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Post by moralhazard on Apr 11, 2019 23:55:09 GMT
Kara had come to the worship of Helm as a child. She remembered being carried in her father’s arms as they approached the Hall of Vigilance, Sundabar’s temple to Helm, a massive, imposing building that soared up close to the Eastgate, remembered drinking in sternly-delivered words of law and order, of duty. She remembered sneaking in with her brothers to watch the Everwatch Knights train. She remembered getting into fistfights with other children to defend Helm, passionately defending him against parroted insults, and the lectures from her father that hid how proud he was.
The Hall of Vigilance was gone, of course. Kara’s brothers were gone, and her father, and almost all their fellow worshippers. That Kara – the one who had sat and listened in awe – was gone too. Kara tried not to think of her.
Waterdeep did not have an official temple to Helm. There was a sort of orphanage, with some priests to perform rites. Kara had gone, once, but their services held little appeal for her. She had knelt and listened, left a few of her scant coins as an offering, and then left once more, to search the city again. That was how she had found the Gathering.
The Gathering was not only for the followers of Helm, but it had been started by an Everwatch Knight with business that often took him to Waterdeep, who wanted a place for his own particular form of prayer: combat. It had grown since to become an enormous training ground for all those who sought it out, one that took over a market space one morning every week. There were certain rules to be followed, no death the most important of them. Other than that, anyone who sought entry was welcome, and Helmites most especially.
It was Kara’s second time visiting the Gathering. She was not the only woman to come, but they were few enough, and she was by far the smallest among them. She had been glad to teach a few of those who doubted her place among them a lesson the week before; she had not won every bout, but she had her glaive and her pride, and she had left with one bloodied and the other bolstered. As with her previous visit she came early, for a dawn prayer to Helm, He of the Unsleeping Eyes, the God of Guardians, the Watcher, the Great Guard.
It was no Hall of Vigilance. Kara knelt in a dusty yard, surrounded by men and women with their own scars, dressed in rough clothing or battered armor, glaive resting at her side. But this service made her spirit soar; she drank in the words, every drop of them, glorying in the might of them and in the anticipation of the training to come.
Once the service was ended she and the others prepared the yards, drawing out battle squares where matches would take place. There were piles of healing potions between them; it was not required to contribute one in order to participate, but it was strongly encouraged, especially for those not of Helm. Kara wiped her hands on her black leggings, wearing a ripped-up pair and a tight black shirt, her heavier black tunic bundled off to the side. She gripped her glaive and took her place at one of the outermost rings, watching her turn.
Finally – finally – she stepped into the ring. Her opponent wasn’t one she’d seen the week before, a strong man who’d won his last two matches with a heavy axe. His muscles had muscles; he bulged and heaved, glistening with sweat in the early morning light, and let out a loud, booming laugh at the sight of her, one which rang through the courtyard, loud enough to be heard even over the other fights.
“What is this!” He slapped his hand against his axe, voice as loud as his laugh. “I came to fight warriors of Helm! And you send me this – girl child?” He had perhaps a foot and a half of height on her, and looked as if he weighed at least twice what she did.
Kara adjusted her grip on her glaive. The blade gleamed, freshly oiled the night before; the shaft was equally well polished, until not even the dust dared to cling to it.
“Very well, little girl!” The man laughed again, slapping the axe again with a loud, ringing sound. “If no one will stop you,” he glanced around, waiting. One of those who’d seen Kara fight the week before was laughing softly; another was hiding a smile behind his hand. “It seems the thought of your defeat amuses them,” The man turned back to Kara, a little bit of cruelty lighting his eyes. “If you are sure?”
Kara shifted in her stance, knees bending, turning the blade of her glaive to a ready position, grasp light and strong.
The man roared and charged her.
Kara stepped and swung; the glaive slashed open the leather armor covering his chest and he froze, the momentum of his attack broken by the strike. Kara took a quick step back and to the side, raising one eyebrow.
The man shook his head, renewing his attack and charging her again.
Kara sliced him again, this time opening up a long red line on his thigh, again cutting through his momentum, leaving him chasing slowly after her. She drew it out a long few moments – striking, pulling away, letting him come to her again – until he was bleeding from half a dozen cuts, lightly from some and heavily from others.
