NSWRPF Archive Colosseum: Gladiator Games

OOC: Duely noted.

Xero Angelus vs 2

Unwilling Slaves
The Arena

The left-most slave, the swordarm, had watched the general as he approached. He anticipated the motion of the halbred strike and maneuvered himself away from its extending reach by side-stepping along with his partner, who shuffled behind, to the left. This drew him closer to the sickle, but the curved weapon commanded a shorter range and would be better defended against. Even as the dust began to drift from the colosseum floor, the slave threw out his right hand and slashed at the air with his gladius. The motion brought no danger, but its purpose was twofold: to thwart any further strike and to signal his partner to closen. With the granted slack in their chain, the swordarm threw out his shackled left wrist attempting to hook the iron links to the axe blade of the halbred.

Tag: Xero Angelus

 

~IC:Brutus Spartacus Vitus~
Colosseum - Roma, Roman Empire

Brutus could tell the slaves were afraid by the formation they had formed. The shield bearers faced him while their swordarm partners weaved back and forth behind them. In this formation they continued to circle him. This formation would not change his approach to these unwilling slaves. He would remain to stand composed. Lookin like he has froven solid. But at the right monent he would strike. He would beat these men off their mistakes by acting too soon.

~TAG: Slaves~

 

"Line up ! Make the chains your friends ! Work with them and they'll work with you ! Defend one another ! The one who has the sword or weapon you take control in the offense ! The one who has the shield defend both of yourselves !"she yelled.

Guinevere breathed heavily and watched her attacker's every move. She was going to duck and try to hit the horse, or injure the horse.

"Men ! One who has the weapon, go low !"she yelled and waited.

 

APPROVED

Name: Merneptah
Gender: Male
Position: Unwilling Slave

Description: The desert sun of Upper Egypt has bathed Merneptah's skin a distinguished, bronzed to light brown tone. Though descended from a line of low-level administrators, he spent enough time working the fields to build a strong, if lean physique. He stands at about medium height.

Merneptah possessed just enough knowledge of history to understood the past glories of his people, and resent Roman rule. Daily, the degraded status of his own family further drove this point home. While traveling south to Alexandria to fulfilled his required contribution to public works, he fell in with a crowd of like-minded youth. Together, they drew up abortive plans for liberation. The local Roman garrison rapidly and predictably thwarted these ambitions, landing Merneptah first in prison, and then in slavery.

Shocked and embittered by his time in chains, Merneptah welcomes the opportunity to fight as a gladiator, seeing it as an opportunity to unleash his aggressions against the Romans.

 

IC: Merneptah

After a good two decades of observation, Merneptah was finally coming to understand his mother. Or, at least, that fretting, at once restless and shiftless, that colored so many late nights when he lay still in bed, ostensibly sleeping. For the first time, it reminded him of the fox, not truly feral until it had already been ensnared. Galloping in circles like a fool, while the champion waited patiently, he empathized with both. Finally?frighteningly?he knew that it belied nothing, that it truly was devoid of any reason.

He kept moving, caged inside himself. He saw the masses above, flexing with a subconscious rhythm, like some sort of tentacled beast. He heard only the ragged tenor of his own breath. He knew the sun was pounding them, in what must?ve been near one hundred degree weather. He felt only the cold pall of fear. The sand beneath his boots grated as his heels absorbed the pounding of his shuffle. And the only vibration was the break-neck drumming of his heart. He went on like that for nearly a minute, locked in a horrible daze whose only interruption was the urge to cower behind his buckler. An urge he resisted with the reminder of how much of himself it would leave exposed, and how meager the protection of something only a few cutting boards thick was anyway.

And so he moved in circles around the champion, like a cornered animal making in an increasingly desperate mix of faints and abortive dashes to freedom. The champion just stood there, already a veritable colossus, and growing larger with each rotation. Where the Egyptian was driven on by the desperate terrified trembling that comes from standing at perilous heights, the champion was possessed with a cool, unflinching patience. The kind of patience that came from knowing exactly what to expect, and that you could defeat it without trouble. Where Merneptah?s untrained muscles burned with overwrought effort, the champion?s tensed fractionally, sculpting more menace into biceps or deadliness to his legs, the sign of a body long-disciplined by battle. While Merneptah?s eyes were pulled wide in adrenaline-laced anxiety, the champions remained even, surveying what was in front of him. Only what was in front of him?he wasn?t concerned about an attack from behind. It was the slaves that circled, but they weren?t marking their borders; they were fleeing from the champion?s kill zone.

