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Post by Deleted on Feb 25, 2017 16:33:48 GMT
Looking for work had proven more difficult than Karrhig had bargained for. Things had changed in the thirty years that he'd been absent, the city had changed. He'd spent his first day back tapping old contacts, visiting old friends, and none of them could give him a lead on any lucrative work. Mentions of two thieves guilds had sparked his interest but that would take time and effort. He was willing to put the work in but found himself severely lacking in funds, almost painfully so. His trip across the Widow Maker Sea had drained his wallet dry. He had all of two noruvians to his name that he'd happened to luck across in the street. Two, he chuckled to himself. He hadn't been this destitute since he was just a wee little thing, hiding in alleyways and eating moldy bread. The city had changed but so had he. Karrhig Baird stood before the gate of the arena garbed in his tattered leather armor, his twin hatchets hanging from his belt. His dull black hair had been loosely braided and the gray patch over his left eye was snugly secured. Scars of every sort crisscrossed his flesh. Scars that told of battles that had molded the man. He wasn't the half-starved boy he was when he'd arrived and certainly wasn't the brooding young man that had left the city. He was a different Ork altogether. The grey skinned giant rolled his shoulders, eliciting several sickly wet pops as bone and cartilage ground together. The barest hint of a smile graced his lips as he plucked the hatchets from his belt. "I suppose I'm ready as I'll ever be." His baritone words seemed to lack confidence but the look in his solitary eye spoke otherwise.
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Post by Trésor de Lys on Feb 26, 2017 2:44:41 GMT
Upon registration for the arena battle, the warrior would be given instructions to come prepared with armor and weaponry, along with an arranged time and date for their battle. No details would be given regarding the beast. On the day of their battle, a guard would meet the participant at the gate entrance to the arena. The expressionless guard would raise the gate for the participant, silently instructing them to pass through the rusted metal gate.
Once the participant entered the stadium, they would hear the slamming sound of the gate coming to a close, trapping them within the quarters of the open arena. As it was a low-level stadium battle, not many viewers would be present, but the few that were there would hoot and holler, cheering them on.
Overhead a booming voice could be heard as the announcer began. "Welcome ladies and gents, to another class a arena battle, joining us today is a once familiar face, but can he make it? Only time will tell." the announcer would turn his attention to the gate opposite Karrhig, where the gate would slowly rise to reveal... "Release the beast!"
From the opposite entrance, a large wolf appeared from the shadows. It's fur was darkened grey like soot and matted with old blood from previous fights, it's eyes were a piercing yellow in colour that could be seen at any distance. The beast emerged, prowling and circling its opponent. After a few moments of scoping out it's counterpart, the beast would sprint towards Karrhig, and would leap with it's claws out with the hopes of wounding it's opponent.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2017 15:42:51 GMT
"Think there's a bit of irony here, you and I. Wolf without its pack, Ork without its tribe. If I didn't know any better I'd say this is the start of some sort of allegory." Karrhig mused aloud as he assumed a defensive position. His eye roamed over the beast taking in its haggard appearance. From the looks of it, Kar wasn't the only one who had seen a fair share of battles. The blood coating its pelt was a testament to the men and women who had been felled by the beast. Kar had no intention to share their fates. As the wolf began to circle Kar suddenly began longing for the pike and shield of his soldiering days instead of the hatchets clutched in his hands. They would have made the next move a lot more efficient. The wolf charged and Karrhig acted on instinct pivoting to his left and bringing his arm across his chest. As soon as the wolf passed the Ork lashed out, flinging an arm nearly as thick as a small child at the wolf's right flank. Some misplaced sense of mercy caused Karrhig to attack with the back of his fist instead of his hatchet.
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Post by Trésor de Lys on Mar 2, 2017 3:20:56 GMT
The beast was struck on his right leg. The wolf fell to the ground, turned back to face the orc. The beast's eyes were bloodshot, and angry. The wolf would spring back sinking it's fangs into the orc's left leg as repayment. The beast's aim would be to draw blood, and it's fangs were certainly sharp enough to do so. Once it had it's fill, it would drag it's teeth across the skin, and would run opposite the orc to have a better view of it's opponent.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 4, 2017 2:41:26 GMT
The sharp pain in Karrhig's leg served as a painful reminder as to what mercy earned a man in the world. It was all fine and good when one was a priest of the divine or a some sort of fairly tale knight, but Kar was neither. The bite had been painful but not horrifically damaging, serving to shred bits from his decrepit armor and leave several gashes in his calf. If Kar had been a smaller man it might have been a different story, but the ork held his ground having tried to kick out at the beast as it wrapped it's maw around his leg. Blood trickled slowly down Kar's leg, leaving a small puddle of red in the sand of the arena. The wound stung but was little more than a flesh wound. The ork scowled as his right hand slipped from the leather strap of his hatchet and began to twirl it. "Could've ended this fight from the get go but I just had to play the honorable party." As the beast turned tail to put some distance between itself and Kar the hefted the small axe backwards before casting it towards the wolf, end over end it soared through the air looking to find purchase in the beast's flesh. Repayment for the blood already spilled. Despite his lack of depth perception Karrhig was rather skilled in the art of throwing axes and in the close proximity of the arena there was little chance of him missing his mark.
Using the momentum from his throw, Karrhig's hand followed through past his hip and with practiced ease slipped a large hunting knife from it's sheath. The nine inch blade looked like a child's toy in the ork's hand, but it made it no less threatening when he dipped into a knife fighter's stance, low with his dual blades held at the ready.
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Post by Trésor de Lys on Mar 11, 2017 6:13:06 GMT
The wolf was kicked from the clutch he had on the Ork's leg, as he sprung back up looking his opponent in the eyes. The wolf sensed the blood that he drew as it dripped from his fangs. The beast breathed heavily, staring intensely at the match he had met. The wolf noticed the object flying at it, and moved for it was going to strike it's middle, but fell short as the ax struck it's leg. The beast whimpered and whined in pain as the ax drew blood. The throw was powerful enough that it shattered the bone of the beast's leg, but it was not going down without a fight. The beast, still in pain with blood spilling out it's limb, hobbled off to the side, it's leg missing a patch of fur, and turned in an unnatural direction. The beast awaited it's opponent's next move.
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