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WHFB Arena RP Thread
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Old 27 Feb 2010, 10:22   #1 (permalink)
Shas'Ui
 
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Default WHFB Arena RP Thread

The moonlight shone into the arena lighting up the pale sands with a white glow. Pinpricks of light were scattered in the crowd as the held there torches and lanterns. The only real light source was from 12 torches on the walls of the arena lighting it up so the audience could just see the fight. Ogre Tyrant Gurunk Stonetooth looked out in the crowd from his viewing platform, the best seat in the house. His announcer, a human he took from a recent bloodbowl game started to speak. “Ladies, Gentlemen and goblins, we are here to watch fights of epic proportions and see who is the true champion of the Arena! This evenings fights as you can guess is between The Baron!” the crowd started to cheer and clap as a vampire walked out into the arena. “The next competitor is a little known hero from the chaos wastes but he gave us no name so let’s give a big cheer for the Exalted Champion of Tzeentch!” There was not that much of a clap, only a few marauders clapped who turned up to see the conflict. “Let the fight begin!”
[hr]
Before the crowd started to cheer the Tzeentch champion pulled a flame from a torch and threw it at the vampire, as it flew through the air it transformed into a skull that smashed into the armour of the Baron causing no damage. The Tzeentch champion pulled out his sword and shield and braced as a thunderbolt of vampire and steel collided into him. The vampire struck out but had met is match in this champion of Tzeentch who parried most of his blows. The Tzeentch champion replied and struck 2 blows into the Barons flank, one had bit deep and caused him to stagger to the side.
[hr]
The fury of the Baron could not be held and he let it take over him, fighting like a beast he hit the Tzeentch champion and cut his hamstring making him kneel on the floor. Brandishing his fangs, the Baron plunged at the neck of the Champion but he did not make it there and ended up only a hair away from the champion’s neck. A sword had pierced his heart and stopped him dead, starting to crumble to dust the Baron was no more. The Tzeentch Champion stood up and returned to the gate in silence.
A slow clapping started from the Tyrant and everybody joined him so they would not get eaten. “What a great fight, the Tzeentch champion has gone to the next round! The next fight is going to be between a mysterious vampire and a Daemon of Khone himself!” the announcer started as the crowds left the seating.
[hr]
Match Breakdown-
Magic-
Champion- Flaming skull cast, no wounds

Initiative Check
Baron- 7
Champion- 7

Combat-
Baron- 1 hit with re-roll, 1 wound, saved
Champion- 3 hits, 2 wounds, 1 save, 1 wound on Baron

Initiative Check
Baron- 8
Champion-7

Combat-
Baron- 3 hits with re-rolls, 2 wounds, 1 save, 1 wound on Champion
Champion- 1 hit, 1 wound, Failed save, Baron Dead.
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Old 28 Feb 2010, 10:28   #2 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

Iangill Firespeaker was pleased with himself as he returned to his cell. His first opponent had been vanquished. Sure he hadn't mentioned his name yet to his tyrant captor but now that he had won the first round that should change.

"You Snotling come over here now!" he shouted from his cell to a nearby gnoblar
Terrified the gnoblar approached only a little.
"Thank you that's far enough." using his third tentacle arm to pull the hapless gnoblar towards the bars of the cell door.
"Now where is a big enough area for me to write." almost ripping the ears of the gnoblar form its head.
"This should work." Iangill spoke while his hidden eyes started to glow with a luminescent orange.

"Phaos Dhoas Tzeen! Leth'Aqshy! Khaos Chamon'Phak! Ash-Aqshy!" starting to mumble loudly while words of fire appeared on the skull and ears of the gnoblar.

Now that you've been branded I want you to go to Tyrant Stonetooth I want to have some words with him.

Half Scared, Half seemingly mindless the gnoblar bowed deep and went off as fast as it's tiny legs could carry it towards the Tyrant hall.

Watching the gnoblar go, Firespeaker guessed it had 27 minutes 33 seconds and 50 miliseconds left. Almost a waste of time, those gnoblars still the rest of its life energy should serve him well, though his soul hungered for more.


