NationStates Jolt Archive

"Transending history and the world,
a tale of souls and swords, eternally retold.
Prove thy worth, prove thy soul
Within the gaping maw of combat"

The words were engraved into the huge oak door which was the enterance to the great arena. It had been locked for over three years, what with recent events pushing entertainment and honor out of the window for a brief period.

There was a great number of people here, all waiting outside of this great door, the varaity of the combaticants was huge and diverse. Great hulking orcs who held thier claymores proudly as thye sized up the opposition silently, robed figures who smelt of the strange components they used in their spells, teams of gladiators, lizardmen who sharpened thier harpoons and all the races within the lands. Everyone was here for various contests whihc had been displayed here and there within the lands, for there were many different events for different warriors.

The doors remained closed, but the lock would be removed as soon as the preparations were finished. The staff worked tirelessly within the colosseum like arena.

The arena itself was much like the Roman equivilant of a colosseum, the audiance who would arrive in a days time would fill the rows which surrounded the playing field. The playing field was far from the snad and dirt which ancient gladiators would fight each other. It was utterly covered with runes which had been forged over thirty years. This place was very simple once, but now....it was pinnical of the contest arenas in the lands. It could form into different arenas should it require, summon great expanses of water so that naval combat could be made, hills and walls could be raised, or all kinds of situations reconstrcuted or produced.

All of this, was the work of one man who lead all of these events, driving on for the best duels and challenging of honor on the field. He stood in his private chamber, which had the greatest view of the combat area. The floor was currently just a white, with golden runes ingraved into every pavement. He was a human, well....almost. He was a half-breed....although none knew what. He certainly was a half-breed with some great creature, due to his appearance and the words he spoke.

He rubbed his chin with his dark hand, which was elegant and refined, as though it was one of an elf. His fine actue eyes could see his staff wroking on the floors, checking that the runes were still functioning, checking the lower levels to see if the rooms had been prepared, food was being produced for the great number of combaticants which would come here.

He was robed in a great silver-purple cloak which shimmered in the low light. It was magical in nature, it seemed as though the very night itself had merged with the moon and formed this fabric. He wore chainmail underneth this fine garment.

His face however, was the most striking of all of his features. It was as if carved from stone, it was perfect in almost every way, the eyes were mercury which swirled around within thier pools of knowledge. His mouth was thin, and his toungue was like that of a serpant.

A member of staff came forward towards this being, and asked a question.

"Ranarotharack? Shall we allow the combaticants in?" The man behind him addressed him by his full name. A most odd one, but his actual name was unpronoucable by most toungues.

He replied, his tone soothing and calm, as it always was. It hid nothing, as if he was a fountain of knowledge to which constantly flowed. His words were soft and had that sense of having an accent from a very ancient langauge.

"No....soon though. I will open it when I feel the arena is ready. I will give you time to ready."

Ranarotharack did nto turn, he continued to look down on his masterpiece.

"Yes....yes sir." The staffmember replied, and hurried down the stairs again to inform the others.

Ranarotharack continued his musings, not that he had stopped in them. He had a rare ability, to which only the greatest of creatures had, and perhaps.....it was one of his most powerful. He could multitask effortlessly. His mind was almost that of three or four, it could consentrate on multiple things at once with ease. This had been what had given him the cutting edge when he escaped the drow arenas, and escaped. He had learned much from the drow......

---

The doors remained shut, and some of the combaticants grew impatient.

"Whe' te frelling hella are we gunna gunna ge' in!" A dwarf bellowed, banging his plated fist against the door, which did not even stir it, but created a low "bum". The dwarf was getting extremely impatient, and one of his companions, a half-orc which held a great claymore put his hand upon the dwarf's shoulder, and said some wise words to be patient. He simply sighed and nodded his head, and stroked his beard.

"Ah, here comes the next group of combaticants." An elf remarked, his fine voice traveling to the others.

And there, was a great traveling group of adventures, from so many races and professions came forward to meet with the others, and join in combat to gain a prize which was legendary.

(OOC Ok. The premise is this, as I am sure you have gathered it already. Like the gladitoral rings, only with fantasy. But, there are some interesting twists. New "games" have been created, which will go somehting like this, so that everyone can go into something that they would be suited for. Mage Arenas, Warrior Tests, Obsical Races, Team Events and more if you want. If you have an idea for a contest, please T-gram me and I will consider it. I do NOT want supermodded characters etc, and preferably, do not bring in those character who you have been using for ages and ages, because no one can take that their character has lost :) . There will be different power levels, low, medium, and obviously, high. Personally thinking, the lower your level, the better, because weaker charactrs are more interesting to play.

I will provide groups of characters, and you can make up NPCs to converse with. All races allowed. I intend not to make this entire thread fighting fighting fighting, but itneraction between freinds, enemies, teams, staff etc. It will be interesting if everyone pulls together and makes an effort. I want high quality rping here :D

Post in the recriutment thread any questions, queries, suggestions, advice or anything at all to do with this. I will be the judge of certain things (if there is an arguement between if you can or cannot do something I wil decide if you cannot.). This is not to the death, and rules will be explained for each round. Remember, THIS IS NOT ABOUT WHO WINS OR LOSES. Be a good loser, and be a good winner, and accept when you lose. It is the taking part :D

You can introduce yourself by coming in with the group coming in now, or you can be part of the group already there. Please feel free to create NPCs to interact with, but the dwarf and half-orc are mine :D

Join here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2926085#2926085))

TAG, this looks very interesting! Give me some time to think of an entrance...

Tag. New character that CAN die it is.

Bump...

(Please do not make an intro post just yet. Patience, we need more players in this before we can start. This will take some time before this launches, as we need more players. Tell those who you would think would fit right in, or are good rpers, and I want this HIGH QUALITY. I will kick those who do not show a good level of rp)

Rikan walked softly, her eyes watching the crowds about her. She said nothing as she studied each being there. Some were arrogant and would fall harshly. Others were like herself, knowing their strengths and weaknesses, and kept their thoughts to themselves.

It was said that the most dangerous of enemies to fight was the one that you never heard, never saw, never knew was there. For then, they could strike from anywhere, like a viper. Deadly. Cold. A perfect killing machine...

http://groups.msn.com/_Secure/0UADRAt8Zd0Af2CrpaMV24TwbuxvybmCuhZfO8UMvUDkngmytJmQQJdIML9NBZQyHXejnYZuoZB6mMQlvlXPicjVpuMeh2fcwWMs Gx8QDSn0TGEEi!unfGXSC1hcAcNYX/deistyina.jpg?dc=4675458798536403902

Rikan strolled up to the table just outside the gladiators' quarters of the colosseum.

A squat man sat there, a quill in hand, a paper in the other listing the various categories of fighting that would take place.

"Name?" he asked flatly.

"Rikan Tansho." she replied confidently.

"Nickname?"

"Viper."

"Specialty?"

"Warrior combat."

"Very well then, Viper, you will take your second left down the way here, that will be where you are quartered for the time you are here. Now if you would just sign your name here, you may be on your way."

She did so, and soon followed the instructions to the doors of the quarters. She noticed a sign upon the door requesting all to remain out of the quarters until further notice. She noted several piles of belongings in different places about the benches outside the doors.

Fools...to leave their weapons unchecked... she thought to herself. Setting down her sack, she reached up and adjusted her hair, and set to cleaning and sharpening her weapons she had with her. Her whetstone moved delicately across the surfaces of her blades on her dual-bladed sword and her dual arm swords. She continued this slowly, methodically, all the while preparing herself mentally for what would come...

EDIT::
OOC: I didn't see your post until too late...just simply assume that my character is doing as she is, minding her own business while waiting... Sorry about that...

(OOC Can you edit that please. The doors will remain closed for a while, so hang around the enterance. in front of the door for a while. I have an enterance planned, for when thd oors do open. I will have some NPCs interact with your character in the mean time, to talk etc. That door will remain closed until everyone is here.)

ooc: done...

The wind swept accross the barren land. This place was almost entirely desert, the place had a few pathetic places of grass. The sand got in the eyes, although the sun was not burning as somne deserts did. The sunlight was rather pleasant, warming, but not the with the intensity of other deserts. Water was not too scarce, there was a great valley nearby where a great river flowed. However, you could not really scale down the perilous drop everytime you wanted water, so a great "well" was created, a great construction of wood and rope, which when water was required, would bring up a massive bowl of water up from the clean, cool waters.

The combaticants remained still, conversations taking up between freinds, strangers and old rivals. It was apparent that there was a great deal of excitement here today. There were new combaticants, eager to prove thier worth, and older more experianced gladiators. They stood out, as they remained quieter, eying up thier opponents.

One such person was Magnus, a mage from the far reaches of Thay, a nation of noticable wealth. He was equiped with a great flambouyant robe, which was crimson and grew more intense as it went up. It had various runes upon it's surface, all with that bright red. His gray slate eyes looked over around the competition.

He had been fighting for over ten years, his reputation was rather small, but those who knew him, respected his name and skills. He did not have a staff as other mages did, he kept his hands within the folds of his robes, but he definately did have some potent items to use. He smelt of the exotic scents of magical components which mages used to aid in thier spells.

His face was sunken, he looked half-dead, his hair was a deep black which hung over his head, hiding most of his features. His face was thin, his skin had a bronze look to it however, most likely he had grown used to the sunlight in these places.

Magnus looked over at the competion of other mages and warriors. He knew that in order to win, he must understand the others. Some he knew, some had beaten him before. An old rival stared at him, a ice cold individual with robes to match. He had a staff however, one which was like a mace on the top, which had runes covering its surface. His face had light blue paint upon it in the shapes of rune. They had once worked as a team, but thier differences in one matter had made them bitter rivals.

But Magnus ignored him for the moment. He knew a way to defeat him now, he knew how he lost last time. He looked over to a female, with unusal weapons. Well, many warriors hailed from many aprts of the world, and with it, came different weapons. He remembered his first time when he had mocked a gnome who had only a small staff. When the staff shot forth five great magical chains, almost costing him the match, he valued that looks could be decieving.

He walked over to her, simply looking at her weapons as she sharpened them. He raised his eyebrow and said in a low raspy voice.

"Your first time at these events?"

[tag, though I do want to note that I generally stick to modern characters who don't need guns but know of their existance...]

Rikan paused her sharpening and looked up at the one who spoke to her. Before her stood a weathered man wearing an elaborate robe covered with runes.

A mage... she thought to herself.

She allowed her eyes to wander carefully over the man, paying close attention to the man's facial features. Her eyes bore heavily into the mage's own. She could see that her unwavering, penetrating gaze unsettled the mage. He could see in her eyes a coldness to the world, a coldness that spawned from a dark past that hid within the abyss of her eyes. An unspoken past...

She stood and extended her hand and spoke with an air of confidence, yet also filled with wisdom.

"Rikan Tansho. Most know me as the Viper, though I could care less for names."

As she spoke, she watched him, noting how his eyes sized her up, studied her weapons.

An experienced fighter in his own respect she thought to herself.

"Yes, it is my first time here, However, I have battled many a variety of characters in my time, most notably vampires."

She spoke the last word icily and with contempt. She did not care if the mage made anything of it. What mattered was that she was an experienced fighter, something that shouldn't be brushed aside lightly.

And yet, many still did that, all because she was a woman.

They were the fools. Yet, as she watched the mage, he didn't strike her as one of them.

Magnus kept his hands within the folds of his robes. He was not unnerved, but he certainly saw skill within this one. Fortunatly, he would nto have to face her. Unless there was a massive group battle. Those he hated, everyone had an almost equal chance of winning.

He nodded in recognision.

"Your first time eh? Well three pieces of advice. One, if you are going to go into a team battle, choose your partner carefully. Two, if a grand battle is proclaimed, where everyone is against everyone, take your time and allow people to come to you. And thirdly, and most importantly, do not frell with the staff, or the owner. The owner will take absolutely no bullshit, and fights better than all the staff put together." Magnus advised.

Rikan listened carefully. Her hand had withdrawn itself back to her side.

"Your advice is appreciated mage. I will keep them in mind. If this team battle you speak of comes to happen, I would not mind having you as my ally. We may benefit one another quite well."

She turned and picked up her dual arm blades, and held them in her hands as she faced the mage again.

"I noticed you were eyeing these. Have you seen this type of weapon before?"

"Pah. Maybe. Maybe. My old partner and I were going to enter into the mage team battles....if they have enough people for it, I could go with you. But I would have to see how well you fight. As to your weapons, I have seen many different kinds of weapons, more exotic than that, but no I have not seen those. What are they?" Magnus asked, stroking his chin.

Rikan smiled politely and held her weapons closer for him to see.

"These are my favorites. I call them my DABs, Dual Arm Blades. They are made of an exotic metal I will not reveal to you nor anyone else here. This metal is much stronger than titanium, and is very durable in many conditions. They attach to my arm like so."

She attached one of the blades to her forearm and flicked her wrist methodically. Instantly the blades extracted themselves from their protective casing and lengthened to their deadly reaches, locking into place.

"A weapon I forged of my own. Lightweight, yet deadly. It has stood up well against swords that were bulkier, heavier, and have bested a number of them as well."

She lifted a small cover and pressed a button that lay on her forearm, watching as the blades retracted back into their casing. She put on her second DAB onto her other arm and spoke afterwards:

"My skill, you will see. I only hope you will be impressed of my style of fighting, and find it worthy to your liking. In return, I shall watch your fights as well, and make my own judgements."

This is a BUMP on behalf of Redeemed Heroes....

"I see....very interesting. And I ay choose you as a partner. We shall see...we shall see." Magnus said, and leaned against one of the walls, looking at the others waiting. There seemed to be some newer ones now...

(OOC I am allowing others to make thier introduction now)

An influx of new combicants came in, the same sight of exotic weappons, colours of skins and statues all came flowing into this hub bub of chattering and anticipation.

T'zark T'kahndir remained quiet, his gaze flickering about nervously. Most of his life, until quite recently, had been spent below ground; he was unused to open space and crowds of people. Wearing only a leather tunic, a belt, and a black cloak, he carryed his unsheathed sword thrust through a metal ring in his belt. The slender lizardman stood in the open, allowing the sun to warm his black cloak; his scales glowed a dull red, like the embers of a banked fire. His left arm was incased in a metal framework- some sort of arm guard, from the look of it- and he carried several throwing knives tucked into his belt.
The reptile's face was not very expressive, but he looked shy rather than unfriendly as he scanned the crowd.

Laine Cudan looked around the entrance to the colosseum as she gracefully landed on the floor. All manner of peoples from elves to lizard men to mages populated the crowded space.

Laine herself was dressed in full body armor, including small shields on her wrists. The armor was a strange mixture between white and green, a morphing of wood and light. It gave off a faint glow as she walked to a bench and sat down. The flight here had some bad turbulance, and she was pretty tired. Laine opened her bag, took a bite of bread, and looked around.

Laine had never seen such a bizzare assortment of creatures in one place before. She spotted groups of Mattock-wielding dwarves, Mace-bearing gladiators, and the odd wizard and lizard-man. One of the reptiles caught her eye. He had an odd arm armor and was looking a bit uncertian as he looked around at the crowd. She walked toward him. (This is Dar-Kavryn's charecter.)

"Hello," She said in a soft, yet strong, flowing voice. "You seem a tad lost. Do you need any help?" It had been a long time since she spoke to anyone besides her own kind.

The cloaked figure moved in the terrain-devouring long-legged stride of the Fhellant'im. His face was obscured behind the white veil-wrap that was worn to keep the sand out of one's face, and of course, had other purposes.

Sheathed at this side were the twin blades of the Fhellanti Combatant, their black braided grips were custom-fitted to his hands, and their bladed guards were lacquered black.

Silver eyes peered out of the shadows of his hood, and they marked him as surely as if he wore a nametag. They marked him as having the blood of the Ascended running through his veins.

Of course, that wasn't anything that every other Fhellant'im couldn't claim...

Regardless, the tall man moved with a sense of confidence and purpose that was often so lacking among your average Solar, and that confidence was well founded.

The nine concentric circles branded onto his right forearm, currently obscured by the sleeve of his loose garment, but present nonetheless, marked him as a Combatant of the Ninth Circle, a Sub-Master.

His name was Kiernan. Kiernan il-Karai. Combatant of Fhellantir, he wouldn't use the word warrior to describe himself, for he was not one. Warriors were lacking in discipline, he was different.

He whistled shrilly, and a rapid whack-a-whack-a-whack-a sounded the approach of his mount. The swift desert Vanti, the traditional mount of the Fhellant'im, padded up beside her master.

She resembled nothing so much as a great sand-colored lizard, and she came to a stop with an unusual grace. She placed her head by her masters left hip, and was obliged with a quick scratch in the sensitive area beneath one of the neck scales.

Held at the ready with straps and hooks on the war saddle was the traditional armament of the desert rider, with a few extras thrown in for fun.

The long lance of the Vanti-Riders was held vertical in a holster of sorts, and held in place with straps. Opposite the lance was a composite horse bow. It clicked in at a seventy five kilo draw, and if a normal man might have trouble with that, Kiernan was not a normal man.

Besides, what he shot with that bow tended to stay down...

Accompanying the bow were two quivers, one for the armor-penetrating pile arrows, the other for the broad-headed, barbed, war arrows.

On the same side as the lance, was a battle hammer, its beak was slightly bladed, and the barb opposite it was nasty enough to constitute recognition in its own right. Finishing the weapon was a six inch spike jutting top.

The hammer did wonders against armor of all sorts, but especially plate, and to balance it on the saddle, Kiernan kept a short-hafted war hatchet, just in case.

Finally, coiled openly at the hip of the rider, was Kiernan's newest fancy, a whip-knife. Twelve feet in length, with the last eighteen inches bearing a set of twenty four thin, narrow blades, arranged in sets of four. Finally, tipping the weapon was an eight inch dual-edged knife blade.

He'd been practicing with the weapon, and though he only considered himself adequate...he was also a harsh perfectionist. Besides, he figured, if he was going to be a gladiator, well, a weapon ought to be a crowd pleaser.

He swung up onto the Vanti's saddle, and rode the last few measures to the arena in dignified silence.

He was Kiernan il-Karai, and his dance was quite deadly.

Quite deadly indeed.

Amistad frowned as he walked calmly through the lands. His handsome face furrowed in concentration as he attempted to remember the directions given him. He had been journeying for days and still hadn't found the gladiator arena. Slightly irked, Amistad glanced up at the hot sun beating down upon him. Sighing wearily, Amistad resigned himself to continuing to trudge on.

As he walked, Amistad thought back his numerous experience that he had undergone since the disappearance of his master, the Dragonlord, Omnus Stormrider. He had wandered through the Middle Kingdom, hounded by the agents of the Dark One. With these journeys, Amistad had discovered his true love, Shi Teng. But found almost immediately that he had lost it when Shi Teng died in his arms, killed by Amistad's carelessness. Finally tracing the Dark One to the supposed Son of Heaven, the Emperor of the Qin Dynasty, Amistad in great fury killed the Emperor, in effect fulfilling the dark prophecy. In shock, Amistad fled the Middle Kingdom, leaving it in a state of disarray and civil war.

Now with the invitation to the grandest gladiator event in history, Amistad hoped to redeem himself and regain the last shred of self-respect he possessed. In anger, Amistad sent his sword the golden blade known as the Sword of Cala flying out of its sheathe and slamming into the ground, sending a minor shockwave through.

With a sigh, Amistad pulled the Sword of Cala out of the ground and continued on his journeys.

Hours later, as Amistad was about to give up, he discovered the grandiose coliseum. Sighing with relief, Amistad gazed in silence at the grandiose structure and intoned a litany to victory, "Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival."

Shaking his head to relieve himself of the deep sorrow that made up his being and tormented his soul, Amistad warily walked into the crowds of fighters gathered, walking quickly through them balanced carefully on the balls of his feet. As he gazed about, Amistad kept his face hard and impassive, while he glanced around, gauging the abilities of his opponents. Shaking his head at the myriad of races, Amistad couldn't help thinking of his lost love, his immortal beloved.

With a sigh, Amistad decided to leave the crowds and wander around, to know his environment. Wordlessly, Amistad wheeled on the heels of his feet and headed straight towards the coliseum.

He stopped when he heard the conversation two fighters were having. One obviously was nothing more than a mage, but the other was very intriguing. From what Amistad could gather, the other was an assassin or a rogue. Curious, Amistad listened to them speak. When he heard the rogue say something incredibly pompous, Amistad stepped forth and said, "The one whose judgment counts most in your life is the one staring back in the glass."

Rikan turned to the speaker, some man who had walked up. She studied him carefully.

