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Welcome back to Gladiator Quest.

Previous thread: >>2307593

Last time we found ourselves in our first match in the arena in a seven on seven battle. You fought and slew a man in one on one combat and then when two men in purple tunics tried to team up on you, you literally disarmed a man, pried a sword from the severed arms fingers and threw it at your remaining opponent . You are currently finishing that fight, with the man bleeding from three wounds you’ve given him. The only other survivors in the arena are both men wearing blue tunics, same as you. You have two wounds yourself, a layer of skin has been shaved off the outside of your forearm and a small but deep wound seeps blood from the inside of your upper thigh.

Actions are rolled on a 1d100 and I take the best of the first three rolls with crits overriding. Damage for your short sword is 1d6+1.

>writing results of last roll
>>
>>2327601
You charge forward, sending the weakness of your opponent and spurred on by the cheer of the crowds.

To his credit, your opponent charges forward as well, pouring everything into one last push. He knows that he’s a dead man, even if he kills you he has two men waiting in the wings to finish him off, but he has chosen a glorious death at least.

The two of you meet in a shower of sparks as your blades collide. You quickly gain the upper hand, battering his defenses with strike after strike. His knuckles turn white around the hilt of his sword and his breaths go short as your assault continues but he stands firm.

With each strike the crowd cheers louder and louder until you can hear nothing but the rythym of thousands begging for the sand to be dyed crimson.

Finally the man makes a mistake. You feint high and swipe low before he can correct. Your blade bites deeply into the flesh of the man’s calf and you feel the jolt of metal colliding with bone and the sickening scrape as they rub against one another.

You pull your sword free in a spray of red. Blood pouring forth from the wound. The man stands for just a moment before uttering a groan of pain and collapsing to his knees.

You quickly kick his sword from his hand and it goes skittering through the sand. You stare down at the man with your sword pointed at his chest. The crowd begs for you to kill him. He looks up at you with hatred in his eyes. “Go on then, make it quick at least you bastard.”

>Give the crowd what they want.

>Walk away, he’ll never walk or fight again.
>>
>>2327635
>>Give the crowd what they want.
Later in our Career we can show mercy
>>
>>2327635
>Kill

DECAPITO
>>
>>2327652
>>2327911
Writing!

>>2327911
Also, big fan of the Warlord Quest
>>
You take a moment to bask in the admirations of the crowds before you act. The man spits defiantly to draw your attention back to him. “Don’t have the balls, do you?”

You look down, letting a dying man feel brave for just a momenet before you place warm steel to the side of his neck to line up your swing. All of his bravado fades in that second and he tries to recoil from the blade and fear fills his eyes.

With your free hand you grab a handful of his hair to hold him in place. One swing is all it takes to separate the man’s head from his shoulders. You lift the decapitated and bleeding head high above your own.

The crowd erupts into bezerk screaming before a chant overcomes them once again. With the pounding of hands and feet on the wooden bleachers comes the call “Blue. Blue. Blue...” You turn and make your way to the center of the area, leaving a trail of blood from your trophy as you do.

Standing in the center are your two brotehrs in arm, a giant of a man adorned with many fresh cuts along his arms bellowing a war cry and a small rat of a man smiling perversely and waving to the crowds without a scratch on him.

Metal screeches as the portcullis you entered through is pulled upwards into its housing. The three of you enjoy the warm sun and love of the crowd for a few moments before you make your way back into the pits that housed you. You take a moment to launch the severed head up into the crowds above you as you exit, bringing forth another wave of cheers.

Three men meet you inside of the tunnels that lead below the arena. Veteran gladiator’s in service to your owner, Battius. They congratulate you all on surviving and two lead your companions away while the third motions for you to follow him. “Let’s get those wounds tended to. That was some fine bladework out there, Battius will be happy to hear that his newest batch has some potential. You’ll be meeting him soon.” You nod, exhaustion setting in as you follow this man to the healers.

The two of you walk in silence the rest of the way to a small room that stinks of blood and worse. You see three other men, all in worse shape than you, being tended to women in thick robes. One cauterizes a man’s wrist into a stump and another holds a cloth in his mouth the muffle the scream.

The gladiator claps you on the back and takes his leave of the room, though you have a feeling he’s waiting outside for you. A woman approaches you, her face and form obscured by the same thick black robes as the rest of the women tending to the wounded.

