Heroscapers - rym's BoAT Battle Royale Battle Report-part 3 now up

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rym's BoAT Battle Royale Battle Report-part 3 now up

Author’s note: I will refrain from actually revealing dice rolls and initiative as much as possible, weaving those things into the stories themselves. These accounts are battles my friends and I have played out to determine who the last remaining unit would be in a gigantic battle royale with all the units. Matchups were determined randomly. These will most likely be posted in groups of five or so, and hopefully daily, until the final winner is determined. Lastly, this was done for our entertainment, and that alone. Enjoy it as you will, because we certainly did as we played it out.

Intro:

Spoiler Alert!

Round One, Part Two:

Spoiler Alert!

The knight’s blond, flowing locks rustle in the wind. He hefts his sword and balances his shield on his other arm. He shouts a battle oath to the sky and beats his sword upon his shield, prepared to face the inevitable, and knowing that, for him, the only true glory lay in death – his or his opponent’s, it mattered not.

With a peculiar interest, he notes that the warrior across from him on the battlefield is plated in armor, cape flowing freely behind him, a stoic look upon his face and a steely glint in his eye.
Sir Denrick steps forward, smiling grimly, relishing the thought of combat with a worthy opponent. He proceeds to the nearest hill and awaits the juggernaut across from him.

He doesn’t wait long.

Swords ring upon one another and thrusts are parried as each warrior tries to gain an advantage over the other. Denrick feels his grip on the high ground is tenuous at best as the nicks and cuts are beginning to take their toll. With a swift thrust and maneuver, Denrick finally strikes true on the stoic warrior and feels a moment of satisfaction at seeing the other combatant begin to suffer. How long the battle raged on, neither one could say. Denrick would swing, the warrior would block. The warrior would swing, Denrick would block.

Finally, the warrior thrusts his sword deep into the ground, uttering words that sounded strangely like magic to the battered knight. An almost imperceptible wave of force began emanating from the warrior, and he began to attack anew. Denrick found the warrior’s defenses to be even tougher than before, and the battle slowly took its toll. With a final thrust through the abdomen from the warrior, Denrick falls.

“Well fought, sir. May Valhalla smile on you in the afterlife,” offers Denrick, as he collapses to his knees.

The stoic warrior simply turns and walks away.

Siege advances. Sir Denrick out.
……..

The stout dwarf stands resolute at the edge if the battlefield, surveying the landscape before him and sizing up the competition.

The elf lord stands tall and proud, haughty and arrogant with his oaken staff at his side. For centuries untold, his people had never gotten along with the dwarves, and he relished the thought of putting this little one into his place.

As the battle begins, the elf lord realizes he may’ve underestimated the dwarf across the battlefield from him. He is quick and manages to maneuver into place faster than the lithe elf.
Brow furrowed in concentration, the elf rains down fire attack after fire attack upon the dwarf, but never managing to do much, if any, damage. The dwarf closes quickly and swings his mighty hammer.

The blow is painless as Chardris falls to the ground dead.

Mogrimm Forgehammer advances. Chardris out.
……..

The black clad figures adjust their masks, pulling them up over their faces, hiding all traces of facial emotion from the proud half-elf standing across from them.

The battle starts and Brandis fires his bow as he scrambles for higher ground. One shot strikes true, but time and time again the remaining ninjas dodge each barrage of arrows. Even in close range, the ninjas prove to be too tough, too deadly. Brandis falls in a heap at their feet.

Only their eyes show, and those are expressionless.

Ninjas of the Northern Wind advance. Brandis Skyhunter out.
………

Thinking to avenge his fallen comrade-in-arms, Emirroon plans to strike fast. He moves across the field quickly, looking to gain higher ground on the four approaching warriors, their skeletal bodies moving surprising fast. He perches atop the hill and awaits.

The Marro fire from afar, but their weapons are weak, and Emirroon avoids any damage.
He decides to press the attack and decimates one of the warriors. Through his strategic planning, only two of the three remaining Marro are able to gain an attack. Again, Emirroon avoids being hit. Fueled by his thoughts of revenge, Emirroon takes out another of the Marro Warriors.

Changing tactics, the Marro split up and head toward ponds of water on either side of the battlefield, desperately hoping to breath renewed life into their thinning ranks. Perhaps it was the ferocious attack of the elf, or the overconfidence the four warriors had in the beginning when the numbers game favored them, maybe a tinge of uncertainty, but the Marros’ ability to bring back their fallen comrades fails.

The elf attacks again and a third Marro falls.

The remaining Marro contemplates his decision and decides to clone back his fallen comrade. Perhaps the nervousness got to him again. Who knows? The attempt was unsuccessful and the elf quickly covers the distance to the final Marro and dispatches him easily enough.

Emirroon advances. Marro Warriors out.

Round One, Part One:

Spoiler Alert!

The stoic fighter hefted his tomahawk, testing the weight, finding the right grip on the handle to hurl the weapon. His compatriots stood nearby, senses heightened, ready to spring.

