[fan_83]

When the sound came, it was loud and piercing. But he was already focused on its enemy, or its prey. Padding forward, it and its opponent studied one another as they close the distance between them in a slow measured pace. It decided to utilise its base form until it gets close enough to disembowel before it shifts its tail and paws. As they move, it could see its prey eyes tracking him and its one solid appendage is keeping the sharp grey thing between them, while its ghostly arm is at its side, balancing its body. Time seem to slow, the world shrunk, until there is only the pit, itself and its prey, as they come within striking range, they start circling one another, no one wants to make the first attack, less they over commit.

Time for a surprise it thought, as it charged, it shifted, soon its fair is gone and the alligator skin cover it from snout to its former tail which is not a scorpion stinger. It has also shifted its paws into bear claws for better traction and slashing damage although it has sacrificed some of its speed and balance. It knew it looks like a freak but it was the fight that matters and the quicker it wins, the sooner it can get a mate. As it rushes in, it could see the eyes of its prey widen in surprise and its scent was filled with fear. Moving in close to swipe with its left paw, its prey is still fast enough to doge the strike, but not fast enough to avoid its stinger which went into that ghostly arm. Its movement was fast enough and its form was disgusting enough that its prey did not think of fighting back. As it disengaged, it was surprised to find that its stinger is very cold and that its prey does not seem effected by the poison.

It seems the prey is more formidable than expected; it has two weapons, the sharp grey thing and a warmth sucking arm that cannot be injured. As they circle again, its prey has already beginning to cope with its form and is beginning to gain confidence, moving in to strike again, the prey also attacked, with fangs, claws and stinger at the ready, it kept its eye on the prey’s appendage that can cause pain. With a leapt that is impossible for any other creature, it was soon moving in fast towards the prey’s upper body while its grey thing was still pointed down as it was expecting a low strike. As it closes in with fangs and claw, the prey somehow manage to get its grey thing in its way as it blocks its fangs from a clamp at the throat, but the impact sent him reeling, as it sets in with its claws to rake and disembowel, it could feel the leather starting to give way, as its fangs were that close to its preys face. As victory seems so imminent as the leather covering the pink creature was finally torn, and it managed a light swipe at its belly, it could feel its warmth being sucked from its right haunches as it could see the preys ghostly arm moving into its body and causing great pain. With the cold slowing its movement, it pushes off and disengages. Hoping to get enough clearance to feel warm again before the next clash.

As it stalked around trying to get its right haunch warmed up, it could see its prey getting up to its feet and checking for wounds while preparing himself for another clash. IT could see that the damage it inflicted was light, just some light scratches, if only it has thought to shift its claws into talons and puncture its prey, the fight would be over. But its thinking and instinct is still that of a wolf and wolves don’t have talons. Circling one another once again, it knows that a flat out struggle that is akin to a wolf taking down its prey is not plausible as that ghostly arm will not allow it to engage for a long period of time. It can only slash and run, hoping to hamstring its opponent. As it crouches down stalked closer, its prey has begun weaving its grey thing in front of it, trying to track it. IT decided to bait its prey into an attack. Moving in and out, weaving through and fro, it watches as its prey starts to predict its movements in order to track it. Deciding to honour its prey, it maintains its patter of movement and its prey strikes. With the speed of the spitting cobra, its lunge was fast and targeted towards its snout, thinking it was the weakest part of its armour.

By just crouching a little more, and moving to the left, it managed to get out of the way of the grey thing but it could feel the sting as the lunge of its prey was too fast to be evaded completely and the grey thing was too sharp as it manages to score a cut all along its right flank, parting its armour, but the pain was worth it as it was now within reach of its prey and leapt, moving in with its fangs wide, the prey’s ghostly arm moved into view, and it decided to just barrel through in the hopes of getting to the jugular. It felt the cold moving though its muscles and bloods, as its body collide once again with the prey, but this time the ghostly arm of its prey was in its belly causing tremendous amount of pain while its grey thing was flailing harmlessly along its back. Moving towards the jugular, its paws scores more scratches along the body of the prey, but its unimportant, the end is near, it could smell the blood of its prey as it moves in. Then pain exploded in its hindquarters and it felt itself being sent flying over the jugular of its prey and it tumbled into an undignified heap. Getting back up it would seem that its prey has tried to knee him in its balls, hard. As its prey started to rise again, with yet more light scratches along its legs, body and face, it could still feel the cold ghostly arm moving around inside its belly trying to find something.

As it charged in again, before the prey was fully upright, it could see the panic in its face and determination. As the distance closed, it watches as the prey tries to bring its grey thing and ghostly arm to slow it down, but it was out of position, with another barrel rush, it moved in and got a leg that was a bit slow to be retracted. Its fang manage to get a hold of that limb and as its unchecked rush spun it around and onto its back, it still kept a death grip on that limb trying to find a major vein. As it kept chewing it could see that grey thing moving in towards its unprotected belly

[drinksinbars]

All thoughts of his Brothers were extinguished when he saw his opponent cross the sand at such speed. Its form was like liquid, shifting and morphing at will. Kaal wasn?t sure what he was seeing at first, for it seemed to alter its body at random, flickering between the merged shapes of massive predators with purpose. He longed for the hawk again, at least against that he had seemed to have a chance. The shape shifter though offered him none, for it struck at him with stinger, talon, claw and fang. On top of that, the thing weighed an absolute ton, and if not for a lucky blow to the creature?s nether regions, Kaal knew his throat would have been torn out in their first tussle.

He was sent skidding backward across the sands and struggled to regain his feet, but the creature bounded in one awesome leap and clamped down on his leg with its massive fangs. He screamed in pain as the two of them rolled through the sand, sending up clouds of dust as they went. He bit down on his pain, using his anger to bludgeon it into submission. He felt his body lift off the sand as the creature?s momentum sent him hurtling through the air.

He came down hard on his free leg and felt something pop in his hip at the impact, yet he kept his footing, as he stood poised above the beast. The creatures belly was just below him, and unlike its flanks, here there was a soft covering of fur. The pain was excruciating and Kaal reacted solely on his natural survival instinct as he drove down with his sword toward the unprotected belly. Somehow the creature sensed the movement and Kaal saw up close as thick scales suddenly appeared to thwart his attack and send his sword-point skidding into the sand.

The attack was hard enough though for the creature to release its grip on his leg. Kaal hopped away from it, his vision whiting out as he went into shock. He felt something buffet him from behind even as he was falling forward onto his face. He felt pressure explode on his ankle again, but this time it was a jerking motion that caused it. The world spun upside down and Kaal found himself suddenly dragged through the sand face first before being lifted, spluttering and cursing, into the air. The sudden pain seemed to give him a burst of adrenalin, but he had dropped his sword as he was lifted into the air and despite a wild swing of his good arm he could not reach it before it feel beyond his grasp.

