RP:Niawtu Kidnapping 1

Background

This is a battle between the blacksmith, Ranok, and the orc, Grothus. This whole battle is what caused a chain of rps to rescue Niawtu.

This was when Nia was still new to the people of the lands... You could say it was the start of a long chain of Nia's being captured.

Ranok v Grothus: A Fight For Freedom

Stakes: Ranok wins: Niawtu is safe, and Ranok has the choice to kill Grothus :: Grothus wins: He steals Nia and gets an auto-hit on Ranok

Prelude to the Duel

Ranok was no teacher of language, or he'd probably have been teaching her words. But he did the 'talk to them as you did things', though, the best way to teach pets and infants words. The man digs out a suture kit, "Now. Hy'm gunna sev your leg back up, hokay? Hyu need to hef it klosed so it heals faster. Hy'd radder see hyu in a home but dis iz de best Hy kan do for now." As he talks he prepares the kit, "Dis von' hurt henny. Hy've got a luvly kreem here dat vill make everyddink nize und numb. Hy vouldn' suggest lickink it if Hy vere hyu, tough. Tastes nasty. Don' ask how Hy know. Heh." As he talks and presuming Niawtu hadn't pulled her leg away, he'd begin to rub the cream in question into and around the wound to numb it up, "After everyddink iz hall nize und numb Hy'll take out de treat und sev hyu back up. Nize und simple, no? Dey vill be a scar, but dat's de price to pay. Hy doubt hyu mind much. Makes for a goot schtory ven hyu tell dem." Ranok spots the fatigue in the child. He thinks on where he could put her where she'd be safe. He muses aloud, "Only places Hy kan tink uf are Ei's mansion...und she's not heppy vith me vun bit...or Brina's house. Heh...Hy tink hyu'd like it dere. She kooks hall sorts uf kakes und tinks like dat. Hyu'd be schpoiled in a veek."

Outside of Kelay Tavern

As the two walk towards Brina's house, Niawtu looks sleepily towards someone she noticed was following them. It is Grothus, the orc. He soon charges Niawtu, hoping to capture the young cub.

Grothus is large and muscular, but wears no armor, thus is surprisingly fleet of foot. As the feral child tries to escape, the orc is upon her within moments, the crude dagger in his hand lunged forth with terrifying power, the aim to gut the child and watch her scream as the life fades from her frail and injured body.

Niawtu just barely makes it to Ranok as he makes the attempt, hoping Ranok's size would be enough to scare him away. "Ra-nok!" she wimpers

Ranok was there instantly. A moving mass of armor, flesh, and momentum. He had been leading Niawtu to their destination, after all. His attention strayed for only a moment, but that was all it took. However, he makes up for lost time. No warnings are given, no shouts issued. He simply bodychecks Grothus. Ranok is a large human, standing at seven feet tall. He wore plate all over his body, and he carried a plentiful number of weapons on his body. Where he was tall of stature, he was thick of arm, as well. His trade of smithing gave him powerful limbs, in addition to his genetics. What it meant was that he was larger then practically any other human or biped that lacked blood of the more brutish species. While he lunges forward to basically try to full out tackle Grothus, his mailed fist curls to smash into the first tender spot on the brute that he could smash it into. While full out tackles are not the man's usual style, due to their open nature and the fact that they're easily noticed, the results of it couldn't be argued with. Very few would be able to receive such a thing without being knocked ass over kettle, and that was precisely what Ranok wanted.

Grothus indeed eyes the "massive" human with little regard, as natural instinct overrides pratical thinking. Orcs are massive, only ogres truly able to claim natural means of being a stronger race physically. And while the man in covered in platemail armor, Grothus has momentum -and- physics on his side. The size of Ranok will be played against him, as the human so foolishly thrusts his upper body forth so vigorously. The orc dives feet first into the dirt, allowing the man to fly about like the hero he wishes to portray. The dagger is sent forth with savage strength, though Grothus is far from simple minded. Orcs are bred to fight. And bred to win. Various scars litter his powerful frame, each muscle honed to martial perfection. While the orc slides across Kelay Way, with Ranok in mid flight, he digs his free hand into the dirt. If the dagger he lunged towards the exposed part of the males armor does not find its mark, the orc will be back upon his feet with surprising celerity, ready to continue this dance of death with the man who has thrown himself, quite literally, inbetween an orc and his meal.

Niawtu growls deeply at Grothus and says "Ranok, friend!" pulling herself up higher she makes to try and help Ranok in the fight, which she feels is her fault, despite her ankle injury she still heads forward.

