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Bloodsport (Nightmare Descends 2:3A)

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Just as the group began to return to reality, reality started to melt. Colors blended together, the entire world swirled, and the fabric of reality began to unravel.
Great, another bad drug trip, right?

The group would slowly regain their senses, and find that they were definitely not in Yh'mi anymore. Or Kansas. In fact, no one seemed to know where they were. Except maybe one person.


The floor they were standing/sitting/laying on was hard dirt. The walls were enormous, easily 50 feet high. The outer walls, as they could see if they looked up, were over 8 times that size. The area they were now trapped in was equally gigantic, nearly large enough for them to fit a town inside of it.
All of this was minuscule, however, to the deafening sound of the crowd. The group would see that this place was packed. And every single one of them was screaming and cheering and calling for blood. Some of them had very detailed descriptions of what they wanted to happen, none of them were pleasant.

After a few minutes of the cacophonous noise, it all ceased at once. Someone stepped forward in what was clearly the important person's area. He had the best view, and was positioned to where everyone could see him. Upon closer inspection, it would appear to be someone who was maybe 16 or 17. A boy, clearly. Black hair, and golden eyes, his body covered in shimmering gold armor. The group would see a large scythe beside him, the blade dual colored black and bronze.

When the boy spoke, he spoke in a layered voice. One being that of a teenage boy, the other being cold and chilling.

"Welcome, welcome all! Here today, in the Titanic Coliseum, we have for your viewing pleasure, our unwilling victims!"

He gestured to the group, and the crowd erupted again, eager to see these people be torn to pieces. It was abundantly clear that they were not on their side at ALL.

"In just a moment, we will release our first combatants! But first, a moment to allow these dead men standing to make peace with their gods!"

The crowd went silent, allowing for the group to have a moment to gather themselves. This would not last long, however.

Alright, my dear little test subjects. Here's how this world works. You, (and myself) will be pitted against waves and hordes of opponents. The combat rules are normal; roll for your actions, ect. However, there is more.
You, and I, will have various conditions that must be met in each wave. For each person. If these conditions are not met, you will receive a penalty. Penalties include, but are not limited to:
Health damage.
Sanity damage.
Decreased number of actions.
Disability rolls.

Furthermore, remember, you are putting on a show. If your posts fail to entertain the crowd, or the Supreme Emperor, you will receive a penalty.
Attempting to climb the walls, attack the crowd, or attack the Emperor is strictly forbidden. Any attempts to do so will result in every penalty being brought down upon you, and you being ganked by every enemy currently in the arena at the same time.

Teamwork is allowed, and recommended, as after this point, there will be no relief rounds. No breaks. Not until it is finished.
"Ooh, Hollow, thats so cruel"
Yes. Yes it is.

However, in this one round, where we have a moment to contemplate our impending, unavoidable death, any action you take will succeed regardless of sanity levels. So heal up.

Good luck and, try to make your gruesome demise entertaining, will you?


Dan Palmer @HollowCipher

Sheryl @Fierach

Aryssin @sorainvoked

Jack Murray @Tyler

Norkotian squad @Tyler

Surus war elephant @EpicRome23

Ilene @EpicRome23

Leo @Veloci-Rapture

Vlad @P.N.See

Ed @Akiris

Charlie @zackrobbman

Soryn @Dolor Aeternum


Edited by HollowCipher

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Finally, after so many years of murdering, stealing, swooning, and being rejected, Charlie's most sought after dream was finally going to be a reality. He felt like he was about to get the payoff of his life after walking through the gates leading to the Harpy's den. It filled him with so much joy that he almost shed a tear. Almost.

As he and the others entered the den, Charlie started to take off his shirt.

"Alright ladies!" said the young pervert as he began to lift the shirt off his head to expose his surprisingly well-toned body. It didn't always used to look like this, but his boss's training regime was...is bat-s*** insane to use the words of another. And that's an euphemism. "Let's get to it! Re-population rules the nation after all!"

He couldn't see beyond his his shirt as he pulled it above his head, so he didn't notice the change of scenery until it was off. He stood there frozen with a stagnant, smarmy smile, his eyes darting from left to right as he held his shirt above his head. Where were all the avian women? Why weren't they waiting for him? Where were the huts? Did they expect him to work his stamina out in the open? Also, why did their den look like a Colosseum? Where had all these cheering people come from?

"W-...wha..." sputtered Charlie as he threw his shirt to the ground and turned to get a better grasp of their surroundings, his smile deflating. When he noticed that there was no gate or bridge behind him, he started to get really confused. And angry.

"Hey..." he muttered, looking every which way like a cornered rat desperate for a way out. His body temperature began to rise in tandem with his anger until his skin was as hot as an oven. All of that heat had previously been in his pants, so it had to go somewhere. Yes, I know, how metaphorical. "HEY! Where are the-...what's going on!? What the f***!? WHAT THE F***!"

