The Tournament.

[Saint]

Okay, so the idea has come to me via the addition of the dice function.  Hold on a second.


   Tempest heaved a heavy sigh as he walked  through the slightly run-down streets of Villagetown, contemplating his latest defeat.  He hated losing with a passion.  If he'd had only a few more seconds to focus, he'd have nailed Lemocre.  As things went, though, the damned werewolf tackled him before he could pull off the spell he needed.

   He punched himself in the thigh without realising how much power he put into it, and almost yelped at what would surely be a bruise, come morn.  As he stroked the pained area, Tempest eyed a poster which had been clumsily pasted over the door of someone's shop.  Limping over, he began to make out the words.

The Tournament!

Fighters from all over the world come in awe of this legendary fight.  Could you be the next winner?  We're searching for the greatest fighter in the land.  Could it be you?

On February 22nd, 2870 A.D., applications for The Tournament will be held in the Imperial Ballroom.

GRAND PRIZE IS SEVEN MILLION GOLD COINS

Be there.

   He smiled to himself.  This was what he needed.  He'd win this thing, and proove to himself that he was the best.


Okay, so basically, it's a fighting Role Play, but made fair via the use of the dice function.  This will work as so:

Each player will start a fight with 100HP.  They write a paragraph, describing their attack, string of attacks, whatever, and at the end, post this:

Code: [Select]

[ roll]1d50[/roll ]

Without the spaces.  ('Code' box doesn't work with this feature.)
That is then subtracted from the opponent's total HP, and the opponent then writes their paragraph.  When one person's HP hits zero, the other wins.  Similarly, if the fight goes on for more than five turns, then the one with the highest HP wins.  [For quick reference, please note your current HP at the top of your post.  And make sure the subtraction is done right; I'll be watching.]

Also, to make this fair, each player will have an equal amount of turns.  If both players fall below zero because of this, the match is decided by who took dealt the most damage.  For example:

Turn 1: Player A takes 40 Damage from Player B..
Turn 2: Player B takes 40 Damage from Player A.
Turn 3: Player A takes 40 Damage from Player B.
Turn 4: Player B takes 40 Damage from Player A.
Turn 5: Player A takes 40 Damage from Player B. [Would knock Player B out, but this is unfair, as player A has had more moves.  So we're giving Player B one last chance.]
Turn 6: Player B takes 50 Damage from Player A.  [As you can see, Player B has dealt more damage than Player A has.  Player B is then declared the winner.]

Wow, that was easier to explain than I thought.

One thing, though.  Any post that has been edited will result in that player taking a fifty point penalty from their HP, and whatever damage would have been done to the opponent will be cancelled.  Please ensure that you have all your grammar/spelling/typos corrected before you post.

One character per entrant, please.

You can introduce your charcter by continuing the role play from your charcter's point of view, but please fill out one of these and drop it under the first post.

Name:
Age:
Height:
Weight:
Race/Species:
Gender:
Fighting Style:
Weapons?:
'Powers': [Only a rough description is needed here, e.g. telekenisis, or fire control.]
Brief Appearance:
Motivation:

Okay then.  Tournament will begin on October 25th if we have at least four participants.  If we don't have four by that time, then it will begin when we get four.  Until that time, you are free to role play by interacting with other characters or developing your back story, but please don't write the scenario past (or on) the tournament date.

Oh, and here's Tempest:

Name: Tempest Moore.
Age: 17
Height: Average-Tall
Weight: Skinny
Race/Species: Human; English
Gender: Male
Fighting Style: Hand-to-hand.
Weapons?: Twin short swords; daggers in jacket.
'Powers': Wind manipulation; minor magic.
Brief Appearance: Long blonde hair, reaches halfway down back.  Black tips.  Wears a black and red checked dress shirt underneath a zip-up hoody; black jeans; converse shoes.  
Motivation: Prove his fighting ability to himself.


[1] [2] [3] [4]
  [1]     [4]
      [4]
     WINNER
      [6]
  [6]     [7]
[5] [6] [7] [8]

1=Random opponent Eliminated by Tempest
2=Random opponent Eliminated by Random opponent
3=Chinaren - Urkle Harbuckle - Human Eliminated by Tempest
4=Saint - Tempest Moore - Human Winner
5=Rabbit - Azura Mackelby - Kavir Warrior Eliminated by disqualification
6=Burningplain - Belesair - Elf Eliminated by Tempest
7=NicTei - Erik - Revenant Eliminated by Belesair
8=Random opponent Eliminated by Erik

[Saint]

Errr, Nic?  We're waiting for your fight here.

