Note on playing the game. Post what you wish your character to do and I will play the combat out round by round. You do not have to write out a long description of your characters thoughts and motives if you do not wish to, "move then basic attack, dodge for defence" works just fine.

For the sake of the play test, attacking fellow gladiators is not allowed in this session. Please try to keep it as a team. I will post the characters on a single sheet soon, using Tann's wonderful sheet he posted.

So we are not slowed down by absences, I need you to give me a 1-12 roll for what your character will do in combat and what you will do for defence. So if your gladiator favours the basic, you could set it up as:


Attack Basic 1-8
Finesse 9-10
Hard 11-12

Same with defence Dodge 1-10
Parry 11-12

Game on:

The guards are looking over at you with knowing glances and laughing among themselves. That can't be good. Not there can be any good in the situation you are in - slaves with no rights, not even to your own life. But still, there are ways to survive in this world and as you stand on the platform that is raised up by the turning wheels and pulleys powered by other slaves too weak to be gladiator, you have to be glad you are not them. At least you are a commodity to your owner - not just a moving part.

Of course it is not "owner: to the Al's - it is patron. Same as it is not public executions, it is the morning shows. Your patron is a man named Glutinous Max, a wealthy captain of the bread making industry who has begun dabbling in the slave trade. Seems he has lost a lot of money ever since a competitor started a "make your bread Glutinous free" graffiti campaign. Well, at least you get bread every night.

The sunlight stabs your eyes as you move into the arena. The blue sky and warm sunlight beckons above you and your think to a saying that you have hear throughout your training. "It is a good day to die, but it is a better day to live". The walls have been moved inwards to make the area smaller and more compact. Across from where you stand is a large cage covered in black cloth. From within the cage, you can hear growling and feel the cage shake even from where you are standing. It is at least 6 feet across and 8 feet tall and the guards that are posted on the walls to prevent you escaping are giving it a large berth.

You look over at the other gladiator in the arena and they are all new recruits like you and they are looking at you as well - An elf, A half-orc , a man and a woman. Will you be able to work together and defeat whatever is in the cage?

"Good morning people and citizens of Alacrity!!!!!" the Herald calls out from high above. "Today's entertainment is brought to you be Glutinous Max's Bread - Now with 30% less stones! Remember if it is not Max bread - is it probably poisonous and will kill your family!"

The crowd laughs approvingly as they munch on their free bread.

"Today for your delight, we have four new Gladiators. I give you, "He pauses to squint at the words written on his sheet of parchment. "Lucas the Elflord, Frita The Fashionable, Spartan The Cusser and Bulgar the Bald. These fine new recruits will be facing the fiend of the forest, the devil of the dark, the monster of the marshes - The Kodiak Bear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The pin above the cage is pulled out by a pulley rope which causes the cloth and the sides of the cage to fall at the same time to reveal a huge grizzly bear. It roars in rage and anger, standing its full seven and a half feet in height before lumbering out with its eyes on the four of you or the four bite size steaks in the eyes of the Kodiak.

"Those of us who are here to watch you die, salute you!" The herald finishes and the crowd cheers wildly.

Luksima stood along with the other three gladiators belonging to his patron, trying to ignore the gurgling in his guts.

Fear.
He felt it, but was not ashamed of that fact. Robbed, beaten, and sold into slavery, the elf knew that his life would most likely end in this godsforsaken arena. Still, though, the spark to live was strong within his breast; he did not want that fateful day to be today, not on the end of the claws and teeth of such a beast.

When the drunken fool that passed himself off as a Herald butchered their names, Luksima found himself both annoyed and amused. "Lucas the Elflord"? What nonsense.

If Luksima were an elflord, that so-called Herald was a prince of the menfolk. Silwen would titter in mirth to hear such a thing.

Apparently, his patron, the gluttonous bread peddler, had decided to invest heavily into the "elflord" image. "Invest heavily" meant that someone had taken a torn, stained, and slightly punctured set of leather armor and haphazardly painted it a garish green, then apparently smeared golden glitter in random places upon it. A filthy, frayed portion of a purplish curtain was tied around Luksima's neck in some parody of a cape, and some of the exposed skin on his face, arms, and legs bore crude whorls and squiggles made of smelly black ink. Apparently, these were meant to be someone's idea of elven battle tattoos - the very concept was preposterous, but the stinking brute that had scrawled them on his skin seemed pleased enough with the result to not beat the elf again, so Luksima viewed it as a net positive.

But now, he stood, nicked sword in hand, preparing to do battle with a creature that should be left alone, or encountered at range with a powerful longbow. With a whispered prayer for courage and forgiveness, the elf raised his blade to salute the crowd. May as well hope to make them enjoy the performance, he mused.

"Now then, menfolk!" he hissed. "We advance together, yes?"

With that, Luksima slowly made his way toward the bear, being sure to not outrun his fellow gladiators.


OOC:

Attack Basic 1-9
Finesse 10-11
Hard 12

Defence Dodge 1-11
Parry 12

This time around, I'm going basic attack, dodge defense. That's pretty much the default for Luksima.

Frella was already scowling even before she and the others who had been selected for this foray into the arena were hauled into the sunlight. The squinting induced by the sudden brightness did nothing but give her visage even more of a hatefully seething aspect. The bloodthirsty cheering of the crowd and the pompous voice of the herald, too, served only to darken her demeanor. And when that herald introduced her as "Frita the Fashionable," she could veritably taste her contempt for these people and this place.