He balled his fist and smoke started to waft up from his body. He gritted his teeth furiously and whipped his glowing hot glare towards the group of people standing with him. He scanned the group for Fidelitas, eager to get in his face about how he'd lied. But the man wasn't there. In fact, a lot of people weren't there. He recognized a few people, but many of them hadn't been with him on the bridge or on the plateau earlier. It was like they'd simply appeared out of thin air while others vanished just the same. His anger flared when he saw a familiar man wearing a baseball cap.

"YOU!" he growled, his voice starting to sound ethereal as he stomped towards Deckel. He grabbed the taller man by the collar of his shirt and shook him violently. "WHAT DID YOU DO!? WHERE ARE THE HOT HARPY BABES!? I KNOW IT WAS YOU! YOU TRIED TO SNATCH THE DROW CHICK BACK AT CAMP! WHERE ARE THEY!? TALK, YOU PIECE OF S***!"



Charlie Smith

HP: -----    5/5

SANITY: -----  5/5 (Color tool was unavailable?)

1 Action:

- Delay Action: +1 Action to Next turn 


- Attack

- Heal

- Meditate

Special Skills

- Area Attack 3/3

- Counter Attack 3/3

-Advanced Buff 3/3


Edited by zackrobbman
Forgot to add an action. :l

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Dan rolled his eyes. Once again, reality was fucking up. That was the last time he let a drink leave his sight with other people around, this was ridiculous.
When they arrived, his snarky attitude melted instantly. The sight, the sound, the air... It was all just like...

"Oh no... No no no no no no no......."
Dan's pupils dilated and he started to hyperventilate. He couldn't be back in the Coliseum. Not again. It burned down when the Lost Regiment rescued him. They destroyed it. 
But he was CLEARLY there. Everything was the same. Even Kronos was looking the same as always.
Dan clutched his head and curled into a ball. Images of past memories that he'd long buried started bubbling back up. How he'd been forced to slaughter other demigods, many his friends. Killing monsters for sport, being chained and beaten if he didn't perform well, simply being chained in a cell if he DID perform well, and when he was forced to kill his-

Dan's breathing accelerated. He couldn't think straight. He started shaking. His vision started blurring.

Kid. Calm down. It's not the same-
"Not again not again not again I cant be here not again anywhere else please anywhere else-"
Calm down.
Cant do it again not again please I don't want the chains I won't run away no I did the best I could-

Dan was snapped out of his mental crisis by The Other Guy. And upon looking at the facts, he was right. If this were the ACTUAL Coliseum, Kronos wouldn't have him fight, he would have Dan executed on the spot. And the Coliseum wasn't even standing now, it was a pile of rock. This must be another illusion world.

Dan crossed his legs, and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. He slowly regained full control of himself, bringing peace of mind and not having a nervous breakdown in front of everyone.


Meditate: +1 Sanity
Meditate: +1 Sanity
Delay action: +1 action next turn.


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Soryn had watched as Fidelitas and the others who followed the paladin surrendered themselves to the harpies while others were allowed to exit some door in the distance. He had instantly regretted not following then as the vertigo that began and this sudden feeling of falling overwhelmed him for what seemed like an eternity. Flashes of the harpies scraping and manipulating the bodies of Fidelitas and the others flooded his senses until Celene was thrust through the door and he was left to endure the instability.

Then he felt his body collide with a sandy floor and the din of the crowd around him fill his ears. Gasping for air as he sat up to a sit, he noticed some familiar faces from the encounter before though there were some he hadn’t had a chance to meet or observe yet. Collecting himself, he listened to the boy announcing their unwilling entry into some sort of coliseum. The feeling of the sand beneath his hands brought back several memories of a past where his blade and not his voice did much of the talking. Turning to see a curled up Dan, he inferred some sort of traumatic trigger had caused the child to react negatively to his surroundings. Moving to a stand, he moved closer to Dan but noticed the resilience of the kid once he began meditating.

Jarred from his analysis of Dan by the sound of Charlie yelling, he shook his head and then finally realized that he could not sense Celene nearby. Great, all that investment by the Daily Weekly and he has already lost his companion. The pained expression on his face was visible but he soon recovered and then took his time analyzing his surroundings without the crutch of technology to guide him. Soryn made his way over to the familiar face that was Vlad who seemed the most wounded of everyone here.

"Let's get you ready to face whatever this is"

A warm light extended from his palm over the more visible wounds the man held to heal him up. This predicament would require everyone to be at their best. Now was when his ability to assess the information at hand would be truly tested.



Delay Action: +1 turn

Heal on Vlad once

Possible Heal up for grabs


Edited by Dolor Aeternum

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Ilene had been fully ready to give the order to fire, to fire the deadly opening barrage at the harpies and give the others the time needed to cross the bridge. But as she opened her mouth to shout, the door seemed to pull her and her Aligorian troops forward. Unable to muster more than an expression of surprise, she hardly resisted the door's pull. And soon, the thoughts of her and her men and her men alike were overridden with elation, with joy, overriding their logical plan of attack. They were closing in on the door. To escape! They were free, and the Shadow King would award them for their fine performances here... probably. On the other side of the door was a blurry image of the camp, and the Aligorians practically dived through it. 