Intriging fellow...and he seems like someone important...

She spoke:

"Aye, you speak of the truth, yet judgments do not focus on one point of view alone. The mirror only reflects what is behind you, not what comes from the sides. It is like a horse with blinds on, they can only see what is in front of them. What if a wolf approaches from the side, hunting the horse. Does it see the wolf? No. One must take in views from every direction to determine one's true place."

After saying that she nodded respectfully to the speaker, and continued speaking:

"I am Rikan Tansho, hailing from the Eastern Forests of Tarlachia, Master and Commander of the Rahka Kin No. Who may you be?"

Laine had never seen such a bizzare assortment of creatures in one place before. She spotted groups of Mattock-wielding dwarves, Mace-bearing gladiators, and the odd wizard and lizard-man. One of the reptiles caught her eye. He had an odd arm armor and was looking a bit uncertian as he looked around at the crowd. She walked toward him. (This is Dar-Kavryn's charecter.)

"Hello," She said in a soft, yet strong, flowing voice. "You seem a tad lost. Do you need any help?" It had been a long time since she spoke to anyone besides her own kind.
Turning toward Laine, T'zark replied.
"Ah, it iss jusst that I am not ussed to the ssurfacce yet... Mosst of my life hass been sspent in the cavess of my homeland, and it makess me a bit nervouss sstill to be under the open ssky... esspeccially in a new ssituation" His voice was quiet; he tended to hiss sibilants, and shorten other consonants almost to clicks. He seemed to be calming as he added "It helpss to sspeak with another; thank you. I am T'zark T'kahndir; may I assk your name?" His name was even more oddly pronounced, and clearly originated from a different language.

Kiernan reined in his Vanti, and the lizard dropped from its characteristic terrain-devouring loping gait to a much slower pace. The Vanti was an oddity among desert mounts, though it appeared to be merely one of the hundreds of riding lizards common to such worlds.

The lizards bonded with their riders, and one of the many reasons they were so well-loved and protected by their Fhellanti Masters was their loyalty. After all, it never heart to have a big, fast, nasty pal backing you up.

The sand-colored lizards measured ten feet from nose to the beginning of the tail, with a twelve foot tail stretching out behind it. They had rather impressive ten inch long fanged teeth, and the tails themselves made excellent weaponry.

Kiernan gave his mount an effectionate scratch on the neck, and if she had been a cat, she would have purred. As she wasn't, she sort of hummed. The sound of a pleased Vanti was distinctive, and it never failed to bring a smile to their rider's lips.

Of course, that wasn't exactly visible, thanks to the white veil he wore.

He slowed his Vanti to a stop as they reached the massive coliseum, and he took in the not unimpressive scenery. Something like this, he could respect.

He carefully studied the assembled crowd of people, memorizing faces, assessing challenges, measuring potential. He had a discerning and skilled eye, thanks to his place of origin, and he considered himself an able judge of men and women, physically at least.

That eye took in stance, muscles, finger twitch, little things that could go unnoticed. He was able to discern, from the grouping of developed muscles, a fighters favored method of attack. It was a skill learned the hard way, just as every other skill he possessed.

For such was the way of the Desert, and such was the way of the Fhellant'im who rode it.

"T'zark T'kahndir," Repeated Laine. "That is a strange name, for a strange folk i suppose. My name is Laine Cudan. I came from the kingdom of Murtag in the south."

She looked the Lizard man over carefully. He seemed quite strong, and probably had some other tricks up his sleeve as well. Laine had fought against a few lizard men and they always seemed to have new suprises every time she came in contact with them.

"Well, T'zark, you seem like an able enough warrior. I suppose it would be good to have some allies here, wouldnt you say?" Laine streached out her hand to the Reptile. She did not trust him yet, but she did like him. Anyways, she thought, it wouldnt hurt to have a friend on the battlefield.

Vorpalis smiled, her equipment carefully kept inside her backpack. Dressed in a long, exquisite silken garment with many tones of blue distributed alongside her outfit. She looked unarmed, using her elven delicate appearance to look more like a spectator than a gladiator.

A loud crack sounded just as she approached the inscription table, this one the third time some man of the crowd tried to slip his hand under her skirt, and the third time she was forced to break a wrist...

"Good Morning, Sire. I'm here for the tournament, Are you the one who handle the inscriptions?"

Januth Yoshi stalked silently into the arena. The sight of many different species all gathered for the purpose of defeating each other in combat intrigued him, but not as much as the possibility of finding the Yang sword.

Yang, the so called other half of the Yin. together the swords gave him immnse powers. Apart, they drove him mad.

Yoshi walked thrgh the melee of figures. Some species he recoginized. most he did not. He found that strange for some reason.

Back when he was Jinna, he probably would have recoginized them all; he knew quite a lot. He knew enough, he supposed, as to become an archeologist. And when he unearthed the two swords of balance, Yin and Yang, he knew much more. The spirits of the two swords possessed him. Gave him all he needed, in return for his husk.

But that all changed... when Stormrider, Omnus Stormrider stole it from him. Took what was rightfully his in the battle over Kordun in the Orient.

But Stormrider had dissappeared, and could not be found. That made Yoshi mad...

The only lead he had was that of Amistad, the student of Stormrider. Perhaps he knew the location of his master, and his ill-begotten goods. He had trailed Amistad to the coliseaum, and now was the time to reveal himself.

Yoshi took off his ceremonial shoulder guards and threw them onto a table, one of hundreds filled with weapons, armor and items of battle.

FIND YANG! FIND OUR TWIN! FIND US!!!

Yoshi winced and shook his head. The voices, they screamed, they begged to be whole once more.

He approached a woman who appeared to be toying with her arm-blade weapons.She looked like a place to start.

"Excuse me madame, do you know where I may find a sir Amistad?"

OOC: sog, check you tgs.

He dismounted with an odd leap-flip-slide maneuver, of the type used by those intimately familiar with the pains of riding a Vanti for long periods of time. The war saddle tended to help some of these problems, but it was not perfect.

He had already assumed that the arena had yet to open, and as such, he decided to amuse himself, and perhaps, a few others. Though of course, that was nowhere near the root of his intentions.

He was stiff and sore from the saddle, and he did not want to fight dismounted in this condition. He would, perhaps, eat and drink later. For now, he needed to stretch, and the easiest way to do that, would be drills.

He sighed, as he led his Vanti to a nearby tree, and let her idle there, perhaps to graze, perhaps not. Then, having set his mount aside, and she would not move, for it was not her way to move without him, he located for himself, a vacant area in which to drill.

He began first with the breathing, steadying himself, finding his center. His balance acquired, he shifted his right arm, and the cloak shifted back, to reveal the black-corded hilts and black-lacquered bladed guards of his twin blades.

He drew both blades in a circular motion, spinning as he did so, and then they were unveiled. The blueish tinted metal was unique to the Fhellant'im, and was possessed of a strength and durability that was beyond belief.

He began to run through maneuvers, and his blades were all but invisible, as they cut and sliced in seemingly random patterns. He whirled and spun, advanced and retreated, parried and riposted, and he did it with his eyes closed.

Often, the only reliable sense to a Fhellant'im was the sense of touch. To see the fighters, dueling in the sandstorms, was to see something that should have been impossible, but the Fhellant'im learned to -feel- their surroundings.

A fluctuation in the air could mean an oncoming blade slash, and thus one moved accordingly.

His hearing was excellent, as was his vision, but it was his sense of touch that was hypersensitive.

Of course, that had its disadvantages, but when the alternative was fighting blindly for your life, you learned to make do.

Well, you either learned, or you died.

Rikan turned to the speaker, some man who had walked up. She studied him carefully.

Intriging fellow...and he seems like someone important...

She spoke:

"Aye, you speak of the truth, yet judgments do not focus on one point of view alone. The mirror only reflects what is behind you, not what comes from the sides. It is like a horse with blinds on, they can only see what is in front of them. What if a wolf approaches from the side, hunting the horse. Does it see the wolf? No. One must take in views from every direction to determine one's true place."

After saying that she nodded respectfully to the speaker, and continued speaking:

"I am Rikan Tansho, hailing from the Eastern Forests of Tarlachia, Master and Commander of the Rahka Kin No. Who may you be?"

Bowing respectfully, Amistad said, "My name is Amistad Crusade, sole disciple of the famed Dragonlord Omnus Stormrider... I hail from the lands far to the east..."

Raven Srvassian wandered up around the large doors. He was marveling at the strong sun and nearly cloudless sky. Back in his homeland it rained or snowed 95% of the time. He wore very little as he could endure the heat of the swamps and the cold of the high mountains. As he looked over the gathering contestants he thought he might be in for some trouble. He knew he wasn't the brightest but he always made up for it in sheer determination. His whole life was a struggle for acceptance. He was never accepted as a Yeti because he was a half-breed and the humans treated him as an abomination. His short life was a long series of fights. He thought that joining in the Yeti-human war would give him companionship. The humans were impressed with his skills with the large two handed sword but they didn't want to be with him after the battle was over. The Yeti only wanted to kill him. The humans told him he was lucky to have killed the insane mage behind the Yeti uprising. He really didn't know, he remembered blazing fireballs, bolts of lightning and things that looked like flexible icicles. In the rage of the fight it seemed as if his body took over and he was able to dodge or deflect the terrible blasts coming from the mage. When he actually hit the mage over the head with his sword, the mage just crumpled and turned to dust. He had picked up many little baubles lying in the dust and wore some of the amulets and rings but he had no clue if they held power or were just pretty. He notices the female contestants and how beautiful some of them are. He is afraid they will sneer at him and make fun of his being a half-breed. He turned to what seemed to be a lizard man. He had noticed the different races and even an angel-like elf but this was fascinating. He would like to meet this exotic creature. How does it fight? If it is cold does he slow down like the lizards at home. He did know one thing he was going to get better at killing if he lived and he wanted to live. Maybe with all of these races he could find a mate or at least a friend, someone to talk to.

The Viper squinted her eyes slightly in reaction to his response.

"Dragonlord eh? It will be interesting to see you in combat, for I have not seen the combat styles of those associated with dragons outside of Tarlachia. We have a few draconians in Tarlachia, but they keep to themselves in the mountains."

Rikan spied the sword that hung on Amistad's back, the hilt displaying an image of both elegance and deadliness. And that was only the hilt! The remainder of the sword would undoubtedly demand more respect.

"Your sword. From here, I see you carry one of fine craftsmanship. Was it passed on to you from your master?"

A voice spoke beside her:

"Excuse me madame, do you know where I may find a sir Amistad?"

Rikan turned her head in response, naturally studying the person before her. Something about this one was setting off her guards and so she responded accordingly.

"Aye. But why do you ask?"

"I ask because he has some knowledge of utmost import with me. Please if you know, divulge the information."

The samurai bowed down and grasped Rikan's hand. He kissed her hand and nodded.

"Forgive my manners. I... have not been myself lately."

Yoshi turned to the other man beside the lady. He noticed that the warrior had a very powerful looking sword.

"What about you sir? Do you know of this... Amistad?"

OOC: Yes, Yoshi is talking to Amistad. He still does not know what amistad looks like.

(...)
"Well, T'zark, you seem like an able enough warrior. I suppose it would be good to have some allies here, wouldnt you say?" Laine streached out her hand to the Reptile. She did not trust him yet, but she did like him. Anyways, she thought, it wouldnt hurt to have a friend on the battlefield.
T'zark shook her hand, and bowed. His hand was surpringly warm for that of a reptile, almost hot. "Almosst alwayss, it iss wisse to have alliess... I would be honored to fight at your sside."
He seemed more relaxed now, and his scales were brightening to the color of a candle flame.
He had not yet noticed Raven's inteterested look.

Click here for a picture of T'zark's sword. (http://66.0.193.113/isroot/www11650/ProductImages/mrl1508.jpg)

"I ask because he has some knowledge of utmost import with me. Please if you know, divulge the information."

The samurai bowed down and grasped Rikan's hand. He kissed her hand and nodded.

"Forgive my manners. I... have not been myself lately."

Yoshi turned to the other man beside the lady. He noticed that the warrior had a very powerful looking sword.

"What about you sir? Do you know of this... Amistad?"

OOC: Yes, Yoshi is talking to Amistad. He still does not know what amistad looks like.

Amistad watched in amusement as the samurai bowed and kissed Rikan's hand. Laughing inwardly, Amistad stifled when the samurai asked, "What about you sir? Do you know of this...Amistad?" Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Amistad said, "Why do you seek this Amistad? Are you a friend or foe?"

Not waiting for an answer, Amistad bowed politely to Rikan and said simply, "We shall meet later upon the battlefields. For now, I have pressing matters to attend to. Adieu..."

With that said, Amistad wheeled on the heels of his feet and prepared to disappear into the crowds. Just before he moved off, he turned to the samurai and said, "I am Amistad Crusade..."

With that, Amistad walked away...

"Quite a collection we have this year. It seems that brief time which I had to sleep has allowed the people of this realm to gather some diversity. I remember the first tournament. When was that? Around, a hundred and twenty one years ago?"

Ranarotharack was looking down upon the combaticants from his private box, the glass was completely black on the outside, and the owner of the arena could see them all perfectly with his wonderous eyes.

It was not a question, more of a fact. Ranarotharack had a habit of speaking to the shadows of the room, it seemed to clear his mind and make him more at ease. His lng fingers played with some of his long purple hair which was impossibly straight, covering his face like a mask of mixed up threads. His eyes were visible through the curtain of hair, those mercury eyes which flowed around in thought.

"Yes. That was an awful one, too many inexperianced combaticants. But of course, with experiance we learn. We learn."

His long slender fingers continued to play with his mesh of hair.

He was musing the capabilties of each combaticant. He saw all kinds of races, and how his own creatures would fare against them in certain arenas. His was greatly looking forward to this, he had not had a tournament since he had needed to sleep. His heritage still clung to him, and he was taking longer and longer in his hibernation. Thankfully, the other side of his race made him only sleep for the short period of a few years.

"Soon. Soon I will allow them in." He said to himself, and went towards a device on the side of the wall. He rapped the contraption, and it gloed blue.

"Attention all combaticants." Ranarathaorak's voice traveled over to the warriors, his clear slivering voice was impossibly calm and made one shiver at the sound.

"The doors will open themselves to you soon. Gather your things."

His palm left the device and his voice left them. He looked back down as the people below amde preparations. He smiled, and then went downstairs, ready to tell the combaticants how this porcess would work, his purple form floating away.

---

"What are ye lookin at dwarf!" a halfling bellowed at the top of his lungs, shaking his small fist at the dwarf who stood a wall of bad-tempered muscle.

"You halfing. You even lay eyes on me again, and I will smash your teeth into your small skull!" the dwarf swore back, his fingers rapping against his greataxe, which was planted upon the floor.

The halfing and the dwarf gave each other bitter looks, the dwarf an immovable object and the halfing a nimble and energetic spitefulness.

"Attention all combaticants."

The voice stopped thier arguement as they both shot up to the source of the noise, the doors themselves.

"The doors will open themselves to you soon. Gather your things."

The two looked at each other again bitterly. The dwarf was mumbling something under his beard, and the halfing said with great malison, "I will finish this when we get in that ring! You better say your prayers to your bastard dwarven gods!"

The dwarf swore something in dwarven and did not move, as the halfing slipped into the crowd to gather his things.

"Bloody halfings...."

Kier sheathed his blades in a liquid motion, right as the announcement came through. He shifted his cloak back to cover them, and pushed back his hood as he returned to where he had left his Vanti.

His long silver hair was tied back in a braid, and his skin was dark, tanned from long days under the unyielding sun. As he reached his Vanti, he removed his veil, and reached into the saddlebags.

Removing a waterskin and a travel ration, he ate and drank in silence, then returned the skin to the bag, and replaced his veil and hood.

He scratched the Vanti a bit, under the chin, then looped the reins around a convenient branch, and took the battle hammer from its place on the saddle.

Though it was more of a mounted weapon than a weapon to be used on foot, the armor that it couldn't pierce, he had yet to meet. And, of course, the alternative was the bow, and -that- was a mounted weapon.

He checked his pouch of throwing wedges, and nodded in slight satisfaction. Kept inside that pouch, were fifteen small throwing wedges, each in its own little sectioned sheathe.

So, he had the whip-knife, the throwing wedges, the hammer, and his swords, as far as armament went.

He moved closer to the doors, and found himself a rock to sit on, and wait. Those eerie silver eyes flickered back and forth, as he studied the competition.

He didn't particularly care whether he won or lost, it was just for fun, after all.

But, then again, wasn't war just one great big sport?
If your name was Kiernan il-Karai, then the answer was yes, yes it was.

Amistad appeared in front of the gates, waiting calmly and patiently for the gates to open. With a sigh, Amistad sat down upon the ground and began to meditate. As he did so, somehow the Sword of Cala came out of its sheathe and landed upon the ground blade down in front of Amistad. After a moment, Amistad opening his eyes and slowly began to trace the constellation Draco and the shape of the dragon.

"Father, up in heaven. I honor thee with my participation. I honor myself with my will and determination. I honor these fighters with my skill. Ish Inu Alla..."

Rikan listened to the announcement given by the commanding voice blaring from the speakers.

"Alas, it is soon to begin." she commented.

Rikan picked up her pack of belongings, and out of habit, stuck her hand inside, feeling to make sure its contents were there. Her fingers brushed the small leather bag containing its hidden contents, and was soon followed by the texture of her weapon that she had yet to reveal to anyone. It was her wild card weapon so to speak.

Everything was still in her bag, nothing moved or taken. Satisfied she closed and slung the pack over her shoulder and made her way toward the great gates. Anticipation and excitement rose slowly within her, as it usually did in a situation that was calling for combat.

And combat was about to begin...

The taps of the owner echoed through the downward spiraling of the stone staircase. Ranarotharack's massive purple cloak which shimmered strangely in the light of the runes which lined these walls was draped upon the steps behind him, like a great night shadow.

He walked down, reaching the bottom of the staircase and opened the great ebony door with a simple gesture of his black hand. His hand seemed to have a metallic tint of purple to it, as though it was sprinkled with tiny purple jems. If one inspected closely, his skin seemed scaled.

He revealed himself to the empty arena, the rune encrusted stone pulsating at everyfoot step he made. It created a small ripple of light green on the stone. The arena certainly was ready. Ranarotharack walked into the center of the arena and breathed in through his small nostrals, tasting the fine air. He held his great lungs in suspence of this air. He held it for a minute without a thought, and released it. It seemed to invigerate him, filled him with excitement of the upcoming tournament. Battle was the only thing which excited him, and seeing that he was undefeated in the drow pits and upon the surface, what else could he do? He had not faced a worthy opponent, few could fight such a.....hybrid such as himself.

He closed his eyes.....and felt the armour call around himself. A great purple plate mail, which was wonderous to behold. He almost seemed like a great shade, his great jade cloak, the dragon like plate mail and his black skin. His hair was a light purple colour, which shined. The only thign which gave away his presence really were those swirling vortexes of mercury for eyes, which flowed around in thier endless spiral.

The plate mail was that like of a dragon, the armour flowing into the other, scaled and wonderfully artistic. It was superb, and the armour was extremely rare and it seemed to absorb the light in all of it's scaled glory.

And with a few moments of feeling the warm metal of his dragon armour, he faded into the shadows of the arena. The staff, who were encased completely by crimson robes walked forward, around six in all whos tood in a line, near the doors. They were about fifty paces away from the doors, all with thier arms folded. But Ranarotharack was no where to be seen.

And with that....the greta bars which had held the sealed doors shut rolled back, with an inaudible grind. They made a very low thudding noise as they went back into the place they had not been in for years. And then, the great oaken doors began to open, and everyone grew utterly silent. Those who knew what was going to occour, were smiling slightly. He walked forward slowly, and entered the huge arena. They formed a large group, all waiting in front of the staff who were simply standing there.

Silence was a suffocating blanket over the place, only the wind gave any indeication that you had not gone deaf......and so....everyone simply waitied...

(OOC I will make an introduction when most people have said that they have moved into the arena and psoted thier reactions etc.)

Those around Rikan paused and stared into the arena. Some seemed to be uncertain if they wanted to enter. She grew impatient with their googling, and began to shove past them.

"Out of my way! I'm here for a tournament, not a scenic view!" she commanded to those she moved past.

She stepped past the one who had introduced himself as Amistad, who was in a meditative state. She paid no attention to him, but rather focused on what lay in front of her.

The staff stood there, looking out at the numerous faces that stared inward, but currently watching her move into the arena.

She stepped forward, onto the scraped dirt ground that had been left behind by the heavy doors opening. Clouds of dust roiled upwards, seeming to give a finality to the tournament's existence. The pebbles crunched slightly underneath her feet as she moved farther into the collisseum.