Without a word she leads you to a bed and strips you of your tunic. She moves efficiently as she examines you for wounds. She leaves you for a moment before returning with a glass jar and clean linens. From the jar she produces a foul smelling green paste, which she packs into your leg wound and slathers over your arm before dressing them with the clean linen.

>cont
>>
>>2328019
With the same efficiency the woman hands you your tunic and motions towards the door. She quickly turns her attention to one of the other patients. You’d heard stories on your journey to the arena about the maidens of the pits being silent but never heard how cold they were. You slip on your tunic and head out.

You make your way out of the door and find your escort waiting for you. He nods and leads you back the way you came and down the same passage your compatriots had been lead down.

Before long you find the two of them waiting in a cart. The cart is barred like a cell and on your way to the arena was packed with all the called ‘fresh meat’ but now is empty aside from the other two surviving members of your team. The benches, made of hard wood, are now lined with pillows and in the center of the cart is several metal pots leaking steam from their lids.

The gladiator motions for you to climb aboard and as you do the gate locks behind you. The giant of the man is already digging into the food that was in the metal pots, grease runs down his chin and he laughs and spits food as you approach. “Looks like we’re eating good tonight!” The other man sits in the far corner of the cart sipping from a skin. “The wine is might fine as well.” He annouces with a small hiccup.

Do you:

>Sit with the giant and feast

>Drink with the scoundrel in the corner

>Take up your own corner and partake in a little of both

>write in

>>congratulations on making it through your first bout! I had eight possible characters written out and thanks to your choices you’ll have a choice of three to play as in the next post and then things will really begin.
>>
>>2328057
I guess eat? The adrenaline fades so all you have now is the shock of killing 3 men and the pain of your wounds. What the fuck were these idiots doing this whole time? teaming up on one dude and watching you from a distance or what?
>>
>>2328057
>Take up your own corner and partake in a little of both
Yah, this seem good enough for now
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>2328102
Well the big guy you saw was fighting two guys at once, and the other guy you saw fighting at least one guy if not two. By the time both of them were finished fighting it was just you and one other guy so they let you handle it.

But rolling between the two
>>2328102
1.
>>2328951
2.

Also, I want to apologize for the lack of consistent updates! I picked a time where I thought life would be calm enough for me to run and post way more frequently but murphy’s law always has to come up. I’m going to stick with this quest until we finish it though.
>>
>>2329167
Writing.
>>
You make your way over to the metal pots and find tucked between them small loaves of bread, metal bowls, and several of the skins that you assume are filled with wine.

You grab some of the bread as you fill a bowl with a thick stew of some kind, the smell reminds you of the hare stew your mother would make when you were a child.

You make your way back towards the far corner of the small cart, taking several of the extra pillows and padding your seat with them. You make yourself as comfortable as you can, the post battle ache settling in and leaving your muscles and joints sore and stiff.

The giant of a man looks at you over his bowl as he tips the remaining liquid into his mouth. Liquid dribbles down his chin as he refills his bowl and speaks to you. “You killed three of the whoresons? Impressive. Small one over there claims he killed two but I only saw him slay one. I am Ildutas, of the Andosini. I killed two with my fists. The steel they gave us was worth its weight in pig shit.”

The small man laughs. “The Iberian thinks himself a modern Heracles, and he quite looks the part. What was your father? A giant?”

The larger man growls. “My Mother was an ogre small man, so you best watch out. Ogres love manflesh.” He went on to prove his point by tearing into a hunk of meat from his stew before turning his attentions back to you. “The Greeks always see themselves as so superior, eh? But by my count, you’ve killed the most so who are you, oh great killer of men?”

>>Who are you?:

>Aedan, son of the chief of a Celtic tribe. You cut your teeth battling ogres and ambushing Roman patrols. You come from an untamed land where creatures and magic are more common. You’ve fought your entire life, against man, beast, monster, and everything in between. You’ve ran naked into battle painted with woad by your shamans and torn legionaries limb from limb. Though one day your luck ran out and the Romans overcame your band of warriors, most were killed by few were taken as slaves and sold to the pits.
Bonuses:
>>Fearless, life amongst the wilderness has shown you the worst there is and you’ve come out deadened to fear.
>>Bonus against large enemies, having fought ogres regularly you know where the big ones hurt the most

