Does practice makes perfect or dead practitioners ?

[Salem]

Salem actually didn't know how this one happened. It wasn't that he didn't remember asking the monk to do his monk thing and open up him a room. Salem just couldn't remember what lead to this. He wake up in a small room on the floor looking up at the nonexistent roof. Having a multitude of light fixtures shining bright down on him. The falmes dances across the wicks with in the glass covers. IT was heart felt by the fire user. Salem stood up seeing the walls only being eight foot away in all four directions.

The walls had large pointy spikes that looked rather unpleasant. Each looked long and thin enough to a kill a man or women with a single piece of the body. The length coming to maybe three foot and the base of the spike being four inches wide. THe walls were litered with these massive iron spikes everywhere he looked. The concrete floors had the cold feeling such that all concrete gets in the night. The only source he felt was from the wall light fixtures above. This was not cool to be trapped here. Of course he did not know how he ended wanting to be here but he did enjoy the citadel more than any other place in the world so he figured he would stay and see who or what walked through that shining green portal that seem to always make a appearance in the arena areas.

Salem still had his human clothing of a sweats and a hoodie. This along with his bright yellow eyes and silvery hair gave quite the shook to most. Yet, some didn't mind and that's what truly peaked his interest. So with nothing left to sway the interest of his mind he went to other avenues of entertainment. He begun to pull fire from the the top of the room and begun to dance withe flames. The calming and soothing practice. Some said it was made by the first of the element practitioners and others by the dragons of Althanas. Yet, he would never know the source but he did know the feeling he got from such.

His long hair was kept tight in a strings at his back to kept from being burnt as he swayed and moved with the flow and current of the push and pull of the flames. Turning and moving in circles like a practiced string along of movements. However; truth be told he just moved. There was no ideal reason as to why or where he placed his feet. So with the end and a calming peace about his person. Salem smiled as he would release the large fire into the world.

Instead, now he stood erect for what was to happen next. Fololwing the cuff of his sleeves inward. And checking the hilts of his weaponry. Salem would have a blast so to speak with this night time life of the Citadel.

[Zack Blaze]

The click of the key as it released the youth from his handcuffs was like music to the ears of Zack Blaze. The street fighter rolled his wrists in circles several times before he gave his guards a nod and turned to face the enigmatic door of the citadel. One turn of a knob was all it took for one to be warped into a land of hate and war. Most of the time, the warriors who frequented this building often let the sinister machinations of the monks minds formulate an adequate area for the fighters. The brawler knew that this time was more than likely to not be any different than all the others.

"See, this is why the Three Stock is a better fit for fighters," the smart ass youth remarked with a grin on his face, "Zack Blaze doesn't let the healers choose where people fight; that's up to the actual fighters. When I push this door open, it could be a volcano I just outright drop into or I could find myself in a stuffed toy factory. I really hate not being in the know, you know?"

The two elves that were assigned to keep the war prisoner in chains remained stoic and silent in their endeavors. They stood with hands behind their backs and the only indication that they heard the brawler at all was the fact that their pointy ears seemed to twitch at every syllable spewed from the dragon slayer. Zack shrugged his shoulders and patted one of the shade wearing guards on the shoulder. "Good talk, see you guys in a few hours when they decide to come patch me up."

He pushed the door and stepped through, the entryway instantly sealed behind him. The darkness of the chosen arena affected his pupils at first, and the youth took a moment to readjust to the night time setting before him. As he regained focused, he noticed that the walls of the battlefield were lined with long, dangerous spikes sharpened to the point that one could blow could run even the most well anointed armor through like scissors through paper. He smiled and cracked his knuckles as he looked down the street towards his opponent.

"A man after my own heart. Go big or go home, right?" he threw his arms up into the air as though he wanted to welcome his temporary rival into a warm embrace. There was a good thirty feet between the two of them and the lights that provided sight into the arena flickered on occasion. The street fighter began to bounce back and forth on each of his feet as he raised his fists up to his face. "The name is Zack Blaze, a name I really doubt you'll soon forget. To whom do I owe the pleasure of being a punching bag today?"

[Salem]

“Hahaha”, Salem couldn’t help but laugh at the words of the new comer. Oddly enough, Salem took a long glance at the arrival seeing that he was being serious. “Yea, I don’t think that will be happening”, Salem spoke in a tone that he often used. That sarcastic way he like most all guys his age. To be able to sound like an ass hat and cocky at the same time. Some would even say a bit of colorfulness with his taunts as well. Its a gift he thought.

He walked forward in the small arena and with no reason to his intention he sprang to his right using his ability springy feet. During the long jump he summoned his flames and unleashed a miniature horse toward his opponent. The flame made horse galloped toward his opponent in midair. Just as his creative distraction made its way to the appointed target Salem would duck under the flame. Just as it was nearing his opponent for connection maybe foot or so away Salem would jump up with the hopes of landing a upper cut. This would destroy his flame of course, but that was no worry to him. If at all poossible he could use this attack to lose down his opponent, at least Salem hoped so.

If landed great if not he would have to think of the something else. Salem of course sensed the strength of this fighter, but he couldn’t tell for sure how good he was tell well he seen it for himself.

Salem if he landed the hit would move a step or two away once again recreating space between himself and his opponent. Only to smirk and say “ So how is this punching bag idea working out for you?”

All the while he thought of one real goal at this moment. Before, Salem use to fight only to fight. There was no real goal under all the superficial crap in his life. Now, he couldn’t gave a complete reason other than he honestly just wanted to get better. More so that such ideals may not even matter; however, this was his goal for the times being even it was seen as miscellaneous ventures.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack raised an eyebrow at the horse shaped flame that hurdled towards him. The youth rolled his shoulders and waited for the fires to inch ever closer before he disappeared in an instant. As Salem advanced with an uppercut to follow up his attack, Zack appeared behind the youth. The street fighter's eyes widened as he watched his opponent's hand meet nothing but thin air. Wow, kid's got some talents. If I had just phased back where I was, I would have gotten a mouth full of knuckle sandwich.

"Still you," Zack replied to the taunt of his foe as Salem distanced himself from Zack's previous position, "in fact, since you don't have the courtesy to give me your name, I'm just gonna call you Punchy McInmyface. That ok with you, Punchy? Oh, and suddenly, ogre."

Before his opponent could react, a large black ogre appeared in front of Salem. His ebony skin was a stark contrast to the pearly white sharpened fangs of his smile. His attire was merely a brown loincloth that threatened to reveal everything given the slightest whims of the wind. The monstrosity growled not unlike that of a lion as he reared back and threw a haymaker straight towards the face of Zack's opponent. The intention was to send 'Punchy' flying into one of the deadly spikes that surrounded them. All the while, Blaze merely looked at his fingernails to check for any dirt.

"Huh," he spoke with a slight monotone, "I -really- need to get a manicure."