Gladiators of Zirnakaynin PbP (Inactive)

Game Master Feral

The PCs are slave gladiators in the famed Drow city, fighting to survive and win glory (and perhaps, eventually, freedom) in the arena, whilst becoming embroiled in the intrigues of their drow masters between bouts. Skewed a lot towards the 'Spartacus: Blood and Sand' TV show style and pseudo-Roman gladiator styles.


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The Exchange

‘You are the dead. You are the damned.’

Those were the first words you heard Loscivia, the Mistress of the House, say as you all clustered into the training yard of the drow lady’s ludus, flanked by guards, gazing up as she uttered her welcoming speech from the gallery circling the forty foot square yard fifteen or so feet up. A striking woman, not yet in her middle years, with the dark grey skin, solid white eyes, and white hair common to many of her species, Loscivia’s fine silken clothes and ornate jewellery did little to hide the martial grace with which her lithe body moved, the confident tone to her voice as she repeated the speech in both the common trade tongue of the darklands, and the Taldane more often used in the sunlit lands of the surface world, or the ease at which the well-worn whip hung coiled at her shapely hip.

‘By drow law,’ she’d continued, leaning forwards against the railing of the gallery as she seemed to peer down into your very soul, ‘your lives are forfeit. By rights you should be cast to the vats of the fleshcrafters, or offered as subjects to the torture artists... or sacrifices to the great Lords of Abyss...’ she paused then, you recall, letting the full impact of her words sink in, before a smile – more predatory than warming – teased at the corners of her mouth and she continued, ‘... but it is your great fortune to have come to my attention. Here,’ she stood up straight then, spreading her arms as if to encompass the training yard, the chambers carved into the rock on all four sides, the villa which surrounded it above... and everything and everyone within, ‘in my humble ludus I train the greatest gladiators the city... and therefore the world... has ever seen,’ she leant forwards on the railing again as she pressed on, an impassioned tone entering her voice, ‘train hard, fight hard, capture the imagination of the mob, and glory, riches, and yes... even freedom... may one day be yours!’

She’d then stood straight once more, and nodded to one of the guards. From one of the side chambers a prisoner – a filthy, hairy, but muscle-bound human male – had been dragged, to be thrown to the sand before you, and below Loscivia. With casual ease the drow lady had vaulted the railing and (with an uttered arcane word) drifted, feather-light, down to the sands, her silken clothes twisting and shifting as they reformed into artistically sculpted breastplate armour as she did so. She’d not broken pace as she strode over to the muscular human, even as he struggled to his feet to tower a good six inches over the female drow.

‘This slave,’ she indicated the man without acknowledging him as she addressed her comments to you and your fellow recruits, ‘has committed the greatest sin there is in this house. This man has failed to earn me any money. Failing to earn me any money does not, as you may imagine, please me.’

You recall that as Loscivia spoke the human slave’s expression had turned from panic to rage and he’d stepped behind your new drow Mistress, raising his arms to strike a blow... the guards hadn’t even flinched, and with good reason: with a word and a gesture Loscivia had turned ever so slightly and slapped a contemptuous backhand across the man’s chest – the force of the seemingly light blow had sent him flying through the air to impact, with a sickening bone-crunching noise and a splatter of blood and gore, across the stone wall of the training yard. As the man’s corpse had slumped to the sands which darkened with his blood Loscivia had glanced towards the recruits once more, as she’d added quietly,

‘It is wise to make sure that I remain pleased with you...’

***

That had been, near as you can tell, a month or more past. Since then your life has become an ever repeating cycle of exercise and training, toiling under the cat-o-nine-tails of Loscivia’s adult son Pharnox (a rather weathered and world-weary muscular drow man, invariably clad in darkleaf lamellar armour with a darkwood shield slung on his back and an ornate longsword at his hip, tasked to organise the house guards and gladiators alike) lessons beaten into to you by the more experienced gladiator stock. On too rare occasions you’d be locked into a single cage with the other recruits to try to catch a few hours of precious sleep, and when fed tasteless gruel infested with bugs (and worse if the jeering senior gladiators happened to get to it first...) you soon learned to gulp it down gratefully, for want of any else. Bathing soon became a thing of memory...

One by one other recruits fell by the wayside – killed in training (even wooden practice swords proving to be lethal in determined hands) or falling below the standards Pharnox deemed acceptable and being sold off to one of those gruesome fates Loscivia had outlined on your arrival... but you remained, you endured, your skills slowly grew until more often than not it would be a senior gladiator sprawled in the sand at your feet during training, rather than the other way round. Finally, just yesterday, the few of you who remained had been given a hearty meal of bread and cheese and meat and allowed a full night’s sleep (as far as one can tell night from day in the caverns of the darklands). This morning you were allowed to wash and bathe in the communal pool used by the senior gladiators and, when you arrived at the training yard, instead of the usual padding and blunted wooden weapons, you were issued real gladiator arms and armour. As usual there’s a half-dozen commoner drow guards clad in scale armour and armed with tower shields, short swords, and saps (the latter of which they’ve shown absolutely no reluctance to use over the past few weeks) in the yard itself, and another half dozen armed with hand crossbows (the bolts no doubt laced with drow poison) patrolling the gallery above. Across the yard several of the senior gladiators – all of them the worst bullies and abusers of the lot over the past weeks – stand equipped much as yourselves: ready for real contest.

Up on the gallery Loscivia is present, dressed in a fetching silken gown and adorned with jewellery, much as the dozen or so wealthy-looking drow guests that have joined her. It’s Loscivia’s gorgeous daughter, Ilvaria, who seems to be doing the bulk of the socialising however – her own silk gown cut with dangerously low cleavage and dangerously high slits up either side, and seemingly lacking any back at all. You’ve noticed Ilvaria before, of course (she’s hard to miss...), as she often spends time lounging on the balcony as she lazily observes the training sessions below, her ever-present fly-whisk in her hand, and her favourite pretty halfling slavegirl serving her goblets of wine and bowls of candied treats. From what you’ve observed where Pharnox stresses form and skill and competence, Ilvaria doesn’t seem to care what the gladiators do... as long as they look good doing it...