Fighting against the terrible g-forces he managed to raise his face against the wind to look into the underbelly of the beast as it flew upward. The ground seemed to be falling far below him and he knew with certainty that the creature meant to simply drop him to his death. He was gripped by a terrible fear, for he had never enjoyed heights and the sight of the ground so far below was quickly destroying his will to live. The urge to simply close his eyes and to await the inevitable was so tempting that for a brief second he let him self yield to its seductive freedom.

?Fight, Brother!? came a voice in his mind.

Kaal felt new strength infusing his body and reaching up, grasped the talon that held his foot with his good hand. It took a few swings but he managed to pull himself into an upside down crouch. The shifting of his weight must have alerted the creature for it squawked in shock and swung its gaze down upon him. He met its eye and smiled, just before ramming his ghost arm into the joint of its wing and sending them both plunging earthward in a shower of blood and feathers.

[fan_83]

As it gained height in peregrine form, it would enjoy dropping its prey onto the sands headfirst to its death, but he shifting of the weight and the strain in one of its talon alerted it to the fact that its prey has somehow manage to grab hold of its talon with its appendage and it watched with horror as the eyes of its prey seems to glow for a moment before that blasted ghost hand went into its wing joint. The pain exploded along its joint and caused it to lose its rhythms as it starts falling downwards, and at the height, they will both die. As they started falling, it automatically clenched all of its appendages to block the pain, and somehow, its talon which held the preys ankle shifted and grated of its bone causing the prey to writhe in pain. As its ghost hands went out of its joint, it could spread its wings and caught an updraft which slowed their descent to the point where, when they finally crashed on the ground, it wasn’t fatal.

As it lands half on and half its prey, it could feel the bones in one of its talons being smashed by the weight of its prey, and the pain caused it to shift back to its base form. As it quickly rolled away from the prey and starts to compartmentalised the pain in order to finish this fight, it found that one of its hind paw is too injured to have weight put on it, and that one of its shoulder is too sore for it to be trusted in the fight due to the ghost hand. As it pantingly took stock of its injuries, and cleared its head, it saw its opponent do the same; the prey was also gathering itself while looking for the grey thing which it dropped earlier. As it looked around, it could see that grey thing in one of the corners of the pit which is closer to the prey than him, but luck is with him as the prey still haven’t manage to locate its weapon, and as it limped forward, in its natural form, it found that due to its injuries, it could no longer shift its paws, but only its fur to alligator skin. IT has to finish this quick as the situation is to its advantage as the prey only has one weapon left. The prey seems to have trouble moving as one of its legs seems to be connected differently than the other. But its movement alerted it, and the prey brought its two appendages up to block any attempt of it to attack.

Although the prey is bleeding profusely, it does not have the ability to wear it down due to blood loss as the need for the tist, is nearly upon it, the healing sleep of its kind. It must finish it before he collapsed and become easy prey. The eyes of the prey seem to have a glow that wasn’t there before and there scent of fear is warring with relief as the prey knew something that it doesn’t. But thinking if for later, instinct demands blood. Moving into a limping charge, the distance closed, and the prey crouched as well. When they collided with one another, it has managed to get its fangs around the arm of its prey while the ghost hand is in its chest, and as the ghost hand starts to surround its heart and stopping it form beating, the shock overcome the pain and it immediately scrabbled away, still with a mouthful of the preys flesh. But the pain of it has taken its ability to shift at all. Its armour shifted back to its original fur. And even though it only has one blood wound compared to its prey which is covered with blood, it knows that they are both at the limit.

It must find a way to end this fight without going near that ghost hand. The one advantage is that its still mobile in a limited way, while the prey is unable to move. As it limped around the prey towards its grey thing in order to kick it further away from the prey. It saw, the prey diving towards the grey thing and it charged with everything it had. Somehow the prey managed to get its bleeding appendage around the grey thing before its fangs made contact with the torso of its prey, sending both bodies rolling in the sand. As it clamped its jaws down, it felt the physical pain of the grey thing sticking into its flanks as well, as it tried to twist and tore a bigger chunk out of the prey, it felt the ghost hands moving around in its chest.

[drinksinbars]

?Where am I, brother?? asked Kaal. Everything was eerily still, and he could only vaguely feel the sand beneath his feet. Of his opponent and the crowd there was no sign.

?I?m sorry, my Brother, but you are near death. There is little I can do but save you from the pain. I was unable to breach their barriers in time to aid you. Please forgive me.?

Kaal watched as his better fell to his knees before him. ?Please Brother, rise. You are not to blame for my own failings. I should have done better, I should have held on longer!?

?But the pain, Kaal, I can feel it even across the multi-verse! How you are still sane is a mystery to me!? wailed the One.

?The pain is my own concern. Send me back, Brother, I would see this ended.? The One smiled, and the world became a thing of searing agony and crushing pain.

Warm hot, fetid breath blasted against his face, and Kaal?s eyes snapped open to see the jaws of a massive beast trying to tear his arm off. He could feel its weight pressing him into the sand, and he was finding it hard to breathe with the pressure on his chest. The bones in his broken hip were grating against each other and sawing at the muscles of his belly. It felt like the wolf was trying to bite through his arm to get at his neck, for the bones seemed to be bending at the centre under the powerful jaw muscles of the beast.

He had to get it off before he passed out again, yet every time he thought he was shaking it loose, it snapped its jaws shut again. Wave after wave of agony spread up his arm and into his chest. He could feel, and hear, his own heart hammering like the clappers in his chest as it pumped his blood onto the unquenchable sand. He could feel the beasts heart on the tips of his fingers, but its weight lay across him and kept him from raising his arm far enough to cause it anything more than discomfort. There was something else though, something more on the edge of awareness. He could sense something and it felt alien in his mind. There was a sense of desperation, a desperation that was not his own. He caught the beast?s eye, and the moment seemed to freeze.

The scent of high mountain air and forest streams in a long and cold winter filled his nostrils. He raised his muzzle and howled to the Goddess Arses in thanks for his mate and cubs that stood proud and free behind him raising their voices in chorus to his own. The sense of loss and grief, made the memory bitter and painful to watch, each moment clawing the soul. Images of death and pain flooded his mind and he staggered back under their onslaught.

