~Welcome to the Sonic Blast Community Forum~
Greetings stranger, it is an honor to have you as a visitor. Since we opened in 2006 our goal has been to offer the most authentic Sonic-themed community on the web for Sonic enthusiasts new and old. We do our best to provide the most unique features, best Sonic-themed designs, and have the latest news; always improving to cover all of your Sonic needs. Our community is full of friendly people and we hope you enjoy your brief stay but would be thrilled if you decided to join in on the fun. Being a part of our community is easy, quick, and absolutely free.

Click here to join our community and enter the land of Mobius as a =SB= citizen!
Citizens may log in to their account to participate in our land's conversations and access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Locked Topic
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 2
  • 4
Round 1: Garret Ranson vs. "Cy-Fox"; Location: Arena Eight
Topic Started: Feb 12 2011, 06:00 PM (1,424 Views)
Lord Talancir D'Landior Feb 12 2011, 06:00 PM Post #1
Member Avatar
~ RP Knight ~

 The sun arose the next morning over a whitened landscape. The cafeteria had prepared a light breakfast for those who wished to eat before their fight, and bonfire pits had been dug at intervals into the ground. The snowstorm had largely blown itself out; only a slight flurry floated gently downward from the sky. The door to the arena battlegrounds stood closed, and Auriel stood silently in front of them, his gauntleted hands clasped behind his waist.

When all were gathered, he spoke,

"There be one o' ye who'll be th' Champion this time 'round. Many o' ye'll fight fer it, but only one'll claim it. Oi pose these questions t' ye: Who then 'as th' right t' call us victor? O' who'll th' poets adore in prose an' song when th' dust 'as settled? 'Tis naught but th' roaring crowd, th' audience who takes note; th' final opinion that crowns heroes an' makes tyrants rot in cold dungeons. D' ye 'ear 'em? D' ye 'ear their clamour?"

Auriel raised a hand above him; at this signal, choreographed fireworks soared up from the castle turret in the middle of the battleground, and split the air with thunder and noise. The audience in the nearby distance roared their approval.

Auriel let his arm fall to his side, and glanced up and down the group of assembled warriors. "Go, an' win glory fer yerself, yer family, country, or whomever. Yer destiny awaits." The doors behind him opened to reveal a stone passageway, held up by reinforced wood buttresses and lit by brass lanterns.

Inside the hallway were doors, next to which heralds were standing, calling out names.

"You there! Are you Garret Ranson? Oh, I should hope so. And you, you must be Miles William Prower...? Yes, that's you; I recognize you from Ser Auriel's description. Oh, I hope we'll not offend if we just refer to you by your nom du guerre. Come on then, let's get you two in your places."

The herald promptly leads you to the arena, the snow crunching under his paws. There as a layer of snow about four inches thick, covering what appeared to be a layer of peat and gravel. Wooden logs were posted up from the ground, seemingly at random and offering a modicum of cover. To counter the heat, eight large iron braziers on metal legs were set against the perimeter of the arena, blazing hot from the fires that had been burning in them since early morning. The snow under them had already melted, turning the peat into a thick, muddy bog several feet out from the braziers.


"When I say, you'll head to the opposite sides of the arena, you two. Next to the fenceposts, I've got them marked. You, stand there, and you over there. Now then, you've understood that you've ten blows on your opponent to win. Torso (that includes the shoulders, mind) and thighs count as one strike, the head, two. Only seven points to be counted by ranged. If you've a mind to surrender, shout your intentions, that the judges, your opponent, and myself can hear them. Do you two understand?" After hearing the replies, the herald nodded, and turned to the arena audience.

"My Lords, My Ladies, welcome to the first round of the Fourth SB Tournament! Announcing their debut match, I give you Garret Ranson and Cy-Fox!"

The audience erupted in applause and cheering, and the fanfare horns blew their salutation. Bowing, the herald turned to the combatants. "Head to your starting positions, salute your opponent, then begin!"
Edited by Talancir D'Landior, Feb 12 2011, 07:57 PM.
Posted Image
RP Aid: So, you want to be a storyteller? A must read for any Storyteller who wants to be better at his craft.

RP Aid: Combat: A Comprehensive Guide to Beating Arse

By the way, I'm on skype. Search for talancir.
Millstone of Time Resources
Offline Mini Profile
 
Replies:
Zak Mar 25 2011, 03:16 PM Post #46
Member Avatar
For The Circle
 "yeah sure...whatever." Garret muttered still doing the impatient thing. Maybe if the tournament had been about frowning he'd have done better.
"Ati Ramar, In defeat we learn."
Offline Mini Profile
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · =SB= Tournament 4 · Next Topic »
Locked Topic
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 2
  • 4