Speaking of Pharnox, he emerges from one of the side chambers and casts a nervous glance towards the gathering on the balcony as he strides across the sands towards your small group. Reaching you he leans close and speaks in a hushed whisper,

‘This is your one chance to show whether you’re gladiators... or meat. Try not to embarrass me, try to win and, by the Abyss, if you have to get yourselves killed at least try to make your deaths entertaining, alright?’ He glances towards where Loscivia stands on the gallery again, then looks back to you, ‘If you drop an opponent and they’re not dead don’t finish them off straight away – look to Mother for a decision... and if she wants them dead, then make it look good.’ He nods over his shoulder to where your opponents stand, then offers, ‘To be honest that lot are barbaric scum – we’d be well rid of them. It’s my belief that you few have the potential to take this House much further in the games than all the rest combined. If you work together, cover each other’s weaknesses and play to each other’s strengths then you should make it...’ he trails off as he glances back towards the gallery one more time, then sneers, shrugs and concludes, ‘... but what do I know? I’m only a son.’

Well, that’s the introduction. When your character’s been cleared to play fee free to post: it’s always best to start with a description, I think. You’ve a little time before the match begins (well, until all the players are ready anyway) so your characters can talk to each other (and Pharnox, as he’s still standing there) while you’re waiting.

Sczarni

Male Halfling Summoner 1 | AC: 15/12/14 | HP: 10/10 | F +1, R +1, W +4 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs mind-affecting from good outsiders) | CMB -3, CMD 8 | Init +1 | Perc +2

"Finally!" he said, leaning on his carved rudiarius like a cane and twirling his new kukri. "Feels good to hold a real weapon again. I was beginning to wonder if I'd only dreamed owning a metal blade." Standing barely three feet tall and slender of build, most of the other gladiators could probably lift Radric with little effort. Having spent most of his life surrounded by trained fighters of larger races, he'd gotten somewhat used to this-- though he had to admit the sheer bulk of some of these was new to him, and a bit intimidating. He had chosen for himself armor made of various pieces of leather, inlaid with bits of bone and scrap metal. It covered most of him, but not as much as he'd have liked. If there was one thing he'd learned at the temple of Sarenrae, it was that the best way to survive a battle was don't get hit. He was surprised at how many gladiators went with little armor or none at all.

He felt the tip of his kukri with his finger. "Sharp, too." He poked at Segovax's thigh (about arm's level for the little halfling) experimentally.


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Lorelei nods in acknowledgement at the appropriate places during Pharnox's speech. When he is done, she begins checking her "combat" outfit, making sure that the strategically placed imitation spiderwebs are actually covering her adequately. Soon she gives up and decides that apparently covering her adequately was not the intention of whoever designed it.

A slender and pretty drow female, with long silver blond hair, Lorelei looks over her fellow gladiators. I wonder how many of them will survive this match?


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Nathrae paces about, tapping her gladius against her shapely, muscled thigh. Her shoulder-length white hair slides off her manica, narrowly avoiding getting caught in its leathered ridges.

"E 'giunto il momento. Stavo per addormentarmi." She mutters to herself, stretching. In contrast to the drow female clad in what seemed to be nothing but spiderwebs, Nathrae is garbed like an actual gladiatrix--manica, balteus, greaves, sandals, loincloth & breast band, all white like her hair and eyes. She leans on her heavy steel shield, looking the rest of the gladiators over.

Undercommon:
"It's about time. I was about to fall asleep."

She clicks her tongue. The spiderwebbed female seemed very much out of place here--too small, not much muscle, and trying in vain to cover herself adequately. It causes her a pang of worry, but she chuckles and shakes it off. It's not like SHE wasn't a scrawny weakling before the training--indeed, her own muscular, oiled body was a far cry from the twig of a female she was before--but there should have been some appreciable difference in the webbed one's physique after a month of combat practice.

How's she going to hold up in the match? Nathrae thinks as she approaches her, trying to ignore the halfling rudiarius trying to provoke the giant of a half-orc with his kukri. "Eccitato?" She asks with a smile.

Undercommon:
"Excited?"


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Undercommon:
"Both excited and extremely nervous. Not nervous about the match itself of course, just nervous about whether or not our performance out there will please Loscivia. What few spells I know so far aren't exactly big and showy yet. I don't know if that can compete with someone who can splatter brains across half the stadium and some of the audience."


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Nathrae chuckles. Stage fright: not worried about surviving, but more concerned with putting on a good show.

"A volte, il più elegante di uccisioni non hanno bisogno di essere il più sanguinoso." She shrugs. "Tuttavia si spedire il vostro avversario, tutto ciò che conta è che si guarda bene farlo." Nathrae would know--even with her cumbersome sword & shield style, her acrobatic flips and jumps during training frequently drew admiring looks from some of the other trainees.

"Comunque, che magie sai?" Nathrae leans back, resting her gladius across her shoulders.

Undercommon:
"Sometimes, the most stylish kills do not need to be the bloodiest. However you dispatch your opponent, all that matters is that you look good doing so."

"Anyway, what spells do you know?"

Using Italian for Undercommon.


The half-orc growls at the halfling's prodding. "I hope you're as good with that little knife as you showed in practice."

Segovax is a towering figure who visibly takes after his father, possessing a massive muscular frame, honed to iron from a lifetime of physical struggle where raw muscle and endurance were the only thing between life and meaningless death. His wild dark hair is cropped short and his green-grayish skin is riddled with scars, some of which are from injuries while others were ritualistically self-inflicted. A few dark tattoos decorate his flesh alongside the scars, the most prominent being the horns of Baphomet scribed across his left pectoral. He wears almost nothing, clad in only a loincloth held in place by his balteus, putting his hulking well-oiled physique and litany of scars on full display.

He glances at the other gladiators, his eyes lingering on the female dark elf's forms briefly. He'd seen plenty of them over the past month but some sights never got old. Growling again in anticipation, he clutches the grip of the long curved blade in his meaty hand tightly, holding it in a suggestive stance.