Kaal tried to stand, but his hip was near destroyed. The wolf had dragged itself away from him before letting loose an earth shattering howl that sent ringing pain through Kaal?s skull. Absently Kaal noted the silence in the stands. Using his sword as a crutch, Kaal dragged himself to his feet, favouring his one good leg, even as he had to fight off a sense of nausea, and the rising tide of bile in his throat. Looking down at himself he could see a score of wounds, mostly claw marks and punctures that had stained the sand around his feet, crimson. With his ghost arm he reached up and dragged the tattered remnants of his cloak off his shoulders. He wasn?t sure what the wolf would do, but he knew if he waited any longer he would die of blood loss.

As if sensing his thoughts the howling stopped and the beast stared at him across their short distance, in its eyes was a look of profound sorrow and longing. Kaal reached out with his mind, but his telepathy was too weak without his Brother?s influence, and he knew that only physical contact could re-establish his link to the wolf?s mind. He had gotten other things from their meld though, a hint that the desperation was indeed the wolf?s own fear of something just beyond Kaal?s understanding.

The wolf padded slowly toward him, its legs dragging and its head seemingly not able to stay upright. It looked almost sleepy. Kaal sank to one knee before it, as his leg gave up and his arm was no longer strong enough to keep him standing. The sword fell out of reach, and he watched it thump into the sand, sending little mushroom clouds of dust into the air. He could have wept at the futility of it all.

He could feel the breath on the side of his face, and he turned slowly around to look it in its eyes before it killed him. The nostrils flared as they sniffed the death upon him. Jaws as big as his head snapped shut millimetres from his nose, and the lips curled back in a throaty snarl. He lifted his hand, placing it gently against the beast?s neck.

Images flooded his mind, followed swiftly by emotions and dreams. He could see himself through its eyes, and could feel the frustration and grudging respect that it had for his resistance. He could sense something otherworldly in its heart and knew it too had felt the touch of some personalised deity. One thought came to dominate above others, an image more than a word, though Kaal sensed it was also a word, ?tist?. Kaal forced his will upon that word, pushed it deep down into the wolf?s mind.

It sank to its haunches and Kaal watched as its eyes slowly closed, one and then the other. He brought his ghost arm up and fanned his fingers as wide as they would go until his ghost hand hovered just over the wolf?s skull. Slowly he pressed his fingers into its flesh while his mind repeated the word over and over like a mantra in its mind. There was a jarring sensation as his fingers pierced the beast?s brain. The sudden pain almost broke the link, but slowly the images began to darken and he knew that the beast was dying. He was just allowing himself a smile as the beast?s eyes flared. His hands clenched spasmodically, one around fur, the other in the beast brain, even as he felt his own throat torn away. The powerful jaws closed tight against his spine and he felt himself falling into darkness?

[Shinrei]

Quidolgio's entrance scene. I will write the first post of the fight later.
---------------------------------------------------------

The crowd hushed, following the introduction of the... blood demon. The Lords in the upper box turned to witness the entrance of the competitor. Bemused, they watched what looked to be a tantrum taking place. The man with the impressivly long mustaches was jumping up and down, waving his arms, until finally stalking over to the edge of the arena to summon an usher. The usher leaned out over the railing as the man called up to him, too far out of earshot for the Lords to catch what he was saying. Seconds later, the ushor was running up the steps, making his way towards their esteemed box.

After speaking softly to the guard outside of the box, the usher entered and spoke. Slightly out of breath, he said, "Esteemed...um... sirs." Lord Malarion waved his arm lazily and stated, "Go on, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well...the, erm, competitor is complaining that....ahh.... he can't hear his theme music."

"His what?!"

"Well, yes...he says he wants the band to strike up his theme music. 'I'm sure they know it' he says..."

"Good man, is he not aware that we do not provide a band for this event!?"

"Sir, I'll mention it to him sir." The usher took off back down the stairs, threading his way throught the crowd back to the railing where he hailed the man again. The mustached man didn't even turn around, but instead made a rude gesture into the air and blew his mustaches out with a violent exhalation.

The crowd, becoming restless began to chant for the competitors to get on with it.

Suddenly, Lady Pink Wolf of Winter leaned forward and exclaimed, "Whatever is he doing!"

In front of thousands of deathmatch revelers, the world famous Quidolgio had lowered his breeches, and was pissing a square in the dirt around himself. "Goodness!" The Lady exclaimed, "You can see his shaft from all the way up here!"

After a good two minutes or more, the breeches were pulled up, and the competitor had finally deemed it necessary to draw his twin cutlass blades. The deathmatch announcer, who had been watching, flabbergasted, decided that he should probably reannounce the match.

"The blood demon's foe.... THE THE AMAZING QUIDOLGIO!"

[Shinrei]

The announcement having broken the moment, the "blood demon" charged.

"Goodness!" Quidolgio whispered to the crab as the behemoth creature sped towards him.

The beast loomed larger and larger, bearing down in an unstoppable charge of fury. A tremendous otherworldly howl burst forth from the creature's lungs, bringing a startled hush over the stadium. Nothing could possibly withstand such a roiling, frothing, barely contained chaos of muscle, bone and flesh rending appendages, all bearing down on a single bony man with long mustaches and a crab on his shoulder.

So of course Quidolgio did the smart thing, and side-stepped.

A flurry of dust arose as the beast dug into the earth, and with horrifying quickness changed the momentum of the charge into a pursuit of Quidolgio's deft move. But of course, he hadn't merely sidestepped. Oh no, he never stopped moving. Each whirl, twirl, skid and slashing sidestep caught only air as the wirery little man never stopped moving, always one step ahead.

Finally, as if by mental cue, both paused from their dance and took stock of their situation. The creature from far flung galaxies unknown, looked down on the man from his 12 foot height, with a kind of righteous anger deep in its gaze.

Within the pause, Quidolgio plunged his cutlasses into the earth, and took a step forward. "I thought y'beasties took notice o' a man's pissed out territory! If I'da known this t'would be an uncivilized match where we ignore such sacred silver linings, I would've saved me a victory piss for after, when it be much more satisfyin'! What kindo natural world are we commin' to when wolves and bears and beasties don't care that I had all those extra cups o' tea..."

Muttering to himself he adjusted his leather gloves and pulled his cutlasses free of the earth.

Looking up again at the hulking brute whose eyes glittered brightly, Quidolgio suddenly shrieked, the sound high, thin and wavering and nothing like the otherworldly majesty of the creature's howl. Inanely shrieking without pause, he began whirling his cuttlasses.

And with no further ado, by his standards at least, launched a head-on attack. Sod and rocks flew in the small maelstrom as those cutlasses became just a whisper of light in the air, almost ceasing to exist during their defiance of the elemental forces of air and gravity. And as Quidolgio closed, the cuts, slashes and rents began to appear in the creature's fur. Blood sprayed and red muscle parted. Only the beast's own uncanny speed kept it from becoming a ragged mess of hide splashed with blood and sinew.