[Chinaren]

He's just a little slow. 

[NicTei]

Erik strode into the arena, his heavy fur cloak still around his shoulders despite the warm temperatures.  Just across from him, the mountainous man whose name had been revealed as Bromd was roaring at the crowd, raising his arms and swinging his battle ax through the air.  Finally, he turned to glare at his opponent.

"You're not worth my time, little man!" he laughed.

No sooner had the signal to fight been given than a loud crack echoed throughout the arena.  Bromd fell backwards, dead as a doornail.  Erik drew his arm back underneath his cloak, concealing his pistol sword once more.

=UBER CRITICAL:  9999 DAMAGE=

"Before you could even think of moving, remember?" the Revenant said to the corpse.

[Burningplain]

Me thinks that be cheating.

[Saint]

Nope, it be fair.  Rules say he wins by default if he comes up against 'no opponent', as long as he writes the scene.  Sure, he has less fights to actually win, but we all had even chance to get one of the empty fights.  Time for Stage 2.

[Saint]

[1] [2] [3] [4]
  [1]     [4]
      [ ]
     WINNER
      [ ]
  [6]     [7]
[5] [6] [7] [8]

1=Random opponent
2=Random opponent Eliminated by Random opponent
3=Chinaren - Urkle Harbuckle - Human Eliminated by Tempest
4=Saint - Tempest Moore - Human
5=Rabbit - Azura Mackelby - Kavir Warrior Eliminated by disqualification
6=Burningplain - Belesair - Elf
7=NicTei - Erik - Revenant
8=Random opponent Eliminated by Erik

Right, so it looks like, in fact, it is fair, after all, as all combatants will have had one skipped fight each.  (Tempest is fighting a computer opponent next, Erik just fought a computer opponent, and Belesair won his by default)

I'll get my fight up sometime soon, and then it's Erik Vs. Belesair (In fact, feel free to start that now while you wait for my fight)  and the winner faces Tempest in the final.

[Saint]

Tempest stood in the arena, eyeing down his next opponent.  He looked pretty generic, actually, as if some author somewhere had just thought of him at the last minute.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect skin.  All he needed was a Nazi armband and he'd be one of Hitler's perfect children.  He was even dressed up in army camouflage.

The bell rang to signal the start of the fight, and straight away, the opponent- who was called Heimlich Mann, according to the many screens surrounding the arena -sprang with a punch leading forward.  He traversed pretty
much the entire distance between them in one leap, taking the last few steps at a run.  He didn't even have the chance to move out of the way before a few hundred metres of momentum hit him dead square in the chest.  Despite that, though, when he hit the ground, he skidded six feet at the most.

He tried to stand, but Heimlich was all over him, crouching over his body and pounding away with his fists.  Tempest just couldn't keep up; the bruises were already forming, and when hit again, the pain pain was twice as intense.  He felt almost as if he was sat in a car that was sat in the car-crusher, which was sat in a car-crusher-crusher.

The man stopped punching for a second to check if Tempest was still breathing, but on finding that he was, let out a sigh that revealed he was losing strength.  But not much.  The man's next punch was actually a kick- aimed straight for Tempest's crown jewels.

The resulting cry had people in the front rows- which were still quite a way away due to the vastness of the arena -wishing they hadn't paid that extra 25 gold.  The punches came again, but they were undoubtedly slowing down.  Heimlich may have been the better fighter- by far -but Tempest was the better strategist.  Bombing punches against him wasn't going to work, and it seemed that it was all this man could do.

Tempest tried to move as he was being punched, to survey what would work.  His arms hadn't been punched at all yet, but his legs were completely off limits.  Head and torso were being battered unmercifully, but this also meant that Heimlich wasn't concentrating on him.  Moving in rhythm with the punches so as not to draw attention to it, he moved his hand down his body to the short sword in the sheath at his right waist.

Heimlich noticed what he was doing just in time for the sword to slide through his neck.  For good measure, Tempest rotated it, creating a gaping void with blood spurting out in all directions.  He pushed the limp body off him, leaned to the side and vomited about as much blood as the man he'd just killed was now losing.

