Rolg, having recently recovered from his embarrassing alcohol poisoning, enters the arena from the north to find a new foe awaiting him. The dwarf may have lost some crowd cred due to being outdrank by a monkey, but he's still got a fan base, and they hope he can land some hits this time. Nobody knows quite what to think about the strange and withery looking fellow standing across from Rolg, but they're all expecting some violence.
Both other times, the red-maned square-of-a-dwarf has walked in with more than a bit of a swagger, shielding his eyes from the glare of the arena. This time, he shields his eyes alright. His dark-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. It seems the monkey's drinking contest continues to cast a shadow.
Regardless, he stands resolute, lucerne hammer resting on the shoulder of his breastplate, sprig of some unidentified plant hanging in his matted beard. Across his back hangs the massive axe . His fists are armored in spiked gauntlets, and five chakram and two nets hang in easy reach.
Those closest to the arena (who can understand dwarves) can hear him mutter snatches about "damnable demon monkey" and "circus of an arena".
Rix steps into the arena and looks around. His gaze darts in random directions every second or so, while the rest of him twitches every few moments. Gray hair covers most of his face, but strange light can be seen moving under and through his skin regularly.
He wears a suit of Mountain Pattern, and in his hand he holds a wicked looking Morningstar, while a crossbow hangs at his side. Despite the heavy equipment, he seems to have no issues carrying it all, though his movements are agitated with the armor upon him.
He pays little attention to the crowd, but once his sight fixes on Rolg, his cocks his head to the side and drops into a predatory stance. Red light shimmers down his face to his neck before fading out, and he cracks an eerie grin.
Rolg grunts, "Som er en stygg menneske…"
Rix raises his free hand, which moves more spastically than usual, before a flash of light goes off around it. It fades nearly immediately, and Rix steps forward, keeping low to the ground like an animal.
The crowd makes appreciative noises at the light show, though they're not overly enthused yet, with neither party acting particularly excited or dangerous.
Rolg takes a step forward that mirrors his opponents. But where Rix's movements are low and predatory, Rolg's are blunt and straightforward, his long-hafted hammer leveled dangerously at his opponent.
He roars his battle cry, "BRINGE DET, STYGG!"
STANDARD: Ready an action to Rage + attack if he comes in range
Lucerne Hammer
---> Damage
Crit Confirm
---> Total Damage
Rix seems to laugh silently before advancing forward. Once farther into the middle of the arena, he tilts his head up and puts his arms out to the side a bit.
The area around him seems to grow dark and cold, as if the light and heat around him is being stolen. A similar darkness wraps itself around Rolg, growing far colder than anything natural.
"Du har å være fleiper med dette møkk!"
In an instant the dwarf has doubled his size, his hammerhead racing down on Rix like a meteor.
FREE: Rage
STANDARD: Ready an action to Rage + attack if he comes in range
AC 15; CMD 17
HP 30/30
Enlarge + reach should make him threaten up to G.10 or so.
---> Damage
Rolg brings down the enormous hammer with both power and precision, smashing into Rix's chest as he attempts to dodge and crushing several ribs. Rix is barely standing.
I'll be more careful in the future.
Also, Rolg's HP is 29/30.. not full... sigh
Rix reels back from the strike. As he regains his balance, he turns back toward his opponent, still shaking as if with laughter, though making no sound. After a moment, the laughing causes blood to come from his mouth, at which point, he tilts it back, mouth wide, as if roaring in laughter, though still making no noise.
Gripping the morningstar firmly in both hands, green energy begins to consolidate upon his hands, and flows out into the weapon, just as he swings it upward at Rolg.
He swings recklessly however, seemingly too distracted by his own laughter at the battle.
And yes, I'm using Enlarge + a reach weapon.
Raising a hand, Rix begins casting a spell, but seems to lose concentration, causing it to fail. Snickering to himself, he simply advances forward a short distance, heedless of his injuries.
Rolg is about to make a smart remark when a sweeping wave of disorientation washes over him. It's almost as if just moments ago he felt as if he were on the other side of the arena… but that can't be right. He staggers back a step, and his strike at the ugly Rix is thrown wide.
---> Damage
Raising his hand once more, Rix attempts to cast again. This time, he manages to succeed without letting his guard down, and a virulent black and purple light spreads from his hand. A similar effect condenses upon Rolg, binding itself to him with an ominous sense.
As it settles, Rix moves forward.
- Or -
---> damage
AoO Attack: 16; Damage: 21
The crowd cheers wildly as Rolg smashes the ground around Rix, stirring up a good deal of dust. Many of them having seen Rolg in action before, and are impressed that Rix survived the initial blow, but nobody seems to think Rix has much of a shot at defeating the dwarf.
Rolg roars as his opportunity attack misses, his rage compounding at the ugly man's effective use of some kind of ill omen.
"Du tror det vil være lettere på nært hold, Stygg?! Trappe opp, da!!!"
The lucerne hammers returns to its original size as it crashes down into the sand of the arena, and the dwarf grins wickedly as he reaches back to grab the handle of the massive axe peeking over his shoulder. In one smooth but viciously-fast movement, Rolg rips it from its resting place and brings it screaming down on the ugly little man.
Free: Drop lucerne Hammer
Move: Draw Mwk Large Dwarven War Axe
Attack
HP 29/30
AC 14; CMD 17
Rage 5/8 left; Enlarge 3/6 left
---> Damage
Crit Confirm
---> total Damage
The scary looking fellow topples over, blood staining the sand and Rolg's gigantic axe. The dwarven ginger stands triumphant once again, and the crowd shows their appreciation with a lot of shrieking and at least one call of "LET ME TOUCH YOUR BEARD".
As the ugly man's now-lifeless form pumps its vital fluids into the sands, Rolg takes one more moment to roar his victory at it.
Then he looks up at the crowd, letting his battle fury subside… he leaves the huge blade of the axe buried in the ground as he takes a few minutes to posture and pose for the crowd. It's as much comical as it is impressive. After all, a flame-headed square can only be so intimidating.
The requests to touch the beard are lost on the dwarf; all he hears is rounds of gibberish… if gibberish he chooses to believe is praise. After a minute of basking in the victory, he rips the axe from the ground, cleaning the blood on his fallen foe's clothes, then slinging it once again across his back. He grabs his fallen hammer, wipes off the sand, and hefts it once more at the crowd before retreating back into the darkness of his north-side arena entrance.