Through the cacophony of voices, the resounding thud echoes across the
Arena.  In its wake a seemingly magical silence pervades all.
Patrons settle, taking their seats.  Merchants calm, finishing their sales
quietly.  Bookies arrange the betting odds and final deals in hushed tones.
Nobles continue to sip from crystal goblets while staring down the length of
their noses to the lesser folk below.

    To either end of the massive Arena, the competitor's great doors begin
to part open.  Each door, the height of a giant and equally wide, slowly
creep open with a resounding grating sound.  Only darkness pervades the open
passages beyond.

    "GREETINGS PATRONS AND GUESTS," a booming voice begins.  His tone is
like honey and his tempo raises and falls pulling the strings
of the crowd with every word.  "WELCOME TO THE PEARL OF THE MARVELOUS CITY
OF SABERHAVEN.  WECLOME TO THE GAMES!"

    Cheers erupt from all sides of the Arena with the precision of a
thespian guildmaster.  Equally on cue, the voices settle and the announcer
continues.  "LEND ME YOUR EARS FOR A SPELL, MY FRIENDS.  TODAY, ON THE VERY
SANDS BEFORE YOU, YOU WILL SEE SIGHTS OF
MARTIAL PROWESS ONLY HEARD OF IN RUMOR.  MAGICAL FEATS WILL TEAR ACROSS THE
VERY FABRIC OF TIME AND SPACE TO REND FOES LIMB FROM LIMB.  THIS IS A BATTLE
OF LEGENDS.  WHO SHALL BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BEAR WITNESS TO THE SPECTACLE OF A
LIFETIME!?"

    Cries of excitement burst like a wicker dam.  In the flood of boisterous
energy, the announce continues.  "OUR FIRST COMPETITOR, A
VETERAN OF THE GAMES, I PRESENT NIWT!  LET HIS BLADES AND THE FAITH OF HIS
DARK LORD FIND FAVOR IN HIM TODAY."

    Stepping from the darkness, a well muscled human male steps into view.
An aura of shadows and violet flames dance over his features,
obscuring most of him from view.  Held casually in either hand are a pair of
short swords, both polished brightly.  His entire form bears a
countenance of sinister lethality.

    "AND HIS FOE, A MISTRESS OF MAGIC AND MIGHT.  MAY HER SORCEROUS PROWESS
PROVE HER VICTOR THIS GREAT DAY.  I PRESENT, WHYNN!"

    Walking with a feminine grace, a middle-aged woman steps into the
Arena's light.  Eight mirror images of the lady-mage step into the Arena.
Flowing from her slender shoulders is a simple robe of drab brown.  Her face
bears an exotic appearance, from her coppery skin framed by her dark hair.
She walks with a gnarled staff, and at her waist are several daggers.  A
small bandolier holds several darts, and a sling is looped in her belt.   On
her right hand glitters a ring, and a trio of stones float about her head -
sending a scintillating pattern over her facial features.

    "LADIES.  GENTLEMEN.  LET THE FIGHT.... BEGIN!"

    Not but an instant after the announcer's initiation of the battle the
combatants begin.  Taking a pair of steps closer to her foe, Whynn mutters a
single words under her breath.  Instantly a field of lightning -like a host
of Will o' Wisps dancing- erupts a few dozen paces in front of Niwt.  The
nimbus of lightning explodes into a trio of massive bolts streak toward the
warrior's chest.

    As the stream of magic crosses the distance to Niwt, the warrior merely
sneers in contempt before ceasing to exist.

    Where a man once stood, bolts of lightning tear into the massive Arena
doors.  Magic ripples over their surfaces, like a stone striking a rain
puddle.  In the end the door's enchantments pervade and the bolts fade from
existence, leaving a few disks of fused sand as the only evidence of their
previous presence.

    Clearing the distance in a single magical bound, Niwt appears a yard
behind Whynn.  Even with her back to him, Barton can clearly make out her
attacker.  At this close proximity his form drips with an aura of summoned
evil as blazing flames continue to dance over his entire body.  Both short
swords sway tauntingly in the sinister rainbow of light.  It is then, that
Whynn spies a single sigil of dark evil.  Displayed boldly in front of the
warrior's chainmail shirt, a snaking symbol of inky black writes like a
tendril of Abyssal energy.  He glares with evil intent and a wicked grin.

    Upon spying its presence, a wave of fear and hopelessness cascades over
Whynn's soul.  Trained to resist such mental and magical
onslaughts, the only effect is a slight chill down her spine.

    "Something bothering you, my pretty?" he taunts though his words are
misdirected as he is inadvertently speaking to one of the mirror
images.

    Spinning on her heels, the host of Whynn's images whirl about to face
the devilishly handsome warrior.  Again the Symbol's presence
sends a chill down her spine, but nothing further.