Grothus lets out a vicious and threatening growl in responce to the child's outburst.

Niawtu flinches but then growls back to him with great feral force not letting him scare her. Whether Ranok approved or not she didn't want to be cowering in the distance while her only friend fought.

Ranok isn't quite covered in the typical fare of plate mail. The armor was modified, the joints on it having been open and changed. In exchange for lesser protection on them, he receives greater mobility. The weight of the armor is negligible, his size and strength mitigating both. However, his weight was great and the emergency tackle in order to break up the focus Grothus had on Niawtu in as fast as method as possible with the surest results, he can't simply stop on a dime. The dagger would leave a scour across the armor. This wasn't simple steel, and any armor worth its salt wouldn't fall to a slash, unless served by a giant or the likes of. One step, two steps, and on the third, Ranok pivots himself to throw off his excess momentum as he turns. In the same smooth motion, his long sword is drawn. But one of the weapons on his body, it was the quickest on the draw. Sliding a few inches, he would come to a stop, facing Grothus and holding the weapon in a guard position. The sword was fitted to him, as well. And why would it not? Ranok was obviously a competent fighter, and a smith to boot. Metal and weapons were his trade, and the sword was balanced and fit to him. Against a dagger, and being as tall as he was, Ranok was likely holding the advantage in reach. And if not, there was always the stave that stuck to his back like it was magical. And it probably was.

Niawtu looks at Grothus and senses something different about this orc, perhaps that he wasn't merely wanting to kill her. Whence realization hits her the child calls to Ranok, "Ra-nok! Hun-ter!" a word that the child knew, but scarcly used.

The Duel Begins

Grothus stands defiantly before the human known as Ranok, the swordsmen's name having been repeated over and over by the child the orc was here to collect. From the brief exchange moments ago, Grothus could tell this man was a seasoned fighter, but to his dismay this day, so was Grothus. Jagged tusks protrude from the green-skin's oversized maw, as a bestial roar is ushered forth as a war cry. The human's challenge has been answered. The crude dagger is discarded, as the orc reaches to the blades that rest upon his hip by means of a loose steel chain. Without warning the orc, clad in naught by a thin cloth of sheep's skin, charges forth with surprising celerity towards his opponent. Within the same moment as the orc's first foot moves forward, the massive savage draws the bearded axe and cleaver from his hips. These cruel blades are of sinister design, which becomes evident the moment the orc utters a few verses from his native tongue, the shamanistic magic that lays within flaring to life. A green-tined flame erupts upon the axe, while powerful electrical currents sheathe the cleaver. Within the time it takes to blink one's eye, Grothus is upon Ranok, unleashing a powerful barrage of calculated and savage blows upon the heavily armored man. The size of the human is great, but years of fighting for one's life among the outcast race that is the orcs has bred into Grothus a fearlessness that would put even the most confident warrior on edge. The orc appears to lose himself to a tribal rage, every muscle in the green skin's muscular body working at maximum capacity to deliver blow after blow upon the human, but if one believes this they are indeed foolish. Each blow is aimed to render flesh from bone, though the main target here is the joints. The orc's savagery seems to mask his devious attempts to quite literally cut the man's legs from underneath him. If Ranok is not quick to mount an impressive defense, he will find himself torn asunder by Grothus' primal beastiality and savage strength. The flames upon the axe, and the electrical current upon the cleaver, add dangerous elements to an already deadly assault.

Ranok had the slight luxury of defense here, and he utilizes it to its fullest extent. As Grothus charges, he measures where the first blows would land and adjusts accordingly. He uses no shield, and has only one weapon, but his sleeve carries much heavier plate then the sword carrying one. Wrist locks into place, and it becomes what amounts to metal that can be moved. His left hand, which holds the sword, flicks the blade in its grasp along to dart in and make a slap at Grothus's wrist. The ultimate objective is to disarm that hand. The orc's grip would be powerful, so instead, Ranok aims to numb the wrist that carries it with cuts and blows. However, he would have time to only attack once before the blade becomes occupied. His heavily armored forearm meets the bearded axe at an angle rather than face on to reduce the impact of the blow. The longsword would block the cleaver, as well, low to the pommel to prevent the sword from being wrenched from Ranok's grasp. The chaotically infused metal of his armor would serve to reduce the flames of the axe's effect, but glowing lines are being left on the metal. The holy avenger, as well, uses its own magicks to protect Ranok's grip from the electrical effects of the cleaver. As Gorthus swings in a barbaric rage, Ranok gives up ground. A normally dangerous proposition, but Ranok knew the area intimately. He knew where every stone was on the road that jutted out, and where he would run into something. So, he was safe from tripping on something he didn't know was present. For the first minute of battle, Ranok would defend as he got his bearings. Then, to Ranok, a stroke of luck. His knees were protected better then his shoulders were, despite the modified joints, due to the fact that they swung but one way. As Grothus leans in to hack at his lower limbs, Ranok would go on the offensive to utilize his longsword's greater reach, assuming that the weapons the orc carried weren't modified to be longer. As such, Grothus would have to either take a nasty blow to the unarmored wrist that carried the cleaver and hopefully force him to drop the weapon, or avoid/parry the blow. Either way, success or failure, Ranok would take a large step backwards and use his larger reach to fend off Grothus. As the orc was of average size, Ranok had height and a longer weapon, and those he intended to milk all they were worth. To boot, the armored right arm, opposite the sword, would reach into Ranok's coin purse and grab the change there, ripping it open. Coins would spill everywhere, and a few into the man's hand some would go, the end result of which remains to be seen. The coins were clutched tightly in his fist for the time being.

