The red painted line leads down into a waiting area that looks like it could fit a couple hundred individuals, but there are only a dozen or so sorry looking people with tattered bits of armor and no weapons at all. The watch the three of you with your fancy equipment with quiet awe. One starts to approach you but is cut off by a sharp whistle which draws your attention to a halfling woman who rides sidesaddle on an 8ft tall two legged carnivorous dinosaur. Her hair is braided with precious stones and gems and tattoos cover her neck and the bare skin of her arms. A thin, long flowing dress covers her, concealing her lower half. She's smiling, but there's danger in her eyes.
"Welcome to the coliseum, you sorry sacks of meat. You lot, what are you doing with weapons drawn? You'll be using training weapons for today, it's the qualifying rounds we're trying not to kill any of you off before tomorrow's games."
Musharib leads the Sherri and Meera up into the arena which has a few audience members but looks like it could seat thousands. It's fairly plain, with few adornments but ever two hundred yards or so there are motifs of warriors fighting animals along the walls that mark each section. The entire coliseum looks as if it were carved out of a giant block of sandstone and the seats are worn from centuries of audiences taking their seats, or standing on them, and there are grease and blood stains that couldn't quite be wiped clean. Over all it is an impressive sight, even empty as it is, and its easy to imagine what a spectacle it might be, dressed up for a major event and full to the brim with masses of spectators.
"HA!" Misha barks in a laugh, slapping Dornos on the back. "She call us sacks of meet! Joke ees about her - I like to eat meet!" but then saddens at the fact she wouldn't be able to use her mighty hammer. She nods and reconciles with the notion. "Very well. Enjoy challenge!"
"Fine..." Aphos sheathes his blade and tosses it to the side of the ring, "Something of the same size, then."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Good, follow me then," the halfling woman says, tugging on the reins of her mount. The huge beast gives all of the prospective combatants a sneer as it turns and the woman and her beast lead you past two pairs of guards into a massive armory where everything is locked up in cages. She unhooks a set of keys from her belt and her mount crouches to allow her to reach down to the lock. She slides the cage door open revealing wooden weapons of every size and shape. They are not well balanced, but are close approximations to their iron and steel counterparts otherwise. "Take what you like and then follow me to the arena."
[ooc : assuming you follow her instruction]
She leads the group into an enormous arena which is mostly empty, but a handful of spectators can be seen wandering the seats above. "Welcome to the Arena meatbags. I am Fleia, your Master of Arms. We'll have three rounds; a ranged round with moving targets, a wrestling match, and a grand melee. Let's start with you three lollygaggers for the ranged contest. Everyone else grab these targets. If your target is struck you'll be doing push ups until the last target is hit, so you'd better run as though your lives depended on it. Go!"
[ooc: I'm going to treat the first two rounds as skill challenges.
ranged round; each participating player can go ahead and make 3 ranged attacks with their favored weapon against AC12 targets.
wrestling round; each participating player will make a single athletics roll and can gain advantage if they describe the wrestling move they are trying to execute in detail
the grand melee; will be a one strike and you're out round that will be kind of chaotic. I'll roll a bunch of dice for the NPCs once this comes up.
for now we'll start with the ranged round so go for 3 ranged attacks each!]
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Sherri sits idly beside Meera, waiting for this whole shebang to start. As she’s swinging her legs, taking a gander at the hand full of people hanging about, she remembers she’s a ******* bard gets the idea to try and help her comrades in the only way she knew how.
”Hey, ********, over here!!” Sherri had moved up so the three could get a good look at her, the brunette flailing her arms for added effect just in case. Once she grabbed their attention, her hands go to the hem of her shirt and with absolutely no hesitation or shame, lifts up the piece of fabric to flash ‘em the good bits!
”I better see y’all hit those marks!” She shouts, giving the trio a wink before putting the girls away and sitting back down next to the nerd girl. “That oughta help them a bit I think.”
Titspiration for the three! +1d6
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Aeydof the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Meera's so startled by Sherri's "inspiring display" that she almost falls out of her seat. "Oh my Sherri, you certainly aren't as shy as I thought you were when we met at Lady Syndra's home. I certainly think that you've provided more than enough motivation for our friends."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Misha took Dornos and Aphos by the shoulder, pulled them in close, heads almost touching. "Come, close. I will bless us. Bow heads, for now time for reverence." Once everyone was together, she bowed her head, and locked arms with Dornos and Aphos - and spoke softly.
