Zwergkampf!

[Morph Bark]

Part of EMPIRE!, this takes place in the Year 373.

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3



Sulvan's Fury was bustling with excitement. The people were uneasy, worried, but also largely curious what their next Primarch would be like. The royal family had largely disappeared, and the distant members that still were there were too distant, and so the throne would fall to those who would win in the arena.

A large underground arena was erected, the cave hollowed to a perfect dome cut with imagery of former Primarchs and champions, their beards decorated with lines of mithril, their eyesockets filled with gems. The stands filled with thousands of dwarves to watch the tournament, eager to find out who would be their next ruler.

Battle! The dwarven beerhalls stank with excitement. Soon there'd be victory, soon there would be A PRIMARCH!

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3



Invitees:
- Keldagrim (has claim due to Sulvan marriage ties)
- Razdis (has claim due to Sulvan ancestry)
- Sanctuary (has claim due to Sulvan ancestry)
- Lyradis (has claim due to Sulvan ancestry)
- Bordeux (as an observer)
- Ashenia (as an observer)
- Raaneka (to supply booze)
- Grmanhil (to supply booze)

Bordeux and Ashenia might also bring forth claimants from among their citizenry that may have Sulvan ancestry due to their long ties with the region of Sulvan's Fury, but these will be mere commoners. Claimants that aren't rulers use stats generated similarly to that of a new player's first ruler/unrelated new ruler. Commoner stats are all 1d3s, arrange to liking.


The Competition:
The Primarch will be decided by elimination tournament. All participants will duel until one has been wounded--what constitutes as "wounded" is vague in Sulvai terms, as long as the wounded can still walk away from the battle it's all good.

Winners of a duel are decided by rolling 1d10+1/2 Military, best 2 out of 3 wins.

(In case of an amount of participants that isn't 2, 4 or 8, the numbers will be filled up with Sulvan claimants to one such number.)

[Silverbit]

A Razdissi entered the arena, clad in simple steel mail and an unadorned Barbute helm. Yet his clothing beneath the armour was fine, and he carried himself like a king. The dwarf raised his sword and shield into the air, and bellowed a challenge:

"I am Razkai son of Razkai, Mormaer of Razdis and Elbaraz, and I claim the throne of Sulvan's Fury by right of ancestry! I shall have the throne, and shower rewards on those who follow me!"

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Benjamin Serendel II strides out, his father standing along the lines of the stadium.

"My grandfather sacrificed his life to stop a war between your allied nations and the nations to the east. He decended from the dwarves, as I have, and have always considered the Dwarves to be brothers to Lyradis! I come here not to contest Razdis' claim! No, we shall be happy if our dwarven brothers, who have long been an aid to our nation should succeed in their claim! We come to ensure that this nation is led by that of the most able, and for that we come to compete in claim, and will be judged according to the terms of the tournament!"

Ben sports Rhino Leather, and no weapons, though some items await him on the sidelines should the tourney dictate need. In the mean time, he awaits the first event to see if the conditons provide the items he might need.

((OOC: The GC as part of their peace agreement has stated that Keldagrim will not seek to claim Sulvan's Primarchy. If they appear, the GC will be making the agreement void. Also, Ben the Second is the Grandson of Gareth...what should I do with that for his stats?))

[Morph Bark]

An elderly dwarf, young enough to still look fit despite his grey-brown beard and balding head, stood atop a small stage in the middle of the arena. He tried to get the crowd's attention, as well as the participants. "Right, right then!" He coughed. "Is this all then?" He looked around. There were a bunch of Sulvai in addition to Razkai and Benjamin, but while some looked like they might be able to rule, they were not fit for the competition. Others were clearly quite fit, but seemed to be quite the opposite in condition for ruling.

"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE?!" The dwarf bellowed from the top of his lungs like a drill sergeant.

---

3



Giving it another 12 hours or so for other participants to show up, then duels will commence. Those who do not have stats yet will be assigned either a 5 (in case of those descended from a PC ruler like Benjamin) or 3 (PCs of "commoner" descent) or 1-3 (NPCs). If less than 4 players partake, each will have to go through one round of fighting an NPC.

[Elemental]

Near to where the Princess Regent of Ashenia sat in the front row flanked by guards to observe the proceedings, a man stepped forward. Tall for a dwarf but far too short to be Ashenite. Still, his Ashenite heritage was clear in the way his long black hair was braided, the style of the sword belted at his waste and the icy blue of his eyes.
"I am Orin Silverstrand, son of Oriel. With the Paragons as my witness, I claim the throne of Sulvan's Fury by virtue of ancestry."

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1

Only two participants? Can't have that, particularly for so magnificent a realm. Thus, enter Random Commoner One. I don't expect to win, but if I do, it will be a pleasant surprise.

[Morph Bark]

"Right! Another one we got!" The old dwarf shouted so that all could hear. "Still not much, but it'll do. Guess the youngsters these days ain't interested in a good dwarven political clobberin'. At least not the partakin' of it."

He thinks for a while. "Right! Since we ain't got a good number then for a duel tournament, we'll go with the backup: a grand melee. If you want to get out, you just need to get out of the arena. If you're down for five seconds, you're out as well. All ready? Then get to yer spots in a circle, and we'll begin!"