Grothus is cold and calculating in assault upon the armored man, each blow meant to test this obviously skilled warrior's defenses. The eyes of the orc are sunken deep within its skull, but they manage to watch every move Ranok makes with care. The way he lashes out with with the sword, which has betrayed its enchantments when it defeated the cleaver, is noted. The extra defenses of his armor are as well, as each blow is defeated with such ease. This only heightens the orc's unrelenting rage, which fuels his actions and gives strength to his powerful frame. While Ranok may be armored from head to toe, and carrying a multitude of weapons and creations, Grothus is a savage warrior. He wears naught but a lion cloth that scarcely covers certain unmentionables. The bleached skulls of victims hang from his waist proudly, ornaments of a true warrior. And so, when Ranok tries to wear down the thick skin, heavy boned orc, he will be surprised to see it has little effect. In fact, the orc does indeed take a considerable blow from the man's sword; the blade cutting deep into the green skin's left shoulder, that which carries the flaming axe. But all this is nothing more than a means to an end. The thick, putrid stench of orc blood can be smelt from a good distance, and the deep bite causes yet another bestial roar to erupt from the savage Gualon native, murder apparent within his beady eyes. But, by taking the blow to his arm, Grothus has closed the distance Ranok tried so hard to gain, and while a taller man with a longer weapon does indeed has the advantage at a range, a smaller warrior with close-ranged weapons is king. Ranok once again finds himself under a vicious assault, this time the orc leads with his wounded arm, the flaming axe sent out to open up the human's defenses, or if luck should have it, land a vicious blow upon his foe's sword arm and thus causes tremendous harm to the blacksmith's offensive capabilities. The real threat though, comes from Grothu's main handed weapon. The cleaver. While primarily a slashing weapon, the serrated edge of the one sided blade is sent forth is a powerful thrust right past Ranok's left cheek. With his defenses hopefully open, the human will have little time to counter what happens next. The orc pulls back upon the blade, using the serrated edge of the vile weapon as more of a saw in this instance, in an attempt to tear open the flesh that is exposed in -any- armor, where the neck is. Should the blade even touch flesh, the powerful electrical currents bestowed upon it by the shaman's of his tribe long ago will be unleashed, sending powerful surges of raw electricity to ravage Ranok's nervous system and thus cause great harm to his reflexes and coordination.

Ranok is not dismayed to see that his gambit failed. At least, outwardly. He had drawn first blood, and any warrior would be pleased with that. However, it seems to have done little but anger the orc. Where the orc is fury and motion, Ranok is calculating and methodical. He didn't have unlimited stamina of the orc, or the furious strength, but he had reach, adaptability, and his own cause. Niawtu was to be protected. The heat of the axe did little to bother the man. What did escape through the chaotic negation was felt. However, Ranok was a blacksmith. Fire was his business. Beating metal hot enough to sear flesh to bone with his own arm was what he did. Flames didn't bother him. The true danger was indeed the cleaver, and thusly, that was why Ranok sought to remove it from the fight. He could only count on the two fold protection to stop the electrifying effects of the weapon, those being the blade that parried and the armor on the hand that held it. If one blow did not do the trick, then perhaps another. Instead of parrying the cleaver's blade, he did the same as Grothus. A calculated blow to be taken. The cleaver sails past his cheek and he steps into the blow. His longsword would move in to sink into flesh. As he was taller, Grothus would have to thrust out with the cleaver in order to reach the man's cheek, which meant that the arm holding the weapon was thrust out. The sword comes up and into the armpit in an attempt to both disable the arm for good and seek some vitals with a piercing attack. As Grothus pulls back the cleaver it would sink into Ranok's collarbone, laying flesh to the bone. A wound that wasn't among the highly fatal. However, the electric would take it's toll. The arm that held the longsword would twitch and spasm. The grip on the sword would be weakened enormously, enough to be knocked free if the thrust had failed. His opposite arm sails around, releasing its payload. A handful of coins, directly to Grothus' face. A harmless blow to any orc. However, Grothus had been operating on instinct for nearly the whole fight. What more to cause an instinctive reaction then something metal, shiny, and flying directly at your face? It was a distraction, and should it succeed, the hand that held the coins would grab the wrist of the hand that held the axe and wrench with the strength he could muster. His left arm was more or less useless, but his legs and right arm weren't, and the man was attempting to control the means that Grothus had to use at his advantage. Feet are planted, the man's greater weight pushing, and hand twisting, he had hope that it would at least grant a reprieve from the onslaught. However, Ranok makes sure to keep his head away from Grothus'. A headbutt from the thick skulled orc would be devastating. This meant that a slight bit of force wasn't brought to bear, due to leverage, but perhaps what was being used would be enough.