>cont
>>
>>2329295
> Decurius, the Roman legionnaire. You were a Roman citizen and you did your civic duty and signed on as a soldier and found it to your liking. You quickly rose to the rank of Decanus and lead a small group of men. Your century was posted north of the Danube river and faced constant attack by Germanic tribes that refused to be bought or conquered. You learned to fight defensively rather quickly, responding to raids from any direction at any time. One day when you had drawn patrol you came back to your fort to find the entire century massacred. You lead your men to the location of the nearest fort in an effort to report what had happened. In the end, only you survived the constant harrying of the raiders who chased you. You were wounded though, and a family found you lost in the forests half mad and near dead. They nursed you back to health but you were a changed man. Guilt of your failure plagued you and when you were found and accused of being a deserter you did not argue. When you were sold as a slave, you did not argue. When you were handed a blade and told to kill in the pits, you did not argue.
Bonuses:
>>Commander of Men: you learned to lead, to strategize, to organize. Those skills may yet come in handy once you’ve gained the trust of the men around you.
>>Friendly Face: You are Roman, the crowds will take a liking to you quicker and you will find patrons easier as you gain fame. Who knows, they may even ask for you to be spared should fate turn on you one day… if they love you enough.

>Gerhard, the Germanic terror. Since you were a boy you had a spear, or axe, or bow in your hand. You hunted and killed beasts and lycanthrope alike that prowled your forests and frequently felt the brush on deaths hand on your cheek but you turned away each time. You joined raiding parties and lead them but your true knack was in dealing death and surviving to tell about it. You were taken in the night by slavers and when they told you you were to be sold as a gladiator you decided not to slaughter them. To be rewarded for killing? To have the people cheer your name? These are things you could look forward to.
Bonuses:
>>Survivor: You’re one tough son of a bitch to kill. A skill that will serve you well in your rise through the pits.
>>Butcher: Once men get to see the depths of who you are, they will know fear. You revel in death and slaughter and that will shake them and give you the edge you need to continue plying your trade.


>> I’m going to leave this vote open for the rest of the night and some of tomorrow morning because of the weight of this decision.
>>
>>2329336
>>Gerhard, the Germanic terror.
Like the sound of him or Aedan
>>
>>2329336
Gerhard
>>
>>2329336
>Gerhard, the Germanic terror
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
>>
>>2329354
>>2329484
>>2329751
Gerhard it is then! Writing.
>>
You take a pull from the wineskin and roll it around in your mouth. Someone spent a decent sum on this, it is one of the finer wines you’ve had and you’ve raided Roman supply wagons quite a few times and drank your fill of fine vintages.

You stare at the giant of a man. “Gerhard. Of the Lombards.” You fill your mouth with a portion of the still hot stew. He shifts to get a better look at you. “One of the northerners then? Not surprising, you’re built like someone who’s shit in the bushes his whole life.” He laughs, a deep resounding bass that fills the cart as it bumps along the roads. You stare at him until his laughter fades away. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you? I’ve been told I could talk the ear off of a Roman senator!” He laughs at himself again. “Listen, big man. I am not here to talk, I am here to kill until every one of these Roman pricks knows my name.”

The big man smirks. “Tough one, I like it. I think we will be great friends.” The greek chimes in. “Or I’ll get to see him rip you apart Iberian. I don’t think your strength would be enough to kill him.”

“Well! You underestimate my strength then little man! I could pull both of your arms from their sockets without thinking of it! I could bend these bars and rip them free of their housings!” At this point you turn your attention to the countryside rolling by beyond the barred walls of your cart. Your two traveling companions argue back and forth as you watch wheat fields and vineyards stretch at far as the eye can see. You regret never traveling this far south before, these lands are ripe for the picking.

You drift off to sleep with thoughts of burning villas and slaughtered Romans filling your head.

You are woken with a splash of cold water and immediately act. You spring forward and clutch the throat of the man who woke you, beginning to squeeze the life from him. The man chokes and sputters under your weight as you drive him onto his back. You feel cold steel press to the back of your neck before you can finish the job. “Let him go. Now.”

You twist to look over your shoulder. The gladiator who escorted you to the healers stands above you with his blade drawn. He repeats himself. “Now.” The tip of the blade bites your skin as he applies pressure.

