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Post by john on Feb 25, 2008 19:44:56 GMT -5
"Peh. Covert operatives who say they're covert operatives...."
John eyes the two bints up speculatively for a moment, "Geh. A novelty pairing. Takes away from the purity of the engagement."
The vulture-like taker appears to have taken on the role of curmudgeon, at least for the moment, as he watches the various parties chatter.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 25, 2008 20:14:14 GMT -5
AHAHA! Xianna lifts her head back and laughs. "The name's Xianna, but you can call me Fury in the ring." She pops her neck again, loosening up. "Alright then, who's the poor berks that's gonna face us?"
"Well, now, there's a fine arrang'ment." Quicksilver grins, nodding in accordance with her sponsor, and flexes her fingers. Her eyes shift colour in anticipation of the fight, this time from flint grey to a murky blood red. "Ye ain't no Taker of Blood, cutter, but this shoul' be interestin' an' fun." She extends her hand toward Xianna, her soon-to-be comrade in arms. "How do ye fight, Xianna, jes' so I knows how ta incorporate yer moves wit mine. We 'ave no chances o' success if'n we're outa sync, do we?" |
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Post by artemis on Feb 25, 2008 20:51:58 GMT -5
"I'll leave that to you, Silver." Xianna grinned, she had no problem letting her new partner take point. She takes Silver's hand. "Spells, blades, or fists, makes no difference to me, course I like bloodsplatter, it does wonders for my skin...heh, heh, heh"
'
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 26, 2008 21:14:22 GMT -5
"I'll leave that to you, Silver." Xianna grinned, she had no problem letting her new partner take point. She takes Silver's hand. "Spells, blades, or fists, makes no difference to me, course I like bloodsplatter, it does wonders for my skin...heh, heh, heh" ' Quicksilver smirks, clasping Xianna's hand firmly. "I fight wit' me fists or chivs mostly; messier that way, an' the crowd loves it. Though, sometimes I like ta disarm 'em first, or knock 'em down, then finish 'em off. Whichever suits me at tha time." The hexblade shrugs, and grins again. Either way it went, this was going to be a memorable night. |
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Post by artemis on Feb 27, 2008 7:53:54 GMT -5
Xianna returns her grin. "Well, I got this rapier and a dagger for shivs," then indicates the crossbow on her back. "I don't reckon this is very sportsman like, so I'l leave it with ol' Iljen" She shuffles around in anticipation. OOC: Nice pic btw  |
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Post by celticguy on Feb 27, 2008 22:56:23 GMT -5
'At's me, the woman says, turning her attention to Rhenai. To match her armor, Corlinn's black hair is worn in spikes of varying length, a popular style with many of the more savage warriors of Tir na Og. Stray locks hang down around her brow and ears, giving her a dirty and disheveled mien. A latticework of scars covers her exposed forearms and hands, and an old blade-wound across her face has left both lips and one nostril split down to the bone. Her deep-set hazel eyes are devoid of any sympathy or consideration. The warrior-woman regards the genasi with simple glances at weapons, armor, and faction symbols. I usually like what Felgar sends me. You'll risk your life soon, I promise you.
"Exactly how soon, I'm gettin kinda bored just standin aroun' waitin fer a turn inna ring" he says, looking around at the other arena fighters scattered across the room. |
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Post by Stix on Feb 29, 2008 14:19:29 GMT -5
"Alright then, who's the poor berks that's gonna face us?" " I'll have to see about that," Iljen offers, eyeing some of the other promoters. " I'll have to find either a single sponsor with two Green bashers to put in, or two sponsors willing to throw in together. I'll get to work on it now." In an instant, the githzerai is on her way over to a small crowd chattering away in one corner, snapping her fingers repeatedly to get their attention. " "I don't know anything about these names, who'll get me the best jinks for my fights," the Prime inquires." Well, if you want the real dark of it, it'll cost yeh a garnish, y'see?" Felgar sidles up a little closer to the bar. " Another way fer an honest spiv ta turn a coin!" he adds with a broad grin. John eyes the two bints up speculatively for a moment, "Geh. A novelty pairing. Takes away from the purity of the engagement." The vulture-like taker appears to have taken on the role of curmudgeon, at least for the moment, as he watches the various parties chatter. John's bitter reverie is broken by Ghour's hand clapping him heavily on the back. " Next fight is yours. If you want to put a wager on yourself, give me the jink you want to put into it, and I'll take care of it."
"Exactly how soon, I'm gettin kinda bored just standin aroun' waitin fer a turn inna ring" he says, looking around at the other arena fighters scattered across the room. " Impatience is a virtue," Corlinn says, brushing some stray hair out of her eyes. " You're at the top of my order now, so the next fight comes along is yours. Before antipeak." Scanning the room for other promoters, Corlinn excuses herself without another word and marches into the crowd to arrange a fight. |
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Post by john on Feb 29, 2008 23:08:46 GMT -5
John grins mirthlessly at Ghour, and hands him a small pouch from his belt. "You got odds on it yet or am I betting blind?"