She spoke nothing as she made her way to the right, allowing the rest to enter as well. Once in place, she looked about the arena, taking in the details of the collisseum in all its granduer. She noted the scars of battle that lay upon some of the walls, and the various oaken doors where the combatants obviously emerged from at the start of their battles.

She turned her attention back to the group, and watched the members of the staff with a sharp eye.

Vorpalis moved just behind the dwarf, her tall and slim elvish form contrasting with the short, bulky body of the dwarf. She looked at the halfling with sympathy, she was quite fond of those little creatures, always funny, kind and playful. They were like a beam of light and hope in a dark and harsh world.

"Moving along, Maese Dwarf. We all want to enter that place, and your short legs are making the way slower and difficult, she said to the small little man in front of her, as he was raising his fist to the halfling.

She smiled, even as she didn't like dwarves. They were always dusty, smelly, and were grim and bitter with non-dwarves. Although she didn't hate dwarves, because after all, it wasn't their fault to be created that way, and she was aware that mostly dwarves didn't have bad intentions.

She looked her surroundings, looking for a fit person to help her to don her armor before everything starts. He looked at a young men looking at the stars just in front of the huge door. (Amistad, beautiful name, by the way)

"May the Valar bless you, my friend", she said as a greeting Perfect, he looks naive enough. "Could you please be so kind to help me to don my armor?

Yoshi watched as the female named Rikan walked into the stadium. As the other competitors followed suit, he watched them all leave.

That's when it hit him:

"I am Amistad Crusade..."

"THAT WAS HIM! FIND HIM! MAKE US WHOLE!"

Yoshi nodded to himself and the voice in his head. He knew what he had to do, but not yet...

"Later, Yin. Under the guise of the battle we will get the information we need. We will get what we need from Amistad Crusade."

Yoshi walked into the stadium, and patiently waited for the battle to begin.

Under his mask, he smiled.

Yoshi watched as the female named Rikan walked into the stadium. As the other competitors followed suit, he watched them all leave.

That's when it hit him:

"I am Amistad Crusade..."

"THAT WAS HIM! FIND HIM! MAKE US WHOLE!"

Yoshi nodded to himself and the voice in his head. He knew what he had to do, but not yet...

"Later, Yin. Under the guise of the battle we will get the information we need. We will get what we need from Amistad Crusade."

Yoshi walked into the stadium, and patiently waited for the battle to begin.

Under his mask, he smiled.

Raven noted the massive doors opening, he watched as the others gathered up their belongings. Most of them had armor and exotic weapons. He had his worldly possessions on his person or in a small sack slung over his shoulder. His sword was finely rippled like Damascus steel but wasn't steel at all. Unknown to him it once held a demon and that was what had killed the mage.

He spied the Lizard man and walked over towards him. He tried his best to pronounce the name others had called the Lizard but it came out Tae-a-zark, he did offer the lizard man a smile and a wish of good luck. He also noted that no one stared at him in disgust.

Everyone had been sizing everyone else but with minor exceptions there was no open hatred. No one cared that his arms were noticeably longer than a normal human, no one commented on the thick covering of hair everywhere but the palms of his hands, the soles of his feet and his face. He walked into the arena mouth wide open. This place is worthy of a king he thought to himself.

He felt an odd presence in or maybe around the arena. He felt the other warriors and the staff, the life-force his mothers sister told him. He didn't know that others usually didn't feel the presence of living things, it was always there, he had no friends to discuss it with and because it was a part of him he probably would not have talked about it any way. One doesn't talk about their toenails or the skin of their knuckles do they?

The arena was magnificent with strange runes, battle scars, huge openings around the rim of the battleground. He felt like the lowlanders when they first encountered the high mountain passes of Fetid Fens. He really didn't care if the others thought him a rube, he wanted to take in all of the arena. He knew some of the others were calculating how things worked and how the doors opened and what they could hide, but this was like candy for his eyes. :wink:

Vorpalis moved just behind the dwarf, her tall and slim elvish form contrasting with the short, bulky body of the dwarf. She looked at the halfling with sympathy, she was quite fond of those little creatures, always funny, kind and playful. They were like a beam of light and hope in a dark and harsh world.

"Moving along, Maese Dwarf. We all want to enter that place, and your short legs are making the way slower and difficult, she said to the small little man in front of her, as he was raising his fist to the halfling.

She smiled, even as she didn't like dwarves. They were always dusty, smelly, and were grim and bitter with non-dwarves. Although she didn't hate dwarves, because after all, it wasn't their fault to be created that way, and she was aware that mostly dwarves didn't have bad intentions.

She looked her surroundings, looking for a fit person to help her to don her armor before everything starts. He looked at a young men looking at the stars just in front of the huge door. (Amistad, beautiful name, by the way)

"May the Valar bless you, my friend", she said as a greeting Perfect, he looks naive enough. "Could you please be so kind to help me to don my armor?

(OOC: Amistad is not looking up at the stars, he's tracing the two dragon signs with his hands... And thanks, I was watching Amistad when I came up with the name... Also, he's quite smart, he's been taught philosophy and a myriad of other subjects by his master and his mother, so do not underestimate his abilities...)

Amistad opened his eyes when he heard someone close by asking for him to help out in donning some armor. The words were like music, flowing serenly into Amistad and calming his being. Glancing to the side, he brought his piercing mournful gaze upon an elf, a woman... Curious, Amistad stood up and picked up the Sword of Cala. Carefully, Amistad sheathed the sword into its scabbard. Brushing the dust off of his tunic, Amistad walked over to the elf. Bowing respectfully at the elf, Amistad said, "Ish Innu Alah, Master Elf... Of course, I will help thee. But I am ignorant of how to assist thee in donning thy armor. Confucius once said, 'When you know a thing, to hold that you know it, and when you do not know a thing, to allow that you do not know it: this is knowledge.' If thou can direct me, I would be happy to assist thee..."

(OOC Fetid Fens, please, just a minor thing, can you use paragraphs? I helps us a lot when we are trying to read. Thanks :) )

The dwarf was barged past, and swore again. He walked slowly towards the arena to which he had been fighitng in for only three years. He was not that experianced, his combat skills were average. He saw the halfling's green suit in the corner of his eye tempt him. He did not give chase, rather to reserve his enegies for the combat ahead. He stroked his beard.

With his battle-axe upon his back, he walked towards the center of the arena to be reminded of the rules, and what the owner expected. He knew what style the being had.....he knew power when he saw it.

The halfing on the other hand derived the owner as being a simple merchant or the like with some powerful armulets to impress. He had not seen the owner fight a conflict, in all the five years he had attended. The purple owner simply kept to his private box, and apart from his breifing and finishing speech, no-one saw him. This raised doubts within the small halfing's mind about the true nature of this owner....he was determined to see that this charletan revealed.

"Aye Forgil, there indeed will be much honor here today. It has been too long since we fought in these places, I was begining to think that my claymore would not drink in glory again!"

The half-orcs voice was proud and strong hearted, although low. He was speaking to a considerably smaller dwarf, who had the most fiery beard imaginable. it seemed like an autumn tree's leaves, all ablaze in thier yearly display of nature's power. He stroked the fine nestle of hair, which had been grown for many a decade.

The dwarf nodded and laughed, his chainmail jingling under his blue garments.

"Aye laddie! That indeed. My hammer needs to crush another skull or te!"

The half-orc replied humourously, "Or a knee-cap eh?"

The dwarf raised an eye brow, and a silence went between the two for a second. Neither smiled for a moment.

Then they both roared into laughter, and started thier way into the arena.

They were a remarkable team, both races utter enemies of the other....yet here was a half-orc and a dwarf, laughing and talking together....and willing to fight togther under peace times! The hlaf-orc, plated in darkened plate mail and sparkling claymore, and the dwarf with his chain mail and mighty hammer which was sulng around his back. They made a deadly team....

They walked into the arena...

Shadow reigned in Aria, his horse, and looked up. He knew he was late now, as thousands of small figures entered the arena. He cursed his misfortune, and spurred Aria on, breaking into a gallop as he hurtled towards the competition.

Tying Aria to a nearby post, Shadow hurried inside, not wanting to miss the instructions. Being new to this sort of thing, he wanted to be as well-informed as possible. He shifted under the uncomfortable weight of his equipment as he waited for the host to begin speaking.

Rikan overheard the half-orc and the dwarf's conversation and chuckled. Such an odd pair. She had heard stories of how both races were rather violent to each other, and yet here stood an example otherwise. It just goes to show that anything was possible.

A faint cry of a bird was heard overhead. Rikan looked up and watched the six creatures with interest.

Vultures...

Could it be an omen of what was to come? She looked about at the crowd again, looking at each face. Who would leave painfully? Who would leave dead?

Who would become the meal of vultures?

Rikan turned her attention to the vultures once more. Two separated from their flight and coasted downwards to the rooftops of the collisseum where they perched precariously and solemnly watched the fighters below. Their terrible eyes followed the movements, trying to pick out their prey. Naturally, they looked more often at the smaller, frailer looking fighters...

Vorpalis smiled to Amistad as she dropped her backpack to the ground and opened it, pulling out the long set of mithril chainmail, the exquisite design of the piece of armor gleaming with the light as she showed it to Amistad. "Look, first I need you to help me to slide this over my head, then all over my body, to my wrist. Can you help me with that?", she said as she gave the mithril chainmail to Amistad and placed her hands over her head.

The signal to move into the arena was finally called.

"Well, ill look for you on the battlefield, T'zark. Ill see you later." Laine turned away from the reptile and shuffled with the rest of the crowd to the entrance of the arena. She passed all sorts of peoples on the way in. She finally walked over the threshold and entered the massive arena.....

Kiernan slid lithely through the crowd. He was bigger than some, with his six feet and four inches, but he wasn't unbelievably large. He hung the battle hammer from his belt, opposite where his blades hung, and moved with the crowd.

Time was ticking away, and Kiernan, having a natural hatred of crowds, and a natural aversion to enclosed spaces, began to get restless. He calmed himself by tensing and untensing muscles, it was un-noticable, but the effect was slightly calming.

Time passed, and he was into breathing exercises, and finally, outright meditation. Finally, he slid his right hand into the gauntlet of leather and metal strips, held upright, on a hook, right hip.

The gauntlet was dyed scarlet, and was his non-lethal weapon of choice. The trick was, it had a lead weight in the palm, that could be ejected into the hand. This weight was anchored to the glove by twenty feet of extremely strong wire, practically unbreakable.

Anyways, he amused himself, with the gauntlet, until finally, the crowd parted, and he stepped through the doors himself, and found himself inside the building.

And so it began...

OOC: I trust that you are going to espouse on how the battles will happen, right Kain?

And, Amistad, we're gonna fight sooner or later :twisted:

Vorpalis smiled to Amistad as she dropped her backpack to the ground and opened it, pulling out the long set of mithril chain mail, the exquisite design of the piece of armor gleaming with the light as she showed it to Amistad. "Look, first I need you to help me to slide this over my head, then all over my body, to my wrist. Can you help me with that?", she said as she gave the mithril chain mail to Amistad and placed her hands over her head.

Returning to his normal speech, Amistad nodded and said, “Of course. Hold on.” Carefully, making sure as not to touch Vorpalis except where necessary (OOC: I read the stuff about her snapping people’s wrists…), Amistad slowly slid the mithril chain mail over the elf’s head. He then carefully, pulled the chain mail over the entire body.

“There, that’s done, what’s next?”

(OOC Yes, I will organise this all, and it will all be explained. I can continue as soon as everyone is ready and inside the arena. Do not worry, everything will be explained, you will not have to worry about a thing. Just please, one thign I ask, is that you know what power level your cahracter is, low, medium or high. Those of different power levels cannot fight each other, due to fairness, unless in a arena match (Free For All) or special combats set. You will be spilt into catagories soon, and it is not a knockout tournament or the like, points are collected. But this will be explained as soon as everyone is in the arena (refering to Aelosia here, please take your time).)

Vorpalis smiled to Amistad, noting that he was really a very innocent and nice person. "Now help me with those plates over my shoulders, my tights, and my arms. Then I'll place this breastplate over my chest and you'll help me to secure it with that straps over my back. And thank you, I owe you one", said the elf, vary happy to see that she had found the perfect person.

OOC: I'm modern tech, so for RP purposes, this is something from the history books.

IC: A large man, heavily armored, ran up to the coliseum. He was only passing through, so he didn't know about the arena until he heard the cheering returning to the Inn from a meal. His serrated, wickedly curved longsword that was sheathed on his back bounced as he sprinted to the oaken doors.

OOC: I'm modern tech, so for RP purposes, this is something from the history books.

IC: A large man, heavily armored, ran up to the coliseum. He was only passing through, so he didn't know about the arena until he heard the cheering returning to the Inn from a meal. His serrated, wickedly curved longsword that was sheathed on his back bounced as he sprinted to the oaken doors.

ooc: On behalf of Redeemed Heroes, I'm going to have to say that you need to go to the recruitment thread and sign up for this tournament. You cannot just waltz in. Go to page one of this thread, and read the bottom of the first post. It will give you the link to the other thread. Good day.

OOC: I'm modern tech, so for RP purposes, this is something from the history books.

IC: A large man, heavily armored, ran up to the coliseum. He was only passing through, so he didn't know about the arena until he heard the cheering returning to the Inn from a meal. His serrated, wickedly curved longsword that was sheathed on his back bounced as he sprinted to the oaken doors.

ooc: On behalf of Redeemed Heroes, I'm going to have to say that you need to go to the recruitment thread and sign up for this tournament. You cannot just waltz in. Go to page one of this thread, and read the bottom of the first post. It will give you the link to the other thread. Good day.

What he said.

Vorpalis smiled to Amistad, noting that he was really a very innocent and nice person. "Now help me with those plates over my shoulders, my tights, and my arms. Then I'll place this breastplate over my chest and you'll help me to secure it with that straps over my back. And thank you, I owe you one", said the elf, vary happy to see that she had found the perfect person.

Amistad carefully pulled the straps back and with careful and strong movements tied the straps together. First the breastplate and then the rest of the armor were secured to Vorpalis.

Amistad stood and looked guardedly at the armored elf. Noting the great beauty of the armor, Amistad whistled in appreciation.

"That's really nice mithril... I haven't seen something that good for a very long time..." Amistad said, "By the way, do you have anything else that I could help with?"

Moving in quick, short bursts, T'zark worked his way through the crowd and into the arena. His scaly feet made very little sound on the hard floor.

TAG --------- Even if I'm not accepted, I want to see how would this evolve... It's a great idea for people who wants to get themself know

"Well, thanks a lot, it's a relic, a very ancient armor, handed to me thanks to my efforts in several wars along the Doriathrim and Aelosian history. I fought against the Morgoth's hordes in the War of Wrath, and against Sauron in the siege of Mordor in the War of the Last Alliance, and after that finally the good old Elrond gave this to me, along with my sword. He said that they were forged in the ancient city of Gondolin, before the Shadow fell over the Elvenkind" said Vorpalis smiling to the young man.

"But that was thousands of years ago, and I'm more worried about what's happening now. And don't worry, Sire Amistad, I don't need any more help, except with keeping some company, of course, as watching a combat alone with noone to talk about it is boring. Can I stick along with you?", said the elf smiling broadly to the humble and nice swordman.

Shadow scanned the crowd for people not unlike himself - unexperienced, new to this kind of thing. Though he saw many people of may races who seemed not to know exactly what they were doing, he saw no-one he could possibly best in a straight fight. It was while he was looking around that he saw several rapid movements in the crowd; a lizard-like being was darting through gaps in the ever-shifting mass of people. Angling towards where Shadow thought the lizard man was headed, he went to try and meet him.

Shadow made it to a small clearing in the crowd just before seeing T'zark disappear into a wall of people, headed who-knows-where. Ah well, Shadow sighed to himself, he may as well follow now. Nothing else to do...

Shadow continued his chase of the lizard being until eventually it stopped, waiting for a gap to appear in the crowd. Shado shoved his way past several people, toppling a still-arguing dwarf/halfling combination, who careered into a half-orc, who in turn looked down and gave them both menacing looks.

Shadow called out, trying to attract the attention of the lizard, but it moved on, a gap suddenly appearing in the mass of prospective gladiators. Shoving through, Shadow followed, determined to speak with the lizard man.

"Well, thanks a lot, it's a relic, a very ancient armor, handed to me thanks to my efforts in several wars along the Doriathrim and Aelosian history. I fought against the Morgoth's hordes in the War of Wrath, and against Sauron in the siege of Mordor in the War of the Last Alliance, and after that finally the good old Elrond gave this to me, along with my sword. He said that they were forged in the ancient city of Gondolin, before the Shadow fell over the Elvenkind" said Vorpalis smiling to the young man.

"But that was thousands of years ago, and I'm more worried about what's happening now. And don't worry, Sire Amistad, I don't need any more help, except with keeping some company, of course, as watching a combat alone with noone to talk about it is boring. Can I stick along with you?", said the elf smiling broadly to the humble and nice swordman.

"Interesting. You must be quite old, probably as old as my departed master... My master once had some mithril forged by the fires of the dragons in eons past, but nothing as fine as this..." Amistad said, in thought. His mood suddenly turned sour, as his thoughts turned once more to his disappeared master. Attempting to cover up his discomfiture, Amistad bowed and said, "After you, madam?"

"I'm old yes, but that's not a good thing to say to a Lady, more even if it's a single lady", said Vorpalis smiling to Amistad as she grabbed his hand and conduced him to the inside of the Arena.

"I know that the thoughts are not pleasant to you, and the memories seems to hurt you, but. May I ask who were your Master?", she asked, looking again into Amistad's eyes with her own blue and elongated ones.

When Vorpalis talked about her martial status, Amistad turned red, deeply embarrassed. And when, Vorpalis proceeded to drag him along, Amistad sighed and in a low barely audible whisper said, "My master was Omnus Stormrider, the last of the Dragonlords and the most powerful one of them... He disappeared about a year ago from his mountain retreat in the east and has never appeared ever since. Legends say that he was forged by the twisted magic of his predecessor, fusing a newborn human with a dying dragon..."

For a second, Amistad's eyes connected with those of Vorpalis's. Amistad quietly noted to himself the beauty of her eyes. Remembering his manners, Amistad quickly dropped his mournful gaze and stared at his feet, a little embarrassed at his behavior.

The arena was now near full, and the arena was now full. A low wind whipped accross the rune covered stones as a purple figure slowly walked towards the crowd, his form completely covered in a shroud. It was if the eye could not penetrate a haze around the figure.

He was stepping forwards, those with sensative ears could hear the very light clicking of the plate mail around his feet. He was a tall indivudal, it gave the impression that the figure was an elf. He certainly walked like one, his posture was tall and proud, his strides long and in a refined way. As he grew near, the person's features could be diserned.

He was indeed a elf. But his face was covered by a sloping curved helmt, completely covering his face. It did not have any hole to show any eyes or visible sign that someone was looking outwards.But the figure certainly was looking at each and every one here today, the only thing upon the smooth surface of the dragon helm was a very dark red cystal, which glowed very softly.

Ranarathaorak could see them all. The cystal offered him vision without giving himself away, his face totally protected by this dragon helm. He looked like some futuristic pilot of some sort.

He approached the line of combaticants gathered here, and everyone fell silent to the presance of the individual. He seemed to hold a huge amount of power, his items radiated the suffocating stench of magic, the dragon like armour was flambouant and deep purple. He held no weapon.

The figure allowed his presance to be fully appreciated, his form in front of the satff who did not show thier faces. Many long seconds passed, this dark purple knight did not move or give any indication that he was alive.


A voice rumbled within his voice, a deep one, which was refined and sophisticated, yet held a very subtle barb to every word.

"Combaticants. I greet you to my arena. My name, is Ranarathaorak-til-Relnitharathicalith-Zieth-ka-Turiel. But, you, may call me Ranarath, or as I have come known over the decades fighting in the gladiator pits of the Drow, "Purple Wave"."

He let his words sink in, the armoured knight letting his words sink in once more. And then, with mailed hands, he took off his mighty helmet, tapping it to remove it.

It came off easily, to reveal the owner's face. And such a thing was remarkable. It was obviously elven.....a black skin to it only pointed to one possible heritage.

He was a drow. But not quite. His flesh was indeed black, he had the elven eyes and ears...yet he had something different flowing within his blood. His face held intense wisdom, as if he held supiority over the every single one here. When one looked closer, it was apparent that there were very small minute scales all over his flesh.