You loosen your grip. “Never wake me again.” You hiss at the man as you stand and turn to face the gladiator. You take measure of him, he’s Roman by the look of it, a pretty boy but one who’s seen his share of killing. “Hide your steel before I take affront, unless you wish to die today.” The Roman scoffs and prepares to retort when a voice calls out. “Enough!” All turn and bow their heads to an elderly man. “I won’t have my gladiators brawling like drunkards in the streets.” The roman looks up. “Battius, sir, he was going to kill Guis. I was stopping him.”

>cont
>>
>>2330143
The old man makes his way towards you, looking you over. “Good, he has fight. He will need it when he returns to the games.” He addresses you. “You are mine now, and I won’t have you acting like a mad dog. Atticus is my best fighter and I won’t have him wounded unnecessarily in a scrap with new blood.” At this close you can smell the sickly sweet perfume that clings to him. His lavish robes gently sway in the breeze as he stares into your eyes. “How many did you kill today?”

>Tell the plain truth. You killed three.

>Boast. You would’ve killed them all, the three you killed barely wet your appetites.

>Defy. Forget this old man, you won’t suffer the Roman drawing steel on you. (Fight Atticus, you are currently unarmed)

>Write-in.
>>
>>2330152
>>Tell the plain truth. You killed three.
>>
>>2330152
>>Tell the plain truth. You killed three.
>>
>>2330152
>Tell the plain truth. You killed three.
>>
>>2330152
Boast
>>
>>2330158
>>2330162
>>2330164
Pussys, if you wanted to be a str8 shooter you should have picked the roman
>>
>>2330152
Boast
we're a proud warrior
>>
>>2330152
>>2330180
Honestly yeah you're right, changing my vote to
>Boast
>>
>>2330180
No. Why boast though? It does nothing more than make us seem a braggart. But since your here i will leave then.
>>
>>2330152
>Tell the plain truth. You killed three.
>>
>>2330282
>>2330164
>>2330158
Plain truth

>>2330177
>>2330184
>>2330187
Boast

I’ll give a few more minutes for a tie breaker and if not I’ll roll
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

Plain truth - 1

Bragging - 2
>>
>>2330380
fuck why would we be a fucking pompous asshole who boasts? We are a fucking force to be reckoned with and there is no reason to brag. We know we are fucking fearsome.
>>
>>2331174
Well it also good - we come here to kill like in our lore said - boast may yield more challenge in the future and more challenge mean more fame and stuff
>>
>>2330380
Plain truth. No boasting shit.
>>
You grin at the old man. “Today? Three. Put steel in my hand and me and your pretty champion here can move that count to four.” To your amusement you feel Atticus tense and prepare to speak but Battius simply raises his hand to silence him.

The old man stands silently before your for a moment. “Good. Your pride will bend the crowds to your will, if you can back up what you say.” He steps back and walks to the other two fighters you traveled here with examining them and asking them how many they killed. He nods as they tell him. “Three new gladiators join our ranks today!” He shouts as he walks back toward some the buildings your cart had stopped in front of. You hear from inside the compound several dozen cheers, Atticus and Guis both refrain as they fall in line behind the old man. “Follow me.” The old man waves the three of you to join his procession.

You fall in line last, after the Greek who seems obviously drunk and the giant who grins like a fool. The old man narrates as you walk through a large set of metal gates that are pulled closed after you. “You will have run of my compounds as long as you are in my service. You will remain in my service as long as you live through the games and maintain your training regimens. Atticus and the other senior gladiators will assign the work schedules.” You look around in the large courtyard you’re in. A large ring dominates the center of the space, obviously for mock battles and several smaller areas dot the edges of the courtyard, each with dummy’s to practice against or targets to throw javelin at. A well sits off in one corner. Several of the training areas are being used. Men spar with dulled blades or stab straw dummies with all their might. Battius continues, “You will be assigned rooms with comfort equal to how you fare in the games. The crowd loves you? You make me more money? You get more amenities.” He laughs to himself. “These halls were home to three champions of the Great Games! They fought in front of the emperor himself and won. That or death are the only things I expect from you.” He leads you into a large building filled with dozens of smaller rooms. “I will leave you to your quarters for the night, tomorrow you will be born anew! Forged in the crucible of these halls to kill and maim for the glory of Rome! I have entered our academy in a series of three games in a fortnight. I will expect the three of you to participate. So train well, you won’t be facing boys barely able to hold a sword there.” He begins to leave and turns his attention to you one last time. “I expect a lot from the man who would slay Atticus or Battius’ Butcher, the slayer of one hundred men.” You grin. “Only a hundred?” And with that he leaves you, ignoring your comment.

