Tristwich

Pre-Christmas Tournament Round 1: Xavier Bloodbayne Vs Tristwich

What kind of braggart doesn't even allow for a gentleman to finish his sentence?! Its absolutely unacceptable, a crime he just could not possibly forgive. It looked like there was only one way for this to go, and it would be for Rivet to end this little whelp.

When the motion was made to flick the dagger, Lord Rivet acted out of instinct. Years of fighting unimaginable lovecraftian horrors does that to a man, and so with a graceful twist he ducked well underneath the flying projectile, his hat fully intact. Simultaneously he drew his weapons and began to make a run to his left, with the intention of keeping a fair distance away from the warrior. As any hunter knows its foolish to attack their quarry head on, so he would put some space between himself and his rude opponent. With all the blasted weaponry about it seemed as if he would be tripped by a random weapon if he wasn't careful.

During that time his Bloodlock pistol went to work, the needles draining a small amount of blood and filling the reservoirs inside the weapon. Before it was filled however Lord Rivet would require some of that blood to augment his bullet with the power of explosive blood. Hopefully it would do well in insuring his victory, but his plans were always more complicated than simple attacks and such. No his victory would be assured through careful planning and meticulous design. This was no simple hunt in the eerie darkness of his homeland, this was something much more exciting.

This was a proper scuffle fit for a man like Lord Rivet!

Showdown at the Ghost Town

She needed to find a way around that strange weapon, one where she did not die once it was activated. Perhaps she could try to use her speed to defeat him, but it would take time to shift her Mantels of Awakening, and all it took was one hit to end her. All the while the rank stench of death was getting closer, which only meant one thing...

Whack!

A body hit the ground next to her, someone had fallen from the building next to her. It was an easy four story height, enough to kill someone or put them into a coma, but then the body started twitching. At that moment, Annabelle knew it wasn't a normal person who just fell, it was an undead. The rotting corpse moaned softly as it picked itself up, turning its heard towards the warrior with a soulless hunger in its eyes.

Whack! Whack!

Two more bodies, forcing Annabelle to look upwards to discover a horde of zombies were on the roof of the building, and they were simply falling off of it in order to get to them. To her left was another horde, and behind her yet another, it looked as if the entire populous of the city was coming after them. Slow, shambling monsters were making their way, and Annabelle was left without many options.

"There's so many of them..." she said, her sword striking out quickly to dispatch the first few zombies coming for her from the building. Looking to Frost, she felt uncertain about whether or not to trust him, but now things had changed and she refused to die in this place. "I am willing to accept the chance you aren't the monster I thought you were..."

Ludonia, the Land of the Dead

"First I must make you all aware of a group of knights terrorizing the countryside." Gregor found bad news was best given first, as it allowed for the masses to digest and process it for a while, thud making it not as bad. "They call themselves the Silver Lances and have been running people down without provocation. If you see them, do not approach them, and instead alert your local authorities of their whereabouts. We will see to it these cowards receive justice."

King Gregor would ponder much of why the human factions felt it was so necessary to engage in these little skirmishes. Hardly any of his subjects were military, most of them were simple folks trying to live their deathly lives in peace. Many of the stereotypes created by the humans themselves have done much to damage the image of the undead. Gregor has hardly ever seen one of his people with the capacity for great evil, much as the rumors would have people believe.

Now for something a little more positive than murderers in the area. "Mrs. Worshire has decided to cancel her re-entry into death and instead is opening up her home for her new business of bone painting. If you wish to put some spice into your unlife with whimsical colors on those exposed skeletons, then please go see her as I am told she has reasonable prices for her work." It's important for the undead to have a job, a purpose in their life, in which to help tether their minds to reality. Without it, they tend to apply for the state sanctioned executions, and that always drops the spirits of the others for days afterwards.

Judging by what he saw, many of the people of Ludonia were pleased with these news, especially the groups of skeletons scattered throughout the crowd. They were usually the oldest, or most damaged of the undead, so she was sure to see some regular customers for her work. With more jobs in the private sector, the economy would start to shape up, and they might even be able to attract those fabled Flesh Sculptors from the Western Marshes Gregor had heard so much about. Of course it was hard for an economy to develop when there were bands of murderous knights killing your workers. Just another challenge for Ludonia and her king.

"I believe that is all the news for today. If any of you wish to speak with me, I will be in my study, making tea. Thank you all for coming and may you have a day full of purpose." Undead subjects were slow to emotional responses like clapping or cheering, so the most Gregor received was some 'your welcomes' and 'have a nice day' with an occasional nod thrown into the mix. Such was the life of an unliving creature, but it was one that he had grown accustomed well to. Now of course was the time to speak with his subjects as well as try to figure out an idea to stopping the knights and their evil rampage through Ludonian lands.

After putting a kettle above a fire, he laid out a map of Ludonia on a table in front of some chairs in his study. It was a nice enough place, though it could definitely do with some restoration. Another time, once it was in the budget of course, and now he must await his possible subjects as he delved into this difficult problem.

Pre-Christmas Tournament Round 1: Xavier Bloodbayne Vs Tristwich

It was a rather peculiar case of déjà vu, being back at this place once again, but sometimes things were best left unquestioned. Lord Rivet was here for a reason, and that purpose was to fight. Having appeared just twenty meters away from his opponent at the same time he appeared, he figured now was as good a time as any.