Bane, My Lord General, bless us on this day - for we ask you to watch over us in this moment as we attempt to gain glory and honor in your favor. May you watch over us and guide us in this moment of opportunity. Do this for us, and I shall serve you till the end of my days, for only in death, does duty end.
BLESS: You bless up to three creatures of your choice within range. Whenever a target makes an attack roll or a saving throw before the spell ends, the target can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the attack roll or saving throw.
She gave them each a smile, and the paladin went to her position. That's when Misha heard someone calling out, and breasts emerging. She threw her head back and laughed mightily, and took her hand and blew Sherri a kiss, promising herself later to thank her personally for the inspiration. "Not bad, if admit!" she told herself.
Misha looked at the wooden hammer she picked up from the armory and tossed it aside after hearing the first part of the test was a ranged test. "Won't need dat." she mumbled, and picked up three javelins.
"Ha." she snorted, almost laughing "Nice toothpick."
She got serious for a moment, felt the weight of the javelin in her hand, and looked at the target. She tried to remember her training, but not a lot of it involved thrown weapons. After all, her creation and programming involved the use of Acheronian Warhammers. She aimed. With a mighty heft and a grunt, she threw the first one.
TOSS: 18 BLESSED: 3 TITSPO: 5
It thunked into the target. She picked up the second javelin, aimed, and threw, hard.
CHUCK: 16 BLESSED: 3 TITSPO: 3
Another hit. One more. She picked it up, aimed, and threw it with all the arm strength she could muster.
HEAVE: 20 BLESSED: 2 TITSPO: 2
She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, thanking her Lord General, and Sherri.
Dornos takes to the training ground. “I appreciate the blessing; may thy god grant us victory today as well as tomorrow,” he says to Misha.
Taking his positions, Dornos smiles as he imagines throngs of spectators. He extends his hands and draws a pretend bow, as if miming the action. Then, his eyes flash darkly, and from nothing, a coral-accented bow materializes in his hands, complete with non-lethal arrows.
Dornos is confident. “Hands, obey thy master.” He aims and fires, one, two, three targets in quick succession during the first qualifying exercise, doing his best to avoid getting hit in the process.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
[ooc: you can only use inspiration on one attack each so I'll just apply it to the first one each of you mentioned]
Even with Aphos missing one of the targets, the three of you manage to beat out the competition, expertly dispatching the targets in quick order. The other combatants are grateful since it means less push ups for them, but then they take their turns and it is a miserable sight. Musharib can be heard jeering in the background and the Fleia admonishes them harshly as they repeatedly fail to hit targets, and as some of the targets are struck the prospective combatants groan and complain as they have to do hundreds of push ups while they wait. Eventually Fleia just shakes her head and shouts for the next group until everyone has had an opportunity.
"Right, now the wrestling matches begin. Everyone strip to their skivvies, I won't have anyone complaining that their eye was poked out by a stray spiked pauldron or anything of the sort."
[ooc : remember if you describe how you are wrestling your opponent I might give you advantage! For now just write your post and give me two athletics rolls each please.]
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Misha presses a latch and her armor neatly folds in on itself again, and puts it aside carefully. Underneath was a tight black form fitting bra with large shoulder straps that barely covered her upper body, leaving her entire stomach exposed - and black tight shorts that were way too high. She took a moment to stretch and prepare for the wrestling match that was about to happen. Every move she took made her lean, tight, defined muscles pop and dance, and within a few moments she was prepared. She tied her hair in a ponytail and clapped her hands once. Let's do this. She gave Meera and Sherri a quick smile and wave, and turned back to the ring to focus.
"Just like bek home when child, ya, Misha?" she told herself.
She approached her opponent and bowed her head. "Challenger, I am Misha." she made an attempt to lock hands in respect. "May honor and glory be with us, this day!" she smiled and went back to her starting position. She raised her hands and crouched, muscles coiled and ready to strike. When the signal was given, she sprang.