Somehow managing to give the impression that he was lounging while standing upright, Kyzrak was as disgustingly cheerful as he had been throughout their training. All lithe, oiled muscle black as sin and clad in a loincloth, balteus and manica as blood-red as his eyes, he had no scars of note on his flesh but one: the brand of a slave of the House. While no longer as raw as it had been when he had joined them, the pale flesh against the dark was a reminder to them all of their new status.

Tying his white hair back in preparation for their upcoming match, his attention, like Segovax's, was on the women among them. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he murmured with a grin, just loud enough to be heard. He whirled his twin gladii in the air for a moment, before sheathing them with a flourish - with an eye to the balcony, in case anyone there seemed interested... such as Ilvaria.

When no spontaneous applause greeted him, he sighed and turned to gaze over the sands at their opponents. "If we at least get to kill most of them, I'll be satisfied with the day," he opined, stretching. "Surely she'll let us kill the rest later."

The Exchange

Casting your eyes over your opponents for the upcoming match, you think back to what you've learnt of them over the past few weeks...

Dron: a tall, muscular, human of Kellid stock, with steel grey eyes, tanned and scarred skin, and short dark hair, who fights primarily with a longspear in the style of hoplomachus. A brute of the first order, Dron tends to charge in and try to overwhelm his opponents with sheer physical power. Dron is a bully of the first order, mainly picking on those who lack his physical strength (and steering clear of those who can match or exceed it).

Ragnar: an Ulfen warrior complete with braided long blond hair and beard, who fights as a murmillo. Tough as they come, and an expert with his tower shield, Ragnar relies on outlasting his foes. Outside of combat he’s quiet and brooding – he leaves you alone if you leave him alone.

Xabala: a lithe dark-skinned Mwangi warrior woman trained as a retiarius Xabala is nimble and acrobatic in combat, clad in only light leather manica and greaves (besides the standard balteus and breast band). She’s been mercilessly spiteful and mocking of the recruits since they arrived.

Narsius and Vors: a pair of bronzed Taldan men with long brown hair who tend to stick together (not least because they’re also lovers). Narsius fights as a scizore and Vors as a thraex, the former tending to be more defensive, and the latter more aggressive in combat. These two are second only to Dron when it comes to tormenting the new recruits.

Chao: a petite Tian woman less than five feet tall, with rather attractive black eyes and long, flowing, black hair. She fights with cestus and almost dance-like Tian martial arts, clad in light leather manica and greaves. She always presents herself as polite to a fault, but the recruits quickly learnt that she has a tendency to then turn round and stab you in the back...

Aspexia: a shapely pale-skinned Chelish woman with dark eyes and long dark red hair, Aspexia fights as a rudiarius, and has demonstrated the ability to conjure sheets of flame from her hands during practice. She’s the most lightly armoured of the opposing gladiators, wearing just a balteus for protection. She’s also been the kindest to the recruits, offering to tend their wounds and aches with means both magical and mundane over the course of their training. On the other hand, she's from Cheliax...

Zova: a tall and athletic Shoanti woman, with tanned and tattooed skin and her head shaved bald. Zova fights with a gladius in either hand in the style of diamachaerus and is a fast and aggressive opponent. Of the opposing gladiatrix she’s the most heavily armoured, wearing the metal greaves, manica, and enclosed helm that the men tend to favour. She’s also made an effort to match the men for the level of physical abuse she’s heaped upon the recruits in the past few weeks...

As if to punctuate your musing, Pharnox nods towards the opposing gladiators across the yard (as the more vocal amongst them jeer and gesticulate their not-so-positive opinions of the recruits),

'You've seen them in practice, you know how they fight... if you're inclined to approach this fight tactically, now's the time to discuss it.'


Segovax snorts and gestures towards the opposing combatants.

"I mean to prove myself the strongest by crushing Dron. He has a coward's heart and I will prove it. If he thinks his spear will protect him, he hasn't seen mine yet", he mocks with a savage grin.


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Just realized that I cannot talk to everyone in the group. Going to rearrange a point or something so I can get common.


Kyzrak didn't miss the mention of Dron, and Segovax's tone. "Taking down Dron might demoralize the others," he suggested to his fellow recruits in Undercommon. "If we focus on a few of them at a time, we should be able to cut them down without undue fuss. We've just got to watch our flanks." He eyed Zova; taking her out as well, along with Xabala, would make this a fine day indeed.

Magic may serve us well, if they have anything good... Nathrae seems able to handle herself, but Lorelei may need a hand. And a friend in need... Kyzrak turned to the drow women. "If you want to live, don't get cornered," he advised Lorelei. "I'll do what I can to keep them off your back." At least, until your magic runs out. He kept that thought to himself, but by their very natures, it must have occurred to the drow.

He glanced at Nathrae, then at Segovax and Radric. "It'd help if we could coordinate. Can anyone speak with the uplanders?"


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Lorelei nods affirmatively, though she seems a bit embarrassed to admit it. "I can speak the common language of the surface dwellers."

The Exchange

No maps (no time!), but if it helps with the planning the yard is 40ft square, and the sand covered floor is generally nice, flat, 'normal' terrain. Towards the 'left' of the yard (as the PCs face it) there's a line of four pali (a palus being a vaguely man-shaped wooden stake used as a training target / dummy) stretching between 'your' side and 'their' side which would count as obstacles to move past (although easy enough to move around - but they could hamper a charge), and provide partial cover (or normal cover to the halflings). Across 'their' side and towards the right there's a pit (used for general refuse and, on occassion, as a latrine... and also as a place to punish disobedient slaves for an hour or two...) about 6 or 7 feet across that's covered with a metal grate that counts as difficult terrain to cross.


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Nathrae eyes the refuse pit with the grate over it, smirking.

She turns to the male drow. "A sensible plan." She says in Undercommon. "I have a couple of spells that can be of use to us in this fight. Xabala will likely try to catch the weakest of us in her net..." She eyes the halflings before glancing at Lorelei.

"So, focus on Dron first? Then who? Aspexia would be my next target... but I'd rather not kill her. Call it a courtesy, if you will."


M Dwarf Drillmaster of the Order, Rough, gruff and blunt. He is a harsh and boisterous dwarf and expects much from new recruits. Often earning their ire for a time.

blah blah, longwinded threat speech blah blah, BAH, just tell us te fight an' be done with it ye bloody witch elf.
Ivan casts a glance at his would be teammates.

