The fiends are hellishly quick and lucky, dodging everything you throw at them. But eventually fatigue sets in, and an arrow finds its mark, the silver tip piercing the delicate nerve cluster that lies between the neck and shoulder. The devils entire side goes numb and it slumps slightly, only the companion at its back keeping it up.
Okay, here is my plan. I have GI for this round then I become visible, correct?
My plan is to take a shot, then vanish to remain hidden. I have 3 more Ki available to me to use this tactic. Hopefully I will drop him, otherwise I don't have many more trick up my sleeves.
vs AC 21
|
Mwiba grunted at the blow, but no other sound escaped his lips. He had to hope that his head start on the beast would be enough to get him through the fight. He wastes no time moving into his next attack, striking at the demon. The pain had enraged the oread. He put all he had into his next attack. It was slightly more reckless, but he would not hold back.
Metal once again finds your flesh and you wince in agony. The devil snarls as it twists the blade, but that causes it to be stuck in the gouge in your armor. The devil pulls hard, the glaive tearing out. But it pulls too hard, and the weapon flies out of its hand, clattering on the other side of the arena.
|
|
Mwiba was stunned briefly by the pain, he felt the blood ooze out of him, sapping his strength. He knew he had to attack quickly or else he would not survive to sit in the seat of victors. Mwiba finds it deep within him to swing his axe one more time, knowing that the devil had stumbled. He wanted death. Whether it was his or his foe's, death is what he lived for.
He swung with all he had, channeling all the hardships of his parents' passing into a crushing blow.
The silent, stocky oread attacked, a vicious spinning backhand. The blow connected perfectly, severing through the devils head with a solid crack of bone and tendon. The head flew off, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop against the far wall.
The devils body remained upright for a moment longer, before collapsing in a boneless heap.
The stoic juggernaut raised his axe in a salute to his now fellow Hellknights, who returned it with vigor.
Another armiger sits on victors row, and another devil lies dead.
The Vicarius nods and announces the next fighter.
Elijah curses under his breath as the arrow narrowly misses the damned devil. He can feel the light bending around him, and sees the razor sharp teeth of the devil as it sees it prey for the first time in a long time. Elijah shoots, knowing it nay be his last few. He than steps back to make the devil charge him.
Taking a free 5 as need to shoot and not AOO
|
The devil.... falls?! This is his moment-- all the gods are with him, perhaps those gods his family worshiped before Thrune's power spread through Cheliax...
Raising the dagger above his head, Cassius drives it down savagely into the devil's flesh, biting deep.
Decibel shrieks in triumph and decides it's safe enough now to fly down to his master's shoulder. "Told you you could do it!" the bird cries.
"Actually," Cassius mutters beneath his breath, while keeping a wary eye on the devil in case it lurches back to its feet, "I am fairly certain you were screaming that I was an idiot. Barbazu! You are defeated! Return to Hell until such time as your masters call you again for... playtime."
Finally the last of your spell fades away and you are exposed. The devils instantly focus in on you.
The original devil falls as it attempts to bring its glaive to bear, the nerve damage you inflicted on it proving to be far more than it can handle.
But its companion is still strong and very very angry, swinging its blade at you with blinding speed, the metal easily severing skin and muscle. Blood issues forth from the wound, drenching your whole arm.
The devil tries to rise, but the wizard stabs downward, eliciting a tired groan from the fiend. Another stab and the creature dies, its last breath a gurgling wheeze. The mage's familiar flies down to settle on his masters shoulder.
"That has got to be one of the strangest people I have ever seen, fighting one of the strangest fights ever conducted..." one of the assembled Hellknights murmurs under her breath. Her companion nods in agreement.
The Hellknights shout and cheer as Cassius walks over to the others seated on victors row, and behind his mask the Vicarius's face contorts for the briefest of moments into what might possibly pass for the ghost of a smile. He nods to the newest Hellknight and calls the next name.
|
|
Who do you send to fight in Hell?
If you're smart, you send a Hellion.
Manipulative, strong, and a little vile. Sildred grew up with his father, and never knew his mother. As it would happen, he came to learn she was a hell-knight. Long martyred and dead, though she may be, Sildred seeks to understand her. He seeks to understand his human parent while his father plays games in the city.
While the bureaucrats have their day, he will enforce the will of the law. I will keep the peasants in Order. I will fight for my family's claim to this world.
|
|
Mwiba said nothing. There was no shouting, chanting, no cheering, nothing. If anything, the oread was sad. Fighting is what he lived for. This fight was over now, so he would have to live on until his next fight. Mwiba surveyed the other armigers that have joined the Order of the Gate with him... Bjorn... Kayle... Ivari... he took them all in and absorbed their personalities to better understand them. As he did this, the strangest thing happened... he was pleased. He did not trust them, he never trusted anyone, but he knew that if he was going on a journey, he could definitely have done worse than his new companions beside him. He was a Hell Knight, a new leg of his life had officially begun.
I will free 5 back, grab potion invisibility and drink it
Ivari nods once and leaves the field, taking his place with the others to watch the other attempts to pass the trials...
Waiting for confirmation on the completion of my own.
50-11-2-?
After drinking the invisibility potion, and presuming the summoned creature doesn't kill me with a 50% miss chance. I will then withdraw, loosing the summoned creature, and then drinking my CLW potion.
The next round I will pull put my scroll of Summon Monster III adn try to cast it
HP: 50-11-2-2
HP:50-11-2-2-2
A lantern archon springs in existence, and fire two rays at the original demon, who I presume is standing by now
HP:50-11-2-2-2-2
again with the scroll
After the lantern archon goes, I will draw another scroll, and attempt to cast it.
