Duel:Athoro v Gruz

Judges: Rheven, Calen, Leilah (mid)

Victor: Gruz

Gamorg Arena A makeshift arena has been put up here, bones of large animals making up the walls as the arena floor is comprised of crushed rocks and other non-valuable gems found in the quarries nearby. Around the wall on the outside are the stands, stumps and logs of various sizes, providing seating to peer through the shoddy enclosure that is known as the sporting arena for game in Gamorg.

Gruz is a ogre and seems to be a warrior. Gruz is wearing black-spiked fullplate on his body, black-horned-full helmet on his head, goblin-teeth earring on his left ear, goblin-teeth earring on his right ear, necklace of goblin-skulls on his neck, black-spiked-shoulder covers on his shoulders, black-robe sleeve on his left arm, black-robe sleeve on his right arm, black-spiked gauntlets on his hands, black-spiked bracer on his left wrist, black-spiked bracer on his right wrist, spiked knee-guards on his legs, and black-spike-tipped boots on his feet. Gruz is using ogre warhammer as a weapon. Gruz is using jagged-edged shield as a shield. Gruz has red eyes, dark skin, and no hair, and is single.

Athoro is a human and seems to be a bard. Athoro is wearing black-leather jerkin on his body, Symbol of Chekari on his left ear, black-leather pants on his legs, and nothing on his feet. Athoro is using pick axe as a weapon. Athoro is not using a shield. Athoro has blue eyes, light skin, and blonde hair, and is single.

Gruz bounds into the arena, stretching his warhammer over his head allowing his vertebrae to crack upon his spine, the muscles beginning to relax as his gaze falls upon the bard in front of him. A laugh choruses forth from the demeanor of the ogre warchieftain, in his home turf, the skulls of the goblins upon his neck shaking with each bellow as the hammer's head drops to the floor of the arena kicking up some loose particles, handle still tightly wound by the right handed digits. “Gruz beat human,” comes out of the laughter as he suddenly swings into action. The mighty weapon takes a high arc, spinning a rotation from front to back, the head striking the ground kicking up various pieces of debris and thrusting them towards the miniature opponent to this monstrosity of a beast, bounding onward. The distance between combatants is quickly relieved, the cruel arch of the fierce item of destruction now bearing down upon the skull of the bard, two hands now firmly affixed upon its wooden hilt to assure that the proper amount of strength is applied, to ensure total annihilation of Athoro as the feverish grunt exudes from the mouth of the mighty warchief.

Athoro starts to dance as the ogre charges, the bard's actions most awkward in the face of the oncoming opponent as his feet lightly sway back and forth. As Gruz bears down upon the fragile bard, the eyes of Athoro close, his voice opening as he starts to sing his sweet melody to accompany his dance, all the while listening to the approach of the giant ogre. With Gruz's last step the dance leaps to his right, dodging the frontal assault with grace and poise as the effect of his voice soon becomes known. Inside the head of Gruz a small voice can be heard, a calling most malicious as the voice attempts to eat at the brain of the brutal champion, corrupting him from the inside, attempting to steal at him. This song, was a song of self defeat, a song of self-mutilation as the enchanting voice of the bard cants into the head of the ogre, attempting to control his mind and force him into self-destruction. The bard continues to dance and sway as his song works on the ogre, slowly prancing away as he works his magic upon Gruz.

Gruz laughs as the thoughts of death and destruction feel his mind, the warhammer dropping its head to the ground, resting there it seems, as these illusions continue. He smiles, remembering all the bad things that he has done, then shakes his head abruptly remembering the bard. He turns, looking for him, finding the human now scampering away, prancing as if a fairy himself. Growling, as the distraction completely allowed for his prey to allude him, Gruz now lumbers towards the bard, storming after him with heavy footfalls that shake the nearby ground. The proud warrior was humiliated, and now the rage erupts upon the gruesome visage of the chief of this province. Narrowing in upon his prey, the malicious hammer swings into action, a firm last step given onto the ground as the other foot kicks into a round house, though only slightly off the ground. The true attack comes now in the barreling steel upon the wooden shaft, circumnavigating about the fierce warrior and squarely aimed at striking the left side of the bard, powerful enough to yearn to completely splay the diminutive figure in twine at the waist should it strike true.