OOC: I'll do the gnoblars hopefully safe arrival to the tyrants hall in a later post

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But Isn't it funny to think that guard might be able to copy eldar tactics slightly?
You mean "Perform Eldar tactics better than Eldar", right? :P
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Old 28 Feb 2010, 15:27   #3 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

Burleigh sat in his celllistening to the cheers and roars from the arena.

He said nothing, focussing with grim determination on the Runes in his Armour and Axe, polishing them, cleaning all dirt from them. He knew he would have to face at least one opponant, and maybe many more, and as a Dwarf, he was not prone to worry. He knew he was highly skilled and his weapons and armour were some of the finest availiable to him, made by Ironbrow himself.

What had possesed him to seek out this danger, he did not know, but he was here now, and he would face his deamons as they came to him.
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It is (and this is an objective statement, looking at examples over the last century) really ****ing hard to terrorise the British.
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Originally Posted by Shas'o Ahab
In parting, I've discovered why Farsight started his breakaway faction...
*Farsight looks at Dawn Blade* "Shiny..."*Farsight picks up Dawn Blade and looks around* "... let's be bad guys."
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Originally Posted by The man they call Waffles
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Old 28 Feb 2010, 20:35   #4 (permalink)
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As evening descended onto the arena again, lamps were lit and the spectators started to sit and eat their concessions. “Welcome to the next round of this prodigious arena! This evening fight is between a mysterious vampire from the empire and a The Goreseeker, a daemon of Khorne whose appearance has caused a lot of fires!” The gates opened and the two competitors walked out, both eyes locked onto each others. The vampire’s hellsteed whinnied and its wings started to unfurl and flap causing it to float in the air. “Let the fight begin!” the announcer shouted!
[hr]
The moment the last syllable left his mouth the vampire’s mouth uttered words not heard outside of dusty tomes and old times. A light shone in his eyes and he laid it on the Goreseeker, as he done so the fired burned brighter on its body and the light slowly faded from the vampire’s eyes. Realising he was fighting a magical resistant being he kicked his steeds flanks out of reach from the Goreseeker.
[hr]
“Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the skull throne!” screamed the Goreseeker as he looked up at his retreating opponent. This was no mortal though and it leapt into the stands of the spectators, bounding around side going higher and higher until he reached the same level of the vampire; he threw himself onto the vampire. The vampire was prepared though and struck out with his sword he kept hidden and slashed into the Goreseeker’s armoured body and pierced it once causing the daemon to scream out in pain but ended up losing the sword as the Goreseeker ripped out of his chest and threw it to the ground. The daemon of Khorne replied but the vampire was fast to avoid all but one hit which hit on a gem resting on his body. The gem flashed with the light of a thousand candles and soaked into the vampire’s body.
[hr]
The vampire started to contort in pain and screamed as the gem soaked up his blood and started to make him crumble into dust. As he fell to the ground his horse smashed into a pile of bones and rotting flesh and he just floated away on the wind. Landing on his feet the Goreseeker screamed in rage as he did not get a skull for Khorne. Looking to the audience and the trail of destruction he left he saw a lone man sat eating a new food called a hot hound watching in terror as the Goreseeker lept directly in front of him. Looking up he saw hell itself and he screamed and begged for his life. With one fell swoop the Goreseeker cut of his head and it dissolved into nothing and found a place in the sea of skulls. Feeling his job to be done he left the main arena and just paced around his cell.
[hr]
Fight Breakdown
Magic-
Gaze of Negash cast- Dispelled

Initiative check-
Goreseeker- 8
Vampire- 8

Combat-
Goreseeker- 1 hit with hatred, 1 wound, gem of blood failed.
Vampire- 2 Hits, 2 wounds, 1 save, Failed Invunrable.
Hellsteed- Miss

Vampire Dead
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Old 02 Mar 2010, 15:51   #5 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

[i]The Goreseeker fumed in his chamber. The battle had been too brief, the opponent a shrivelled vampire. The beast's skull had been skattered to the four winds, and even the skull of the horse had vanished, leaving the Goreseeker unfulfilled. The skull of the fan he had slaughtered was now one with the mountain of skulls the daemon had claimed in the name of his patron, but that was only the beginning. He would have his fill of slaughter soon enough, he vowed.

.....