HP:50-11-2-2-2-2-2
Upon getting the scroll to work, a bolt of lightning streaks towards the devil, hoping to bypass the defenses it has.
You disappear and the devil swings wildly in frustration, but you are already gone, the next step in your plan being put into action.
An archon pops into existence above the already irritated devil's head, instantly swiveling and firing rays of light at the original devil. It groans and rolls out of the way, narrowly dodging the beams.
Just as you had planned. A straight crackling bolt of lightning slams into the devil, causing the fiends body to twitch and jerk and finally crumple, smoking, to the ground.
You fade into view, the backwash of the lightning spell cancelling out your invisibility. The fallen devil's ally looks between it and you, finally snarling in rage and charging.
Tieflings in the Hellknights were passing rare. Demon spawned tieflings were unheard of. Much like Orth Maul, this was the first time in the history of the Order that such a being had attempted to join their ranks. Many were even more dubious of the pitborn than they were of the orc. At least orcs were a natural race. Throughout your year of training as an armiger, your pride was constantly rankled by the taunts and barbs of your cadre and even other officers. Deep within you, you could not wait to win and pay back every subtle and not so subtle insult tenfold. You glare at your opponent with every bit as much ferocity as it glares at you.
The gong rings.
Elijah, gritting his teeth as the blade slashes his arm. He put it out of his mind, focusing only on the task at hand...kill the devil.
|
|
They would be happy to see him fail.
For a year he has endured the slings and arrows spent by his enemies. Jibes and insults futilely tendered in hopes to crack him. His enemies were fools to identify themselves.
He is the son of Zara - The chellish swordmaiden he never knew. She was a Hellknight. The only woman his father ever may have feared.
Father seduced her with his charms, and he had her bear his child. And then Father killed her in the aftermath when she was weak. She never saw it coming.
Most of these... these humans and what not. They are lost. They have so little imagination... They have probably never imagined what they loiok like when they are screaming and broken animals. Wretched creatures of just pain. Some may prove worthwhile, but the rest will regret crossing me. All in due time, of course.
A cloud of boiling rage is seething beneath his cold exterior.
Him has memorized the names of every Hellknight to offend Him so far.
Their reckoning will be returned in this proving.
They will eat their tongues.
Him enters the arena bearing Him's glaive.
Sildred locks his jaw and through his teeth he funnels his pent up rage at the hellknights. Him focuses it like a divine ray. Him's target is the opponent's glaive.
Him is ready to meet the full-blooded simpleton. Him readies Him's glaive.
[ooc]Potentially disarms himself here? I don't know.
Sildred's eyes go wide as he reacts. Father will be displeased. Oh NO. Father will be most displeased.
The devil dodges your hasty attack and swiftly lashes back at you, blade once again finding flesh.
Elijah, takes another sharp blow to the chest, blood dripping off his body at an alarming rate. He takes a look up to the heavens, wondering if he will be given the chance to avenge is clan, who were slaughtered by a devil.
He takes a step back, nocks one more arrow and fires and the devil. Hoping it strike true.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The devil barely grunts as the arrow pierces it, a mostly superficial wound. Seeing its swiftly fading opponent it quickly moves to finish him.
The ninja's body is in two pieces, cut neatly in half at the belly. His blood is pooled in splotches all over the arena, making what was already an unappealing scene gruesome. The summoned devil reaches down to retrieve its prize only to have its hand burned off before its eyes. There is a moment of shock on its face before it screams in pain and confusion. The Vicarius floats down from his balcony overlooking the Pit and stands between the devil and Elijahs broken body, shooing the devil away with an unconcerned wave of his hand. The fiend snarls savagely, but obeys, picking up its glaive with its other hand and walking back through the portal to Hell. A crook of his finger and a full half dozen signifiers sprint towards the Vicarius, quickly but gently loading up Elijah's body on a stretcher and carrying him out of the Pit to the medical wards. The Hellknights in the room stand up and salute the departing body, a Hellknight in death, if not in life.
The Vicarius mutters quietly and stretches out a hand, torrents of flame bursting from it to sweep all across the pit, vaporizing blood and turning sand to glass. A quick inspection shows that he hasn't missed a spot, and another spell causes the glass to shatter back into sand, leaving the Pit disturbingly pristine compared to the carnage that littered it just moments ago.
He nods to himself and raises back up to his balcony, shaking and straightening his robes out before calling out the next contender's name.
The devil charges at you, but you focus and clench your jaw, uttering an inaudible sound. The fiends weapon shatters in its claws, shards of metal dropping uselessly to the ground. The devil stares, stunned for a moment, then tosses the useless shaft aside and rushes you, crouched low.
The devil reaches out and swipes at you, three large gouges marring your face. You duck back, dodging the second claw and swiping at the devil with your glaive. It hits home, shrieking slightly against the devils armor.
You block the devils next attacks on the haft of your glaive, pitting your strength against its. You're evenly matched, veins popping and muscles bulging as you both strain against one another. Suddenly, with a sick crack your weapon snaps in the middle, and you both pitch forward, rolling desperately to regain your feet. You both come up in crouched fighting stances. You look at your weapon. The splintered haft is broken halfway down. The devil laughs.
A broken weapon for a broken little man-demon. How fitting.
Maeve sits with the other newly tested hellknights as the last few battles of this year's armigers are tested.
The blade scores deep into the devils hide, the silver coating easily cutting through its armored hide.
Darkly gleaming talons swipe at you, scraping against your armor until they finally score a shallow gash.
The devil screams in agony at the pair of devastating blows, the silver salt in the wound.
Its attacks are desperate and clumsy, hitting more from luck than from any actual intent behind the blow.