Bellow vs. Dranthur


        The crowds roar even before the fight begins at perhaps the most
highly anticipated fight of the year.  On one side of the card is the reigning
Grand Champion, Saint Dranthur Lionscrest, whose reputation precedes him as
the premier combatant in all of Terra Dyne and blessed Saint of Mystra,
goddess of magic.
        On the other side resides the villainous Bellow, a Cambion Prince
son on the Tanar'ri Lord Fraz'Urb-Luu, known for his trash talking and lust for
dominance which he's never quite attained.  He's clocked more than a few of
the most powerful fighters of all time though including Rasta Rolarian whom
he beat out in the last tournament to attain his spot in the Top 8.
        The Lord Mayor himself, Malor Slonhouser, resides over this fight,
actingas ultimate judge, along with a panel of three of his highest ranking
officials, who sit a level below the Lord Mayor's box in full view of the
battleground.  Slonhouser announced earlier today that he expected wagering
on this fight to be one of the highest days ever, perhaps even beating the
last fight between the retired undefeated Grand Champion Val Urora and
Lionscrest three cycles ago.
        The contestants are announced. "BEELLLOOOOWWW!!!!" cries the
announcer, but even his magically enhanced voice is drowned out by the ear splitting
cheers and jeers of the crowd.  The cambion floats through the doors, his
face all business.  His coal black visage and sharp pointed ears scrunch
together as he focuses on calling forth no doubt some mystical powers.  His
entire body is covered in rapidly changing colors, hopping back and forth,
protecting him from what is to come, no doubt the most intense thrashing of
magic in his life.
        "DRAAANTHURRRRR LIIIOONNNSCCRRESSST!!!" the magical mouth screams.
The crowd is on its feet, the entire stands shaking under the foot pounding
movement.  Dran floats slowly through the opposite door, blue flames
flickering about him, his gold-embroidered cloak tossed back behind,
trailing him like a midnight blue shadow.  Doing his best to shut out the
crowd, Dran releases four mountainous flaming rocks which converge on
Bellow, though do hardly any damage.
        The cambion prince obviously releases some potent magic himself,
though to no visible effect.  Dran pays little attention and begins the duel in
earnest.
        "Today's..." begins Bellow, anxious to chide his opponent.  But
drowned out by the ambient noise, he decides to forget his usually trash smash and
steps forward.
        Hardly moving at all, he's hit by some sort of weak magical ray, the
likes none have seen in the Arena.  Though not particularly bright or potent, the
beam shoots across, catches the cambion and dissipates in less than a blink.
        Bellow starts to shrug off the minuscule beam, but then find his
mouth ever so dry.  Dran smiles as the cambion begins to panic, searching his
pouches and sides for something to drink!  Finding nothing on himself - not
even the errant potion - he looks around for something...anything to quench
this insatiable thirst that he may get on with the fight.
        Consumed now by his thirsty hankering, Bellow turns behind him and
spots several spectators with ale filled canteens hooping it up about ten feet up
and behind the Arena's protective wall of force.  Bellow flies as quick as
he can towards the fluids but smashes into the wall in his haste.
        "Give them to me!!" he commands the spectators, but the drunken
fools laugh and snort - that is after their initial shock of fear of the heavily
armored and fight readied cambion rushing them.
        Dran lets with a slim smile and invokes a teleportation which takes
him in flight up behind the cambion.  Bellow suddenly lets out with an item and
with a sonic "BOOM!" collapses the protective wall surrounding the Arena
floor with a Disintegrate.
        Chaos breaks free in the stands, the spectators now fearful of their
lives.  The Lord Mayor stands - to this point he had been as amused as the
rest of the crowd - points to the combatant and orders his guards to seize
Bellow.  His cries are lost on all but the closest guards and they rush off
to fulfill the orders.
        Still calm and collected, Dran invokes another spell just before
Bellow is able to grab the ale left behind by the fleeing Arena-goers.  Standing atop
the stone ledge when the force wall had previously connected to the stone,
Bellow starts to dance.  First its just a small shuffle ball change.  Then
comes a pull back, tap, tap.  He suddenly finds himself in the midst of an
uncontrollable frenzy of footwork.  Nearly crying for his lack of control
and tongue wrenching thirst, Bellow doesn't know what to do for once in his
life.
        Before the guards step in, Dran casts one last spell, reducing the
mind of the cambion to jello.  The thirsty, dancing loser jellies his last jam
before collapsing a dozen feet to the ground.
        Those caught in the chaotic fervor of the stands now turn and see
the matter well in hand.  Dran bows to the crowd and flies about, several dozen
feet in the sky, then presents himself to the Lord Mayor, flying just below
the half-orc's box with a serene bow and a smile.  Slonhouser announcer
Dran the winner to the exuberant sheers of the crowd.