to force the combat into a turn, the riders clearly uncaring so intent on victory. Blows batted back and forth like lightening as both fighters attempted to gain the upperhand, the orc however was the first to strike, a clumsy blow slipping over the wight’s guard and crashing down onto the knights helm, sending it spiralling lazily from the deadling’s shoulders.

What came next Trevor couldn’t quite believe; the knight helm seemed to take his head with it, a decapitation! But surely such a light blow couldn’t have scored such a hit so soon? The crowd seemed to share Trevor’s confusion over such a quick end to the battle. “its not over” Trevor turned to find Barry watching the decapitated knight’s body with a curious intensity for the buckler man. “I’ve seen those things take much bigger hits than that.” Trevor was sceptical to say the least but sure enough, the knight was still in his saddle, holding his sword. The Orc had spotted the same thing and was studying the corpse carefully and with some suspicion, if such a beast could indeed do such a thing.

It happened quicker than Trev could follow, the knight was somehow moving again, the longsword sweeping up and around in a lightening thrust burying the blade deep into the orc’s guts. The noise was deafening, lashing out in renewed frenzy the orc began to rain blows on his headless opponent, his crude axe hammering deep rents into the deadite’s armour as it tried to remove its blade. The tussle revolved around as both mounts struggled to give their riders the optimum position, ingrained instinct against supernatural intelligence deep rents appearing in each beasts armour as they pressed for an advantage. The wight’s blade remained trapped in the orcs chest, whatever blow intended having failed to down the thuggish greenskin and only serving to give the orc an advantage.

“damn thing won’t go down” Barry had risen to stand beside Trevor as the battle continued. The wight still tugged at his weapon feebly making no attempts to parry the orc’s assault, the armour peeling away as the orc tirelessly pounded on the armour. Its axe as much a bludgeoning tool as anything else. “neither of them will go down” Trevor observed “one’s too stupid and the other is already there” Brarry snapped his head round to look at his companion a look of surprise and confusion written across his face. “what?”

The fight was winding down now, the wight’s arm was still clamped to his weapon but his struggles to remove his weapon had stopped completely, the wights horse similarly had stopped moving, the boar still pushing and tusking against it regardless. “so is it over?” the orc was still battering his foe remaining ignorant to the blade lodged in its stomach a strange look of glee spread across its broken features. “This, might take a while…”

Winner [ Nurkzeg Nutcruncher ]

Arena of death Match 8 – Nurkzeg Nutcruncher vs. Cors el Revenir

Round 1

Ironback boar impact hits – 1 – wounds – Armour failed – ward passed

Stupidity passed

Fear passed

Cors – 3 attacks – 3 hits – 1 killing blow – ward failed – D2+n result = 1 (nurkzeg has 1 wound left)

Skeletal steed – hits – fails to wound

Nurkzeg – 4 attacks (reduced to WS1) – 2 hits – 2 wounds – 1 armour passed – ward failed

Skeletal steed – hits – fails to wound

Boar – miss

Round 2

cors – 2 hits – no wounds

skeletal steed – miss

nurkzeg – 4 attacks – 1 hit – wounds – armour failed – ward failed

boar – miss

round 3

cors – 2 hits – no wounds

skeletal steed – miss

nurkzeg – 4 attacks – 3 hit – 2 wounds – armour failed – ward failed

I have to first say sorry for the long time it has taken to get this match up (comparatively) I’ve been working pretty much nonstop since the last match and this has been the first real opportunity for me to sit down and get writing. In turn however… I’m not too happy with this one. I liked the idea, and felt it important to elaborate on my story a little (more in that regards to come) but I think I hit some writers block in this one. Next match when it comes should be a lot better.

Anyways, the match. This was pure unluckiness for Cors. The first round of combat was so close to making this match significantly shorter but once again my dice unleashed their killing blow hate and rolled low on the D2+n result. from there it was downhill as the orc’s higher weaponskill and more attacks slowly battered down the wight.

now... is it me or are wight kings cursed in our arenas here?