Only once he was well and truly cowed did Kara move forward, suddenly, fast and precise, swinging the butt of the glaive heavily into his knee. He stumbled back, and Kara spun, resting the tip of the blade on his windpipe. She held, there, a little flick of her wrist making a small drop of red slide down his collar.
“I yield!” The man gasped, dropping to his knees, his unbloodied axe falling from his hand. “I yield.”
Kara pulled back, resting the butt of her glaive on the dusty ground. She accepted a cloth from one of the watchers, cleaning the blood from her glaive quickly and competently.
Two other men came to help him, and he limped away, slowly, with their support, to seek his healing potions.
Kara turned to the crowd, waiting for her next challenger.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 0:18:47 GMT
For Arioch, Tempus was a personal thing, he did not want any institution or priests telling him what to do or what was accepted. He felt like he knew Tempus, what he stood for, the kind of god he was. And while he could appreciate the gathering of his followers or a fellow follower walking what he considered the right path that usually meant they were rivals to him in his quest. This wasn't seen under a bad light or as something undesireable, but to remain for too long at their side would end up setting him and them back by becoming too accustomed to one another.
He thought similarly about other gatherings, but nonetheless could feel their appeal and eventually decided that they wouldn't be so bad so long as he didn't get sucked into turning those into something regular. The arena was a mighty fine place for getting the real combat practice he really sought, however there were perhaps more things he could learn not just by facing against another in mortal combat but by watching sparring matches. The Gathering was one such event, and he made sure he visited it appropiately dressed for the ocassion. The first thing that caught his eye besides the words of the participants were the makeshift rings, the battlesquares. And then, the thing that surprised him the most: The healing potions.
Those were expensive he knew, quite a lot in fact. Many people could go their entire lives without seeing one, considering the wages the common folk made, it was a benefit of the wealthy and those whose lifestyle compensated high mortality with fast capital. Made him think Helm had some mighty followers in Waterdeep, or someone with a morbid interest in keeping it's followers healthy and alive through their trials. Why not do that at the arena, he thought. And then, he replied to himself. Because that was the point of the arena, the danger, the possibility of death, the finality of mistakes.
He eagerly watched some of the matches until one of them in particular caught his attention. A rather short girl with a weapon larger than she was against a man with a strong arm and a big axe. It would either be a fast match, or an entertaining one. There was no in between. He couldn't help but see the reasoning behind the man's complaint. Surely, he would feel them as well if he were facing a short woman with a glaive. Not to the point of underestimating her, but he would doubt her for sure until he saw what she could do. More words came out, and by then, Arioch was just about to shout the man to get on with it and stop talking.
When the fight began his gaze focused on the combat with interest and everything else around him ceased to be as interesting. He hadn't seen anyone use a weapon as big as her's with that level of effectiveness. And as the man began to bleed he started to wonder how would he do it himself if he had to face her. What kind of strategy could he come up with to face her and not end up in the same kind of situation, she was certainly making the best of her weapon's reach. A smart option. Clever. A bit cowardly for him, but not enough so that it might garner any disapproval. It was crafty.
Watching the man yield at the end felt... a little bit embarassing. How would he beat her if he had to? He kept thinking.
And then her gaze met his.
And he stepped up.
"I'd like to"
He said with a small smirk, his half-plate armor was now considerably more worn out than when he had first purchased it but every dent and cut seemed to fit in just fine with the general look. Possibly because he kept it in the best condition he could. His weapon of choice was the same as it usually had been: His greatsword.
"It is the first time I see someone vield a veapon like that so effectively. Not even in the arena."
He admitted, and it was true, most of them usually did the same old tricks but the woman had been able to defeat the man without getting even wounded once.
"If it is alright by you, that is. This vould be my first time here, and I'm not quite sure if there's anything I need to prove beforehand."
He wasn't sure he could beat her, the only strategy he had in mind was crude and straightforward, risky, and possibly one-use only. After watching the man he knew he needed to close the distance or the fight would be over, either soon, or eventually.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 0:47:23 GMT
A man in half-plate stepped up, holding a greatsword. Kara appraised him, professionally; the armor was battered and dented but well-cared for, with a warrior’s pride. Kara didn’t know anything about the arena, but she could tell at a glance that he was a warrior.