3 drow? Who the stone needs enemies with friends like these... I'll have to watch me back, surin they'll be thinking a knife in o back of me would be good fun. And almost as bad, a bloody orc. I just hope the halflin be sensible still.

Ivan merely twirls his gaint warhammer while leaning on his shield, showing little encumbrance from the metal cladding his short thick frame.
Paying no heed to the drow's conversation Ivan speaks to none and all at the same time.
Undercommon In thick dwarvish accent
ye want blood? Ye"ll get plently o blood. Might be ye be hearing a few bones crunch from me hammer.

Sczarni

Male Halfling Summoner 1 | AC: 15/12/14 | HP: 10/10 | F +1, R +1, W +4 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs mind-affecting from good outsiders) | CMB -3, CMD 8 | Init +1 | Perc +2

He laughed. "Time will tell, I suppose. But I've been lucky so far." He looked over the other fighters, then spoke up to the group in the drow tongue. He'd never been particularly apt at languages, but down here he'd had to learn it quickly. "I think I'll take Chao. She seems most like my own style; should make for a good show." It'll be a shame to have to kill her, though, he thought to himself.


Annoyed that the halfling had joined the others in the Undercommon chatter, Segovax turns that energy toward his opponents. He flourishes his large blade in hand as Pharnox had showed them as a salute to the crowd. The gesture is almost effortless for the hulking greenskin but it serves to get the huge slabs of muscle in his torso flexing and jumping beneath his scarred hide.

Aiming to unnerve the competition or maybe get the attention of Lovcinia.


M Dwarf Drillmaster of the Order, Rough, gruff and blunt. He is a harsh and boisterous dwarf and expects much from new recruits. Often earning their ire for a time.

in common.

Oy, halfing, what says ye to working together. I be thinking our chances are better ifin' we watch each others backs. I keep em distracted, do some face smashin'

As if to make a point the hammer he was twirling smashes down into the ground, leaving quite the crack in the rough rock.

an' you come in from behind ifin' anything be left eh?

before the halfing responds Ivan bellows

Ifin' any o Ye durned blokes be thinkin' ye can take Ivan Rockboulder, well Dangit I be DARIN' YE to try!

He beats his warhammer twice on his shield


Male Halfling Transmuter 3

Hull checks to make sure that all of his equipment is in place. Father always said that carelessness kills more gladiators than blades do.. He makes sure his balteus fits snugly around his waist and that the pouch for his armadillo familiar is secure. Gotta be careful, wouldn't want Rich falling out of there; he's not ready to go out on his own.. After tucking his dagger into his balteus, he motions towards the pali. "I'm going to head over there when I can. If you guys can keep them off me, I can make things go 'boom'...or at least 'hiss.' But, first, I'll probably make somebody a little larger than life." Hull smiles broadly.


Looks like we're just missing our witch. =P

Sczarni

Male Halfling Summoner 1 | AC: 15/12/14 | HP: 10/10 | F +1, R +1, W +4 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs mind-affecting from good outsiders) | CMB -3, CMD 8 | Init +1 | Perc +2

"I think someone should stay close to Aspexia from the start," he said in the common tongue, lowering his voice. "And any other spellcasters. Makes using magic pretty hard. I should know." One of the first lessons they had learned at the temple was the back-and-forth dance any combat spellcaster must perform, staying close to their opponent to disrupt enemy spells then stepping back to use their own. The Chelish woman was the only one of their opponents who was known to use magic, but of course any of them could be hiding abilities. Sounds like the big half-orc's already picked his, he won't want to stay on that girl. The dwarf might. He turned to Hull. "And if they do the same thing, you and Naked there should be our top priorities." He pointedly looked Lorelei up and down (not for the first time since he'd started training), hoping eventually she'd catch him doing so.


Male Halfling Transmuter 3

"Sounds like a plan."


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Is it okay for Lorelei to go ahead and cast mage armor on herself before the fight begins?

Speaking undercommon, Lorelei answers Nathrae's earlier question about her spells. "I have a spell to toss sticky, acidic balls of protoplasm. They don't do much damage, but can stick someone in place for a moment."

While talking, Lorelei notices one of the small males looking her up and down and deigns to speak in common to him. "My name is Lorelei, not Naked."

The Exchange

Quote:
As if to make a point the hammer he was twirling smashes down into the ground, leaving quite the crack in the rough rock.

Pharnox looks at the damaged ground and lets slip a rather weary sounding sigh as he mutters under his breath,

'That'll never buff out...'

Meanwhile Segovax's flourish towards the more seasoned gladiators draws renewed shouts and insults from them... particularly the Shoanti woman, Zova, whose barbarous tongue is hard to decypher... but whose pantomimes seem to predict some sort of painful interaction between her twin blades and the oversized halforc's loincloth region... Dron, on the other hand, appears to react by avoiding Segovax's gaze and instead pushing the Tian woman, Chao, about for a bit... The retiarius, Xabala, appears to be sizing Ivan up (especially after his bellowed 'invitation'), whilst the two Taldans keep laughing amongst themselves and gesturing towards Hull...

Noticing the Taldan pair's interest, Pharnox glances down at Hull's 'pet',

'You may want to leave that thing in your cell for the fight,' he suggests, adding by way of explaination, 'I overheard Narsius and Vors discussing armadillo based recipes the other day...'

'Honoured guests,' Loscivia's commanding voice quickly silences the jeers of the gladiators and the conversations of the visiting drow both, as all turn to face the Mistress of the House, 'I thank you all for gracing us with your most noble presence as the House of Loscivia humbly presents its latest offerings. Of the score or more recruits who began training, we've spared no expence in culling the herd to bring you these final eight... eight who will, before your very eyes, either take their first steps on the glorious path to immortality as champions of the arena... or prove unworthy and instead offer their lives and souls to you privillaged few on the sands below. Of particular note...'

As Loscivia's speech turns to highlighting aspects of the recruits the observers may be interested in, Pharnox moves a little closer to your group and whispers,

'You should make any final preparations now... she should be winding up soon...'