His eyes were the orbs of mercury which flowed within itself, a great pouring of thoughts into a empty cup. It was like watching the creation of the universe within his eyes....

"Many of you have been here before. Many....have not. So to those who know this infomation, remind yourself of these rules. The combats will ta-"

Someone broke in. An unprecidented action. An outburst of swearing and oaths came from the back of the line. The owner of the gladitoral arena shot his glance over to where the dwarven voice was coming from.

And lo, there came forth, a barging dwarf, but an unusal one. He was fully equip with plate mail but a samurai he was. He had his arm upon his scabbard, upon his katana, his face grim and determined. He came through and revealed himself to the owner, who's eyes were beging to crash into themselves with increasing rapidity.

The dwarf spoke in his native toungue, a vile curse and oath to the dwarven Gods, which all the dwarfs in this place understood the meaning and severity of such a oath. The others could sense that this dwarf was certainly not pleased.

The dwarven langauge to an untrained ear, sounds like rocks grinding at the bottom of a barrel. It is the only way to describe the deep vocal sounds of the dwarf words.

The owner, completely unfettered by this dwarf, laughed in derision. It was a mocking, cruel laugh. The dwarf grew more enraged, and spoke in Common, for all to hear.

"This being slayed my entire family and clan. For this, I have sworn for the last fifty years to find this bastard and kill him. To this, I will die trying. Face steel."

The swarf drew his katana. Indeed, it was an impressive katana. It's surface was covered with the dwarven runes of power. It shimmered slightly in the air.

http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/cw_ag/75398.jpg

The drow did nothing but raise an eyebrow at this statement, the two silent.

The staff did nothing but watch, secure.

"We shall fight if you so wish to die. But in my arena. To your death. Tomorrow at dawn. Make your peace with your God."

The statement seemed to statisfy the dwarf's baleful glare, and he faded away.

The drow, completely unfettered by this, continued on with his introduction, with a slightly amused tone.

"Well, those who wish to see an execution, come to the arena at dawn to view this. But where were we before this frightfully rude interuption. Ah yes.....how this little competion of mine will work. There will be four types of competition. Combat. Magic. Team and Special. Special cannot be entered, it is declared at certain points. You will get to grips with things soon enough. Simply enter yourself into the correct feild of expertise, magic or combat, the rest shall be dealt with."

The drow gestured to someone in the crowd, his mightly shimmering Cloak seemign to move before he put his arm in it's way.

"Yes, I understand that concern Mireth. None shall die pernamently. Well, apart from that dwarf who so foolishly challenged me to a death match. You shall all be issued....these."

He reached within his touser pocket, and pulled out a pendant, with a coppet chain on. It had a white stone, with a small green jem within it.

"Death, cannot be achieved. Pain, on the other hand, can. Make no mistake. If you get decapitiated, you will still feel that pain, and there will be that same elation of combat. There will be danger. Should you fall in combat, your body will soon fade from the arena, and you will be returned to a chamber where the losers are kept for a short time. Of course, do not make the stupid assumption that you will be fresh for another fight as soon as you are "respawned". Far from it. You will be hurt. You will be tierd. And you certainly, will be feeling it in the morning. Are there any questions? I still have my own, but want to give you a chance to ask me some questions."

(OOC This is a low quality post in consideration, but I am really pushed for time right now. Sorry.)

"Omnus Stormrider, I have heard of him. I think that he once fought alongside one of my fellows, but that was a lot of time ago", she said as she left Amistad's hand. "But well, no need for be ashamed, you're a very nice guy and I'm trying to be tender with you, that's all".

After the little incident with th owner of the arena, Vorpalis nodded to Amistad a little. "Wait a minute, I really need to talk with that dwarf"

Laine Gazed around at the magnificent arena. It was truly ancient. She snapped to attention as the owner strode out into view. From the angle she was standing at, she couldnt quite tell what the owner was, but with the name Ranarathaorak-til-Relnitharathicalith-Zieth-ka-Turiel, he was bound to be elvish.

She was suprised that he was not elvish but, in fact, drow. She had never actually met a drow before, but thier abilities were legandary. Laine realized that this fellow was almost certianly much more powerful than he looked. She turned as she heard a gravelly voice a few feet next to her.

"This being slayed my entire family and clan......" Laine frowned as she heard these words. The frown grew deeper as she heard the that the dwarf wanted a challange. His sword, an unusual weapon for a dwarf, was no doubt mighty, but if her estimite of the owner was correct, the dwarf would be obliterated in seconds.

She stooped down next to the dwarf and said, "Bide your time. Not yet." Before she could continue any further the dwarf angrily stomped away.

Laine sighed deeply, then fixed her attention on the owner again. She was intruged by the process of "respawning." Of course, she didnt feel the need to test it out.

Before the owner's speech:

(...)
Shadow called out, trying to attract the attention of the lizard, but it moved on, a gap suddenly appearing in the mass of prospective gladiators. Shoving through, Shadow followed, determined to speak with the lizard man.
Finally, once he had reached the arena and the crowd was thinning, T'zark noticed Shadow. He turned and watched curiously as the man approached, not sure if he was the target.

"Omnus Stormrider, I have heard of him. I think that he once fought alongside one of my fellows, but that was a lot of time ago", she said as she left Amistad's hand. "But well, no need for be ashamed, you're a very nice guy and I'm trying to be tender with you, that's all".

After the little incident with th owner of the arena, Vorpalis nodded to Amistad a little. "Wait a minute, I really need to talk with that dwarf"

"I too will speak with this dwarf and help him if his cause warrants assistance," Amistad said after a moments consideration. Slowly he followed Vorpalis as she walked towards the dwarf.

Raven watched as the purple clad figure walked to the center of the arena. This was the presence he had felt earlier. As he studied the imposing figure he tried to reconcile the difference between how he sensed the elf and where he saw the elf.

The elf removed his helm and the crowd began to murmur "Drow". He felt the dwarf moving through the crowd, there was no divergence of senses here. The dwarf began to speak, what an ugly sound.

Raven listened to the exchange between the two and then the further instructions. Well, combat was his only option. There were very few here with his lower level of skill -- but, you never get better fighting people weaker than you.

He thought about he pendant being offered and added it to his growing collection of amulets, pendants, charms and lockets he wore around his neck. Most of these were acquired from the dead mage. Someday he would find someone to interpret these bits of jewlery.

Raven was happy they didn't hand out written rules. He always had trouble with reading. The little bit of formal schooling had ended when the human children made fun of his reading. Even then humans had underestimated his reach and his strength.

He certainly wasn't going to ask any questions in front of this assembly. He would watch and wait. The study of other creatures, their habits, their weaknesses and their abilities came easy to the Yeti side of him.

"Do we get to keep these pendants?" A gnome asked curiously, his bright green robes covering his small body. He had specacles and a warm face to him, one which was pale yet with a freindlyness to it.

The drow smiled a little, and simply replied, "No. These belong to the arena, and will be used in future tournaments. If I gave these things out, I would be a very, very poor being."

A few chuckles from the crowd.

"Any more questions? Ask now, for I want you to be clear on these rules. Although the staff here will direct you through the rules for each tournament type, there may be other questions which you may wish to ask."

A few seconds passed and a barbarian warrior, three poles upon his back which was within a quiver sort of compartment spoke up. His voice was deep and serious.

"I heard that there will be a crowd. When will they arrive."

"Tomorrow. That is when the first contest shall begin. They shall arrive from all over the world, many for different reasons. They had to pay good money to see these battles, so I hope, you will not disappoint. There will be the usual freindly contests between my staff during the week. Are there any further questions?

Rikan had remained silent the entire time, listening carefully to every word spoken by the purple-clad host. When asked if they had any more questions, Rikan spoke just loudly enough to be heard,

"What are the prizes for winning the tournament?"

Several agreeing voices could be heard as she asked the question. It was natural for everyone to begin thinking of winning. Such a mind frame set the stage for the amount of effort and persistence they would hold in the tournament. They set a goal, and this caused them to be more focused. And often, they performed much better than without an incentive.

Amistad stopped when he heard Rikan say, "What are the prizes for winning the tournament?"

Quietly under his breath, Amistad said to himself, "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

Raising his voice for it to be audible, Amistad said simply, "Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing."

"WORK HARD AT WORK WORTH DOING? FOOLISH PRATTLE! FIND US THE SWORD! FIND US!! US!!!"

Yoshi nodded to himself, but did not speak aloud.

Tomorrow. That will be when he goes to work...

Vorpalis walked inside the crowd until she reached the dwarf with the katana and the delicate armor. "Wait!", she said as the dwarf turned prepared for leaving. "I need to know something. Is that true?, that person slew your family?. In that case, Can you please tell me the story?"

Raven is studying the other combatants:

Rikan Tansho from Tarlachia; a beautiful woman, she is proud of the dual arm blades, but will she concentrate too long on using them when something else will work better?

Magnus a mage from Redeemed Heroes; Raven doesn't like mages, hopes they stay apart. The contests seem to be combat or magic but someone mentioned a free-for-all. Raven hopes this doesn't happen often.

T'zark T'kahndir a lizard man from Dar-Kavryn; Raven is sure a lot of people will underestimate this one. As he watched T'zark zip through the crowds he was impressed by the speed and the ability to dart almost perpendicular to his path without changing speed nor with little effort. The body scales look to be very strong. Formidable indeed!

Laine Cudan of Ravea; very strange armor almost tree like, would his sword get stuck in it as if he struck a tree?

Kiernan il-Karai a Fhellant'im warrior from Revenia; many weapons, one for every possible enemy. Another one far outclassing Raven. Raven decides to stay away from this one or try to team with him.

Amistad from Swordmasters of Ginaz; his sword is amazing it has something of a life force like a human. Seems to be taken with the elf Vorpalis from Aelosia. Will he be worried about her and forget his own well being? Will she do like wise? The armor on the elf is in itself interesting when she put it on it seemed to focus her life force. Again very experienced, they will team, they will be very difficult to beat as a team.

Januth Yoshi from Valient; CRAZY screams from this one. Even his life force is scattered. He too has a sword with an Identity

The Half-orc, dwarf, and hafling trio - unlikely team - one weakness; they each seemed to be preoccupied with one-upping the other, may be able to exploit that.

As more combatants walk around Raven studies them for subtleties he can exploit like a poker player looking for "Makes".

Finally, once he had reached the arena and the crowd was thinning, T'zark noticed Shadow. He turned and watched curiously as the man approached, not sure if he was the target.

After a few moments, Shadow had finally caught up with T'zark. Gasping for breath between words, he introduced himself.

"I...am Shadow...a rider of...Shadostan...I was wondering...why and how...you came to be here, sir. And also..." Shadow stood up straight and looked the lizard man over. "...Are you... Are you from Dar-Kavryn, by any chance? I don't mean to pry, but if you are, I've read much about your race, and would be honoured to make the acquaintance of your honoured self. Actually, making your acquaintance would be an honour whether you are or not," Shado corrected himself, looking thoughtful, "as it seems this place is a haven for strong fighters, and thus the more friends we make, the more chance we have of doing well, no?"

Before T'zark could answer, the host began speaking, but after he had finished and the dwarf had stalked away, Shadow turned once more to T'zark, seming to still be waiting for an answer to his questions.

Vorpalis walked inside the crowd until she reached the dwarf with the katana and the delicate armor. "Wait!", she said as the dwarf turned prepared for leaving. "I need to know something. Is that true?, that person slew your family?. In that case, Can you please tell me the story?"

Amistad came up behind Vorpalis and stood quietly behind Vorpalis, waiting for the dwarf to answer her question. Meanwhile, the sun glinted off his dangerous Sword of Cala.

(OOC Doing one part at a time)

Vorpalis walked inside the crowd until she reached the dwarf with the katana and the delicate armor. "Wait!", she said as the dwarf turned prepared for leaving. "I need to know something. Is that true?, that person slew your family?. In that case, Can you please tell me the story?"

The dwarf removed his helmet slowly, his beard flowing out from where it was contained within ths shining metal. His face seemed heavy with worry and stress, but it was resolute in it's intention. His deep brown eyes stared at the sun which was setting. The sky was a warm orange, a firestorm exploding in the sky, the clouds streaks of smoke.

"Aye. It is correct what I said. That creature killed all of my kinsmen. My family. But that story...."

The dwarf sighed, his plate mail shuddering in the overlapping steel.

"I will speak of that some other time. I will speak to you soon, I have my own preparations. I will be in the warrior chambers at dawn should you want to hear the tale of this creature's tyranny. But make no mistake...that creature....will pay!"

The dwarf's jaw clenched at the thought. It was obvious that he wanted some time alone....death could be tomorrow for him.

Amistad frowned when he heard the dwarf "answer" Vorpalis's questions. Slightly peeved, Amistad made to step forth and force the dwarf to answer the questions, when he saw the set jaw. Realizing that the dwarf needed time alone, Amistad attempted to steer Vorpalis away...

Rikan had remained silent the entire time, listening carefully to every word spoken by the purple-clad host. When asked if they had any more questions, Rikan spoke just loudly enough to be heard,

"What are the prizes for winning the tournament?"



The purple knight was about to speak in responce, his slightly serpant toungue forming the words which would his from his black lips. But thoughts floated into his mind.

He restrained from replying, hearing the thoughts of another...then hearing them again, made more crude by thier transformation into common. The answer was rather good.

Amistad said simply, "Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing."

The drow turned his attention before the words had been formed, his great purple shimmering cloak seeming like a great living curtain which moved before it was forced to. It seemed as though it was scaled...

"That is correct. But, for many here, honor is not enough. What will you win? How far are you willing to go? You cna simply fight, win what you have to, then leave. Others, might want to step up and enter more challenging aspects of my tournament. Simply put, the more you put up to risk, the more you can gain. But....the more you risk in many cases...." He smiled.

"All will be explained in due time when you seperate into your own areas." The calm supiour hissing from the drow seemed to intrege many fo the warriors.

Blademaster Swiftblade arrived at the areana shortly after the gates opened. He moved with a calm, deliberate step, which spoke more about his skill than any word or fable could have. The weapon across his back glimmered faintly in the bright sunlight, perhaps it was enchanted... or perhaps it was a trick of the sun, few could be sure.

The Dark Argonian warrior slowly made his way through the crowds, casting an aura of respectability hinted with controlled rage. The effect was the splitting of the crowd like the Red Sea, as eyes turned upon him as he passed. The armor on his scaly body added to the image his aura projected, sporting spiked shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets, and greaves. The hue of his defensive garments was a shade darker than his own scaly hide, leading a few of the duller-witted contestants to believe that it was indeed his true skin.

He ignored the foolish questions, Shadowscale was not once to mince words, or even to speak them. Rare was the occasion he spoke more than two in a sentence. Then icy blue of his gaze seemed to tear the soul from any it touched, if proper chi was focused into the act of intimidation. Swiftblade was not a boastful being, or one who needed to gratify himself with random acts of violence or intimidation. His glare remaind assertive, as did his overall manner. Swiftblade entered the arena without hesitation, so as to observe his newest field of honorable combat...

"All will be explained in due time when you seperate into your own areas."

Yoshi frowned.

"So what does he mean? Do we seperate into what?

For once, the voice inside his head was silent.

"[B[When you seperate into your selected groups. There will be two enterances to begin with, Combat and Magic. Team combats will commence later on, when teams have been made, either by request or...if you have no partner, chosen for you randomly. If there are any further questions, we shall move on to get this tournament set up.[/B]"

Rikan caught the movement out of the side of her eyes and turned her head. Walking amongst the contenders present was one character that caught her interest. He walked with a calm and sure pace, the same kind of pace one with experience of many battles would use.

An Argonian...I have heard many stories of their skill in combat. Finally, I can meet one face to face...

Rikan turned and walked toward the creature, keeping a careful air about her, watching his every move. A normal reaction, especially for one who hunted vampires, such as herself. Approaching the Argonian she called out:

"Argonian, halt so I may speak to you."

She stopped following him, but kept her eyes upon him. Would he react favorably? She did not know, but hoped he would.

Rikan caught the movement out of the side of her eyes and turned her head. Walking amongst the contenders present was one character that caught her interest. She walked with a calm and sure pace, the same kind of pace one with experience of many battles would use.

An Argonian...I have heard many stories of their skill in combat. Finally, I can meet one face to face...

Rikan turned and walked toward the creature, keeping a careful air about her, watching his every move. A normal reaction, especially for one who hunted vampires, such as herself. Approaching the Argonian she called out:

"Argonian, halt so I may speak to you."

She stopped following him, but kept her eyes upon him. Would he react favorably? She did not know, but hoped he would.

OOC: I'm a little lost, so I gonna write this and you tell me if it's wrong or not (I mean, in the space-time relation)

IC:

Outside the main doors of the arena, in a dark corner, something weird have begun. The reality begins to shift and changes, like if some kind of hand were tearing appart the space-time. Five minutes later, a horrible creature made of the pure corrupted void appears from what looks to be a "wound in the dimension", a Bleeding portal made in the wall. The monster steps from the weird, blood-striping gate, looks to right and left, like If It were looking for something. Finding nothing, he turns to the portal again, and using its telepathy, It say to the other presence that were just behind him:

"All It's clear, Master Saiga. Youn can come out"
http://l5rinfo.com/images/cards/DE/written_in_blood.jpg

The reality shift again, and form the portal emerges a man, dressesd completly in dark-green robes, a snake shaped collar made completly of jade hanging in his neck. He faces was beautiful and powerful, the mark of nobility in his factions. But in the depths of his red eyes you could see the madness and malebolence that were, indeed, his true nature. He walked out of the portal gracefully, like a crane walking in the lake. He looks around, his mouth bearing a amused smile, as is everything was just a new game for him. He turns to the demon at his side, a Great Elemental Terror, dread creature made of corrupted Void Kami, and look it around like if it was a simple dog.

"Thanks for the ride, Akeru no Oni. Tell the Great Iuichiban-sama that I send my regards, and That he does have nothing to worry about, all will be as it is planned"

The Oni looked him with hatred in his eyes, bow respectful ans retreats into the Portal, dissapearing into the darkness...

"Now" saids the Tsukai, "Where in the name of blood should I go to submit my request?"

He beguns to walk trying to find the main gates of the huge Colisseum. Eventually, he founds a door completely open, as if It have been waiting for him for a long time. Smiling, he enters, waiting to find someone who can tell him where he have to go... then, as if it was a message from the gods.. he heard the voice of the Tournamet Anfitrion, talking powerfuly through the Loudspeaker:

"When you seperate into your selected groups. There will be two enterances to begin with, Combat and Magic. Team combats will commence later on, when teams have been made, either by request or...if you have no partner, chosen for you randomly. If there are any further questions, we shall move on to get this tournament set up."

"So..." Thinks the Tsukai, smiling softly, "Thank you, my friend. And I though there were noone useful here..."

He begun to walk to his place on the arena, waiting to see who will be the first to be corrupted by the power of maho, who will be the first to fall on the Dark Lord embrace...

Rikan caught the movement out of the side of her eyes and turned her head. Walking amongst the contenders present was one character that caught her interest. He walked with a calm and sure pace, the same kind of pace one with experience of many battles would use.

An Argonian...I have heard many stories of their skill in combat. Finally, I can meet one face to face...

Rikan turned and walked toward the creature, keeping a careful air about her, watching his every move. A normal reaction, especially for one who hunted vampires, such as herself. Approaching the Argonian she called out:

"Argonian, halt so I may speak to you."

She stopped following him, but kept her eyes upon him. Would he react favorably? She did not know, but hoped he would.

Swiftblade halted, turning with the speed of a arthritic giant to face this newcomer. He nodded in greeting, his blue eyes betraying a hint of annoyance. As a rule, softskins annoyed him, but this one seemed different somehow. Her manner & gait was similar to his most recent opponent, Whiptail Longtail, a stride with confidence in her ability as Whiptail had had as they met outside of his hut for that fateful duel...

"I'll leave you alone, then. And May the Valar help in your quest if you hold your honor and your principles, and May Those Who Dwell in Valinor help you to fulfill your destiny and avenge your family", said Vorpalis staring the dwraf's eyes for a moment until she left the place, making signals to Amistad to follow her.

The Argonian moved with a surprising fluidity and quickness, immediately focusing upon Rikan. Rikan did not move, nor divert her gaze at him. She was infamous back home for her notorious knack for keeping a strong stare at anyone she faced. Many times, they would turn away from her, if just gain temporary relief from her.

Rikan bowed respectfully and spoke calmly and not too loudly. However, she knew the Argonian would hear every word.

