Gladiator V - The Onset

[DrSpike]

Behave.

[Theben]

Hmmm... I probably shouldn't assist players, but I think I can direct them to info. That, and of course Bob's grim chances of victory have gotten even grimmer.

In response to PM:

All I'll say for now is that Gladiator is both a matter of crunching numbers and psychology. In effect, you have to know what to look for to be able to read your opponent. I would suggest you look back at Glad IV (you should've done that before, if you haven't) as there are some examples given on how to do so. They aren't spelled out in black and white, but they're there.

And:

Correct me if I'm wrong, but if you use 30 points for defence (armour value added) and the opponent musters together 31 points of attack (weapon value added), those points spent in defence are, well, useless?

Yes and no. It is true that those 30 points will have no effect on the damage results... BUT... you also know beforehand how much your opponent can do to you IF he should hit, and you can figure that into your calculations when determining how much damage you can take.

[Theben]

Gladiator Semis- Round 5

Bob rushes after the Doctor, wielding a broadsword in one hand and a gladius in the other. His attacks are unable to penetrate the Doc’s defenses, however.
Infuriated, he redoubles his efforts and presses home the attack once more. One swing comes close to taking off Doc’s head; alas, he dodged in the nick of time.
Bob paused in his assault to catch his breath. It was that moment the Doctor was waiting for. He leaped forward with this shield, raking the edge across Bob’s left side. Bob offered his buckler as defense, and it split neatly in two as his forearm was severed from the rest of him. A pool of blood formed as Bob collapsed on the ground. Theben stood at the edge of the balcony, waiting… when Bob slowly sat up and looked around, seemingly in a daze.

The crowd began a slow chant: “Doc… Doc… DOC… DOC…”

The Doctor took no damage and remains at 73. Bob lost 20 hit points and is now at 15.

Send in orders for Round 6.

[DrSpike]

Lucky again.

Btw (ok it's pretty moot for this match now) I would prefer if the GM didn't attempt to assist my opponents in future.

[Kassiopeia]

I thought the second was more like a rule clarification. I'm a hapless newbie after all.

The first part would have really been in order after the match, yes, so I'll try to ignore the advice as best as I can and try to learn from it after my apparently inevitable defeat in the semis.

Edit: Also, sent.

[DrSpike]

There always time to change tactics.

[Theben]

Lucky again.

Btw (ok it's pretty moot for this match now) I would prefer if the GM didn't attempt to assist my opponents in future.

Your opponents need all the help they can get.

Serously, I didn't say anything that hasn't been mentioned before, except the last part. I thought about it, and had he asked the same thing in the beginning I would've answered it the same. So I posted it for everyone to see. The fact he's fighting you right now is irrelevant. He's not getting any inside information, per se; it's just generic info that is helpful to anyone who plays.

[DrSpike]

Yeah, I just thought I'd nip it in the bud before you said something useful, like Doc's orders are:

100 100 100
100 100 100
100 100 100

which is why he often wins.

At least you didn't post the orders like last game.

[Theben]

SAy what? You didn't break into Spaced stash, didya?

Speaking of orders, how about sending some?

[DrSpike]

I'm on the case. If people like you didn't keep replying to my posts I'd have done it by now.

[Theben]

Ah, no problem.

/me puts DrSpike on ignore list

There. That should help me not post replies to you in a single thread, which is I'm sure the reason you're spamming up the whole OG.

[DrSpike]

Sent.

[Spaced Cowboy]

sent, but I'll wait for the Ram...I think he is out of town.

[Theben]

He should have one more day, I think. He said Tuesday, but whether he's available Tuesday or returns Tuesday I'm not sure.

[Theben]

Gladiator Semis- Round 6

Blood.
The sands of the battlefield were bathed in blood. Bob had been fighting his fears since the beginning of the match, but now it was too much for him to bear. He felt an inner struggle brewing: which course of action should he take? To give in to fear, to let it overwhelm him, and accept death? Or to harness it, mold to his needs, and use it as a weapon against his foe?

The Doctor approached his target slowly. The man on the ground in front of him looked to be too far gone; the dull, expressionless eyes showed that telltale sign he’d seen many times before- the eyes of a man who knows he is about to die. His own face carried a mask of disappointment. “Never give up, even when death is all but certain.” He sighed resignedly, and slowly lifted his shield for the coup-de-grace. The crowd, of course, noticed none of this, thinking the Doc’s slowness in delivering the killing blow was meant for the entertainment of the spectators. They continued in their clamors for more fighting, more blood, and more death.

Suddenly Bob threw his head back and started laughing. Those eyes, in which but a moment before looked ready to die, now held a fey expression in them. “I may die this day, dear Doctor,” exclaimed Bob, “but I’m taking you with me!” He grabbed the gladius and hurled it with incredible speed toward the Doctor, who recovered in just the nick of time to deflect the blow off his shield.

In an instant Bob tore off his sleeve, and with a hasty bind of his left arm, took off running. In fact his speed was so blinding the Doctor had trouble following his movements. The Doctor sped off running, in order to not present his foe with an opportune strike. He then circled back, the mask of disillusionment having vanished, with a fierce look of unbridled joy replacing it. The two warriors approached each other.

“Better!” the Doctor shouted, as they met in the center of the arena. Bob’s sword sang, while the Doctor’s shield slashed in a deadly arc: the two clashed amidst a shower of sparks, with both disengaging unhurt.
In an unprecedented move, the Doctor threw his shield at the still moving Bob, and it struck home. It imbedded itself in his side as it hurled him the remaining length of the field, shattering bone, spilling blood, and wrenching his innards as he impacted on the sands, and lay still. The Doctor sped over to his enemy and saw that, wounded as he was, he was not yet dead- a small spark of life held within him.

“Much better.”

The Doctor took no damage and remains at 73. Bob lost 13 hit points and has but 2 remaining.

Round 7 (final?) awaits!