Shanrath's Sandpit
OOC:
Good day, all, and welcome to Shanrath's Sandpit Arena. As an overview, this is a simple six-man arena using only physical combat. That's right, folks-- no magic allowed. Any spells your character knows are null from the beginning, and any enchanted equipment is not enchanted for the duration of this RP. And now, on to the backstory.
And, for the record, medieval/fantasy characters only, please. Nobody likes a time-clash.
A particularly wealthy individual discovered a treasure in his adventuring days, but now that his political stance has accumulated him a retirement fund, he no longer needs this treasure. This man, Shanrath, is a retired soldier who joined the political scene twenty years back, and in his off time he studied various magics that interested him. He decided that, for his own entertainment, he would support a local arena that was having difficulties drawing a crowd. Shanrath gave the arena committee his rules-- six individuals, three flexible teams of two, will fight under an enchantment he devised himself-- and last team standing wins the prize-- a mysterious treasure in his possession. Happy to have the support and the publicity, the committee accepted, and for the past six months, the event has been advertised to death. "Shanrath's Sandpit," the event has been called-- and thousands are ready to watch.
The rules are pretty straightforward.
1.) Three RPers, each controlling two characters.
2.) Physical combat only. Blades, bows and arrows, etc., but absolutely no magic.
3.) Godmoding is, of course, forbidden. If the other two players feel one is Godmoding, it will be brought to his attention, and if it does not stop, he will be removed or ignored and the RP will go on (and mods will be notified, obviously). And, as a rule of thumb, if you've posted ten times and you haven't been hurt, you're probably Godmoding. Take a damn hit.
4.) With Godmoding already addressed, this rule is reinforcement. Be reasonable. If you've got a sword coming at you from the right and an axe on the left, there's nowhere you can go. If you've got six arrows coming your way and you're wearing heavy armor, there's no way you can dodge it, and arrows are designed to penetrate. Again, I say be reasonable.
5.) This isn't a deathmatch, but please don't weasil out of fatal injuries just because you want your character to pull through. If you don't want your character to expire, don't bring him into lethal arenas!
When the winner is decided, he can RP out the ending procession and Shanrath's prize can be whatever the RPer wants it to be.
So, here are the people so far!
1.) Tribunal Power
--Sathis Hlaalu
--Mathias Blackharrow
2.) MaskedLegend
--Salis (Sally) Lydia
--Ralis Lerin
3.)
--
--
Just post your opener, and once we have everyone in, we'll start the bloodshed!
IC:
--------------------------------------
"Are you ready for this?" asked Mathias as he straightened his pauldron. Getting matched up with a stranger seemed more like a risk than a privelage, and it was a risk that Mathias would never have taken if he had more money to spare.
The Dunmer man looked up at his newly-assigned companion and blinked. "Am I ready?" he asked in a curious tone of his slightly raspy voice. "Of course I am, you dolt. You're the one still putting your armor on."
It may have been intended as rude, but Mathias laughed. "Sathis, was it?" he asked casually. "Listen, Sathis. I need a solder to fight with. Not an adventurer, not a thief, not a priest, not a damn fishmonger. A soldier. If you are a soldier, we will get things straight on the sands. If you are a fishmonger, then maybe you should stay here and ask one of the other contestants to kill you when you've left my sight."
Now, the roles were reversed; a rude jab did nothing more than to raise laughter to Sathis' lips. "I think we'll get along just fine, Mathias. As long as you use your shield as well as I use my spear, things will progress smoothly."
Mathias' eyes narrowed, but a smile curved his lips. "Hm."
Then, a voice called down into the underpits of the arena, where Sathis and Mathias were standing. "Gates fall in one minute!"
One section of the arena had been segregated, just for them to use as a personal preparation space. It was safe to assume that the other two teams of two would have the same space. It was a larged, curved-rectangular room with cobblestone floors and wooden benches along the walls. There was the narrow hallway that led to the city streets-- the one through which they had entered-- and the inclined hallway that led up to the sandpit of the large arena.
The two exchanged brief glances as they moved toward the ramp up into the gateroom. They stood firm, at the ready, eyes idly inspecting the wooden planks that seperated the metal bars of the gate before them. Soon, it would fall, and they would take their place in the arena; two of six combatants, weapons at the ready, prepared to kill.