    Niwt smiles a grin full of perfect teeth, "I think we should play a bit,
don't you, pretty?"  His comment is joined with a lunge of his eldritch
blade.  While it starts out aimed at one of the images, he pulls and turns
his strike to land upon the true sorceress.  Guided with the skill of a
master swordsman, Niwt's first sword slashes cleanly through Whynn's throat.
  Ripples of magic force her brow to crease it pain, but not a drop of blood
flows from the wound.  With her head still firmly attached to her shoulders,
Niwt frowns, but doesn't slow his attacks.  Testing it further, his silver
blade buries itself into her abdomen, without an ounce of resistance or
pain.  Seeing one sword work and the other not, his eldritch shortsword
snakes in four more times, each one hitting her, while the mundane silver
sword strikes at the host of stones orbiting her brow -shattering two but
not managing to damage the third.  It merely corrects it's orbit and
continues in it's flight.

    In the waves of magical pain and the soul wrenching nausea of the loss
of her ioun stones, Whynn clutches at an embroidered ribbon set upon her
robes.  Tearing it from her robe, shards of magic crystallize with the sound
of wind-chimes.  The slivers grow and expand like ice forming in the
blink-of-an-eye.  They slither across the Arena floor and twist up toward
its roof above.  Then as quickly as they appeared, they cease.  All that is
left is a silvery dome a few dozen feet across.  The cries of the patrons
are deathly silent.  The cheers and faces locked and frozen, as Whynn gazes
upon them.  Before her Niwt stands, his form appearing as a marvelous
sculpture in time.  Even the dancing flames that licked the air around him,
now stand rigid like violet icicles.

    Drawing a slender ruby from her robe, Whynn wordlessly focuses it's
magic upon the man before her.  In a flash, like an exploding star, a
glittering vortex begins to swirl around her hand encompassing it entirely.
Then, an instant later, the vortex of glitter explodes outward in a
spherical wave, so powerful it tears apart the very fabric of magic itself.
As the expanding sphere strikes Niwt, the flames over his body are snuffed.
The aura of darkness is shredded like a rake set against a silken tapestry.

    His armored gauntlets split from their leather backing.  The elven
chainmail shirt that frames his muscled shoulders and chest, disintegrates
into a jingling pile of links at his feet.  The stones that orbit his head
sputter and pop, landing in twisted piles of fused gemstone.  A jeweled
beetle on his belt boils and cracks into a dull gray lump.  A ring that once
graced his right index finger now shudders as its stones pop loudly from
their mountings.

    By then the wave of destructive magic has passed him and strikes the
silvery globe of timelessness, shattering it and the host of
illusionary images, into a million tiny motes of light.  In an instant the
cheers flood in, with a volume that is deafening.  Frozen faces now leap at
the instant display of magic, the likes of which most have never seen.

    Now back into a normal timeline, Niwt's face grimaces into a warzone of
emotions.  Rage and confusion play upon his brow.  "What have you done,
witch?!"

    Yet it wasn't over yet.  The gemstone in her hand still pulsed with an
inner energy.  A light begins to form from it's bowels, sending rays of
crimson light out each of its facets.  Waves of warmth begin to cascade like
the tide gentle striking the beach.  As the spectators watch, the light
within the gem continues to grow and Niwt's face changes from rage to pain.
Drops of sweat form and fall from his face as he stares down to his stomach.
  Timed with his expression of pure horror, the crowd gasps as they too see
it.  His entire stomach and chest are glowing bright red.  Dark shadows form
a sinister skeleton upon the canvas of his flesh, from the inside out.
While one would expect flesh to blister and boil next, it doesn't.  The
light fades from Niwt's inner self and the gem falls quietly into dust upon
a rare gust of air.

    Before the shocked Niwt can act, Whynn quickly grabs another ruby.  The
effects of its magic are nothing short of amazing.  Her gaunt hand begins to
glow and writhe as brilliant green tendrils slip between her fingers and
flow up her arm.  Halfway to her elbow they pierce her flesh and continue
their trek to her chest, now under her sickly green glowing skin.  Every few
inches they branch, and in the span of a second, her entire body is laced
with a magic ivy.  Then it is gone, seemingly absorbed into her being.

    "You whore!" Niwt screams as the realization of what has occurred
filters into his mind.  While Whynn's magics are layered upon her,
Niwt's mind quickly and accurately inventories his remaining options.  "By
Bane's wrath I will see you pay for this."

    Calling upon his dark lord, Niwt drops his silvered sword and clutches
at a piece of metal tied to a leather thong around his neck.  His form seems
to shimmer for a moment and then stops.  Releasing his holy symbol, he casts
his hand in a wave before him.  Ripples of dark magic, close the distance
and strike all around Whynn.

    The effect washes over her, but has no visible effect.  That is, other
then making her smile...  A smile that turns to distinct concentration as
she stares at the still glowing ruby -ebbing waves of magic still slowly
being released from its bowels.