>>What do you want to do?:

>Retire for the night

>Explore the compound

>Look for trouble

>Write in

>> I definitely struggled with how to handle this post, I ended up with a little of both.
>>
>>2331862
>>Retire for the night
>>
>>2331862
>Explore the compound
Not trying to die just yet. Let's explore our surroundings, our Germanic blood demands it!
>>
>>2331862
>>Explore the compound
Maybe meet some fellow gladiators
>>
>>2331862
>retire for the night
>>
Rolled 20, 19 = 39 (2d20)

>>2331891
>>2332127
Catch some Z’s

>>2332064
>>2332057
See what’s around your new home

I’ll give it five more minutes before I call it and roll. Also, rolling for a possible random event for either option.
>>
Rolled 9, 4 = 13 (2d20)

>>2332145
Twenty means roll twice and take both, of applicable.
>>
>>2331440
>>2331174
>let humble man

What's the point of slamming nerds if you can't boast about it? It's not like we are lieing about our exploits
>>
Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>2332145
Sleeping - 1

Exploring - 2

A little of both - 3
>>
>>2332169
Writing. I’m going to start, if it makes sense, keeping the option open to combine ties.
>>
Atticus smirks at you as Battius leaves. “Let me show you to your quarters.” He motions for Guis to lead the other two as he leads you down to the far end of the building, past the privy, to a small corner room. The door, if it could be called that, is little more than a thin sheet of fabric that blows in the wind and does nothing to stop the stench of human waste that clings to the area around the privy. Atticus pulls aside the curtain to show you the room, it is little more than a bed with a small water basin for washing your hands and face and a window with a candle on its ledge. If you outstretched your arms you could touch both walls at the same time. Atticus turns to walk away. “Hope you enjoy it, nothing but the best for our future champion! Germanic filth.” He laughs as he saunters away.

You are tempted to rest, but it would amiss not to get the lay of the land first. You turn back down the long hall that leads to your room and back towards the center of the compound.

As you leave the building that houses all of the gladiators you take a moment to enjoy the cooling air as the sun slowly dips behind the horizon. You wander the compound aimlessly, you find that it is quite large and entirely walled off from the outside world. The first location you find is a small bathhouse, the cool and clear waters currently are being used by three Gladiators and double as many attendants. Young attractive women and men bring fruits or pour waters over the heads of the men relaxing.

The second location you find is the slave quarters, most of those attendants are the residents here, along with the cooks and men who tend to the grounds.

You cross the grounds to the remaining buildings, finding one to be stables. Horses bray softly in each stall. You find a fourth building to be a kitchen and storehouse for food goods, the cook ovens have long since cooled but an armed guard watches the storehouse.

You pass by the well as you make your way to the final building, which turns out to be a forge and armory. As you pass by the well you hear a chittering sound emanating from within but an ox of a man quickly draws your attention. “Hail! You’re the man who brought me this fine steel, eh?” He holds aloft the short sword you ‘borrowed’ from a man in the arena today. “Battius gives me naught but shit steel to work with. If you’d like, I could forge this into something else for you. I’d say there’s enough steel to make you a nice spearhead, or even a bident if that’s more your style. Or I could make a nice pair of daggers. Or, if you’re interested in something a little more.. exotic. I could make a gauntlet dagger... it’s something I’ve seen a few times. It goes over your hand and turns your arm into a blade. You lose the use of your hand beyond the metal casing making it a club but you can punch with the thin dagger at the tip and it’ll bite through armor. Or you can leave it as a sword.. I guess.”

>Weapon change?

>cont
>>
>>2332214

>>Spear -
>Damage: 1d8 (1d10 two handed)
>Bonus: Long Range - Attack opponents outside of their reach.
>Weakness: Poor Handling - hard to fight once’s they’re inside your reach

>>Bident -
>Damage: 1d8 (1d10 two handed)
Bonus: Breaker - catch blades between the twin tips and either disarm or destroy an opponents weapon
Weakness: Inaccurate - the two prongs are hard to aim, tending to surround vital organs rather than penetrate them

>>Daggers
>damage: 2d4
>Bonus: Accurate - easily slide between ribs and armor plates
>Weakness: Close Range - you have to be close