But for those who doubted that this thing had intelligence were sorely mistaken, and those who believed it merely a vehicle of carnage were rudely awakened. For amidst that bladed whirlwind, there came a pause.

The creature caught first one cutlass in its giant paw, and then the other, and without pause drew Quidolgio inward and into the rising knee, where stunning raw animal strength blended with perfect timing and placement. Flying back and landing, sprawled flat, Quidolgio spit out mouthfuls of blood and bile.

The relentless creature closed in a flash, picking him up by the head and flinging him half the arena away to land in a scrawny pile, cutlasses tumbling from both hands.

A howl of triumph, and a full hush fell over the crowd. The sheer savagery and skill released by both competitors was acting like a cold wind, sobering the stadium. Pennets at the top of penny-seat crows nests snapped as this cold wind of primal blood and carnage swept across the dusty stadium.

When the creature looked back he saw Quidolgio standing, calmly twisting his mustache in one hand, holding both cutlasses in the other. He grinned, brought his hand down and switched the second blade into it. "Fancy that....O' course I was right again." With a smile in his eyes and a nod towards the crowd he continued, "Ignore these lordlings who see you as a mindless demon. You have an opponent before you who seeks to understand what you really are. And with these cutlasses we'll do just that."

[Valgard]

This pink thing, so small and insignificant, or so he had thought on this he was wrong the creature was almost insubstantial like the wind. Every time he tried to reach it, it twisted and slid out from between his talons. It stung to, the twin blades that it called ?cutlasses? had torn a gouge in its upper arm and another along his side. Luckily the side one had glanced of his ribs so hadn?t penetrated to deep, but his life blood was slowly draining from the wounds.

Rugh knew that he had severally under estimated this creature it was indeed challenger worthy to hone his skills against. In the lull that had descended now in the fight as the two combatants faced each other Rugh made the traditional gesture of apology to Quidolgio for having thought of him as another pitiful pink thing. He then howled out his respect for the adversary and announced that this fight would be fought till one could stand no more.

Now that ritual was done he advanced cautiously, knowing the speed with which Quidolgio could move. He held his arms out wide hoping to draw Quidolgio in to attack him as it was only when his opponent was close that he had a hope of catching it. Quidolgio though would not be drawn and stayed firmly out of reach.

The crowd was getting tired of the circling and started to demand blood. Louder and louder the chant grew ?blood, blood, blood?, till it echoed round the stadium reaching up to the night sky filling the bowl with the crowds insatiable need for violence. Rugh looked up to quickly scan the spectators to see what had driven them so wild.

In that moment of inattention Quidolgio seized his moment. He hurled himself between Rugh?s legs slicing outwards trying to hamstring Rugh. As the blades of his cutlasses slashed outwards, moving with such blinding speed that all anyone could see was flash of light, Rugh hurled himself sideways stopping the blades from hamstringing him, but not from slicing their way deep into his flesh.

He rolled to his feet then stumbled slightly as he put weight on his injured leg. There was no time to assess the damage for immediately the cutlasses were on him again seeking to open him up to discover the truth inside him. As Rugh desperately fended off the flashing blades he searched for an opening.

Suddenly the way forward was clear in his mind. Allowing a cutlass to slice him on the forearms he sprayed blood directly into Quidolgio?s face momentarily blinding him. He used the distraction to grab Quidolgio and hug him to his chest. As Rugh started to pull him close aiming to crush this small thing to pulp against him, he felt a sharp pain in his chest as somehow Quidolgio had managed to move his sword down and was using Rugh?s strength to drive the blade deep into Rugh?s chest. Roaring in pain and confusion Rugh hurled his opponent far away where he landed with a crash.

Again the two combatants faced each other across the now blood spattered sand. They stood there breathing heavily trying to see which one was going to act next.

As blood started to run from there wounds, the crowd went wild cheering and crying out ?Blood, Blood, Blood?.

[Shinrei]

Quidolgio coughed some blood out onto his hand and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, mindfull of the mustaches. "Ooof... I havn't had a hug like that since that wee lass at the Dusty Bean nearly took me skin off." Coughing again, Quidolgio eyed the hulking creature. After the previous clashes, he had a good gauge of its speed, and for now was staying a ways out of range to assess his wounds. "Blech... me insides feel like someone moored'em to a windmill and let go. Somehow, I don't think I'll be taken spicy food n' rum for a while. Half a week at least."

Despite a mere half a tick passing, the crowd was getting impatient. Its unison cries of blood were beginning to tatter and scattered boos could be heard.

Quidolgio raised his voice and addressed the beast. "You're a magnificent one, despite your ugly mug, and raging loony eyes. I wish I could take a truce with you, and fight those jackasses over there in the stands instead." Quidolgio took one more moment to flair out his mustaches, and then said simply, "But there isn't no glory ?n that. Let's finish this, for glory and fame and, well, more fame n' all that comes with it. That's all that's important there, isn't it now."

Quidolgio frowned, wondering why the beast was so long in attacking. It had not lacked for desire before, and it was obvious that it was losing far more blood than he. This pause would only quicken weakness and muscle failure, and this was no fool of an opponent.

But now, he saw what it had been doing. A new gleam, appeared in the beast's eyes, from no external light that Quidolgio could see, as it revealed two long red blades equal to the creatures height and mirroring Quidolgio's own. The stadium viewers in the front rows swore to anyone they knew afterwards that they could actually see the creatures blood continuing to flow and pulse within the blades themselves.

Quidolgio breathed, "Now...that's not fair."

The attack that came was swift, red blades biting from all directions at once. Quidolgio?s own blades met them stroke after stroke, and they raged back and forth. There was no doubt the creature was stronger, and it continually pushed Quidolgio back. A singularly vicious reversal of an overhead strike forced Quidolgio into a half crouch, half splits, and the following downward blow nearly took him in two. Yet again, his speed and agility matched the beast's strength, as he twisted and rolled between the creatures legs and sprang back to his feet.

The beast whirled and charged, blood blades driving with singular purpose for Quidolgio's life. And in that precise instant, on the razor edge of timing between life and death, Quidolgio slipped under the dread blades and drove with all the force his muscles could muster. Blades slid into flesh, and the beast howled. In pain and with a mighty sweep, the beast whipped its torso around,sending Quidolgio flying once again, blades sliding free as he fell in a heap to hear already broken and fractured ribs cracking again. Now something was wrong with his left hand too, it was quickly going numb.

Rising up on his right elbow, he saw the creature down on all fours. Both were breathing hard and both knew it would take a lot of will just to continue the fight. With a wry smile that became a grimace of pain, Quidolgio breathed, ?Of course? I meant it wasn?t fair for you. I?ve lived with these blades all my known life. Those red ones?. are impressive, but they?ve known no glory.? He stood. As he did so he heard, rather than felt, the cutlass drop from his left hand.

