What a day for a contest! The streets are bustling with people, the
birds are singing their mating songs, and the weather is as could as one
could want. Neither to warm nor cool, with a hint of breeze to stir the
air. A few fleecy white clouds scud across the sky like clipper ships
carrying cargo to ports never visited by mortals.
The match today pits one sneak thief against another. This is more
likely to become a battle of cunning and intrigues, rather than spell
slinging or blades clashing. Two masters of cunning are to meet on the
field of combat today. One is an elf named Maleki, the other a kobold known
as Kreeshnik. Both vied for the same position in the rankings. As a
country may only have one king, so to the position only could be filled by
one competitor. Neither combatant had long records in the games, and so
betting was sparse, more a gamble than usual.
Soon a trumpet blast silences the boisterous crowd, giving the announcer
of the games an opportunity to present the combatnats and begin the contest.
"Today, Gentlebeings, we will watch what promises to be a most
entertaining fight. Coming from the north end, I present Kreeshnik the
Kobold." Boos go up from the crowd as a little Kobold, little more than
waist high, comes out looking less dangerous than many of the guards in the
crowd today to maintain order. Wearing a black cloak and clothes
underneath to match, the Kobold didn't look to be much of a threat. A
couple ioun stones buzzed about the little fellow.
"At the opposite end of the Arena, I present to you Maleki the Elf."
When the competitor Maleki stepped forth, fans didn't know quite what to
think. He certainly resembled no elf ever seen before. Those well traveled
in the realms recognized the monstrosity that emerged, however. Seldom seen
and always persecuted, the word mongrelman came to mind. For the elf, or
whatever he had become, had two heads like an ettin, though one faced
forwards while the other looked behind. From a somewhat bloated body
emerged six arms, and in each the elf-thing held a different weapon. The
more faint-hearted among the crowd let out a gasp at the monstrosity the elf
had become. He also had an ioun stone circling about him. Perhaps blades
would clash this afternoon after all, some hoped.
"By my words, let today's Games begin!" called out the announcer, having
seen far uglier than Maleki during his tenure in the Arena.
As the announcer finishes his final syllable, each man makes a slight
gesture and becomes invisible. A collective groan rises from the fans, for
except those in the Lord Mayor's or Judges Box, and perhaps some
spellwielders in the crowd, none could see what was going on. Sure, sooner
or later the two individuals would become visible, one more likely than not
skewered from behind through the kidneys or heart by the other. But until
the instant when that happened, the battlefield seemed as empty as the
desert.
As the seconds began creeping into minutes, some fans were on the edge
of their seats so as to witness the fateful moment. Others sat back in
their seats and prepared to witness a long, drawn out combat where most of
the action was a mystery. And the people who had been forced to purchase
standing room tickets began to boo and jeer as they shuffled from one foot
to the other, until the guards began making their way in the direction of
the most vocal critics.
Without any warning, an iron golem suddenly appeared in the middle of
the arena floor. Silently, it begins prowling about for something. A few
moments later, a stentorian blast of thunder louder than the arena trumpeter
sounds, and about fifty yards from the Arena center, Kreshnik the kobold
appears hovering twenty feet above the dirt floor of the Arena.
In the next instant the kobold flies forward and reaching into a pouch,
removes an object and hurls it forward into the air ahead of him. The ball
travels about 30 feet and suddenly erupts like a big puffball mushroom
bursting, expanding into a large set of heavy iron bands, which hang
suspended in mid air. After several moments, the form of Maleki appears
within the circular bands, struggling to break free of the entrapment. As
he strains mightily and the bands begin to bulge, the kobold makes a small
gesture and a lightning bolt blasts from his right hand into his trapped
opponent, causing blue lightning to arc and dance over the metal bands, but
otherwise doing them no damage. The elf is left charred and smoking as he
and the bands drop to the ground with a dull thud. The judges signal the
contest over, and with a spoken word from the kobold the metal bands
encircling the mutated elf disappear once more to become a small object that
he returns to his pocket. Looking up toward the stunned audience who had so
readily dismissed him, he made a typical Koboldic gesture of sticking a
finger in one nostril and blowing his nose at the crowd. He walked off
smiling while the crowd booed the short runt. In the mean time healers
hurried to the horribly charred elf. (
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