For a minute, they seemed to have returned to the camp. Ilene began to lead her troops to the supply tent, intent on breaking out the booze. Then the camp began to fade, the tantalizing image dissappearing before their eyes. 

By the time the colors faded and the fabric of reality seemed to be stitched back together, Ilene was pissed. Her wicked, curved blade slashed through the air, nearly cleaving one of her allies in half before it came to a stop in the hard dirt below. Her composure began to unravel as she took everything in, and she began to laugh with a tinge of insanity creeping in and intensifying. The secret arena of the Frosts... before Teaville had become Aligoria. This was not that place, but it was enough of a reminder. The Yorks and the Cantus had been pitted against each other, and the last survivors would be spared to work for the Frost regime. Gladiators in all but name, and the females were given no special treatment but what they could win through their own strength. Ilene had only told the Shadow King himself of this part of her past, and he had responded like the great father and great king he was. 

Volke laid a firm and reassuring hand on Ilene's shoulder, and she shook herself back to reality after a minute. She looked around at the poor saps around her. The elephant and it's archers were still here, good. The turret had disappeared, bad. Fidelitas had also disappeared. More bad, but she guessed she was in 'charge' now, being the highest-ranking overall of those she could see in the group. She recognized some of the rest from the group on the plateau, but the rest were new to her. Maybe they had been at the camp as well, when this all started. She raised her voice, letting it wash over the group. 

"We seem to have lost Fidelitas. Unfortunate, the paladin was a decent leader for a diverse group like this. That said, I'm going to establish a semblance of order here, in his stead. You don't have to listen to me, though... that is, if you have a strong desire to play the hero and get ripped to shreds when you're surrounded by enemies."

"So, the main gist here is to not die. If that was our only concern, I would have us form a defensive line in one of the arena corners, our toughest on the outside and all of us with ranged weapons behind them. But unfortunately, sound, logical, well-executed strategy doesn't generate excitement. Our lives depend on being entertaining, on getting the blood of the crowd and Goldy Boy there pumping. Therefore, each of us must play to their strengths. Stick together for teamwork and a general strategy, yes, but don't keep it practical and boring. Embrace some impracticality, make it awesome, make it a spectacle. We'll coordinate first for whatever they send at us, as it comes. Any questions?"

As she finished speaking, Ilene slowly scanned the arena, seeing if she could catch sight of what was about to come and prepare. Her Shadow Guards stode forward and formed a defensive square around her, armbows loaded and at the ready.


Ilene Cantu (and Shadow Guards)

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 5/5

Normal skills: Attack, Defend, Meditate

Special Skills: Distract (4 uses), Advanced Buff (3 uses)

Distract- When used, draws an enemy's attention away so that its first action has to be used to respond to the distraction.


(+3 buff held in reserve, carried over from Acrophobia)

  1. Defend (Avoid one attack next turn)
  2. Defend (Avoid another attack next turn)
  3. Action delayed (+1 action next turn)

Meanwhile, on the platform atop Surus, the ten-man archer crew readied their bows and, similarly to Ilene, scanned the arena for incoming threats. 3-13 smiled enigmatically at the sight before him, and Gordin looked over with a raised eyebrow.

"What's up with you, 3-13?"

"Ah, it's nothing. I'm just recalling the times when I used to frequent arenas like this. Not forced to in order to survive, mind you. But for gold, for experience, and for a bit of fun."

"... Is that where they started calling you 'The Arrow of the Gods'?"

"Titles are earned, you little vulture, not given. Maybe you can earn one too, someday, when you stop being too slow."

"Too slow? You arrogant lug, I-"

Captain Jeorge swiftly clamped a hand over Gordin's mouth, leveling a hard gaze at the boisterous archer. Gordin relaxed after a minute, and Jeorge let him go before addressing the archers.

"Alright boys, it's almost showtime. The crowd will probably find the elephant more entertaining than we would be, so try not to mess with enemies around Surus unless you're confident in pulling off cool slash tricky shots."

He glanced at 3-13 for a moment before speaking again.

"In any case, have the pikes at the ready. They hamstring the elephant beneath us, or otherwise take him down, and we're fucking screwed. We'll want to fend off any bastards who get too close and look like they can get past the armor. And whatever you do, remember, the Shadow King must be proud of us."


Surus (war elephant)

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 5/5

Normal skills: Attack, Buff, Meditate

Special Skills: Trample (4/4 uses), Area Attack (2/3 uses)

Trample- An attack that deals 1 damage and knocks the enemy to the ground. Any one who is knocked down needs to take 1 action to stand up. Can only be used on non-bosses and anything that has a physical body. 


