The Belly of Vesuvius

[Sorahn]

((closed))

Sorahn stepped into the famous Citadel. It felt like years since he had been here; far too long. He had become rusty. His muscles needed stretching, and his reflexes needed honing. So just as so many times before, he stood in the lobby, waiting on a monk to show him down one of the endless hallways to one of the countless doors that would take him to some bizarre place and encounter some random opponent. He loved the variety of the arenas that the monks created with their magic. They always kept him on his toes, and he had to be ready for anything.

A short man dressed in a brown cloak approached and bowed courteously. Sorahn returned the gesture, and the monk simply said “Please, follow me”. After weaving their way through the labyrinth hallways lined with endless doors, the monk stopped in front of one of the many heavy, wooden doors. How do they always know which one?

Unlocking the door for Sorahn, the monk simply said “Your opponent will join you shortly.” With this, he bowed again and disappeared down the hallway. Sorahn shrugged and opened the door.

He found himself standing on something like a large rock. It was maybe 15 feet across, but Sorahn was startled to discover it was floating in a lake of liquid magma. It gave of an orange glow and flowed slowly, causing the large rock to shift slightly; adrift on the lava. Looking up, Sorahn could see an opening through which the night sky could be seen. He was standing right in the middle of a volcano.

Scanning the rest of the area, he found that there were many rocks similar to the one he stood on floating about, extending all the way to a rock wall that formed the sides of the volcano. Suddenly Sorahn realized he felt surprisingly cool for floating in lava. Actually, the temperature was quite comfortable.

Sorahn peered over the edge of the rock to the lava below. It certainly appeared real. He spit into the lava, which promptly evaporated into steam with a hiss on contact. It was definitely hot. One misstep could spell a quick demise.

Just as he thought this the rock beneath his feet began to vibrate. Within a second the entire cave shook violently, with small rocks breaking off from walls and falling into the lava below. Sorahn was knocked to the ground as the magma made small waves from the tremors. He clung tightly to the rock as it swayed slightly, but just as quickly as it came, the earthquake was gone.

This will definitely be an interesting battle.

[Zieg dil' Tulfried]

A soft wind blew across the hilly landscape of Haide, the branches of the spotted trees swaying in the breeze. A group of small children were laughing and playing with a brightly colored ball, tossing it around to one another. Peace had truly come over the people who were formerly of the underworld. The demon race was finally at ease, for there was plenty of room for them to roam and glorious sunlight under which they could live their lives.

Several months had passed since the exodus to the surface had begun, and the cities were all growing nicely. Vla'toros was finished, the elven leader Dera'losta'nofa taking command and finishing the city situated in the mouth of the cave exit in record time. The city was likely the most defendable, as the only way into the city was through a massive gate that spanned the entire entrance. Thankfully, those gates were wide open, as no threats had yet emerged from this land.

Xaliel was also coming along quite nicely. The Demon Army headquarters was finished and the castle was about halfway complete. The stone masons were having trouble locating enough stone to build the castle and the massive walls with, so it was having to be shipped in from Haidia underground. Vla'toros was a great asset in this regard, as there were often numerous excursions to the underworld, bringing up supplies that had been left behind.

The Demon Army was in the best condition it had even been in, which was very pleasing to its High General, Zieg dil' Tulfried. They were working hard to aid in the building of the city, but had not neglected their training in any way either. This made Zieg's job very easy, and yet very boring. All he seemed to do everyday was meet with the young King Aidos and discuss security measures for the new kingdom, which was beginning to drive the demon warrior mad. So, he packed up a few things, donned his familiar blue and black titanium armor, and made the journey to Corone.

The city hadn't changed much since the last time the knight had been there. It was still a bustling metropolis with people running every which way to go about their business. Surprisingly, few stopped to stare at the familiar High General of the Demon Army, for they were too preoccupied in their own affairs. Nodding to the city guard as he passed by, Zieg made his way to the outskirts of the city, to the citadel.

The giant building still stood like a beacon of stability for all of the world. No one seemed to know how old it was, it seemed as though it had been there forever. Zieg made his way up the giant stone steps and through the entrance. A young boy stood waiting at the entrance, he couldn't have been more than twelve years old. He donned the monks outfit and motioned to the tall demon.

"Welcome, Zieg dil' Tulfried. You honor me with your presence. I assume you are here to exercise your warrior prowess?" The boy asked with an exceptional vocabulary. Zieg just nodded in return, a bit taken aback at the boy's age.