Wall of Crunch:
You've all got a couple of rounds for spellcasting (on your team, obviously... blasting the other guys before the match starts would certainly be seen as 'bad form'...), readied actions, or whatever. As you may expect, there'll be no 'surprise round' and nobody starts flat-footed on either side.

Aside from any preparations, you can also all roll Initiative and declare your first round actions. Make any relevant rolls, but just post what your character is trying to do, rather than the results of their actions (e.g. 'trying to chop Dron's head off' rather than 'chops Dron's head off') as, clearly, a lot can happen between intent and result! Don't forget to include a 'performance combat check' if you think your actions may result in needing one.

Unless anyone states otherwise, I'll assume the characters will take the first opportunity presented for things like performance combat checks and attacks of opportunity (and that AoO will be a regular attack). I'll also assume a modicom of common sense (such as switching declared targets if your target happens to already be dead...). Any unexpected rolls I'll make on your behalf (to keep things moving). As a general rule, if anyone fails to post before my GM post the next day (in combat) I'll assume by default that their character's declared action is 'full defense' - again, to try to keep things at a reasonable pace.

I think that's probably it... feel free to ask any questions... and have at 'em! :)


Potts, would you mind rolling initiative for everyone so we have a sense of the order in which we'll be acting? That'd help limit the number of contingencies necessary in our posts.


Male Halfling Transmuter 3

Taking Pharnox's warning, Hull opens up his pouch and lets Rich crawl down his leg. "Go back to the cage, buddy," he whispers. He spends the remainder of his preparation time casting enlarge person on Segovax and shield on himself.


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

At Pharonox's warning, Lorelei goes ahead and casts Mage Armor upon herself.


Kyzrak watched Hull's armadillo toddle off with a faint smile that grew larger when Segovax grew to an even more impressive size. Having little preparation to do, he simply shook his arms to limber them up, and drew his gladii.

He eyed Zova from out of the corner of his eyes. We can't afford to lose our hulking great brute. Best watch that one. Hells, they're almost all as slippery as vipers. The last he thought with a bit of admiration.

He didn't miss the shimmer of magic around Lorelei, either (possibly because, like many of the other males, he spent a lot of time staring at her). Maybe she won't need as much help as I thought.

Kyzrak's AC is probably the worst here. Sigh... if not for that Diamachaerus rule about ACP, I'd have given him a heavier manica...


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Nathrae steps a bit closer to the rest of her team and mumbles something.

"Flauros, I beseech you--make our blades as sharp as your razor-edged claws, and I shall gladly use them to shed blood in your name."

The team's swords take on a faint orange, shimmering glow... almost as if they've been pulled from a forge's fire.

Nathrae smirks. Perfect.

Casting bless.


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

And I'd have to agree with Seg: I'd appreciate it if you could roll our initiatives for us, GM. Please?


Segovax grunts in surprise when the halfling’s magics take hold and his already hulking frame swells to literally giant proportions. He beats his chest creating a deep resonant sound before gripping his weapon again with even greater anticipation. He sends a glance the halfing’s direction, with the slightest hint of gratitude written across his crude features.

When the signal is given to begin, the brawny nearly naked orc roars a thundering challenge. ”Fight me Dron! Or is it tradition for humans to hide behind their women?!”

The slabs of well-oiled muscle under his skin go to work as he…

Initative: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Generic Attack Roll (Bless): 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 5 + 1 = 24
Damage (if applicable): 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (1, 6) + 7 = 14
Confirming (if applicable): 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 5 + 1 = 14
Extra Damage (if applicable): 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (3, 1) + 7 = 11

If Segovax is near the top of initiative:
…thunders forward with his eyes set on the cowering kellid at the enemy’s rear. He snorts dismissively at any that would dare to stand in his way but stops at the first enemy arrayed against him. Without a second thought, Segovax brings his falchion to bear in a brutal two-handed chop.

If Segovax is near the middle/bottom of initiative and Dron remains out of reach:
…thunders forward with his eyes set on the cowering kellid at the enemy’s rear. He calls again with rumbling laughter in his voice. ”You shame the spear you’re holding Dron like you shame whatever passes for manhood between your legs. Perhaps the halfling’s knife would serve you better!” He retrieves his whip and cracks it in the air before snapping it the nearest enemy combatant’s weapon and attempting to wrench it away. In which case the roll above would be a CMB roll and +2 higher.

If Segovax is near the middle/bottom of initiative and Dron moves forward to meet him:
…thunders forward with a growl. ”Good! I managed to shame your manhood out of hiding. Let’s see who is truly the strongest in this ludus and spare our domina the other’s weakness." Without waiting for a reply, Segovax brings his falchion to bear in a brutal two-handed chop.

Perform (if applicable): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Add +2 if Option #2 occurred.


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Did you include the bless I gave you?

Anyway... last of pre-match prep!
As Mistress Loscivia's speech begins to come to a close, Nathrae calls upon Flauros' favour yet again... this time, her gladius glows a bright orange colour, and sparks fly from it.

Casting sun metal.
--------------------
Round 1: Actions
Move Action: Move onto the field
Standard Action: Stab the first gladiator that runs out to meet me!

Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Once Seg starts his attack, Nathrae grins. Show time!

She moves across the field, and the first enemy gladiator to get in her way is on the receiving end of a stab from a flaming sword!
Attack (Bless): 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 3 + 1 = 24
Crit Confirm? (Bless): 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 1 = 5
Damage (Sun Metal): 1d6 + 2 + 1d4 ⇒ (6) + 2 + (2) = 10
It's a solid blow!

Swift Action: Performance Combat Check!

Performance Combat (Max Damage): 1d20 + 6 - 4 ⇒ (17) + 6 - 4 = 19


initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

With a pause to see who went where, Kyzrak strutted over the sand off to one side, intending to flank one of their opponents (hopefully Dron or Xabala) even as he kept an eye on the recruits' spellcasters, to ensure they didn't fall too quickly - and on their enemies, to avoid becoming flanked himself.

gladius attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16 +2 if flanking succeeded
damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Once in position, he lashed out, intending to blood his opponent, and offering a wicked grin by way of greeting.

Not sure if a performance check is ok here?