(+3 buff held in reserve, carried over from Acrophobia)

  1. Action delayed (+1 action next turn)
  2. *sad elephant noises*


Edited by EpicRome23

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Jack Murray stirred to the sound of a roaring crowd, and the feeling of a hot, desolate sun upon his face. His eyes opened, and he found himself standing in the center of a dusty arena, dry and bright, like the deserts he had grown up in. It was a welcome change from the humid jungle. In addition, he still felt the lingering effects of a strange elation; the joy that had come from escaping through the door of the plateau an uncertain amount of time ago. Then he remembered. The last thing he recalled was looking back, and seeing all those on the plateau, all of his men, plummet to the depths of the jungle. The artificial euphoria instantly evaporated, and the sudden crushing weight of value fell upon him. For a moment, he could feel nothing but dismay, not so much at the deaths themselves, but at how he had failed them. And then...

"Ow! Get off me!"

"Yer crushin' mah back, pard'ner!"



Murray whirled around, to find a whole pile of bodies stacked up behind him. Not only were the men (and women) he left behind on the plateau there, but also the missing members of his SQUAAAD, such as Scott Deckel and Jessie Briggs. Or he assumed they were all in there, as it looked like a cross between a football pile-up and what happens if you don't wrap up your garden hose carefully enough. Even so, the sight was quite a relief for the ex-bandit, who had seconds before been staring down the reality of having led two squads in a row to their complete annihilation.

"Whoa, I haven't been that dizzy since my sister and I played that drinking game on the County Fair roller coaster!" Melanie was the first one to pop out of the pile, "Hey, wait, where's Charlie? Is he okay? Is he alive? Is he still available? One of those harpy bitches didn't dig her claws into him and drag him off to be married against his will did they? They can't do that! He loves me! I have to go save him!"

She reached into her pocket to pull out the burning heart that Charlie had given her as a token of his affection, which had left her speechless at the moment, yet she had kept and cherished the barbecued organ as though it were a gift bought for her at the most expensive of stores. But when her hand emerged, it was covered in nothing by ash, for the heart had smoldered down to nothing since then.

"NOOOO!!! Charlie, my love! You have been lost forever!" she fell to her knees wailing.

Just then, Charlie brushed literally in front of her face, causing her to blink a moment in confusion. She turned to her left, just in time to see Charlie pull Deckel off the pile and hold him up by the collar. This was naturally rather discombobulating to Scoot, who was still seeing visions of fire and guts dance before his eyes, and the echoes of screams, gunshots and cracking bones echo in his ears. Next thing he knew, he was being hoisted in the air by an angry pyromaniac, railing about hot harpy babes.

"Whoa whoa whao!" Scoot pleaded, "I ain't seen any harpy babes! But, duh... if you point me in their direction, I could relay a message for you!"

He probably would have been incinerated by Charlie right there, if not for the pyromaniac suddenly getting grabbed from behind by another pyromaniac.

"Charlie, you're alive!" Melanie grabbed and hugged him from behind, interfering with Charlie's ability to continue to lift Deckel.

But she wasn't the only one interfering, as another Norkotian stepped into the fray, wielding a large, remarkably sharp looking wrench. One was left to wonder what use a wrench of this design was, except for causing gaping gashes in human flesh.

"You juss put that thing down, mister," Chief pointed at Charlie, but referring to Scoot, "You dunno where's its been!"

Beyond them, the remaining twelve survivors of the two Norkotian squads (this includes five of Chief's men) were untangling themselves from the pile. At the very bottom, having to pull her face out of the dirt with a soft "pop", was Jessie Briggs. The ex-hitwoman was now far too mad to worry about all the ghosts she'd encountered in the previous nightmare.

"If I survive this... I'm going to kill every single one of them... every single one... I won't even charge anyone..." she muttered to herself

Murray smiled slightly, recognizing that almost everyone was here. Well, everyone except Precht and Grunt, and a few NPCs that nobody except their NPC families care about.  It was then that he finally paid closer attention to his surroundings. That's right, they were in the middle of an arena, and not far away, he could see the flying boy, Dan Palmer, on the ground whimpering. Others were also around, in varying degrees of shock, horror, exhaustion or bewilderment. But Murray himself was feeling a bit rejuvenated, so he pulled out one of his pistols and fired it at the sky. The load report caused all the surrounding Norkotians, and probably a few other people nearby, to stop whatever antics they were in the midst of committing, and turn to face the cowboy.

"Now listen up, guys and gals! We may have survived the jungle fall, but we ain't outta this hocus-pocus nonsense yet! Git yer asses together and git ready! We don't know what they got in store fer us next!"

Whether he did that at the same time as Ilene was speaking, or whether it was just before or after, he did it either way. No mere orders or logic was going to get a rambunctious lot like the Norkotians and Charlie in order, after all. Someone needed to get through their thick skulls first, at the point of a gun if need be, and Jack Murray felt himself the man to do just that.


Name: Jack Murray

Health: 5

Sanity: 5

Action 1 - Mass Rally ( @Tyler - SQUAAAD | @Dolor Aeternum - Soryn Savedo | @Veloci-Rapture - Leo Manville | 2 open) = auto-success

Action 2 - Delayed Action


Health: 3

Sanity: 4 +1 next round

Action 1 - No actions yet


Edited by Tyler

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....Nnnnngh. Hrrr. Huh... wh... what?