Athletics: 14
Just like back home, the boys and girls always loved to wrestle on Acheron, especially during her training. She lunged and grabbed her opponents shoulders and prepared for a typical move she liked to pull. Misha was not the size of a barbarian, but very strong, and used her maneuvers and tactics to her advantage. Anyone watching her at that moment would gain a perfect lesson in muscular anatomy as she flexed and strained against her opponent, be he was too slow. She swung her right leg behind his, found an opportunity to bring her arm away from his tight grip around her wrist, and Misha slammed her arm against his neck from the front, using her power and momentum to push him down from behind her leg, in a sweep. Her opponent crashed to the ground and still holding on, she used the inertia and fell on him, pinning him down, pressing on his neck and holding his arm out in an unusual position.
Misha's opponent, a lean looking hairless human man, looks surprised as Misha charges at him. As she dives at him he reels backwards and as she rolls him into a pinned position on the floor, he goes limp and somehow the force of her inertia carries him over her and he ends up atop her pinning her to the ground.
He looks as surprised as she does, his chest pressing down on hers. A smile starts to dawn on his face as he realizes he might be winning, when Misha kips up forcing the man to roll backwards. As he struggles to a standing position, Misha lunges toward him in a flying scissor kick that takes him to the ground and knocks the wind out of him.
The man looks dazed and confused an struggles for a second before he passes out entirely.
"Hmm... impressive" Fleia looks Misha up and down.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Aphos and his opponent step to the center of the ring, all of the other prospective combatants gathered around in a large circle, watching and cheering as Misha emerges victorious. A hulking she-orc stands across from Aphos, glaring up at him, flexing her rippling muscles. Her small bare breasts bounce stiffly as she beats her chest and lets out a mighty roar, charging toward him just before Fleia says, "Commence!"
Aphos strips his armor in as many piecemeal bits as it seemed to be held together with. After the mound grew as high as the bull's knee, Aphos was finally ready. Stepping into the ring, the minotaur threw his weight against the orc, dropping his head low to wrap and sweep the opponent's legs.
(Strength checks: 22 or 16)
His horns slammed the woman's waist and buckled her form. Aphos' mighty arms locked onto her knees and threatened to lift her from the ground entirely if she didn't fall over first. With a knee to the ground, he bull pushed his shoulders up, attempting to hurl the woman across the ring.
(If the enemy saves vs. Grappled, need a DC 13 STR save or be pushed 10')
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
In a true contest of strength, Aphos and the orc slam into each other, hand in hand pressing with all of their might. The orc shoots for Aphos's knee and Aphos spreads his legs apart and grabs the orc woman from above, lifting her heavy body with ease. She coils herself around one of Aphos's immense arms and pulls it into a bar, causing Aphos to grunt with discomfort, but he shakes her off and tackles her to the ground pinning her.
Fleia cackles with glee, "Now that was an entertaining match! See that the rest of you follow their example!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Dornos the triton and a disheveled looking older dwarf who can be smelled from across the ring of prospective gladiators enter the circle. This dwarf is ruddy cheeked and has a dark scraggly beard, and does not appear to be related in any way to Musharib's kin. Dornos suspects he's a traveler from Faerun. The dwarf has a crazed look in his eyes an looks everywhere but at Dornos.
Misha pats the cheek happily of her unconscious opponent as he passes out from under her, and say, "You wrestled bravely, my friend, and have fought against a worthy opponent. You have won much glory and honor - even in defeat. Thus is the will of Bane."
She gets up easily, dusts herself off, and steps off to the sidelines, but not without waving to Meera first, and blowing Sherri a kiss.
The red painted line leads down into a waiting area that looks like it could fit a couple hundred individuals, but there are only a dozen or so sorry looking people with tattered bits of armor and no weapons at all. The watch the three of you with your fancy equipment with quiet awe. One starts to approach you but is cut off by a sharp whistle which draws your attention to a halfling woman who rides sidesaddle on an 8ft tall two legged carnivorous dinosaur. Her hair is braided with precious stones and gems and tattoos cover her neck and the bare skin of her arms. A thin, long flowing dress covers her, concealing her lower half. She's smiling, but there's danger in her eyes.
"Welcome to the coliseum, you sorry sacks of meat. You lot, what are you doing with weapons drawn? You'll be using training weapons for today, it's the qualifying rounds we're trying not to kill any of you off before tomorrow's games."