Sczarni

Male Halfling Summoner 1 | AC: 15/12/14 | HP: 10/10 | F +1, R +1, W +4 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs mind-affecting from good outsiders) | CMB -3, CMD 8 | Init +1 | Perc +2

He closes his eyes for a moment to calm himself and awaken his senses. He listens to his muscles, tensing them, then relaxing them. He opens his eyes and exhales, his body now in sync with his mind. He twirls, reversing his grip on his kukri, and points at Chao with his rudiarius. "Let's dance!"

Battle dance started.

Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

He moves to close with his partner in this deadly dance of theirs. He knows his small knife does little on its own, but even small cuts can add up.

Round 1 actions: Close in melee with Chao (unless someone else reaches him first) and swing.

Kukri attack: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 5 + 1 = 23

Damage: 1d3 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3


M Dwarf Drillmaster of the Order, Rough, gruff and blunt. He is a harsh and boisterous dwarf and expects much from new recruits. Often earning their ire for a time.

initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Ivan takes up a stance from his homeland and slowly advances towards the group of enemies. His hammer, appearing unprepared is actually ready to swing at the first enemy that comes near him.

He is reading an attack action on the first enemy to come to him

hammertime: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
damage if applicable: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6


Male Halfling Transmuter 3

Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Round 1:
As soon as he can after the signal to begin, Hull picks out a target who's not engaged in melee yet (but looks tough for his teammates to hit), points his rudem, and a bolt of acid leaps towards the chosen target.
Basically, I'm aiming for the most heavily armored, least mobile opponent who's not engaged.

ranged touch attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18; damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2

Then he moves as close to the line of pali as possible.


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

Lorelei casts a Grease spell underneath the feet of the Shoanti woman. Trying to get anyone else in the area of the spell as well, but Zova is the main target. Reflex DC 14

I hope you fall on your ass, b+**%.

The Exchange

‘... and so,’ Loscivia’s speech concludes, as she gestures towards the gathered gladiators in the practice yard below, ‘we shall now... ‘

Just as the eyes of the jaded drow elite turn towards the gladiators (thanks in part to Pharnox’s prompting on his Mother’s likely timing) Nathrae completes her second spell, and a murmur of approval ripples through the audience as her sword glows red hot then bursts into flame...

It’ll be individual crowd attitudes for this match, as the recruits are being displayed... and assessed... for the first time... and Nathrae sets off well, swaying the audience to a friendly attitude even before the first round has kicked off!

... moments before Hull’s spell causes the already big Segovax to surge to such a height he’s near eye-level with the wealthy observers! One rather buxom drow lady, clad in a shameless outfit that seems to be all leather thongs and chains... and little actual material... gasps out loud, a wide grin forming on her full lips as she exclaims,

Oh my! I do so love the big ones...’

Really, my dear,’ and tall, thin, drow man, more beautiful than handsome, clad in a toga of pink and red silks and sporting a bejewelled gold medallion (depicting an eyeless snake coiled around a staff) casually quips back, ‘tell us something we don’t know...’ The buxom lady pouts and scowls at the rascal, much to the amusement of their peers.

Knowledge (religion) DC 15 (and Forest Jade):
You recognise the man’s attire and the symbol on his medallion as denoting that he’s a devotee, or maybe even a priest, of Socothbenoth, the Silken Sin, demon god of perversion, pride, and (breaking) taboos.

‘...begin!’ declares Loscivia.

Round One

Howling like a demented banshee, the Shoanti, Zova, instantly charges headfirst towards the giant Segovax, seemingly unimpressed or unconcerned about his sudden growth spurt... only to meet a grisly end as a two-handed downward chop from Segovax’s oversized falchion cleaves her clean from the right side of her neck through to her left hip, leaving the two uneven halves of her body to skitter to a halt by the half-orc’s feet, even as blood and gore spray across the sand and Segovax’s sandals both! There’s the odd gasp or cheer from the audience, but mostly a rather polite smattering of gentle applause, accompanied by quietly exchanged observations... it’s enough to make one wonder just how jaded these people really are...

Jaded or not, Segovax quickly turns the audience’s attitude towards him friendly with that impressive opening gambit... and that was just his AoO too!

Clearly not one to rest on his laurels, Segovax strides across the yard to try to bring the loathsome Dron to the same end he gave Zova... but to no avail as (eyes wide with fear beneath his helm) the Kellid hoplomachus manages to turn the massive falchion aside just enough with his spear for the sword’s tip to glance harmlessly off his armoured manica.

With barely a glance towards the clash between Segovax and Dron, the petite Tian woman, Chao, nimbly sprints across the sand, before leaping into the air with a yell as she twists, tucks one leg under her, and tries to land the other foot on her target of choice... the seemingly vulnerable Lorelei... only for the flying kick to glance ineffectively off the invisible aura now protecting the drow sorceress. Chao lands well, pivoting gracefully to face Lorelei... but even the usually implacable Tian woman fails to hide the expression of annoyance on her face...

Seeing Segovax locked in battle with Dron, the Chelish woman, Aspexia, quickly utters a few mystic words and levels her rudem towards the giant: the sigils carved into the wooden rod glow for a moment as a gout of flame issues forth, catching Segovax across his left arm and chest and searing his flesh with a sizzle... Segovax takes 4 points of fire damage... when the massive half-orc fails to fall before the might of her spell, Aspexia offers him a weak grin and an apologetic shrug... before quickly stepping back to place a palus between her and the singed barbarian... Still, the audience seem to appreciate the ostentatious display of magic no matter the result.

As Ivan slowly advances the Mwangi retiarius, Xabala, stalks towards him with pantherish grace, a wide white grin splitting her dark features even as she steps into a spin and hurls her net one-handed... only for the dwarf warrior to easily duck under it, the grace of his own movements belaying his squat frame and seemingly clunky armaments. Xabala’s grin turns to hiss of rage as she brandishes her trident... but keeps her distance (10 feet away from Ivan) for the moment...