"Good. We have got the perfect battle for you. An old friend of yours." The boy turned and led the general down a hallway lit by torches. Zieg followed silently, pondering who it was that he might soon be fighting. The boy stopped at one of the numerous doors, opened it, and ushered the demon through. The knight stepped through the entrance and into the middle of a volcano. Across from him, crouching on the giant rock that he stood on, was Sorahn.

This will most definitely be a challenge. Yet, is that not why I am here?

[Koran]

"Hey, hey, Koran."

A hand reached out to tug at the cyborgs sleeve and the machine looked up from what he had been doing; looking at a news pamphlet on the progress of the civil war, as well as the other various wars around Althanas. He gazed lazily into the brown eyes of his companion Bernard for a few moments, noticing a not so strange glint of excitement and adrenaline in them, then returned his attention to the pamphlet.

"What Bernard?"

The hand tugged at his shoulder this time, pulling his body around forcibly at the waist so that he was no longer looking at the pamphlet but at the massive greeting hall of the Citadel. Hundreds of men, women and monks were moving about in the confines of the hall and from initial observation, the machine couldn't even begin to guess what the boy was looking at. A arm appeared to his left, pointing at something in the crowd.

"Don't you know that guy?"

The machine sighed and straightened his body so that he was now facing in the direction Bernard was pointing. He squinted at the crowd, searching for someone who would look the least bit familiar.

"Who are you ta - " Just at that moment a familiar face did appear. "Well, sonuvagun. I do know him." That familiar face, the one Bernard apparently knew too, although Koran couldn't possibly fathom how he did, was non other than Sorahn. He was talking with a monk on the far side of the room and was well out of ear shot and probably didn't even know Koran was there. The machine simply smiled and then looked at Bernard. "Good eye, but he's probably here on other business and probably doesn't want to be bothered. You could go say hi to him if you want too, I'm sure he'd like you." And with that, the machine once again diverted his attention back to the pamphlet and the news.

Fifteen minutes later, or so, he'd long lost count, a hand once again appeared on his shoulder and spun him around. Instinctively his hand balled into a fist and went straight for where his 'attacker's' stomach would have been, only the fact that he saw his attacker's face before he could strike, stopped him from following through.

"Dammit Bernard," the machine growled low under his breath. "What the fucking hell was that for?"

The boy only smiled and removed his hand from the machines shoulder. "Just wanted to get your attention, that's all."

"Well," the machine growled again. "You have it, now spill it, whatever it is."

The boy smiled broadly and pointed back toward where the machine had seen Sorahn some minutes earlier. "Your friend, I followed him."


"You what?" This time the growl was menacing. When he had said he could go say hi to him, he hadn't meant to track the guy down and stalk him. Bernard could have gotten himself killed by doing that.

"Followed, you know, trailed him?"

"I know what you mean," the machine growled. The boy smiled wider.

"And, well, the monk that he was following lead him to a door and when he opened the door there was a huge pit of what looked like lava, with a whole bunch of floating platforms like stones! I think he went into a volcano!"

"A volcano?"

Bernard nodded vigorously.

"Aaand you want me to do what about it exactly?"

Bernard's smile never faltered. The machine was beginning to pick up on what the boy was getting on about. He knew exactly what the boy was going to say.

"Well, I figured that you two being friends and all, and him being here in the Citadel and you doing nothing but read all day, I thought that, well, maybe you, and him, could um...Well..."

"Fight?"

"Yeah, fight."

The machine stared for a moment into the eyes of the boy before he shook his head. "No."

Pain and disappointment flooded onto the boys face, and his smile faltered a bit. "But, why?"

"Because I have no reason to."

"No reason t-What?! When the hell was the last time you needed a reason to do anything, much less fight?!"

"Just now." The machine reopened his pamphlet and started reading.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Good, now shut up. I'm trying to read."

Bernard spoke in a pitched voice, intimidating Koran's tone, crossed his arms and turned to stare out at the crowd.

A few minutes passed, Koran reading his pamphlet and Bernard staring at the moving crowd, when the fool boy again took a hold of the machines shoulder and spun him around.

"Look at that guy, he's fucking huge!"

This time it wasn't very hard to pick out who it was the boy was looking at. He might not have been all that large height wise, but he was certainly bulky and all it took was one look for Koran to know that that man wasn't any normal creature.

"Demon," was all he said.

"Demon?!" Bernard's voice came out as a squeak and Koran felt him back away a step.

"Yes, demon. Now shut up!"

There was a moment of silence and just as Koran got back to reading, the boys hand reappeared on his shoulder.

