Rumble on RPA DreamLand vs Kamakazikid8 (J Nazgul)

[John]

Nazgul stood in the middle of the arena, his metal boots sinking in the wet sand. The arena itself was mostly unremarkable. The sand, which stretched out was wet and small green plants were growing out fo it in various locations.

The arena itself was enclosed in a circular glass dome with a diameter of about one thousand feet and a height of 100 feet. On the other side of the glass, various species of fish swam by. Nazgul smiled and with a wave of his hand, the two combatants appeared in front of him.

"Fight until one of you falls," Nazgul's voice hissed form beneath his tattered hood. "And try not to break the glass. I would hate for either of you to sleep with the fishes. " Nazgul laughed and then disappeared form view, leaving the combatants alone in the underwater dome.

(this battle will complete in ten days or once you have posted ten times each. After you have each posted five times, wait for the judge to post before proceeding)

[PantsTheReaper]

Alron blinked. "Well," he said, "that was anti-" His words were stopped as the world shattered around him, sending him tumbling into an empty void. "SHIIIIIIIIIII-GUGH!" Wet sand. Well, I could've done worse... He picked himself up and started brushing the sand from his front and lifted the bottom of his mask to clean the inside. My wounds are gone and the potion is restored. His hand brushed his belt. My bolts are all there too.

"So is that it? You dumped me on the beach good as new?" He looked and froze. Above him swam fish, some of which Alron had never seen. "Well. Damn. And underwater arena now? Well, I suppose its my element." Alron drew his axes and faced his opponent. A man? A woman? A golem? It was hard to tell with the odd mask and coat.

"So, friend, we need to fight. Let's get this started like a real arena." He charged the Lighting Rod, making sparks jump from the ends of his axes and declared in a booming voice, "I am Alron! He who sees my axe shall crumble to dust! I have killed scores of men, women, and monsters alike!" Alron's axes crashed together above his head with a clang. "I am Master of Arenas, Thief of Dungeons, and Lord of Adventurers! My name rings through history louder than any king's! Now speak! Let me know the name of the next man who's blood my axes drink."

A touch long-winded and dramatic, but that was how one introduced themselves in an arena. It got the crowd going and may even intimidate your opponent. Alron doubted that was the case though.

[DreamLand]

"Fancy that child, another close call. I can't help but be curious though: what delusion do you suffer from to think that conversing with your foe was an intelligent choice?"

One word. "Strategy."

"Hah! You lie! What stratagem was involved with those ridiculous words you spewed?"

He struggled, but words came. "...mercy. The man was kind, despite his steel. I..."

"Wanted to feel a little better about yourself? A little more Alk?"

He could give me no answer.

"How dare you possess the audacity, to risk everything over such a pathetic cause! Why do you think I chose you as my champion!? Because you fell into some damned pit!? Because you've a bit of cunning!?" It was almost like a father scolding his shamed child; how quaint.

He could hardly muster any words. "Desperation." Amleth's thoughts were bitter, his disdain clear. "I'm a dead soul, and you, the wretched necromancer. Once we are finally finished, I hope you suffer a thousand deaths."

A grin swept across my 'wretched' face. "Well then. I'm glad that we have a mutual understanding. As for that soul of yours, I recommend you smother it before it devours those that you wish to save. Salvation is beyond your reach."

No more words were needed by either of us. The mist could have taken a thousand more years to come, and the message would have remained the same.

--------------

When the mist had settled, Amleth was treated to what was one of the most foreign and grandest sights in his life. Everything was new, right down to the non-blue coloured sands. The structure of the arena, a dome, was a concept of architecture his people had no familiarity with. How could something be constructed in such a shape, and better yet, what laid outside it's protection? Was it the depths of sea? Amleth had heard stories of the ocean before, but never could he have visualized it as something like this. Aquatic life was a total unfamiliarity to him, and the fool would likely have stared on for hours had he been allowed it.

Instead, he enjoyed the spectacle for no more than a fleeting moment, ignoring the talk of his next hopeful victim. For this time, he had been summoned directly to the judge, rather than having permission to first explore his surroundings. The strange figure shattered the serenity with his very direct address, leaving the two fighters as quickly as he had summoned them.

Enough whimsy. The Alk turned to face his speaking foe.

--------------

Instead of the immediate descent into combat that Amleth had come to expect, the masked man insisted on a formal greeting of sorts. The impact of his boisterous address was somewhat lost however, by the flourishes with which he presented his weapons of choice - axes and electricity? Surely he would rely upon speed and ferocity. This fight was to be one of great contrasts in tactics.