Musharib leads the Sherri and Meera up into the arena which has a few audience members but looks like it could seat thousands. It's fairly plain, with few adornments but ever two hundred yards or so there are motifs of warriors fighting animals along the walls that mark each section. The entire coliseum looks as if it were carved out of a giant block of sandstone and the seats are worn from centuries of audiences taking their seats, or standing on them, and there are grease and blood stains that couldn't quite be wiped clean. Over all it is an impressive sight, even empty as it is, and its easy to imagine what a spectacle it might be, dressed up for a major event and full to the brim with masses of spectators.
~♡~
"HA!" Misha barks in a laugh, slapping Dornos on the back. "She call us sacks of meet! Joke ees about her - I like to eat meet!" but then saddens at the fact she wouldn't be able to use her mighty hammer. She nods and reconciles with the notion. "Very well. Enjoy challenge!"
Dornos grabs whatever training weapons are nearby and tests them for balance, while waiting for the opportunity to use them.
DM - Storm King's Thunder PbP | Yet Another Storm King's Thunder PbP
Current: Eogard Duramastar, Human Twilight Cleric/Star Druid | Eiren Lathrana, Shadar-Kai Eldritch Knight/Bladesinger | Arugula, Rabbitfolk Armorer
Survivor: CrispyDM's Saltmarsh as Syltra | SarcasticFury's Strahd as Hadrian Frozenspark | Forge of Fury as The DM
"Fine..." Aphos sheathes his blade and tosses it to the side of the ring, "Something of the same size, then."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Misha finds the biggest hammer she can. Takes it, looks at Dornos and Aphos, and gives them a nice slow, sly grin.
"Good, follow me then," the halfling woman says, tugging on the reins of her mount. The huge beast gives all of the prospective combatants a sneer as it turns and the woman and her beast lead you past two pairs of guards into a massive armory where everything is locked up in cages. She unhooks a set of keys from her belt and her mount crouches to allow her to reach down to the lock. She slides the cage door open revealing wooden weapons of every size and shape. They are not well balanced, but are close approximations to their iron and steel counterparts otherwise. "Take what you like and then follow me to the arena."
[ooc : assuming you follow her instruction]
She leads the group into an enormous arena which is mostly empty, but a handful of spectators can be seen wandering the seats above. "Welcome to the Arena meatbags. I am Fleia, your Master of Arms. We'll have three rounds; a ranged round with moving targets, a wrestling match, and a grand melee. Let's start with you three lollygaggers for the ranged contest. Everyone else grab these targets. If your target is struck you'll be doing push ups until the last target is hit, so you'd better run as though your lives depended on it. Go!"
[ooc: I'm going to treat the first two rounds as skill challenges.
ranged round; each participating player can go ahead and make 3 ranged attacks with their favored weapon against AC12 targets.
wrestling round; each participating player will make a single athletics roll and can gain advantage if they describe the wrestling move they are trying to execute in detail
the grand melee; will be a one strike and you're out round that will be kind of chaotic. I'll roll a bunch of dice for the NPCs once this comes up.
for now we'll start with the ranged round so go for 3 ranged attacks each!]
~♡~
(Holding this until *something* good happens lol)
Aphos takes up a trio of javelins:
Attacks: 9, 10, 16
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Sherri sits idly beside Meera, waiting for this whole shebang to start. As she’s swinging her legs, taking a gander at the hand full of people hanging about, she
remembers she’s a ******* bardgets the idea to try and help her comrades in the only way she knew how.”Hey, ********, over here!!” Sherri had moved up so the three could get a good look at her, the brunette flailing her arms for added effect just in case. Once she grabbed their attention, her hands go to the hem of her shirt and with absolutely no hesitation or shame, lifts up the piece of fabric to flash ‘em the good bits!
”I better see y’all hit those marks!” She shouts, giving the trio a wink before putting the girls away and sitting back down next to the nerd girl. “That oughta help them a bit I think.”
Titspiration for the three! +1d6
Aeyd of the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk
Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm
Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid
Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue
Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm
/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Meera's so startled by Sherri's "inspiring display" that she almost falls out of her seat. "Oh my Sherri, you certainly aren't as shy as I thought you were when we met at Lady Syndra's home. I certainly think that you've provided more than enough motivation for our friends."