The gnoblars scurried through the dungeon, platters of food balancing precariously as they rushed to feed the combatants. They had to hurry, because if their ogre masters smelled the food it would likely cause a stampede. The gnoblar stopped in front of a chamber, and instantly wet himself; the place looked like a charnel house, with blood and bodies scattered everywhere. Autograph seekers and eager fans, gnobar servants and assassins all littered the floor, headless corpses that had been savaged by the occupant. The Khorne daemon now glistened with blood, and seemed somehow reinvigorated. Quicker than the eye could see, the daemon lashed out and grasped the Gnoblar by the head. Hellfire erupted from the hand of the Goreseeker, incinerating all trace of the vermin except for the skull. With a roar of satisfaction, he howled out for all his victims to hear,

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF KHORNE!
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Old 02 Mar 2010, 16:42   #6 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

Tyrant Gurunk Stonetooth looked up from his bowl of food when he was disturbed by a permanently wincing wizened gnoblar who entered his hall.

Just as he was about quash he gnoblar for it's insolence he noticed that the gnoblar's ears and head were written full of burning and smouldering runes which hurt even his eyes.

The gnoblar spoke in a voice no gnoblar had ever spoke. with burning lips and tongue it spoke.
"My name is Iangill Firespeaker, I am the Champion of Tzeentch who partakes in your tournament. I thought it was time to introduce myself"
"I would also like the servants be replenished in our chambers we are running out of them."
"Now I must leave, I hope you enjoy the fights" the gnoblar finished giving a very big smile to the Tyrant before self igniting and turning to ash in a few seconds.
Leaving a Confused Tyrant who went back to eating.

Iangill Firespeaker paced around his chamber, for he disliked considering himself a prisoner, he hoped that the Tyrant would replenish the servants soon. between him and the Khorne Daemon a lot of them had been either drained of energy or killed. Add to that the remaining vampire who probably had claimed quite a few humans to give him blood and the dark elf who's probably torturing his next victim to death to amuse him before his fight, the only servants left were some surly gnoblars which were just not appetising or filling at all. No he wanted a nice elf or a human in his prime.

What must the Bretonian and the dwarf be thinking caught within this vileness? mmh maybe he should go and amuse them, make them forget their peril, yes he should it would only be gentlemanly. Now what to do...
He knew, a re-enactment of Giles le breton by the Skullcraker gnoblar stage group supported by the gnoblar screaming chorus.

"Who wants to volunteer?" he said gleefully to the gnoblars he had collected.
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But Isn't it funny to think that guard might be able to copy eldar tactics slightly?
You mean "Perform Eldar tactics better than Eldar", right? :P
Not unless the Eldar have an obscure Warrior Aspect that revolves around the complete mastery of the common light bulb.
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Old 02 Mar 2010, 18:23   #7 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

Burleigh hefted his axe, checking weight and balance. He knew it was perfect, he had checked it a thousand times before.

He has heard the screams and the roaring from the vile Chaos Worshipper, and set his mind firmly on his destruction if he survived the first round.

Lifting his armour from his bed, he began to strap it on, speaking the runes as he did so, seeing them glow as he spoke. His years of training as a Runesmith had not been wasted, but he had never developed the precision with the tools to craft them to the standard of his Master. His rise to Thane had been an obvious one from there onwards due to his heritige.

He turned to the Door of the cell, spoke the ancient words, and his axe glowed. he swung at the lock of the door, cleaving it in half, and clad in glowing armour he stalked out of the door towards the Chaos Champions cell. He found him there, doing nothing but staring out into the hall.

Burleigh approached the bars and looked the Champion in the eyes, getting no response. He observed for a few moments, then turned on his heel and went back to his cell, unaware that his passage was observed by a small, glowing Gnoblar.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Circus
It is (and this is an objective statement, looking at examples over the last century) really ****ing hard to terrorise the British.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shas'o Ahab
In parting, I've discovered why Farsight started his breakaway faction...
*Farsight looks at Dawn Blade* "Shiny..."*Farsight picks up Dawn Blade and looks around* "... let's be bad guys."
Quote:
Originally Posted by The man they call Waffles
Jayne you y'xa'uuk legend
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Old 02 Mar 2010, 19:16   #8 (permalink)
Shas'Vre
 
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

They had come to his manor house seeking him to take part in a tournament, their actions a crude parody of human nobility that would have been comical, had it not been so insulting. He slew the insolent Ogre and returned to his manor house, where the beautiful damosel Justine awaited his tender attentions.

