Eagle Battlez [An RP Game]

[Baphởmet]

Dun dun duuuuun! It's time for Eagle Battlez! *cue all the rock'n'roll and eagle sounds*

Who will be top eagle? There's only one way to find out, Eagle Battlez, where eagles (or any two adversaries really) come together and punch, smack, bite, kick, stab, and claw each other until only one remains standing flying.

The Rules
1. Show up and announce you want to fight
2. Once the combatants have started, the GM (yours truly) will roll a d20. Anything over a 10 is a hit, anything under is a miss
3. You will begin with 4 health states, every time you are hit, you lose one
4. Last eagle (or other avian critter) standing is the winner
5. You win nothing but bragging rights

[Moriel]

Bombycilla was still appallingly drunk. He had flapped and flipped his intoxicated way through the air from the lonely mountain to wherever it is he was now, where he had heard somehow that there was going to be an avian battle royale. Did he care that it was supposed to be for eagles? No. Did he know it was supposed to be for eagles? Also probably no. The fermented-berry-sloshed waxwing plowed into the ground in a tangle of legs and feathers, having miscalculated his landing through his boozy haze, but immediately sprang to his feet again and flared his wings, his eyes rolling madly as he screamed to all and sundry,

"FIGHT MEEEEEE!!!!"

[Galadrihell]

Goose loves all sorts of mischief, fighting included. He is master of the underwingéd peck, of the sneaky neck coil, of the vicious wing flap. All this packaged in the most innocent, dumpling shaped body, perched upon waddling golden legs. And of course, his ultimate weapon, the fermented remains of whatever stolen goods or pond dregs he consumed most lately.

Can he take an Eagle? Oh, absolutely not. Certainly not by conventional goose means.

Can he take a drunken waxwing? Much more likely.

[Baphởmet]

The Old Crone

What was all the blasted noise!? She waddled out of her cave and screeched. There was a goose and waxwing on her lawn! The horror, the absolute horror! She scowled at them and fluttered down to them without a single hint of grace or dexterity. She was old dammit. Back in her day she was the most beautiful, graceful, sought after king vulture (well queen in her case) the world had ever seen. Now she was stuck dealing with drunken fools and hyperviolent psychopaths. She screeched again and ruffled her feathers. What were these two even doing here in the middle of nowhere? She was miles and miles away from… oh! Oh! Was that still going on? Fine. And apparently she had to officiate their little bout. She had better things to do, thank you! She screeched again and flipped them both the bird.

“Well, get on with it, go get yourselves killed for all I care!”