"Good day to you sir. I am Lord Rivet, and it appears we have been selected for battle in this...quaint little arena." So many weapons all over the place, maneuvering past every single one of them was going to be a pain. Of course one obstacle for him meant the same for his opponent, which meant he might just be able to turn this into an advantage.

"So then, shall we do this the way of gentleman or just get right into it, hmm?" The sky was clear, the sun was at midday, and there was hardly a breeze to be found. It was the perfect conditions for a battle, one which Rivet intended on being victorious. "Already got yourself a little toy I see? Quite interesting from the look of it." He would have to be careful, since that looked to be his only means of ranged attack.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

Nearing the obelisk, Zharak felt a familiar feeling begin to bubble up in his stomach. Fighting and surviving in Rzail had taught him a sort of sense for when something nasty was on its way. This feeling came true as the flash of light came, and the wretched undead came to feel the weight of his mace upon their skulls.

A good amount skeletal body parts were trampled by his automated wagon, but more were coming by the second. It wouldn't be long before the bastards would slow down his transport and try to take him down with it. Someone should have told them that a dwarf isn't so easily killed!

With skeletons starting to crawl along the side of his automated wagon, he made sure it was heading towards the obelisk before brandishing his weapon. "Loch Nogosh!" He yelled as he brought his mace down on the first skull that was near him. When it shattered into bits, the rest of the skeleton came apart, and Kazadime charged ahead to stop the undead filth from sabotaging his clockwork engine. With a few swings, some shouting and grit, he dispatched the skeletons trying to slow him down.

Now he had to deal with being on a collision course with a massive group of skeletons surging towards the entrance of the obelisk.

Taking his bag of grenades, Zharak pulled the pin off of one, shoved it into the engine and prepared to jump. At just the right time, he made the leap, rolling as he hit the sand and recovering just in time to get his shield out as the grenade went off. The blooming flower of fire and metal made short work of heavy group of skeletons that would have rushed the entrance if not for his intervention. Heavy boot steps followed as he made his way to the entrance.

"Out of my way! There's more of them just waiting to rip us all to shreds!" He said, knowing that trying to fight such a horde was impossible. Protocol dictated that the Ashen-Hammers would not engage, and would instead retreat to a safe location to hunt whatever remnants of the undead would be wandering the wastes afterward. Now was not the time for protocol however, now was the time to gain the vengeance his people had been seeking for too long now.

Pre-Christmas Tournament Round 1: Xavier Bloodbayne Vs Tristwich

I second this sentiment. I was given no indication as to who I was fighting against, and would not have used Lord Rivet against this character had I known who it was. Its hard to not feel a bit cheated when I try everything I can possibly think of and it just not matter.

Pre-Christmas Tournament Round 1: Xavier Bloodbayne Vs Tristwich

In light of some conversation I shall concede on this one.
@Dynamo Frokane

Pre-Christmas Tournament Round 1: Xavier Bloodbayne Vs Tristwich

Such shenanigans are useless against the raw splendor of Lord Rivets talent! This mysterious fellow thought he could pull off some kind of trick to get the edge on him? If only it were so simple! Such genius tactics are not simply done on accident, though they do come with unexpected benefits.

Yes the twister had the strength to pick up stones from the ground, but that was not the only thing it was beginning to pick up. Loose dirt and discarded weapons were also being picked up by the force of his little tornado, and the tornado was only growing more powerful as he had both hands on his weapon, increasing the speed at which he made his rotations. Not only would the particles have difficulty getting into a vortex now reaching sixty miles per hour, but they would not so easily latch onto the loose stone as random weapons and mounds of dirt intercepted them at nearly every turn.

With his pesky little particles taken care of, his attack was now without the proper information needed to strike him proper. The area at which the particles were being rebuffed was growing, thus making his silly little fist more inaccurate than his drunken father when he got in his little "shooting" moods. A pair of old mauls would disperse the particles with gusto, the weapons themselves smashed apart, but the pieces still kept within the power of his twister.

Finally it was time to advance towards this demonstrable knave! Lord Rivet was fully aware of where the fog had been coming from, calculating its likely epicenter as well as his own position from it on the battlefield. As he had only gone two directions, and not even at the same time, it was one simple maneuver to start heading TOWARDS this creature with the full power of nature at his command.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4559308

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

A reckoning was coming for the filth that inhabited Doch Mal, and his name was Zharak Kazadime. He had personally volunteered to intercept the group heading for the ruined fortress and join up in their efforts. If anyone was going to step foot in that place, it was going to be a dwarf, and it was going to be him.

Packed up in his clockwork automated wagon were various supplies. Food, water, a few grenades, rope and other basics for surviving out in Rzail. These were all the things that Zharak knew personally, for these dreaded wastes were his home. Looking out towards the Pillar, the ash covered dwarf gave a snort. Soon, he thought, his mace would get to taste undead flesh once more.

When he was at an appropriate distance, the red haired dwarf pulled out the flag of his clan and inserted it into the holder on the side of his vehicle. All those who didn't see the Ashen-Hammers as an enemy would know Zharak to be a blessing, and others well, they would know death was coming for them.



In the back of his head Zharak figured that it might be hard to convince the people at the Pillar to allow him to join their group. People were suspicious that way, but then again, Zharak had a bloody wagon to help bring them all the way over to the fortress in less time than walking. If they didn't want his help, well, then the bastards could walk off a cliff for all he cared then. Useless tall bastards is what they all are anyway.