The steel mace hits the back of his calf, and he cries out in pain as he stumbles backward, wrenching the trident from your grip. The flange left a deep furrow in the back of his hamstrings, pulsing blood every time his muscles move
you swing it up, and then aim it as it comes crashing down onto Tacitus' head. He is more dexterous than you expect, and deflects the blow with his shield. The mace skids off with a screech, leaving a big dent on the upper part of the shield. You stumble, off balance for a moment
...wait, what? So...Tacitus takes a devastating and bloody wound to his leg, and that results in us losing grip on his weapon...not him?
...and then, with an injured leg pulsing blood...we hit him and he's able to block that downward attack without losing balance himself due to his injured leg...and we stumble and lose balance from hitting him?
Isith is a complete failure and he deserves to die.
((Wait, what?
Oh, I see what you mean. At that time, Isith was grabbing hold of the trident base with one hand, that's how WE lose the grip. And the impact with the shield wasn't direct, the mace slid off due to an angular surface.))
You look down at the pathetic hulk of a man below you. Your fingers tighten upon the cold steel of the mace, and you bring it above your head. The crowd is deadly silent for a moment, and the guards move even faster to try and get to the arena before the blow is delivered. The cold steel is brought crashing down upon your opponent's head, the skull splitting open like a sour melon. Brains get tossed among the closer in the crowd, and a huge cheer starts to erupt, the crowd satisfied with the first dirty kill of the day. You drop the mace, and walk off the ring, and are escorted rather roughly to a holding cell.
You probably stirred a hornet's nest there, but...
You were victorious.
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Perspective Change: Aquila
An hour or two later after your large, fat comrade finished his opponent, it comes time for your match. The brains have been swept clean, and fresh blood spilled in two different matches that came after. The crowd is waiting for more blood, and you can feel only happy to oblige.
You are led up to the ring by the guards to meet your own opponent. He holds
his buckler and
one throwing spear in his right hand, and
the other spear in his left. He has
light armor, whereas you have medium armor, and a more offensive load out compared to his, focused to
fighting at range. You have your steel Gladius, and the nasty scissor that is attached to your amputated arm.
What will be your tactic once the bell rings? Will you charge in for a quick,
aggressive blow? Or will you try to play
more defensively, picking your strikes?
Aquila: Healthy
Vitus: Healthy