... Although keeping her attention on the dwarf proves to be to her detriment as she almost doesn’t notice the handsome Kyzrak strutting across the sands as if he owned the place... and maneuvering behind her as he does so... at the last moment the retiarius catches a flash of raised steel, and spins to try to parry with her trident... but it’s too little, too late, as the tip of the drow male’s sword slices a deep scratch across the glistening ebony skin of her chest, drawing an arc of crimson blood through the air with it and causing the woman to cry out in anger and pain... but not yet fall...

Having recovered from the shock of Chao’s lightning-quick assault, Lorelei counter-attacks in her own fashion, stepping back a pace or two even as she casts a spell... With a sound like oil sloshing from a barrel the ground beneath the Tian woman’s feet is suddenly awash with grease – far too much for the thin layer of sand on the yard’s rock floor to hope to absorb. With an expression of surprise the normally so graceful Chao clownishly cartwheels her arms, even as her petite feet scrabble (and fail) to find purchase. A moment later she keels over backwards to land in a less-than-dignified fashion, the conjured grease covering her as she tries in vain again and again to regain her footing. For their part, the watching drow elite seem to find the whole scene wonderfully amusing as mocking laughter fills the air (and darkens the expression Chao casts venomously towards Lorelei...).

I rolled a performance combat check for Lorelei (for knocking an opponent prone): she now joins those who count the crowd as friendly.

Meanwhile Ragnar, the Ulfen murmillo, grunts matter-of-factly as he steps under Segovax’s enlarged reach to hack at the giant half-orc’s calf with his gladius... only for the blade to slide harmlessly off the big man’s leather greave.

Moving across the yard, Nathrae joins Ivan and Kyzrak in surrounding Xabala. Hissing and spitting like a cornered feline, the retiarius turns this way and that, jabbing her trident to try to fend off her attackers... but to no avail, as Nathrae quenches the flames of her blade by plunging it through the Mwangi woman’s stomach. Eyes wide with disbelief, the suddenly stilled retiarius’s trident drops to the sand from her limp fingers. She sinks to her knees as Nathrae yanks her blade from the cauterised and smoking wound left transfixing her... and the audience yell their approval: the applause more enthused this time, even as Nathrae’s name can be heard being passed from one to the other...

The audience now have a helpful attitude towards Nathrae – clearly their early favourite! Xabala is vanquished and at negative hit points now, but not quite dead... if anyone looks to Loscivia next round, she’ll indicate for them to finish Xabala off... if this is done with a suitably impressive coup-de-grace, they can earn themselves a performance combat check for their troubles...

Moving over to the fallen (and greased-up!) Chao, Radric’s dance-like steps seem to mock the woman’s plight. She sneers at him when she sees him approach (carefully avoiding stepping into the grease himself, of course), then yelps a cry of pain as the halfling’s sharp blade slices an insulting cut across the cheek of her once blemishless face...

Finally seeming to get a hold of himself, Dron leaves Segovax to his Ulfen associate, carefully circling around the giant half-orc before spotting Radric’s turned back and heading over towards him and Lorelei (a halfling and a near-naked woman apparently being much more Dron’s targets of choice...). As he jogs across the sand the hoplomachus makes sure to steer clear of any other opponents – but he fails to account for the patience of dwarves, and as he skirts near, Ivan takes a couple of steps to swing his hammer at Dron with an almost contemptuous uppercut... perhaps a little too contemptuous as, although startled, the hoplomachus catches the blow on his buckler. Laughing, the Kellid keeps moving... and Ivan’s second blow makes full use of the opportunity, clipping Dron on the back of his shoulder with a rather sickening sounding crunch... Dron bellows in pain, but keeps going, skipping out of immediate range of things as dangerous as a dwarf with a mallet, and instead moving to within spear’s reach of young Radric instead...

Descriptive stepping on Ivan's part, of course, and an AoO rolled by me (with Ivan's unused damage roll when it proved a hit).

Moving as one the Taldans, Narsius and Vors, make their way across the yard towards Hull, taunting him that if they can’t have his pet, they may have to devour the little fellow himself instead! As they approach, Hull ducks behind the cover of a palus and lets fire with a small (but painful) bolt of acid that splashes across the chest and helm of Narsius, the scizore (and more armoured of the pair), causing him to yell out in pain, and his thraex partner Vors to bellow curses of revenge. The audience, of course, love the display... whether for the magical skill involved, or just that it caused so much pain, it’s probably better not to ask... Both men swing wildly at the halfling wizard, but scizore and falcata alike find no more than wood...

Hull too now counts the audience as friendly.

Round one conclusion:
Zova is dead and Xabala is dying.
Narsius and Chao are injured, and Dron is badly injured. Chao’s also prone, greased (and p!$$ed off...).
Lorelei, Radric, Chao, and Dron are clustered together around Lorelei’s conjured grease on the side of the yard the PC’s ‘team’ started at.
Hull is facing off against Narsius and Vors amongst the pali.
Kyzrak, Ivan, and Nathrae are in the middle of the yard, surrounding the fallen Xabala (with Ivan a little closer to the grease crowd now).
Ragnar is bravely squaring off against giant-mode Segovax.
Aspexia is hoping that Segovax doesn’t notice her amongst the pali (on the other side of the yard to Hull and his playmates).
Forest Jade is yet to act.

Round Two...
(you keep initiative from the previous round, of course, but still all post your declared actions and all relevant potential rolls – waiting for earlier initiative guys will just slow everything down)

EDIT: sorry, should have been three free action performance combat checks for Segovax (first blood, confirmed critical, vanquishing a foe)... and the third was made too (the second was missed - I rolled 'em for him), so he's on helpful with the crowd as well!


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Round 2: Actions
Full Round Action: Coup de grace Xabala!

Nathrae's eyes light up as the crowd starts really cheering her on. After glancing at mistress Loscivia, she sees the signal.

Thumbs down.

Don't mind if I do.

A blood-crazed smirk appears on her face as she picks up the fallen Mwangi with her shield hand. Always taunting me. Always saying my shield was good for nothing more than being a serving tray or a bedpan. Who's laughing now?

Then she plunges her gladius into the Mwangi's heart and twists. She laughs. And laughs.

Oh, wait. ME!
Coup de Grace Damage: 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (6, 5) + 4 = 15
She then hoists her body over her head on the point of her sword, letting the crowd admire her work before she roughly throws her to the ground.

