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Benevolent Dictator
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Discussion Starter #82
Part 3: Balance [Toshugokami Shrine, 2 nights before Winter Solstice]

Shogun Ittazen dismounted his steed. The ride from the Imperial Palace, where he had been staying, to the Toshugokami was a long one. It did not help that he was beginning to age. He had claimed the seat of the Shogunate at a young age, younger than most, and even now was only just into his thirties. But he had not won the Shogunate by pacing his youth, or appreciating the carefree days of a young man. Ittzen had accomplished more in these three decades than most men would have hoped to accomplish in three lifetimes. War-wounds, painfully stiff from the ride and the cool winter air, were more proof of that than any crest or title. And now, after committing every waking moment of his life to his goals, the fool Teo-Hahn sought to undo it all in a single evening.

A wizened monk answered the gates by lamplight,
"Welcome, weary pilgrim. Our brothers are not entertaining audiences at this hour, but you are welcome to board here until the morning."
Ittazen reached into his obi and pulled out his dagger, the crest of the Minamoyo Shogunate emblazoned on the scabbard,
"I am no pilgrim. I am here for Teo-Hahn"
He placed the weapon back in his belt, away from prying eyes. He had ridden here alone. As he saw two inquisitive Sotei step from the shadows of the temple and move across the lawn towards the gate, he wondered if perhaps he should not have brought men of his own.
"Is there trouble, Brother Kai?" the first Sotei asked from behind the white silk veil covering his features.
"None at all," the old monk replied, "save that we must wake master Teo-Hahn from his sleeping. The Shogun would like to see him."

Moments later, Ittazen was standing in the entryway to the shrine. None were allowed into the centralmost chamber, save for Teo-Hahn and his handpicked followers.
Teo-Hahn yawned wide, and scratched an itch on his belly irreverently, "Could this have waited until morning, Ittazen?"
Ittazen snorted, "I am your Shogun - or have all your monks forgotten their manners? Even the old gatekeeper would not bow."
Teo-Hahn yawned again, "Manners. Yes. I will be sure to remind all of monks and my retainers that they are expected to bow before the Shogun," he responded, mouth still yawning wide, "now, good night my Lord Shogun. Forgive me if the gatekeeper does not bow on the way out, I will give them the message in the morning." Teo-Hahn offered a half bow, and began backing towards the door to the chamber.

"Call off the games, Monk," Ittazen shouted.
A shadow fell across Teo-Hahn's face as he straightened, "I am not playing games, Ittazen - I was returning to my bed."
"The arena," Ittazen said more calmly, "call it off."
Teo-Hahn's responded to the tone by relaxing himself, a wide and benevolent smile making dimples in the fat on his cheeks, "No. I'm afraid I can't?"
"Can't? You live in this empire - I am your Shogun, and you answer to me. And I say call them off."
Teo's face darkened again, "You forget Shogun - the Uzatto Monks showed your Bushii the Kei. You may hold this empire hostage, but we are equals. I do not answer to you - I answer to the Emperor. And he called for this tournament, so who am I to call them off? And why?"

Ittazen realized that his anger was getting him nowhere. He composed himself as he walked towards the ring of cushions on the floor, "sit," he said. Teo hesitated to submit to an order from the Shogun, but he folded his legs and rested on the cushion as Ittazen began,
"It is clear to me that the world beyond our shores hangs in a dangerous balance. Of the champions you brought here, the two who remain are one man, and one savage follower of the Dark Brothers. If that is the state of affairs in the world at large, then Nippon stands to gain nothing by journeying beyond our borders."
Teo-Hahn sighed, "You said yourself - there is one mortal man. I find that he shows great promise - do you not have faith in him? I find that this display only proves that the might and knowledge of Nippon is needed in the wider world, to tip the balance."
"And which way would it fall, Monk? Call off the fight. Kill the one called Avendar and show the people that beyond our shores this is only barbarism and darkness."
"Kill the man? And allow the Savage of Chaos to claim victory?" Teo raised an eyebrow.
"No - the arena will be inconclusive, there will be no winner."
"You know as well as I, Shogun Ittazen, that there is always a clear winner. Is not the bid for Shogun itself, a great arena? It does not matter if you claim victory on the battlefield, if all of the other claimants lay murdered in their beds."
Ittazen ignored the implied insult, "Then kill the Chaos Worshipper, crown the Human and send him home, and I will take my chances in debates with the Emperor. But I will not have Nippon sail into the wide world only to aid the Dark Brothers and their Daemons."
Teo grinned, "So this is not mere politics then. You do have the good of the people in mind. But let me ask - what of Cathay? They worship the same deity openly, that the one called Tzerah scribes upon the walls of his cell."
It was Ittazen's turn to darken, "are you suggesting that we also consort with devils? I would have the Hatamoto drag you into the court screaming, and hang your head from the gates of the palace."

