Subject: Dezveraun the Damned vs. Daryth the Bard
Date: Thu, 06 Jan 2000 17:39:12 PST
From: "Bill Mullen" 
To: gschick@theocc.com

   It's a beautiful day in Saberhaven--warm, clear, bright, and perfect for
a little bloodshed!  There are a few empty seats, though not many, and the
crowd seems a little lazy in the heat--laid back and drinking ale.

   They stir to attention as the names are called!

   Daryth the bard floats in on a magic carpet, loaded with drums and other
musical equipment--actually, nine Daryth's float in, the images swirling
about.  Several female fans swoon as they gaze upon his beautiful face, his
brilliant green eyes, and his short blonde hair.  Daryth is dressed in loose
fitting silk clothing--a forest green shirt and black pants that shimmer in
the sun.  He is beating a steady rythym on his drums.

   "What is this pretty-boy doing fighting for the Powers of the Dark?" some
fan grumbles.

   A young pretty girl looks at the fan accusingly.  "He's fighting for the
woman he loves!  It's so romantic..."

   The fan leers, and cups his groin.  "Yeah, yeah...  I got your romance
right over here..."

   Dezveraun the Damned also makes his entrance to the Arena.  This Drow elf
is known to be the rarest of the rare, an albino.  He wears black armor
engraved with runes, and a matching helm, and carries a monstrous black bow.
  His cloak flares behind him for a moment, then his entire form shimmers,
then seems to meld into the background, no longer visible.

   Daryth just grins, and triumphantly finishes his drumbeat.  A huge arc of
lightning appears in front of Dazveraun, lancing into the spot the Damned
had been standing in, smashing into the wall, and rebounding back out.

     Dezveraun simply smiles, ignoring the bolt, and gracefully darting to
the side, nocking an arrow on his mighty Demon bow.  Daryth does the same
with his own, equally mighty bow, as he zooms in on his flying carpet.  He
seems to see Dezveraun just fine, even though the crowd cannot.

     Both fighters unleash arrows at nearly the same time, but Daryth gets
his off a touch faster.  Dezveraun's eyes widen and he begins to dodge,
trying to avoid a flurry of eight arrows.  He manages to avoid five of them,
but three still find their mark, doing decent damage.  Dezveraun feels some
sickly tingles of magic, but is barely able to resist them.

     Finally, Dezveraun is able to get his own arrow shots off.  Both fly
straight and true, and slam into the rapidly closing Daryth.  However, they
TIK off like they were hitting solid stone.

   Dezveraun, recognizing the stoneskins for what they are, replaces his
bow. Both his Sword of Assassination and his Dagger "doombringer" are in his
grasp.

     Daryth flies closer on his carpet, but slows and stops about 40 yards
from Dezveraun.  The blonde minstrel flashes his brilliant smile towards the
ladies as he lays his bow down beside him, and begins beating a set of drums
before him.

     Immediately, the ground begins to pitch and quake!  Mighty rumbles
vibrate into the air as the very earth beneath Dezveraun moves!  The fighter
can barely keep his feet.

     Daryth smirks as he once again picks up his bow, and nocks an arrow...

   Taken aback, Dezveraun grows infuriated at the annoyances this minstrel
is conducting.  He tries to raise his hand to throw his mighty dagger, but
Doombringer tumbles from Dezveraun's fingers as the ground trembles and the
albino Drow lurches to his knee.  He looks up to see Daryth waving to the
crowd from his carpet, as he confidently lifts his bow from where he laid it
beside him.  Again, the bard raises the bow with a familiar ease, and
unleashes an arrow... or tries to, but tries to move to quickly and
completely fumbles the move.  "Oh for goodness' sakes..." the pretty-boy
moans.

    Dezveraun tries to draw another weapon, but the shaking ground forces
him to spend almost his entire attention just keeping his feet.  Daryth is
under no such restriction, and the blonde half-elf takes a deep breath, then
brings his arrows to his cheek once again.

    The minstrel fires eight arrows at Dezveraun.  Four of them miss, but
four of them strike true.

    Dezveraun grunts in pain, and feels a tingling wash through him.  He
struggles to move, but finds it harder and harder to feel his limbs.
Finally, he falls over, completely paralyzed.

    Daryth is declared the winner, and he flies about the Arena, absorbing
the cheers and the adoration of the fans!

    "Yes, yes, I love you!" he cries.  "I love all of you!"  He makes limpid
gestures and croons towards all his female admirers, circling about until
finally, one of the guards calls out to him.

    "Hey, get off the field, lover-boy!  We'd like to start the next fight
sometime today!"

    Reluctantly, the bard flies to the center of the Arena, takes one final
bow, then flies out of his exit, pumping his fists in victory.

Winner: Daryth
Damage taken, Daryth: none
Damage taken, Dezveraun:  24
Rounds taken: 5

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