Flavour of the Masses (OPEN to level 1 characters)

“I am the Ranger-Slayer of One-Arrow Hill! Scourge of the Insurrectionists! Your...”

He paused for dramatic effect, turning in a full three-sixty so all of his adoring fans could soak in his glory.

“UNDEFEATED! Master of the Citadel. I AM CELCIUS MARIAD!”

The crowd thrummed in anticipation, deafening. Concessionaries moved throughout the gathered plebeians in the stands, making record sales on popcorn and salted goblin-ale.

Forgoing the uncanny magical power of the arena – to create any stage one could conceive in their wildest dreams – Celsius and his powerful publicist opened an event to the citizens of Radasanth who desperately sought a distraction from the strife that plagued their lives. A great dome was opened to the air, and a circular battlefield with tiered marble bleachers and a sandy gladiatorial pit, gleamed in the sun as if the gods themselves were invited to watch the spectacle.

It wasn't free of course, and many people in noble's garb stood to gain a lot of money that day. As did Celcius Mariad.

He postured for the masses, working his weapon in practiced sweeping patterns with emphasis on the great strength required to wield the mighty greatsword. He stuck the weapon into the sand, not unlike Excalibur itself, and walked a pace, his hands pre-emptively in the air in triumph of the day. He roared for them. They roared back. Radasanth, and all its adoring people; his one true love.

He swept his black cape to the side in a flourish of motion, and addressed his unrevealed opponent for the benefit of his fans. “This is an open challenge to anyone! Come fight me, for the wanton entertainment of the beauteous people gathered here today. Come forth, and throw yourself upon my blade, for their amusement! Bleed, as my tribute to THEM!” the crowd roared again, and maidens wept away their excess emotion.

“Or, will you, in your heinous cowardice, hide in your heroes holes, and wait for the great storm to pass, unsatisfied?”