"Hardly. The Sotei of my own brotherhood would have killed me long before your Hatamoto even arrived. But are you suggesting that the Emperor and the People do not fear the Four Brothers? Perhaps, if they do not, then it is only right that we carry such courage into the wider world. It makes no difference who wins this arena, Ittazen. You should have seen that by now. Look at the crowd. Look at how they study the fighters. To the Bushii, each is a new challenge in battle. To the merchant, each is representative of a whole nation of riches and trade. From the peasant, to the Emperor, they all view them with the curiosity of a child. You could no more hold back their desires to travel the world, than you could stop the moon from rising.
I would say, Shogun, that for your sake I hope the Abomination wins, and that the people are too terrified to venture beyond our shores for another thousand years. But we cannot hide on this tiny island forever, and I hope that when our sails disappear over the horizon, that they do so knowing the score, and the danger ahead of them, and that they are unafraid. Is that not the hope of all Bushii?"

Teo-Hahn bowed until his bald forehead was pressed against the floor, and then stood. He called for one of the monks to prepare tea for the Shogun, and then returned to his chambers to sleep. Ittazen stayed on the cushion, deep in thought about what the monk had said. If the Way of the Bushii was destined to carry them beyond their island realm, what sleeping giants would they find beyond the horizon? And would Ittazen and his warriors be strong enough to defeat them?
 

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Sir Proofreader
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And so... The stage is set for the final battle?

Creepy bird man or honourable human, I don't think I really mind who wins I just hope it's a good fight :)
But maybe a little bit of me does want Tzerah to win, filthy closet heretic that I am...
 

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Benevolent Dictator
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Discussion Starter #85
Final Round: Tzerah the Voiceless vs. Avendar the Armorer [intro]

Indeed, the intermission piece was written for this round. However, this being the final, I want to pay a little more attention to the fighters. The usual introduction and lead up to the opening attacks therefore ran a bit long. Rather than edit it like a good writer, I'm going to break it off into this post. If you really don't care about storylines or motivations, skip this post to go right to the fighting.
In his cell, Avendar's gauntleted hand brushed over the top of his polished helm. It was an unconscious act - a muscle memory of the days when he had hair, and flesh, and a life. The days before he had been entrapped in this all enclosing suit of armor. It was enough to drive a lesser man insane, but Avendar had conviction, and the fires of vengeance burned bright in his heart. His quest had led him across Brettonia, and beyond, in search of the foul wizard who had damned him so. Months became years, years became decades, and yet Avendar hadn't seemed to age. Would his hair have been grey now? Would his face have the deep lines of a wise man? If not for this cruel fate, would he be sitting in a country manor, bouncing children or even grandchildren on his knee? Somewhere in those years, he had lost sight of his goal, and had simply turned to wandering - the only thing left to a man who had lost everything. Throgga's words had struck him though. The Orc's breath had stunk, his flesh was unwashed, blood unclean, and his mind was that of a lowly savage - but he had spoke of a 'good death'. It had never occurred to Avendar that his journey must one day come to an end. Even if he found the wizard, would killing him be enough to even the score? Avendar had been sure that he was still mortal - that one day the passage of time would leave him behind as dust. But it had never occurred to him that perhaps it would not, or that he would die before that appointed hour.

"You should fight with a clear head," a voice called from outside the doorway to the cell. The monk was here with his weapons, to prepare him for battle and escort him to the arena, "what are thinking about?"

Avendar looked up, eyeless behind the black slits of his helm, "Monk - you are a man of spirits - is there such a thing as a good death?"

The monk offered a hollow smile, "In Nippon, the warriors strive every day for a good death. Victory, their family, their yesterdays and tomorrows, don't matter to them. It is only good to die in battle, doing your duty for your lord. There is no greater honor for a Bushii than to die gloriously for his master."