Kara looked up, catching the eye of the square’s Watcher.
The Watcher was an older man, wearing full armor himself; his responsibility was to keep the order of the fights, and to adjudicate as necessary. He looked Arioch up and down. “The only proof that matters is the fight,” he grinned, much more friendly than Kara, and turned back to her. “Do you accept the match?” He asked her.
Kara nodded, once. “I accept.” She had played with the man before, knowing he underestimated her; she would not play with this challenger. He was no overconfident fool.
“Then step into the ring,” the Watcher turned back to Arioch. “The rules are simple. Be vigilant. Do not kill. Accept victory or defeat with honor.” He paused. “Signal me when you are ready, and I will start the match.”
Kara took a half-step back, adjusting her grip on her glaive. She nodded to the Watcher, once, light on her feet, eyes fixed firmly on the warrior before her.
Initiative: 0GDuLJ|Q1d20+11d20+1
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 1:37:34 GMT
Seeing old people in fighting gear was something that always inspired respect in Arioch, so long as they weren't wearing those simply for ceremonial purposes. He wondered if that wasn't the case right then, but he hoped it wouldn't be. After the woman accepted the match he began to ready himself, the rules as they were laid on by the man were pretty simple. Accept the results and try not to kill. Well, he did say to not kill, but that was hard for him. Added difficulty, one of the reasons he did not like sparring matches like that. But it was alright he told himself; if only for the chance to learn about polearms with the short lady. He told himself not to underestimate her but there was something either about his upbringing or personal experiences that had him go softer on women, and show them mercy in situations where he wouldn't have hesitated to kill another man.
Initiative! SVV_mXwT1d20+2
Not that he spent much time thinking about it. He waited until the woman was ready, he set himself ready. Waited for the man to signal the match start... He summoned forth his battle focus, and though it could be called rage, right then for him it wasn't. And he moved forward to try the strangest strategy he had come up with. He would try to roll on the ground, to duck under the reach as he approached, if only to get past the tip of the blade, before getting up again closing up the distance within wielding range of his own sword. Why though? Because he knew he had to get up close and personal with her, otherwise she would keep him forever at bay.1d20+2
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 1:49:09 GMT
Attack of opportunity (disadvantage): 7TttM|rC1d20+5 or 1d20+5
...1d20+5·1d20+5
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 1:56:13 GMT
The moment of truth came soon as the blade of the glave made a masterful move towards him, just like she had seen her do against the previous opponent. However it had been one thing to see them performed on someone else, and another one entirely to see those moves from the first person perspective. She was fast and clearly a master of the weapon she was using, he had no doubt that his strategy would only catch her by surprise once, and after that it would lose efficiency. However he hadn't come up with a way to counter he reach and skillful mastery of arms yet. It was not though as he was a stranger to strategy, but he was hard pressed to find anything that wasn't risky. He could close the reach through other means, but nothing stopped her from simply moving back and then resuming he previous strategy, once again forcing him to be within striking range from her. He had to figure something out when that happened.
His first strategy succeded, if only by taking her by surprise. The attack didn't quite connect, and he managed to slip through rising on his powerful legs with an upward's cut towards the body of the small woman. He couldn't bring himself to unleash his full capacity on her, though that did not mean he wouldn't take her seriously. He didn't want a quick victory. He wanted to feel the struggle, to learn how he would fare against someone with that level in arms and that kind of training if it was even stronger than him. To have an easy victory by a dumb strategy would serve no purpose at all. He awaited eagerly to see what she would do next.
Only 1 attack with advantage Reckless attack Power attack (-5/+10)
NmJE2bND1d20+1 1d20+1
Damage 2d6+10 1d6+3
+5 (+3 STR/+2 Rage)1d20+1·1d20+1·2d6+10·1d6+3
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 2:10:52 GMT
Athletics check with advantage: f6UuM_vp1d20+5 or 1d20+5
Hilt (bonus) attack with advantage: 1d20+5 or 1d20+5
A cool eagerness settled over Kara - a familiar sense of purpose and focus. Not anger, exactly, but a single-mindedness. The world narrowed to the fight before her; the rest of it melted away, her doubts and fears and memories gone, leaving only the opponent before her and her own strength to pit against his.
