The Dungeons (ToC Arena)


Hafnium

Despair Fetishist
Moderator
Jan 5, 2011
2,076
83
#1
Dank, dark, and gloomy, the battlefield shaped like a dungeon isn't the first choice for most of the warriors invited to fight in the tournament of champions. Cramped corridors made up of wet, dark gray stone walls dimly lit by lightstones are the norm in the dungeons, and they stretch out seemingly forever in a nearly impossible to navigate spiderweb. The only way to for a person to distinguish between the otherwise seemingly identical passageways and find their way comes in the form of the occasional barred cell, shackles on the wall, and the presence of torture devices such as iron maidens, wooden horses, and spiked walls. And, more recently, there are rumors that a dark presence has taken up residence in the dungeon. Otherworldly monsters have begun lurking in the shadows and striking out at the unwary, led by an evil beast who commits unknown tortures and then wipes the memories of all who lose in this place before they reappear in the feast hall.

But the truth is that the would-be goddess of war knows the perpetrators and their deeds, and while she could put an end to them she simply doesn't. Their presence is intentional, and the fear they inspire is desirable for her purposes. In a realm where the dead don't stay dead, things get stale as her guests acclimate and learn that they're free of lasting harm. The dungeons are how she sorts the warriors who are truly brave from the ones using their immortality as a replacement for real courage. She keeps an interested watch on those brash enough to venture into the dungeons despite the the growing rumors relating to the terrors she's populated it with and keeps careful track of each and every one of them with the skill to prevail against the odds, for they are sure to eventually be counted among her favored.

~~~​

On the floor of one of the larger dungeon cells -- a square, twenty-by-twenty windowless room made of the same damp gray stone walls -- sat one of the dungeon's terrors with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. She was prepared for battle, clad in darksteel scale mail with a blackened greatsword laid across her lap as her cold, green eyes watched for any signs of trespassers. Between brief, violent battles it was where she always was. It was her post, and she never left it. Any would-be heroes who made it through the other lurking horrors had to deal with her to proceed any further toward the one who commanded her, and thus far none had overcome her skill with a sword.

In truth, she was a concept created by the goddess of war based on the possibilities found in the memories of one of the realm's guests. The woman's true self was a faerie knight who only fought for what she believed were noble ends, but this being was a wicked subversion of that. The person haunting the dungeons was little more than the realm's goddess creating a shade -- one which believed she was truly alive -- based on a path where the woman had fallen from her path. The warped caricature now served the installed master of the dungeon, attacking any who showed themselves to her without remorse or mercy. And when she won, she took her own prizes from the defeated and drug them off to her master. And it was a routine that she expected to repeat many more times to come.

(Had a dumb idea and decided to go for it it. Open to any challengers. Expect to fight a high XP opponent with highly enchanted equipment who's not really holding back.)
 
Jan 8, 2011
6,168
63
#2
Re: The Dungeons (ToC Arena)

And so the rumors spread and spread. A dungeon, deep and grim, from which monsters emanated to attack those who chose to fight near its entrance. Supposedly it was home to untold horrors and beyond dangerous; some had ventured into it, seeking to cleanse the place, but none had ever returned. Instead they appeared in the feast hall the next day, their memories of the dungeon gone, replaced only with a feeling of foreboding and unease... And so it came to pass that a group of fighters agreed to explore the place, and perhaps put an end to whatever madness was going on in that cursed place!

Unfortunately the place was a labyrinth full of traps and monsters and other devious things, and the small band had been separated not long after the entrance. It was just as well, though, given how narrow and cramped were many of the spaces in the dungeon. Presently three new acquaintances wandered along, exploring tentatively, wishing that some of the stronger members of their group were there to join them... A tall, busty Ifrit with flaming red hair who wore naught but what seemed like a tiny suit of bondage equipment, a short blue alarune wrapped in leaves and vines, and an equally short su-ku-ta who seemed to be walking about in her underwear, her bronzed skin standing out next to the other two. Each of them seemed to be nervous to varying degrees, all watchful and wary of the many threats that could be lurking in the shadows.
 

Hafnium

Despair Fetishist
Moderator
Jan 5, 2011
2,076
83
#3
Re: The Dungeons (ToC Arena)

The fallen knight could feel the trio's presence long before she ever saw them. She rose to her feet, lifting her greatsword with one hand and leaning the flat of the blade against her shoulder as she walked forward, taking up a spot in the center of the room. The fact that three of them came around the corner and into sight of her cell watchpost all at once made no difference to her, and she issued her challenge as plainly as she always did. "This is as far as you get," she called out to the group, her voice dispassionate and with little weight behind it. Her black hand joined its pale counterpart on the handle of her blade, and she shifted into a fighting stance as she surveyed her soon-to-be opponents with cold, green eyes. "I'll make a gift to my mistress of all of you."
 

Tassadar

Panda King
Moderator
Nov 10, 2008
16,048
83
#4
Re: The Dungeons (ToC Arena)

Evil Tamonten: HP = 86, PP = 58, EP = 60, Status = Fine
VS
Qadira: HP = 46, PP = 36, EP = 66, Status = Fine
Izria: HP = 56, PP = 45, EP = 59, Status = Fine
Sophia: HP = 40, PP = 48, EP = 62, Status = Fine

