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Post by Gyre on Apr 9, 2007 22:08:37 GMT -5
(Ok, I had a thought for a new RPG.. Let's just have an all out brawl. Fight after fight after fight. Senseless violence. lol ;D And our excuse would be this competition that takes place in the open plains, far away from any village. This is where young warriors, (or a new charrie) would come to try their hand at battle. There is a prize of 10,000 GP for the single winner, whatever that means to you.  Let's try and keep it decent though. No endlessly powerful charecters, no wipping random weapons out of no where.. ) Name: Ulric Dass Species: Female Wolf Background: Bounty hunter Weapon: Two daggers and a jo (short staff) Ulric Dass could see the outline of the camp against the rosy sunset. The plains were flat a cool in the spring dusk. The wolf had been walking for weeks, slowly toward the competition. As she got closer, her hackles pickled, and a smiled crept across her angular face. She could smell those vermin. She was tough as nails, and sure, as sure as she had ever been, that she could win the competition. She had been fighting her whole life,and she loved it. As the young, female wolf walked into the camp, her pack heavy and damp from a heavy rainstorm, she set up her lean-to beside the dozen or so tents that already stood. In the center of the camp, there was a ring, lined with fist sized rocks. The ground was wet and dappled with silvery puddles, reflecting the nearly full moon. The competition would begin in two days. Ulric Dass lied down to sleep that night, smiling. her mind was in the future, in the muddy ring right outside her tent. The storm moved in and the rain hit the young wolf's tent like pebbles. |
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Post by xylon on Apr 10, 2007 0:43:04 GMT -5
Name: Xylon
Species: Male wolf
Background: Traveler, Mercenary
Weapons: Mace-and-chain, 2 throwing daggers, med-sized sword.
Xylon had been camped in the plains for almost a week, awaiting the competition to start. He listened to the rain outside, and what he thought to be another warrior setting up a tent. He loved storms, especially when there was nothing to do during them.
Xylon wasn't a particularly strong wolf, but he was swift. The elongated life of his kind had been useful to him, and Xylon had traveled the lands in his years and picked up fighting tricks as he went, his own style eventually emerging. As he lay in his tent, he wondered what kind of creatures would be competing against him. Xylon didn't really expect nor desire to win, but just wanted to have a good time, exercise his skills and maybe even learn from the fellow warriors.
He had no desire to kill at the moment. He hoped it would stay that way; Xylon didn't want to look back upon this contest as a bad memory.
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Post by benon on Apr 10, 2007 20:09:42 GMT -5
Name: Molejack Benon
Species: Mole
Age: 26 seasons
Profession: Pirate, smuggler, warrior, mercenary
Weapons: Longsword Daggers small shield
Benon and his crew had caught wind of the competition from some coastal tribe. He wanted the money to settle down on the plains or perhaps build himself a city-boat. He had set up his camp on the outskirts, protesting the horrible reak of vermin. His crew's galley slaves of midget weasels had carried his waterlogged cabin from the wreckage of his ship and set up some tents around it. He was thinking about offering up twenty of the slaves as prizes also with the 10k gold. But for now he was content to prepare himself for battle
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Post by xylon on Apr 10, 2007 20:17:24 GMT -5
Xylon walked out of his tent, feeling the cool rain against his back. He looked around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the competition. Seeing a mole scrambling around in a tent on the outskirts of the hill, Xylon almost laughed. Mole warriors.
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Post by benon on Apr 10, 2007 20:22:12 GMT -5
Having bathed, Benon decided to go for a stroll. Maby he would head over to the tent that was serving as a cantina. Then he saw a wolf gawking at him. He decided to have a word with the disbelieving wolf. "Oi, you thurr. Close thoi gobb an' tell oi whet es se fenne. Blast ee speak ee oop!" he hollered, paws akimbo, as he yelled and worked himself into a frenzy his outrageous French accent began popping up.
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Post by xylon on Apr 10, 2007 20:30:14 GMT -5
OOC: Benon has a French accent? Strange...
Xylon smiled at the gargarious mole. "Well, you don't see many mole warriors. Seeing as your kind isn't very, er...cut out for battle."
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Post by benon on Apr 10, 2007 20:31:08 GMT -5
OOC: I always fancied a french speaking mole wi wi!
"Well, ee'l see bout thet naow woan't wee. Oi ur gledd ter see sommat wiv a gudd attitood towards ee skermishen hurrhurr." He chuckled and his slightly bloated stomach jiggled a little. What a merry little fellow I am, he thought.
