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Post by Stix on Feb 17, 2008 22:10:55 GMT -5
The other warrior reacts in shock as Quicksilver comes after him with a pair of weapons that'll probably kill him in the long run from disease if she doesn't manage to open a vein with them.
"C'mon, basher, I'm just in this for sport," he pleads, fighting defensively.
Initiative
[dice=20-1]
Attack
[dice=20-1][rand=5652550460272233425166126916442079474613675123916569695251951217]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 17, 2008 22:38:50 GMT -5
Quicksilver grins, almost maniacly it seems, baring her even white teeth. "I'm here fer some sport too, basher." She giggles, clenching a wire bound fist and swings at him.
Initiative
[dice=20+3]
Attack
[dice=20+4]
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Post by Stix on Feb 17, 2008 22:48:57 GMT -5
Taken aback by the disturbed woman's idea of fun, the bewildered berk narrowly sidesteps Silver's jab, trying to find an opening to take another quick swing.
Initiative
[dice=20-1]
Attack
[dice=20-1][rand=2519445647421326752733451743384971025829950548248732988326237413]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 17, 2008 22:53:48 GMT -5
"Come 'ere, berk!" Quicksilver hisses, taken by the frenzy that hangs in the air, and the stench of blood permeating the pit. Yes. She would act as though she'd show him no mercy; that ought to take the frightened sod off-guard. Initiative [dice=20+3] Attack [dice=20+4] OOC: Here's to hoping the dice rolls better this time. 
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Post by Stix on Feb 17, 2008 23:24:52 GMT -5
(That's a hit; roll damage.)
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 18, 2008 20:28:23 GMT -5
[sweet.  That's 1d4, right?] [dice=4+1] Quicksilver giggles triumphantly as her wire-bound fist connects squarely, spraying blood across her wrist. [rand=4428332294025504351756253078517763431167775577337304822609103960229] |
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Post by Stix on Feb 18, 2008 20:57:50 GMT -5
Hit location
[dice=10][rand=2249649144867925720507306974828965140633898523316769025958569482607]
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Post by Stix on Feb 18, 2008 21:11:12 GMT -5
The crowd roars in malign adoration as Silver shrinks away from a clumsy swing, then darts in to hammer one barbed fist into the berk's all but unprotected right thigh.
"Ah!" he cries out in pain, staggering back a few steps as if trying to outpace his own bleeding injury. Eyeing the victorious woman resentfully, he limps slowly out of the ring.
From the edge of the crowd, Quicksilver's githzerai sponsor nods appreciatively.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 18, 2008 21:20:41 GMT -5
Jabbing her bloodied fist into the air - there was no way in Hell that she was going to be cleaning that anytime soon - Silver bows with a flourish, and swaggers out of the ring, toward her sponsor. She's grinning from ear to ear.
"So, cutter, when's me next fight?"
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That's 1d4, right?]