((Thanks for the bump! Saves me the trouble of having to look for the game :p))
He agreed to yield. Request a ruling from the judges for a victory on technicality.tilt quarterstaff toward foe. Try not to die and explode, which might damage the battle grounds.
"I request a ruling from the judges! He agreed to yield but he lied!" Your pleas go unanswered by the AI, but the crowd instead laughs and jeers.
You tilt your quarterstaff towards the enemy. He snorts and leers. "I said," he says, as he cracks his knuckles, "yielding is for the weak."
He charges at you, his shaggy arms hulking and his fur swaying. His Physical is 5.
You wait until he gets closer and raise your staff. Your Physical is 2.
Physical: Shaggy (6!) vs. *five-Delta (2)= Shaggy wins! ((Today is not your day, Ozarck...))
He yanks your staff away and tackles you to the ground. You crash to the floor with a thud as he looms over you, teeth slavering. "Yield. Prove to me that Shaggy is stronger! YIELD!"
I'll take the whip.
Check my credit count, then go shopping for some armour.
You take the whip as your prize. As you take it into your hand, it coils up your arm and the handle slides into your palm. It feels cold and dead in your hand and looks like a metallic spine. Meanwhile you check your credits. You have none, as most of the crowd placed their bets on the alien. However, the human soldiers from earlier come to meet you.
"Some fine work there, boy. The corps could do with some men like you, strong men. We need you to represent us, the Terran Army, in the Arena. Wear our colors, show them alien scum which race is dominant. You could make some good money with us. Do it for your people, soldier."
The sergeant hands you a stack of credits, about 30, and leaves with his squad. He turns and says, "Meet us in the training hall tomorrow if you're interested." You waste no time heading to the now closing market to buy some armor. You find a well-maintained shop with some reasonably priced goods. They're pretty good quality too. You see some scale-armor, perfect for deflecting blows and a bullet-proof vest for shrugging off bullets and lasers. Both come with headgear and gauntlets. They are both worth around 25 credits.
Buy the knife from the alien. "Yes, yes. This will do, I say casually, "say... what was your name again?"
Spend the rest of the day in my room, bonding evilly (and non-exhaustively) with my new killing tool.
"Yes, yes. This will do," you say casually. You ask him for his name.
The alien laughs. "I need no name, and you need not know it." He takes your credits and gives you your dagger. "Take it and go. You will not see me again." The alien winks at you.
You take it to your quarters and admire its craftsmanship. Bleeder. A fitting name for a blade. You feel its edge lightly, yet still it cuts you and draws blood. A very fitting name.
Author
Topic: Galactic Champions [6/6] (Read 5924 times)