"My name is Rikan Tansho, of Tarlachia. I have heard many things of your kind's expertise in battle. Considering how this tournament will consist of a series of battles, I would be honored if you would accept my proposal to become my teammate. I have had extensive experience battling many kinds of creatures, and hunt vampires on a regular basis. Not just any vampire, mind you, but rather the experienced ones and Elders. My skill is sure, my cooperation is as well. Do you accept?"

Rikan stopped speaking, and kept her eyes upon the Argonian. Perhaps the most surprising thing was that she was human, and even then, still survived against such creatures such as Elder vampires.

"I'll leave you alone, then. And May the Valar help in your quest if you hold your honor and your principles, and May Those Who Dwell in Valinor help you to fulfill your destiny and avenge your family", said Vorpalis staring the dwraf's eyes for a moment until she left the place, making signals to Amistad to follow her.

Nodding his head, Amistad turned and followed Vorpalis, whilst keeping his eye on the other fighters, wary. There's quite a crowd gathering... I better be careful... Don't know what shit these idiots will try to pull...

OOC: Is there any other wizard here?... Because I don't see any other sorcerer than me... :(

OOC: Is there any other wizard here?... Because I don't see any other sorcerer than me... :(

My charectar was some white shield magic and lightning spells, but not anything really advanced. Redeemed Heroes as a mage named Magnus. I think thats the only other mage. A bunch of other people have spells, but not very many wizards here.

After a few moments, Shadow had finally caught up with T'zark. Gasping for breath between words, he introduced himself.

"I...am Shadow...a rider of...Shadostan...I was wondering...why and how...you came to be here, sir. And also..." Shadow stood up straight and looked the lizard man over. "...Are you... Are you from Dar-Kavryn, by any chance? I don't mean to pry, but if you are, I've read much about your race, and would be honoured to make the acquaintance of your honoured self. Actually, making your acquaintance would be an honour whether you are or not," Shado corrected himself, looking thoughtful, "as it seems this place is a haven for strong fighters, and thus the more friends we make, the more chance we have of doing well, no?"

Before T'zark could answer, the host began speaking, but after he had finished and the dwarf had stalked away, Shadow turned once more to T'zark, seming to still be waiting for an answer to his questions.
"I am indeed from Dar-Kavryn." Tzark replied, nodding. "You musst be very well read... it iss not often I come acrosss ssomeone who hass even heard of my people, and you recognizze uss by ssight! Alwayss, I am glad to make a friend, but it iss a deep honour to meet a sscholar.
Ass to how I came to thiss placce, I have been curiouss about the surfacce for sseveral yearss. Thiss seemed like a chancce to improve my sskillss without rissking my life, sso I thought it would be usseful to join in. What coursse led you here, if I may assk?"

OOC: I'm not going to be able to post for a while... sorry. :(

(OOC My dearest apoligies everyone, I thank you for being so patient. My post quality has been low (at least in comparison to what I could be doing) and that will improve. Also, I have not been updating often enough, and I thank you for bearing with me/ My time has just gorwn a lot more, and I can put more efforts into this.

As to the wizard problem, do not worry. You can fight and interact with my NPCs, and of course, you can interact with those who are in the combat competions. Don't fret, once the tournament is in full swing, I suggest that you enter yourself for the team battles (specials) with another fighter. Or, enter yourself in the FFA (free for all) matches, where everyone is working together against my monsters, or going it out against everyone on the field!

Give me some time when I am about to post, because I like to make my posts as good as possible, and I am in other threads where I want to post the best stuff I can. :P Thanks again.)

Walking in the Magicks Area, The Dark Tsukai know as Chuda Saiga could smell the scent of magical power around him. If his friend Tetsu were alive, he would say something like "How can this people wear the power of the elements if they don't even know the Kami?". He smile faintly. Tetsu use to be so naive... He could never understand that the kami itself are only one of the countless forms of power that gather around the Reality of The Nigen-Do, The Mortal Realm...

He looked around, his eyes evaluating all the Casters and the forms of magick. Thanks to the power gained by Master Daigotsu in the Battle for The Void Realm, He and all his generation knew a little about the other Mahou-Ryu, or Style, that float around the cosmos. This will give him an advantage over the other fighters...

(continue later)

The Argonian moved with a surprising fluidity and quickness, immediately focusing upon Rikan. Rikan did not move, nor divert her gaze at him. She was infamous back home for her notorious knack for keeping a strong stare at anyone she faced. Many times, they would turn away from her, if just gain temporary relief from her.

Rikan bowed respectfully and spoke calmly and not too loudly. However, she knew the Argonian would hear every word.

"My name is Rikan Tansho, of Tarlachia. I have heard many things of your kind's expertise in battle. Considering how this tournament will consist of a series of battles, I would be honored if you would accept my proposal to become my teammate. I have had extensive experience battling many kinds of creatures, and hunt vampires on a regular basis. Not just any vampire, mind you, but rather the experienced ones and Elders. My skill is sure, my cooperation is as well. Do you accept?"

Rikan stopped speaking, and kept her eyes upon the Argonian. Perhaps the most surprising thing was that she was human, and even then, still survived against such creatures such as Elder vampires.

Shadowscale met her gaze, then nodded as she finished. It was uncustomary to bow before an unknown opponent. It was odd that this softskin knew of the customs of his people.

'This one is a hunter like the young Longtail, and looks to be reasonably skilled. A partnership will be interesting...'

Swiftblade spoke, a rare event, with a voice like rain on a craggy cliff...

"I accept your proposal. It will be good to have an ally on this field of battle... I am Shadowscale Swiftblade, Blademaster of the Swiftblade style..."

He bows to his new companion...

Kier rested his hammer on his shoulder. Silver eyes darted about from behind his veil, and he tensed. His grip on the hammer was loose, but then again, that wasn't abnormal.

When his knuckles turned white, well, that was when Bad Things started to happen. That meant somebody was gonna die, in a very messy, very quick, and very painful manner. 'cuz when the knuckles turned white, the gloves came off.

And underneath, was nothin' pleasant. Nothin' pleasant at all.

Kiernan's hammer was as much of a missile weapon as it was a melee weapon, and he probably wouldn't even bother with it in a one-on-one battle. Unless some idiot came at him in full plate.

He had yet to meet the full plate that he couldn't punch through with this hammer. It was a nasty little tool of destruction, but it was a specialized one. It didn't have the utility his swords gave him.

And besides, it wasn't particularly fast.

For him.

Leaning lightly on his staff, ignored by most around him, Cyril listened to the purple knight.
“Mysterious prizes,” he smiled, “just like back home.” Home, of course, was not even on this plane, as far as he knew. That was why he and his two companions were here, after all: to figure out how to get back.

The deep black wood of Cyril’s staff felt warm to his touch, a reminder of the great magicks contained within the arena. Were he perhaps a hundred years younger, the half-elf would have been awed. As such, he brushed aside the thrum of power underfoot and focused on the announcer’s words. . .

“Remind me again why -you’re- not entering?” Cyril turned to his companion, an eight-foot-tall knight clad in silver-gray full plate armor made of mithril-steel and adamant, with a mystic circle inscribed on the breastplate.
“Because alchemists can’t kill without just cause,” the knight shrugged, looking down. “And because summons work differently here. Now, I’ll go check on Ellena, and you go see what you can find out. We’ll be in the stands, so try not to loose -too- badly.”
“Right,” Cyril replied, watching Mortigan the alchemist make his way through the crowd, his armor making hardly a sound.

Deciding that there was no point in waiting any further, Cyril made his way to the magick area. The various spell-casting styles were rather foreign to him, like much of this world, yet at the same time vaguely familiar. A few of the more opulent mages cast scornful looks at his unadorned black staff and simple azure robe and cloak. Cyril decided to ignore them, for the time being, and instead focused on studying those around him.

Rikan smiled slightly. She was glad that the Argonian had accepted her proposal. For some reason, she had a feeling that the two of them would do well together, watching each other's back in battle.

"Great. Now, what do you say we finish listening to this guy, then going to get a drink and some grub?"

What coursse led you here, if I may assk?"

OOC: I'm not going to be able to post for a while... sorry. :(

"I came here to prove my worth. I was sent here to participate in this tournament, and if i fare well enough, I shall be able to enter the ranks of the Riders of Shadostan..."

Shadow looked up at the sky, a far away look in his eyes.

"Ayway," he said, seeming to snap back to reality, "I was wondering if perhaps your esteemed self would consider partnering with me in this contest. I have read great things about your kind in the Halls of Knowledge in Shadostan, and I would greatly like to fight alongside one of the race I have long dreamed of meeting. It is, as one might say, destiny..."

Shado left his speech there, and waited. He knew the answer would probably be a long time coming, but he hoped it would be a good one. He was prepared to wait, at any rate.

Time to BUMP this thread on the road...

I think Kain is still very busy... :(

Rikan smiled slightly. She was glad that the Argonian had accepted her proposal. For some reason, she had a feeling that the two of them would do well together, watching each other's back in battle.

"Great. Now, what do you say we finish listening to this guy, then going to get a drink and some grub?"

Shadowscale reguards her with a rather confused look, then nods. He returns to is alert posture as before, sweeping the area for signs of hostility, looking for weaknesses, and weeding out the professionals from the cannonfodder...

Deciding that there was no point in waiting any further, Cyril made his way to the magick area. The various spell-casting styles were rather foreign to him, like much of this world, yet at the same time vaguely familiar. A few of the more opulent mages cast scornful looks at his unadorned black staff and simple azure robe and cloak. Cyril decided to ignore them, for the time being, and instead focused on studying those around him.

Laine regarded this mage with curiosity. He did not have the flashiness any mages had and was cloathed very simply. She had only fought a few mage-usally she battled orcs and trolls and the Aven or Merfolk-and so had a hard time determining his power lever. after a few minutes of observation, she decided to talk to him. Seeing as Laine had already befriended the lizardman, she thought that it wouldnt hurt to have a mage on her side.

Laine strode in the direction of the mage. Her armor, witch was half wood, that had been blessed by a nature spirit, and half super-hard steel, made by her own folk, glowed a slightly eerie shade of bright green, making several heads turn. Laine stopped a few feet away from her target, took a breath, then stepped up to him. She could feel magical energy raidiating of of him.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Laine Cudan. Could i ask you your name and why you are here?"

Walking in the Magicks Area, The Dark Tsukai know as Chuda Saiga could smell the scent of magical power around him. If his friend Tetsu were alive, he would say something like "How can this people wear the power of the elements if they don't even know the Kami?". He smile faintly. Tetsu used to be so naive... He could never understand that the kami itself are only one of the countless forms of power that gather around the Reality of The Nigen-Do, The Mortal Realm...

He looked around, his eyes evaluating all the Casters and the forms of magick. Thanks to the power gained by Master Daigotsu in the Battle for The Void Realm, He and all his generation knew a little about the other Mahou-Ryu, or Style, that float around the cosmos. This will give him an advantage over the other fighters...

His gaze locked up on the figure of what looks to be a man, but a little less human, more like those elder beings Master Daigotsu used to call Elves. The Tsukai smiled softly, thinking about the posiblitities… He knew that about everyone else in the entire multiverse, the Elves were considered powerful Magicks, and his weird longevity was something that indeed could be studied. He knew about the Legendary willpower of this race, and yet, They could be the perfect Zealot, if the fall to temptation... and Finally, He could feel the raw power of Mahou running through his veins, giving life and madness to all his body... He indeed could feel it, yet, he knew anybody else couldn't. Thanks to his amulets, he though...

Slowly, he get close to the Elven-like wizard, with a false naive expression in his face...
"Pardon me, my friend... I would like to know, is this the Wizard's Area? beacuse I feel a little lost here and you have the face of a veteran warrior... maybe you could help me... of course, if you have the time..."

--Tag--

(OOC Right, now I can work properly on this. Sorry again, my delays were greater than expected. Something turned up.

There are two corridors, one for people who want to particapte into the magic arenas, and the other for fighting arenas. Let me describe both.)

"Combaticants. Separate into your sections, Combat or Magic."

The owner walked off, apparently leaving the combaticants to their own devising to work out what he meant. The more experienced knew what he was going on about.

Within the arena, there were four corridors, with a word above each one.

Combat
Magic
Team
Special

Team and special were barred off by great portcullises, whereas, the other two, people were flooding into slowly. It was quite evident that there were far more fighters this year, their clanking armour and weapons always outmatched the swaying of robes and the thudding of staffs, but this year, the mages seemed insignificant. Still, they held that quiet pride of mages, that many thought themselves as intensely supiour of the fighters....and perhaps each other. Such was the price of a education such as theirs, many became haughty and proud, ignorant that many of those "brutes" could gut them using cold steel before a well placed syllable of defence was uttered.

The two columns filed in the corridors....which opened into smaller chambers. The chambers had desks, four in fact, with staff behind them. They had books, and as the first fighter, a human wearing a great fur of some sort, like a great blue bear skin, and his great axe strapped to his impressive back.

"Name." The staff member said, his purple clad robes hiding his face. Perhaps it was deliberate that he hid his face, but the others held this same attitude.

"Ragnar Wolfbane, scourge of-"

He was interrupted before he could list his accomplishments, as was many of the barbican accustoms.

"Yes yes, quite."

The staff asked the usual questions, filling each section as required, until it came to challenge. The staff simply said:

"Low, medium or high?"

The barbarian looked puzzled, and said rather amused, "Well, I am tall so you could class me as high!"

A few chuckles from the back from his ignorance. The staff member had infinite patience with him.

"What I mean, is what challenge rating will you enter as? I suggest medium for you Ragnar."

The barbarian obviously saw this as a deep insult, his face contorting with outrage.

"How dare you suggest tha-"

And with an immense calmness and authority, with only a few soft words, the staff simply said.

"You will be entered into medium. You are skilled, but not that skilled. Now go into your chambers. You will be told what will occur in a few hours, simply unpack your things and rest."

The barbarian did so, with a snort. The next in line approached.

The room was small and rather humid, numerous lanterns around the room glowed. There were guards about the place. In this room, there was another corridor leading down into the rooms for the combaticants. Each one was rather small, with a bed and places to put Armour and clothes and such. All in all, the rooms were built for practicality, not for comfort, but they were reasonable.

In the magic corridors, there were the same process was taking place, although the rooms were bigger, for they needed to hold the mage’s components.

Rikan followed the host's directions and made her way through the corridor that was designated for combat competitors. Her eyes looked carefully about, taking in the details as she approached the registration table.

"Name?" the mysterious staff member asked.

"Rikan "The Viper" Tansho."

"Low, medium, or high?"

"Medium."

"Right, all finished then."

"Thank you."

Rikan turned away from the table, and made her way into one of the many rooms prepared and waiting to recieve their inhabitants. The room she chose had a small view of a window centered on the far wall, looking out past the Arena, and toward the desert. She dropped her things upon a nearby chair, then lay down on the bed. She wasn't sure when she'd be eating, but until she recieved notice of it, she was going to try and get a few minutes of rest.

Amistad glanced at the speaker announce the partitioning of the fighters. Turning back towards Vorpalis, Amistad said, “Madam, shall we fight together as a team? Pray do consider this. I shall be back shortly to hear your verdict…”

Bowing gracefully, Amistad wheeled on his heels and mingled into the crowd. Soon, he was lost amongst the masses. Glancing at the groupings, Amistad wondered whether he should join the combat competition or the magic competition. Amistad knew that although his magic was unique, he probably would stand little chance against the well-trained mages and sorcerers gathered. But, his combat ability was in a whole different realm. Throughout his life, Amistad had been known for his divine sword skill. Although Amistad never boasted of this fact, Amistad knew that few were of his ability. Decided, Amistad joined the other fighters gathered around the table registering for the combat competition.

With a trained eye, Amistad sized up his competition. From what he saw, several were obviously weaklings with little training, relying instead upon either brute strength or agility. A few had some training, but obviously would be no match for a trained swordsman as Amistad. Sizing his opponents up, Amistad only observed three fighters who were of similar caliber as he was. Most were evidently inferior, but Amistad did not trust his eyes. He knew that not many fighters exhibited their true power openly. Amistad himself, never exhibited his true strength, but kept much of its hidden, one of the reasons, Amistad had became to be known by a pseudonym, the Hidden Dragon.

After what seemed to be an interminable wait of some ten minutes, Amistad arrived finally at the table. The tired bureaucrat glanced up and said, “Name?”

“Amistad Crusade…” Amistad replied simply.

“Alright, Amistad Crusade…” the bureaucrat repeated. Suddenly something within the official’s head clicked. Glancing up, his face turned green, the official stammered, “Any relation to a certain Lance Crusade?”

“He was my father,” Amistad replied.

The bureaucrat gazed down upon the table with trepidation, his hands wobbling as he began to register Amistad. He obviously had some connection to Amistad’s deceased father. Attempting to keep the dread out of his voice, the official said, “You’re obviously registering for the high level, aren’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Well, you’ve been registered… Good luck…”

When Amistad had departed to find Vorpalis, the bureaucrat muttered under his breath, “You’ll need it when the boss is done with you…”

Amistad meanwhile, had moved off to find Vorpalis…

Laine sighed as the announcement was made to enter the fighter catagories. She was a skilled magician, but decided to try her hand in non-magical combat first. She turned away from the unusual mage, and, after a brief glance, headed for the combat line.

"Ill talk to you later, then." she thought to herself. She decided to clean her knife as she waited in line behind an very large human with a very, very large bow. Finally, she was up next.

"Name?" asked one of the staff.

"Laine Cudan" she responded.

"Low, medium, or high?"

Laine twiddled her knife in her hand as she though for a moment.

"Medium, i suppose." She didnt want to try to shoot too high.

"Alrighty, Laine, youve been registered. I suggest you take a rest and prepare for the fights."

"I will," said Laine, slightly preoccupied as she sheathed with her knife, as she turned and headed towards her room. She wanted to try to find either either T'Zark or the dwarf that had challanged the owner before the fights started.

The voice inside Yoshi's head screamed at him to register...

"...COMBATANTS!!! NOW!!!"

Yoshi aquicesed and registered for the combat portion.

Then he went off to prepare...

OOC: Sorry, short post. Very busy :D

OOC: Sorry, been away for the last week. . . family stuff . . .

------------------------------

Slowly, he get close to the Elven-like wizard, with a false naive expression in his face...
"Pardon me, my friend... I would like to know, is this the Wizard's Area? beacuse I feel a little lost here and you have the face of a veteran warrior... maybe you could help me... of course, if you have the time..."

"Huh, wha?" Cyril jerked back to consciousness. His staff burned. A warning, he thought, hearing the strange mage's words. The first speaker was gone. "That way, I believe they said," he shrugged, pointing his staff towards the portal with the words 'Magic' above it. Trouble, he thought, such power . . . he wants something . . . what?

"Now, if you will excuse me," Cyril brushed past the unknown mage, his measured step carrying him through the corridor.

"Name?" one of the staff asked.
"Cyril Allen," Cyril replied, his thought still on the strange spellaster.
"Low, Medium, or High,"
"Medium."
"You sure you can handle it, kid?" a heavy hand descended on Cyril's shoulder. "More like a sub low, if you would ask me," a chorus of laughs followed the remark.
n'Awei'il! the unspoken activator word flashed through the half-elf's thoughts. The errant hand jerked back, burned. "Not here," he said without turning, "later."
"That's all," the official looked up.
"Thanks."

The room was larger that Cyril expected. A bed, a table, a chair – that which was necessary and functional. The azure-robed half-elf leaned his staff in the corner, folded his cloak, and stretched out on the bed, thinking of the woman's voice, the strange mage, and the upcoming battles . . .

After fixing the little bureaucratic affair of telling her name and the "High" word after it for the register, Vorpalis looked for Amistad, as she was really interested in making a team with him, as he proved to be honest, innocent and have a strong conviction and will. As long as his combat abilities are at least acceptable, he will be an amazing fighter, more if he fights alongside me, she thought, letting her elven pride take over her mind for a moment, her arrongance a clear sign of her high self-confidence.

Raven waited in the combat line, waiting came easily to the half-yeti. He studied the combatants as they registered and went in. He saw very few that should have registered as high. Most of the warriors claiming high had bright, shining armor, no battle scars on their shields, and their swords looked ceremonial vice utile. He suspected they would have a very difficult time in the days ahead.

"Name" came the question "Raven Srvassian"

"Low, Medium, or High" came next "Low" Raven answered. He hoped he would be able to say medium next time.

That was it. He walked into the dormitory area and selected one of the few remaining rooms. It was small but much larger than his sleep area at home before he was kicked out. It had a bed and a small window overlooking the arid landscape. He wondered if it was ever going to rain. The longest period without rain he had experienced prior to this was two days. He somehow felt that it was going to be a lot longer here.