Tightening his grip on the other, he watched the creature rise again, fighting through the wounds and bloodloss. And again, by way of that singular connection that fellow combatants have, they flowed into the attack simultaneously. It was far from over.

[Valgard]

As Rugh rushed forward his blood following liberally from all his wounds, he knew that he did not have much longer to defeat this creature. He shifted his weapons from the twin blades that this creature had shown surprising efficacy in handling. To the long spear that had served him so well in the past. He thrust forward using his incredible strength and speed to focus the attacks to strike swiftly and continuously. Again Quidolgio twisted aside throwing his blade against the spear. Again and again Rugh thrust at him forcing him back to the edge of the arena. Suddenly it was there. Now was the time to strike. Using every once of strength remaining in his body he thrust forwards. The force of the blow shattered the wall of the arena causing it to crumble bringing several spectators down into the arena. As the dust settled Rugh could see no sign of Quidolgio.

Pausing to mourn his foe, he caught a scent on a breeze it was subtle and hard to detect, but it was there. He span to see Quidolgio standing behind him covered in dust with small stones embedded down one side of his body swaying slightly, but still he stood with that terrible blade held out steady in front of him. “That was close but you have to be faster to catch out ol' Quidolgio, now shall we resume”.

Rugh was drained the attack had left him with nearly nothing to keep on going. But he knew that he couldn't surrender now. If he did it would condemn his people to destruction at the hands of the demons. There would be none left to continue the war to fight what was coming. He could not let that happen. With a roar Rugh leapt towards Quidolgio, his determination burning away the pain and exhaustion.

Again the two combatants flowed together their weapons colliding with a clash and away till they came together again. The two fought across the arena their blades ringing out, echoing against the walls. The spectators could not see the weapons move so fast were the blows they were like bolts of lightning flickering out, with every touch generating a thunderclap.

The crowd loved this display of skill from the two warriors they had been going for 5 minutes straight now with neither one seeming to be able to score hit against the other. Suddenly as they had begun this dance the two separated. They stood facing each other barely able to stand breathing heavily.

Rugh knew that they were both nearly drained they had fought with everything they had. Suddenly the voice boomed out again. “See what we bring for your entertainment, is this not a match worthy to be performed for the gods themselves. Are they not entertained! I believe they are, so let them know that we too enjoy this spectacle.” At this the crowd erupted once more in a frenzy of excitement roaring their bloodlust to the stars, just as he moon just appeared over the lip of the bowl that was the arena.

Rugh raised his muzzle to greet Lunis howling out “Lunis now is the time strike down the voice that had defamed your holy warriors and your chosen people, strike now and enact revenge for all our kind.” As he howled out his cry light streamed down from the moon and struck the box where the voice came from. The crowd fell silent stunned by what they had just witnessed. All that could be heard now was a sound like that of someone having their soul torn from their very body piece by piece and then slowly torn to shreds.

“Why don't you just do that and be done with this, if that is what you can do?” asked Quidolgio slightly surprised.

Rugh just looked at him and shook his head. “You are to worthy an opponent to fight like that. That is the punishment only reserved for the worst sinners in my people.” He growled.

“ I am glad that wasn't me, sounds nasty that” as Quidolgio winced at a particularly loud scream. “Anyway lets get on with this death and glory stuff. Glad you finally bothered to talk by the way.” he said gesturing with his blade, nearly falling from exhaustion at this movement.

At this the two returned to circling each other. Both were ready to fall, but both were to proud to do so.

They both new that these would be the final blows of the fight and the winner would be decided upon in these moments.

Rugh knew that Quidolgio was the faster and more agile of the two of them. He new that there was only one way left to defeat him, it was risky, but he had no other choice. He changed from the spear to a sword, a long red gleaming weapon, wickedly sharp. With that he leapt to the attack. The blows flew thick and fast in both directions, but rapidly they slowed as their last reserves were drained. Rugh let his guard down for moment trying to shift his weight. Quidolgio seized the moment with a cry of triumph as he rammed his sword deep into Rugh's chest. Rugh had been expecting and hoping for this. He grabbed Quidolgio and forced him against his chest, crushing the life from his opponent, even as he fell to the ground, done. Still embracing Quidolgio. They lay next to next to each other one with massive arms around the other. The other with his hand on his sword pushed right through the first one. They lay still.

The crowd waited with baited breathe to see which was alive and which was dead, who was victorious and who was defeated...

[dessembrae]

Kahmul had spent his time travelling from town to settlement not really sure what to do. Very few people were willing to talk to a man whose clothing was in tatters, covered in tattoos smelling slightly of ash. Those that would maybe overcome their fears at that sight, thoroughly paled at the knives adorning his body. Two belts crossed his upper body, a further belt wrapped delicately round the left thigh. The most cherished, in a decorated scabbard was slightly larger than the others. It had a serrated edge that just sceamed out pain.
Kahmul entered a small tavern, he noticed the plaque outside - the dying ember - thats a bad omen if ever I saw one.
Upon scanning the room he realised there was only the barkeep in the place. "Where is everybody",Kahmul enquired taking a seat.
Barkeep squinted through one of the glasses he was polishing, making his eye look disturbingly bigger. "There all at the fight aint they, who wants to drink when theres killin' to be ad!"
"Where is this place, close by?"
"Not far lad, follow the road round the corner and from there....... well you can't miss it."
Kahmul was almost boiling over at the thought of this. Finally the place I've been looking for, now everyone will know...... faith.Just as Kahmul made to leave, the barkeep through a bottle at him, "take this lad, al never sell it, an anyway looks like you could do with a good drink." Looking at the bottle it was a very dark colour. He guessed it must be a licqour due to the syrupy thick look. Tucking the bottle in his tunic, Kahmul carried on his way with renewed vigour.
The chanting was heard even before Kahmul was in sight of the monolith arena. He approached now with some appprehension but this was his destiny. He had to keep going. A gatekeeper moved in his path and before he could speak Kahmul made his move. The knive went straight under the chin, the man groaning as he hit the deck. The other gatekeeper first eyed Kahmul, he saw no pupils in those pits only a dull red glow. "Um... after you, kind sir."
Kahmul now saw another man in the centre of the arena. He wore an acquard fitting uniform, shades and had an even more peculiar bag at his side. Hmmm, these foreigners really have some bizarre tailors.
Drawing out another throwing knife, he ran it along his tongue. Flames suddenly danced along the blade. Only sparing a glance before throwing he let fly. The other man turned at the last possible moment, the blade narrowly missing his head. It did however knock of his shades which shattered on the dusty floor. The man placed another pair on his face. It looked like they came from the sleeve of his uniform. "Oi, they weren't cheap you know." the man bellowed. This seemed to be the precurser for the fight to come, both men were ready. One with a hand hovering over the bag, the other feeling the cool handles of knives in his hands.

