Twogunkid

Good close match @Culwych1. I was definitely sweating it

I figured with you going old west my user theme, I had to go to the British Isles and Arthurian legend as that is yours.

Man I have to worry about elimination everytime with you. You have bested me or tied me in our last two tournament encounters, and you combine Westerns and the Yakuza a pairing so natural I'm shocked we don't see it more. Team Cowboy may have more elites, but this may be an Alamo scenario. I think the average grunts are going to be enough to overwhelm them.

Gentle souls I thought I would try something different this time.

“Dank ferrik!” a host of lights flashed all over Din Djarin’s console, the Lancer Class ship was no Razor Crest and it handled like an unruly bantha. What that no-good Jawa had failed to mention is that this ship was on a New Republic wanted list and these X-Wings seemed to have no interest in communication. All he wanted to do was find his covert and reunite with his people. He had used up most of his resources storming Moff Gideon’s cruiser. Djarin banked the ship as best he could, but this vessel was clearly meant to have a dedicated gunner, he could get no shots off on the more maneuverable snub fighters. “We’re going to have to jump kid-” Djarin looked at the empty passenger seat, it had been the right thing to let the kid go with the Jedi, but he had grown accustomed to the small green child being at his side. Another blast that took down his shields and fried his navcomputer snapped Din out of his reflections. “A blind jump and probably death is better than staying and guaranteed death.” He pulled the lever and watched the stars blur around him. Crossing over golden field of wheat and rye Brave Lancelot spied fire through the sky On the road leaving from Camelot Lancelot went forth, the Grail he sought With sound like thunder or breakers on the shore The sky fire into the woods it bore And broke apart trees like so many castles in the sand The noise enough to cause terror to any beast or man But not brave Lancelot, Arthur’s greatest knight He spurred his horse towards the fire and light “A sign from above” Lancelot cried As he found the fresh dug trench “Or perhaps a Demon from below” as he braved the sulfurous stench “That was not wizard” a bizarre knight said as he lumbered Dazed from the roar and the crash he moved as one who recently slumbered His limbs were clad in shining plate But he bore no crest or sigil of any state “Hail good knight, I am Lancelot du Lac Be ye Christian friend or terrible foe?” “What even is a Christian? It is a word I do not know.” Upon hearing this Lancelot saw the warrior’s lance And knew it best to test his valor here For this heathen knight in Arthur’s lands Was not a foe for Brave Lancelot to fear “Tell me your name Knight and whom you serve Christian or pagan, the service is the least you deserve” “I am Din Djarin. I am on a quest for my people. Have you seen any Mandalorians Warriors dressed like me?” Din Djarin found Lancelot’s speech strange With rhyme and meter, the poetry beyond his range “I am on a quest for the Holy Grail Sir Djarin I have not seen your people in Arthur’s lands which you are far in.” “Pagan knight let me test your mettle, I see you carry with you a lance I have lance and sword as well Let us fight and our differences do settle.” Brave Lancelot dismounted and placed his sword upon the ground He produced a strong spear and closed his visor with a pound The other warrior reached to his side, for something he did not find there Before taking out his polearm and spraying fire in the air Lancelot lept back from the unexpected jet of flame “Sir Djarin you are full of tricks, but I will send you back from whence you came” Lancelot bore down on the Mandalorian His lance shook the warrior’s core But his mighty Beskar held Against du Lac’s blows as it held before Gentle reader do not think this fight unfair For the Mandalorian’s blaster and dark saber still rest upon his chair So with Lancelot out to prove his steel and Mando looking tough Who wins this crossover brawl? I have said enough.

I love Balsa, but she is a normal human. Highly gifted with the spear, a talented survivalist, and a skilled strategist, and most impressively an anime woman over age 30 who is not relegated to the role of a mother who stays home. But she has absolutely no shot against a Viltrumite.

Fun draft guys. I plan to win next time. Surely I won't draft Trevor Belmont to be a liability a third time...

Would not be the first time Culwych1 has tied the finals.

I like the Joes here. I'm assuming LARP combat and there are rules though.

I don't think the pizza capacity is a problem. Even in a regular sized sports car, dozens of pizzas can easily be fit.

I kind of am leaning T towards the balance argument.

