A brief break was called then to tidy up the arena and give players a chance to rest.Unnecessary, as it was a video game, but the realism was the draw and not everybody had a fancy rig that meant they didn't need to take snack or bathroom breaks.
After being stuck in the game for so long, seeing the real world again was going to be jarring, to say the least.Every now and then, for the barest moments, Lancelot forgot they were in a game at all.
He went to the waiting room, where Scrob was already skulking."I'm going to kick your ass, pose."Lancelot ignored him."Too good to talk to me?"
Taking down his sweaty, messy hair, Lancelot gave it a crude combing with his fingers and then bound it up in a knot at the base of his neck, where it would be out of his way and also not interfere with his helmet.
"Seriously, loser?The silent treatment is so lame."
He cracked his knuckles and pulled on his gauntlets, tightened the straps to the perfect amount of tension, then flexed his fingers to ensure everything was settled.
"Fine, whatever, loser."
Lancelot went through his final checks, then summoned his buckler to his left arm.Scrob had been using a full shield throughout, but a full shield in a dual was unnecessary and got in the way more than it helped.Shields were for full combat and certain training exercises.
The horn sounded, and the green light above the door turned on.Scrob all but lunged forward, clearly eager to begin and thinking it meant something that he was called first.Even though in show business, best was always last.
A moment later, the green light went on again, and Lancelot received the superfluous alert that he was to enter the arena.
"The man you've all been waiting for, son of the Lady of the Lake, greatest of the Knights of the Round Table, seducer of queens—" Lancelot's lip curled "—I give you Sir Lancelot du Lac!"The crowds cheered wildly, surprising him, because he hadn't honestly been paying much attention, focused entirely on dragging out every match he could, adding precious minutes to each one that stacked and stacked.
He immediately got messages from his asshole friends mocking him for once again stealing the show, even from Arthur.Which wasn't fair, because archery didn't require Excalibur or Arthur's fancy displays of blinding sunlight.
As the crowd chanted his name, he took up his starting position, pulled his helmet on, and drew his sword.Only then did he finally bother to look at Scrob."Your mods won't save you this round, Master Ballsack.The tide rises, and you will fall.Come at me."
Bitter End
As predicted, that pissed Scrob right the fuck off.Red-faced, he made a laughable lunge that Lancelot dodged with no effort required.
The fight continued that way for several minutes, with Scrob desperately trying to get any sort of hit on him at all and Lancelot dodging and parrying effortlessly.If the fool had any sense, he'd swap his overblown shield for a buckler.It would improve his maneuverability significantly and give him better line of sight for his strikes.Let him struggle.
After about ten minutes, though, something changed.Scrob sort of…fritzedaround the edges, a mark of a mod being activated, and suddenly his fighting was much faster and nastier, and Lancelot started having to work to counter his attacks.
First thing was getting rid of that shield.If Scrob lost it, it was out of play.Swords could be retrieved if knocked out of hand, but everything else—armor, shield, whatever—were removed for the rest of the match.
The rules said magic was allowed, and knocking his ass over with water would be the easiest route, but Lancelot preferred to hold that back for the time being.Something told him that this fight would get much worse before it got better.
Any chance this asshole is tied to our real problems?He sent to the group.
Merlin immediately repliedNo, I have quadruple checked.He's just an ordinary, run of the mill asshole.It's not outside the realm of possibility he'll be co-opted or something, but for now he's just a cheating loser.
How refreshing, to be involved in such a basic tussle.
"Almost got me that time, Ballsack," Lancelot said, parrying a blow and then slamming his foot into the shield, which Scrob had stupidly lowered as he recovered his balance.He was not very good at keeping track of everything.Even with the mods, his lack of training shone through.
"Shut up, Lancelot du Lame," Scrob snarled bitterly.
"That insult was lame," Lancelot said, clucking his tongue.He let Scrob get back to his feet and try another lunge, this time swinging out of the way, shifting into a full turn, and slamming the pommel of his sword into the back of Scrob's neck.The armor there took the brunt of it, but it was enough to give Scrob a nasty jolt and send him tumbling.
He kept his feet, but only barely, and as he turned, Lancelot rushed him, slamming his buckler down on Scrob's shield arm, making him scream from the sharp pain and drop his shield.
Lancelot withdrew, even though he could have easily ended the fight there, as he could have several other times.As Mordred could have, just seconds into their own fight with the dumbass.
To judge from the uproarious laughter of much of the crowd, many could see that Scrob was not just being toyed with, but that it was a team effort.
From the ever-increasing rage on his face, Scrob had figured it out too.
"You think you're so special, Sir Cuckhold?"Scrob hissed."We'll see who laughs last."He started to fritz out heavily, and even the arena seemed to shudder.
