As a pair of servants drag the body from the Arena, the bookies start 
laying bets on the next fight.  Tellafar is heavily favored, having never 
lost a fight in the Arena.  A member of the Stormhawks, Tellafar is also a 
devotee of the Morninglord, Lathander.  With the protection of his god, he 
has defeated all who've faced him.

    At one end of the Arena, the doors grind open, and Tellafar steps 
through.  A tall man with long blond hair tied into a ponytail falling 
between his shoulders, he is dressed in silver glittering platemail 
underneath the traditional vestments of a priest of Lathander, yellow 
adorned with a red sun.  A white cloak billows behind him as he walks and he 
carries a long staff with the ease of long familiarity.  A soft glow 
surrounds the man as if he continously is bathing in sunlight.

    While the bookies rush through the last bets, Leareth slips between the 
large doors at the other end of the Arena.  A member of the secretive 
contingency known as the Talons of Today, the aasimar ignores the crowd, 
apparently tapping his mental energies.  He wears worn studded leather armor 
and a pair of longswords hang from his belt.  A bow and quiver are slung 
across his back and he has various other odds and ends about his person.  A 
pouch here, a length of rope there.  His normally light skin is today a dull 
gray, as though the color has been drained out of him.

    The announcer signals the beginning of the fight, and Laereth 
disappears.  At the same time, the ring on Tellafar's right hand flashes and 
a green tendril of light springs from it, racing up his arm and settling on 
his eyes.  As the light fades into the eyes, he looks up, to see Laereth 
appear 120' away.

    Tellafar grasps the symbol around his neck and whispers something.  It's 
unclear what he's doing, but it seems to have no noticeable effect.  
Nonetheless, Tellafar seems pleased as he looks back up at his opponent.

    Laereth meanwhile, has retreated into himself, most likely directing his 
psionic might against Tellafar.  A frown slowly makes it's way onto his 
face, and he looks across at the priest.

    Seeing the look in Tellafar's eyes, Laereth begins to back away.  
However, he hasn't gotten far when, with a few quick strides Tellafar steps 
forward and makes a motion like clapping his hands while yelling out a word. 
  At that a deafening shockwave of sound blasts through the Arena.  Laereth, 
completely disoriented from the blast, turns and continues to stagger back 
towards his entry doors.

    Dashing forward, Tellafar's eyes flash with the green fire that has 
become almost a hallmark of the Disciples, sending twin rays at his 
opponent.  Laereth arches as the eldritch flames slam into his back.  The 
flames barely have time to spread across his back the fire continues on, 
bursting from his chest.  The fire explodes from his chest, enguling him for 
a moment before fading out.  As thin wisps of smoke rise from what was once 
his face, he collapses to the ground.

    With a salute to the judges, and the crowd, Tellafar leaves the Arena, 
but not before pausing to ensure Laereth is being cared for.