The warrior closed the distance - fast, faster than Kara had expected, lunging forward with an eagerness. Kara waited, ready, adjusting her grip on the glaive. To her surprise, he dropped and rolled to cover the distance between them, just at the edge of her weapon's reach. She swung anyway, jabbing at his prone figure with the tip of her glaive, but missed, and then he was well inside her guard, swinging the great sword in a heavy, brutal slash.
It caught her, hard, an upward slice that ripped through her clothing and opened a bloody line on her flesh. Even with her focus it was a powerful blow, catching her hard. Staying in close would be suicide. Some angry part of her called to attack, to feel her glaive sink into his flesh; Kara ignored it. She made one quick attack, swinging the butt of the weapon at his thigh to weaken him - missing - then brought the glaive up, grasping the handle in both hands, and gave a quick hard shove against his chest.
Perhaps she had caught him by surprise, but it worked; he stumbled back, a good five feet, and Kara leapt back herself, putting more distance between them - a full thirty feet, taking her close to the other edge of the combat square. If he wanted to close the distance and attack her again, he'd need to try something other than that roll.
((With rage active (as discussed), Kara takes 16 damage))
1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 2:14:32 GMT
Athletics roll with advantage as requested:
gkSn8O3M1d20+3 1d20+31d20+3·1d20+3
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 2:45:26 GMT
Of all the things he had been expecting her to do to shove him was not one of those, neither was watching her try to use the butt of her weapon as a blunt instrument of attempted genital punishment. He felt a bit as though he should be outraged, but instead he was quite pleased. There were no rules on a battlefield, whichever worked was good and she was certainly making the best of it. Not only he would have to watch out for those long distance strikes, but also from the ones up close from the butt of her weapon. Certainly interesting. And also interesting was the fact that despite being so short she managed to muster the strength to push him away; and that push was nothing to sneeze at. Her little body certainly was hiding away enough strength to push someone like him back... Not many could have said the same.
She was full of surprises. Not one second later she fled; retreating back a very safe distance away and pointed her weapon at him again. He liked that. Immediately he rushed forwards, his sword raised. However he wouldn't attack her, it was merely a ruse: Instead he was focused on defending himself from that reach, and from the butt of her blade too. He wouldn't be shoved again, and he wouldn't be attacked again like that. And with enough speed he managed to get through dodging once again the long distance attacks, this time, he closed in in such a way the she wouldn't have it as easy to push him back. If she wanted to move back again, this time, it would cost her more effort. And if she wanted to move back without having him lose his balance or without creating an opening... He would seize the opportunity to punish her.
[Arioch uses the defense action and closes in!]
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 2:51:47 GMT
Attack of opportunity: NRYkz2eF1d20+5 or 1d20+5He closed the distance again, sword raised.
Kara swung again, but she knew fully well that he was expecting it, and so he was; he dodged, easily, coming in close - then, to her surprise, didn't attack.
Kara longed to attack again, but Helm's dictates were clear, rushing through her after that morning's prayer: Careful planning always defeats rushed actions in the end.
Kara disengaged, pulling back again, and moved along the outer edge of the square she'd made, retreating back once more thirty feet. No more rolling along the ground - and if he wanted to attack her, truly attack her, he'd need to move a little quicker.
1d20+5·1d20+5
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 3:10:11 GMT
This time however, Arioch did not go after her but remained exactly where he was watching her retreat; a smart girl, wouldn't give up the only advantage she have. However, this time he wanted to see what would he do if he didn't chase after her. But, at the same time, he couldn't just stand idly there. So he did what he thought was sensible and slowly lowered his own body... Until he was almost laying prone as if he was underestimating her and provoking her to come for him. Not only in the body language but in his smirking face. Twice had he come for her, but the reality was that he needn't do it.
At the current rate this was plan C, plan D would be similarly humiliating but he was thrilled, truly thrilled to see her reactions. It wasn't something usual for him to have a crafty opponent that he had to think around of to defeat. He wondered however what would happen if she didn't come and instead remained where she had been standing. Would the judge end the match? For him at that moment it was all about the stance. Should they have been both with weapon in hands staring at each other it could have been considered a standoff. But with him almost sitting it was more than an invitation.
