In the Maw [Closed]

[Ioder_Horvat]

Closed to Nosdyn.

Ioder Horvat awoke suddenly in the maw of a raging volcano. All around him, amber flares of magma and incinerator-like heat. He looked upward and above him was a billowing cloud of hot ash and the faintest flicker of daylight peaking though the blackness. His skin began to stick to his leathers as he poured buckets of sweat. Beneath him was a large stone platform magically suspended in the air, defiantly refusing to budge an inch. The stage was rectangular in shape stretching about forty feet across and its perimeter was lined with large razor sharp titanium spikes. The half-elf marveled at the magics of the citadel and their monks.

He found himself wondering how he got into this mess.

It was a long and laborious journey back from the western coast of Corone. The island nation always seemed so small until your forces to travel across it on foot. Ioder had no idea how his companions had faired in their endeavors, and for what it’s worth he didn’t care anyway. He had just escaped the deepest prison in all of the land and for the first time in a long time Ioder was free. He could do without being an enemy of the state and the massive bounty on his head but it is what it is. Naturally as any battle hardened veteran would do after reaching Radasanth Ioder when straight to the battle spire, or the Citadel, and registered for a fight.

Arcs of magma flared upward from the pool below, striking the spikes and splashing onto the stage and splattering near Ioder’s feet. The tolerable temperature of the fighting arena became deadly forcing him to stumble awkwardly to the side as the spatter burned his heel. He was beginning to find it hard to see thought the bright vibrate colors all around him forcing him to squint. Maybe it was a design flaw or was he overly specific when he described the specifics of the arena to the monks. Regardless of the case this would eventually prove to be a very big issue.

He shook his head and scanned the surroundings. Across the stage was a faded silhouette, but it was hard for Ioder to clearly make it out through the rising heat. But there was something about him that made the Half-elf feel uneasy, like as if he was talking to his master. He shrugged off the feeling for the time being and drew one of his twin blades from its’ sheath. As he wielded his opal blade, iridescent runes illuminated down its length. He raised his sword pointing the tip of the blade to the spector and called out.

“We don’t have much time here before we both collapse from the heat,” he spoke the truth, for himself at least. “So I’m not going to waste any time here.”