Another fine day in Sabrehaven city. Another fight scheduled for the
Arena. Another pair of contestants itching to prove their superiority upon
their opponents. Today the deputy mayor sits in the most important seat, the
mayor being tied up with business. But to be honest, no-one really cares,
it's the fight that they've come to see, between a first timer and an old
timer.
    Pffriiti is the first to enter, looking virtually human, a slight
sharpness to his features the only indiction of the tiefling blood
flowing through him. He wears black breeches and a loose fitting purple
shirt. A shield is slung across his back and in his arms he cradles a cross
bow, which he promptly points at his opponent...
    Who is coming out of the opposite door. Aurablade is the new-comer to
the Games, another moonelf rumoured to have skills in combat and magic, as
can be confirmed by the fact that five Aurablades are actually leaving their
prep room. The images constantly shift around, blurring his outline a bit,
but Aurablade can be seen, clothed completely in blue, with a green belt
around his waist. Small flames seem to cover him, and as he enters small
wings sprout from his boots.
    Pffriiti's sends two bolts across the field. The first looks good, but
rather than sailing through Aurablade, it sails through thin air, and
everyone notices that the elf's actually standing a couple of feet away. The
second bolt again flies through thin air, but this time as it does so, one
of the images of Aurablade winks out.

    Aurablade then lifts off of the ground slightly, powered by winged
boots, and streaks across the intervening ground. Pffriiti drops his
crossbow and brings his shield onto his left arm. In his right he
readies a dagger.
    As Aurablade comes into range, Pffriiti launches several daggers at the
moonelf. The first goes wide, but surely it would have been a hit at a
lesser range. The second and third slice cleanly through images, dispelling
them as they do so. Now there are only 3 Aurablades bearing down on the
tiefling. The final dagger finds the real one of the three, but the elf is
unharmed as the dagger falls to the ground with a clinking sound.
    "Now it's my turn," grins Aurablade as he lands and closes the last few
feet on foot. As fast as lightning he brings his scimitar round in big
swing, easily avoiding Pffriiti's shield and slicing deep into his torso.
The tip of the blade finds the tiefling's heart, and Pffriiti falls slowly
backwards. By the time he hits the ground he's dead.
    The deputy declares Aurablade the winner, and the crowd cheers their new
champion.