This is an example of how combat plays out with the Stormbringer system. It is as simple as writing what your character would do next.
The rolls, math and rules will be calculated behind the scenes based on your posts and character's skills. This example shows combat between 4 opponents (3 npc) simultaneously, in blue are the player posts (me) and the red are the GMs (VS) posts of results and NPC actions.
I'll post the same example with an explanation of how each result was calculated for those of you who are curious how it all comes together behind the scenes, but I will wait on that until we have a fourth player.
It was no time for thinking, nor did she want to. Thought was shoved aside with a violent lunge forward. She rushed into the man with the net. She would not be pinned down!
Sianna shoved the shield at his flank and swung her sword low swinging upward, as if to cleave him in two.
Ungainly in the madding clots of mud, Sianna lurches like a bull shredding its hobbles and bursts into the Net-wielding warrior. He dances aside, his trident shearing against her sword blow with sparks.
Before her shield can strike his flank, she hears the pop of the Two-Sword's weapon - Grund's man - shearing swift as a bullet for her head. Her athletic form twists, bringing the shield up, blocking a slash of his gladius that surely would have severed her head in a single motion.
Then her shield must twist again, knocking the staccato jabbing of the trident away as the Net wielder stings it at her vulnerable side. But, rather than press his advantage, Two Sword must turn as well, the mess of soil slurping vomitously around his boots, to bash aside the titanic swing of the Armored warrior's club.
Sianna's confusion is costing her and she makes an effort to focus on one thing at a time. The one with the net needs to go down before he can cast it. She swings her sword at him again.
Sianna's sword smacks like a bolt of lightning into the Net wielder's trident. In a sparking eruption, the weapon goes hurling, end over end, into the crowd, slamming into the wood walls to impale point first, skewering a gasp from the stunned audience.
But the gasp is smothered by the wailing of the warrior, as Sianna's stroke carried past the spear, sheared into the chubby meat of his thigh, and cleaved a chunk out of it. It looks like sectioned pork. It sprays like a burst cask.
Blood blows everywhere in a theatric scarlet fan as the warrior clutches his leg and topples into the ground before Sianna, shaking and bawling, spit-strewn lips writhing in the mud.
The shocked crowd hoots, boos, cheers and snarls a host of half-formed demands and idiot expletives. But in Sianna's immediate experience, there is only the warrior, now humbled to the helpless agony of an infant, pink and twitching, holding his chopped leg as he leaks color and sobs.
Behind her, the crash of wood on metal signals a fierce melee between Two Sword and the Armored warrior.
Spinning to face the two-sworded warrior Sianna set her stance and forced as much power as she could into the strike of her sword against the back of Grund's man's neck.
The crowd boos as Sianna lunges for the Two Sword's back. They go silent as he whirls, striking her sword away, and nearly pokes her clear through the eye with his sword.
Knocking his blade back with her shield, Sianna swings it to block his next attack, but then feels the sting of his sword shearing through the armor plating on her shoulder. It is a flesh wound - she bats his blade back before it can bite bone or shear nerve; she bats his next attack away - but is still an agonizing heat lancing through the whole of her side. She can feel blood coursing down her arm.
The crowd cheers, hoots. Two Sword spins, making the Armored mauler stagger back, his swing falling short.
She couldn't afford another fumble like that. If the damn noise would stop she could concentrate! The burning in her shoulder brought need the to dispatch Two-Swords into sharp focus.
Reverting to what she knew best, Sianna got her weight behind her shield and shoved it at him trying to topple him while her arm pulled up to slice at the space between the plates of his armor.
A blaze of motion results.
Her shield snaps up; he is cast back; he is springing forward; his sword is at her eye; his sword is sent hurtling off by her shield; her sword is in his belly and he buckles, wailing, goes down like a ruptured sack, crumples, and the Club wielder is coming in, driving his maul for her head; he is stumbling back, parried, groaning...
And the crowd roars in cheering her.
Spinning around Sianna's sword is a blur as it slices through the air at the stumbling Club-Man.
The Sword meets the club and is beat aside. The crowd gasps.
But as his club rumbles down, Sianna's shield strikes it aside and her sword flashes up.
Only by barely catching it on his club does the Armored man keep it from piercing his gut, and sending him to join Grund's man on the ground in fervid spasms.
Sianna dives back in with the shield bashing at his flank and sword slashing toward his middle.
Sianna's shield sends him sprawling to collide with the wall, blood arcing from a broken lip.
His club beats aside the second attack desperately, keeping him alive and fighting as he struggles back to his feet.
"Stay down!" Sianna snarled.
Again she shoved forward with the shield with her sword swinging up toward his chest.
Bashing away at the club fighter, Sianna makes contact with his head, knocking into his broad shoulders and sturdy helmet.
The next blow glances cleanly off of his armor.
And when he swings, she follows with a skilled riposte, stabbing into the greaves of his layered armor and drawing a thin convulsion of blood.
He groans, backing up, then springing forward with a grunt and a slice of his maul.
"Down, I said stay down!"
This time Sianna lunged forward with her sword leading and jabbed it down at his knee while she lifted her elbow and bashed her sword at his face
Sianna sees the shield cleave for his knee; she sees his club dash down, deflecting the blow. And she sees her sword point drive high, over his arms' long drop to where they blocked the shield.
She does not see where within his bronze helmet her sword drives. She only hears the horrid, wet ripping noise - hears a clotted pop, and the pinging crackle of sinew pulling straight off of bone. She only smells the ripe, sweet reek of blood as it jets from his crooked helmet.
Then she sees him collapse, wailing, holding his head in one hand, and tenderly cradling the fibrous stump of a dangling ocular nerve in the other.
The crowd rushes with a collective gasp. Then they roar to cheer the victor - the victrix - of the grand event's ultimate combat.
In the stands, Sianna can feel the Wolf watching her with lambent pride. But the first sight she sees above her in the stands is the form of Grund, bent nearly double in impotent rage, glaring down over the wreckage of his flopping champion to where the girl who bested his finest stands tall.