Athoro underestimated the speed of the warrior, his body becoming bashed by the round house as he attempted to roll away, the kick however, pushing the bard far enough away that Gruz's secondary blow fails. Coughing, Athoro rises, a small spat of blood falling to the ground as the bard was not use to such hits. Once more his voice arises, singing more faintly now as his throat begins to ache with the dry dust of the arena. A small wind arises from the west, swirling the dust of the battleground as the bard's voice once more begins to lift. A fragile hand places itself upon his ribs as he continues to call forth, singing as a hoarse lark as he summons the pain, the song most vile, reserved by the bard for those who would truly which to kill him. If Gruz would fall prey to such music he could feel his throat start to swell and his insides start to melt as Athoro steps to his right, attempting to sing forcefully at the ogre, the song of pain meant to devour the insides of the warrior and make him lose all hope within the face of death. Pain and despair, that is what this melody sought to bring down upon Gruz as the bard slowly starts to back away, bracing his ribcage.

Gruz begins to hunch over, his chest throbbing from the violent inner workings of the bard's chorus. Rearing his head backwards, the ogre belts out a tone of his own, this of a roaring cry that fills the area with its horrendous tune. His gaze now bears down once more upon the bard, squarely focused upon the human and his song ushered from his mouth. Growling in a thunderously low tone, the ogre forgets the pain that grips his body as he marches on towards Athoro, each step slower than the previous, though still enough to carry him forward. At the last moment, he belts out a malicious roar, pausing for a moment to direct it towards the bard, his own song of pain now loosened into the arena as the mighty warhammer drives downwards, a graceful arc now propelling the thundering hammerhead into the floor with breakneck speed and fierce strength, the angle of the head precise. It plummets into the ground as the gemstones and debris fly in the direction towards Athoro, the carefully aimed strike sending out the particles to assail the human in a maelstrom of rock and stone as the ogre remains hunched over from the ongoing song.

Athoro covers his face with his arms, crossing into an x as the debris smacks against his body, the bard being thrown back against the wall, a loud, "Umph" being heard amidst the rubble as the bard once again stands, his chest heaving a small stream of blood begins to come from his mouth as he staggers upward, coughing once, blood bursting from his mouth as he opens, blood being coaxed from his mouth at the sign of opening. His voice blurs with the mixture of blood, his movements are off as he begins to dance, fiercely he tries to time his dance and sing, but to no avail, his attempted goal fails, the bard cannot summon the magic of music, he cannot focus in such a condition. Still he tries, Athoro canting his head, shifting his feet, provoking the music within as the arena starts to rumble slightly. The magic had been provoked, and though he could not focus it, the bard had created a small effect. Whirlwinds of sand descend from the sky, fierce winds ripping at the floor of the arena, as wild tornados sporadicly appear within Gamorg, none too big and none moving too far, however, the storm comes and the bard prays to the unknown that perhaps one will find its way onto the body of Gruz.

Gruz drops the hammer to his side, not needed against such a whipping wind as the item would be useless. He goes to cover his face with the armor he wears, the skulls upon his neck fiercely moving from side to side, the whirlwinds playing havoc with his body. Debris strikes him, various minor cuts and lashes appear upon any exposed skin. He stands there, stout like a warrior and like one of his kind, until the tornadic winds finally die out. He then drops his arms to his side, his body beaten and bleeding, but none the worse for wear as if after a major conflict such as this. He smirks, rivulets of blood racing down his face from various scars as he leans over to pick up his weapon, holding position to study his opponent further.

Back to the Imperial Tournament