Avendar took his sword and belted it around his waist, and stepped towards the door. In the wide, stone-floored hall outside the cell, the Hatamoto guard was waiting with his horse. The shorter man bowed curtly, and said something his in strange language. The monk chuckled,
"He wishes you a soldier's luck in your fight. He says that you gave him your word that you would duel with him when you are living among the Nipponese."
Avendar offered his hand to the stoic guard. Confused, the man stuck out his own hand, Avendar took it and clapped him on the shoulder. Then the knight took the reigns to his horse, climbed into the saddle, and rode out into the bright sunlight of the arena, and the roaring crowds.
--

Tzerah had been moved, after his last fight. It was improper to have the two finalists lodged facing one another. The monks had learned to give the strange Warrior a wide berth. Tzerah had not slept for two days, spending the entire time scribing the walls with the twisting prayer-spells of Tzeentch. Now the runes whispered to him, filling the entire second wing of the arena with ominous hissing, like storm-waves breaking on a distant shore.

A monk darted into the room and laid out his weapons and armor on the floor, before bowing and backing away in a rush, terrified of the unearthly happenings within the chamber. Tzerah looked over his assembled wargear. He lifted the heavy cuirass, and the runes whispered to him a new thought. He laid the armor aside. He knew this other contestant. Personally. Tzerah looked over his own flesh - pale, so thin that you could see icy blue veins running beneath it, and dusted with frost. For all the world, he looked like a frozen corpse - such was the blessing of Tzeentch to the armies of the warlord Borael. Tzerah had borne Borael's personal banner for centuries, and now, his Warlord had released him to wander the world in his name. It was fortunate then that Tzerah had found an old foe so early in his journeys. The Brettonian had escaped the will of Borael's sorcerer, the last survivor of a glorious battle between the warhost and the combined armies of the Empire and Brettonia. It was time to pen the closing chapters of that tale, and kill the only man to escape the frozen clutches of the Army of Winter.
--

Shogun Ittazen watched the ring with intense, undivided, attention. The Emperor was a stark contrast, lounging carelessly on his cushions and enjoying a sweetened rice ball. Ittazen scowled at Teo-Hahn, standing proudly at the arena's center, ready to introduce the fighters himself.

"Fortunate spectators and honored guests, I present to you the two finest fighters that the world beyond has to offer. For many days and nights we have held this contest, threshing away the weak, the dishonorable, and the worthless. Now, only two warriors remain, each to speak for their nations, and to stake their claim as the greatest among all the outside world.
Avendar the Armorer, Knight of Brettonia. From a land mirroring our own, where Knights serve their lords with courage and honor, Avendar has journeyed to our shores to speak on behalf of his entire kingdom. A wealth of trade abounds there, entire castles piled with gold earned in crusades across the many lands of the outside world. They stand an early kingdom of man, a gleaming light surrounded by the dark brutality of the Old World. And among them, Avendar shines brightest, and was chosen to fight before you all, here in Nippon."

The crowd cheered loudly. They fell silent as Teo gestured to the other warrior in the ring. "From the dark and savage wastelands of North, we bring you Tzerah, the Voiceless, servant of the Dark Brother, Tzeentch. A legacy of proud and capable warriors and raiders, savage conquerors and powerful warlords has been written across the north by the blades of thousands. That Tzerah has been chosen from among the countless hordes should be considered an honor. Indeed, Tzerah was once human, and there are many more changed even than he. The power of the Dark Brothers is strong, and it courses throughout the world beyond our borders. Tzerah's very face is a cautionary tale of the horrors that lay beyond our shores."

Teo-Hahn stepped back, clearing the center of the ring for the impending fight. Beside his knee, Avendar's escort looked up at his charge and whispered loud enough for only Avendar to hear, "Knight, I will answer your question now," Avendar looked down at him, "there is no 'good death'. There is only the end - cold and black, and lifeless. There is no honor for you in that, dying here in a game." The monk hurried off, clearing the arena.
 

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ISIS Secret Agent Squishy
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ooooh.....the adrenaline is kicking in again...another arena is about to be decided.
 

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same here...... I'm really pulling for Avendar but the way I'm reading it seems that Tzerah is going to win.......... Let's get on with the fight captain!!!!!! :)
 

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Benevolent Dictator
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Discussion Starter #88
Final Round: Tzerah the Voiceless vs. Avendar the Armorer [fight]

Tzerah guided his mount towards Avendar, the tip of his sword scratching ominously along the cobbled floor.
"To hyou rehm-hem-er me?" the Chaos Warrior spoke. His mouth forever ruined by his cruel beak, Tzerah spoke from the throat, like a choking man - an otherworldly mix of clacks and hisses as he taunted his rival, "To hyou rehm-hem-er flesh?" fingers covered in barbed gloves scratched across Tzerah's bare chest, "blut?" gems of red blood welled up in the lines of scratches, tumbling over his musculature.