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Post by xylon on Apr 10, 2007 20:39:35 GMT -5
OOC: I ROFLed ;D
Xylon hid a laugh. Moles were good creatures. Gesturing to a tent-free area in the hills to the west, Xylon called out. "Do ye' fancy a bit of practice before the contest?"
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Post by Gyre on Apr 11, 2007 20:23:02 GMT -5
Ulric Dass wondered from her tent late that morning, and paced the outer edge of the circle. She watched the creatures who also wondered around the small encampent. She barely glanced at a wolf and a mole who seemed to be conversing, but she looked away as the drums sounded.
It was a war thunder. The rythm and power made Ulric Dass's blood boil. She looked to the center of the soon to be battle field as a huge badger beating the drum stopped, to let a large, strong fox stand and speak before the crowd.
"Let us begin," as he spoke, creatures started to wonder from their shelters, and some came from teh surrounding terrain.
"I am Marion Rust," he bellowed, and We all know why we are hear," he laughed deeply, "So let us wait no longer!" Catching a sack of gold pieces that was tossed to him from outside the circle, the fox dropped it at his feet, and grinned.
"I've got many, many more of these," he said, "and one beast with have the money when the end of this comes... May the first contestants gather round!"
Ulric Dass didn't shoot to the ringside, but took a step back. She wanted to watch first. It was never good to act rashly. Never. The young wolfess glanced over her shoulder, to see who came foreward.
The first beast to step forward was a husky, marten. in his left paw, he dragged a heavy war hammer. Without a word, he stepped into the center of the ring, and gazed out at the crowd grimmly. His chainm,ail glistened in the hot, midday sun, and his tail swished constantly, but the hammer never left the sand.
"Who will face this beast?" Marion shouted.
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Post by benon on Apr 12, 2007 16:40:56 GMT -5
Benon made his way to the edge of the ring, "Oi'll face ee wuffer! Yo, bring oi moi sward an' nives." A shrew from his crew brought forth his longsword and his twin knives. Putting one knife in his boot and the other in his left paw backwards and his sword in his Right paw, he stepped toward the marten, he was nearly a head shorter than the hammer-weilding vermin. He heard sblack personing from one of the vermin waving the marten's flag. He winked at Rabadib, his firstmate hare. Rabadib moved quickly, he hit the sblack personer with his trusty frying pan, he fell on the ground senseless. With the entire scene quiet, the fox hollered out again.
"BEEEEEEEEEEELAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! Attention all combatants! The rules are as follows this is a fight to the death, except for the final two rounds, we wouldn't wanna wipe the best warriors from the face of the earth now would we? Anything goes, hits below the belt, sneak attacks and whatever else you can think of. HAVE AT IT!!"
OOC: I hope it's ok to use the fox.
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Post by xylon on Apr 13, 2007 16:08:20 GMT -5
Xylon stood back, awaiting the match to start. He hoped the mole would prevail; he didn't like to see them killed, they were good creatures. Something caught his eye; a female wolf was amoung the crowd, watching the marten and the mole. Xylon wondered. He had never met a female wolf before. Passing the thought out of his mind, he turned back to the combatants, locked in a circle of death.
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Post by benon on Apr 13, 2007 16:12:31 GMT -5
OOC: Are you gonna control the marten, cuz if you do, I'll modify post. OK? OK.
Benon lunged, and feinted right. The marten did exactly what he thought he would do. He rolled left to get behind his adversary. Benon whipped around and slashed with his knife, the marten's hammer went up to try and smash his head and then Benon KICKED THE MARTEN IN THE NADS. The marten staggered back and dropped the hammer.
P.S. Bad moley BAD ;D
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Post by xylon on Apr 13, 2007 16:22:37 GMT -5
Xylon watched as the mole warrior outmaneuvered and disarmed the marten. He had underestimated the warrior's ability.
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Post by benon on Apr 16, 2007 16:48:58 GMT -5
"Pick et oop!" Commanded Benon. The marten slowly picked up his hammer then slammed the hammer on Benon's foot, it missed though. (A shot to the nads can really disorientate and screw you up. Sheesh.) "Hoooooo! Ee almost het moi futter." Benon said. He hurled his knife at the marten, it stuck in his forehead. Benon won.
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Post by xylon on Apr 16, 2007 18:57:49 GMT -5
The wolf inwardly grinned as the marten fell to the ground. He was also surprised. He had never known a mole to take a life willingly, and yet this short warrior did so easily. Smart mole.
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