|The games begin...|
The gates of the Pit opened once more, and the crowd cheered the four gladiators entering the arena. Mario the Undead gave just a silent, ominous salute, that contrasted with roaring of Ulrich the Orc. It was rumoured that Ulrich was in fact a wayward son of nobility who had himself written his own contract in hexameter, but those rumours were quite difficult to believe. The crowd also greeted Peter, who may or may not had something to do with the Greatswords. The last one to enter the pit was Dyre, a genuine northener fighting as Chaos.
|Surprisingly, the combatants went one on one|
The combatants spontaneously paired off, Empire against Undead and Orc agains Chaos. Mario, being more agile than his counterpart succeeded in flanking his opponent, while both Dyre and Ulrich took more cautious approach.
|Undead was thought to be the first to draw blood,|
but both his attacks and the riposte were blocked.
The crowd howled as the first sounds of steel meeting steel rang, but the first blood was yet to be drawn - in a short clash, both Mario's attacks were deflected, but the greatsword also met just a parrying khopesh.
|On the other side of the arena, the Orc nearly emasculated Chaos |
only to have his legs taken from under him.
The first to bleed was Ulrich, when hooks ripped some skin from his arm - but roaring with pain, he was quick enough to return the favour. Right there! and Dyre was staggering away, only mere inches saving him from gaining fat and singing a soprano. However, in the North, the men were real men and knew where their shield was, so a follow-up from Ulrich thudded on a successfull block. Dyre's riposte was vicious indeed, as the hooks wrapped themselves around Orc's leg - and Dyre then pulled with all his strength. The next thing Ulrich remembered was a very sharp pain as a physician straightened his bones, and then he blacked out again.
|All the reamining fighters then converged on each other...|
The Empire then surprised everyone with a short sprint and an unsuccessfull attack on Dyre, but Peter himself was being followed. More blood was spillt, but rather than having a three-way stand-off, the combatants went one after another.
|...to form a vicious "cycle of death".|
Summary: This would be a great match - had not Peter's player been tired and slightly distracted by his cellphone, and had some players not taken so bloody long when planning their moves and attacks. The location system means that one wrong guess and you may be done for, but I wouldn't mind - if the game was as short as it should be. I think I'll postpone the PF campaign so far, focusing instead on a SoBH minicampaign with four players, probably inspired by this.