"You should fight him!"

Something snapped in Koran's mind and he threw down the pamphlet in frustration, rounded on the boy, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him up off the ground to come within inches of his face.

"Now what the fucking hell is your problem," he said loudly. "If you're so fucking eager for a fight, then you go fucking fight! I. Don't. Want. Too. You got that?!"

The boys smile only faltered for a moment when Koran hauled him off his feet, but by the time Koran was half way through his rant it was back and as strong as ever and by the time Koran finished, he was nearly laughing.

"What? What the fuck is so funny?" Koran shook the boy. "God dammit, answer me!"

"You're drawing a crowd," the boy said between wheezing laughter.

Koran glanced around at the steadily gathering crowd. He could see monks beginning to make their way toward him and the boy. He'd probably get thrown out if he didn't do something to put an end to this.

"Fine, I'll fight, but it won't be that demon. He could crush me like a fly. Oh, and by the way, you are a fucking prick!" Koran dropped the boy heavily to the ground, where he promptly fell to his knees, his whole body shaking with laughter. "A. Fucking. Prick." Koran then advanced toward the nearest monk.

"I'm looking for a Cat-like fellow. You just talked to him not a half hour gone. Which arena?"

The monk skittered to a halt, the other three monks following him nearly tripping over him due to his abrupt stop, and had to physically gather his wits before he could answer. "They went down the south corridor. Is everything all right?" His eyes fell on the still laughing Bernard.

"Fine, just make sure he doesn't wander off too far." He then pointed to a small, young monk. "You, show me the way if you please."

"Yes sir," the young monk said as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "Right this way sir." He then gestured for Koran to follow and just before the machine moved to follow he twisted and spat "Prick." at the still laughing Bernard.

*~~~*

It was just how he described it, a massive volcano with large floating stones scattered around it. Inside, sure enough, was Sorahn along with a rather nasty surprise.

Fuck, it's the demon.

Scary fellow isn't he.

What the - Dammit, I hate it when you do that.

What? Go silent for hours or days on end, then just suddenly and seemingly randomly appear for no apparent reason?

Yes, exactly that.

Well, can it 'prick.'

Fucker.

Koran stepped into the arena, without so much as a thanks for the young monk - he really wasn't in the mood for formalities - and planted his foot on the nearest floating stone. He should have predicted what happened next.

3 tons had a way of being rather predictable, especially when confronted with small, floating objects in a pliable surface such as molten dirt. His foot came down on the stone, then his weight came down and it kept going down. The sudden feeling of a slow weightlessness was the only thing that saved him from having a singed foot and even then it took him a while to finally find a solution to his sinking problem.

After hopping around for a few moments on his rapidly sinking stone, Koran finally thought that perhaps it would be best if he didn't stand on any stone, period and in the split second it took for him to leap into the air to avoid the rapidly advancing molten dirt, he transformed into his preferred and favorite form of an elf with wings. Hovering, in his own opinion, was so much safer.

You, shut up.

My lips are sealed.

Ha-dee fucking ha.

Koran crossed his arms and beat his wings at the air, silently holding a steady altitude as he wait for something, anything, to happen now that he had made his graceful entrance.

Apologies for length, mostly dialog.

[Ranger]

It had been quite a while since the drow had been in Radasanth, nearly a year, and yet nothing seemed different. From the steps of the Citadel the man watched the city mull about in its own unique and peculiar fashion. The only difference was that there were a lot more drunks, a lot more guards, and a lot more foreigners. Since the uprising of the cult in Fallien it seemed that refugees had been pouring into the Coronian country, trying desperately to escape the wars and death. But they would find little refuge and little solace in Radasanth. The city was a mess.

Civil war had sprung up since the last time Ranger had wandered the streets… a civil war that threatened the entire countryside. Radasanth was held firmly under the hand of the Corone Assembly, but it seemed that that only meant more patrols of more heavily armored guards. In the mere week that he had returned he had seen more fights in the streets, and not just at night. The problem was unnerving, and yet had the former cleric thinking.

The last time he had seen so much frustration and anxiety was when he had accompanied the great Red Hand as it had assumed control of the Bazaar. In that year they – he being a part of the powerful clan – had turned the world upside down with their demands. It had been a year of splendor and intrigue, only overshadowed by the increased prices of weapons and the increased profit of the raw materials. It was almost nostalgic.

Almost.

Now, however, people were not making money because of the anxiety. People were lost, humbled, and afraid. He had been gone too long, let the world change with the ever complex winds of time. Fates cruel hand had given to the people what he had fought to rid himself of… a wicked master who gave little and demanded much.