This odd one (who ironically was his most "normal" opponent thus far) then seemed to request that he give a similar address. He knew just what to do.

His voice was feeble as he made a small lift of his mask. "I-I...I'm Amleth...just Amleth. A...an expert on defensive tactics. Uhm...I've never really killed anyone before. I came close this one time but...well...lost my nerve. Heh heh." Seeking to imitate the posturing of the axeman, he lifted his shield to the air with such awkwardness that he almost fell over. "Erm...former slave! Loyal servant to the magician called Dream! And the man that will save young lady Canary! ...Uh! I mean Sanary!"

The fear and lack of confidence he obfuscated was seemingly genuine, so much so that I couldn't help but question it's insincerity. Everything he said - except for his lack of murders - was essentially truth after all. Well, sort of.

"Uhm...you seem really strong Mr. Alron. But I must fight!" He began to approach the 'lord of adventurers', before his nerve failed him appeared to fail him. "Uhm...this is real embarrassing, but could you please maybe give me a minute to compose myself?" He reached underneath his coat, grasping the entire reason behind his charade. "H-here. You can have a cigar while you wait. Master Dream meant for it to ease my tension, but I don't even smoke. I've bad lungs you see...Here." With a gentle toss, the dangerous explosive it landed at the man's feet. Hopefully he would accept. If not, perhaps one of his feet could still be blown off...

[PantsTheReaper]

This stammering mess is what I'm up against? thought Alron. Ridiculous. NO! No. Rule #4: Appearances are fake. "Amleth. A good name to die with. But I will give you no quarter; we fight in an arena! We enter to make the crowds riot, whether it be with joy or rage! Be there ten thousand in the stands or none!"

Alron jumped back as the cigar landed. Rule #1: Never trust anything that isn't yours. "If you won't fight, I will!" He rushed forward, his mind running as quickly as it could. A heavy shield and miner's equipment. Will he be slow? A shield limits mobility, and he fell over when he lifted it earlier.

Alron decided on his first move. Just before he reached Amleth, he veered off to the side, much as he did with Randolf. This time, though, he moved away from the shield and held out one axe to catch the miner's side while swinging the other at his arm.

[DreamLand]

The man's vigor was almost admirable, but his apparent love for the arenas was something that confused Amleth to no end. For my little Alk, fighting was a means to an end. For the human, a way of life. How anyone could enjoy the slaughter was beyond him.

Despite the deceiver's best efforts, Alron's mercy could not be swayed. The "gift" was ignored; Amleth began to reach under his coat, hoping to create a diversion under which to escape. He stopped midway, realizing that a smokebomb or firecracker would be inefficient coverage: his boots would leave prints in the sand. The miner had a small panic, being in a rare position where he had not enough time to either think or escape. Instead, the foe assaulted him with more speed than Amleth had ever seen in a man before, prompting him to react almost instinctively.

He raised his shield as to halt a frontal assault, but was caught off guard by the axeman's feint to the side. Unable to reposition himself quickly enough to block the assault, the defender instead threw himself away from the attack. In doing so, he still received a small gash on his right arm - having been unable to evade the attack completely - before taking a small tumble to the ground.

Amleth sprung to his feet and retreated a few steps as quickly as he could, refusing to make any acknowledgment of his pain. Understanding that he would be doomed in a direct clash of steel, the miner instead hoped to inflict enough damage with a blindside, so as to create better opportunity for acquiring the distance he sought after. With a turn and a point to his discarded cigar, the weak telepath flung the object in Alron's direction. It sailed nicely, and with a flick of his fingers, was ignited.

The strategist made a risky wager in trusting the explosive wouldn't be evaded, by his options were slim. Ready to follow-up on the small ensuing explosion, Amleth charged his opponent with his shield held ahead of him, his free arm subsequently withdrawing the pickaxe he rarely need make use of.

[PantsTheReaper]

Alron cursed when he found that Amleth was more mobile than he thought. "This will be fun!" he declared, turning around to face his opponent once again. "The stammering was a ruse! Clever, friend, but as I said: here, I rule!" The crowd that Alron had heard so many times before roared in his head. He was a favorite, loved by most, feared by all. They loved to hear him boast as an arena fighter should.

Smiling, he tucked his axes away and reached for his crossbow, only to watch as the miner pointed at where Alron once stood. Something rose from the spot and flew towards the arena fighter. He tilted to the side to avoid it, turning his head slightly to see the object. It was the cigar he was offered earlier, only now it was lit. "What-?"

