"Nice punch, good fellow."
Free Action to keep up Battle Dance.
Skeiyer is hit pretty hard. He shakes in order to remain standing, mumbling something that might have been a return congratulations, but the words are too small and pathetic to be certain.
[/ooc]
He tries to cast a spell beneath Horfil's notice but panics. A wisp of cold air escapes from his hands and he whimpers.
"Well if you aren't going to punch me, I'll just punch you."
Skeiyer tries to let loose with one final spell in Horfil's direction, but the concussion causes him to miss quite badly, the ice dancing around his palm lazily.
"That was your last chance!"
"To do wh-," Skeiyer manages to articulate before he's knocked out cold. The crowd gives a decent showing of applause. At least it hadn't been boring. There had been the chance to watch one spell go off and the bard's dance demanded attention.
Fulgrim Stockhour motions for Marduzi to pull Skeiyer to a safer location and hands Horfil a small bag of coinage after some quick calculations on an abacus.
As soon as the crowd quiets down, Sorval and Bree are called forward.
The spry dwarfess has her favored weapon and plays with it as she enters the ring, intent on Sorval at the same time.
"Best of luck!"
Manny capers around Horfil, working the crowd.
This is only the beginning, just wait till Sorval gets in there!1!1!
Sorval enters the ring...
More than eager to begin her bout...
Swift: She spends 1 Arcane pool point making the Sap a +1 weapon for 10 rounds.
Moves up to Bree and Attacks in a flurry of words and sap casts: Frostbite using spellstrike
Edit:all of the Damage is nonlethal and 4 count as cold as well; I'm not sure if that hit but I still have 1 charge left of Frostbie if I did hit. Frostbite is actually 1d6+ CL so I actually did 10 (sorry). And she is fatigued.
Bree's legs shake from the first hit and her bright smile falters. Her skin is slightly blue from the chill, too.
"Oi, wha's with all tha' ice today, eh?" calls out someone from the audience through all the cheering. No one seems to be rooting for Bree so much as for the newcomer at the moment.
Exoticism isn't everything, but it does pique the attention of a drunkard's wallet.
Bree grits her teeth and tries to get a single hit in while switching her mode of attack to defensive.
She goes for the kneecaps with her "blade", whapping them painfully.
Behold as the Lady of Frost dances about the ring! Her blows send chills of fear as well as frost through her foes!
Manny works the crowd.
Zeltor starts pondering how in the World he will be able to live up to the performances put up by his companions thus far - "At least Ruul will be closing the whole thing.." - he speaks to himself absent mindedly.
Sorval pulls her her sap back and goes for another blow; this time at Bree's center of mass.
Well, that's going to bruise...
But telegraphs the move too soon...
There are a few drunken cheers that greet Manny's promises, and definitely movement, but this is punctuated by groans of disappointment as Sorval misses.
However, the panting Bree fares no better.
Well; this reminds me of yesterday...
She takes a hop the right; hoping to distract the Dwarf and follows through with another blow- this time just under the stomach...
Five-Foot Step
She didn't hit me that hard... did she?
Bree had ducked in an absurd fashion, demonstrating her alacrity.
She now brings her "scythe" back up to bear, but she also lets her guard down in pursuit of a better hit.
However, the attempt is made in vain.
Sorval! Sorval!
The slight opening that Bree leaves costs her dearly- as Sorval attempts to go for her midsection once again- and scores an effective blow against the acrobatic dwarf... and watches as she falls heedlessly- Sorval catches her and makes sure her fall is harmless (if needed that is...)
At least Bree is out like a wet torch... Sorval thinks of the unconscious Dwarf- She's pretty dextrous for a dwarf though.
Ladies and Gentlemen...Sorval with her magci fists have won!
Manny jumps around, rubbing his hands. Now it is time for the main event, Ruul Spiritskin!