Grothus is lost within the lust of the pain he causes Ranok the moment the serrated blade sinks into his flesh, the orc reveling in the agony the electrical currents commit while surging through the would be champion. And while the attempt to distract the savage is creative, the barbaric warrior is determined and focused. While the golden coins scatter about, the gualon native yanks the embedded blade down with him in a dual attempt to severe even more flesh from Ranok's body, and to dodge the oncoming, and anticipated counter attack. Since his birth Grothus has fought, and through the twenty-seven years of his life he has done little else. And so, the blunt side of the flaming axe is brought forth to defend and parry the calculated blow of the swordsman. The power in which Ranok's sword connects manages to dislodge the axe, but frees up the warrior's hand to grasp the leather-bound hilt of his cleaver to allow for a powerful swing of the vile weapon towards the rear leg of the human. With his balance thrown off by the damage done to his arm by the electrical currents just moments before, Grothus is attempting to take the massive man to the ground. The powerful swing of the cleaver is followed up by the orc attempting to slam his right shoulder, which is massive and broad, against the man's opposite knee. Thus, if Ranok does not act quick, he will either take a devastating blow to one leg, and face the threat of losing the use of another limb, or face the brunt savage force of the orc wear down upon him. The metallic armor the human wears will not act against him, as his mobility will indeed suffer, and while it may lessen the blow of the shoulder check, it will do little to stop the kinetic energy being unleashed. The momentum, the size and the raw power of the orc are key here. Should the cleaver meet the chaotic metal that protects Ranok, the clashing of elemental and chaotic magic will cause enough damage alone, while the threat there still lies with the serrated blade finding flesh, and rending it from bone. Should this clever fighter choose option two, which rushes upon him in the same motion, the blacksmith's knee may buckle beneath the weight of a full grown two hundred and ninety pound orc slamming against it with ferocious power. And, should the man attempt to leap, the impressive armor he wears will surely act against such, and thus leave the man in an unfavorable position that Grothus can exploit afterwards. Either way, the warrior now faces three potentially dangerous options. His right leg, his left leg, or going to the ground with the orc, where his height and weapons are useless…

Ranok doesn't jump, but sidesteps, an option more viable then absorbing a blow. He steps so that the shoulder of the orc who tries to bodycheck him hits his leg, the opposite number, which holds the cleaver, the more dangerous and less palatable. Either way, he goes to ground, but it wasn't in a heap with the orc on top. It was a more collapsing motion, his leg taken out but the other one remaining, so instead of tumbling, he sank to a knee. The force of the charge would spin him around slightly, so that he faced the same way as the orc did in terms of orientation. This would mean that he couldn't leap on his opponent's back to take advantage of the half faceplant that would have resulted, as Ranok chose to take the momentum rather then the weapon. His left arm was still useless, the nerves frayed. The sword was knocked a foot or so away, which meant it might have been on the moon for how useful it was at the moment. To prevent his torso from slamming into the ground after his legs, his right arm goes out to slam upon the ground, saving himself a faceplant as well. His left is aching, but his body was sending out adrenaline to respond to the wound, dulling the pain. He was down, in more then one way, but not out. Previous moments would be burnt getting orientation and lifting his torso into an advantageous position. This would mean that Grothus had time to begin getting up as well. Quick as he can, Ranok's right hand draws the knife that sits always on his belt, a weapon that was much better then any sword in such close quarters. It could not parry a cleaver or an axe, but both weapons needed to be swung, and hopefully the close nature of the fight would prove to stop both. Ranok was born with a knife in his hand, and knew how to use one. While not as nimble as a thief, and even less so on the ground, he nevertheless flicks the blade in his hand, spending another half a second orienting it. A few more go towards getting a knee under him, and then he leaps in as best he can, to thrust the knife forward into the first vital area he could reach: the heart through the collarbone of his opponent. The knife was a useful thing, the blade sized long enough to serve in any number of tasks, not just stabbing and slashing an opponent. Hopefully, it would go in deep enough to nick an artery or vein, or failing that, go in at all. Whether Grothus had enough time to reorient himself from the bodycheck and avoid the stab remains to be seen. It was down to the most dirty fight of all, wrestling, something that Ranok didn't have the advantage in with all the armor he wore and down an arm as he was.