"I do," Avendar replied from the depths of his helmet, "and you were there. I knew your wretched face from the moment I saw you in the cell across from me. I only hoped that fate would see you across from me here. You're going to die in this pit, an entire world away from your horrible gods."

Tzerah made an awful sound as he laughed. His blade rose and fell, easily parried by Avendar's, "Faaate - yhesh. It wash fate tat rought ush here. We are nott so far frahm Tzerah's god after all."

Avendar swung his blade out towards Tzerah's bare chest. The warrior leaned in the saddle and flicked his sword up just in time. The two weapons sparked, and Avendar's sword only traced a narrow line over Tzerah's heart. "I can feeel," Tzerah taunted as he spurred his horse out and away from Avendar. The Chaos Warrior made a wide circuit around the inside of the arena, and charged towards the knight. Avendar put the spurs to his own horse and answered the charge with one of his own. Hoofbeats echoed off the arena walls, a thundering sound as the two rushed headlong at one another. Their blades flashed, and the two passed in an instant.

Avendar looked for damage - a deep dent on his breastplate, but nothing serious. He had cut through Tzerah's shoulder guard, tearing the pauldron completely off and leaving a bloody gash below. Tzerah's broken voice screamed in rage, and he spurred his unholy mount back across the arena towards the knight.

You want to joust? Avendar thought, fine, we'll joust. Once again he guided his horse across the center of the space. The two riders passed again, steel ringing against steel, and both of them pulled on the reigns just short of the arena wall. Tzerah had just barely parried Avendar's blow, and neither had landed a blow against the other. Avendar's mount snorted, and cut a tight circle, ready to make another charge.

Two more passes ended just as indecisively. Tzerah forced to parry, and then Avendar doing the same. Avendar's horse was better trained for this kind of sport. All the rage and fury of Tzerah's steed carried it on a collision path, but it's stride was as frenzied as it's mind, and Tzerah had difficulty landing blows from the bouncing saddle. If this fight was going to end, one of them would have to find a way forward. Glaring at each other from across the short arena, the two urged their mounts forward for another pass.

Just before the two could meet, Tzerah stood in the stirrups and held his sword high with both hands. His bare torso presented an easy and tempting target for the charging knight, but Tzerah was faster. His blade came crashing down with all the force of his entire body and the charging daemonic steed. Avendar hastily raised his sword to parry the blow, but the sheer impact of the hit flattened the blade to his chest and left him sprawled over the back of the saddle. Tzerah quickly turned his horse, pulling up short so that he could take advantage of the opening. Slipping from the saddle, Avendar grabbed for the reigns, his horse whinnying and rearing up in protest. Tzerah's next attack aimed for the exposed throat of the beast. With a scream, Avendar's horse toppled backward, blood gushing from it's chest and kneck. Avendar found himself on the ground, the full weight of the horse pinning him to the cobbles, while Tzerah's massive steed stood up and lashed out at him with it's hooves. Spiked, iron-shod hooves crashed down on Avendar and sparked off the cobbles around him. Pinned, the knight could hardly evade the attacks, the blows raining down on him crushed one side of his helmet and caved in various parts of his armor.

A savage roar sounded from the depths of the arena. From the gates where Avendar had entered, the Hatamoto guard burst out into the ring like a lightning bolt. Tzerah's head lashed around and fixed on the man, who was charging across the ring with both swords drawn. The crowd gasped - cries of interference and foul play filled the air, but also cheers for the Nipponsei warrior. The Emperor started from his cushion, and Ittazen leaped up to gaze out over the railing.

Tzerah pointed his horse at the man, raising his sword and preparing to ride down the intruder. The Hatamoto lunged forward, his short wakizashi plunging into the horse's chest as he rolled aside, dodging the wicked hooves. His katana flashed out, driving into the beast's guts and dragging the length of the body, exiting at - and severing - one of the horse's back legs. In a gory display of blood and entrails, Tzerah's horse toppled to the ground like an avalanche, sending the warrior tumbling towards the arena wall.