[dessembrae]

Kahmul stared across at the other man, only just recovering from that blow to the stomach. breathing forced, erratic he couldn't work out.What was in that bag!This called for a distraction. As long as he continually attacked from range, he would get nowhere. It's not that I have a clear cut strategy, but I'm beginning to tire of this dance.

Kahmul hurtled two blades at the mocking figure, knowing he would parry them easily. Whilst blocking the man didn't realise why his opponent gave a slight wink. That was all it needed to manipulate the flame from a ringside torch.Twisting, writhing it headed straight for the mans back. He turned just in time, bag up in defense to take the bulk of the pressure. One tendril licked round the side of the bag, streaking up the right side of the mans face. Shades fell away as the man clutched and grabbed mindlessly at his face, cursing and screaming.
Purify.

Shaking his head as if to try and let free the pain, the man came at Kahmul with a new determination. Swinging across the chest, Kahmul ducked but straight after a swing from behind the head brought the bag rushing down. Too quick. An outstretched arm was all he could put in the way.
Crack, Pain, such pain.
The right arm hung loose now, pain lancing from the twisted limb. Forced to kneel, Kahmul tried to get himself together. Before he could react, a fist connected with Kahmuls jaw sending him right on his back. Dazed , he now heard a voice, "recorded delivery, flame bitch! Sign here." He stamped on the remnants of the once good arm.
Foot twisting.

Kahmul, tears streaking down his cheeks through the agony let out a piercing cry. Whisps of smoke rose directly from the small rivers of tears on his cheeks. He only now, close up took the measure of the man. Face twisted, flesh and blood melding, there was a smile on that face. He had lost some of the composure he had but was all the more menacing for it.
Gods, what next!!

[dessembrae]

Reeling, Kahmul took a step back after the elbow to the face. The other man was heading straight for the bag and he couldn't allow that. The ground around him had already been gauged with flame, the large stone shattered into hundreds of pieces from the impact of the bag. His only option, i'll never reach him in time. This may just work. Plunging his hands into the rubble and sand, the arms sparking to life he began to focus only on his opponent.
The ground now shook. Streaking forward, stone and sand lifted and thrown regardless as a crack and welting fissure hurtled straight for the other man. He gave a brief glance as the very earth opened behind him. Jumping and landing in a rollhe just missed the towering, pulsing snakelikeflame spiral underneath the bag. The bag began to rise, the pressure between the two forces was immense. It seemed the bag was fighting back. Too much in the end, Kahmuls arm was finished. Pulling his hands out, smoke enwreathed he watched the twisting, roilingflame die away, the bag tumbling into the fissure. Sparing a moment, Kahmul looked down at himself. The tattoos were fading to a dull grey. Thats not good!

This was it, Kahmul could see the other man now, shoulders hunched breathing heavily. Both were almost done. Last reserves of will and endurance fading. Both men ran head on, blind to the folly they were aspiring to. They came together in an acquard grip of each other, neither one wanting to release. The other man, peering with his one good eye just grinned as he drove his head at Kahmul. Connecting with the bridge of his nose, once, then again, and again. He was moving blind now, the pain searing all across his face. All he could do was push. The two men now falling, rolling became a blur. Blood, sweat, sand coming together in a strange tapestry of madness.

Kahmul heard a crack, from in his tunic. Cool liquid all over his chest but also a sharp stabbing pain. The bottle, thats right, typical I could've done with a drink Their momentum carried the two right into the gaping crack in the arena. Crowds on their feet now watching, waiting in anticipation.
Kahmul looked on as the other man desperately clutched for the bag. Hanging precariously on a ledge it was just too far out of reach. Hmm, one saving grace this day. Calling one last time, one last flicker, anything. Like a prayer answered, one of Kahmuls hands lit up. Too quick though, it blazed out of control. The liquid on his body, caught light and before their very eyes both men were wreathed, engulfed in a blazing hot inferno. Gods, it's maybe a good thing i didn't drink that stuff!

The last thing Kahmul felt was a knife being driven into his chest. The other man laughing as they plunged ever downwards. A keen eye may have been able to discern a portal opening in mid air. A key glinting from the mans sleeve..............

[Illuyankas]

In one of the VIP booths, open roofed under an overcast sky, Wynn drank heavily from a tankard he had been proffered earlier, and tried in vain to reassure his host. After the drama of the previous matches, neither contestant had appeared at their scheduled times, and the leader of the pair who had approached them back home looked somewhat? agitated.

?WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS HE!? He says he?ll have a quick visit to the beach, thirty miles away, and he took off without transport? Even a horse? And the match started ten minutes ago? I?m doomed. Doomed! I?m going to have to dig up all those orphans from before to pay off Kidney Stevocles for the loan, not to mention tha- don?t panic, don?t panic, he?s an exceptional assassin trained to kill very well, to a strict set of constraints including time, he?ll be here for the matc- I?M NEVER TRUSTING A GINGER PERSON AGAIN!!?
?Don?t worry, my friend. I?ve never known Kelehedemon to be late. Well, late enough that everything goes horribly wrong. More than five times. Erm, where?s the door??

Dejected, the acquirer looked over the amphitheatre, across the crowds of gawking idiots, to the bloody patches of ground being resurfaced for his crushing gambling losses. He truly believed the lanky buffoon was his best chance to win, but only if he appeared on time! Turning back to Wynn, he began to speak, halted at the huge grin upon his guest?s face, and spun back. The clouds above the battlegrounds were spiralling inwards and down, culminating in a tornado whirling down towards the ground. Suddenly it, and the clouds, burst apart, leaving an immense blue hole in the sky, and a figure emerged from the tattered remnants of the twister, a straight-backed figure spinning, slowing now to a gentle turning as he began to approach the ground. Not once losing his posture, the man?s descent slowed, until he was stationary, tilted forwards for some reason - knowing Kelehedemon, probably to look cooler, the acquirer had never known a more pretentious man - and coming in to land. The nearer to the ground he got, the more dust was blown away, revealing the myriad of bloodstains and cracks that riddled the arena floor. The amphitheatre was full of excited murmurs, clapping and cheering. Smirking enormously, Wynn turned to the ecstatic acquirer and said, ?See? No transport needed. Your bets are perfectly safe, I guarantee it!?

Two seconds later, Kelehedemon dropped fifty feet face first onto the arena floor.