“Sir,” the voice was neither meek nor strong, but had an air of wisdom about it. Without even having to turn around Ranger knew it was one of the monks. They were armored in the times of turbulence, and armed with whatever weapon they chose to keep at hand. This one was no different. The prophet turned to see a young human, possibly no older than thirty, donned in layered robes fitted with studded leather and plates. At hand he commanded an impressive curved blade atop a long polearm. “We have found a suitable battle for your competence. There are multiple opponents already summoned to join you.”

~*~

Ranger sighed as the blinding white light faded and the arena before him began to come into view. It was a simple volcano, filled with churning lava and scattered platforms. He was on one, directly across from a man wearing heavy armor, and perpendicular to an old acquaintance and a face he did not recognize. Before him was the demon general, Zieg dil’ Tulfried, a powerful man who he had faced in the Lornius Corporate Challenge almost a year prior. The man was not guised, but wearing the full accoutrements of battle just as he had been so long ago. His titanium armor glinted despite its coloration, giving off an eerily orange glow. It was how the prophet had pictured him within the confines of Haidia.

The face to one side was familiar, if only by association. Sorahn, the master alchemist of the former Red Hand. Ranger had served besides him in common interests and goals, but had never truly experienced his fighting. He had seen the man working within Pandemonium’s Fist, but had never had the gall to bother him. From what he remembered the cat-like man was a rarity, a book smart and incredibly intelligent individual who took his art seriously. Being a miner, a profession that he always assumed to be lowly and inferior, Ranger had felt somewhat set back by the man.

But, on the other side of him, was a face that he did not know. He was the one, the only one, which the prophet was really worried about. It was a winged elf, hovering above his platform. He had the look of elegance and grace, like any elf, but his eyes spoke volumes.

It had been two long years since the Theater of War, and two long years since he had passed the test of endurance and battle. He only hoped that it fighting would once again come naturally and that his weary soul would not be his downfall. Since his last fight he had rid himself of a false god, assumed the role of a prophet of the Thayne, and given himself over to the gods of Althanas. Why he was even at the Citadel was a mystery to him.

“Pleasant,” he said with baited breath and a reluctant smile. As he waited for the name of the unknown fighter, or any sign of welcome from the other two, he passed his empty hand across his body. His clothes were ragged and worn, beat up from travel and conflict. His blackened leather jerkin, studded with mere steel, was also worn but still trustworthy. At hand was his weapon of choice, the prized and priceless monks spade. Its titanium head was glowing just as the demon’s armor did, but its metallic sheen let the light play across it far more.

[Sorahn]

Not long after the earthquake had faded, Sorahn was joined by none other than the infamous Zieg dil’ Tulfried. He and Zieg had met a few times in the past, which only made Sorahn more worried. He had fought Zieg before, and knew that he lived up to his reputation as an unstoppable force.

Sorahn tried to retain his confident composure. “Zieg dil’ Tulfried… it has been a while. I have heard stories of your adventures all the way here in Radasanth.” But as soon as he had offered welcome to his new opponent, another entered the arena quite anticlimactically. It was none other than Koran. The man he had fought countless times and who he shared so much history with. They were a rather odd pair. While technically friends, they had attempted to kill each other more than even the most bitter rivals.

A smirk crossed the Ranoan’s face when they saw each other. But just as he was thinking of ways they could team up against the much more powerful demon, they were joined by yet another newcomer. It was a drow that he recognized as a member of the Red Hand. They had worked together in Pandemonium’s Fist, but he hadn’t seen him in a long time. He gave the man a meaningful nod in welcome.

Seeing all these familiar faces made him feel like he was at some kind of reunion. How odd it was that they had all come together by chance. Still, despite their familiarity, Sorahn knew that every person here had come for one reason: to fight. While he felt mildly confident in his fighting ability, it had been a long time since he had engaged someone in combat, and he couldn’t recall a time he had ever taken multiple opponents at once. This will definitely be a true test of skill. Sorahn still considered himself a student, despite it being years since the abrupt end to his formal training. He was always looking for opportunities to hone his skills as a warrior, an attribute highly honored in his society.

He knew that the battle would have to start soon, so he began surveying the situation. His opponents stood (or flew) in a sort of circle, all facing each other. He noticed another rock behind him that he could jump to in case of a surprise attack.

