[4e] Fallen - Chapter I: Blood and Sand (Full)

[Kobold Stew]

Though most of the spectators are unaware, the floor to the arena is not solid. Solid timbers are supported on elaborate stonework arches that support the whole substructure where animals and gladiators are kept. From the subsurface chambers, with its cells, its stables, its public spaces where meals are served for the gladiators and those who endure their servitude without facing death quite so regularly -- from these spaces access to the arena itself is possible at either end. One can climb to ground level, stand in the antechamber (where the acoustics from the full arena echo so loud one can barely hear oneself think), and wait for the portcullis to rise. At the East end, Pirx can see the three gladiators, wearing new, special armour.

In addition, there are three lifts, where the floor can be lifted away (this takes eight men, or four ogres if there has been a hunt recently and the captives survived), and a large cage raised into the arena. It's not a practical access to the arena, though.

But there is also ventilation, puling fresh air to the substructure below, more than fifty vents that Pirx has discovered over the past few days. All leading to the arena, none to the outside. Around the oval perimeter of the sand, blended into the sculptural ornamentation, carved abstract representations of mythical battles of some imagined dragon past, these narrow openings seem constantly to breath -- a steady wind that represents the respiration from the world beneath the sand -- evidence that it is still alive, breathing, ever ready to serve, and to provide entertainment.

 

[Sparky]

The crowd roars in response to Atrius' raised fist. The three dragon-helmed warriors stride to the center of the Arena, gravel crunching beneath their feet. The banners hang limply in the still air of the arena. Back to back the three warriors wait for the horn that would sound the beginning of the fight.

The crowd grows quiet in anticipation of the fight.

In the moment, everything is clear. The sparkle of dust in the air. The creak and clank of armor. The susurrus of the crowd. The deliberate breathes of the other two other gladiators. The sun lighting the awning shades. The hoot and grunt of creatures unseen. The dull gleam of metal on the doors to the holding pens.

In the moment, everything seems to freeze.

Crystalline.

And then the stillness is shattered with a single pure note that shivers in the blood and in the ears.

The crowd roars as the doors swing open and packs of ravening dogs, frothing, their eyes full of unreasoning animal hate, charge towards the mound.

There are four packs, each emerging from a gates spread equidistant around the arena. The dogs are red-furred, not naturally, they're... painted. They snap and snarl as they charge.

OOC: Initiative.

 

[Kobold Stew]

Secreted in his hiding spot, Pirx hears the dogs bark. He can smell them.

{OOC: Initiative (18).

 

[Insight]

OOC: Init 1d20+2=14

Seeing and hearing the dogs approach, Q'ynn Daelrith raises his hand, containing the symbol of Kord. He says nothing, watching instead the actions of his companions before acting.

 

[eblue562]

Rodeh sighs heavily as the dogs approach from all parts of the arena. His plan of standing in front to direct the assault assumes that they would all come from one direction.

"Sheet," He whispers gruffly from under his beard.

{OOC: Initiative Roll : 11. Whoopie.}

 

[Walking Dad]

Fury doesn't like this. Costumes that slow down his movement. Fighting against animals...
He breaths deep to find his inner center.


[sblock=OOC]
Hi everyone. Maybe I will not be able to post tomorrow. My sons hearing is (slightly) impaired and I need to bring him to a doctor.

Initiative (1d20+7=15)

Action:

Minor: Use Harmonious Discipline
Other: After knowing order of initiative.

[sblock=Mini stat block]
Caged Fury
Perception: 21 Insight: 16 / Low-light Vision
Initiative: +7
AC 18 Fortitude 14 Reflex 16 Will 17
Hit Points: 56 / 56 Bloodied: 28
Temporary Hit Points: 0
Action Points: 1 Second Wind: 1
Healing Surge: 14 Surges per day: 11/11
At-Will Powers: Centered Flurry of Blows, Dancing Cobra, Five Storms
Encounter Powers: Oath on Enmity, Open the Gate of Battle, Twin Thunders, Harmonious Discipline, Purifying Meditation
Daily Powers: Masterful Spiral, One Hundred Leaves
[/sblock][/sblock]

 

[Sparky]

The portculli the dogs emerged from clang home and the gates thump shut. They growling of the dogs mixes with the roar of the crowd into one voice of animal rage. They charge.

The pack bearing down on Rodeh yelp in surprise as a wickedly barbed bramble leaps from their prey's sturdy longsword and snares the forward elements of the pack. Rodeh tugs and the thorns bite, pulling the surging pack closer still, but on his terms. The thorns whicker back into the dwarf's blade, leaving two dogs limp and bleeding from long gashes.

(Crit! If you want the pack in a different square than indicated on the map, let me know. Went out of initiative, because eblue had readied the action.)

The dogs snarl and snap, but can't land a bite. The pack charging Caged Fury is a different matter. They bear down on the monk with determined ferocity. Fury frantically paries their bites and is left with numerous bleeding gashes.

(Caged Fury takes 10 pts

Pirx is up. The map is here.)

 

[Sparky]

There was a knock at the door. The Professor looked up, over his spectacles and cleared his throat.

"Come," he intoned. He blotted the page he was writing as his visitor, a student, bustled in. Blowing lightly on the page, the Professor studied the writing, his once-flowing hand had grown crabbed as the weather grew colder. He scowled at the page.

"Sit! Sit! Don't just stand there gawping. Sit, sit!" He snapped at the young man. "Is there something I can help you with, Hangromm?" The red-haired young man was timid, but there seemed to be an air of excitement. "Well, out with it."

