Azul versus Dorn The crowd waits with anticipation, knowing that this day will bring an interesting battle. The sun shines down with a gentle warmth, giving the mid-morning a pleasant atmosphere. The atmosphere is lost in a swarm of shouts and curses, and the crowd argues over the strategies that the two warriors will employ. Azul, the mul gladiator is favored should the fight come down to hand to hand combat, yet Dorn, the half elf mage/cleric has been known to bring opponents down with incredible feats of magic. As the time draws near for the battle to begin, the restless throng of bodies settle, and the noise gradually dies out. A new voice floods the Arena, hailing the beginning of the fight. "Azul, challenger of the mighty Disciples, has promised Fistus the Almighty an offering of his opponent's blood on this day. May his sword bring forth the destruction of his foes." A large set of doors set in one of the far sides of the Arena opens, revealing a black void beyond. The crowd gasps, trying to get a glimpse of the powerful gladiator. Some who see him might suspect he has some ogrish blood in his heritage. He is a giant of a man at 6'8" tall and 350 pounds, festooned with various scabbarded swords, with a quiver on his back and long bow in hand. His skin is such a burnished tan from the Athasian sun as to be almost red. His skin is crisscrossed with pink scars from countless past battles, though only his head and hands are easily seen through his armor. Mayhap one of those scars accounts for the patch he wears over his left eye. Azul stands as solidly as a stone wall as he awaits the start of the match. Next the voice rings out again, announcing Azul's opponent. "And now I present to you the representative of the invincible Disciples, fighting for their honor, DDDOOORRRNNNN!" As the name rings throughout the crowd, enhanced by the loud chanting of Dorn, Dorn, Dorn, another set of doors on the opposite side of the Arena open, letting forth the magic user. Dorn is well built, he would be considered handsome if not for the burn scars which mar the left of his face. He is dressed in blue vestments embroied with silver and emblazoned with a seven-pointed star. A white cloak billows behind him as he walks and he carries a long goldenshod staff with the ease of long familiarity. A mace hangs from his broad silver studded girdle and a silver circlet stands on his long golden hair. His face is tense and concentrated fully understanding the strength of his opponent. The crowd cheers on, a booming racket that scorches the air with deafening noise. As both fighters prepare themselves, the Lord Mayor nods to the judges. A moment later a new booming voice fills the Arena, sending the crowd into a further flurry of sound. "BEGIN!" The noise of the crowd drowns out all further sounds, but a few of the patrons closer to the Arena can see Azul speak something to the half elf, possible some challenge. The mul gladiator then draws back a huge bow, and release an arrow that streaks through the air with a high pitched scream. The crowd immediately quiets, anticipating the destruction this first blow will cause. The magical arrow burns with a hideous green glow, then strikes something in front of the mage. Dorn ignores this small disturbance, and begins to weave powerful magic. Many of the seated onlookers stand, trying to see what wondrous magic is beginning, only to recoil in fear as the mage bursts into an ominous green glow. The magical fire races around Dorn's body, finally coming to rest in the mages eyes, replacing the blue fields with a swirling green abyss. The half elf smiles, content to now taunt his opponent. Dorn smirks at Azul's brave words. "You will soon find that none can stand up to someone who has the blessings of both The Stormhawk and Our lady of spells. Your promise to Fistus will go unfulfilled today. Mystra be praised." Many of the people begin to cheer, fueled by these strong words of their champion, while others watch contentedly, not wanting to miss any of the action. The Mage grasps something hanging from his neck, and closes his eyes. Some laugh, taunting, "Pray to your god mage, it will not save you from Azul's sword!" Dorn ignores the taunts however, and when he opens his eyes, the green glow has been replaced by one of deep blue. "What's the matter, is it too dark in the arena for you to see?" taunts Azul mockingly. He then speaks a guttural word, and gestures around. The air swirls momentarily, finally dying down. The ioun stones that had been previously circling over the mul's head fall lifeless to the ground, and he stops to pick them up and place them in a pouch at his belt. With a startled gasp, many of the crowd that had been cheering for their champion begin to whisper softly, looking on with grim faces. "Anti-magic", "Can't use his spells", "He is finished," can be heard throughout the stands, as the gladiator slowly gains more supporters. The gladiator then begins to move forward at a casual pace, knocking an arrow in his massive bow. A look of surprise mixed with anger crosses the face of Dorn. "Your defense is an insult to the goddess. For only that you should die, here in this arena. For soon you will find that not even that can stand up to the might of the goddess." Azul responds to Dorn's words by spitting in the dust. "Continue to mouth your blasphemies, wizard. My victory will be that much sweeter when I cleave you from wind to water. I know that Fistus watches this battle; are you so sure that your god is watching you as well? Come closer now, that I can toss aside this weapon of cowards and resort to the blade" challenges Azul. With a quickness born of much practice, Azul steps forward and fires another arrow from his bow. It begins to shimmer as it leaves the area around the mul, and speeds towards his opponent. Dorn watches and smiles, then suddenly ceases to exist, only to reappear 15 feet higher in the air where he remains hovering. A soft droning chant emits from his lips and then a barely visible beam of force darts from his hands only disappear again several paces from the Mull. Many of the seated patrons gasp and cry out, surprised by this sudden burst of action. The mage seemed to be working magic, but to what purpose? All gathered know that magic is now a futile effort, the antimagic shell will surely take out any offensive spells. That was just shown, the ray being dispelled a few yards from the contented mul. The arrow strikes the ground where Dorn had been previously standing, missing the mage. Azul curses and begins to move forward, still at a casual pace, knowing that his opponent is still a very real threat. "Playing me for a fool, mage, will be your undoing!" Azul moves forward and sends another arrow hurtling towards his opponent. "Lets see how you like this magic" Azul whispers softly as the arrow speeds towards its target. A laugh escapes Dorn's mouth. "Watching you? Yes. But will he protect you? Mystra blessings keep me save from your puny arrows. Now lets see if your Fistus has an answer to THIS." With that the dewomerkeeper slings out his right hand while his left touches a gem on his necklace. Then five dots of blue energy streak from his hands and dart unerringly at the Mul. As the mage finishes his spell, the arrow bursts, seemingly upon the mages chest. A large burst of darkness encompasses the area, then slowly dissipates, revealing the mage to be nowhere in sight. Azul shakes his head, then smiles at the missiles flying towards him. The crowd gives out a shout, knowing that their hero has just been undone by the challenger, a gladiator. Many of the patrons rise, preparing to leave, disgusted at this poor performance from the disciples. Suddenly a scream emits from below, and the five missiles can be seen, striking the mul with incredible force. The gladiator is dropped to his knees, falling to the ground. He lays sprawled, unmoving except for occasional twitching. A loud cry of triumph escapes the throats of the gathered people as Dorn reappears, seemingly unharmed. A small smile graces his lips, and he looks quickly to the judges, who after a moment of conferring, declare the half elf the winner. The Arena is again filled suddenly by a wall of noise, the people working together to deafen anything further that may be said. Guards and clerics rush to aid the fallen warrior, but the mage beats them to the body. The noise dies out suddenly, as uncertainty begins to grip their minds. Slowly the mage speaks a few words, his entire countenance taking one a blue glow. With a sigh the gladiator stirs, and the mage backs up. He speaks softly, "Until we meet again." and then he walks to the exit, where he turns around and gestures one last time. A beam of light shoots from his hand into the air and with a crack of Lightning, a huge brown hawk is displayed in mid air, surrounded by a crackling halo of lightning bolts, the symbol of the Disciples.