The Hatamoto rolled to his feet and ran towards Avendar, tugging hard on the knight to free him. Avendar shouted in pain, his legs were pinned down. The man changed tactics, instead hauling on the horse, trying desperately to lift it off of the fallen knight. Tzerah got to his feet, flexing his unarmored torso. His neck and shoulders popped, and he wiped the blood from his face. He turned to watch the interruption. When it became clear what the man was trying to do, Tzerah walked purposefully towards the pair.

Avendar had slid himself most of the way out from beneath horse when he saw Tzerah loom over the Hatamoto. The Chaos Warrior's blade plunged down and burst through the man's torso. The crowd was in an uproar. The horse dropped back onto Avendar, and he redoubled his effort to slide out from under it's lifeless bulk. Tzerah dropped the man from his sword and kicked him aside as if he were a rag doll. He place a heavy booted foot on the flank of the horse, crushing it down on Avendar. The knight barely contained an agonized wail. Once more, Tzerah raised his blade above his head, like an executioner.

The Hatamoto dragged himself to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth and wound. With his final gasp of life, he threw himself on Tzerah's back, trying with all his fading strength to drag the Warrior down and buy a few moments more for Avendar. The knight finally struggled free, and when Tzerah had grabbed the smaller man and thrown him across the arena, he turned to find Avendar standing in front of him, sword ready.

Tzerah's head tipped back as his unearthly laugh echoed through the arena. He seemed barely able to contain himself at the sight of the battered knight in front of him. Then his head snapped back to fix on Avendar. Spreading his arms wide, Tzerah let his sword clatter to the ground, offering the flesh of his torso - unarmored and unarmed - to Avendar's attack.

Avendar poured all of his desperation, pain, and rage, into one last attack. He lunged towards Tzerah on his tattered legs, and brought his sword up to strike. The arena seemed as silent as a tomb.

The two crashed together like a tidal wave. In a blur, Tzerah shunted aside Avendar's failing attack and caught the knight as his momentum gave out. Twisting, he guided the man swiftly to the ground, a huge hand stretched over the dented visor of Avendar's helm. He slammed the man into the ground and held him there. Tzerah hissed as the knight struggled beneath his grasp. Then the gleam in Avendar's armor faded, and the valiant Brettonian knight struggled no more.

As Tzerah stood, the crowd seemed to go into a frenzy. The doors around the arena burst open and a double ring of guards entered. They surrounded the arena walls, one row facing Tzerah, the others facing outward, keeping the crowds at bay. The enraged spectators hurled rice balls and scraps down into the arena at the victorious Warrior. Tzerah walked over to where he had dropped his sword, and replaced it in its scabbard. Finally, he cast his gaze about the crowd, his beady, avian eyes seeming to look straight into the souls of each person who dared meet his stare. The rain of insults and projectiles tapered, and stopped, and the crowd drew back for fear of him.
 

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too bad the one good guy didn't win..... what were the builds on these two? Also, what happens now that the tournament is over?
 

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Benevolent Dictator
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Discussion Starter #90
At 8 rounds, this was one of the longest fights I had to roll. It was pretty stacked against Avendar from the beginning though, as Tzerah was looking at Toughness5 and 3W, and a 3+ wardsave that rerolled 1's. It would have taken Avendar 652 attacks to do 3 wounds to Tzerah, statistically. For Tzerah, it would only take 40 attacks for Tzerah to cut him down.
Avendar's death was not in vain however. I think that it would certainly be fair to ban the Third of Eye of Tzeentch when used in conjunction with anything better than a 4+ wardsave, and I'll be making not of that in the Arena Rules thread.

For my part, I enjoyed writing this arena. Thank you guys for entering your builds and for being patient with the bursts of activity and stretches of inactivity that you were faced with. I did - however - promise that the arena would conclude within a month of the first fight, and here we are, 30 days later. So I did keep my end of the bargain :p

Hopefully the ending was worth the wait. I'm going to take a little break from community events, but in April I'll see about starting up the site campaign for any of you that are interested in that. I plan for it to be very similar to an arena, and I'll be looking for 6-10 participants for that.

Now if Kuffy will just finish up the Votewars!