He wondered if she would sit as well. That would crack him up. He wasn't sure if the judge would found it funny as well, but he hoped he did. He would concentrate on dodging, as he was now.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 3:21:01 GMT
Kara watched as the warrior slowly lowered his body, all but squatting on the ground. She didn’t think for one moment he was anywhere near as vulnerable as he seemed; this was as clear a trap as Kara had ever seen, and the smirk on his face only showed it. Part of her ached to close it, and the more sensible part whispered that one blow had lain her open already; getting in close with him was a losing strategy. Had she been closer, she might have tried to lunge in and out again - but she'd gone far enough that he would be more than ready for her. The only way was to stand her ground and wait him out.
Kara felt no sense of shame, no embarrassment, even though those watching the fight were starting to laugh. It was a fair amusement; Kara would willingly admit she could see the humor in it. She was dancing around the edges of the ring, pulling away, and he was following after her, and now squatting on the ground as if he wanted to take a little break mid-fight. Worse, at least to some observers, she didn’t take advantage of his apparent weakness; Kara stayed right where she was.
At the edge of the ring, the Watcher shifted, but didn't intervene.
Kara focused her energy on the attack she thought would come soon, ready to dodge any attack he made in the near future.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 3:30:33 GMT
At that point he couldn't help but laugh, softly. He was having a hard time keeping it in; he stopped squatting... And then laid flat on the floor taking a deep sigh, and used the chance to relax and think of his next strategy. It was clear that she wouldn't come attack him, so perhaps he'd have to close the distance but the question was in the how. He watched at her from her nap on the ground legs wide spread and arms outstretched. That was something pretty risky to do but he felt daring. That was as cocky as one could get, he couldn't see himself doing that in the arena lest he was wildly humiliating his opponent and could get away with it. But the girl was being patient so far, perhaps she would keep being so. At least the judge hadn't stepped in to stop the fight yet. Which, incidentially, also made him wonder... What else could he get away with?
He pondered about that on a second panel, while first and foremost he was thinking what he would do to approach her. He didn't have to be all rage about that, and that was a first in any of his combats. Not even those in the arena had been so... calm and calculating. It was a fresh experience, and he reveled in it. He took another deep breath, and smiled joyfully at Kara.
He made it his focus to avoid any further attacks for now.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 12, 2019 3:46:13 GMT
There was something in the warrior’s grin that sparked… an answer, in Kara. So far, she’d said almost nothing – two words – and he’d seen no emotion on her face other than pure focus. But when he grinned at her, Kara shifted, half setting the glaive down, and grinned back at him, an unexpected flash of a smile that lit her face and smoothed out some of the weight that seemed to press her down.
Those watching were torn, half starting to grumble that fighters should fight if they didn’t want someone else to take over the ring, and the other half laughing or smiling along with Arioch and Kara.
The Watcher was one of those smiling, but he cleared his throat nonetheless, shifting in his heavy armor. “There are others who would use the practice squares,” he remarked. “If you wish to lounge about,” he glanced first at Arioch, then at Kara, blaming them equally, “you may do so out of the arena. Next time, the match is over.”
Kara raised her glaive again, and moved about five feet closer, hoping that would tempt him into starting to do the same, ready to dodge if he did. The Watcher was right; they could only stand and wait for so long. He was a creative opponent, much more than most of the others she'd faced, and Kara looked forward to seeing what he would do next.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Apr 12, 2019 3:55:51 GMT
And he finally found the limits of the judge's tolerance, though much to his liking the woman finally was smiling as well. He was glad they were on the same page. After that, he began to get up as clumsily and slowly as possible, providing plenty of opportunity attacks in which he would have been easy prey before finally standing upright. He stretched his arms, made a few movements to make sure they were working correctly and began to walk towards Kara without rush. And as he did so he began to undo the ties on his heavy gauntlet. He looked at her as if he was trying hard not to laugh, stopping at twenty feet distance. Took the gauntlet away, placed it on his hand. He entered his battle focus. And then threw it at her.Can't use reckless attack, it's only for melee strikes 7hAkhM7Z1d20+5 1d20+5 Damage 1d4+31d6+31d20+5·1d20+5·1d4+3·1d6+3·1d6+3
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