After the collective wince from the audience, Wynn turned to the acquirer, and, abashed, said, ?There is a small point we seem to have? neglected to inform you of.? At this, the acquirer turned to Wynn and, in a strained voice, asked, ?Wh-What? What did you not tell me about?? Peering closer, he realised that he?d not seen Wynn without an expression of joviality on his face in the weeks the four of them spent travelling through their dump of a realm. But now, he looked embarrassed, red-faced even.
?Er, just that Kele, is? kind of narcoleptic.?
?Narcoleptic.?
?Yeeeeees.?
?He fell asleep in midair.?
?Yes.?
?And judging by the doctors walking away from his corpse, he?s dead because of it.?
?Oh, he?s not dead. He?s just not breathing.?

A bang signalled the opening of an arena side door, and a troop of soldiers came out with a body and a large amount of weapons. ?Ah, the other contender. Just in time to win by? for? feit?? whispered the acquirer, as the body of Kelehedemon, still perfectly straight, began to raise by itself, until it stood upright above the small indentation in the dust his fall had caused, the shadow his body cast disappearing as the rent in the clouds healed itself. Stretching, then yawning, the assassin watched the other fighter sit up and start picking up all manner of pointy implements strewn about his person. Kelehedemon brushed the dust off the obsidian side of his face, pulled out his swords and strolled over to the other contender, himself straightening from equipping all his weapons. The silence was unbroken, save for the assassin?s off-key whistling, and the sound of the acquirer beating Wynn over the head with a chair.

[temp]

Hugely fat. Grotesquely obese. Obscenely overweight.
These words do not do justice to describe the monstrosity of a human to enter the arena that day. A low murmuring emanated from the crowd, barely audible whispers under guarded breath. ?What IS that freak!? someone called out. Trying not to draw attention to themselves, the rest of the onlookers averted their eyes.

Fatty squinted upward to survey the crowd. Quickly he spotted the heckler sneering at him in revulsion and so he burned the man?s visage into memory. Later this week, the local authorities might find a body that vaguely resembles this man, but a caved-in skull would render the corpse unrecognizable.

He stepped more clearly into the arena. Was it just imagination or did the ground actually shake as his feet slammed the earth with each step? Unarmed, and wearing nothing but a loin cloth, the waves of cellulite-riddled flesh and fat reverberated up and down his body as he established his starting position for the impending fight. Rolls of human excess swayed serenely until he settled down.

Shifting focus to another section in the arena, Fatty observed some of the combatants from previous matches and as well matches yet to come. They looked formidable, but arrogant. Each fighter was posturing and over-confident, trying to give the appearance of strength with false bravado, and showing no fear.

Fools. The lot of them, all fools. Fear is not a thing to be ashamed of; fear is the helping hand that guides a fighter to caution. A fighter that is afraid does not make careless mistakes. Fatty glanced up to observe his opponent who was also about to make an entrance, and then he knew fear.

He?d been in many fights before; Mostly, his enemies often possessed both endurance and agility in equal measures, qualities that Fatty just did not have. This fight had to be swift, or he would not last.

The gong sounded to signal his opponent to enter the arena and the crowd volume stepped up a notch.
?Ah?, whispered Fatty. ?It?s Showtime soon.?

[Morgoth]

He had always loved sharing his bed with someone. He often found it hard to fall asleep alone. He needed the warm, soft comforts of female to make him feel safe. No, not safe; secure. Alone he was nothing but a man sleeping in an empty room. With a girl at his side, he instantly became something else. He became king, emperor... god. His word was law, even in his bedchamber –especially in his bedchamber- as long as there was somone there with him to whom law could apply.

A soft tapping at the door woke pulled him out of his thoughts. Muffled voices from the other side made it clear this was more than just a routine check. The guards were very aware of the penalty of disturbing him during his night hours. Annoyed he let his fingers rest for a moment on the cooling skin of the girl before slipping out of bed. The marble felt pleasantly warm against his naked feet as he silently padded up to the door. Touching the handle he could not but grin at himself, it was not like he would wake her anyway.

“My lord, we found Carter..” The Captain of the mansion guard was armed as if for war, his face grave and somewhat.. what? Anxious? No, more like fear. What could possibly frighten a man that had commanded the northern front for nearly twenty years? His lordship, Haninthra IV was intrigued, he could not deny it. Fear never had much room in his life, it never had been able to affect him. What could he possibly fear after all? Peasants? Other Lords? The emperor? He chuckled mildly at that. Indeed, there was nothing that could threaten him, yet something had in fact scared his captain. A man who had endured the northern campaigns longer than anyone, and kept his sanity... to an extent. Intriguing to say the least.

“My lord, we found Carter. Or what was left of him”
“What was left of him, captain?”
“Yes my lord. Some fishermen found him at the lake a few glasses ago. It was impossible to identify him at first, but we questioned one of his... girls..” Distaste dripped heavily as he pronounced the last word.
“Yes yes, I don’t care how you found out. You said you could not originaly identify him. Why?”
“It’s brutal, my lord...”
“I do not care. Do you think, whatever happened to Carter, I’ve not seen worse?” The captain’s eyes flickered momentarily to the girl resting peacfully on the bed, before once more focusing on his liege.
“Indeed, my lord. Sorry, my lord. Someone had taken his face my lord. We estimate he’s been dead for at least four days. The water obviously makes such things difficult to estimate.”
Haninthra frowned, his elegantly mancured eyebrows almost touching. “Absurd, I saw him sparing with the recruits earlier today... Ah..”
“We must get you to a safe place, my lord, it would seem we have an assassin in the mansion.”
*

Light punched through his lids like a torturer’s knife as the door opened to his cell. Two guards walked in, sword at the ready, urging him to get up. He looked up at them, eyes drinking in the first thing he’d been able to see in days. Tracing their vague outlines against the harsh light of a hallway lantern. What place was this? He’d been in so many cells. So many dark, locked rooms. He wondered for a moment whether he had only ever been in one cell. Perhaps his world was nothing but those four granite walls. Not for the first time, he questioned whether he had lost his sanity all those years ago. What if he had withdrawn so deep all that happend after was some sort of dream imposedupon him by his own mind?

*

“Why do I have to die?”
“What an absurd question. Did you expect to live forever?”
“I can pay you.”
“Money means nothing to me”

*

“Why am I here.What is... here?” The two guards looked at each other, momentarily confuesd. They were used to the champions begging for mercy of proclaiming certain victory. This was utterly alien to them.
“This is the cells between the Royal Arena, and you are here to fight other champions for the glory of the holy emperor.”
“I’m here to fight?”
A change came over the man. He unfolded upwards to stand in front of the two, stretching like a cat and unrolling his muscles. “That is good.” A voice that had but moments earlier been high and scared was now deep and musical, vibrating pleasantly through the cell.
“It’s been too long since I killed.” He turned his head slightly, focusing on one of the guards. “Say, you have a nice face...” He shook his head gently. “Alas, I suppose there is not enough time. Lead on gentlemen. I want blood and we would not want that to be yours I’m sure.”