That evening he had the most humbling dream. He wandered through the wilderness for days, hopelessly lost, until he came to a small forest lake. There he rested beneath an impossibly tall evergreen. Thirsty, he knelt at the shore of the lake to drink. It was then that he saw her. Clad in flowing garments of brilliant light (provocatively placed, he noted), the most beautiful woman he had ever seen strode across the lake towards him. He was entranced as he watched her walk, and when she spoke, her voice echoed with infinite beauty. Truly, he was receiving a blessed vision of the Lady of the Lake! And every description of her he had heard was seriously lacking.

"Noble son of Bretonnia, I place a choice before you. Though they are savages, the invitation you have received from the Ogres is genuine. As such, you must choose, do you accept the Ogre invitation and be my blessed champion at the tournament," at this, she held out her right hand as though the option were a physical object in her hand. Jean's gaze followed her motion to look at the empty hand, "or do you remain here, seeking glory in the folds of a damosel's garments?" Her left hand extended out as if to hold this option as well. Jean's gaze drifted away from her right hand, and settled on her left hand. He began to let out a heavy and contented sigh when he heard a crack of thunder, and went flying as the Lady slapped him heavily across the cheek with her right hand.

The look of shock on his face must have been readily apparent, as the Lady had a bemused smirk on her face when he stood up. She drifted over the shoreline to him, leaned down and whispered, "The choice is yours." With that, she walked slowly, and rather seductively, back out across the water of the lake. When she reached the middle, she glanced back over her shoulder, winked at Jean, and vanished.

Jean sat back down to ponder the significance of what he had seen, but distant thunder continued to echo across the sky. It steadily increased in volume until it drowned out his every thought. He stood, not knowing in preparation for what, when a lightning bolt struck nearby. The blast sent him hurling through the air...

And he landed with a thump upon his bedroom floor amid bits of what used to be his roof. Nearby, the fair maiden Caroline was screaming. Quickly, Sir Jean surveyed the scene outside through a window. He counted no less that fifteen Ogres, some with what looked to be cannons strapped to their arms, effectively laying siege to his manor house.

The Ogres shouted out their "invitation" to the tournament yet again, and Jean's cheek ached as he remembered his vision. Knowing that neither his honor, nor his manor would survive should he refuse such an invitation, Jean packed up his belongings, bid farewell to the lovely Daphne, and set off with the Ogres, pack train in tow. He gave his word to the Ogre leader that he would win this tournament, or die in the attempt, and that he would not leave until it was over.


Sir Jean d'Amorica sighed heavily as he remember all the fair maidens he had left behind. He sent his stable boy off for some rest and picked up a brush. He began to brush his prized charger's mane and idly spoke to it, "Ahh Louie, to be at home in Quenelles, that is where I wish to be. But alas, I have been given a quest, by the Lady no less, and I shall have to endure." He sighed once more, then gave Louie his feedbag. He looked around the small stable area the Ogres had let him use at his four other chargers. As Jean's steeds had a habit of getting killed out from under him, he kept several spares, and so that he did not get confused, he had named them all Louie. He took a moment to brush them all out and feed them, before walking back to his room, which was little more than a cell. It seemed that even these savages had heard of Bretonnian honor, but they did not trust him with free reign. No matter where he or his few personal attendants went, there was always a gnoblar or Ogre following.

As he lay back on what passed for a bed in his room, Sir Jean mused to himself, I shall slay these savages in the name of the Lady, and then return home to untold Glory. Perhaps I will dream of Her again ...

OOC: Yes, I'm aware that I used a different woman's name each time I referred to a woman in Jean's company. It's intentional.
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Old 02 Mar 2010, 22:14   #9 (permalink)
Shas'Ui
 
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The tyrant looked at the gnobler with amusment and just laughed. “Go tell Iangill Firespeaker, your new master that I will tend to his needs and not to worry.” Boomed Gurunk with spittle and food hitting the poor gnobler. The gnobler scurried off and told Iangill that his need would be met. “So he wants new servants does he, find some orc women and send them down there. Also the uglier, the better!” Laughed Gurunk.