The explosion cut him off as it knocked him back. Thankfully, his mask absorbed most of the damage, but the explosion had overpowered the enchantments and left a visible crack in it. A dizzied Alron stood, his hand on his throbbing head. "Tricks? I fight a trickster? BAH!" His head cleared just in time for him to see Amleth charging at him shield forward and reaching back at a weapon.

Alron quickly turned away from the charging miner, but instead of letting him pass, Alron made a grab at his arm and neck. All it took was one solid touch and the Lighting Rod would be unleashed. The crowd knew what was coming; he had done it so many times before. Each held their breath in anticipation, some waiting for Alron to get his revenge for the trick, others waiting for the Master of Arenas to fail.

[DreamLand]

Amleth hadn't expected for his opponent's mask to have some sort of enhanced durability, so when he found himself missing his foe with what should of otherwise been a certain attack, he cursed. In an effort to avert a likely counter-attack, he made a futile attempt at swinging his warpick. His arm and neck were caught however, and before the miner could make any further resistance, he felt an unfamiliar "tingling" in the back of his neck.

He stumbled, falling down to his knees a good three feet away. Electricity pulsed through his veins, and even though it was not nearly the amount that had surely been intended, he could still move about only with struggle. The layer of lead in his coat had proven a strong enough resistance to the grappling of his arm, but the hand to the back of his neck had been protected only by a high collared work shirt. Amleth's body had been numbed, but he forced himself to resume combat, aware that his foe was one quick strike away from ending his dreams. He needed to create distance.

Amleth dropped his warpick and pushed it aside. He remained on his knees, but was now weakly trying to crawl away, with the sands making this task no less difficult. Reaching underneath his coat, he pulled into his hand a single stick of dynamite. He stopped his pitiful crawling, having found that enough strength had returned to his body to make a successful tare of the fuse - it now short enough to allow only roughly five-ten seconds to flee.

Through will alone, he forced himself to his feet and turned to face his enemy. The red explosive was now clearly visible in his hand, for with another flick of his fingers, it was lit. He dropped it upon the ground and began to run from both forces that threatened his well being. Amleth could only hope that this Alron character was not even faster than he had already shown...

[PantsTheReaper]

Alron grinned underneath his mask when he saw Amleth fall. It was time for the coup de grace. He began to walk to where the miner fell on his knees, flashily twirling his axes as he went. "As I said," he shouted, "'He who sees my axe crumbles to dust!' You, friend are no exception!" Even as his opponent crawled along, Alron was closing distance.

Unfortunately, he had been to showy, and the electricity left Amleth's body. The crowd roared at this. Whether in anger or joy, Alron didn't care. The fight was back on. Then there was a red stick in the miner's hand. The wick was lit. Alron's eyes widened in realization as the stick was dropped just a few yards ahead of himself. There was only one choice left.

Alron quickly brought the magical energy inside himself and shaped it into one of his most useful spells, one he dubbed "Rush Hour". Time around him slowed to a crawl. He could see individual bits of sand being kicked up by Amleth as the miner ran. The fuse twinkled as it burned. He had only a few seconds to act.

Alron scooped up the explosive stick and planted it on top of Amleth's abandoned pick. With any luck, the weapon would be damaged beyond use. With the bit of sabotage done, Alron ran in the same direction as Amleth. With time as it was, a third of the distance was closed before the spell ended. Alron drew his crossbow, letting it fall onto the magazine that waited in his other hand, and began firing wildly in his opponent's direction.

[DreamLand]

As Amleth ran, he gave little attention to that which laid behind him. His mind was to busy racing with anxiety, his eyes desperately trying to locate some form of cover. Quickly determining that there was none, his heart sank.

Having not properly anticipated how difficult running through this sand would be, the ex-miner had made his fuse slightly too short. When the blast went off, he was caught at the edge of the force wave. His flight in the air only lasted a few feet, leaving him relatively unharmed, but still disoriented. The sand rained down from above, pelting his back with a blanket of sand. He laid in it for a moment, before once more rising to his feet. but not to the more favorable position he had intended.

There he was, completely unscathed and all too ready to seek retribution. Outrunning the explosion was not an incredible feat in itself, but to avoid even the sand itself...well, it was an unpleasant finding to say the least. Just how fast was he!?

Before that question could bother sitting, Alron had his crossbow drawn. Amleth hesitated, uncertain of just what the contraption was. It was not until his foe began to take aim that he realized it was some breed of ranged weaponry. The Alk raised his shield in defense, taking a knee so that his legs could be protected as well. His ever trustworthy shield protected him from the rapid bolt strikes, providing him with a few moments to quickly consider his circumstances.