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
More
Misha took Dornos and Aphos by the shoulder, pulled them in close, heads almost touching. "Come, close. I will bless us. Bow heads, for now time for reverence." Once everyone was together, she bowed her head, and locked arms with Dornos and Aphos - and spoke softly.
Bane, My Lord General, bless us on this day - for we ask you to watch over us in this moment as we attempt to gain glory and honor in your favor. May you watch over us and guide us in this moment of opportunity. Do this for us, and I shall serve you till the end of my days, for only in death, does duty end.
BLESS: You bless up to three creatures of your choice within range. Whenever a target makes an attack roll or a saving throw before the spell ends, the target can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the attack roll or saving throw.
She gave them each a smile, and the paladin went to her position. That's when Misha heard someone calling out, and breasts emerging. She threw her head back and laughed mightily, and took her hand and blew Sherri a kiss, promising herself later to thank her personally for the inspiration. "Not bad, if admit!" she told herself.
Misha looked at the wooden hammer she picked up from the armory and tossed it aside after hearing the first part of the test was a ranged test. "Won't need dat." she mumbled, and picked up three javelins.
"Ha." she snorted, almost laughing "Nice toothpick."
She got serious for a moment, felt the weight of the javelin in her hand, and looked at the target. She tried to remember her training, but not a lot of it involved thrown weapons. After all, her creation and programming involved the use of Acheronian Warhammers. She aimed. With a mighty heft and a grunt, she threw the first one.
TOSS: 18
BLESSED: 3
TITSPO: 5
It thunked into the target. She picked up the second javelin, aimed, and threw, hard.
CHUCK: 16
BLESSED: 3
TITSPO: 3
Another hit. One more. She picked it up, aimed, and threw it with all the arm strength she could muster.
HEAVE: 20
BLESSED: 2
TITSPO: 2
She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, thanking her Lord General, and Sherri.
Dornos takes to the training ground. “I appreciate the blessing; may thy god grant us victory today as well as tomorrow,” he says to Misha.
Taking his positions, Dornos smiles as he imagines throngs of spectators. He extends his hands and draws a pretend bow, as if miming the action. Then, his eyes flash darkly, and from nothing, a coral-accented bow materializes in his hands, complete with non-lethal arrows.
Dornos is confident. “Hands, obey thy master.” He aims and fires, one, two, three targets in quick succession during the first qualifying exercise, doing his best to avoid getting hit in the process.
21
12
16
DM - Storm King's Thunder PbP | Yet Another Storm King's Thunder PbP
Current: Eogard Duramastar, Human Twilight Cleric/Star Druid | Eiren Lathrana, Shadar-Kai Eldritch Knight/Bladesinger | Arugula, Rabbitfolk Armorer
Survivor: CrispyDM's Saltmarsh as Syltra | SarcasticFury's Strahd as Hadrian Frozenspark | Forge of Fury as The DM
(Adding various blessings:)
Attack 1: Bless= 4, Titspiration= 5
Attack 2: Bless= 1, Titspiration= 4
(Attack 3 already hit)
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
[ooc: you can only use inspiration on one attack each so I'll just apply it to the first one each of you mentioned]
Even with Aphos missing one of the targets, the three of you manage to beat out the competition, expertly dispatching the targets in quick order. The other combatants are grateful since it means less push ups for them, but then they take their turns and it is a miserable sight. Musharib can be heard jeering in the background and the Fleia admonishes them harshly as they repeatedly fail to hit targets, and as some of the targets are struck the prospective combatants groan and complain as they have to do hundreds of push ups while they wait. Eventually Fleia just shakes her head and shouts for the next group until everyone has had an opportunity.
"Right, now the wrestling matches begin. Everyone strip to their skivvies, I won't have anyone complaining that their eye was poked out by a stray spiked pauldron or anything of the sort."
[ooc : remember if you describe how you are wrestling your opponent I might give you advantage! For now just write your post and give me two athletics rolls each please.]
~♡~
Misha presses a latch and her armor neatly folds in on itself again, and puts it aside carefully. Underneath was a tight black form fitting bra with large shoulder straps that barely covered her upper body, leaving her entire stomach exposed - and black tight shorts that were way too high. She took a moment to stretch and prepare for the wrestling match that was about to happen. Every move she took made her lean, tight, defined muscles pop and dance, and within a few moments she was prepared. She tied her hair in a ponytail and clapped her hands once. Let's do this. She gave Meera and Sherri a quick smile and wave, and turned back to the ring to focus.