>>Punch Dagger
>Damage 1d6+1
>Bonus: Armor Penetration - thick hides and armor are no match
Bonus : Exotic - the crowds love a gimmick
>Weakness - One handed, while the gauntlet protects your hand, it also renders it unusable while wearing it.
>Weakness - Extreme close range - need to be in punching distance

>>Short Sword
>Damage: 1d6+1
>Bonus: Versatile - the sword can foster many different fighting styles
>Weakness - Common, most enemies are used to fighting someone with a sword
>>
>>2332369
>Spear
We're probably more used to it from back home.
>>
>>2332369
>Bident
If anything, I think our German friend would use axes. I don't know much about history, so don't quote me on that.
I think disarming or destroying is useful. Plus, we can ditch it anytime and pick up something more useful.
Either this or wrist dagger, we can pick up a sword in the other hand from our foe.
>>
>>2332490
support this
>>
>>2332369
>Daggers
Ha ! Armor !? pfffff !! - Let see if armor can protect them again me
>>
>>2332407
>>2332490
>>2332505
>>2332989
My mistake, I tried to post the second half of the update quickly on my way into work. This weapon is yours, you got it as part of the roll on the random event table and partly because I was planning on rewarding you all for grabbing the sword anyways. You’ll still get the standard issue weapons, which depend on how Gerhard’s training goes before the next matches. So I’m not sure if that’ll change votes. I’m still at work but I’m going to try to either update before I leave or before I crash later tonight, I’ll leave the vote open until then.
>>
>>2333400
cool !
>>
>>2332490
Supporting the axe idea if not, punch dagger
>>
>>2332490
>>2332505
>>2333453
Going to take this as a majority for Bident. Axes will be coming soon though, I planned that as part of one of the starting gear sets.
>>
File: 1519375430633.jpg (244 KB, 779x851)
244 KB
244 KB JPG
>>2334174
Welcome back !
>>
You think over it for a minute. “A Bident, I’m used to a spear but at the closer ranges of the arena it would just get in the way.” The man smirks. “Good choice, a man of taste finally arrives! No more prissy boys demanding I forge them simple blades.” He pulls heavy gloves free from his hands and limps forward from behind the barrels of coal he was shoveling into a forge. “I’ve forgotten my manners again. I’m Brennus.” You get a good look at him and while his body is built large and strong from long hours behind an anvil, you see a debilitating wound. It looks as if his calf was crushed by a maul and never reset, he hobbles at steadily as he can on the lame leg. He extends a hand for a shake and you take it. “Gerhard.” He nods. “Well Gerhard, I’ll have your weapon ready and finely polished by the next time you set foot in the arena.” He turns and make his way back towards the forge and you notice, slightly exposed by the collar of his shirt what looks like the beginning of a very nasty scar.

You shift idly on your feet for a moment. You’ve completed your tour of the compound and counted about three score gladiators through the grounds with double as many slaves. Something causes the hair to prick up on the back of your neck, maybe it’s just a chill from the cold wind though.

>What do you do next?

>Chat with Brennus (Write in what to talk about)

>Investigate that sound from the Well

>Try to find the source of your uneasiness

>Retire for the night

>Write in
>>
>>2334205
>Investigate that sound from the Well
>>
>>2334188
Thank you, fell asleep when I got home last night, sorry about that!
>>
>>2334238
Supporting
What could that sound be?
>>
>>2334248
No worries, just glad this thread is still alive
>>
>>2334238
>>2334250
Going to call it early so I can get another post in before work. Also, sorry for what’s about to happen. It was the 19 I rolled on the random event table, not me being as asshole.
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

Something doesn’t feel right, the back of your scalp itches like it had numerous times before an ambush in the past. You glance around but see nothing obvious. You stalk the courtyard for a moment, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

The only sound that draws your attention is the chittering from within the well. You slowly make your way to the small stone structure. As you grow closer your nerves grow, something is wrong. You steel yourself, you are Gerhard slayer of men, there is nothing that stalks the shadows that you can’t slay.

You pass the targets, javelin and pillum still jutting from the straw circles, and creep to the edge of the Well. As you come upon it’s edge the chittering has grown loud. You slowly peer over the edge and find from the darkness a large pair of eyes meet your own. A shrill chittering screech resounds from within the Well and something large leaps from the shaft.

Your nerves save you from an instant decapitation, you leap back as oily dark green skin glistens in the moonlight and erupts from the Well.