She spit into the dirt and, adjusting her shield to insure that it didn't go unnoticed, offered the spectators a decidedly crude gesture in response to their hoots and hollers. "I'll show ye fashionable," she growled under her breath, settling her grip on the war-hammer she carried and her eyes on the cage across the arena, that was the important bit, wasn't it? When these disgusting Alacritites took her from her home and discovered it wasn't as easy to have their fishwife and eat it, too, they'd decided that, perhaps, it would be better to feed her to real animals. "Well," she snarled to no one as the pin was pulled and the enormous bear was freed from it's confines, "they'll have no such pleasure from me, I'll see to it that their bread is as blood-soaked as their filthy hands!"

"Now then, menfolk!" the elf man beside her hissed. "We advance together, yes?"

"Aye," she grumbled, her scowl, almost impossibly, setting itself deeper into her features as she shot a pointed look at the point-ear, "an' some of us b!^chfolk, as well, I reckon,"

Frella advanced with the "elf lord," taking a position on his flank that would allow his sword to take advantage of it's reach and, also, would allow the swings of her hammer to compliment and compound it's strikes.

((OOC: Frella's just hateful, her plan is to utilize her "teammates" longer reaching and faster weapons to goad the bear into giving her an opening but, as I mentioned, she's hateful and may end up charging the bear if she gets a chance, she'll likely want to try crippling it (i.e. blows to legs and/or paws) before smashing it's head in but, again, GRRRRRR!!! ))

Bulgarus' blood pumps savagely in through his body filling it with a fire and a hunger for the combat he'd so long sought. He hops on the balls of his feet, oblivious to those surrounding him on the platform. They are mere obstacles and tools to his pending glory and matter not to the half-orc for he had at last achieved his goal of fighting in the Arena!

Sunlight threatened to strip his vision from him as the platform lifted from the confined and dirty tunnels of the stalls below and revealed the mighty Bulgarus the Bold into presentation before the masses. Their cheers ring in his helm a cacophony of jubilation that spurred him to lift his beefy arms above his head and bellow loudly. He taunts the crowd into further fervor and completely misses the butchering of his name. He is elated and the adrenaline is pumping.

When the bear is revealed, Bulgarus hammers the handle of his great flail against his shield and bellows a reply to the creature's roar.

"Now then Menfolk," the lilting voice of the elf barely penetrates his helm. "We advance together, yes?"

"Advance!" Bulgarus roared hefting his shield before him and beginning the slow rotation of the deadly ball and chain. "Yes! Advance!"

OOC:

Attack Basic 1-9
Hard 10-12

Defence Shield Block 1-9
Dodge 10-12

Bulgarus will advance straight up column 8 until he's flanking the bear, and then he'll advance in along that row.

Ok straight up and attempting to attack his rear. Will wait for the others to distract him somewhat

ATTACK Basic: 1-6
Finesse: 7-12

Defense Dodge: 1-10
Perry 11-12

If I do manage to get behind him at any point I'll use Precise attack


(Hard to type on lap top rt now sorry for no RP post )

The Bear charges forward at the Gladiators with a fearful growl and death in its eyes. The four gladiator move slowly and cautiously knowing that this creature with its fur and claws is no easy opponents.

Luksima strikes first with the Bear as it closes on him and Frella. He manages to get a good strike in but the fur and hide of the bear is like armour. At least he manages to draw blood though (3 hp damage).

Sparticus takes advantage of the flank attack and the long reach of his weapon to strike as precise as he can. The spear only aggravates the beast and the spear tip is unable to pierce flesh (no damage).

Frella is in close to the Bear and strikes hard to its heads. The blow causes it to reel back and blood seeps from its mouth. (6 hp)

The bear respond in fury reaching out to swipe at Luksima and Frella. The elf manages to dodge the worst of the blow but his shoulder is slashed (3 hp damage). However Frella takes a hard hit to her backside that her armour can absorb only so much (7 hp damage)

Bulgarus lumbers up and attacks the bear with his flail. Despite the open flank and the heavy flail, it is like beating on a drum more than hurting an animal. (no damage)

This could get ugly fast.

Status:
LUK: 3 hp Damage
FRE: 7 hp Damage
SPA: No Damage
BUL: No Damage
BEAR: 9 hp damage

Moves?

Idiot, Luksima cursed himself. Allowing such a clumsy creature to catch you so easily!
At this point, there were not many options. Resigned to the fight, the elf chose to stay the course - for now. Still, there was little sense in standing here to take punishment if not necessary, so the elf decided on a slight change in tactics.

((OOC - same combo: light/dodge, save he's hoping to attack, then step back.))

"Ah! Beast!" the half-orc bellowed in frustration. Putting his shield arm towards the bear, Bulgarus attempts to move towards the creature's rear flank and strike again (Move to C6 - Same attack/defense).

"Gottermarung!"

Sparticus swore as his attacks did little to stop the beast of a bear. Realizing that picking a spear for a weapon in this instance may have been a bad choice, he moved once more for a flanking attack.

ATTACK Basic: 1-6
Finesse: 7-12

Defense Dodge: 1-10
Perry 11-12