This was not where had in mind.

Ulrich arrived in the arena as much as he had left his previous location. Standing on black steps which led to a lone archway of the same black material. Ulrich examined the scene around him and found the contrasting smoke and stone around him sent his head into a slow spin. Suddenly, before he could steady himself he was crouched low fighting a wave of nausia. whatever method which he had sent to this place did not sit well with his inertia. The smoke swirling around his ankles, and the death which surrounded him did little to ease his suffering.

The smoke drew his attention and as he steaded his breath, Ulrich ran his hand through the substance, letting it flow through his fingers like sand. The disembodied colour flowed downwards, spreading out and dissipating eventualy as it did so. Down the room, flanked by pillars of granite and waterfalls of hypnoticaly slow and silent smoke seemed to repeat and streatch on forever. It probably did, beyond the walls, Some planes of existence were simply eternal with nothing in them, playgrounds for the first to find them.

The movement of smoke and shadow kept catching Ulrich's eye. Putting him on edge. Danger rang out in his mind and adrenaline filled his blood. Golden sparks of magic started to jump erraticaly between the tips of his fingers. Burning air. Snap. Crackle. Silence.



Strike first.

There was someone else here. It was a fight. A competition. Judged. Ulrich had to be smart, quick and resourcefull to win anything here. There were ace's he kept close to his chest, but that was common. Everyone had a trick and his own might not be special enough to get him anywhere yet. He needed an Idea. He needed the beginning of a plan.

With a controlled breath Ulrich took in his surroundings again, the way he had learned.

Bones. The dead are left here. It doesn't mean your demise if you lost.
Weapons. Nothing as good as his own blade as far as he could see in the smoke, but it was good to know.
Smoke. Some of the thicker streams were wider than himself.

Strike first.

He crouched, just a little and moved towards his hiding place. Keeping his ears open as his eyes would fail him. Magical energy started to coalesce around Ulrich's upper arm down to beyond the tips of his fingers, wrapping it in a magical Gauntlet he would charge forward with. The tips came to a finite point and congealed. His arm a great articulated blade.

The smoke fell around him, silent and scentless. The debris of the dead scattered the arena. He crouched in his predatory spot. Waiting.

Strike first.