He kept an alert eye on all of his opponents, and gripped his spear tightly. He noticed another rock floating directly behind Zieg, and he considered leaping over him in an attempt to attack him from the air, but that wasn’t his upbringing. He thought it more honorable to give his opponents ample time to prepare, even though that was more likely to cause him harm.

“Well gentlemen, we all know why we are here.” Sorahn said finally. He threw off his red robe and let it land on the rock beside him, revealing his many ceremonial tattoos on his chest and arms. He slid his legs out into a sturdy fighting stance and raised his spear to the ready.

“Shall we get on with it then?”

[Zieg dil' Tulfried]

The sound of the bubbling magma lingered just below the thoughts of the demon as he prepared himself for battle with the Ranoan. However, it appeared that the monks were not content with simply allowing him to decimate one opponent, sending two more into the room with him. The first Zieg did not recognize, a human male. He had blonde hair and eerily black eyes. Not that Zieg could say anything about eyes, for his were blood red. The second was a drow, and a drow that Zieg did indeed know. Ranger Nailo had fought against the demon in a tournament some time ago, though Zieg could not recall where or which tournament that had been.

Zieg quickly edged his way from the two new entrants as Sorahn drew his weapon. The last thing he needed was to be between three warriors, with his back to two of them. Sorahn seemed eager to begin, and he felt ready himself. The demon knight slowly pulled his osmium blade, Gamygym, from its sheath at his waist. He left his other blade, Rohtan, tucked safely away on his belt.

Without a word, Zieg nodded to Sorahn, saluted him with the Demon Army salute, his right arm across his chest, and charged at the Ranoan with both hands on his blade. Zieg left no time for pleasantries, no time for witty banter. It was time to let his blade do the talking for him.

He carried remarkable speed for a person his size, his demonic strength carrying him across the arena. About three feet in front of Sorahn, he planted his right foot into the ground, stretched out with his left foot and planted it about three feet in front of his right. Zieg then stabbed his blade straight at Sorahn's chest, using every ounce of force that he could use from the forward motion of his run.

A grin slid across the demon knight's face. I've been cooped up for way to long. It feels good to finally be able to stretch my skills to the limits again.

[Koran]

Aye, that we do.

No sooner than did the Ranoan relieve himself of his robe, than did the Demon charge him with his massive blade. The cyborg spared them little attention after that; their targets had been picked, and now so had his.

The fourth man the enter into the volcano arena was akin to only one other person the cyborg had met, fought or otherwise conversed with. If he remembered correctly it had been during a Theatre of War match, and he had been suspended some eighty feet above a wide canyon by a rope and wood bridge. It was an interesting fight, with little room to move for either combatant and although he ended up killing his opponent, he was later judged as the loser. He was still uncertain as to why he lost - a kill was a victory so far as he was concerned - but he could do little to argue the matter. He ended up scoring in the top fifteen in that tournament, so he was content with the score. That man had been a Drow elf, cursed eons ago by some crude twist of god like humor, forced to live their lives in darkness, forsaking the sunlight they once so adored. This man, was of the same species.

And if he's anything like his cousin, he'll be a slippery one to corner and kill.

Then why aren't you attacking?

I'm not ready.

Not ready? You've been ready. You've always been ready. You're ready every second, of every day! How the hell are you all of a sudden not ready?!

I'm waiting!

The cyborgs body twisted in the air so he could better view the spade wielding Drow. An interesting weapon, that spade. Not exactly the cyborgs preferred choice were he to be given one, but still, a rather intriguing choice all the same. He unwrapped his arms from each other and lifted a hand to point to the Drow.

Because of his relative need to hover - else sink into the boiling mass of liquid rock beneath him - the cyborg was about fifteen or so feet off the ground. This made his position a very advantageous one, as it was harder to hit someone who was above you than it was to hit that which was in front of you, or below. All he need do was sweep in, knock his opponent from his slab and be done with him. The molten rock would take care of the rest. The he could focus on the other two, maybe even take a clean sweep of the arena.

You serious?

Damn sure I am.

No wonder you die so often.

The cyborg didn't bother to reply to the inner voice, he'd stop listening by that time. His fingers curled back and left only his pointer finger extended.

"You there, Drow." That was all the warning he gave.

There was a great snap as his wings came down, catching the warm air of the volcano into their folds and his body launched forward toward the Drow.

You know, all things considered, I don't think you should have warned him.

The distance between the two combatants closed, the cyborgs altitude dropped to just below seven feet and right before he passed over the top of the Drow, he reached down to take a hold of the mans silver maned head. The plan, simply knock him off balance and tip him into the lava.