    Whynn's voice has already begun to call upon the weave of magic.  Words
flow from her as her free hand traces patterns in the air before her.  A
soft mist begins to form as she fights to hold back the magic of the ruby.
In the midst of the crowd's roars a tinkling sound of wind chimes fills the
air.  Droplets of magic leap from her hand and land upon the ruby, covering
it and snuffing the magic within.

    "I have no clue about you, sweetie," Niwt taunts, "but I'm going to
enjoy hurting you."

    His words precipitate his attack.  First his enchanted blade cuts in
thrice, each time passing straight through her, but leaving a wake of
magical disruption.  His now free hand balls into a tight fist.  Streaking
in, it slams into her chest and jaw solidly with the strength to snap bone.
As her body rocks under the blows, Niwt's brow raises curiously.

    "Aw, magics can't stop a little love tap, huh?"

    Dropping the dull ruby husk Whynn's hand darts into her robes, drawing a
second shaped ruby.  But before she can focus its powers, Niwt leaps in.
His eyes are wild and savage, like a cornered animal.  Yet from within the
madness of his face lies a sinister intellect.

    His sword slices twice without regard, passing through her flesh as
though it was nothing, though shivers of magic ripple over her body
painfully.

    "You are mine, witch!  Bane will feast upon your soul!"  He sneers as
his bloodied fist pummels down upon her collar bone with a painful
crunch.  Under the onslaught of physical abuse, she stares glassy-eyed up at
the handsome killer just as his fist streaks into her face, to crush her
skull.  But the blow never lands.  Shimmering into view a vague ghost leaps
from her body, like an attacking specter.  Bringing it ghostly hand up, it
intercepts the blow the instant before it would have driven into her face.
With a violent scream, it disperses into the hot Arena air.

    Slightly shocked, Niwt's head tilts to the side.  "No matter, your
spells are nothing compar... WHAT?"

    Whynn's glassy expression twists into a smile as her palm begins to glow
a bright blue.  Two blinding flashes, like a bolt of lightning to the face,
explode silently from her hand.  The magic clutched within her hand rolls
over her body.  In its passing, blood is removed.  Skin split open mends.
Swollen bruises soften and return to a healthy pink.  Shattered bones knit
back in place.  Then she is gone.

    Announcing her reappearance is a bright flash of azure light, near the
doors Niwt entered.

    The completely healed mage raises her hand and utters a single word.  In
an instant four massive balls of fire manifest around her hand, circling it
like orbiting planets.  Then without warning they fly toward Niwt before he
can take two steps.  The first slams into his chest -immolating his entire
body in a halo of flames.  A thin layer of his skin seems to boil off, but
no pain is evident upon his face.  Until the next three balls of fire
explode at his feet.  For a long second his body is completely obscured by
the torrential walls of fire.  Flames lick and leap, fading into plumes of
smoke.

    A rare gust of wind sends the cloud of pitch to one side, revealing a
mockery of a man.  His flesh is blackened from head to toe.  His clothes are
shredded and incinerated.  What scraps that remain are burned into his
sickly black flesh.  The sword he once clutched, is reduced to a pile of
molten metal -that still glows pink.  Segments of bone and muscle glisten
through burst blisters of flesh.  His face is horribly scarred as most of
the skin on his right side has been blasted off -leaving a perpetual grin of
exposed teeth and grotesquely bulging eyeball.

    His eyes burn with hatred as they stare at Whynn.  Clutching his holy
symbol, Niwt pauses his charge and begins to pray.  Like before,
his body blurs slightly while flicker around him.  The shimmering field
fades as flames of blackness begin to dance over his body.  A completely
renewed body.  Whatever harm the flames caused him, has been restored from
head to toe.

    Gritting his teeth, Niwt shuffles a few feet into a sprint toward Whynn.
  He knows what has to be done and time is wasting.

    As the warrior starts across the Arena floor, Whynn's hand drifts to the
eldritch ribbon of magic hovering around her waist.  With barely a thought
and habitual gesture, the sorceress sends a wave of magic hurtling towards
Niwt.

    Instants before the spell collides with the warrior, his hand launches
upward in a dismissive warding gesture.  The black flames that once
surrounded him tear from his body and lash at the magical attack.  Meeting,
the two magics explode violently, each destroying the other.  In the end,
Niwt continues unharmed, though his flames are  quenched.

    "Not so easy, witch!"  Niwt screams.  "I'll tear your hea...ACK!!!"

    His words choke in his mouth as the flesh of his body is seared from his
limbs.  Burns and blisters boil to the surface of his flesh
three times over.  Bones crack, split and explode into fine powder.  Organs
shudder and burst, spraying their contents in a sick puddle
upon the dusty floor.  In an instant, little remains of Niwt.  His body is
pulverized beyond recognition.

    In his taunts of bravado, he never saw the trio of following magics that
issued from the ruby within Whynn's palm.  He never saw the magic that tore
his body asunder.