An arena battle.

  • (I guess anyone can challenge  me here, please tell if I'm doing something wrong, and I can correct it :))

    Dust whistled over the large, flat arena. Blacktooth, a menacing orange fox, stood silently, shouldering his large, double bladed battle axe. His long, sharp, black fang hung out of his mouth like a piece of polished jet. That tooth had killed many beasts, and he wouldn't stop it from killing even more.

  • OOC: I have a few suggestions to make Blacktooth. For one you should make your starting post be longer. Most are 10 to 20 sentences or so. And when your saying something thats not part of your story you say OOC: (out of character) and then when you resume your story you put BIC: (Back in character). But other than that your doing great! Oh yeah one more thing. maybe a few less comas. I noticed you don't need as many as you have. Just try reading it with the comas and see if it sounds right. Have fun! 🙂

  • OOC: Thanks for the advice! (Now that I think about it, I used way too many commas! I'll try not to do that anymore…)

  • OOC: No problem 🙂 glad to help. If you need anything else I can help you

  • OOC- Ooh this looks like fun! Welcome to RL Blacktooth! You can call me CQ. Just one suggestion. When you are introducing your beginning post, it is a good idea to leave an opening for another member, for instance, "Blacktooth stared his opponent down, with a look that could curdle milk." Ok, maybe not that, but hopefully you get the idea. By the way, I like your writing style. Keep it up! 😉

    IC- Brint flapped once more to slow himself, then cascaded into the sand, digging his talons deep. The kite had clad himself in light leather armor but remained weaponless except for his razor sharp talons and this viscous beak. It made no difference though. Either way, he was a dangerous predator.
      Amidst the swirling dust clouds, his intelligent eyes quickly caught this opponent, a large black fox with snag tooth and a wicked looking battle ax. A smile escaped the large bird as he anticipated the fast approaching duel. This would be fun….. ((That goes for both of us))

  • Rorgus strolled out onto the arena. He watched the two beasts as they were going to fight. He drew his twin blades and prepared to duel. He started walking out towards the two beasts already there. He didn't particularly want to fight the kite but he could deal with the fox. He would fight the kite if he had to but there was another opportunity so hi picked the fox. He arrived out in the middle of the arena and said.
    " Who wants to fight me? I'll take on one or both o' ye' so take your choice."  He took a fighting stance readying himself for a fight.

  • OOC:Blacktooth himself is orange, his tooth is black.

    He stared at the otter and the kite. He knew this would be a tough battle, and he would emerge bloody and dirty. But he(Having a little too much self-esteem and pride) knew he would emerge victorious. In a swift move, he lunged at the otter with his large axe.

  • Danker quietly strolls onto the field.He views the otter and fox fighting,then he spots the kite.He points and yells"You!I shall fight you!"He then pulls out his iron ball and rope and begins swinging it around.

  • Muramin al-Wyuli had always found an innate beauty in the cut and thrust of bladed battle.  As was the rest of life, battle was dance where superior skill and balance would easily win the day.  This day was meant to be hers, and she knew it full well.  The trick, the wildcat knew, was determining which foes would tire themselves out early and which ones would need to beaten while she was still fresh.  'Know thyne enemy,' as the old adage went…

    Breathing deeply, the morning sun glinting off the pair of curved shamshirs in her paws, Muramin assumed a rudimentary defensive stance.  She would allow others to open themselves up to assault first, then make the decisive cuts to their strings of life.  That it was a grand melee did not phase her; the distractions and opportunities would be many-fold for all parties.  This was best evidenced by some unknown rat who, in thinking the wildcat was preoccupied with something, decided to lunge at her.  Stepping aside easily, two cuts passed through the air: one removing the rat's offending dagger-filled paw, two silencing his cry of pain permanently.

    This battle had just begun.

  • The weasel Tristin St. Caens inhaled deeply before discarding his aromatic cigar and extinguishing it with a careful footpaw.  He polished his eyeglass on his linen blouse and eyed askance the carcass of the rat who apparently had been too short on brains and rather longer on stupidity.  His gaze travelled from the rat to the wildcat, and it was with approval that he personally rated her technique.  However, as everyone else seemed to be rather deep in personal disagreements, he knew with regret that it was she he was going to have to meet in combat.

    He gave her a friendly wink, and, sliding his cross hilt rapier from its scabbard, kissed the hilt and crossed himself.  With a little well balanced shuffle of the toes he prepared to meet the wildcat in combat.  He wondered carelessly whether he would be able to stop at his favorite public house for a pint of bitter that evening, or whether he would be the latest dining establishment for the insects which even now raced crazily on their unknown errands, with no idea or interest in the events of the world.

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