| The noise
of the crowd assails Torgal's ears as he stands upon
his balcony overlooking the assembled people. Lifting
the fluted wine glass to his lips he takes a small sip
of the red liquid. The corners of his mouth turn-up
in mild disgust before he sends the glass sailing into
the arena below. A few people in the crowd notice and
slowly silence ripples through the crowd.
"Greetings Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight we
have a crowd favorite… or at least someone who
isn't despised. Rannos!" The crowd erupts into
cheers indicating more than a few people present are
avid supporters and fans of the outcast dwarf. "His
opponent, for your bloodthirsty entertainment is the
wizard Whisper! He may have a poor record but he is
proving that he is still no measly kobold that gets
kicked around!" This time fewer cheers are heard
but they are every bit as ferocious as those of the
Rannos camp. "Well shall we begin?" Torgal
backs away and sits in his chair as the crowd, hungering
for violent entertainment, surges to the rails of
the Pit to watch the combatants enter.
The gates swing slowly open and Rannos steps into
the torch-lit arena first. His eyes scan the crowd
and a slight, almost imperceptible smile crosses his
face. He gives a slight nod to a grouping of dwarven
fans before his blank expression takes over and he
positions himself on his mark. Whisper strides into
the arena to the cheers of his loyal fans. He quickly
takes his start position and reaches inside his cloak.
The silent command is given from the balcony above.
Whisper acts first and quickly pulls something from
his cloak. Before anyone can see what it is he is
shrouded in darkness. Rannos begins mutter the words
to his arcane magic and his hands are suffused with
a soft blue glow. His eyes scan the area around the
globe of darkness that marks where Whisper was. Rannos
slowly lifts his arms and closes his eyes, softly
speaking a few words. The blue glow surrounding his
hands pulse as Rannos seeks out his target. Without
warning he turns slightly to the left and one of two
runes on his forehead flashes. A jet of water streams
from his hands and pours across the arena and slams
into an unseen object. The stream of water meets momentary
resistance before continuing its path and splashing
against the stone wall of the pit.
The motionless form of the wizard Whisper slowly
fades into view. His cloak is soaked and in tatters,
his hair wet and disheveled while bruises all over
his body quickly begin to form. The pit clerics quickly
enter the arena to attend to the badly battered combatant.
Rannos briefly looks at his hands in a moment of amazement
before turning and stepping back into the entrance
tunnel.
Seems I'm going to owe some money to Gremag, Torgal
muses to himself.
|