Across the battlefield, the tall man adjusted his tie and repositioned his sunglasses, his features expressionless. He looked over at the other two agents, ready to begin.

Overhead a thunderclap roils, announcing the start of battle. The agents move quickly, guns drawn. The Indians move quickly as well. The agents fire first, and the Indian looks down at the blood spreading out from his chest, dead before he hits the ground. The second Indian evades the gunfire as his remaining partner slices through the shadows towards Agent Jones. Again the agents’ fire, but the Mohicans are crafty, and deftly evade the gunfire.

Both squads take a moment to regroup, knowing that whoever makes a move first could gain the upper hand. The agents are quicker and Smith takes down the second Mohican. The last Mohican gets next to Agent Jones, but adrenaline causes the attack to miss. Jones coolly places the muzzle of the gun next to the Mohicans head and fires.

As quickly as it started, it ends.

The agents adjust their glasses and smooth their jackets, just another day at the office.

Krav Maga Agents advance. Mohican River Tribe out.
…….

The skeletal-looking warriors take their places, plasma guns in hand.

Across from them, the Deathwalker runs through its internal machinations, quickly calculating what it needs to do to take out the three warriors before it.

The thunderclap signals and the Marro are off. They quickly spread out and head to the high ground. From the outer fringes of its range a Stinger fires, but the outer shell of the Deathwalker is too powerful for the small plasma gun to penetrate. The Deathwalker begins moving up to height, having calculated that it’s best chances for survival lie in having the high ground.

Slow as the Deathwalker is, the Marro are able to get a few more shots off. The Stingers decide to drain their energies to surge their attack, but it proves to no avail. The Deathwalker takes the single hill and lets loose a salvo. A Stinger falls.

The Deathwalker fires again after regrouping, and a second Stinger falls. The final Stinger decides to expend its remaining energies to make one final attack on the Deathwalker. The attack is feeble at best. Of course, the Stinger knows, as do all the warriors in attendance that one singly shot can oftentimes fail the gigantic robots. The Deathwalker defends, and all its calculations cannot block the hit.

It has fallen!

But wait. The Deathwalker’s programming registers the fact it is standing atop a hill and has a height advantage over the Stinger. The Deathwalker takes that into consideration and adjusts his defenses accordingly. Shot blocked! In return, the Deathwalker 9000 fires at the remaining Stinger with such force that the Stinger cannot possibly survive.

Deathwalker 9000 advances. Marro Stingers out.
…….

The Kyrie warrior looks about her, wondering what use her spear will be in this battle. She eyes the four armored Gruts across the battlefield and says a silent prayer to the Kyrie gods of war.

She flies out to the high ground, to await the tactics of the Gruts. The Gruts fan out, trying to make sure the Kyrie warrior has no chance to gain the upper hand on them. The Kyrie flies towards the furthest Grut, hoping to take him down with a high ground shot. The Grut blocks, and the Kyrie quickly sees her mistake. Within seconds, two of the Gruts have engaged her in battle, and she falls, unable to fly away, before the other two Gruts have even gotten to the battle.

Heavy Gruts advance. Saylind out.
…….

The agent removes her glasses and wonders at the randomness that has her fighting so soon after Agents Smith, Jones, and Ward. She eyes the Kyrie warrior across the field, wings glinting silver in the sunlight.

Raelin leaps into the air, flying toward the center of the battlefield, hoping to gain the high ground. The agent steps to her side, gaining a shot across the battlefield at the Kyrie almost immediately. She fires and Raelin easily defends. The agent fires again and the shot hits true.

Raelin realizes she must take the fight to the Agent or risk getting peppered from afar. Raelin lands in front of the agent and attacks, but the agent deftly blocks the attack. The agent runs away, gaining high ground on the Kyrie and hoping to inflict damage from height. One bullet grazes Raelin in the arm as a second bullet hits her in the thigh.

Raelin flies to high ground, needing to press that advantage, or surely all is lost. Raelin summons all her strength and attacks as strongly as she possibly can. The previously unwounded agent falls dead, such was the strength of Raelin’s attack.

Raelin (RotV) advances. Agent Skahen out.
……..

Agent Carr easily handles his sword, swinging the handle freely, preparing for the upcoming battle.

The ground beneath him rumbles.

Puzzled, but unalarmed, Carr looks up to see the giant making his way across the battlefield. Carr quickly unholsters his pistol and fires at the advancing giant, running towards him, sunlight glinting off the sword. The bullets pierce the giant, but he remains undeterred. Carr fires again, but misses.

Knowing that the giant is almost upon him, he drops his pistol and grips his sword. Feet planted firmly he prepares to defend – and then attack. The giant attacks, quicker and more ferociously than expected…

Agent Carr looks up at the sky, eyes fixing on the sun, as his blood life oozes away.

A grim smile crosses his face, and he nods towards the giant, a sign of respect towards a worthy opponent. “It’s a good day to die,” he says, as a last breath escapes his lips.

“Indeed,” replies Jotun gravely.

Jotun advances. Agent Carr out.
……..