“Welcome to today’s arena as we have two knights fighting it for your pleasure.” The Brettonian fans started to cheer and yell as they knew that he was one of the knights. “ As you can tell we have Brettonian Paladin Sir Jean d'Amorica and a Dark Elf Master Helvyl Duskhunter! “ Only a chirp and a belch could be heard when his name was read out. The gates opened and outs trotted the Paladin giving a salute to the Dark Elf and bowed his head in prayer. Helvyl just spat on the ground and turned to the announcer. “Let the fight begin!” The announcer shouted.

The Paladin burst into action and cantered at the Master at full speed. Helvyl just laughed and charged, his weapon steaming from the frost it generated. Before he knew what happened Sir Jean hit him with a lance and battered him with his shield, Helvyl laughed as it bounced off of his armour and struck down with his blade. It cut through the armour of Sir Jean like butter, Sir Jean felt his body freezing and shutting down, his mantle though started to warm him and the blessing made him glow like a angel. Continuing on his path Sit Jean went to the other side of the arena and turned. Pulling out his sword he charged again. This time though the Helvyl was expecting him and twisted so only a few hit him but one got through and cut into his chest.. On the return blow he hit deep and made Sir Jean bleed.

Still continuing on the paladin turned yet again but ended up getting charged himself, the frost blade hit home and just cut him on the arm but it was enough for the chill to spread yet again, but like his last encounter he glowed from the blessing and warmed in seconds. In his vain attempt to get away from Helvyl he was simply cut down and froze into ice statue still, contorted in pain from his seconds alive. Seeing his job Done Helvyl cheered into the air and pointed at a lone woman in the stands to come into the pits with him. She went down later that day but what happened is not best to say.

(OOC: This was the longest fight I have see and was evenly matched but bad luck to Icycool as he was a one shot at the start.)
[hr]
Combat Breakdown:
Initiative Check:
Sir Jean- 7
Helvyl-7

Combat
Sir Jean- 3 Hits, 3 Wounds, further 2 Hits and 2 Wounds from Virtue of Knightly Temper, All Saves made.
Helvyl- 3 Hits, 3 Wounds, 1 Failed Toughness Test from Frostblade, Wardfrom blessing saved, all other wounds saved.

Initiative Check
Sir Jean- 8
Helvyl- 7

Combat 2
Sir Jean- 2 Hits, 1 Wound, Further 1 Hit and 1 Wound, 1 failed save.
Helvyl- 2 Hits, 1 Wound, 1 Failed Toughness test, wound. All other wounds saved.

Initiative Check
Sir Jean- 6
Helvyl- 9

Combat 3
Helvyl- 2 Hits, 1 Wound, 1 Failed Toughness test, Ward Saved, all other wounded saved
Sir Jean- No hits

Initiative Check
Sir Jean- 6
Helvyl- 7

Combat 4
Helvyl- 3 Hits, 2 Wounds, 1 Failed Toughness Test, Blessing Failed, Dead.
The mounts had done nothing so I did not include them.
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Old 03 Mar 2010, 00:05   #10 (permalink)
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Default Re: WHFB Arena RP Thread

Panic. Freedom. Confusion.

All these thoughts ran through Louie's simple, horse mind, and they gave him both speed and strength. Unlike every steed before him, Louie had survived a battle carrying Jean d'Amorica. Sure, Louie had never been much of a warhorse, and he certainly didn't do much in this fight, but Sir Jean wasn't going to be able to punish him for it. The poncy little t'auk'cka was a block of ice now, and the Dark Elf was too busy cheering for himself to notice Louie. So Louie did the only sensible thing a horse could do.

He ran.

Screaming gnoblars were trampled underfoot, hulking Ogres were bodily knocked out of the way, and that vicious little stable boy lost a finger to Louie's bite. Louie caused no small amount of chaos as he sprinted out of the Ogre camp.

He ran for days, not really knowing where, just that he had to get away, that he had to taste freedom. His random retreat eventually saw him to a peaceful forest grove, where he lay to rest. He dreamed of a nice glowing lady who fed him apples and told him that he'd done well. Better than she'd expected, in fact. She told him that when he awoke, he'd have his reward.

The next morning, Louie awoke to the soft nuzzling of a female unicorn.

What happened next, my friends, is not a tale for these hallowed halls...
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