[temp]

Ah, his opponent was here now.
Fatty began to take measure of this fighter. He seemed to exude confidence, but also?something else?what was it? Some sense of joviality. This man had the look of a killer, but worse than that, he looked like a man that enjoyed killing. A chill crept up Fatty?s spine. Plain and simple, he was going to lose this fight and he knew it.

The gong sounded twice this time. It begins.

Fatty circled the arena, wheezing to get enough air into his lungs. Beads of sweat formed on his brow with the exertion of moving about. He had one chance, one move that might work, but timing was paramount. A single misstep and his opponent would anticipate and counter.

In this fog of battle, images of his childhood were conjured in his mind; ?Ha ha?, little Jimmy taunted. ?Fatty Fatty Fat Fat! Fatty Fatty Fat Fat!? The rest of the children joined the chorus and formed a circle about him. ?Fatty Fatty Fat Fat!? they jeered. Some of the children began to throw things at him, pieces of food or snacks from their lunch boxes. ?Fatty Fatty Fat Fat!? the chorus line continued while he cowered under his hands to deflect the bits of food hitting him.

Memories like these were a fountain of rage that he could he tap into. Eyes bloodshot, a new-found energy pulsing in his veins, Fatty snapped out of his reverie with a roar to begin the fight.

He was four paces away at this point?three now as he carefully approached. Now was the time to unleash his move. He had not revealed his quickness yet; This allowed him to close the distance as he lunged and hugged his opponent. Gelatinous arms enclosed around his foe. Oh, but this was not the embrace of a lover. This was the embrace of death. Suffocating mounds of flesh and sickly fat enveloped the fighter?s chest and head. Fatty gritted his teeth, letting out a strained grunt that silenced the crowd as he pulled his massive arms together tighter in a huge bear hug. He felt his enemy?s resolve weaken; Asphyxiation was beginning to set in.
?That?s it?, he said into the ear of his victim, his squeaking voice oddly high pitched for a man of his size. ?shhhh. Just a bit longer?go to sleep now and all your worries will be over.?

[Morgoth]

He could feel layers of oily, fat skin pressing against him on all sides, threatening to crush him within their sweaty hollows. A horrid stench wafted from the monstrosity that had gotten hold of him, making his eyes water. Nai –he could naught but grin at the irony of his chosen name- felt the bones of his chest bend inwards as the massive arms of his opponent tried to squeeze him to death. Breathing was impossible, but thankfully, it had been long since that had been a necessity for him. Yet, a crushed ribcage would probably ensure his defeat, something which could not be allowed.

Nai struggled against the grip of his opponent, but it was like iron, impossible to break with pure strenght. He tried to wriggle out, but the mass of flesh surounding him locked him in place better than any kind of chains. Things were starting to look slightly desperate, his ribs were but moments to give away to the pressure, something had to be done. Alas, I had hoped not to have to reveal this just yet. Manouvering his arm slightly, he managed to grab hold of folds of skin portruding from the monsters sides. Slowly, he removed his own defences. Letting parts of himself flow free of their earlier confinements within his mind. Power vibrated form him in waves screaming joyfully in face of their temporary freedom. The effect was quick and made the blood hardened spectators gasp with horror as the grey colour of Nai’s skin started spreading into the flesh of his opponent where Nai’s hands held on. A smell of sugar and decay snaked upwards into the fat man’s nostrils just as the burning, numbing sensation of rott hit his brain in a rush of pain and horror. He dropped Nai with a scream as his eyes took in the gruesom sight of his own flesh slowly rotting, chunks of putrid meat and fat dropped of him and hit the ground with wet splats. Nai, staggered to his feet, a vicious grin on his face. A grin quickly dispatched by a fist the size of a sheep’s skull slamming into the side of his head, sending him flying like a ragg-doll to thud lifelessly into the arena wall.

He was sitting on a throne of gold and wood, the discarded corpse of the king resting almost peacefully against his feet. Blood covered the assassin’s clothes, most of it his own. A slow stream of dark red was still flowing from the place where a crossbowbolt had slammed straight through him, courtesy of the Queen’s champion. He should be dead, he was dead, and yet he sat on the throne, studying the carnage of destruction littering the throne room. He wondered fleetingly if he was dreaming, if perhaps this was his sancturay where he would learn his mistakes in life before once more being thrown back into the world to begin anew. If so, he supposed he would have to endure at least a few lifetimes of being a rock. A slow breeze flowed through the room, bringin with it the putrid stench of death. He blinked...

...only to find his head resting against a wall of sand stretching upwards into the distand clouds. His head roared with the sound of thousand thundering sounds. Like heavy waves against stones they hammered into his head, his ears, ripping through his thoughts like knives through paper. Pain blossomed behind his eyes, sending needles of ice through his mind and down his spine. It was all he could do not to spiral back into unconsciousness. He knew though, that giving up now would mean his death. Slowly, combating the waves of pain following every move of his muscles, he forced himself up into a half sitting position. The world spun violently as wall became ground and air became wall. Bile and blood forced itself upwards from his beaten innards and exploded out of his mouth onto the sandy ground which swalloved it with infinite hunger.

A few heartbeats later and the world had steadied some. Nai forced himself to ignore the roaring so that he could command his body to get up, to get back to its feet. Another few hearbeats and he was standing, if unsteadily. Surrounding him on all sides were hundreds, thousands of people their mouts open as if screaming, yet they made no sound. All he could hear was the roaring thunder of waves punishing the land.

There was something at the centre of the arena. Staggering closer, revealed it to be two people. A man and a woman of middle years, if it had not been for the myriad of tiny wounds dotting their bodies from head to toe they could have seemed as if resting lovingly against each others. Blood was everywhere, covering them as well as the ground. There was something very familiar about them. He frowned just as a shadow fell over them, hiding them from view, and then something slammed into Nai, once more sending him flying. As he hit the ground, the roar dispatched only to be replaced by the excited screams of thousands of blood thirsty spectators. The change was so quick it made the world lurch violently for a second, but this time, Nai was able to keep his mind clear. He crawled back unto his feet, facing the fat aparition coming for him with surprising speed. Insanity burned in it’s eyes, rott crawled alongst its sides, no longer spreading but still providing a disgusting sight. Nai clenched his fists, readying himself. Sound was stil ripping through his thoughts, pain thundered behind his eyes and he knew several of his ribbs were broken, yet he could not help but grin. This was fighting, this was killing and he was ready.