Vlad woke up lying face down on a solid ground. It was fairly warm and dry, unlike those muddy plains around Furthest Point. As he was slowly coming to his senses, his ears were filled with a loud uproar. He slowly lifted himself on his knees, then stopped short, paralyzed by a sudden pain in his back and his right side. Vlad had to use his left arm as a support before he rose on both his feet. And only then, through the pain still piercing his brain, Vlad was able to assess the surroundings, which differed greatly from the underground slaughterhouse.

Much to Vlad's dismay, this was not the Bloodwatch Fort. It was something else, like... an Arena. The titanic construction he appeared to be in the middle of was full of people (or perhaps creatures resembling people from such a long distance), which were the source of the noise. Vlad looked around further and found himself among several people, just as confused as him. He managed to recognize some of them as those one from the fort and even from the initial expedition. There was Soryn, the reporter, there was captain Murray, the norkotian who gave him a shotgun...

Speaking of which...

A sense of something lost had overwhelmed the patian engineer. He looked down and turned from side to side, suffering from a short panic attack.

My... my gun!? Where is- Oh...

As he focused, Vlad realized he was holding his rifle all along. Not only that, but the chain mail and rest of his equipment was on him fully intact (even though he couldn't remember any of it being destroyed or lost). Even the turret-linked headset was still on him. Overall, Vlad felt himself the same way as he woke up last time in Bloodfort - perhaps, even calmer than before. However, the searing pain across his back an specifically his right arm were indicating on some prior injury that wasn't healed up properly. He patted his back but sensed no scars or wounds. Then he rolled the sleeve on his right arm and noticed several thread-like internal bruises across it...

And then he remembered.

"I said, GIVE ME THE HAND!!!"

He remembered the woman entrapped by the monster with crimson tendrils. He remembered how he slid down the bloodfall, grabbed her and hung on the spear he had plunged into the tilted floor seconds later. He remembered how he struggled to pull her away and hold onto the spear at the same time. He remembered the eerily familiar sensation of onyx veins crawling under his skin from the arm, the excruciating pain. And then... the spear had suddenly dislodged, and they fell down into the reddish abyss. Then everything became white and---

Welcome, welcome all!

A thunderous voice made Vlad snap out of his flashback. It bore tones of a joyful child and a malevolent adult - all at the same time, which was unsettling enough. The speech that followed had implied that everyone on the arena (Vlad included) were none other than combatants. So far these illusions-or-not-illusions were leaving no room for more peaceful approach.

Vlad shifted his focus toward his partners in misfortune. Murray was communicating with some mercenaries of questionable adequacy. Vlad assumed this must be a fresh replacement for the squad that fell during the expedition. The cap guy named Deckel was the former squad's sole survivor and basically the one that saved Vlad from the twistling's assault. At the moment he was confronting with a pyromancer that was shouting about "hot harpy babies". Vlad silently shrugged. He had no motivation to figure out whatever was happening in that guy's head.

Vlad then turned his attention toward Soryn. The reporter at the same time walked toward the engineer and conjured some type of spell on him. Vlad felt the back pain disappearing, as well as the vein traces on his arm. He nodded at Soryn as a token of gratitude.

"Thanks. I owe you that one."
After a brief pause he continued: "Hallucination or not, it's strange we're getting scrambled that much. Have you seen the rest of the camp? And by the way, where's that recording device of yours?"

But before Soryn could reply, Vlad's attention had been drawn by the voice of a woman in black armor. Vlad recalled that he saw her and the members of so-called Aligorian Shadow Guard in a small camp outside Inns'th. Vlad could see no tangible connection between those Shadow Guards and the Order and whether their interests were mutual. 

It appeared, though, that the woman had taken the command in this particular situation, implying that Fidelitas, the expedition leader, was missing. Her plan was straightforward: "entertain" the crowd and do not kick the bucket in the process. She explained it in such detail Vlad had the impression she either knew exactly what was going to happen or she had been partaking of arena battles in the past. Either way, he still had unresolved questions. One of them was about what right she had to be in charge. But given the disadvantage in equipment, he decided to keep his mouth shut about that particular topic.

She told the group: "Embrace some impracticality, make it awesome, make it a spectacle. We'll coordinate first for whatever they send at us, as it comes. Any questions?"

"Actually, I do have a question." - Vlad replied. - "What do you mean exactly by a spectacle? We are mercenaries, not jesters. Don't know where you've been, but I went through literal hell, and I'm not-" - he looked back at the boy in a golden garment and lowered his voice to whisper. - "And I'm not entitled to prance before some spoiled little brat unless I know exactly what we're up against."


=== Vlad Nassar ===

Alive Calm

HP: █ █ █ █ █ | 5/5
SP: █ █ █ █  | 5/5
AP:  █      | 3/3


Counter-Attack: █ █  | 2/3
Adv. Buff:      █ █ █ | 3/3
Mass Healing:   █ █ █ | 3/3


- Delay Action       | +1 AP next turn | 1 AP
                     └───── Sanity full, action is successful 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Delayed an action (would be able to perform up to 4 actions next turn)


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8 hours ago, Tyler said:

"Whoa whoa whao!" Scoot pleaded, "I ain't seen any harpy babes! But, duh... if you point me in their direction, I could relay a message for you!"