The old dwarf walked out of the arena grounds, up a stairs and into the announcer's box. "All in yer places? GIT TO THE CLOBBERIN'!"

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3



Figured I'd do it this way instead since we've got three PC participants (and I don't really want/have time to RP multiple NPC contestants).

Grand melee winner is the one with the least amount of cuts. There are three rounds (three rolls of 1d10+Military). Winner of a round only has one cut. Second place, two cuts, third place three, and so on. The one who wins at least one round and has the least amount of cuts of all the winners is declared the Grand Melee Champion and new Sulvan Primarch!

I'll do a short bit for one or two NPC contestants later this week with their rolls.

Wombat, since Benjamin would be rolled for as a new ruler with arranged stats, his Military can be anywhere from 1 to 5. I'd save his stats somewhere if I were you, just in case he'd turn out as a new Lyradissian king or for a venture.

[Silverbit]

"Orin, Ben, let us begin. T'would be good if Lyradis won the throne, but I'm sure you'll understand me wanting to win this combat. Have at thee!"

Razkai jabs with his blade.

(1d10+4)[7]

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Benjamin, II retreats back to his father, and retrieves his bronze saber. His father gives him a word of encouragement and luck, before Ben returns to the battle field. Ben remembers a story his uncle Royce told him once. Royce had dueled a Kasumorian princess, and they ended up falling in love. Eyeing his competition, that didn't seem to be anything like how this story might turn out, but perhaps his Uncle's luck would carry over to this 3 way duel all the same.

Ben took a stance, smiled at the dwarf as he concentrated on each opponent, and reacted as they attacked. Playing defensively in a 3 way combat would ensure he did not get pinned between the two. Any successful parries Ben will attempt to push back his opponent toward the other.

(1d10+4)[5]

[Elemental]

Open melee? Untraditional, but understandable with so few competitors. He might not have royal blood, but he knew what he was doing. As such, he set upon his opponents with a style neither truly Ashenite or Sulvan, but a melding of the two. Hopefully the confusion of an unconventional style would prove to be his greatest tool.

(1d10+3)[10]

---

2

Rolls for Orin Silverstrand.

Stats:
Diplomacy: 2
Military: 3
Curiosity: 1
Faith: 1
Luck: 3

[Zap Dynamic]

"Give 'im the chair!" A massive Raaneki bellowed from the seats. His godana were blue as a clear sky, and made powerful shapes across his sculpted frame. His skin was dyed silver from head to foot.

"No! Aim for the gut, ye coward!" The Raaneki shouted between mouthfuls of Crimar bat crisps. He was Avam Devdano, the Wandering Prince, a renowned warrior and the royal family of Raaneka's most wayward son. He stayed nowhere long, but had been drawn to Sulvan's Fury at the promise of bloodsport, and brought a cache of Raaneki Heartwine in tow. He balanced a small cask on his shoulder, swigging long and often.

"HAHA! That's it!! After him, now!"

[Silverbit]

Razkai focused intently on the Lyradisian, ignoring the Ashenite for now.
"Pah, he's just a commoner, what the worst he could d-"
Pain lanced across his side; the Ashenite had hit him!
Furiously, Razkai spins his sword in a desperate bid to strike both foes.

(1d10+4)[8]

Razkai has 2 cuts.

[Elemental]

It appeared he'd been underestimated by at least one of his opponents, and said opponent had decided to strike at him. It was only proper that a potential Primarch be prepared to have his blood spilled to earn the roll.
In any case, an early victory should best be followed up by a few more. As such, he feinted a lowering of his guard and prepared to land a few sword blows on whomever misinterpreted his action.


(1d10+3)[6]

Orin has one cut.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Benjamin grunted audibly as his defensive tactics failed him, and both contestants went for him at once, score a hit or two each on his lesser arm and side, before turning on each other. He took this advantage to press his opponents, trying to score a few hits in return for his injuries.

(1d10+4)[7]

Benjamin has 3 cuts

[Silverbit]

Call that a feint? More like an opportunity. Razkai went full out, dropping his shield and grasping his sword in both hands.

(1d6+4)[9]

Razkai has 3 cuts.

[Elemental]

Well, he deserved that for trying something unnecessarily fancy. Still, even if he lost, to fight with royalty was an honour in itself. A few more blows, and it would all be decided.

OOC: Unless we tie.

(1d10+3)[4]

Orin has four cuts.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Benjamin was deliberating waiting until the Dwarf was done before attacking him again. Then again, something his father had told him was being a ruler meant juggling several things at once, in union, is being a ruler. Spinning clay plates, Ben believed the term was. Ben warily advanced, knowing the amount of cuts on himself were likely already dooming him to lose. Still, being last and pressing on to first would at least show some credibility.

(1d10+4)[14]

Ben has 5 cuts.

(if the dwarf had lost this round, it would have been a 3 way tie, and that was my only way to win...stupid dice. )

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Critical!

[Silverbit]

Razkai at 5, Orin at 7, and Ben at 6. Wow, that was surprisingly close.