Ludicrous. It was the first thought that Merneptah managed, when his consciousness had finally been able to battle above his instinct. He was wasting energy, and would probably die no matter what. But his?his partner?s, he amended?weapon would only be effective at short range, to stab. At the same time, making it inside would make the champion?s halberd ineffective as well. There was only one logical option, then. Reaching behind him, he tugged weakly at the chain, to let his fellow slave know of his intentions. As they continued to circle, he tried to catch the other pair?s eyes, and nodded. He hoped they?d seen him. Moved, and hesitated. Another slip, and the champion would most certainly know his intentions, if they weren?t obvious already. He hoisted the shield up to make the best protection possible. He charged.

TAG: Master_Kast7, oppaizombie

 

OCC: I forgot to put TAG in my post. I'm sorry. The TAG is to: CmdrMithrawnuruodo

 

OOC:EnnaJ, CmdrMithrawnuruodo is not here right now and has given all NPC control to me. You are no longer a slave but a gladiator, as mentioned in his last post. There are no horses in the arena and no one is mounted; everyone is afoot. You are currently engaged with Rectus, impromptu slave leader and so you must defend yourself.

Ponitus Greco vs 2
Guinevere Adams vs 1 (Rectus)
Xero Angelus vs 4
Brutus Spartacus Vitus vs 3 and Merneptah

Unwilling Slaves
Pontius Greco
The Arena

Pontius Greco, farmer and husband, dashed backwards in a flurry of dusty steps as he dodged the advance of his slave attackers. The travertine walls of the Colosseum pushed his course around its beige circumference; all the while the cheer from the denizens of Rome harassed his ears. I must not yield, if I yield I give ground and thus I give away advantage. He was starting to think more like a warrior and less like a farmer, but his realization may have come too late.

The lone woman had yet to move for attack or defence. Rectus did not change his tactics in sight of this, for he believed she was merely lost in the grandeur of the arena. It was a daunting sight, indeed. His footfalls thudded across the sandy floor as he charged, shield held fast before him, with galdius sparkling like a bladed tail in the sky. Prepare to die wench.
(Tag: Guinevere Adams/EnnaJ)

A signal from one of the slaves circling the champion, had all four slaves charge in towards the gladiator. Two of the four charged in from his left side. The shield-bearer hefting his buckler in a mid-chest defence. Opposite to this the sword-wielding slave followed his partner, whom had given the signal, and cried out both in terror and in a summons of courage.
(Tag: Brutus Spartacus Vitus/Master_Kast7)

 

OOC: Before I post, might I ask how I ended up fighting 4? I probably have been from the start, and I'll look back to check just to be sure.

 

OOC: Technically you are only fighting two slaves. The first pair ran away but they are not out of the fight.

 

IC: Guinevere Adams

Guinevere ducked swung at the horse's legs with her battleaxe. The slaves stared at her. Guinevere swung so fast at the horse's legs, that she was on the ground, she was below her attacker.

TAG-CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

OOC: Guess I will have to say it again: there are no horses in the arena and you are a gladiator now, not a slave, EnnaJ.

 

OCC: Sorry, I didn't read that u said that before. My bad, I fixed my post.

IC: Guinevere Adams

Guinevere ducked swung at the attacker legs with her battleaxe, hitting them hard.She was sure she hit them, and waited for the crowd and the Emperor's reraction. She whirled back up and also waited for her attacker.


TAG-CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

~IC: Brutus Spartacus Vitus~
Colosseum - Roma, Roman Empire


As the slaves charged, Brutus reached over his back and withdrew his Battle Axe. He knew the slaves were trying to rush in towards him to lower his defense with his halberd. But now with his Battle Axe in hand the slaves might think otherwise. But that was also irrelevent to Brutus. These men ran towards their death rather they were afraid or not. Brutus stod ready to strike.


~TAG: The Slaves

 

IC: Guinevere

Sweat rolled down Guinevere's forehead. The hot sun beat down on her skin, and she suddenly became nervous. She felt like she was going to throw up. She wasn't sure if she had hit her attacker or not, and she closed her eyes. She felt like she was falling and opened them up quickly and hit her attacker again. She struck him again, and again and again. She was ready to feel the blood splatter on her clothing or her face.

TAG-CmdrMitthrawnuruodo