The glow in Charlies eyes turned from white hot to a sinister shade of orange as his anger reached well beyond his moral threshold, something that wasn't difficult to cause when women were involved. Charlie clenched Deckel's shirt even tighter as his hands glowed orange hot.

"RELAY THIS." he stated as he aimed a flaming palm at the man's head. The fire surrounding his hand morphed and shifted unnaturally as it lit up Deckel's face. One might even start to see things in it when they've experienced things like the Norkotian mercenary had previously encountered, but that's not for me to say.

Before Charlie could do the deed, he was grabbed from behind in a powerful hug that threatened to squeeze the air out of his lungs.

8 hours ago, Tyler said:

"Charlie, you're alive!"

"Hey, what the he-" started Charlie before he noticed something that made his words catch in his throat. Something soft was pressing into his back. No...two soft somethings. Automatically and without the slightest hint of hesitation, he scoured his mind and sifted through the mental catalogue he'd made of over a thousand female, bosoms. He'd committed each and every single one he'd seen to memory in frightening detail, even having near perfect numerical estimates of their varying sizes and dimensions as well as dates and times. His mind ran a few tests to account for how they were being compressed onto his back and came up with numbers that only pointed to one woman.

"Oh...Melanie!" said Charlie, his burning anger immediately subsiding with a literal hiss. His eyes were now back to normal, concealed and dark behind the brim of his hat.

8 hours ago, Tyler said:

"You juss put that thing down, mister,"

Charlie looked over to a man who was wielding an unusually jagged and club-like wrench. It could probably be used to fix machinery and such, but he got the feeling that it was seldom used for anything other than busting a structurally superfluous hole in someones skull. He pointed at Charlie with the wrench, making the pyromaniac a little uneasy.

8 hours ago, Tyler said:

"You dunno where's its been!"

Charlie looked at the man for a bit. Then he looked at Deckel. He promptly let go and let the Norkotian fall to the ground face-first.

"Right, right." said Charlie before twisting around in Melanie's grasp to look her in the eyes. "Wouldn't want to get that things tiny, smoldering, brains all over that crazy beautiful face, now would we?"

He returned Melanie's hug, lingering a bit too long for obvious reasons. He wanted to grab her hind quarters, but he seldom got this close to any woman and didn't want to screw it up. Again. There would be time for that later. If things went as planned, she'd be copping feels on him. He started to snicker as he played out several sexy scenarios in his mind before clearing his throat and refocusing his mind.

"By the way!" said Charlie before pulling away and gesturing excitedly. "The way you torched that one harpy chick? Gorgeous! The way you lingered the blast on it's midsection to let it feel it's intestines roasting, the way it screamed as you burned away its wings and made it desperately try to flap them, how you put just enough force into the blast to let it feel the burn without instantly vaporizing her? Brilliance! You know what it's about! We should totally-"

A gunshot from Murray's colt echoed throughout the coliseum and made him turn his head to see who fired.

8 hours ago, Tyler said:

"Now listen up, guys and gals! We may have survived the jungle fall, but we ain't outta this hocus-pocus nonsense yet! Git yer asses together and git ready! We don't know what they got in store fer us next!"

Before Charlie could ask the sergeant just how much he valued Deckel's life and if he would miss him later on, Ilene began speaking as well.

8 hours ago, EpicRome23 said:

"So, the main gist here is to not die. If that was our only concern, I would have us form a defensive line in one of the arena corners, our toughest on the outside and all of us with ranged weapons behind them. But unfortunately, sound, logical, well-executed strategy doesn't generate excitement. Our lives depend on being entertaining, on getting the blood of the crowd and Goldy Boy there pumping. Therefore, each of us must play to their strengths. Stick together for teamwork and a general strategy, yes, but don't keep it practical and boring. Embrace some impracticality, make it awesome, make it a spectacle. We'll coordinate first for whatever they send at us, as it comes. Any questions?"

"A spectacle huh?" said Charlie as he scratched his chin with a shady grin. Showing off was one of his favorite things to do. Especially when it entailed the loss of life. To him, life was only a spectacle when it was burning. And screaming. He looked over to Melanie. "I've got a few ideas. You?"

(Just a flavor post)

Edited by zackrobbman

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A thirty year old fairy with spiky blonde hair who weighed seventy three kilograms and stood five feet eleven inches tall awoke lying prone in the center space of an expansive, towering coliseum with a dirt floor.

Using his right hand to hold onto the handle of a six feet long, three feet wide metal sword with a death grip, he got up and spat.

Hearing an eerie announcement, he looked around the arena, noticing some other persons inside of it, all total strangers to him.

Remaining calm, dark energy seething through his veins, he clutched his sword tightly, readying himself for combat.

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Somehow this was working. Sure they all looked dysfunctional as hell, and to be fair.... that was still a completely accurate assessment. But somehow it worked.

Well, the bar wasn't exactly high from can't figure out how to protect some wagons.