Rolls
Initiative!
Tamonen = 51
Qadira = 52
Izria = 39
Sophia = 28

Qadira uses Fell Might X = 10 for 9 EP and 1 HP

Sophia casts Nature's Power on Izria.
Casting: Success.
Some bonuses are applied!

Tamonten uses Whirlwind in the center of the group.
Attack: 143 vs 84, 62, 24... All three are hit.
Damage: 82, ignoring all AV and DR.... Uhm...
Pleasure: 34 pleasure damage taken

Evil Tamonten: HP = 86, PP = 24/58, EP = 60, Status = Fine
VS
Qadira: HP = 0/46, PP = 36, EP = 57/66, Status = Down
Izria: HP = 0/56, PP = 45, EP = 59, Status = Down
Sophia: HP = 0/40, PP = 48, EP = 62, Status = Down
 

Hafnium

Despair Fetishist
Moderator
Jan 5, 2011
2,076
83
#5
Re: The Dungeons (ToC Arena)

The swordswoman charged with little extra provocation, pushing directly into range of the entire group. Starting from its position on her shoulder, the knight's sword made a wide, sweeping chop aimed at every enemy present, and would find each mark in turn beginning from the rightmost and ending at the leftmost. Her blade tore through clothing, skin, fat, muscle, and bone alike with little trouble, leaving each of her three opponents nearly bisected as they fell to the ground. They wouldn't die, of course -- at least not until her mistress was done with them -- but by the end of the day they would surely wish they had returned to the feast hall rather than knitting back together and being carried off.

She would return her greatsword to its resting place on her shoulder as she surveyed the fallen women. "What an odd collection of explorers," she idly remarked toward them. "My mistress will be able to make good use of such interesting stock." The fallen women didn't pick out her own finder's fee from among the interlopers or summon the outsiders to carry them off yet though, if only because she had a feeling that the fighting wasn't quite done yet.
 
Jan 8, 2011
6,168
63
#6
Re: The Dungeons (ToC Arena)

The three adventurers came across the cell and the woman inside, and all of them paused... A chill ran down their spines as she spoke to them in her calm and deadpan voice. Something told them that this wasn't normal, that this was a different sort of opponent than the monsters they had faced up till now. They gave each other a look and nodded, wordlessly forming a plan. "We're going much farther than this!" the ifrit interjected, a toothy grin spreading across her face as she raised one arm, building power from the ambient energy of the terrible place. "I've already got one mistress, I don't want another" the catgirl mumbled, standing still and seemingly doing not a lot of anything, though magic surged through her body all the same, strengthening her. The alarune didn't say anything, instead merely glaring at the woman as she summoned all of her mental strength, pouring power into the ifrit for one good shot at this woman who stood before them...

Things didn't quite go to their plan, however. The white-haired swordswoman rushed at them, closing the distance far faster than any of them had anticipated, and with one broad swipe of her rather large sword made quick work of them. The ifrit was the first to be cut down just before she could unleash the explosion of magic she had been working up to, the spell fizzling as the blade hit her in the side and quickly tore through her soft flesh, not even pausing as it sliced her spine in two and then came out the other side. A loud screech of agony escaped her lips as she spun with the slice, blood and gore pouring out of her as she tumbled to the ground in a twitching heap. The alarune was next, and though the blade didn't cut her quite so deep it still did its work, cutting open her stomach and spilling deep purple blood down her belly, her strange plant-like anatomy struggling to keep itself contained in her body as she stumbled back a step and then fell to the ground, her mouth open in a wordless scream of pain. The catgirl, despite the magic that filled her body and strengthened her muscles, fared no better than the other two. Though her reflexes were a little bit better and she managed to duck backwards she had been standing a little bit further forward than the others, and the sword caught her just under her ribcage, slicing her open in a diagonal fashion and sending her spinning off with her arms flailing.

In just a matter of seconds the group of adventurers was a bleeding, quivering mass on the floor, only the goddess of war's magic working overtime to knit their broken bodies together saving them from a swift death. Well, "saving" wasn't likely the right word to use given the circumstances... The three of them groaned in pain as they writhed on the ground, clutching their wounds even as they closed, all of them in shock and unable to speak or even to think straight.

They hadn't fallen quite alone, however... The ifrit's high-pitched scream had carried far, to the ears of a nearby warrior, and another few members of the adventuring group rushed to see what the fuss was about. They showed up not long afterwards, two of them... or was it three? In the lead was a short woman with long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, a bastard sword against her shoulder, wearing a short black dress. She seemed, however, to be completely blind, a lacy black blindfold covering her eyes. Behind her was a harpy with long brown hair who seemed ill at ease here in this congested dungeon. "What the fuck... Hold up! Enemy ahead!" she shouted, causing the swordswoman to stop and lift her sword from her shoulder. "A woman, big sword... Looks like she got the three dumbasses who ran off on their own too. Get ready!" she announced, peering at the demonic swordswoman who stood to challenge them. "Right. I'm ready to have a challenge from this place already" the swordswoman replied, a strange creature materializing out of the shadow beside her... It looked something like a pure-black dog, although misshapen and deformed, its body's borders seeming to shift and move from time to time. It murmured something unintelligible to all but its companion, its hollow eyes peering at its opponent as little tendrils of shadow slipped from its back, waving in a breeze that didn't exist.