Straight up fight in a bamboo forest

Fugate breathed a sigh of relief. That oaf Columbo was no closer to catching him, but slipping in a few gaps into his own schedule to ensure that the crimelabs could find no trace of his influence was a nice touch. He still didn’t like that Columbo had latched on to that missing piece of Dr. Elliot’s schedule. A piece he had so carefully removed. It now sat precisely where it should be in Fugate’s personal favorite grandfather clock. He looked over his schedule, his next appointment was a full two minutes late. Whoever this “Maury Memento” was, he certainly wasn’t making a good impression. Fugate looked around the room. He had dozens of clocks on the walls. This couldn’t be right though. Each one read a different time. That couldn’t be right. Some were off by seconds, others minutes, some hours. This can’t be. Fugate began to sweat. His own watch read that Mr. Memento had thirty seconds to be here, not enough time to fix this, his whole schedule for the day was going to be ruined. “Gosh I’m sorry to interrupt like this.” Lieutenant Columbo, entering at the worst time and unwanted, strolled into Fugate’s office. “Your secretary told me you had an appointment canceled and I figured I could just slip in and I could ask you a few questions.” “Lieutenant, I don't have time for your asinine interrogations right now. My consulting appointment should be here any moment-” Fugate found himself raising his voice at the Lieutenant. His eyes resting back on the Grandfather clock where his own personal schedule book from the day of the murder and the appointment book page of Dr. Elliot were carefully hidden. Surely no one had looked in there. It still read the correct time. “I understand Mr. Fugate, you are a very busy man. I just have something I wanted to ask you. I won’t be more than a minute.” Columbo stopped to fumble with a lighter to ignite his cheap cigar. The slightly offbeat ticking off the adjusted clocks was eating at Fugate’s self-control. “You keep journals of all your appointments, but you still haven’t found the one for the week of the 23rd? I’d really like to lock down where Dr. Elliot was and his time with you would be a great help to me sir.” “I already told you, I must have misplaced it. Regardless, I was with Commissioner Gordon at 9:01 PM and prior to that I was on my way there.” Fugate checked his pocketwatch, why was it different than his wrist watch? “Say, do you have the time?” Fugate began stammering, he wasn’t sure if he had the time or not. “Oh I forget to wind my watch all the time, but I know that watch of yours is wound, because when you let me see it the other day I wound it for you sir. Gee, you must be real distressed about that missing journal” Fugate sneered at Columbo. He had dared to wind his watch? That would throw his whole day off. Columbo walked over to the wall of clocks. “All these times are wrong sir. I’m the same way. I can’t sleep when I get a case like this. You forget the little things I guess.” “I figured someone like you would have a terrific memory for times and dates, but I guess that’s why you write things down. You see sir, I checked with Dr. Elliot’s secretary about his time with your consulting firm. You were always on time. To the second, and he paid you handsomely for your consulting.” Columbo got up and began adjusting one of the wallcocks to match his personal wristwatch. “And where are you going with this Columbo?” Fugate was grinding his teeth. Where was his next appointment? It would give him the perfect excuse to get the Lieutenant out of here. “Oh just observing sir. The thing is, Dr. Elliot’s watch didn’t match up with his time of death either. I figured that out by the Wayne Manor Grandfather clock. That clock loses time according to Mr. Pennyworth, so it shouldn’t have been so close to the correct time at the time of the murder and the party guests didn’t find Dr. Elliot till 9:15 with his watch reading 9:04, and the coroner fixed the time of death around nine o’clock” “Well there you go, your murderer must have been there at 9 o’clock.” Fugate looked at his schedule, it was oddly free after Mr. Memento’s appointment. “You see Sir,” Columbo opened the face of another clock and began to adjust it. “There is some wiggle room sir, you see the coroner is just giving their best estimate. I think Dr. Elliot was killed earlier than 9:04 about 11 minutes earlier at 8:53 PM.” “What could possibly lead you to this insane conclusion? “It’s just that I checked with Dr. Elliot’s accountant, they were canceling the use of your services. Nothing had been finalized and he had just talked with the accountant about it, but then I found it in his planner.” Columbo produced the small spiral calendar and flipped to a future date, “March 15th, Terminate” Columbo mumbled a bit and looked at the book. “Contract. And this sir” Columbo flipped to a different page where he had drawn a lot in pencil. “Indented writing sir. You see when someone writes with a pen or a pencil on paper they leave an indented mark. And this mark can sometimes be seen on other pages, and matching up right with the date of the 23rd is this note. Wayne Manor 8:52 PM, CK. This was when the murder took place sir.” “So you need to find this CK.” “You know what an incredible coincidence it was, I walked from Wayne Manor to the parking lot and then drove to the point where you met commissioner Gordon and it took me exactly 7 minutes 14 seconds to get there, but it took me 8 minutes 46 seconds to get there when I stopped to fix the time at the Grandfather clock. Commissioner Gordon reports that he met you over the police radio and that he would be busy for a bit. The time of that transmission was 9:01 PM and 51 seconds. You were a little late to that meeting. That’s very out of character for you.” “I suppose even the best of once and while get delayed. One cannot account for every variable.” “Oh I understand sir. I’m late all the time.” Columbo positioned himself in front of the clock where the fatal evidence was hid. “But did you know sir, Dr. Elliot had a nickname for you?” Fugate was squirming. Columbo could bumble his way into the evidence right now. “He called you the Clock King. Sometimes he even wrote CK for short, just like he did for the date on March 15th. That’s why you did it sir. He was going to fire you and tarnish your image with the public. A respected figure like Dr. Elliot firing you would no doubt have repercussions. Still, you met with him and you no doubt knew enough about some of his affairs that you could arrange a meeting at Wayne Manor under some pretext.” “I do have to apologize for one thing sir. I made a fake appointment. Maury Memento, Memento Mori, Remember me? I thought the Latin phrase might make it better for you, but I just needed a time when we could meet like this. This journal here and these etchings really paint a clear picture of what happened.” Columbo opened the face of the Grandfather clock. Fugate reached into his desk drawer and produced a snub nosed revolver which he prepared to level at the Lieutenant. “Very well put together Lieutenant. Yes, I killed Dr. Elliot to hush up his plans to lay off my firm, but his practices would have never succeeded without my masterful efficiency. I’m impressed with your intentional lateness and use of inefficiency as a weapon. Yt’s a shame you broke into my office without a warrant and I feared for my life.” “On the ground dirtbag!” Bullock kicked open the door to the office, and he and Montoya leveled their service weapons at Fugate. “I’ve heard enough to make sure they put you away a long time four eyes.” Fugate let the revolved drop to the ground as the two officers wrestled him down and cuffed him. Fugate internally cursed, Columbo hadn’t even needed the evidence he wrote himself about the murder, he had been outfoxed by this bumbling habitually late frumpy detective.

I technically have more points than you. I just get no more matches

Also poor Trevor has been a handicap losing more than he wins for me for a second time