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Post by TheGratefulNed on Mar 1, 2008 10:12:26 GMT -5
Nuuko fishes through a belt pouch and produces a minted gold piece. Turning it over between his fingers, the Athasian seems mesmerized by the dull, grimy yellow coin. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he plunks the money down on the bar in front of Felgar and eyes the little bartender, "the dark then."
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Post by celticguy on Mar 1, 2008 18:33:51 GMT -5
"Well that certainly is an interestin' character" Rhenai sas to himself, watching Corlinn disappear into the crowd. "Ah, well, interestin's always better" he says, then heads back towards the bar to talk to Felgar.
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Post by Stix on Mar 1, 2008 22:18:24 GMT -5
John grins mirthlessly at Ghour, and hands him a small pouch from his belt. "You got odds on it yet or am I betting blind?" " Blind. You're probably the favorite." Ghour hefts the pouch for good measure. " Profitable night for the both of us." Sweepers begin to clean out the ring, and the orc points John toward the edge of it. " Take your place. Just you an' him, so draw it out." Nuuko fishes through a belt pouch and produces a minted gold piece. Turning it over between his fingers, the Athasian seems mesmerized by the dull, grimy yellow coin. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he plunks the money down on the bar in front of Felgar and eyes the little bartender, " the dark then." Felgar pockets the coin and leans in, whispering under the din to the tall Prime. |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Mar 2, 2008 4:56:50 GMT -5
"Alright then, who's the poor berks that's gonna face us?" " I'll have to see about that," Iljen offers, eyeing some of the other promoters. " I'll have to find either a single sponsor with two Green bashers to put in, or two sponsors willing to throw in together. I'll get to work on it now." In an instant, the githzerai is on her way over to a small crowd chattering away in one corner, snapping her fingers repeatedly to get their attention. Silver watches Iljen walk off into the crowd, and turns to regard Xianna, her sister-in-arms once more. "Well, looks like all we 'afta do is wait, aye?" She says with a lopsided grin, and cracks her knuckles restlessly. "I'd say lets 'ave some extra fun while we're out 'ere, an' start a fight, or throw back that swill good ol' Felgar is servin', but there's no sense in dullin' our edge, is there?" Her eyes shift colour again, one a lighter shade of grey, and the other a startling clear blue. "An' we'll be ina tha' ring soon enough."She looks bored and restless as she bounces from one foot to the other, scanning the crowd, and watching Iljen wig-wag with a few other sponsors. OOC: Nice pic btw thanks for the compliment. That's one of my older pictures of Wraith, which I finished earlier this week. |
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Post by exile on Mar 4, 2008 19:32:14 GMT -5
Leeches. Parasites. Oh, powers how he hated them sometimes. Always with their hands out, clawing at him. They took everything he could give and demanded more; sucked you dry until you were little more than an empty husk, dead to the world. Help themselves? Hah! When the Blood War ends, cutter. Vermin. Filth. Beneath even dignity.
They made him ill.
Hadrian stalked the streets of the Hive wearing an expression better suited to a thundercloud. He had woken up that morning irritated, and by peak he was incensed. Abandoning his post at the Gatehouse for the day, he had swept through the most ill reputed districts of the great torus in such a foul temper that even the Barking Dogs had kept their distance.
“To the nine hells with you!” he shouted suddenly, jabbing out a finger vehemently at a heedless passerby, unaccountably selected to bear the brunt of his wrath. “To the hells with all of you!”
“Wha’ss the matter, berk?” came a voice from the street behind him. Hadrian rounded on the speaker sharply to find a thickly muscled gnoll staring down his snout at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. The humanoid was reclining casually against the wall of a seedy looking tavern. Hadrian opened his mouth to utter some foolhardy words but was interrupted by the sudden opening of the establishment’s door and the forcible ejection of an unlucky basher. The bleaker’s words died on his lips.
The Blood Pit
Icon of a crumbling society. Testament to incalculable misery. The very symbol of all that he detested; the preying on the weak.
But on this day, at this moment, Hadrian no longer cared.
If those berks are content to live in a burning house, then perhaps its time someone stoked the fire and rid us of them all!
Brushing past the Gnoll without a further glance, Hadrian plunged into the heart of his venomous hatred. Many times he had walked past this place before without entering, and whatever he might have imagined before, the truth of what he now took in was just as foul as his dreams. Sizing up the room at a glance, he spied two miserably chits parading about like blade-feathered peacocks.