He was hungry, all his pack held was a few dried apple slices and a dry but not moldy hunk of cheese. Not a feast but something to sustain him. He noticed a young woman across the hall and offered her some of his meal.

The presence of the half-yeti across the hall was instantly noted by Rikan as she watched him move about his room, getting comfortable with the surroundings before sitting down to begin eating. His eyes turned toward Rikan, kindly smiling as he beckoned for her to eat with him.

Well...I guess it doesn't hurt to have many friends...

Rikan got up, picked up her pack and walked across the hall, stopping only to let a dwarf waddle by as he rushed to grab a room.

"Hello. I'm Rikan. I've got some food here we can share."

Rikan pulled up another chair and sat down, immediately opening it to bring out a carefully wrapped bread and some oranges that were for the most part, still fresh. A combat knife appeared out of the pack and slit the oranges into sections and set them down on the nearby table next to the half-Yeti's food.

"Please, eat what you wish. I've got plenty." she beckoned as she took an offered hunk of cheese and bit into it, carefully but kindly watching the creature before her.

OOC: Sorry it's taken so long; I've had a lot of homework recently. A curse on all essays! :x

Shado left his speech there, and waited. He knew the answer would probably be a long time coming, but he hoped it would be a good one. He was prepared to wait, at any rate.
"I am not ssure what the ruless on teamss will be... I have an agreement with another, but if they permit, I would ccertainly be pleassed to fight at your sside. Either way, I hope we might be friendss.
I wishsh you luck, ssoon-to-be Rider."
T'zark grinned and winked, then strode off to the Combat corridor. He moved more steadily than usual, with fewer darting bursts of motion, so that Shadow could more easily walk beside him if he chose.
"T'zark T'kahndir," the reptile told the purple-clad attendant. He answered the man's other questions, usually saying only a few words, until he came to challenge.
"My training was good, but I'm sure I have much less actual battle experience than most of those here... Low, probably."

Shado did indeed walk beside T'zark as they approached the door labelled combat. He waited patiently for T'zark to enter, saying "I too hope we may be friends, T'zark. I will doubtless see you later on in the arena."

Shado smiled as T'zark walked onn through the doorway. "I too wish you luck, T'zark T'kahndir." Shado called after him.

He stepped up to the attendant, and stated his name, "Shadow Umbronican", and "low" rather sheepishly followed. He grimaced as he walked away, as he knew anyone close would have heard him, but he also knew if he had said he was any better, he'd have been creamed in the first fight. Knowing he had done the right thing made him feel better about himself, though not about the fights that were to come...

An armoured dwarf jingled softly through the combat corridors, his katana upon his back as he walked slowly...almost ritually towards his room. He went to his door and opened it slowly, and with barely a sound, closed it and went to preparing himself for the morning combat.

--

The owner was in a far more frivous mood about that combat. It was barely at the back of his mind as he set about his usual activities. He went down to the underground corridors, the ones closed off to the gladiators here today.

He walked down, his strides long and his purple cloak billowing behind him. He went to the lower levels and saw the ones which he had prepared for this year.

"It has been a long few years. I hope you shall not disappoint our guests."

A chortle of laughs from many different creatures filled the lower levels.

Raven smiled back at Rikan and took some of the offered bread and a slice of orange. "I am Raven" he said "Raven Srvassian from Fetid Fens."

He was not very versed in the art of conversation but companionship and camaraderie was the main reason he came to this place. "I came here not for glory nor for money, but to build friendships and perhaps improve my skills in swordsmanship. " he began. He explained that the huge claymore was his weapon and that he trained with a master swordsman who was blinded by an evil mage. Though he was blind he taught Raven the twisting, turning, blocking, arcing movements necessary to wield a large weapon. The master swordsman explained to Raven how to use his long arms and non-human strength to gain an advantage.

"This land is strange to me, I grew up in the high plateaus of Fetid Fens where it snows almost every day for half of the year, the other half it rains. It is so dry here I wonder how anything can grow." Raven managed to get out. He enjoyed her company and wondered about her homeland.

He haltingly asked at what level she had registered. He told her he was registered at low and that he felt he barely qualified for that. He explained that he had only seen battle during the Yeti/Human conflict and had killed only 8 Yeti and one evil human mage.

Raven smiled back at Rikan and took some of the offered bread and a slice of orange. "I am Raven" he said "Raven Srvassian from Fetid Fens."

He was not very versed in the art of conversation but companionship and camaraderie was the main reason he came to this place. "I came here not for glory nor for money, but to build friendships and perhaps improve my skills in swordsmanship. " he began. He explained that the huge claymore was his weapon and that he trained with a master swordsman who was blinded by an evil mage. Though he was blind he taught Raven the twisting, turning, blocking, arcing movements necessary to wield a large weapon. The master swordsman explained to Raven how to use his long arms and non-human strength to gain an advantage.

"This land is strange to me, I grew up in the high plateaus of Fetid Fens where it snows almost every day for half of the year, the other half it rains. It is so dry here I wonder how anything can grow." Raven managed to get out. He enjoyed her company and wondered about her homeland.

He haltingly asked at what level she had registered. He told her he was registered at low and that he felt he barely qualified for that. He explained that he had only seen battle during the Yeti/Human conflict and had killed only 8 Yeti and one evil human mage.

"Medium." Rikan offered, as she realized Raven's unspoken question, "As for the weather, I don't mind it. I'm used to such dramatic changes. It's something to be expected back home, in the wildlands of Tarlachia, from the plains to the forests to the mountains. Tarlachia has a wide diversity of land climate as well. A rather tumulteous landscape I must say. Never can figure the weather accurately in advance. That's why I learned to read the signs that the Earth gave every morning and even the subtle signs given a few days before. Not many can do that accurately."

She took a bite of the cheese once again, and broke a piece of the bread off to follow the cheese into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully as she sized up Raven, taking into account his soft disposition.

He's still green, but with training, he will be formidable...perhaps...maybe...yes...might be beneficial...

"I have a proposition for you. I will watch your fighting in this tournament. If I like what I see, I'll be willing to help you learn more about the art of combat. If so, I would like to invite you to join me back in Tarlachia, where I know the hunt, and will be able to instruct you on how to best work for your own advantage."

She said the word 'hunt' with a somewhat distasteful tone, yet it was still mysterious as to exactly what she meant...

Amistad scowled as he glanced over the crowd. From what Amistad saw, too many of the gladiators were weaklings, unsuitable for such a tournament of such brutality.

Still scowling, Amistad's eyes turned to the rogue, Rikan talking with a towering figure, who seemed to be a yeti... From Amistad's travels, he knew yetis to be bloodthirsty, cannibalistic creatures, who flouted their strength, and disregarded all nature.

Scowling even heavier, Amistad, moved quickly towards the figure, as he unstrapped his sheathed sword. Narrowing his eyes, Amistad moved into a position upon where he could eavesdrop upon the conversation. Swiftly, his body shifted into a barely perceptible combat stance...

(OOC Alright. I am almost prepared to make the fights occour. Please, give me the go ahead to do so, I will wait until all these little rps have gotten out of the way ok? But this is pretty much what this thread is about, these little character interactions. I might create a new thread for clarification for myself, so my brain does not explode.)

(OOC: Sure thing Kain... BTW, can my character fight against a veteran archer, whose very good at sniping and such?)

(OOC: Sure thing Kain... BTW, can my character fight against a veteran archer, whose very good at sniping and such?)

(OOC If you really want to. I will fill in that role for you should no one want to fill it, because I want some fighting too :P )

(OOC: Sure thing...)

(OOC Alright. I am almost prepared to make the fights occour. Please, give me the go ahead to do so, I will wait until all these little rps have gotten out of the way ok? But this is pretty much what this thread is about, these little character interactions. I might create a new thread for clarification for myself, so my brain does not explode.)

OOC: I'm ready. Just fleshing out my character waiting for the battles to begin. There are some good RPers here I am hoping to learn.

IC: Raven says he would like to learn from Rikan, he will strive to do his best in the coming combat. Raven senses the big swordsman and his sword. He concentrates a little and feels the man adopt an offensive posture. He sighs, probably another case of his being judged by ones eyes rather than the brain. He made himself a promise to make friends not add to his enemy list. As calmly as he can he says to Rikan "Your friend the swordsman with the sword that has it's own life, is just outside should we invite him to join us? I get the feeling he is getting ready to protect you from me. Most people don't like Yetis, I'm not to fond of them myself." Probably the first attempt at humor in his whole life.

OOC: ok, just waiting myself as well...I'll do this post, then I'm off to eat dinner. I'll be back later.

IC:
Rikan smiled slightly as she knew instantly who Raven was talking about. Turning to the door, she walked over to the door, then leaned against it as she peered around the corner. She crossed her arms, and took a bite of the cheese that was in her hand.

"Amistad, you know, it's not nice to eavesdrop without introducing yourself...oh...and put the sword away. It's not time to fight yet. You'll get your fighting soon enough, I can tell..."

Rikan smiled gently at Amistad, enjoying the surprised look upon his face at her soft confrontation.

(OOC: Amistad is not a big man, he's medium sized, but very fast and wicked with his sword and palms... And his sword isn't even out of its sheath...)

"Huh, what?" Cyril jerked back to consciousness. His staff burned. A warning, he thought, hearing the strange mage's words. The first speaker was gone. "That way, I believe they said," he shrugged, pointing his staff towards the portal with the words 'Magic' above it. Trouble, he thought, such power . . . he wants something . . . what?

"Now, if you will excuse me," Cyril brushed past the unknown mage, his measured step carrying him through the corridor.

"Name?" one of the staff asked.
"Cyril Allen," Cyril replied, his thought still on the strange spellaster.
"Low, Medium, or High,"
"Medium."
"You sure you can handle it, kid?" a heavy hand descended on Cyril's shoulder. "More like a sub low, if you would ask me," a chorus of laughs followed the remark.
n'Awei'il! the unspoken activator word flashed through the half-elf's thoughts. The errant hand jerked back, burned. "Not here," he said without turning, "later."
"That's all," the official looked up.
"Thanks."

Just Behind the Half-Elf, The Tsukai smiled. He was the next in the row, but this was not the important thing. He saw the little [i]demostration[i] of Elvish magic made by Cyril, and thought that indeed, he was in true. He felt that strange sensation, some kind of Lust that run through his veins every time he knew that someone corruptable was close to him. "This would be difficult" he thought "Really difficult. The elf seens quite skilled in his magic, and his Will... oh such a thing!... THANKS GREAT FU-LENG!!! THANKS FOR THIS OPORTUNITY!!! AH!!!!!!!!" His face was the perfect facade of a extremly beautiful and controled man. But in his mind, he was screming like a madmen, praising to his Dark God like a Morbid Raper longs for a virgin.... The elf will be a good offering for Fu-Leng, one that the Dark God will pay him really well...

"Name?"
"Chuda Saiga of The Snake Family"
"That's really difficult to pronuouced" says the staff member.
"My language It's not a simple one" replied Saiga, smiling politely "Even The most elder of my nation doesn't know how to write all the words in it yet"
"Mmm... Low, Medium or High?"
"Medium, I supposed"
"Thanks, You can pass now. The Magic Hall it's rigth that way" says the officer, signaling the hall just behind him
"Thank you" anwser The Tsukai while bowing softly. Then he rush thourgh the hall, trying to look for the Half-elf wizard...

"Cyril-san" He shouted, looking at the Half-elf wizard while he was jus about to enter in The Hall "Wait for me, please. I would to share some words with you"

OOC: Begin at your leisure...

OOC: Erm . . . I guess this post takes place right after Cyril enters the magick hall, but before he enters his room.
---------------------------------------

"Cyril-san" He shouted, looking at the Half-elf wizard while he was jus about to enter in The Hall "Wait for me, please. I would to share some words with you"
"Yes?" Cyril halted in surprise at hearing the voice again, turned. Damn, but that mage is persistant, he thought.
He did not like the stranger's feel. It hinted of too much chaos and destruction. Cyril considered the approaching Tsukai. "What can I do for you?" the half-elf asked. There was no point in jumping to conclusions until he knew more.

OOC: Ready when you are!

IC: Shadow looked around at the room he was now standing in. It was one of the holding rooms, and he was surrounded by warriors, mages, orcs, dwarves, gnomes, and all manner of creatures. As he moved towards the wall, Shadow began to feel the air get heavy, and it was harder to breathe. Running through the crowd amidst jeers and laughs, he got to the doorway to the outside before vomiting and gasping for breath. When he had recovered, he decided it would be wiser to stay there.

OOC: If you haven't figured it out yet, Shadow's claustraphobic.

Go here and pout down your level so I can start organising fights. By posting here, you say that you are ready for the fights. It is so I do not have to look all through the thread for your levels etc, so I can have them all in one place. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3069301#3069301)

OOC: ok, just waiting myself as well...I'll do this post, then I'm off to eat dinner. I'll be back later.

IC:
Rikan smiled slightly as she knew instantly who Raven was talking about. Turning to the door, she walked over to the door, then leaned against it as she peered around the corner. She crossed her arms, and took a bite of the cheese that was in her hand.

"Amistad, you know, it's not nice to eavesdrop without introducing yourself...oh...and put the sword away. It's not time to fight yet. You'll get your fighting soon enough, I can tell..."

Rikan smiled gently at Amistad, enjoying the surprised look upon his face at her soft confrontation.

Amistad scowled when he heard Rikan hail him. Wheeling on the heels of his feet, Amistad proceeded towards Rikan, keeping his sheathed sword in his hand. Bowing slightly towards Rikan, Amistad nodded at the massive figure of the half-yeti.

"Fighting, what fighting?" Amistad said in a voice completely incredulous, evidence of extremely well training, "I am only sizing up the opposition."

Glancing at the half-yeti, he continued, "What is being like you doing away from your homeland? It is not often that I have seen yetis outside of their homeland, if at all..."

OOC: Feel free to start the fighting anytime soon Redeemed Heroes...

OOC: Feel free to start the fighting anytime soon Redeemed Heroes...

Raven answers Amistad "Well I am only half Yeti, as you are familiar with Yetis you know I would not be very welcome in the Yeti community. The humans seem to have the same disposition towards me, so I came here where one is judged on abilities and perhaps loyalty not by the amount of hair on my back."

He continues "This land is strange it is hot but no rain. I once thought I prefered the cold barren wasteland of my home but this place is interesting. You are obviously a warrior, a swordsman, is everyone in your homeland a warrior?"

Raven hesitates then adds "I am trained in the use of the claymore, that is my sword over there." he points to the colossal two handed sword standing in the corner. It is almost six and a half feet long, the hand guards are almost three feet from tip to tip and the pommel looks to weigh about ten pounds. The blade shines with a sheen similar to the glimmering of polished high tensile steel, but oddly different.

Shadowscale seats himself in the waiting area, laying his sword horizontally in front of him. He assumes the lotus position, slowly closing his eyes. Shadowscale remained still, his clawed hands resting on his knees.

An odd spectacle, to see a lizard-man in such a pose. Such was the way of Shadowscale Swiftblade, to meditate before he took a life or lost his own. Slowly, the sword began to glow, light creeping out of the sheath. It began to vibrate slowly, then much harder as the Blademaster bound his very life essence into the blade, connecting it to his very soul. If he should fall, and the blade remained intact, he would rise again.

If both he & his blade where destroyed, it would be a different story...

OOC: If he is slain with his own blade, Shadowscale's life essence will enter the blade, residing there for eternity & making the sword a very powerful weapon that is choosy about who it will allow to wield it.

Raven answers Amistad "Well I am only half Yeti, as you are familiar with Yetis you know I would not be very welcome in the Yeti community. The humans seem to have the same disposition towards me, so I came here where one is judged on abilities and perhaps loyalty not by the amount of hair on my back."

He continues "This land is strange it is hot but no rain. I once thought I prefered the cold barren wasteland of my home but this place is interesting. You are obviously a warrior, a swordsman, is everyone in your homeland a warrior?"

Raven hesitates then adds "I am trained in the use of the claymore, that is my sword over there." he points to the colossal two handed sword standing in the corner. It is almost six and a half feet long, the hand guards are almost three feet from tip to tip and the pommel looks to weigh about ten pounds. The blade shines with a sheen similar to the glimmering of polished high tensile steel, but oddly different.

In a wary tone, Amistad replied, "My family were once rulers of a far off kingdom in the Middle Kingdom, the Dukes of Cala, the fighting dukes... But with the reunification of China under Qin Shi Huang, we lost what we once were... We are now fighters of the highest skill and we have traveled throughout the lands, both as wanderers and as peacemakers."

Amistad glanced into the half-yeti's eyes, holding them with his cold, hard gaze and continued, "We are honorable fighters, known mainly for our sword skill and unarmed fighting technique... If you wish, I will show you a trick or two with your sword..."

Amistad glanced into the half-yeti's eyes, holding them with his cold, hard gaze and continued, "We are honorable fighters, known mainly for our sword skill and unarmed fighting technique... If you wish, I will show you a trick or two with your sword..."

Raven answers haltingly "From what I have seen neither Yetis nor humans from my home land are very honorable. It is one thing my master tried to instill in me. I believe I am living up to his expectations. I would be most pleased to learn from you. "

Raven continues "I must tell you that my master told me that I was slow to learn. I have not forgotten any lesson he taught me. I have practiced all of his lessons but the last one I have not mastered. My teacher sent me to run through the briar thicket with only my sword to protect me. It is my task to run through it full speed using the sword to save my skin from the briars while clearing a path for others to follow. I am working hard on this but I have not conquered that last lesson."

"Ah yes..." Amistad replied thinking quickly to the lessons taught him by his own teacher, Omnus Stormrider, "That particular test requires deep concentration and speed... Requiring some techniques as the Perfect Perimeter and Stance... But how have you not mastered this test? It should seem easy for a fighter of your caliber."

After some deliberation Raven answered Amistad "My master said I must have two techniques to complete this lesson. He called them the Protective Circle of Life and the Perfect Balance. I have thought and thought about this and I think it is because I hold my hands wrong at the very top of the Circle. The claymore is very long and to properly complete the end with enough speed to begin anew I have to lift the hilt of the sword very high."

Raven continues "My master was blind and could not see how I held my hands and because they were high above my head he could not feel them with his own hands. He would not climb a ladder and if I got on my knees the movement was all wrong."

"I was very young when he taught me this." he recounted. "It was just before the young men of the village attacked him as he was carrying water back from the well. Seven men killed him and drove me out of my village. I swore on his deathbed that I would ..." Raven struggled to find the right word "Avenge, yes avenge his death. I don't know if vengance is right or wrong but when I return those men will pay with their lives." As he spoke of these thugs his face became like stone and the expression frozen on his face was a mask of death for his enemies.

"Ah... You seek vengeance... I see..." Amistad said as he frowned, considering Raven's words. "Nothing is more sweet than fulfilling a vendetta, avenging oneself... And yet, you should forget your problems and no longer seek revenge. For although it is sweet and fulfilling, you will receive nothing of merit, worthy of mention from such an act..."

Amistad's thoughts then turned to his own life and his own path of vengeance (OOC: Check out the Son of Heaven thread for more information). Continuing, Amistad said, "I have had my own vendetta, something greater than anything you can believe... What good is vengeance? Remember the dwarf seeking revenge for the death of his family? Nothing will result from him... If he succeeds, his life no longer has meaning... If he fails... Well, he fails... Forget your revenge and seek the meaning of your master's teachings. Perhaps, he was meant to die for you to learn..."

Raven thinks for a long time then responds "You speak wise words Amistad, you give me many things to think about. This is what my master did, he made me think until my head hurt."

He continues, "I will ponder the question of my master's death. I will consider my desire for vengeance, or perhaps it is justice I seek. In nature the strong prey on the weak, my master said to be human you must rise above that. I am only half-human maybe I have to try harder."

OOC: Redeemed Heroes you don't have to wait for us to finish, we are just biding our time, warriors in conversation waiting for battle.

Rikan munched on an orange slice, slowly tasting the acidic taste of the fruit, savoring it's bitterness as it went down her throat. And yet, it was slightly sweet as well. The sweetness was hardly noticeable, but at the same time, strong enough to be noted.

"Sounds like a good arrangement to me boys." she commented as she bit into another slice of the orange.

Suddenly, a ringing noise was heard within her pack, and she quickly moved over to pick it up and pull out a small cellular phone. She answered it, then muttered incoherently into it, in a strange cryptic tongue. Moments later, she closed it and turned back to the others.

"Well, it seems as if there is a large scale vampire war about to attack many innocents back home in Tarlachia. I'm needed to defend the civilians, and lead my mercenary group. I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull out of this tournament, unfortunately..."

She turned and walked away, but then stopped and turned to the others once again.

