Welcome, to the Arena! (D4 - MA)(Expecting)

[Cyprian Kircheis]

He backs away a little despite himself. "I've..." He feels a tinge sheepish. "I'm flattered miss Illi..." He stops, looks at the floor. "Oh dear, I feel like I've led you on." He actually panics a little. "You see I'm not, I'm not available at this time. Oh if I was..." He smirked, "But I do appreciate it. For now I have someone who is looking after me."

He gives a genuine warm smile.

[Illiam'iira]

"But I do appreciate it. For now I have someone who is looking after me."

She blinks, and then starts to laugh. Big and unrestrained laughter. "No, dear, I'm not -- I don't say any of this because I have some sort of romantic interest in you!" Illi covers her mouth as she giggles. "I just want you to be okay. I don't know what your life's been like, up unto this point, but I can imagine you've had to rely on mostly yourself. So I wanted to tell you, it's okay to rely on other people."

"It's, uhm --" She looks up at him again. "Has no one ever told you that? Who wasn't, uh, trying to bed you?"

[Cyprian Kircheis]

“Well… no.” He shrugged. “And relying on others is just not how I’ve ever wanted to live.” The idea was as foreign a concept as he’s ever known. “I’ve had friends and party members over the years. Lived with a cult of people who umm…” He laughed. “Anyways, no… even when I was studying to be a bard I was under no one’s aegis.”

He shook his head.

“Well I appreciate the sentiment at the very least. Now about that transformation…” He grinned. “… that’s a moon goddess right?”

[Illiam'iira]

“Well I appreciate the sentiment at the very least. Now about that transformation…” He grinned. “… that’s a moon goddess right?”

There's a bit of worry in her eyes as she listens. "That's not what I ..." Blink. "What?"

Takes her a second but Illi soon slaps her palm on her forehead to hide it, blushing. "Hey! Don't change the subject!"

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Oh come on!" He grinned, "I've seen a statue that looked just like that ohhh, so delightful form you adopted! You know you want to-"

"Grey Prince!" He heard someone say. "You're up!"

"Oh! Lovely!" He grinned mischievously at Illi, "I suppose that's my cue. Talk afterwards?"

[Illiam'iira]

She makes an unhappy grumbling sound but nods. "Good luck," Illi smacks him on the back on his way out.

Bardic inspiration, baby!

[Cyprian Kircheis]

(Mood)

Cyprian's moniker is called and he is pure charisma as he walks to the center of the arena. He lets his cloak drop while spreading his arms so that all could see and thusly appraise him. The blood crazed masses cheer, no doubt eager to see him fall. Off comes his hat with a flourish! Then, his opponent, Arava Wystongjiir's name is called. The home field crowd let's forth a roar as the dragonborn warrioress steps out in her enchanting raiment.

"My, my!" Cyprian grins mischievously, "The light off your scales is like-"

"Enough talk..." She growls in common. And the fight begins!

The beautiful dragonborn maid charges forward with the intention of putting him on his back. But Cyprian is light as a feather as he executes a masterful pirouette simultaneously drawing his blade with a slash. To his horror the blade finds no purchase against the lizard woman's raiment. She counterattacks and nearly has him but his armor too deflects the blade.

The crowd roars at the exciting start of the match! The two circle each other appraisingly, and Cyprian begins looking like he's having fun!



Suddenly, someone in the crowd throws a dagger that Cyprian spots and casually avoids. "Please! This isn't a bar brawl, be a good little peanut gallery!"

Then, perhaps out of astonishment or hatred, his opponent lets down her guard. That's when Cyprian makes his move! The attack is furious, powerful, but again her raiment holds up. This time she counterattacks deftly and finds purchase. First blood is hers!

Cyprian falls back as the enchanting warrioress follows up his failings with a furious combination of strikes. Deftly he weaves and sidesteps each mighty blow, then on the spin his blade tastes her scales at last!

This enraged the dragonborn lady who chased the prancing bard with all her might. Coming closer, and closer, and closer...

"Combatants HOLD! This contest is concluded!" The crowd erupts in applause. A most excellent showing of martial grace.

The judges determined that Cyprian was indeed the winner of the challenge, but the loser of the match. He withdraws to the pits slightly downcast.

______________________

Round 1
Initial Attack: Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 1 | DC17": 1d20+13 19
Counterattack: Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 1 | AC18": 1d20+8 17
Opponent's Attack of opportunity: Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 1 | AC17": 1d20+5 16

Round 2
Evade the surprise attack! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 2 | DC14": 1d20+6 25

Round 3
An opening appears! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 3 (with Inspiration!) | DC18": 1d20+7+1d8 19
Now for the attack! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 3 (with Inspiration!) | AC18": 1d20+8+1d8 14
Opponent's Counterattack! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 3 | AC17": 1d20+5 19 <.< Go F*** Yourself Orokos! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 3" | Rolling Damage: 2d8+4 12

Round 4
A flurry of blows! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 4" | DC16: 1d20+13 21
Counterattack! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 4 (with Inspiration!) | AC18": 1d20+8+1d8 19 *AGGRESSIVE FIST PUMP!!* Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 4" | Roll Damage: 1d8+4+2 11

Found 5

Grueling back and forth! Welcome, to the Arena! "Round 5 | DC20": 1d20+6 15

Failed check means no chance to counterattack. Combat over.

[Illiam'iira]

Illi has to climb up on top a barrel to watch the match. She does lean in a bit when he takes off the hat -- he looks a bit more handsome without it, she thinks -- but otherwise spends her time cheering, hoping he makes his way through it! When the match is called, her shoulders sag a bit... aww.

Illiam'iira is still clapping for Cyprian when he returns, and asks softly, "Would you like some healing?" From where she's standing on the barrel.

...she looks a little afraid to hop down on her own.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Yes please." He says a little crestfallen. Seeing her shaky stance on the barrel he picks her up like a princess before letting her down again. "We were evenly matched it seems. Had I full use of my magic I might have tipped the scales a bit more." Another sigh, "Or maybe the bellicose gods felt fit to humble me."

[Illiam'iira]

"Or maybe the bellicose gods felt fit to humble me."

There's a little squeak when she's picked up, but Illi doesn't complain! Stupid heights. Stupid short legs. "Aww, you should be happy it's not a real fight. Means you're not in any real danger!" While she's still in Cyprian's arms she pulls down his head to plant a tiny kiss on his forehead.

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - Cure Wounds lvl 2: 2d8+4 6

...it's not enough juice, and she grumbles. One more time. Illi gently bonks her forehead against Cyprian's (little weirdo) and that does it; it also gets some giggles!

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - Cure Wounds lvl 1: 1d8+4 9

"You did look very dashing, if it matters any," She pats his shoulder right before he's set down. "Want a drink? On me?" Illi's still learning the man -- how to comfort him when he's down. Hopefully they won't call her name for awhile yet.