Working their way through the stands today are priests, rather than
bookies. A few dozen people, apparently all the victims of poisoned food,
lay here and there among the spectators. According to those in the know,
this poisoning is the first indication that Zichlar (the evil demi-god who
rules the nation to the south-west named after him) has indeed turned his
eyes to Saberhaven. Rumors have been circulating that he may have tired of
his assualts on Kalbese, and planned conquests elsewhere.
On the sands of the Arena, the vendor responsible for the poisoning
dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding the tentacle that sweeps in. Gripping
his dagger, he lunges for the displacer beast, but misjudges where it's true
position is. His dagger swings through empty air and he stumbles. Limping
from the gash in his leg, caused by the bony protusions on the displacer
beast's tentacles, he readies himself for another attack.
As the beast's tentacles sweep in at him, he manages to stab one with
his dagger. His small victory is short-lived however, as the second
tentacles tear across his throat, ripping it open. As his lifeblood spills
out, he collpases to the ground.
A blue beam shoots from one of the side doors into the Arena, freezing
the displacer beast in place. As the priests finish taking care of those
who aren't too far gone, the beast and the corpse of the vendor are dragged
out of the Arena. With a half-dozen dead, the man's shade will no doubt be
called back to answer questions.
As the guard quietly carry away the bodies of those the priests were
unable to save, the announcer declares the next fight. Another in the
mini-tourney to fill the ranks of the Top 50 fighters, this fight pits
Borosk of the Disciples of the Stormhawk against Ivor, the svirfneblin
warrior who has yet to be defeated.
First to enter the Arena is Ivor. As in previous battles, the warrior
appears as little more than a gray blur, vaguely discernable as a gnome. As
Borosk enters at the other end of the Arena he says loudly, "I see there are
two disciples in this tourney. I aim to put that right." With that he
brings his bow up, an arrow nocked and ready.
Borosk enters the Arena covered head to toe in armor, from his black
armor said to have been made from a dragon's hide, to the magnificent,
gem-studded helm that rests atop his head. His matching scimitars rest in
their scabbards at his waist, and his cloak billows out behind him.
However, he doesn't have time to respond to Ivor before the announcer
gives the signal to begin. Ivor releases his arrow, sending it flying
across the Arena. As it soars, a duplicate arrow appears next to it. It
looks like he aimed high though, as both arrows soar through the arrow a
couple feet above his opponents head, narrowly missing the glittering stones
floating there.
At the announcer's signal, Borosk utters a word and his ring flares,
sending a light pulsing up his arm to his face, where it seeps into his
eyes, setting them glowing briefly, before the light fades.
"Something will change in the tourney today." Borosk replies, "Two
Disciples, and no gnome." With that he draws his scimitars and starts
running toward Ivor.
"Curses," mutters Ivor as he moves forward slightly, pulling once more
on his bowstring, an arrow suddenly appearing. "So you think I'll fall over
dead when you look at me, then?" he asks of his opponent. "It's possible,
but I doubt it."
As Borosk races across the Arena, Ivor launches arrow after arrow at his
foe. Mystically, a duplicate arrow appears beside each of them as they fly
across the Arena. As his quick-moving opponent covers the distance between
them, Ivor's arrows fly at him. As they continue to go a couple feet above
Borosk's head, it becomes evident that the fighter is not the target.
Two of the stones circling Borosk's head burst into powder as the
gnome's arrows hit them. As Ivor pulls back for another shot, he suddenly
curses as his sleeve gets caught in the bowstring, ruining his shot. At
about the same time, Borosk, who by this time has gotten to where he is only
about 90 feet away, pulls himself to a stop. The sunlight glints off his
armor as he slams his wrists together, producing a deafening crash. An
almost visible wave of sound rushes forward, straight for Ivor. However, in
it's wake the gnome shows no sign of discomfort.
Glaring across at his opponent, Borosk's eyes flash, sending forth a
killing ray of green energy. Although Ivor ducks to the side, the green ray
still slams into him, sending tendrils snaking all along his body. As the
light fades, there is the distinct smell of burnt flesh, but with his
outline blurred, there is no way of telling how badly injured the
svirfneblin is.
"Well? Do you like the gaze of the Stormhawk?" Borosk shouts while he
raises both scimitars and runs at the gnome. As has been seen in his rapid
crossing of the Arena, Borosk is obviously being aided by magic to help him
move quicker. As he closes the distance, bringing him within melee range,
his eyes flash once more. This time however, almost as soon as the green
flames reach Ivor, they fade away into nothingness.
The small gnome, seeing the armor-plated human bearing down on him, goes
into a defensive crouch, though his hands remain empty of weapons. Seconds
later, Borosk reaches him, scimitars sweeping in. Ivor tries to grab one of
the incoming scimitars. The blade slams into his hand, causing him to pull
it back, but draws no blood. Ivor's hands ball into fists and slam forward,
but they are apparently deflected by Borosk's armor, as evidenced by the
metallic clanking each time the gnome's fists connect.
At the same time, Borosk's scimitars slash repeatedly at the gnomes
body. It seems impossible that Ivor could have dodged them all, but after a
score of attacks, not a drop of blood has been spilled. It looks like
Borosk got him with the hilt a couple times though, as a few bruises can be
seen on his head.
As the two combatants continue the close melee, Borosk's eyes flash once
more. The green flames leap at Ivor, burning into him. Trying to focus
past the pain, Ivor continues his assualt. His hands continue to pound at
his foe, though seemingly to little or no effect.