But there was this thing about trying to eliminate your enemies by utilizing a trial by fire. The non-deadweight/liabilities tend to survive the purge. Ed figured that the fact that everyone was attentively working together to actually patch each other up was proof of that and he'd expected that one of those thankful for this would be himself if not for.......

Seriously, what the literal fuck had happened back there!? Sure he felt fine, but one word to the paladins would not be good for his health. Unless you counted cardio with some very lethal incentive to run fast.There was only one thing to do. Never mention the event. Failing that, mimic Deckel and claim cluelessness.

Ah well, here comes round two. Might as well be ready.



HP: 5

San: 5



Buff (+2 total)

Saved action


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On 9/3/2019 at 4:02 PM, P.N.See said:

"Actually, I do have a question." - Vlad replied. - "What do you mean exactly by a spectacle? We are mercenaries, not jesters. Don't know where you've been, but I went through literal hell, and I'm not-" - he looked back at the boy in a golden garment and lowered his voice to whisper. - "And I'm not entitled to prance before some spoiled little brat unless I know exactly what we're up against."



Vlad would swear he hadn't even seen Ilene move before she was suddenly right in front of him, the tip of her dark, wicked curved blade pressed lightly against his throat. She lifted her mask-helm with her free hand just enough to reveal an, eerie, knowing grin... one that screamed that Vlad really should have kept his mouth shut here, or chosen his words more carefully.

"You know exactly what I mean by a spectacle. You stab a man and he falls over and bleeds out on the ground, he's dead but it ain't exciting. Add spins and the like to your blows, maybe take the arms or legs off before you get a nice thrust that pins 'em to the sand below and snuffs out their miserable life?"

A small laugh escaped for a moment.

"Now that's a spectacle. As for hell, one is either forged in the infernal flames or consumed by them. If you're a weak little bastard and your mind can't handle the demons and the heat even after the fact, well, cannon fodder can always be worked into the strategy."

Her blade pressed ever so slightly forward, drawing a drop of blood from Vlad.

"As for where I've been, I wouldn't say being stuck on a relatively small plateau with a ton of people and a war elephant is any fun. Especially when the only exit was a shitty rope bridge that lead straight into a plateau full of harpies ready and willing to tear all of us to shreds. We only escaped by acquiescing to their demands of sending three people to be their mates and leaving everyone else stuck on the first plateau in order to let a handful of people through a very out-of-place door. I was among the group that went through the door. It showed us an image of the camp, and brought us back there for a moment before indulging in cruelty and bringing us here."

"And what you're entitled to is drowning yourself in the delusion that you're leaving this arena the same as you came in. You leave only with a pile of corpses in your wake, or as a corpse yourself. You see Goldy Boy up there? I can tell from here he's an arrogant little shit, but I can also tell that he's got power. Fail to amuse him or the crowd, and I bet he'll ruin your day. He'll hurt you, he'll weaken you, he'll control every damn enemy we're facing to pile onto you, and most certainly kill you if the others don't intervene."

She turned her gaze up towards the aforementioned boy and the crowd, lowering her blade from Vlad's throat.

"I've been through the likes of this before. Not exactly the same, mind, but these places hit all the same beats. I know enough of what to expect, though Neque knows I would much rather be anywhere else. Hell, I'd take my chances in that 'literal hell' you said you went through. But anyways, follow my lead, and you might just survive. You'll be scarred, bloody, and changed, but alive."

(Flavor post)

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"A spectacle huh? I've got a few ideas. You?"

Melanie, at least for the moment, seemed mentally coherent enough to register what was being asked by Charlie, and she smiled insanely at the implication.

"Oh yeah. It seems to me that this sporting event..."

She clearly recognized the place as a stadium of sorts, as there were at least a few of these back home in Norkotia. Of course, in Norkotia, these were usually used to host football or baseball teams, or rock bands, not blood sports. But regardless, she knew the one thing all the Norkotian events had in common that this stadium lacked.

"...needs some serious pyrotechnics!"

Flicking a switch on her flamethrower, the blue pilot flame came to life, and the crazy woman promptly blew some fire into the air uselessly. As if it wasn't hot enough down here as it was.

"Don't waste ammunition!" Murray barked, "Everyone load up and read yourselves! Let show 'em we can play rough with the worst of 'em!"

The Norkotians checked over their weapons. Those members of the SQUAAAD who had been in the hell-like nightmare were mostly out of ammunition, but luckily men and women (which included several engineers) from the jungle plateau nightmare still had their full load. Ammo sharing was subsequently done, as the men and women of the distance muggle nation steeled themselves for whatever mystical shenanigans Yh'mi had in store for them next. All that was needed was Frank Wilhelms Jr. singing his "Are you eager for some football!" theme, and this game was ready to kickoff!*

* - The NFL season just started yesterday. Can you tell what I am in the mood for?



Health: 3

Sanity: 4 +1 next round

Action 1 - Buff (+1 to next round): 6 = Success

Action 2 - Delayed Action


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Horror and blood and chaos had melted around Leo like a painting splashed with turpentine, only to be reformed by a new artist; less deranged, perhaps, but no less sadistic.