The Maned Wolf - Avendar the Armorer (Bret)
Lord
questing vow
barded warhorse
Insignia of the Quest
Gromril Great Helm
Birth sword of carcassonne
Shield
Potion of speed
total: 246 pts

4A, hit 4+, wound 4+, 1+, 5++/3++, rerolls saves, enemy rerolls saves
horse: 1A, hit 5+, wound 6+

GreenPhasian – Tzerah the Voiceless (WoC)
Equipment:
Exalted
Demonic stead
Talisman of Preservation
Enchanted shield
Mark of Tzeentch
Third Eye of Tzeentch
Total cost: 240 pts

4A, hits 3+, wound 3+, 1+/3++, rerolls 1’s to ward
2A, hits 4+, wound 4+

both characters equal Ini, 1-3 Avendar strikes first, 4-6 Tzerah strikes first

R1 (avendar uses Potion of Speed)
Avendar
Hits: 3,6,1,5
Wounds: 3,6
Save: 6
Reroll: 2
Ward: 3

Tzerah
Hits: 1,2,3,1
Wound: 5
Save: 6

Steed
Hits: 6
Wounds: 1

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 6,4
Wounds: 3,5
Save: 1,1
Reroll: 5,6

R2, 5
Tzerah
Hits: 2,4,5,3
Wounds: 3,2,1
Save: 4

Avendar
Hits: 5,1,5,4
Wounds: 5,4,4
Saves: 3,5,4
Reroll: 6,4,5

Steed
Hits: 1

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 4,2
Wounds: 1

R3, 1
Avendar
Hits: 5,2,2,1
Wounds: 3

Tzera
Hits: 2,4,3,5
Wounds: 3,5,1
Saves: 1,4
Reroll: 4

Steed
Hits: 1

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 5,4
Wound: 5,6
Save: 1,2
Reroll: 4,2
Ward: 1 – Avendard is wounded

R4, 6
Tzerah
Hits: 2,5,4,3
Wounds: 6,4,5
Saves: 6,6,2
Reroll: 4

Avendar
Hits: 3,4,1,2
Wounds: 1

Steed
Hits: 2

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 5,5
Wounds: 1,3
Saves: 1
Reroll: 4

R5, 5
Tzerah
Hits: 1,6,2,6
Wounds: 1,1

Avendar
Hits: 6,1,5,5
Wounds: 5,1,4
Saves: 2,4
Reroll: 4
Ward: 5

Steed
Hits: 3

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 1,6
Wound: 5
Save: 1
Reroll: 1
Ward: 3 – Avendard is reduced to 1W, gains 3+ ward (Insignia of the Quest)

R6, 6
Tzerah
Hits: 5,6,5,1
Wounds: 1,1,4
Saves: 3

Avendar
Hits: 4,2,4,4
Wounds: 5,1,5
Saves: 6,1
Reroll: 2
Wards: 4,1
Reroll: 1 – Tzerah is wounded

Steed
Hits: 5
Wounds: 1

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 1,1

R7, 6
Tzerah
Hits: 5,6,3,2
Wounds: 5,4,2
Saves: 1,6
Reroll: 4

Avendar
Hits: 6,4,4,2
Wounds: 5,5,4
Saves: 5,4,6
Reroll: 5,4,1
Ward: 6

Steed
Hits: 1

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 1,1

R8, 4
Tzerah
Hits: 3,2,2,4
Wounds: 1,4
Saves: 5

Avendar
Hits: 5,1,3,2
Wounds: 6
Saves: 4

Steed
Hits: 4
Wounds: 3

Daemonic Mount
Hits: 4,6
Wounds: 4,4
Saves: 2,6
Reroll: 2
Ward: 2 – Avendar is slain
 

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Thanks for the Arena! I wasn't able to enter a guy (found out about it too late) but it was a very fun read!
 

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ISIS Secret Agent Squishy
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Congrats Tzerah and GreenPhaisan.
At least Kogan died to the champion, and was possibly the best chance to defeat him.
 

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NOOOOO!!! I really became attached to Avendar, and that three plus with ones re rolled, and an extra wound, man that makes it rough, and I am working with a poorer statline too sheesh, the worst is that every last wound I suffered was from his damn horse. It is ok, I will make a diorama of avendar and the samurai actually killing bird face, and then the dice gods will be forced to recognize me!
 

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Sir Proofreader
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Wait, did I read that right? The Daemonic steed did all the wounding? Sounds like I should just enter a cheap character riding some nasty beast and let it do all the work. :p

Great arena Captain! I thoroughly enjoyed it as I'm sure many others did. Best of luck with all the real world sorting you have before you and hopefully we'll see you back behind the reigns of your planned campaign soon!
 
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