"Don't mention the sword," he spluttered to the healers who ran over. "I did once, but I think I got away with it."

[Chinaren]

"Don't mention the sword," he spluttered to the healers who ran over. "I did once, but I think I got away with it."

ROFL!!! Seriously.   

[NicTei]

Off-Topic:

Methinks it be my turn.  Burningplain, you've got to make a move as well.

Erik's Current HP:  100

Taking his stance opposite the elf that was to be his opponent, Erik felt for the loading chamber of his pistol sword, Teresa, and counted the amount of holes that were full.  Only one of the eight bullets was missing after the last fight, and he briefly considered fighting from a distance, only to remember that the final bullet was destined for revenge, not a petty duel.  The elf certainly looked as if he'd take more than eight bullets to defeat.

A plan began to formulate, and Erik brushed a stray strand of his ebony hair away from his maroon eyes as the tribal designs on his face seemed to quiver with excitement, full of their own dark intelligence.  Reaching for the hilt of his damascus sword, Belmont, he spun quickly in place, his heavy fur cloak billowing out around him as he drew Teresa and fired three shots in quick succession at the elf.

Rolled 1d50 : 9, total 9

[NicTei]

Off-Topic:

...that's three damage per bullet.  This will take forever.  Your turn, BP.

[Burningplain]

Belasiar burst out laughing, Erik was using bullets, bullets of all the things to attempt to kill him with. Well this would be fun. Belasair charged him, laughing still, his twin short swords slashed out aiming to open his opponent from naval to throat. At the last second he threw in a quick fire spell to make sure he did at least some damage.

Rolled 1d50 : 9, total 9

Belasairs current health: 91;

[NicTei]

Off-Topic:

Haha!  Only 9 damage as well!!  ...this is going to take a while. 

Erik's Current HP:  91

Throwing off his cloak as the smell of singed fur reached his nostrils, Erik drew his damascus sword and pointed the tip at the elf.  Staring down the length of the blade into his opponent's eyes, he suddenly charged, erupting out of his casual stance into a long jump that had him sailing inches above the ground towards his intended victim.  Executing a spin on the way, he stretched both blades out, resulting in a buzz-saw motion.

Rolled 1d50 : 41, total 41

[NicTei]

 

[Burningplain]

Belasair swore loudly as the blade sank in. The cut healed almost instantly but the damage was done. He span shouting and launched a spinning kick at Erick, the kick missed. Instead he switched tactics and called down the flames of the phoenix.

Rolled 1d50 : 18, total 18

[Burningplain]

Off topic: My character is so screwed. Belasair's current health: 50.

[NicTei]

Erik's Current HP:  73

Erik danced out of the way of the flames, but one of the tongues caught his arm, searing the skin and starting his old suit on fire.  Waving his arm around wildly, he finally managed to put the fire out.  Glaring at the part of his sleeve that was missing, he turned his gaze slowly to the elf.

With the same speed he'd displayed before, he rushed the fire-wielding elf, arms crossed with Teresa in his right hand poised over his left shoulder and Belmont in his left hand over his right shoulder.  As he came within striking distance, he threw both blades forward in a scissor-styled cut, aiming for the elf's neck.

Rolled 1d50 : 30, total 30

[NicTei]

 

Off-Topic:

No, you can still pull a win out of this, Burningplain/Belasair

[Burningplain]

Shimmying out of the way of the twin blades Belasair cried out as the blades sliced into his thigh and arm. Again the wounds healed in seconds, Belsair drew the strange knife and threw it to an elf standing on the sidelines who caught it and nodded once. Belasair did not expect to win. He went on the offensive, lightning howling all out from him, eletricity crackled all around. With out so much as batting an eyelid Belasiar attacked Erik, his fist blow, aimed for the arm was a faint and easily blocked by Erik but the real danger came from the short sword arcing up and aimed for Eriks stomach,
Sword Strike:

Rolled 1d50 : 45, total 45

Spinning back out of reach Belasiar hit his oponent with lightning, knowing he was unlikely to survive this, but glad his soul dagger was in the hands of someone who could bring him back.

[Burningplain]

Belasair's Current health: 20
I am so screwed. Oh well it was fun and Belasair has given his soul dagger to another elf who will resurrect him.