You nearly fall into the targets as this creature lands in front of you. It’s body is easily double the length of yours and it crawls on all fours, hugging the ground closely. It’s limbs end in slick large claws and stretch out nearly the length of its already overgrown body. It looks at you with nothing but predatory instinct in its eyes, the eyes set deep within a head that is both crocodilian and insectoid. Several patches of its skin are torn away and leak black ichorous blood onto the cooling stones of the compound.

Bile rolls in your gut from the mere sight of this foul beast and you fight the urge to give into terror.

>holy fuck! What do you do?

>Weapons! There are weapons in the targets around you, a javelin can double as a spear in a pinch. You must face this beast.

>Run! What in the fuck is this! Get me out of here!

>Rally the gladiators. Try to wake them from their sleep or gather those still training.

>Write in

>>I need a roll of 2d100, the first die is to overcome fear against a static DC and the second is against my roll to see if you can attack/defend/escape this monster.
>>
And with that, I’m off to work. I’ll try and post while im there but can’t make any promises. So this vote will be open for a little while at least. Any comments, criticisms, or questions are welcome too.
>>
>>2334316
>Weapons! There are weapons in the targets around you, a javelin can double as a spear in a pinch. You must face this beast.
>>
Rolled 28, 6 = 34 (2d100)

>>2334369
>>
Rolled 36, 26 = 62 (2d100)

>>2334369
+1
>>
Rolled 73, 52 = 125 (2d100)

>>2334369
>Weapons!
We fear nothing
>>
Rolled 76, 100 = 176 (2d100)

>>2334369
>>
>>2334369
>>2334377
>>2334727
>>2334743
>>2335733
Writing! I’m going to take the crit
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

Fear of this creature may have brought a lesser man to his knees. You are not a lesser man.

You spring into action, the only though on your mind the same as this creatures. To kill. You wrench a javelin free from the straw target and set it for the creatures leap.

You’ve hunted beasts before, they usually leap right in. But this one seemingly recognizes the danger your spear would pose to it and instead stalks to your side. Good, an intelligent enemy. Maybe even a challenge.

You wait, letting this foul creature take its measure of you. It swipes it claws at you several times, testing your defenses. Each swipe is met with the tip of your spear and the beast gives a resounding growl as you bloody it’s digits.

You decide you’ve had enough of this creatures games and you spring forward, ducking under a swipe that could’ve bisected a man in full armor. You launch the tip of the javelin at the shoulder joint of this slimy foul thing and the steel bites deeply into its flesh. It howls and chitters in pain and leaps back from you.

As it leaps back you twist the javelin tip and tear it free, doing as much damage to the joint as you can. The creature favors its wounded side as it starts to circle you again. You watch as a generous amount of the slick black blood pours free and splatters in the ground.

You grin. Maybe it’s not as much of a challenge as you’d thought.

>Keep Attacking! You’ve got it wounded already.

>Get some help. This isn’t the arena, others can help but the rest of the men in the area are terrified of the creature, you’d have to rally them.

>Write in

>Give me a 1d100 with your actions and beat my roll.
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>2338134
>>Keep Attacking! You’ve got it wounded already.
>>
>>2328019
That's some good writing QM , but it bothers me that the woman didn't clean the wounds first
>>
Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>2338134
>write in

pull out another javelin , throw it at the beast as a distraction and go for another strike with the current javelin
>>
>>2338664
support this
>>
>>2338247
Thank you, I’ve noticed a few things like that that i should’ve added. Usually when I Write it’s painfully slow because I sit and stew over the little details like that but with QMing I’ve been trying to force myself to write quicker, especially with the long times between posts I want to get the updates out there. I’m definitely working on finding a balance still.
>>
>>2338664
>>2338872
Writing
>>
Rolled 2 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>2339121
Forgot to ask for a damage roll this time, the crit made it max damage last time. I’ll roll for the throw and the stab.
>>
Rolled 4 (1d8)

>>2339173
Supposed to be a minus for throwing. And then two handed damage roll for the melee javelin
>>
>>2339182
to add a minus to the modifiers just put "+-" instead of just "+"
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

The creature has given ground, you are not one to let such advantage go to waste.

Without thinking you quickly grab a second javelin, the light spear fitting nicely in your hand as you raise it above over your shoulder and launch it towards this beast.

