"I swore I'd never sit up here," he bit at a fellow legionnaire who had drawn the unpleasant duty of helping the injured sergeant at arms oversee this bout. "How am I supposed to see anything happen up here!?!?!" The legionnaire wisely remains silent, staring out over the assembled throng. Alsimane only grunts. "Let's get this underway."

Wobbling forward to the rail he raises his voice to a mighty bellow. "Patrons of the Pit! Welcome! Tonight, we have the privilege of witnessing the Pit champion Calathra Tealeaf face the fire and brimstone of the relative newcomer Crucibal Atesh! Why should I say more? Witness their conflict! Combatants, enter and fight!" And with that, he gestures to the gate keepers who open the great portals into the pit simultaneously.

The combatants, wise in the ways of deadly combat, enter in a rush and immediately begin the fray. Or so it can be assumed, because the form of Crucibal is entirely obscured by a half-orb of midnight which rushes into the arena.

Alsimane swears. "For love of….now I'm not going to be able to see anything!"

Calathra raises her eyebrow at the non-opponent before her, and raises her voice in a chant for protection from her foes. As the shimmering field arises about her she immediately begins a new incantation and a small viper appears on the sands of the pit, only to be swallowed up by the darkness as it's source charges forward. Silent amidst the noise of the crowd, she then moves off a distance, allowing a slight smirk to cloud her features as the still unseen form of Crucibal continues his previous course.

Suddenly the darkness is gone and the form of Crucibal is revealed, swiftly searching for his foe. He starts as he spots the serpent at his feet, but chooses to ignore it as his eyes light upon Calathra. He charges. A resounding blow strikes the halfling warrior, his spiked chain snaking out to snap at her shoulder as she twists away. However, as he pauses to swing again, he winces and looks to his armored ankle-brace where he can feel venom from the unwisely ignored serpent flood his system from two burning punctures.

Darkness springs out to surround both opponents now, and the crowd in the stands jeer mercilessly as the combat continues unseen. Stepping swiftly, and silently, from the darkness comes the form of Calathra, a bloodied sickle in one hand and a dagger in the other as the clanking of Crucibal's armor can be heard from within the black sphere. She halts briefly and quietly calls upon her divine patrons for healing. The great wound caused by Crucibal's chain disappears in a silent burst.

The darkness seems to orient of Calathra's chanted words and then it disappears once more. Crucibal dons a look of surprise considering how far his opponent has moved from his armored rush. Without pause however, he turns his charge towards her and meets with her. A hiss of steel and a futile exchange of blows, and once again all is plunged into darkness as Crucibal takes one hand from his great weapon and removes something from his pouch.

Almost comically Calathra moves out of the darkness once more, jogging silently across the pit as the clank and swish of Crucibal's weaponry can be heard from within. Again the flame wielding dwarf is revealed as the darkness is dispelled. He swears elaborately now as he again takes in how far his opponent is from him. He begins another charge, but with the weight of his armor and the distance he needs to travel, he is unable to reach his opponent prior to her hurling a sling stone towards him. It disappears into darkness as the black field once again asserts itself for an instant…..and then it is gone as Crucibal, convinced of the ineffectiveness of this tactic against Calathra, shifts to a more direct method of dealing with this nimble foe.

A great wolf appears near the form of the halfling maiden and nips viscously at her side as she renews her arcane protections, and an aura of doom settles upon her shoulders as she fails to resist the dark incantations of the charred priest. Calathra responds with multiple rays of shimmering frost which strike again and again against his armored form, ignoring the summoned creature until it disappears into a eddy of mist.

Then, whether due to the exhaustion of her spell repertoire, or shear boredom with ranged combat, Calathra draws her sickle and dagger and charges her opponent with a mighty howl. Mystic power floods from the cinder-cleric in an attempt to destroy the sickle, with no effect. The chain lashes out in an attempt to wrest it from her grip, again with no effect, and now it is Crucibal who is driven backward as attack after attack makes it through his guard to draw glistening wounds across his face, his scalp, his arms.

He sidesteps an attack and again calls upon the forces of fire to cleanse him of his wounds. A violent inferno bursts, and he is healed. However Calathra charges in and drives Crucibal into a back-peddling frenzy as he swings spiked death; fruitlessly attempting to connect with the snarling halfling as she wounds him again and again.

Finally, he steps back once more, and following a moment of indecision, calls upon the power of his burning deity to rob the noble warrior-maiden of her movement.

Calathra freezes, but from her clothing springs a lightening blur which leaps at Crucibal and rips at his throat. The weasel misses horribly. Crucibal steps forward, ignoring the annoying creature and calmly, surprisingly, takes the life of the helpless Calathra with something resembling contempt.

Alsimane looks over to his silent platoon-man and states simply. "Almost seems unfair, doesn't it?"