[NicTei]

Erik's Current HP:  28

Erik snarled as the sword impaled him, leaping back out of the elf's range.  In his anger, he'd dropped both of his weapons, and as the elf watched, the tribal Revenant markings around his eyes began to spread, covering the entirety of his face and even stretching onto his hands.  His deep maroon eyes began to glow blood red, and his fingernails lengthened into terrible claws.  With an animalistic howl, he charged for the elf, leaping into the air at the last possible second.

Now behind Belasair, he thrust his clawed hand forward, aiming for the heart.

Rolled 1d50 : 29, total 29

[NicTei]

Off-Topic:

Remember that you've got one more turn, BP.

[Saint]

Off-Topic:

Ooooh, intriguing!   38 to win, Beep.  Any less, and you've lost. (Well, 37's a draw)

[Chinaren]

~The crowd cheers~

[Burningplain]

Belasair cried out, screaming as the claws sank into his back, He collapsed to his knees, is lifesblood leaking out. In a desperate attempt to finsh the fight, to win he did something he had never done before. He cast the Infernus, fire slowly licked up his body and then blasted outwards in a shockwave of buring destruction, but alas due to his weakend state he could not cast the spell at full power, to do so would have most certainly killed him.

Rolled 1d50 : 45, total 45

[Burningplain]

The blast ripped through the arena engulfing the revanent in fire and burning it to ash.
Suddenly Belasair rose into the air, white light shone from his corpse as it rose, getting brighter and brighter until it was too bright to look at, the audience shielded its eyes. A beautifal song could be heard, permeating everything coming from everywhere and no where at once. The words were indistinguashable. THen the song ended and the light faded.
Belasair stood in the centre of the arena his swords raised in a salute. He turned to the Revanent's ashes and bowed.

OOC:  Well played Nic, that was almost too close.  I noticed the more awesome sounding my attacks were the better my hits got, hmm. Perhaps there is a correlation.

[NicTei]

A gust of wind blew through the arena as Erik's ashes reformed his body, muscles and sinews stretching back over fragile, bleached bones that grew stronger with each passing second.  As his hair repaired itself, flowing down over his back, he brushed a speck of soot off of his suit, not bothering to ask why his clothes had been repaired; as a Revenant, that was something he was used to.  Brushing his hair back, he picked up his cloak and two swords, snorting in disgust at the cheering crowds and the victorious elf.

"I'll look for revenge elsewhere, then."

[Chinaren]

~the crowd cheers.  Several women are so completely overcome that all their clothes fall off~

[Burningplain]

  *Smacks Chinaren round the back of the head for being a pervert.*

[Saint]

Very well.  The final match is nigh.  Tempest Vs. Belesair, for the pot.


Three days had passed since the last fight, and Tempest sat in the fighter's preparation area, just underneath the stadium.  In front of him was a narrow sheet of glass showing a similar cubicle to his.  It was trick glass, though; behind it was Belesair, his opponent, but all he saw was the three walls and a chair in the middle.

With no shirt on, Tempest inspected his damaged body in the reflection on the glass.  His entire torso was still purple from the fight with Heimlich.  He held a hand out in front of him, and it was quivering like mad.  It took effort to get it up there in the first place; he had to ignore a massive flux of pain.  Fighting this battle would be hell.

His opponent, though, had left the fight much worse off than he had.  The medics had managed to restore all the blood Tempest had lost, but they'd not been avble to treat his bruising.  The best they managed was an ointment that burnt his skin for three hours, and made literally no difference.  He reached behind him and grabbed his jacket- his tight battle shirt was not only torn, but painful to put on without putting pressure in all the wrong places -and put it on.  Against the chair were his various blades, and he picked up Alpha, Sigma, Delta, and Gamma, his four small blades, and sheathed them in the various compartments inside his jacket.  His skill was in using multiple blades and knives and swords, but he couldn't possibly fight with any more than his signiature four today without them bashing against his bruises.

He could have put all of the blades on the platform, thus not having to carry them into the arena, but that would only give his opponent a source of weaponry.  There was no surprise in picking a blade from the floor.

A light blinked ahead of him, telling him to take his place on the platform.  He quickly decided on grabbing Digamma and Stigma, his two swords; Digamma being full length, and Stigma being half length.  One in each hand, he stepped onto the platform, and it began to rise.


Beep, feel free to either start combat, or- if you'd rather I start -do a short intro chapter like mine above.

[Chinaren]

~The crowd cheers and readies itelf, eager for blud~