Why do you say that?

No reason.

[Ranger]

The competition had been weighed and studied. Ranger felt like the odd man out, not having any true association with any of the others. From the look of face to face, they all had seen each other before, whether friendly or not. The drow’s thin lips parted in a peculiar smirk nonetheless. He had come to test his fighting power, his physical endurance, and the three present seemed more than enough for that.

“Which to choose?” the prophet thought as he looked from person to person. Zeig he had fought before, but it had been a match between pairs. The demon’s partner had been a monumental human named Letho, and the drow’s had been a goofy elephant. Sorahn he had been around before, but had never seen him fight, much less had any interaction. The flying elf was the only one who he was not sure about, his abilities and name were completely unknown. “I suppose I will simply choose whichever chooses me first…”

Cowardly? Ranger did not think so. He was not a rash, reckless individual as he had once been. His head was cool, his mind was in a state of ever-present calm, and his reaction time would easily make up for his defensive nature. He watched, intrigued, as the demon saluted and charged the neko, leaving only one other unoccupied.

Instead of watching them, he turned his attention to the other. It was rising, shifting, getting a better position. Ranger did not doubt that the thing would flutter down on its elegant wings, taking advantage of its ability to fly. However, the man held no weapons of which to attack with.

Ranger readied himself as the thing fell. He did not move from his lackluster stance, holding the spade gently in one hand and his other resting at his side. His silver eyes looked into the deep black of his opponents, and he let the smirk turn into a smile. It was not incredibly intelligent, to say the least. It was moving quickly, diving towards his position. Ranger commanded the use of a pole arm, a good weapon for charging opponents, and knew full well how to wield it.

As the man approached within reach of Ranger’s weapon, the drow moved. He parted his legs to a half split, the edges of his cracked boots reaching the edge of his platform. As soon as it stretched out its hands he twisted his body and dropped to his back. With a good deal of force he stretched out with the spade and aimed the broad head directly for his opponent’s side. He was not looking to kill, but to maim, to eliminate the opponent’s ability to fly and reduce him to nothing more than a pretty face with no weapons.

If his aim was true he would only scratch the man’s torso, but the blade would pass high enough to knick its wings. The task was troublesome, and required both precision and split second timing. The drow did not want to give up his prowess with magic yet, however. It was an often overlooked and underestimated boon. If he could eliminate an opponent with his pure strength and honed skill alone he would do so, keeping his powerful spells in reserve until the very end.

[Sorahn]

Sorahn returned the nod to Zieg, and remained steady as the demon came crashing toward him. In the few moments before his imminent death, he quickly scanned the demon for any sort of weak point in his nearly invincible armor. Sorahn had neither the strength, nor the weapon to pierce his full plate titanium armor.

Finally the demon was upon him, and thrust his blade toward him with incredible force. Sorahn managed to parry the blow with the length of his spear and step to the right. He then swung his spear toward the only weak spot he could find, Zieg’s face. Assuming his blow landed, it would probably kill the demon then and there, but Sorahn wasn’t counting on it.

He leapt over the demon and landed gracefully behind him. Spinning, he tried to land a blow with his spear to Zieg’s back, unable to tell if more titanium armor resided under the long cape. A feeling of futility washed over him as he realized that he would probably be unable to deal any damage to the demon, and would spend most of his time simply dodging attacks and attempting to stay alive for as long as he could.

However, he hadn’t forgotten about his two other opponents. He attempted to keep a sharp eye out for them as well, lest one attempt to attack him while he was off guard. As a matter of fact, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. This is a free-for-all, after all.

Turning his attention from Zieg for a split second, he turned to his former comrade of the Red Hand, Ranger Nailo. The drow had managed to skillfully avoid Koran’s attack by squatting into a split, but he was unprepared for another attack.

Sorahn swung his spear toward the drow to try to land a quick hit. But rather than follow through with some other combination of attacks, as he was known to do, he instead decided that even that moment of distraction was too long and returned his focus to the demon, knowing that a counterattack must be coming.

He hoped that his quick attack on the drow would cause a bit more confusion and chaos in the arena, but he feared he may have simply gained another enemy. At this point it didn’t matter. He wanted a true test of his skill. Winning or losing was not the objective.

Sorry about that Ranger, just trying to keep it a real free-for-all. ;)

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been waiting for over a year. If you would like to complete it, or work on it further, you can PM myself or another staff member and ask for it to be moved. However, till that time, it will be resting in the Citadel Archive forum.

Thanks,
~Task