"Just like bek home when child, ya, Misha?" she told herself.
She approached her opponent and bowed her head. "Challenger, I am Misha." she made an attempt to lock hands in respect. "May honor and glory be with us, this day!" she smiled and went back to her starting position. She raised her hands and crouched, muscles coiled and ready to strike. When the signal was given, she sprang.
Athletics: 14
Just like back home, the boys and girls always loved to wrestle on Acheron, especially during her training. She lunged and grabbed her opponents shoulders and prepared for a typical move she liked to pull. Misha was not the size of a barbarian, but very strong, and used her maneuvers and tactics to her advantage. Anyone watching her at that moment would gain a perfect lesson in muscular anatomy as she flexed and strained against her opponent, be he was too slow. She swung her right leg behind his, found an opportunity to bring her arm away from his tight grip around her wrist, and Misha slammed her arm against his neck from the front, using her power and momentum to push him down from behind her leg, in a sweep. Her opponent crashed to the ground and still holding on, she used the inertia and fell on him, pinning him down, pressing on his neck and holding his arm out in an unusual position.
Advantage roll: 24
Misha's opponent, a lean looking hairless human man, looks surprised as Misha charges at him. As she dives at him he reels backwards and as she rolls him into a pinned position on the floor, he goes limp and somehow the force of her inertia carries him over her and he ends up atop her pinning her to the ground.
He looks as surprised as she does, his chest pressing down on hers. A smile starts to dawn on his face as he realizes he might be winning, when Misha kips up forcing the man to roll backwards. As he struggles to a standing position, Misha lunges toward him in a flying scissor kick that takes him to the ground and knocks the wind out of him.
The man looks dazed and confused an struggles for a second before he passes out entirely.
"Hmm... impressive" Fleia looks Misha up and down.
18
Misha's advantage roll: 11~♡~
Aphos and his opponent step to the center of the ring, all of the other prospective combatants gathered around in a large circle, watching and cheering as Misha emerges victorious. A hulking she-orc stands across from Aphos, glaring up at him, flexing her rippling muscles. Her small bare breasts bounce stiffly as she beats her chest and lets out a mighty roar, charging toward him just before Fleia says, "Commence!"
orc initiative : 10
~♡~
Aphos strips his armor in as many piecemeal bits as it seemed to be held together with. After the mound grew as high as the bull's knee, Aphos was finally ready. Stepping into the ring, the minotaur threw his weight against the orc, dropping his head low to wrap and sweep the opponent's legs.
(Strength checks: 22 or 16)
His horns slammed the woman's waist and buckled her form. Aphos' mighty arms locked onto her knees and threatened to lift her from the ground entirely if she didn't fall over first. With a knee to the ground, he bull pushed his shoulders up, attempting to hurl the woman across the ring.
(If the enemy saves vs. Grappled, need a DC 13 STR save or be pushed 10')
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
In a true contest of strength, Aphos and the orc slam into each other, hand in hand pressing with all of their might. The orc shoots for Aphos's knee and Aphos spreads his legs apart and grabs the orc woman from above, lifting her heavy body with ease. She coils herself around one of Aphos's immense arms and pulls it into a bar, causing Aphos to grunt with discomfort, but he shakes her off and tackles her to the ground pinning her.
Fleia cackles with glee, "Now that was an entertaining match! See that the rest of you follow their example!"
orc athletics : 6
~♡~
Dornos the triton and a disheveled looking older dwarf who can be smelled from across the ring of prospective gladiators enter the circle. This dwarf is ruddy cheeked and has a dark scraggly beard, and does not appear to be related in any way to Musharib's kin. Dornos suspects he's a traveler from Faerun. The dwarf has a crazed look in his eyes an looks everywhere but at Dornos.
dwarf initiative : 19
~♡~
Misha pats the cheek happily of her unconscious opponent as he passes out from under her, and say, "You wrestled bravely, my friend, and have fought against a worthy opponent. You have won much glory and honor - even in defeat. Thus is the will of Bane."
She gets up easily, dusts herself off, and steps off to the sidelines, but not without waving to Meera first, and blowing Sherri a kiss.