Results :: Grothus wins

The Stakes... Are Steaks!?

Grothus is starting to feel the effects of the loss of blood, and the draining of his rage subsiding, but has enough stamina left to get to his feet faster than his human counterpart. The dagger, an impressive weapon in the eyes of the orc, is slapped to the side by the cleaver as the savage lunges upon the downed blacksmith with the last bit of vicious fury he can muster. The orc stabs the cleaver into the earth beside his foe, and grabs the man's skull in his oversized hands and yanks him forward as he slams his own thick skull right into the center of Ranok's face. The man's nose is crushed under such a blow, then another crucial clash of the two fighter's skulls, and Ranok's face swells up. Again and again Grothus bashes Ranok's face in with unrelenting vigor. Ranok's body goes limp moments after the third blow, the incredible force of such savagery causes the man to go unconsiess within moments. Only after a final blow for good measure, does the orc let loose his grip, only to pull forth the dagger that lies within its sheath upon his ankle. The barbaric warrior, as is the way of his people, take the semi-dull blade and runs it across the man's face. Scarring him from the top right of his skull, all the way across his face to the opposite side of the bottom of his lip. Due to the vicious bashing just moments prior to the ritualistic scarring that is being performed, Ranok's swollen face bleeds profusely. Now done with the man, he tosses his limp and now bleeding body to the dirt, his eyes falling upon the child known as Niawtu. Within moments the orc is upon her, his injured arm now carrying the dagger, still stained with Ranok's blood, at the ready, while he takes hold of the terrorfied child with his stronger hand, raising her off her feet and saying in rough common. "A meal hard earned, is a meal deeply enjoyed." And with that, the orc tosses the child, screaming and fighting, over his shoulder as he heads back to his tribe, dinner in hand…

Niawtu yips loudly and growling tries to bite into the orc, his tough skin holding its own against the child's fangs. "Ranok!" the child shouts to her comrade as she is carried away by the orc, whose size is massive against such a small child. As she's taken away, she hears her slave chain fall off of her scrawny neck and clash against the hard ground.

Ranok is tough, but being beaten around by an orc is something no one was really built to take. He would lie limply on the ground for a time. Eventually, he would stir. Agony, all around his face. His collarbone is bleeding, too. Weakened, it took him awhile to get his arm under him. His right arm folds under him and he simply sits like that for a while, blood slowly dripping off his face. Strangely, it doesn't drip nearly as much as it ought to. They were impressive wounds, and he would carry the scar of the mark across his face to his death, no doubt. However, what drove him was a dull fury. He didn't care about the wounds, the pain. He cared that Niawtu was taken. He was defied, and Ranok was not a man defied. Not if he had any say in the matter. This time his argument was refuted, but the next, perhaps not. With agonizing slowness, he raises his body up, getting a knee under him. Inwardly he was taking stock. Fingers? Check. All teeth? Little loose, but he'd had worse. Check. Toes? Check. His left arm was much recovered, though it was painful to move at any speed but slow. He'd have to get that tended to. Was there time? Probably not. Another minute or two is spent as he sits there, leaning on his knee. Just getting his strength back. And his wits, which were a little rattled. His mind churns turgidly. Blood. He was staring at it. Was it his? He didn't know. But...there was more. Blood splatters. Moving. A chain. Her chain that she wore around her neck Hope. He could get her back. He was surprised this time. On the defense. He resolved to not let it happen again. He forces his left hand to reach out, grasp the metal. Slowly, ever so slowly, he wraps it around his wrist. A memento, but not for long, he hoped. He stands finally, wavering slightly, but not for long. And then he sets forth. Not tracking the blood, no. He couldn't do that himself. But he knew who could. And just where to find her.