“You!” he spat, indicating a pink haired woman with a star-burst tattoo on her cheek. “And you!” this was directed at a blue haired Tiefling with eyes that flashed red. “You both look like you’re angling for a fight, hey? Eager to cut some poor sod into strips? For the right color of jink, I’ll give you an edge or patch you up and send you back for more punishment. Ten fer cantrips, twenty for the first house, fifty for the second and ninety for the third. What do you say?”
In his current frame of mind, the Bleaker had little regard for discretion. In the crowded room his words likely wouldn’t carry far, but certainly far enough. If the two bashers he had picked on weren’t willing to be his agents of destruction tonight, he was willing to bet someone else within ear shot would.
In fact, he was willing to bet the house on it.
(OOC: Hadrian has singled out Silver and Xianna if the reference wasn’t clear enough. For the curious, the prices quoted are competitive to what Stix appraised me of for the establishment.)
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Mar 4, 2008 22:20:52 GMT -5
Quicksilver bristles at the approach of the irate man, spouting his obscenities in vain over the monstrous noise; but not so vainly that she doesn't by chance pick him out from the crowd. He doesn't just walk, he stomps through the crowd, pushing the drunks aside as though they mean nothing to him.
Now this was the kind of man she liked to see. Someone who knew his worth, and was willing to bet it all on a single toss of the bones.
Quicksilver flashes a bloodthirsty grin. Well now, who's this? She thought, eyeing the furious man up and down, his words almost lost to her over the racket of the crowd, and the rush of blood behind her own temples. Still his expression, and the implications behind his demands aren't lost on her.
Then she laughs at the raging man, jabbing her elbow into Xianna's ribs as though sharing some private joke with her. Spellslinger, aye? More like some barmy that stumbled out of the Gatehouse while his Bleaker wards weren't looking.
Raising her wire-bound fists to crack them slowly, deliberately, before his flaming blue eyes, Silver starts to stalk around him; drawing so close he may smell her cheap perfume, the cheaper swill on her breath, and the stench of disease that seems to waft from her filth encrusted gauntlets.
"Ye ain't no sponsor or nothin'. Ifn ye were, berk, I woulda seen ye afore. An' I'm 'ere almost every night. A gal's gotta 'ave her jink somehow." She says with a cruel smirk, stopping before the man to look him square in the eye. Her flinty orbs shift and burn with a latent intelligence and cunning, and a thirst for destruction that few things seem to quench. She's a dangerous woman, unpredictable, and she show's that clearly, in her eyes, and her crooked toothy smile.
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Post by artemis on Mar 4, 2008 22:57:35 GMT -5
Xianna grins the biggest grin she's ever displayed in her life. In fact, it felt like the corners of her mouth would split open. Then, she lost the grin, real quick. She shuffles a little when Silver jabs her pointy elbow into her ribs, but doesn't display surprise. This berk is barmy. She was new here, but she was sure this wasn't protocol. She held her reaction, though her eyes blazed red. She couldn't tell if he was thunderstruck, a bubber, or if he was some sort of leatherhead. All of a sudden, she almost felt sorry for him, he don't belong here. No, no, he don't belong here at all.She follows Silver, opposing her in her circles, like two sharks, but says nothing. She stops opposite of him, trying to figure out his angle. She still says nothing, but crooks her head to the side, and waits.
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Post by exile on Mar 4, 2008 23:40:18 GMT -5
An acrid odor accompanied the pink-haired girl as she stalked about Hadrian, filling his nares, suffusing his being and permanently sullying him. He despised her. No, that wasn’t nearly strong enough. He was repulsed by her.
She was perfect.
Live or die, as long as she brought the house down with her it mattered nothing.
Hadrian’s eyes rested heavily upon her leather-clad form, unflinchingly following her every gesture until she vanished behind him only to be replaced a moment later by her blue-haired companion. This one too was a ball of fury, waiting to be unleashed. He couldn’t have hoped for more apt instruments.
If only they weren’t so sodding thick.
“Sponsor?” he mocked, as the pink-haired girl came back into the fore. “Has someone already rattled your bone-box tonight? No, basher, I’m no sponsor. And I don’t especially care how you make your money. If after tonight, this place lies in ashes I couldn’t be more pleased.”
Holding the woman’s gaze he pressed on.
“So park your ears, basher, I won’t lann you again. For the right price I can be your best friend tonight, or you can tell me to pike it and risk winding up on the wrong end of my work. For enough coin I can make your chiv cut through steel. I can make your hide as strong as Arcadian oak or perhaps you’d prefer to have the strength of a vrock when you twist your blades in your enemy’s flesh.”
“But don’t waste my time, basher. If you don’t want these things, I’m sure your opponents do,” he concluded, with no attempt to mask the threat implied by his words.