Performance Combat Check (If Applicable): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
Dissolves in 1d3 ⇒ 3 rounds with 1 point of damage each round.

Lorelei will throw a sticky ball of protoplasm at whoever moves to threaten her next, figuring it will be either Dron or Chao (if she manages to climb out of the grease).

Protoplasm:

Protoplasm (Sp): At 1st level, you can create a ball of entropic protoplasm and hurl it at targets within 30 feet. This protoplasm acts as a tanglefoot bag that also inflicts 1 point of acid damage per round to a creature entangled by it. The protoplasm dissolves within 1d3 rounds. You may use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.


Disappointed that another drow had offed Xabala before him (and worse, overshadowed him!), Kyzrak looked around and spotted the Taldans advancing on Hull. Sprinting toward them, he took a flying leap at Vors, intending to sever the man's spine from behind and make him stick out a steel tongue.

gladius: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 +2 if flanking with Hull, not sure about that?
damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Man, all this running around is hard on a two-weapon fighter... :P

EDIT: Dangit, I forgot that I don't take the TWF penalty when just attacking with one weapon, and the bless we got earlier... that should be an additional +2 to attack, I think.


The massive orc growls as his skin blisters under the woman's spell. The pain is intense but he doesn't let it distract him from the ulfen murmillo hacking at his calf. Segovax turns and greets the newcomer with a horizontal slash throwing the whole of his body-weight behind it. The attack isn't without technique but it's almost all muscle - all unyielding force - and heedless of the shield obstructing his blow.

"You're keeping me from my prey!"

Rage

Attack Roll (Bless, Helpful Crowd, Rage): 1d20 + 7 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 1 + 1 = 25
Damage (if applicable): 2d6 + 10 ⇒ (4, 4) + 10 = 18

Performance (Helpful Crowd): 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 2 + 1 = 18


Male Halfling Transmuter 3

Hull projects his trained stage whisper: "It is you who shall be cooked, not I." Then he attempts to gain some room with which to work.
I want to take a 5 ft. step out of their reach, but keep them in a 15 ft. cone, if possible.

5 ft. step and both in cone:
Fire erupts from Hull's hands. casting burning hands for damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1 (Reflex DC 15 for 1/2).

5 ft. step, but both not in cone:
Once again, a globule of acid leaps from Hull's fingers towards Narsius. casting acid splash. ranged touch attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11; damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1.

No 5 ft. step possible:
Worried by the fact that he is being ganged up on, Hull swings his rudem at Narsius but is careful to make sure he will be able to ward off any incoming attacks. attack roll, fighting defensively: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4; damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2 With the bonus from fighting defensively, my AC is currently 21.


Female Half-Orc Witch (Scarred Witch Doctor) 1; HP 13/13; AC 11/ T 11/ FF 10; Fort +3, Ref +1, Will +3; CMB +1, CMD 12; Per +1, Init +1; Speed 30 ft;
Enlarged, Mage Armor:
Init + 0; AC 13/TT 13/FF 13; Ref +0; CMB +2, CMD 12

The Forest Jade enters the areana, sand crushed beneath her likewise hulking frame. Her green-hued skin is oiled and perfect, though marred here and there with daubs of olive and darker dun, and ripped by keloid scartissue. What little leather thonging covers her more private areas is dyed a dark green. Bright patches of wispy cheescloth depend here and there from the "outfit" to give the sense of surface leaves on a dappled forest creature. A creature armed with a brutal falchion...

But her head is the breathtaking feature - a helmet with a mask-like visor made to look like an ibex skull, tall horns reaching up, deep holes where Crocus' eyes can only just be made out. Eyes dark with pain.

Cast enlarge person before Combat and enact scarshield

First RoundThe Forest Jade surveys the scene and casts a protective spell.
Cast mage armor.

Round 2 The Forest Jade decides Dron is better horizontal. She emerges from behind the palus, skullmask and eldritch size combining to dwarf the injured Kellid. She swings, without grace, a two-handed swipe.

Large Falchion: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20 [0 BAB, +2 Str, -1 enlarged]
Schocque: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (5, 6) + 3 = 14 [+3 two handed Str]
Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Ouch: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (4, 5) + 3 = 12

+4 to AC (+4 mage armor, -1 enlarge person, +1 scarshield


Female Undine Cleric / 4 || Init: +1 / HP: 23/23 // AC: 14 / FF: 13 / Touch:11 / Saves: F: +4, R: +2, W: +8

Edit: Lorelei certainly wouldn't mind if the acid from her protoplasm also dissolved some of the clothing of whoever it hits.


M Dwarf Drillmaster of the Order, Rough, gruff and blunt. He is a harsh and boisterous dwarf and expects much from new recruits. Often earning their ire for a time.

As Ivan's blow lands home but doesn't fell dron he bellows in a dwarvish wsrshout.

oy! Get back here ye blasted coward!

As Ivan notices drons intent he bellows in common.

Oy! Halfing, watch ye back! I'm a comin'!

He then loweres his helmet and attemps bulldozes right into Dron and tries to push him away from the halting and possibly knock him down.

In under common he bellows, who wants te see a man brought to he's knees?! as he charges forward.

performance?: 1d20 ⇒ 3

bullrush: 1d20 + 4 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 2 + 2 = 26

oh my god that perform roll is dwarftastic. Also, improved bull rush so no AoO


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Apparently, the crowd doesn't want to see a man brought to his knees. XD

Either that or the crowd doesn't like hearing a dwarf start talking.


M Dwarf Drillmaster of the Order, Rough, gruff and blunt. He is a harsh and boisterous dwarf and expects much from new recruits. Often earning their ire for a time.

in my mind his undercommon is so dwarvish it probably puts them off XD. So I'd wager the later haha.


Spray: 1/1|Demoralize: 1/1|Female Drow Black-Blooded Oracle of Shadows 2|HP: 13/13|AC: 19/13/16|SR: 8|Saves: +0 Fort, +3 Ref, +2 Will (+2 vs. Enchant, -2 vs. Evil)|Init: +3|Perc: +7

Well, if you survive this, you might make an effective heel...

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