A drunken cheer rises as Sorval bests Bree, who crumples into another heap that forces Marduzi to take the field. The victor's name is chanted with gusto as Fulgrim emerges from the crowds yet again with a money pouch.
With that, the sweating, unpleasant opponent of Zeltor shoves his way into the ring. Marduzi visibly reels from his body odor.
"Lesh' do thish!"
Before engaging his opponent, and as he enters the combat area, Zeltor goes through a few katas, warming up his muscles for what is to come.
He then bows to his opponent, and assumes a fighting stance - "Lets" - is his simple answer.
Ruddy-faced, the drunkard doesn't let Zeltor get much communication in edgewise. A fist flies into his face, but the man's defenses are quite poor. Zeltor can sense this.
The punch is brutal, almost making Zeltor reel back on his feet, but still managing to keep his balance, he retorts with a well balanced roundhouse kick, aimed at tripping the man.
Ooohh Yeah! Watch as Zeltor flips his opponent through the air!
Come on Zeltor! Show him what for! She shouts as Zeltor walks out for his match.
Hit. NL.
Zeltor lunged expertly, but the drunkard seemed to be waiting for that, lurching and mercilessly pounding Zeltor in the temple. The tiefling couldn't keep his eyes open, and his ears rang.
He was defeated, but the pig of a man didn't seem too well off aftersix seconds more of revelling in his glory. The victor challenged everyone in the crowd, threw up, and then tottered off to a rock where he sat down and immediately dozed off. Even giving him his winnings would have to wait.
Marduzi rushed in to attend to Zeltor, who would come to on his own within the next hour, but checked him over all the same before pulling him to the sidelines.
The crowd called out for more.
The Cheliaxian arsechlock from earlier was only too happy to oblige. He entered the field with gusto, and the crowd responded with a recognized cheer after someone used his moniker.
"Now, now, this is our final scheduled fight of the night, ladies and gentlemen!" Fulgrim announced. "Place your bets and know the odds are even, even if only one fighter here has a reputation you are aware of. Ruul and Ventus, take your places."
Ventus is shaking slightly and is perspiring overmuch. He may be using some sort of drug.
Take a look at him ladies! 100% all natural prime beef! ;) Watch him pummel his opponent into a whimpering pile of pain!
"We like the cut of your jib!" pipes up some young thing in the crowd, but it is hard to see from where in the midst the words come. The sounds of coins exchanging is quite loud.
Ventus laughs and proceeds to start saying something.
Eye of the tiger! Watch those body blows ladies! Ruul is no Nin-cow-poop!
The blow is devastating, and Ruul's fist comes away misted and bloody.
The wounds are closing up. Not completely, but his body is doing something to itself...
Ventus has wilder eyes than before as he attempts to return Ruul's favor, righting his staggering steps.
But he overcompensates. The crowd roars.
Manny nudges Sorval .Hey look what is going on there, Ventus's body is healing up.
Sorval looks over the Obviously injured man for any signs of regeneration...
I see it... Sorval murmurs a small phrase and studies the strange phenomena...
Mm..This is kind of iffy. The guy Horfil faced used magic, so this might be okay for that guy to heal himself.
Ventus is plastered to the ground, bleeding despite the nonlethal intent of Ruul's fists.
The crowd is hushed for a moment, but then someone yells something in dwarvish (which more or less translates to "that was shorter than I expected"), and everyone roars.
Meanwhile, Ventus twitches, trying to get back up.
Although he's obviously still unconscious. WTF?!
Manny jumps around. Tha winna! Ruul Spiritskin!
Ventus doesn't seem to be listening. In spite of Manny and the crowd's rejoicing, he gets up completely.
Manny boots Ventus. You heard Ruul! Take your lumps like a man!
Being that Manny was a little ways away during his attempt to get up, Manny only had time to approach the downed opponent, who immediately lunged for Ruul.
...but missed and passed out on his own. This time, he stayed down, but he got a rise out of those who had bet for him that was replaced by disappointed groans.