The arena rose up around him, towering over the three-foot halfling like the sky-scraping buildings in Ignatz, and the roar of the crowd seated therein threatened to deafen him. Over that din rose the voice of a single person, a voice filled with such jarring dichotomy that Leo shivered. 


On 8/29/2019 at 3:01 AM, HollowCipher said:

"Welcome, welcome all! Here today, in the Titanic Coliseum, we have for your viewing pleasure, our unwilling victims!"

"In just a moment, we will release our first combatants! But first, a moment to allow these dead men standing to make peace with their gods!"


Leo hefted his warhammer up onto his shoulder and looked at others trapped in the arena with him. He recognized Ed, and a couple of others, but the rest hadn't been present in the hellscape he'd just left behind. That place had been a hot, horrifying maze, but it at least held the promise of escape. There was no such comfort, false or otherwise, here. 

"This kid wants a show? Well Leo Manville will give him the best show he's ever SEEN!"

The halfling took a deep breath, and thrust his warhammer into the sky like a tiny conqueror celebrating an inevitable victory, his voice rising above the cacophony: "GAIA'S STRENGTH WILL PREVAIL!"

His corded muscles flexed and his skin seemed to shine briefly with a golden light. Leo held the pose for five, six, seven seconds, letting the crowd and his compatriots see what true manly confidence looked like. Then he exhaled, bringing his hammer back down across his body in a two-handed, wide-legged defensive stance. "BRING IT ON!"



Leo Manville

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 4/5


Buff (9 - Success!) +1 to a roll

Buff (9 - Success!) +2 to a roll

Delay Action (+1 Action next turn)

[Really wish I could  draw a Conan The Barbarian style picture of Leo with his hammer] 


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The flames blurred Sheryl's vision, and she dashed out of the room after the others, only to realize a completely unexpected sight upon opening her eyes. There was no undead horror, no flaming ghoul, no room enraptured in fire, but they were in an arena. As sound returned to her, she could make out the sounds to go with the sight, that thousands of individuals cheering, whooping and hollering. Another illusion? She patted her clothes, noting the singed edges. That was real. This was likely real as well. 

Amidst everybody else, Sheryl Wainwright sat down to relax and go through her pack, making sure to equip the armor she had brought and to drink water that she had brought with her. She took the enemy lead's words seriously. If this was a Colosseum, then she best catch her breathe when she could. The Force Majeure Knight glanced around, ever alert. She didn't immediately recognize most of her new companions. Other people from Bloodwatch perhaps? Was the site undergoing a mass hysteria? She wondered briefly what trials that they had undergone, as she had not seen any of them in the undead infested deep dungeons.

As she watched one of them, a lecher named Charlie almost attack the Norkortians over something called "harpy babes"... she decided that it was best not to dwell on it.



Name: Sheryl Wainwright

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 5/5

Normal skills: Attack (Replaced Taunt), Meditate, Defend

Special Skills: Mass Healing (3 uses), Counter-Attack (3 uses), Area Attack (3 uses)





Action 1: Delay Action

Action 2: Defend

Action 3: N/A



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Snapping awake. That was the worst feeling in the world, and it was not the first time Aryssin had done it in the last few days. The last time she did, she found herself taking a mini dirt nap, then soon after, facing harpies that were trying to eat them for dinner. Lucky for her, she was reed thin; when they said she was merely skin and bones, they were not kidding in her case. For some reason she lost track of what happened. "By the Gods, what the hell did they put into the stew," she thought to herself before struggling to her feet. Her nap had caused her some of her movement faculties to fall asleep for a bit, but after some pounding of her thighs to get the blood flow there (and plenty of needles and pins pricking her too) she steadied herself.

Staring around at the environment, she slowly took in where she was. Sand? Check. Rocks? Check. People cheering? Check. 

Wait a minute. People cheering..?

She knew instinctively where she was. This was a colosseum of some sort, that she had read before in the libraries of Lefell. These were barbaric places, full of death and mayhem. Something stirred in her. Something primal.

She was looking forward to something like this. 

Sitting down and crossing her legs, she let her mind calm down for a bit. In her excited state, she knew she was bound to do something that would be detrimental to herself; that would not be in her best interests. Finding her breath, she focused, noticing each breath as it went in and out of her body. This act calmed her down substantially, granting her clarity in the face of danger. Slowly she began channeling some of her magic into her gauntlets, which gave off a subtle, soothing warmth. When she felt sufficiently ready, she picked up her items, only to realise...

"Where the heck are my black arrows!?" she bellowed.



Name: Aryssin

HP: 5/5

Sanity: 5/5 (after Meditate)


Roll 1: Meditate (Roll 6 - Success!)

Buff +1 (Action Success!)

Delay Action x 1  

Normal Actions for Aryssin this game: Meditate, Buff, Heal
Special Actions for Aryssin this game: Mass Heal, Counter Attack, Advanced Buff 


Edited by sorainvoked

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