The fact that you’re already readying to advance and attack again and the speed with which you have to attack hampers the power you can put behind the throw. The javelin hurtles forward and the creature leaps to dodge the attack.

The projectile bites into the flank of the dodging creature, the wound mostly superficial, but it’s done it’s job. The leap and screech of pain keep the creature distracted long enough for you to do what you do best.

With both hands gripping the short wooden length of your weapon, you propel it forward into the side of the creature and rip it back outwards. You feel the reverberations of the tip hitting what you assume is a rib all the way up into your shoulders. The tip of the spear is sticky with the foul black blood and as your draw your weapon closer to your body to defend against a counter attack you notice the foul stench of it.

The creature limps on a wounded leg and blood pours freely from its side. Hatred fills its eyes as it croaks another series of chitters at you. Your body tenses as you prepare for another clash with this horrid beast.

Somewhere, in the small part of your mind not focused on this battle, registers the sound of alarm bells ringing and men screaming for others to awaken.

>Keep fighting aggressively. You’re cutting this thing to ribbons.

>Go on defense, Let this wounded thing come to you and bloody it’s nose.

>Stall for help. Other will awake soon and help kill the beast.

>Write in.


>> Beat my roll of 1d100 to succeed on your action and if you do, roll 1d8 for damage.

>>Just a heads up, the average human has about 30 HP, at least a rival in the arena will. This creature has a decent amount more than that, though it wasn’t at full health before the fight. And as of this turn you’ve done 15 damage to it.
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>2339257
>>Go on defense, Let this wounded thing come to you and bloody it’s nose.
>>
Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>2339257
>keep fighting agressively
>>
>>2339259
nvm i support this
>>
**Rolled 89 (1d100)**

>>2339257

>Taunting it and finish it when it go near us - let the other see our find jobs AND toss the head of the monster at the "handsome boy" while saying "to you, princess"
>>
>>2339847
No quotes. Just dice+1d100 in the options field.
>>
>>2339852
thanks anon
>>
I wanna fight some cute girls to the death soon.
>>
>>2339858
No problemo. You seem better than weird cutegirlslayer9000 over here.>>2339863
>>
>>2339895
I could do it in Shadow of Rome and Gladius, don't judge me.
>>
>>2339908
Too late for that mate. Thumbs down.
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>2339257
Pretend we're in the ring
Shout "Mercy or death?" to the crowd
Then act accordingly
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>2339257

>>Go on defense, Let this wounded thing come to you and bloody it’s nose.

Let's give it a little taunt too
>>
Rolled 2 (1d8)

>>2340217
>>
Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>2339257
>Keep fighting aggressively. You’re cutting this thing to ribbons.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d8)

>>2340226
>>
>>2339259
>>2339286
>>2340217
Defensive wins. Sorry about no update yesterday, gf came over.
>>
Rolled 68 (1d100)

You crouch low and slowly back away from this beast, keeping the tip of your javelin pointed directly at it.

“Come on then! I’ll wear your skin in my next match!” You tense as it seems the creature understands you. It chitters hatefully and you can see it’s muscles readying for a leap.

The creature propels itself into the air with inhuman strength but it isn’t leaping directly at you. You’ve seen the lycanthropes that hunt the forests of your home slay men with the same trick. The creature leaps slightly to your left, intending for you to stab at it and miss and then give you a nasty swipe with its claws.

You roll as it leaps and bring your spear up into its underbelly in three quick strikes. Each strike penetrates the skin, though not at deep as you like as the creature twists away from the head of the javelin. You roar in defiance as you step back, giving yourself the distance to strike again. “Child’s play! Can you not even land a single strike?!” The creature howls in response, preparing to attack once more.

You notice that men are becoming emboldened by how handily you’re cutting through this beast and slowly inch forward with weapons in hand.

>Let them help, keep on the defense

>Claim your kill, keep on the defense

>Let then help, switch back to offense

>Claim your kill, switch back to offense

>>Give me a 1d100 roll and if you beat mine, 1d8. I can’t believe how well this fight is going, I don’t see it lasting much longer, two or three rounds.
>>
Just realized thread is dead, will make a new one quick and repost the last update.
>>
>>2343766
It aint ded
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>2343764
>Claim kill , switch to offense
>>
>>2343764
>claim your kill, switch back to offense
>>
Is QM kill?
>>
Rip in peace QM




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