Hangromm's words came out in a flood, with barely enough time for the young man to speak them, let alone consider the content.

"Slow down, Mister Hangromm. I'm quite certain your subject won't escape."

"Yes, sir." The young man nodded and composed himself. "It's our assignment, sir. I'm... uh. I think there might be another member of Sarcus' personal guard."

The Professor masked a flutter of excitement as he steepled his fingers in front of pursed lips, peering at the young man down the considerable length of his nose. Yes, lad. You're getting it... come on.... Hangromm looked up from his notes and caught the Professor's steely gaze. He faltered mid-sentence before the momentum of his excitement carried him forward,"I became curious about some discrepancies I discovered in different transcriptions of Arena records. Sarcus had two sets of bodyguards, one for his estate and one for his person. I found scores of names associated with the body guard, but it was when I was doing some work for Professor Reck that I saw this..."

Hangromm pulls a page from his ledger and hands it to the Professor. "I copied this from the monastic records of an order of Muradite monks. See, last term part of my work for Professor Reck is collecting and categorizing zoological texts. I particularly liked Zehn Drakaelica, Volume IV. And this term my work for Professor Lidge is doing the same for religious clerical texts. I liked the zoological texts better, they have incredible plates."

Hangromm blinked, eyes widening, "I'm rambling." The Professor's furrowed brow focused young Hangromm's mind, "When you mentioned Sarcus' guard the other day, I had a niggling thought I couldn't pin down."

The Professor's bushy brows quirked as he perused the page, "And? What makes this record of monastic banality relevant in the slightest, Mister Hangromm?"

"Oh, yes! Well, sir, in my cataloguing this term, I came across this record that the Muradite monks made after a season of rains had resulted in leak in the roof of their scribnatory. They meticulously documented what damage was sustained. At the time they were working on a number of copies of Zehn Drakaelica, and because I liked it so, I was curious to see if our copies were any of those they had been working on. We have three incomplete sets and one complete set. One of the incomplete sets predates the damage! Just one. And then I rememembered what had bothered me since your lecture. One of the plates in Zehn Drakaelica, Volume IV is of the mounts of Sarcus' personal guard. And the volume that predates the damage is slightly different, very slightly. The plates show the names of the riders, including one you didn't mention..." The young man paused and looked up, surprised to see a trace of smile on his professor's normally cloudy face.

"And what was the name?" the Professor asked, eyes bright and hard.

"Sir it was Caged Fury."
​

 

[Kobold Stew]

The purple of the Emperor's flag shakes gently in the breeze. Staring from his grate behind the discarded buckets that have wet the fine gravel, Pirx had seen the attendants plant the three standards in the ground, but it was the purple one that caught his eye. He had watched them spread the gravel, but it was the purple that held his eye.

It would be reckless, Pirx thought. I would be a fool, Pirx thought. But then he hears the roar of the crowd, and he thinks, I have a chance. Thousands of spectators, the Emperor's standard, and I have my hiding places.

When he smells the dogs, he makes a run for it. Just on and off the field, taking the Emperor's banner with me. Simple, he thinks.

Pirx, who had successfully evaded capture in the subbasements of the amphitheatre for so long, stepped into the light, its warm beams hitting his fur. Emerging from behind his grate, he runs. The pots clatter and for a few steps one of them finds itself attached to Pirx's feet. His comically loping gate lacks the grace that he's hoping for in this initial appearance, but he soon shakes it off. Another pot rests on his head, inverted, like some child's attempt to make a helmet to play soldier. This also spoils the effect he is going for.

But there is the purple. And the dog packs and the three armored gladiators in the way. As he shakes away the pot from his foot, he rolls his neck and summons the armor he had once rescued from a halfling corpse. It is beaded, and has a floral emblem on it...not his style, but what are you going to do?

His bow is in his hand, but Pirx has a goal, first. His eye is on the purple.

He reaches the banner, and with his long fingers begins to undo the knot that attaches it


OOC:
I've taken you at your word and accepted that Pirx can hide anywhere. I've suggested that the discarded buckets, etc, are in front of one of the grates at E11.
Move: E11 to K11
Minor: summon armor
Action: Thievery against banner, to untie the knot or whatever is attaching it, so Pirx can run around holding the banner in his hand. 1d20+14 = 19.

If he can't make it that far, or if he needs more time, he can do an extra shift, or even make a nimble strike with the bow against some dogs and get a shift that way. In that case, he can make his thievery roll next turn.


EDIT: Will use Goblin tactics, shifting around the banner, if attacked.

 

[hafrogman]

Atrius curses quietly under his breath as the baying of the hounds reaches his ears. The trappings didn't seem to mean much, for all the pomp and celebration, the contest of man against animal would be a bloody and ugly affair. Perhaps the dogs were merely meant to soften them up for a later foe, but either way, blood would be shed today.

He watches as the dogs close, quicker than he expected. The monk had already proven his thoughts true. Best to end the battle quickly, before it becomes a contest of endurance. He shouts a few word of encouragement as they come to him.

"Focus! Victory if we stand together!"

Then, he puts actions to his words and quickly closes with a dog, swinging his blade in a shining arc.

ooc:
minor: draw blade
move: shift to N13
standard: War Song Strike against Dog Pack 3
1d20+12 = 23 vs. AC
hit: 1d8+7 = 13 damage
hit: Any ally who hits Dog Pack 3 before the end of my next turn gains 3 temporary hp.