Simultaneously, Borosk's scimitars flash in spinning arcs, coming in at
all angles to attack Ivor. In the stands, it is hard to tell if any of them
are hitting. One of the attacks is ruined when Ivor actually grabs one of
the scimitars. Another can be clearly seen arcing for Ivor's neck. Though
it hits, and scrapes across the svirneblin's throat, the scimitar fails to
break the skin.
"You have strong magic protecting you," says the gnome, "but your
skill is low. I may not be able to harm you now, but we can find out
what's been done, and I'm hardly finished yet."
As Borosk's scimitars continue their lightning-fast attack sequence,
Ivor's feet lift off the ground. The scimitars slice in, again scoring hits
but drawing no blood. As Borosk pulls back for another attack, Ivor reaches
out with one hand. However, before the gnome can score a hit, one of
Borosk's scimitars sweeps across, knocking Ivor's hand to the side.
As Ivor, his feet now about three feet off the ground, continues to
rise, Borosk's eyes flash green as they release their fire. The gnome
grunts as the fire washes over him, but pushes aside the pain. His hand
punches out again, but is again deflected by one of Borosk's scimitars,
which then sweep in to attack again, and though they still fail to draw any
blood, it is evident that they are causing Ivor some pain.
Ivor by this time is almost seven feet in the air, and as Borosk
stretches to continue his attack, one of the gnome's hands goes to his belt,
retreiving what looks like a table-tennis paddle, though it's hard to tell
for sure due to the blurring effect surrounding the svirfneblin.
Ivor swings the paddle, and a round crystal (about 1" diameter),
trailing a string, flies from it, straight at Borosk. The crystal bounces
off Borosk with no apparent harm done, and flies back to Ivor. As it gets
to him, Ivor hits the crystal with the paddle, sending it flying back at
Borosk. Although this attack too fails to harm Borosk, the third time there
is a crunching sound as the crystal slams into Borosk's chest.
Ivor, slowly continuing to rise higher into the air, retrieves a second
paddle from his belt, and quickly sends two of the large crystals flying for
Borosk. Though he tries to dodge to the side, he is a bit too slow, and
both of the crystals slam into his back.
The crowd watches as Borosk reaches to the ring on his right hand.
Suddenly a shimmering field appears around him, settling over his armor.
Spinning around, Borosk's eyes flash green as the killing fire again springs
from them. The mystic flames race for Ivor, but wash over him with no
apparent effect.
Glaring up at his foe, Borosk watches as Ivor's crystals again fly at
him. This time though, they bounce off without effect. Attacking again,
Ivor watches as his weapons again fail to harm his enemy.
As Ivor replaces the paddles at his belt and reaches for his bow, Borosk
grins up at him and touches a gem which hangs from a chain on his neck. A
soft glow washes over him, healing bruises as it goes.
"Not bad my little friend." he shouts. "However, you can start all over
again now."
Ivor, seemingly ignoring the taunt, begins rapidly send arrows raining
down on his foe. Although the shots are dead on, the arrows are deflected
as they reach Borosk, richocheting off to the sides with no damage.
"Well, THAT is a good idea." Borosk grins as he pulls a large bow from
his back.
Ivor laughs. "You are predictable, and rely on baubles rather than
skill." he informs his opponent. "You may yet prevail in this contest,
but at least I have shown your weaknesses." He then swoops in to
continue his attack.
By the time Borosk has his first arrow knocked, Ivor has flown to within
a few feet, and brings his paddles back into play. Once more the stones arc
forward, only to bounce off without effect. After the first pair of attacks
however, Ivor stops his assault, instead focusing on dodging Borosk's
attacks.
With his foe too close for him to use his bow, Borosk moves quickly to
retrieve his scimitars. Within seconds he has them out, and slicing at
Ivor. However, as before, although they manage to hit, they fail to cut
into the gnome. As the blades continue to slice in, there is heard a loud
popping noise, followed by a groan from Borosk. At the same time, his
attacks stumble, then stop.
As Ivor continues to send the magical stones lashing forward, Borosk
grins at his opponent. "Speaks the flying one with the magical field. You
continue to call me weak. But if I defeat you, what does that make you?
Defeated by a weakling?"
With that Borosk launches himself into another attacking frenzy. While
moving slowly, his scimitars still weave a mesh of death around the gnome.
Although it looks like both warriors are skillfully using their weapons,
neither seems to be having much effect on his foe. The stone richochet off
every time they hit, and the scimitars still are unable to draw even a
single drop of blood.
Ivor flies away from his opponent, then stops briefly. "No, not
defeated by a weakling," he says, "but by those not present here. I
would be the last to think myself too good. Life is all about
learning. Today I have learnt something. Personally, I hope others have
learnt something too. We shall just have to wait and see.
"But that is for another day, and I'll leave you to fight that battle
then." With that, and a signal to the judges acknowledging his defeat, the
gnome turns and flies back to his entry doors.
Muttering something under his breath, Borosk watches the gnome walk off
the Arena floor, then turns to the crowd, raising his swords in the air, the
blades shining like silver in the light of he sun. "In the name of the
Stormhawk I dedicate this battle to those who have fallen to foul poisoning
while waiting for a fight in the Arena."
"Poison." he speaks the word like he tastes it. "A word which is foul in
itself. The Stormhawk would never allow such a thing to happen. Know this,
good people of Saberhaven. The Disciples will stand besides you during this
time of trouble. If there is ANY way we can stop these atrocities ... we
will try!"
With that the fighter walks away.
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