"Clean shots to the head and torso score a point," Thel explains, "Clean meaning unblocked or undeflected. Were I to block a swing at my head with my hand, it would not get the point, and if you were to knock my rapier off course, even if it touched your chest, I would recieve no point. We reset after every point. First to, say, two or three, would be the winner. Sound fine to you?"
It's honestly quite a shrewd play on Thel's part. He'd be at a disadvantage fighting to submission with a fencing foil, regardless of how strong it is. Sports rules give him the advantage, or at least even it out.
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Assuming Thel can't close the distance. "Then you must be very ready indeed," he says tensing up his legs. Thel starts thing of with a step forward on his long legs and throwing a hard poke at Rogar's chest with his weapon. No sense in fiddling about fancy stuff right off the bat.
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Rogar slams his staff down, twisting it the other way, making it shorter but thicker, which gives it the width needed to throw the foil off target, through it still hits him.
He then swings his staff at Thel's right shoulder, trying to deliver a blow that will stun Thel long enough for a follow through wack to Thel's chest.
Thel pulls back slightly after his strike is deflected. Not far enough to dodge the staff strike, so he blocks it with his arm, and dodges to the side to get out of the way of the chest shot. "Fancy staff, sir," He remarks casually as he rather aims a poke at Rogar's cheek.
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Rogar twists the staff again, making it longer to try to catch the blade of the foil and then to stike at Thel's chest when the foil is out of the way.
Thel manages to get his free forearm to his chest in time and takes the staff blow there. He's forced backwards by the blow, but continues backwards to get distance from Rogar. He shakes his arm and pats his chest. "No I don't bally well suspect a stick could do that to me all by itself. Ah well, have at you!" In a very speedy run that seems to be half human-sprinting and half hare-leaping he tries to run around Rogar, but maintain his berth. Unconventional weapons calls for unconventional style.
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Rogar stands still while Thel runs around him, trusting to the large case on his back to prevent an attack from the rear. Hmm, too far away without leaving myself open, and too fast for that kind of trick. Ah, that might work.
Rogar adjusts his stance and waits for Thel to make his attack. When Thul moves in for a strike, Rogar plans on trying to sweeping his staff to knock him to the ground.
"Hm... I see. So this is something that will change as you gain experiences and skills, then?"
My name? Maybe.
She looks around awkwardly.
It's kinda weird talking to a knife. Do you have a person form?
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This is the thief who likes to hoard,
That loves the bard with the puppet Lord
That admires the fighter with the green-hilted sword,
That employs the Wizard, whose bird is ignored,
That has the gender unexplored
That intrigues the Halfling, usually bored,
That slew a mountain of the goblin horde,
That follows the cleric,
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That guards the snarl,
That lives in the prison the gods built.
Thel circles around until he's at at Rogar's five o' clock, then like lightning he leaps forward closing the distance almost immediately, and strikes. Rather than going for a poke he flicks his foil to act like a swinging switch. He aims for Rogar's calf, attempting to distract with a powerful sting before going for the point.
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Harnel looks at the moon skeptically, "Well, that's certainly somewhat creepy. Still like something out of a cheesy story though." He continues to move forward into the mire, regardless of it sucking at his legs; leeches can't get at him through his scales, and if his legs get stuck, he can fly out. He'll try to stick to dryer ground, though.
[Arcadia]
As he starts to move through the forest he can feel like if the tree branches are reaching for him, tearing in his clothes and armor. But as he looks there is no movement beyond his own and the one of the dryad. "These trees are weird." She comments while giving them a skeptical look, shivering slightly as a cold breeze causes the few leaves which still remain to rustle.
As soon as Harnel is a few steps out, he can immediately feel himself sinking as the swamp gives in to his weight with a audible blorp. The swamp water feels very cold to touch and the half-dragon might soon realize these swamps are not much of an improvement from the icy mountain top he just left.
"I mean, they look like trees but they're not. It's like they're accessories or something, just there to look spooky." She continues as they go deeper into the swamp, the red eyes of the moon seemingly following every step they take.
The swamp isn't easy to traverse as the water is pretty deep, sometimes even up to his chest which to the dryad is impossible to go through, she will instead attempt to ride on Harnel's shoulders. "Hey, by the way, do you think I'm hot?" She asks out of nowhere as they approach a very large tree somewhere in the swamp.
when the water is too deep for the dryad, Harnel will carry her, certainly. He doesn't really falter when she asks that question, "Where did that come from?" if there's dry ground around the large tree, Harnel will stop to ask this question. If he's still in the water, though, he'll keep moving. It's pretty cold after all.
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"I'm curious!" She exclaims, "Considering I'm sitting naked on top of you and all..." She says in a strangely suggestive voice as they are reaching the tree.
The tree is actually a cypress tree with it's roots plunged deep into the murky swamp waters so there isn't any dry land anywhere near. It's an ancient-looking tree, far larger than any ordinary cypress tree with bark as black as coal and branches reaching out like freakish fingers in every direction.
It might also be at this point the half-dragon might realize he and the dryad are suddenly surrounded by a thick milky mist which somehow just have appeared out of nowhere.