"Raven, keep this card," she said as she tossed him a small card, which had the mercenary group's symbol upon it. On the back was nothing...at least nothing seen to the naked eye. "Meet me in Tarlachia whenever you're ready, and I'll take you through the training as I promised."

She turned her attention to Amistad, "Nice meeting you. Good luck to both of you in the tournament. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

And so that was it. Rikan "Viper" Tansho was gone, having removed herself from the tournament after giving the notice to the staff, whom she knew would send the message of her apologies to the host, as well as her explanation for her leave.

"Good luck fellow contestants. Prove thy worth. Live thy worth."

OOC: Sorry, but I've gotta pull out of this thread. I'm leaving for the summer, which means a very very limited time on the internet, as well as on NS. For all of those that know me personally, I'll see ya back here on NS in August once again, in full force and ready to rumble! hehe!

Fetid Fans, if you want, we can do an rp when I return in August for the training between Rikan and Raven. I'd love to see how that turns out. Let me know by TG what you think.

OOC: sorry for the late... was a little busy with college. and yes, I takes place just in that moment...

OOC: Erm . . . I guess this post takes place right after Cyril enters the magick hall, but before he enters his room.
---------------------------------------

"Cyril-san" He shouted, looking at the Half-elf wizard while he was jus about to enter in The Hall "Wait for me, please. I would to share some words with you"
"Yes?" Cyril halted in surprise at hearing the voice again, turned. Damn, but that mage is persistant, he thought.
He did not like the stranger's feel. It hinted of too much chaos and destruction. Cyril considered the approaching Tsukai. "What can I do for you?" the half-elf asked. There was no point in jumping to conclusions until he knew more.

"Sorry for bothering you, but as I said later, you look like a veteran competitor in This Tournament, and I feel a little lost here" Saiga smiled jovially, His eyes reflecting nothing but curiosity "Maybe you would like to join me and exchange a few opinions about Magic and the other fighters? I saw how you deal with that Bully back in the suscription table, and I find your school really strange for me. How do you do to conjure the magickal energies? Don't you pray or something like that?" suddenly, he stoped in the middle of his parley and made a little reverence, his face a little flush by shame "I'm so sorry, please forgive my rudeness. My Name is Saiga, Chuda Saiga, A quite skilled Shugenja from the Steel Empire of Rokugan... A pleasure to meet you, Cyril-san... By the way, would you like to join me in a "All-Magick" Team? maybe we could find some else, and teach the others What the combined power of Differents Magick Styles can do..." He was smiling all the time, trying to show his respect to the already confuse Elf, Who already looked him with suspicious eyes...

"Indeed, The Elf-blood never miss nothing... I have to move carefully, or my plan will go to toilet as quickly as a piece of paper. And if that means to lock my mind from him, better. One way or another, he would not like to see what is inside..."

T'zark sat back on the small bed, leaning against the wall. He checked the edge of each of his black throwing knives, then began sharpening his sword. His people were patient, far more so, on average, than humans....

[OOC: I've been meaning to tag this for a long time.

Could I wedge a Wyrm into the audience somehow? He wouldn't do much (I've been doing a lot lately); just make comments occasionally.]

TAG!

Still gasping for breath after the suffocation of being so badly enclosed, Shadow looked around the arena. It was spectacular, true, but he was beginning to wonder why no-one had begun fighting yet. He was anxious to begin now, as he was beginning to get a bad feeling about the place...

"Yes . . ." Cyril blinked, somewhat confused for a moment. "Working together -is- a good idea. Could we discuss this somewhere more private, however?" He still did not like Saiga's feel, but neither was there anything to justify that feeling, and a possible ally was not something to pass up.

People on this plane semed to have never heard of the 'net; and it always took a while to explain the princple. That, and standing in the midle of a passageway discussing magick styles did not seem like the best choice.

Swiftblade returned his blade to his back, then rose from his position to walk towards the arena...

(OOC I know Redeemed Heroes and he is having problems getting online...it mgith be pernament that he cannot get online....so I got the message that he wants someone else to host it.....)

(OOC: I'll do it...)

"Yes . . ." Cyril blinked, somewhat confused for a moment. "Working together -is- a good idea. Could we discuss this somewhere more private, however?"

"Sure" replied Saiga with a sincere smile in his mouth "We can talk wherever you want. The problem is that, as you see, I really don't know this place, for nothing" the tsukai scratched his head in a naive gesture "Could you guide me, please?"

(OOC: According to Talaran, Redeemed Heroes, aka Kain Irenicus, has left NS for now... So, unless anyone has any objections, I will begin "running" this thread... So, you guys just continuing RPing conversations, while I think of something...

Message from Kain Irenicus/Redeemed Heroes: "That RPing has been great, and Kain says bye to all the characters. It has been really great being on Nationstates...my thanks and praises to all those who have rped with me, you know who you are.")

OOC: Bummer, Kain's gone? Shame... :(

IC: Shadow looked around the arena once more, admiring the view. He then leant against the wall and bowed his head, resting, waiting for the competition to begin.

Raven was lost in thought mulling over what Amistad had said about vengence and if you dedicated yourself to a vendetta, what do you become when it is over. He finally decided he would not make this vendetta his lifes work but if the opportunity arose he would wreak a terrible toll on killers of blind men.

As happens when you are thinking of one thing a revelation about another often leaps to the forefront of your conscientiousness. Amistad had said to complete Raven's last lesson you must use Perfect Perimeter and Stance, Raven was sure these techniques were the same as Protective Circle of Life and the Perfect Balance. But, Amistad had said and it had never occured to Raven to use both Protective Circle of Life and Perfect Balance at the same time! He could see in his mind how the two together would allow him to do the task. Amistad was a Master, Raven must acknowledge this and tell Amistad.

He jerked his head up but Amistad was gone, there was another warrior there leaning against the wall with his head hung low. Raven said quietly "Do not waste energy worrying about the coming battle or the closed in nature of this place. Clear your mind and your body will follow." Raven was speaking from experience, the Yeti side of him allowed him to wait for hours without moving, getting stiff, sore or fidgeting. Although there is an untamed rage in most Yetis they retain the animal side of nature allowing patience in the stalk or in avoiding detection.

OOC: This is funny . . .
---------------

"That room looks empty," Cyril indicated a still-unoccupied room. "Perhaps we should go there." Can anyone really be that dumb? he wodered. "I'm not very familiar with this place either," he shrugged, beginning to move in the room's direction, not to mention this entire plane, he added mentally.

OOC: This is funny . . .
---------------

"That room looks empty," Cyril indicated a still-unoccupied room. "Perhaps we should go there." Can anyone really be that dumb? he wodered. "I'm not very familiar with this place either," he shrugged, beginning to move in the room's direction, not to mention this entire plane, he added mentally.

Saiga followed Cyril, a grim smile drawed on his lips. "Just as I Thought. The Elf believe I'm some kind of stupid stranger... I like that, It gives the hunt a ironic Touch..."

The Tsukai entered the room, waiting for see what the elf was preparing for him...

OOC: Summer vacation is coming up, and I'm not going to be able to log on very often. Good luck!

Amistad gazed wearily upon the masses of competitors as he walked slowly through the morass, seeking the dwarf that had so rashly challenged the owner of the arena. Sighing inwardly to himself, Amistad's eyes quickly ate up the details as he walked. "Damn't," he muttered, as he stumbled upon the foot of another competitor.

The other competitor was a swarthy, but massive man, nicknamed Colossus, and for good reason. Easily standing over eight feet tall, the man towered over every else. With a sneer, Colossus slammed his massive foot into Amistad's side, sending him sprawling into the masses of other competitors. The other competitors quickly moved away from the brewing confrontation and waited for the inevitable.

Grimacing in pain, Amistad rose slowly from the ground. Swiftly drawing his sword, Amistad confronted the behemoth. In a tone full of malice, Amistad challenged the monster, "What do you want you big prick!?!"

Snarling in response, the Colossus stepped forth. Warily, Amistad stepped backwards. Without warning, the Colossus charged at Amistad, who promptly disappeared and reappeared behind the Colossus. Growling viciously, the Colossus charged once more, but Amistad nimbly escaped. This cat and mouse chase lasted for twenty minutes, until Amistad tiring of the game, moved forward and used his sword, its golden blade arching brilliantly through the light as it easily cut through the tendons of the Colossus's neck. A second later, the sword had cut off the Colossus's head. With a shudder, the body slammed down upon the floor, as blood splurting out of the ghastly wound. Grimacing at the blood, Amistad gave the Colossus's head a kick and walked away, sheathing his sword...

BUMP

"So, you wanted to talk?" Cyril asked, sitting down and setting his black staff aside. "I think that we could make a good team," he stated, "I can't really explain the way 'net magick works . . . it's a reduction of the spellcasting process down to the essential steps -- it removes the words, the gestures, and everything else except for the mental part." Except that the 'everything else' still helps. he didn't add. Watch and wait, let's see if the staff's warning is warranted.

"What skill!" Though Laine inwardly as she watched Crusade neatly seperate the Collossus's head from his body. This man was obviously a person of great power, much greaters than her. Laine doubted that even with all her skill she could deal a serious blow to Crusade. Even her saber, as sharp and deadly as it was, was somewhat lacking in comparision to that massive hunk of steel Cruade carried. Perhaps an alliance with him might be more profitible than facing him in the arena.

"You are very skilled," Spoke Laine as she cautiously steered herself near Crusade until she was walking beside him. She took a quick glance at the still bleeding corpse of Collossus, then said,"Such a kill deserves merit." She paused and said, "Sorry, i have not properly introduced myself. Laine Cudan is my name." She rustled her wings, then asked, "Have you seen that mad dwarf around? The one who challanged the Owner?"

(OOC: Amistad's sword isn't that big, probably classified as a longsword, but normal otherwise...)

Amistad looked questioningly at the woman that had fallen in step with him. Frowning at this intrusion upon his thoughts, Amistad, decided after a moment of thought to answer her question with his own, "Why do you wish to know where the dwarf is? Why do you call him mad? Because he challenged the owner? The dwarf is far from mad... He is blinded by his anguish, torment, and pain. His actions are expected. I was like him once..."

Shaking his head, Amistad continued, "Laine Cudan, is your name you said... My name is Amistad Crusade... I am sorry that I had to show you my paltry skill... I do not like showing off in public and I hope that I did not cause any chafing..."

Suddenly Amistad grimaced, as his side throbbed with renewed pain. Placing his right hand at his side, Amistad slowly rubbed it, in an attempt to restore his circulation...

OOC: I assume a contest has started...

IC:

Swiftblade made his way through the arena, his blade quickly dispatching opponent after opponent. The Blademaster was quick & precise with his cuts, severing the major bloodvessels or destroying vital organs with quick, sharp thrusts to the body.

His current opponent attacked with a hip-to-shoulder uppercut slash, which Shadowscale countered with a quick sidestep & slash across the inner thigh of his attacker, severing the major bloodvessel that ran to the groin & legs. Blood flowed like water onto the arena floor & Shadowscale finished the quick engagement with a merciful downward stab to the forehead.

As he withdrew his blade, he quickly dodged, but not quickly enough. An axe slammed into his left flank, cracking his chitin armor. With a swift grab of the axe-hand & an upward knee strike to the elbow, he rendered his assailant crippled. With the same hand, he backhanded the axe-wielder with his spiked guantlet, ripping the attacker's face away in a bloody sheet.

Slowly, as the adrenaline faded from his system, his side began to ache...

"Well, i suppose that the dwarf's actions are expected," Responded Laine, "But the owner! Think how powerful he must be! I would offer help to the dwarf if i could find him..........But i dont think any creature can defeat that drow....Ah well, i geuss i would do the same if my family were killed."

Laine Could esily guess what Crusade was ranked as "High" and would probably be ranked as "Very, Very high" assuming that there wassuch a position. "Good," She thought. She probably would not have to face him until around the end of the compition, assuming she made it that far.

Laine thought for a moment, then asked, "What happned to you, if you were once like that dwarf?"

Amistad at first did not deign to reply to Laine’s first comment. Inwardly, Amistad seethed at having to deal with this nobody, but taking a deep breath, Amistad calmed himself and said in a monotonous voice, “Nobody is invincible… Everyone has their weaknesses and their strengths…” Continuing, Amistad said in a more playful tone, “The dwarf might actually even win…”

Hearing Laine’s second question, Amistad nearly slapped her for her impudence. But once more, his supreme control held him firm as Amistad answered in a biting tone, meant to make Laine uncomfortable, “My family were hounded by Qin Shi Huang, the Emperor of Qin… My father died bravely, holding the Emperor’s armies off. My mother died from grief… My relatives all murdered… I vowed to kill Qin Shi Huang for his impertinence. I succeeded… But the joy of completing the task of avenging my family was hollow… The completion of my vendetta did not bring joy or relief. Instead it brought sadness and grief…”

OOC: Going by WA's assumption...

IC: Shadow watched as contender after contender was felled by the Argonian warrior. Mesmerised, Shadow watched as Swiftblade danced through numerous attacks, until the axe hit. Cringing, knowing that an axe that sharp would have cut straight through him, Shadow could hardly bear to watch any more. It was then that his name was called, and he was led to another part of the arena. Standing in a vast pit facing him, were a sturdy-looking dwarf with a battle-axe, an elf weilding a curved sword and a bow, and a human, dressed in the robes of a mage of a fairly low order. Pulling out his bow, Shadow hoped to at leaast slow the dwarf down before he got to him, as the elf and the human seemed totally engrossed in some kind of mental feud already...

Shado drew back his bow, and as the dwarf bellowed a gutteral war-cry, the fight began.

(OOC: What the hell are you people doing!?! WA's actions I can accept, but Shadostan, a battle is a one on one unless specified otherwise!)

Raven was slowly wandering through the assembled crowd of warriors, each one looking for the listings of the upcoming matches. There was lots of lists posted but these were for weapons repairers, armorers, wizards offering to "enchant" weapons, many offers of special charms, amulets, and rings of power. No real list of the matches, it didn't really matter because most of the combatants couldn't read anyway.

Raven felt Amistad and the Colossus doing battle before he heard the sounds of the crowd clearing a space for the short fight. By the time Raven got there it was over and Amistad was gone. The headless Colossus was still there and Raven wondered if the beast had a pendant from the owner, then wondered if it worked for combat outside of the scheduled matches in the arena.

As Raven was observing the dead Colossus he heard this sneering voice call out to him "Hey you repulsive Yeti, what are you looking at?" He turned and found himself facing a two headed woman (women?), she/they were holding a huge mace in one hand and a flail with a spiked ball at the end in the other hand. Without a doubt the ugliest human(s) he had ever seen.

Because Raven had committed hemself to being a calmer, gentler person he decided not to call her/them out and said "If you are so interested in doing battle I will talk to Amistad to see if we can be the first ones up."

OOC:5CN Can this be the first match, I need to practice RPing swordplay and will do both sides. I promise to keep it short.

(OOC: Sure, why not... Just say you two have already been paired off... BTW, Amistad is not the owner of the arena... The little half-gnome is still there...)

OCC:I think a few people are a little confused. The fights havent started, have they? the fight between Collossus and Amistad was just a pre-game accidentil fight, yes?

IC: "Damn!" Laine cursed inwardly at herself. She had obviously angered Amistad by asking such a personal qestion. Why did she always have to say something stupid? Now there was little chance for an alliance with Crusade.

"I.....am sorry," said Laine uncomfertably. "That qestion was a little too bold. I should not have asked it." She halted, then started to walk slowley in the opposite direction. She said softly, "I will see you in the arena, then. Good luck."

However, after Amisted had walked almost out of sight, Laine turned around and started to follow him again. Something about the man facinated her, so she dicided to keep him in her sight. Plus, she still wanted to find the dwarf that had challaanged the owner, and she hoped that Crusade might find him soon.

Raven made his way to the main entrance to the arena. He was looking for a list of the upcoming bouts. As he arrived at the huge scarred doors of the central entryway a small half-gnome was attaching a small piece of parchment to the door. THe Gnome was short and Raven is tall so the notice was about knee level to Raven. Raven detached the parchment note and reposted it at chest level. It simply said

First Match 8:00 PM

Angelclodskull Hinsnath of Gar'taia (Two Headed Amazon) VS Raven Srvassian Of Fetid Fens (Half Yeti)

So that's it then Raven thought. He turned away from the door and started back to his little room to rest and prepare. He noticed the speculators had already started to post odds. It would seem as if Angelclodskull was known to a few and the odds were already against Raven. The bits and pieces of conversation indicated one head controlled one hand and the other head controlled the opposite hand.

Raven checked his pockets he had two golds, one silver and six coppers. He found an odds maker and put the lot on himself. It was 2 and a half to one against him. While walking to his little room many spectators were sizing him up and making bets. The noise level had increased two-fold.

It was a little before 8:00 and while making his way towards the main arena Raven found himself surrounded by sycophants, toadys, and people trying to derive thrills out of someone elses glories or defeats. These were odd emotions to Raven, the crowds were another new thing for the half-Yeti from Fetid Fens. If he totaled up all the people he had ever seen in his life it would be close to the number of people gathered here this evening.

Everyone he passed by shouted advice or derided him. He was familiar with derision, he used the insults and cat calls to calm himself, to focus on the match ahead. Funny how fate works out he thought The very woman/women who called him out, turns out to be his first match

Raven entered the arena and the crowd erupted into boos, hoots, and a few sporadic cheers. He was not the favorite for sure. He pulled the massive claymore from the sheath on his back and began to warm-up his muscles. He started with the warm-up circles and figure eights his master had taught him. The combination of his height, length of his arms, and the sword itself caused a sound not unlike the buzzing of large insects.

He was about midway through his exercize when the crowd once more erupted, this time much louder and with more cheers than boos.

It was Angelclodskull Hinsnath of Gar'taia her/themselves. She/they clomped just far enough into the arena to be able to swing the flail with the spiked ball completely around her. She was the crowd's favorite. Raven didn't care.

The little half-gnome appeared in a viewing box centered in the high wall of the arena. He rang a loud bell and in a voice augmented somehow he said "Let the match begin"

Angelclodskull was swinging the flail and the big mace around in a pattern designed to confuse a would be attacker. Raven quickly figured out the pattern and how to counter it. He moved in swinging the great claymore with both hands. The pattern he used was the "Black Death" pattern his master had taught him long ago. It too was designed to confuse but it had the added benefit of allowing Raven to switch directions easily.

Along with the swinging of her/their weapons Angelclodskull was cursing and insulting with both heads. With a quick flip of his wrists Raven leaned back and swung the great sword at the legs of the Amazon. He timed the change and the swing to blend with the motions of her left arm, the one holding the mace. Angelclodskull saw it coming and managed to block the attack with the mace. The weight of Raven's claymore and the power of his muscles would normally carry through the block of the mace and severly injure the left leg of his opponent.

Raven had to stop the forward movement of the sword to pull up and back to block the flail coming from the other hand. The right head of Angelclodskull seemed surprised he had seen the attack coming and even more surprised he blocked the attack. Then Raven did something she was not prepared for. He twirled his sword until one of the wide guards caught the chains of the flail and used that motion to carry the blade of the sword towards the left head. The left hand moved quickly to block the sword with the mace but was a little late. The heavy claymore pushed back the mace and continued to the left head. The mace did block the strike but Raven still smashed her with the flat of the blade, clipping part of her ear off.

The left hand tried to snare Raven's sword but he was too quick and pulled back. He shifted patterns to "Righteous Destruction" and stepped back waiting for Angelclodskull to follow. When she didn't Raven figured out that she probably had one leg controlled by one head, the other leg - other head. This ruined her mobility and explained why she waited for him to attack. He began a series of spins, turns and parries each designed to nip at her weapons, the real attack coming when he was almost behind her.

The end was so quick many in the audience missed it. Raven, from behind sliced her hamstrings and as she fell drove the sword into her heart. With a quiver she became motionless. Raven pulled the sword out and cleaned it as several lackeys surrounded the fallen Amazon and she disappeared. The half-gnome announced the fight was fair and Raven was the winner. He was tired but not too tired to pick up his money from the bookie.

"So, you wanted to talk?" Cyril asked, sitting down and setting his black staff aside. "I think that we could make a good team," he stated, "I can't really explain the way 'net magick works . . . it's a reduction of the spellcasting process down to the essential steps -- it removes the words, the gestures, and everything else except for the mental part." Except that the 'everything else' still helps. he didn't add. Watch and wait, let's see if the staff's warning is warranted.