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Post by artemis on Mar 5, 2008 8:45:02 GMT -5
"Okay basher, what's your angle? Why would ya wanna help a couple of cutters like us? Nevermind, I don't wanna know. Whatcha got?". Xianna staightens her head and slowly approaches, but keeps her distance. It's second nature for her to stay in swinging distance. She eyes Silver, gauging her reaction. Xianna was volatile, but Silver seemed to be downright unstable. Glad that barmy chit is on my side.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Mar 5, 2008 21:44:27 GMT -5
"Ifn this case be lyin in rubble by tomorra, great. Ifn it don't... it'll be livin on as the bastion of destruction it is. An' I'll keep comin' back 'ere, 'til tha day it no longer appeals ta me." She grins hungrilly at the furious madman. Her eyes shift color, and shine like large droplets of blood in the dim light. They don't blink, but remain fixed upon him, like a predator observing her prey. "An' it ain't happened yet."
Then her eyes and her expression soften, accentuated by her trademark lopsided grin and a hint of pearl white teeth. She restlessly shifts from one foot to the other, at last settling into a more relaxed stance, and hooks her thumbs into her belt.
"Ye've got yerself a deal, basher." She winks at the man. "Some healin' and somethin' ta make me hit 'em harder should do me jes nicely. But do me an' me fellow cutter here wrong, an I'll be openin' yer belly from neck ta groin, an shovin' ya nethers down ya throat, savvy?"
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Post by exile on Mar 6, 2008 23:41:39 GMT -5
“Excellent,” Hadrian smiled, but the expression was surprisingly devoid of humor. “Now you’re speaking my tongue, cutters. Since we have an understanding, we can get down to details. These are the services I can offer you bashers…”
(OOC: The following spells have a range of ‘other’, and a duration longer than one round. There really is no clear and succinct way to list them in character so I’m just going to do this instead. Caster level is 6 where it affects the outcome.)
Cantrips:
Resistance - Subject gains +1 on saving throws
Guidance - +1 on one attack roll, saving throw, or skill check
First House:
Bless Weapon - Weapon strikes true against foes of opposite alignment
Enlarge Person - Humanoid creature doubles in size
Jump - Subject gets bonus on Jump checks
Mage Armor - Gives subject +4 armor bonus (does not stack with other armor)
Magic Weapon - Weapon gains +1 bonus
Protection from Evil - +2 AC and saves, counter mind control, hedge out elementals and outsiders.
Shield of Faith - Aura grants +2 or higher deflection bonus (presently +3).
Second House:
Barkskin - Grants +2 (or higher) enhancement to natural armor (presently +3)
Bull’s Strength - Subject gains +4 to Str for 1 min/level
Protection from Arrows - Subject immune to most ranged attacks
Third House:
Displacement - Attacks miss subject 50%
Heroism - Gives +2 bonus on attack rolls, saves, skill checks
Magic Weapon, Greater: +1/four levels (max +5).
Healing (all houses):
Cure Minor Wounds - Cures 1 point of damage
Cure Light Wounds - Target heals 1d8+1/level max 5
Cure Moderate Wounds - Cures 2d8 damage +1/level (max+10)
Restoration, Lesser - Dispels magical ability penalty or repairs 1d4 ability damage
Cure Serious Wounds - Cures 3d8 damage +1/level (max +15)
Satisfied that his customers were aware of his capabilities, Hadrian allowed the pair a moment to consider their options. Interjecting before long however, he added: “Once you make your choices, you need only find me again right before the battle so I can prepare you. I will not stray far from that corner.” As the aasimar spoke, he hiked a finger over his shoulder to indicate an area near the bar where currently a throng of gamblers and book keepers were busy tallying the odds before the next fight.
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Post by Stix on Mar 8, 2008 23:19:46 GMT -5
John takes the ring as soon as he's able. Entering opposite him is a large humanoid with a plate-clad torso too large for the rest of it. Its cumbersome weight is supported by two short but stoutly-armored legs, and its four arms hold a heavy shield, a long sword, and a halberd. The open-faced helm protecting its head also sports a heavy cowl, which covers the being's face from the bridge of the nose down.
"Returning after a long absence from the Pit: the Taker of Blood!" roars the announcer's voice from some point overhead. "And his opponent: Olmen the Silent!"
The crowd shouts its appreciation and its obscenities as a red flare of light explodes overhead....
(John, roll a DC 12 Reflex to avoid surprise, and Initiative, please. Everyone else may make a Spellcraft or Kn/Arcana to identify the small red sun suddenly appearing over the fight.)
Olmen
Reflex [dice=20+4]
Initiative [dice=20+4][rand=027586665750659933267731245704296183531921745898264647539306626163]
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