Yikes. With that, Jacob's helmet simply slides off, revealing a face that is neither excited nor disappointed, but simply solemn. The blade retracts from the wound inflicted with no further damage, and he immediately attempts to dose her with multiple healing potions, taken from the storage area within his armor. Hopefully those should stop the bleeding and fix the more life-threatening injuries.
"You fought honorably, if recklessly. It was an honor to duel you, and I apologize for the pain I must have caused."
With that, he attempts to carefully remove her Katana from his innards, and should be successful unless there's something that prevents him from doing so, before handing it back to her.
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A person in white a outfit rushes from the side of the arena, moving through a hidden door in the wall. He's carrying a pair of potions, one for each combatant, and he'll hand one to each. They smell of nutmeg, and should they be imbibed, will regenerate all the wounds dealt during the course of the battle over twenty seconds.
"Our Winner is Jacob!" Harnel says from the Judge's box, using the microphone again, "Please proceed back to the waiting room. Lucy, though you are now out of the tournament, you may choose to stay, either within the stands or returning to the waiting room." He looks down towards the Roster once more, before saying, "Our next combat will be between Rogar and Thelonius!"
"Thank you. You were fun to fight against," Lucy says, after the healing potions take effect. And she bows formally - still wincing a bit - before bowing to the crowd and heading to the stands. She wants to watch the rest of the fight!
Rogar's leg gets hit, he's not fast enough to block that strike, and with the momentany distraction, Thel gets a hit in.
"Errr, First point to you."
Okay, that does it, Thel's too fast to fight straight foward. So, when Thel goes back to the ready position, Rogar puts the green staff back in the case and pulls out a brown staff with a odd looping pattern on it.
"Actually we skipped over the decision for two or three points, chap. Care to agree on that while we reset?" Thel says, taking a steps back from Rogar to get about the same distance as when they started last round. "And just what does that stick do?"
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Rogar starts spinning the staff in a figure eight pattern, causing the staff to emit a droning sound. Now, there's something special about that the droning, its tends to put things with better than human hearing into a trancelike state.
Gordon made this staff for Rogar to help him deal with misbelieving catwalks, so that's why he has this staff. Normally, he wouldn't use it in a fight, its not really meant for hitting things, but with the fact that Thel has rabbit ears, it should have a good shot at putting Thel into that trance, but it might not work.
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Last edited by ThePhantom : 10-30-2012 at 09:46 PM.
I've looked it up, and rabbits, and likely by extension, hares, have better hearing than humans. Seems this trick works. As the stick spins, Thelonious is overcome by a state of trance. His guard lowers and his head is lightly moving in pattern with the staff, following the figure eight.
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The young man enters the sandy ground. His opponent doesn't seem to be here right now. He takes off the earthbreaker from his back and places it next to him. loosing that weight makes it easier to stand, if the full plate wasn't so heavy as well. He just hopes the fight starts soon.
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Excellent. Rogar keeps spinning the staff while getting closer to Thel, then swings the staff to try to lightly tap Thel's chest.
Thel takes the tap on his chest. "I... What just..." he says in confusion. "That was your point wasn't it?" He says, a tinge of annoyance audible under his face mask.
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A lesser hare would complain. It's not like he could turn off his legs. "Alright, One-one. Not nearly over yet." He takes his dance and tense his legs ready to leap.
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Rogar lowers one end of the staff, ready to sweep it upwards at the incoming Thel while Rogar slides to the ground. After all, this should hopefully allow the greater reach of the staff to counter Thel's speed.
Cue arrival of the last contestant. Late only in the most fashionable of senses, of course. He's a burly man, and tall, like, with a mean aggressive stooped over posture that is not helped by his shaggy mane of black hair and unkempt mustache over an unshaven face. He's dressed in an eclectic combination of scale mail and plate bits tied with leather cords to heavily wine-stained furs, and a series of belts serve as anchor to a wide array of hanging hatchets, daggers, throwing knives, throwing axes and razors woven into the edges of his furs. Across his back are a large crossbow and a huge, bloodstained maul. A quiver of home-made bolts hangs from one hip, and he smells rather strongly of liquor, sweat and stale tobacco. "Righ', sho where'sh th' fightin' at?" Says the man in slightly-more-than-tipsy tones, his voice bearing the grating character of a wood-rasp scraping across asphalt. "I'mma ready for any takersh. Come a' me if ye think yer man enough!"
He grins with crooked, yellow and black teeth.
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Rogar lowers one end of the staff, ready to sweep it upwards at the incoming Thel while Rogar slides to the ground. After all, this should hopefully allow the greater reach of the staff to counter Thel's speed.
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Thel dashes at Rogar, as fast as he can, which suffice to say is in the realm of "Pretty Darn." At the last second, he sidesteps mid run and lunges with a poke at Rogar. Fighting from angles, seems to be his strategy for this fight.
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Well, with Rogar going down and Thel going to the side, it looks like both of them missed each other.
Okay down on the ground, not the best position, but workable. After all, Thel's can't come from the back, so now it comes to how well Rogar staffwork can keep Thel's blade away. Therefore, he starts moving his staff in defense pattern, to try to block any strike from the foil until Rogar can get the case off his back.