"So, are you telling me That you can cast a spell without a any component at all?" Said Saiga, his face painted in a mask of awe "... I have always though that ability was beyond mortal's range. Seems like you and I could really make a good team, Cyril-san" The Beautiful Bastard It's trying to confuse me. Only the gods can control the nature of the world in such a way... But, in any other rate, This looks interesting, Let's see whatever He have to say, maybe I could learn something more about that 'Net Magick' surely Lord Daigotsu will like to know about this "Well, What can I tell you about me? I'm a Shugenja, a priest of the Kami. My powers lie in the understanding of the nature of the spirits that are contained in every being in the universe. You See, everything in this world have a spirit, a presence, That can be reached or lurked. Every Kami has it's own nature, but principaly they are five: Fire, Water, Air, Earth and Void. What The Shugenja do It's to gain the favor of this spirits by praying and giving offerings to them. In reply, They do what you want it to do for you... Whatever thing you want" His voice became that of a seducer, Trying to taint Cyril in the ways of power... His way of power... "Would you like me to make you a little demostration? and maybe you can show me more about your style, What dou yo say, Cyril-san?"

OOC: well . . . magick is only the manipulation of the fundus for those from Cyril's world. Cyril thinks you're referring to different spirits. . .
--------------------------------

My powers lie in the understanding of the nature of the spirits that are contained in every being in the universe.
So . . . that's like summoning, Cyril thought as Saiga continued to speak. Except that Spirits of the Five Realms never bother with offerings -- they just make sure you're somehow indebted to them and then have you do -their- bidding. Ellena was perhaps the only summoner Cyril knew who could get Spirits to do what she wanted, within limits.

"Would you like me to make you a little demostration? and maybe you can show me more about your style, What dou yo say, Cyril-san?"
"Sure," Cyril replied. This was interesting, although Saiga's power sounded too much like Blood Magick -- one of the three magicks that were shunned by every mage within his native 'Realms [Blood Magick, Necromanacery, and Black Fire].

"Although I'm afraid you've misunderstood me," Cyril continued, "The 'net only provides the energy needed to fuel a natural reaction. You still need a medium to work on. Er . . . " he pointed at a small table standing in the corner of the room.

Hydrocarbons . . . he drew energy from the ambient 'net that was part of the magick that flowed through every plane he had so far visited. Most spellcasters could tap it, but you had to know what to look for before you could truly harness its power. The table began to smoke. Cyril changed the reaction pattern, forcing the negative enthalpy of the reaction to fuel further combustion. In seconds, the table was a pile of ash. Cyril sighed, wiped the slight perspiration off his face. "The only problem is putting it back together," he grinned.

Amistad silently noted the presence of Laine following him. Sighing in exasperation to himself, Amistad continued walking. Climbing the ramparts of the arena, Amistad watched Raven skillfully defeat a two headed giant. Applauding at the obvious skill in Raven's ability, Amistad suddenly felt a slight chill as Raven reminded him of himself when he was younger.

Shrugging off his uneasiness, Amistad turned around and slammed into the dwarf that he had been seeking. The dwarf gritted his teeth in anger and said, “Watch were ye go laddy... Do ye wanna get killed by my katana?”

Amistad inwardly seethed as he dropped into a subtle fighting stance. Although Amistad remained standing straight, he was ready to decapitate the dwarf for his impudence. In a tone filled with malice, Amistad said, “You, dwarf. I suggest you forget your quest for vengeance, for if you don’t, you will die by the hand of the master… You are below his ability. Leave this arena and this land and you will live to fight again. Fight the owner now and you will die a long, painful death…”

As Laine made sure to keep Amistad in sight, she was distrated my the starting of the first match. It pitted a two headed amazon against a large Half-Yeti that Laine had noticed on the way into the arena. It seemed the the Helf-Yeti was much more skilled than anyone had previousy imagined. She cheered loudly as the amaxon was gutted by the Half-Yeti's big claymore. She deided to keep an eye out or the Half-Yeti lated in the compitition; he was quite skilled.

Laine looked back at Amistad and noticed that he had finally found the dwarf she had been looking for.

".....You are below his ability. Leave this arena and this land and you will live to fight again. Fight the owner now and you will die a long, painful death…..." Amistad was saying.

"I agree," Spoke Laine as she walked beside Amistad once again. "However, if you decide not to leave, i would like to give you some aid in your blood quest." She placed her hands on her hips as she waited for an answer.

Focusing on the image of the table, Cyril forced energy into the products of the decomposition that destroyed the table. Normally, we would have drawn a runic circle and had been done with it, but he did not want to reveal everything to a stranger, especially not to one who was laying it on as thick as honey.

Bluish static crackled and spiraled around the ashes, and a plume of whitish smoke arose from it -- icy oxygen resulting from the reassembly. When it cleared, the table stood again in its original spot.

"There are other applications for magick, but they'll be useless in battle," Cyril shrugged. In battle, all he needed was a spark. Oxygen concentration adjusted, a spark would turn into a blazing inferno that would blast towards the opponent. This was something else he chose not to mention. Besides, he could not demonstrate it without killing everyone around from lack of oxygen . . .

Amistad narrowed his eyes and turned his cold, hard stare upon Laine as he frowned in annoyance. Meanwhile, the dwarf snorted at the impetuousness of the youngster that had walked over and offered her assistance. Carefully eyeing Laine, the dwarf coldly said, “Go away, fledgling… Ye won’t stand a minute against trained fighters… Begone!”

Turning his attention back to Amistad, the dwarf slowly began to unsheathe his katana. Amistad saw this move and quickly moved forward, slamming his palm into the dwarf’s arm and resheathing the dwarf’s katana. The dwarf jerked in surprise.

Stepping back, the dwarf eyed Amistad with grudging respect. Their eyes connected and Amistad saw the pure hatred that emanated from the eyes of the dwarf. The dwarf tore his eyes away and walked away, while Amistad turned on Laine.

"Very well," Muttered Laine. "I wouldnt last even a single minute? Then try to land a blow on me, dwarf!" She said this last bit louder so the dwarf so he could hear her. Her eyes narrowed as she prepared a magical shield around her person. She hoped that the dwarf would try to attack her. She did not meet Amistad's eyes, for she did not want to be distracted.

The dwarf snorted in disgust. Turning his head back, he stared at Laine and began laughing, deigning to take up her challenge. Instead with an imperious toss of his head, the dwarf seemingly dismissed her and continued walking.

Amistad stared at the departing dwarf coldly, sighing while muttering under his breath, "To bad... You're a good fighter dwarf... The world could use another guardian... But I can now see you are not destined for this task..." Taking a deep breath, Amistad turned and eyed Laine coolly, surveying her magical barrier. Disgusted by her temper and her lack of self-control, Amistad walked away.

Descending from the ramparts, Amistad noticed the drawn-up rounds and discovered his name, next to that of someone named Raz Arkam. Interesting, Amistad thought, So Raz is also in this tournament... I have heard much about his marksmanship and it seems that I will finally be able to witness one of the legends in the world...

Laine let down the her magical barrier as the dwarf walked away. She sighed, disgusted with her lack of control. She was better than this. Still, she would be sorry to see the dwarf die. She sighed again, then walked away, putting the entire incident in the back of her mind.

OCC:I hope no one minds if i have a match now......

IC:Still feeling slightly annoyed, Laine checked who and when she would be fighting on one of the match boards. She was startled to discover that she was fighting in just a few moments, against a human named Dorian Ravuuk. She hoped that this would be a somewhat worthy opponent. As she made her way to the arena, she heard several combatants discuss who they thought would be the winner. She ignored the fact that the odds did not seem in favor to her.

As she stepped into the arena, she caught sight of her opponent for the first time. Ravuuk was not large, as she had expected, but about as tall as she. He carried a longsword and a powerful-looking bow. He must be skilled if the odds were so heivily against her.

"Begin!" Sqeaked the Gnome.

The two combatants circled each other in a deadly stare down, each waiting for the other to move. Laine switched weapons from her saber to her Sword-Staff. It was comprised of a single black rod with wide sword blade attached to each end. It gave versitility, power, and speed to its weilder. She feared that her Saber might not be heavy enough to deflect a blow from Ravuuk's longsword.

Not a moment too soon, her opoponant lunged towards her, preparing to strick a deadly blow. The lopngsword and Staff struck each other, clanging loundly. Each blow Ravuuk made was made with precision and accuracy, as well an impecable timing. He did not seem to tire eisily either. They continued like this for several minutes, with Laine on the defensive.

Then, Ravuuk made his first mistake. He swung too far to the left, while Laine, eisily dodging the blow, knowed his sword to the side with one blade of her staff and forced a long slice into his face with the other blade. He stumbled back, gasping in pain. Laine hoped that Amistad was watching, because now he would see what she could do.

Laine attacked again, sweeping downward this time with her weapon. Ravuuk jumped at an angle that prevented his lower leg from being sliced off, but the staff blade hit his calf. Blood gushed from the wound. Laine gave him a punch to the wounded side of the face, forcing him to cover it. She spread her wings and took off from the ground, and flung her staff in a deadly spinning attack. Ravuuk would have been killed if he had not looked through his fingers covering his face, but he had just enough time to move away before the blade serrated through his skull. Still, he took the staff in his right shoulder.

Laine darted downward, smashing into him. She drew her Saber as he struggled to get up. As she pressed her attack, the crowd saw that her strikes were just as deadly and precise as Ravuuk's. As for Ravuuk, who could barely even move anymore, he started to slow down as he sloppily blocked another one of Laine's strikes. She took this oppertunity to force his sword arm down with her armored foot and drive her saber into Ravuuk's stomach. Blood gushed forth as she whipped it out, severing his head. The death bell rang for Ravuuk, who vanished, thanks to the magik of the gnome's pendants.

Picking up her discarded weapons, Laine headed out of the arena to a multitude of cheers. She tok a moment to sat down and recooperate before she decided not too bask too much; after all, Ravuuk was just one in many that she would have to defeat in this competion. Still, she was very satisfied with the match.

Amistad silently made his way to the battlegrounds of the arena, alert and ready, as he prepared himself for the upcoming duel with Raz Arkam, known as the Nightmare Archer. For second time in his life, Amistad was afraid. Steeling himself for the confrontation, Amistad walked onto the arena grounds as he looked across at his opponent, a lithe figure. The crowds cheered raucously the two contenders.

Unsheathing his Sword of Cala, Amistad saluted the crowds, allowing the sword’s golden blade to glint powerfully through the arena. Meanwhile, his opponent, the elven archer, Raz Arkam, drew forth his bow and carefully placing an arrow, shot it into the sky. But instead of a normal arrow, the arrow transformed and exploded with deadly force five hundred meters above the arena. The crowds suddenly became quiet at this sudden display of power.

Uneasy, Amistad quickly shifted into a barely discernable combat stance, with his sword held tightly in his right hand, as he warily eyed his skilled opponent. I must not fear, for fear is the mind killer. thought Amistad as he watched his opponent. Raz, meanwhile, had pulled three arrows from his quiver and eyed Amistad. Suddenly Raz moved, bringing the arrows to his bow and sending the three deadly arrows flying swiftly towards Amistad.

Surprised, Amistad barely managed to evade two of the arrows and blocking another with his sword. But the last arrow exploded, the shockwave sending Amistad flying back and smashing into the arena wall. More importantly, however, was that Amistad had dropped his sword. A swordmaster without his sword was naked, defenseless…

Raz intent upon finishing the duel quickly, pulled another arrow from his quiver and immediately sent it flying through the air towards Amistad. But through some twist of luck, Amistad managed to roll away from the arrow and leapt back into a standing position. Even more wary of Raz, Amistad dropped into an obvious combat stance, albeit different from anything ever seen before. To any of the onlookers, Amistad seemed to radiate some form of golden aura, as he faced Raz.

Raz smirked and drew forth another and sent it flying towards Amistad. Without seemingly to move, Amistad caught the arrow and snapped it in half. Narrowing his eyes into tiny dangerous slits, Amistad suddenly moved into motion, leaping forth from his position and moving towards Raz. As he moved, his twin hands began to whirl oddly in the air. To a skilled onlooker, such as the owner of the arena, Amistad, for a second, seemed to take on the shape of a raging dragon as he moved.

Startled, Raz swiftly tied the bow to his back and unsheathed a pair of dueling daggers. Springing forth from his position, Raz confronted Amistad. The two fighters slammed together in the center of the arena sending up a whirlwind of dust and smoke, shrouding the two fighters from view.

When the smoke had cleared, the crowds saw Raz straining to place his two daggers into Amistad’s body, while Amistad doggedly held onto the blades of the daggers and slowly pushing them towards Raz. The real duel had begun…

Amistad’s mind slowly began to float away as he attempted to find the fastest way to defeat his skilled opponent. As the two fighters belabored each other, Raz’s sharp, deadly blades had begun its work, cutting deep into Amistad’s palms. Blood began to flow from the two wounds. Slowly Amistad came fully back from his contemplation as he grimaced from the loss of blood. But that was not all. Raz’s two daggers were coated with a deadly poison.

Suddenly, Amistad gasped at the sharp pain that suddenly coursed through his veins, as the poison began to make his way through his bloodstream. A sudden paralysis came over Amistad’s two hands and he released his hold on the two daggers, which Raz swiftly plunged into his chest. With a move borne more of desperation than with calculation, Amistad slammed his right foot into Raz’s side with such force that Raz released the two daggers and flipped onto the ground.

His hands burning with agony, Amistad staggered back, away from Raz as he glanced down upon the two poisonous daggers within his chest. In great pain, Amistad managed to bring his gaze upon Raz and with tremendous anger struck out with his legs, utilizing the hereditary Diety of the Wind leg technique, sending wave after wave of near supersonic shockwaves of wind smashing into Raz.

Raz, completely defenseless against this show of tremendous power, could only allow the blows to smash continuously into him. Allowing himself to drop into the bloodlust of battle, Amistad slammed his left leg into Raz’s neck, breaking it. When Raz’s body dropped to the floor, he was dead.

Howling his anger, Amistad suddenly collapsed, his bloodlust ended and the poison infecting his entire body. He was barely alive…

Hurriedly, the arena attendants retrieved the bodies, intent upon reviving the dead Raz and healing the ravages inflicted upon Amistad’s body.

Raven watched Amistad's fight with interest and cheered loudly when Amistad won the contest. When he heard the crowd murmur "Poison" he was repulsed and angered.

For 10,000 years humans have been poisoning the Yeti's water suppy, food supply and the very ground they walk on. Over the millennia Yeti's have built up a very high tolerance to poisons of all types. They have built up an even higher hatred of poison. Most of this information is unknown to Raven but the instinctive hatred inborn in the half-yeti side of him causes him to hold Raz in contempt.

Amistad's display of power while poisoned amazed Raven. He couldn't figure out the Diety of the Wind was it magic, skill or something he couldn't fathom.

Raven finished the whole lamb he had purchased from one of the arena vendors and washed it down with some stale ale again purchased from a vendor. He wondered if it was acceptable to whack the stale ale purveyor alongside the head for serving such swill. He wandered off to garner an opinion.

Amistad was more dead than alive when he was wheeled into the infirmary. Swiftly a healer began to examine him, frowning as he felt Amistad's pulse. Shrugging impassively, the healer pulled out of his belt a small sceptre which he waved over Amistad's entire body, slowly muttering incantations in a language long-dead. The sceptre slowly drew the poison from Amistad's body.

An hour later, Amistad awoke, bandages around his hands and his chest. Grimacing in pain, Amistad glanced about. An attendant swiftly helped him to dress, as Amistad strapped his sheathed sword to his back and immediately staggered out of the infirmary and into the arena, grimacing from the pain of his wounds. Damn't... he thought, I better be more careful next time... Raz nearly took me by surprise that time.

Shrugging to himself, Amistad walked slowly towards the arena, awaiting the next battle...

Bump...

Raven wandered down to the match board where the next few bouts were posted. Someone had stuck a post in the soft ground just below the area where the matches were pinned to the scarred wooden plank that served as a bulletin board. The post must be for the half-gnome to reach above knee level. Raven read down the list and spotted:


Match 14 2:30 PM
Raven Srvassian Of Fetid Fens (Half Yeti) VS Isterhaus Macularia of Romanus Hybernia (Mage)


Raven says "A MAGE, what is going on here? I thought it was warrior against warrior, mage against mage."

A withered old toothless woman of indeterminate age and nationality comes up to Raven and whispers "He paid someone off, big guy, my money is still on you. Isterhaus is just a bush wizard, no real magic."

"Bribes!" Raven is angry, he has a certain dislike for mages, especially after his battle back home with the evil mage.

"One match at a time, no dupes please" Sayeth the raven.

At the appointed time Raven nervously approached the arena. He was still angry that he had to face a mage, angry that someone had bribed the arranger of the match. His anger was further fueled due to his recently acquired dislike of mages in general.

He had barely entered the arena when the half-gnome rang the bell and announced the bout had begun. what no time to warm up? he thought This is really unfair. This served to stoke the fires of his anger. He was irate that he allowed himself to believe this competition would be fair in all respects, Raven, who had never gotten a fair shake in his entire short life, was upset he was not on his guard.

Anger is your worst enemy, more dangerous than the person trying to kill you. The words of his blind master echoed in his head. Raven started to force the anger out of his mind. As he was doing this the mage Isterhaus Macularia began to gather energy from the very air around him. Isterhaus concentrated the energy into a bolt not unlike lightening, it left the nexus between the mage's hands and went straight towards Raven.

Two things saved Raven's life. The first was the rigorous training his master had instilled in him. This allowed Raven to draw the huge claymore out of the scabbard on his back and block the bolt of energy in one fluid motion. The second was the claymore itself. Apparently it was imbued with a magic of its own. The massive sword absorbed the blast and began to glow dissipating the energy it had consumed.

Raven realized how lucky he had been. If he had allowed the anger to cloud his mind a few seconds longer he would be dead.

The half-yeti was a very large person, nearly seven feet tall, along with the great size comes great muscles, but they need to be warmed up if Raven was going to be able to strike this most dangerous opponent. He began the most fluid sword technique he knew The Dance of the Cobra and the Mongoose, this would also serve to deflect any more energy bolts directed at Raven while warming up his body.

The mage alternated shooting blasts of the blueish energy and crimson fire bolts. Both of which the combined movement and the attributes of the claymore dealt with. Raven was slowly moving towards the mage and began to wonder if the toothless hag was right. Was Isterhaus mearly a hedge wizard? He thought not, this was the time to trust only himself and his abilities, not the words of others.

As Raven neared Isterhaus the mage gathered energy between his hands and Raven was hit with a brilliant blast of light blinding him. Raven couldn't see a thing. He was now as calm as he could manage, the vision of ice and snow had replace the fire of anger. Raven recalled how his blind master had fenced with him and though Raven was twice as tall and at least two times heavier the blind master swordsman had easily defended himself. Raven used those images and motions he had seen his master display and employed them. He continued to deflect everything the mage threw at him.

The mage stepped back and Raven felt himself sinking into the hardpacked clay floor of the arena. When he had sunk to mid-calf the clay hardened once again and Raven was trapped.

Raven heard the rustle of the mages fancy cloak as the mage tried to get behind Raven. Raven struck out with incredible speed and force striking the mage across the neck and back of the head. The mage had some sort of protective armor around his neck, designed to protect him from a blow like this. It was good armor but the designer had never seen a half-yeti. The armor crumpled under the potency of the blow. Isterhaus fell to his knees, blood flowing from the gash in his neck. As he tried to recover from the attack, Raven dug his feet out of the clay with the claymore. Sight was returning along the outermost edge of his vision.

Isterhaus called up a swarm of bees to attack Raven and to give him some time to move away from Raven. He didn't count on the thick hide-like skin of the half-yeti. Raven ignored the bees and listened for the mage's labored breath. Concentrating on the sound and with the claymore in constant motion Raven closed in on the mage.

Isterhaus made one last ditch effort and the ground under Raven's feet turned to grease, but the coup de grâce was on its way. The heavy claymore struck the mage in the abdomen and as Raven slipped he drove the blade all the way to the spine. The mage fell backwards and disappeared thanks to the pendant. Raven was guided back to the infirmary to get his vision back.

Amistad watched impassively as the half-yeti named Raven finished off the mage. Shaking his head, not in disgust, but in the extraordinary abilities that the half-yeti was displaying, Amistad whirled around. Walking slowly, Amistad thought back to the ultimate sacrifice that his father had committed.

Sighing, Amistad began to pray silently to the Gods above. Come forth, ye Gods of Old... Bring forth a sign to one lost... Bring forth a task for one worthless... Finished, Amistad glanced about, his keen eyes flowing over the crowd...

#tagged...

Bumpity Bump--I'm pathetic in trying to resurrect this thread... :(