There was no room to hide - therefore, traps were out of the question. Blood was not an option either, given his opponent could finish him from a distance. A flambe then? No, there wasn't enough flammable material in the arena...he had already easily avoided dynamite...all that was left then were two weapons that would prove difficult to avoid.

On instinct, he withdrew from under his coat a shrapnel bomb, lighting it as he did so. Then, at great risk of being caught by a bolt, he rose to his feet, making a large overhand throw at his attacker. The bomb flew, and Amleth quickly reverted to his defensive stance - shrapnel could fly far, after all.

[PantsTheReaper]

Alron swore under his breath as each bold was blocked by Almeth's heavy shield. There wasn't much more he could do. Do I make a mad dash at him? No, I'd probably just get blown up. Keep firing and closing distance? He briefly tapped the magazine and received a hollow noise for his trouble. Not enough ammunition. So what? Just lose? That's not an option. I'm not losing my title to some newcomer.

Alron's thoughts stopped when he saw something metal come flying through the air from behind the shield. "Shit!" he hissed, tossing his crossbow behind him. It was obviously another bomb, but Alron wasn't sure that he could avoid it this time. Immediately, he turned around and ran as quickly as he could, diving to the ground just in time for the bomb to explode. Bits of metal propelled themselves outward from the blast. Some stuck themselves in his boots, some in his arms, and some flew over him and cut his back.

Alron winced as he reached over and pulled the shrapnel from his arms. He had had enough experience with explosives while adventuring to anticipate what would happen, hence the dive. "Not bad!" he called, tearing metal from the soles of his boots. "I'm even bleeding! But you may have just doomed us both." The glass dome around them was fractured in places due to the shrapnel. "If it doesn't hold, I hope you can swim."

Alron leapt to his feet, and ran towards the shielded miner, picking up his abandoned crossbow that had landed a few yards away. In a flash, his axes were in his hands and he had reached his enemy and repeated an earlier move, veering off to the side opposite of the shield arm. If he managed to flank Amleth, he would attack. If not, he would try vaulting over the shield.

[DreamLand]

As was anticipated (and prayed for), Amleth's explosive detonated most ideally. He himself remained unharmed by both concussive force and metal shards, while it sounded as if, in turn, his opponent was not as fortunate.

Wishing to gain a better understanding of his opponents current condition and position - for his speed made him most unpredictable - the ex-miner cautiously raised his eyes above his shield. His poor vision made it difficult for himself to determine how much damage had been inflicted, and the words of his opponent gave little solace. He was injured yes, but the degree to which was uncertain. Amleth thought it best to assume the worse case scenario, for in any event, his spirit seemed none the worse for wear.

As the masked fighter continued, the Alk's worries became only greater. Quickly glancing over the perimeter of the dome, Alron's claims were made clarified. At the moment, it seemed that little water was managing to make it's way into the arena. However, despite having never seen a dome before, Amleth could already guess that the structure's integrity had been compromised. The dome would likely hold for some time yet, but it was only a matter of time before the cracks his bomb had created would expand and give way. He could swim, but if it got to the point where it became necessary, all chances of his victory would certainly be lost.

There was however, some hope yet for the Alk. The water could - and would likely need to be - used against his opponent. While the end results seemed obvious enough, the actual method to follow was uncertain.

Before the tactician could determine the best means in which to flesh out his plot, his assailant hopeful was back on the attack. Alron began a mad dash at him, his axes drawn. Seeing the situation as favourable whether or not he missed, Amleth considered drawing his flaregun. The supposed king of the pit proved to quick however, for within moments he was to close to to make a shot without put himself at risk of inflammation. Instead his hand fell upon the closest thing he still had to a proper melee weapon: his bear trap.

The human hoped to flank him, but the Alk had come to expect another attempt at the same maneuver. Upon his enemy's veering, Amleth turned to face him. Thinking himself clever for telegraphing his opponent's move, the defender's guard dropped ever-so-slightly. After all, who could expect the high-risk maneuver that was to come?

[John]

You know, I figured that these would get harder to judge as it went on, but I didn't expect this. Let me say that both of you did amazing. In fact, so much so, that it has taken me this long to come to a decision.

So I award this round to DreamLand. Why you ask? I just felt his posts were a little more alive. I know that probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me, but given the high quality of both, it is the only way I could make a decision. And unfortunately, there can't be a tie.