Working their way through the stands today are priests, rather than bookies. A few dozen people, apparently all the victims of poisoned food, lay here and there among the spectators. According to those in the know, this poisoning is the first indication that Zichlar (the evil demi-god who rules the nation to the south-west named after him) has indeed turned his eyes to Saberhaven. Rumors have been circulating that he may have tired of his assualts on Kalbese, and planned conquests elsewhere. On the sands of the Arena, the vendor responsible for the poisoning dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding the tentacle that sweeps in. Gripping his dagger, he lunges for the displacer beast, but misjudges where it's true position is. His dagger swings through empty air and he stumbles. Limping from the gash in his leg, caused by the bony protusions on the displacer beast's tentacles, he readies himself for another attack. As the beast's tentacles sweep in at him, he manages to stab one with his dagger. His small victory is short-lived however, as the second tentacles tear across his throat, ripping it open. As his lifeblood spills out, he collpases to the ground. A blue beam shoots from one of the side doors into the Arena, freezing the displacer beast in place. As the priests finish taking care of those who aren't too far gone, the beast and the corpse of the vendor are dragged out of the Arena. With a half-dozen dead, the man's shade will no doubt be called back to answer questions. As the guard quietly carry away the bodies of those the priests were unable to save, the announcer declares the next fight. Another in the mini-tourney to fill the ranks of the Top 50 fighters, this fight pits Borosk of the Disciples of the Stormhawk against Ivor, the svirfneblin warrior who has yet to be defeated. First to enter the Arena is Ivor. As in previous battles, the warrior appears as little more than a gray blur, vaguely discernable as a gnome. As Borosk enters at the other end of the Arena he says loudly, "I see there are two disciples in this tourney. I aim to put that right." With that he brings his bow up, an arrow nocked and ready. Borosk enters the Arena covered head to toe in armor, from his black armor said to have been made from a dragon's hide, to the magnificent, gem-studded helm that rests atop his head. His matching scimitars rest in their scabbards at his waist, and his cloak billows out behind him. However, he doesn't have time to respond to Ivor before the announcer gives the signal to begin. Ivor releases his arrow, sending it flying across the Arena. As it soars, a duplicate arrow appears next to it. It looks like he aimed high though, as both arrows soar through the arrow a couple feet above his opponents head, narrowly missing the glittering stones floating there. At the announcer's signal, Borosk utters a word and his ring flares, sending a light pulsing up his arm to his face, where it seeps into his eyes, setting them glowing briefly, before the light fades. "Something will change in the tourney today." Borosk replies, "Two Disciples, and no gnome." With that he draws his scimitars and starts running toward Ivor. "Curses," mutters Ivor as he moves forward slightly, pulling once more on his bowstring, an arrow suddenly appearing. "So you think I'll fall over dead when you look at me, then?" he asks of his opponent. "It's possible, but I doubt it." As Borosk races across the Arena, Ivor launches arrow after arrow at his foe. Mystically, a duplicate arrow appears beside each of them as they fly across the Arena. As his quick-moving opponent covers the distance between them, Ivor's arrows fly at him. As they continue to go a couple feet above Borosk's head, it becomes evident that the fighter is not the target. Two of the stones circling Borosk's head burst into powder as the gnome's arrows hit them. As Ivor pulls back for another shot, he suddenly curses as his sleeve gets caught in the bowstring, ruining his shot. At about the same time, Borosk, who by this time has gotten to where he is only about 90 feet away, pulls himself to a stop. The sunlight glints off his armor as he slams his wrists together, producing a deafening crash. An almost visible wave of sound rushes forward, straight for Ivor. However, in it's wake the gnome shows no sign of discomfort. Glaring across at his opponent, Borosk's eyes flash, sending forth a killing ray of green energy. Although Ivor ducks to the side, the green ray still slams into him, sending tendrils snaking all along his body. As the light fades, there is the distinct smell of burnt flesh, but with his outline blurred, there is no way of telling how badly injured the svirfneblin is. "Well? Do you like the gaze of the Stormhawk?" Borosk shouts while he raises both scimitars and runs at the gnome. As has been seen in his rapid crossing of the Arena, Borosk is obviously being aided by magic to help him move quicker. As he closes the distance, bringing him within melee range, his eyes flash once more. This time however, almost as soon as the green flames reach Ivor, they fade away into nothingness. The small gnome, seeing the armor-plated human bearing down on him, goes into a defensive crouch, though his hands remain empty of weapons. Seconds later, Borosk reaches him, scimitars sweeping in. Ivor tries to grab one of the incoming scimitars. The blade slams into his hand, causing him to pull it back, but draws no blood. Ivor's hands ball into fists and slam forward, but they are apparently deflected by Borosk's armor, as evidenced by the metallic clanking each time the gnome's fists connect. At the same time, Borosk's scimitars slash repeatedly at the gnomes body. It seems impossible that Ivor could have dodged them all, but after a score of attacks, not a drop of blood has been spilled. It looks like Borosk got him with the hilt a couple times though, as a few bruises can be seen on his head. As the two combatants continue the close melee, Borosk's eyes flash once more. The green flames leap at Ivor, burning into him. Trying to focus past the pain, Ivor continues his assualt. His hands continue to pound at his foe, though seemingly to little or no effect. Simultaneously, Borosk's scimitars flash in spinning arcs, coming in at all angles to attack Ivor. In the stands, it is hard to tell if any of them are hitting. One of the attacks is ruined when Ivor actually grabs one of the scimitars. Another can be clearly seen arcing for Ivor's neck. Though it hits, and scrapes across the svirneblin's throat, the scimitar fails to break the skin. "You have strong magic protecting you," says the gnome, "but your skill is low. I may not be able to harm you now, but we can find out what's been done, and I'm hardly finished yet." As Borosk's scimitars continue their lightning-fast attack sequence, Ivor's feet lift off the ground. The scimitars slice in, again scoring hits but drawing no blood. As Borosk pulls back for another attack, Ivor reaches out with one hand. However, before the gnome can score a hit, one of Borosk's scimitars sweeps across, knocking Ivor's hand to the side. As Ivor, his feet now about three feet off the ground, continues to rise, Borosk's eyes flash green as they release their fire. The gnome grunts as the fire washes over him, but pushes aside the pain. His hand punches out again, but is again deflected by one of Borosk's scimitars, which then sweep in to attack again, and though they still fail to draw any blood, it is evident that they are causing Ivor some pain. Ivor by this time is almost seven feet in the air, and as Borosk stretches to continue his attack, one of the gnome's hands goes to his belt, retreiving what looks like a table-tennis paddle, though it's hard to tell for sure due to the blurring effect surrounding the svirfneblin. Ivor swings the paddle, and a round crystal (about 1" diameter), trailing a string, flies from it, straight at Borosk. The crystal bounces off Borosk with no apparent harm done, and flies back to Ivor. As it gets to him, Ivor hits the crystal with the paddle, sending it flying back at Borosk. Although this attack too fails to harm Borosk, the third time there is a crunching sound as the crystal slams into Borosk's chest. Ivor, slowly continuing to rise higher into the air, retrieves a second paddle from his belt, and quickly sends two of the large crystals flying for Borosk. Though he tries to dodge to the side, he is a bit too slow, and both of the crystals slam into his back. The crowd watches as Borosk reaches to the ring on his right hand. Suddenly a shimmering field appears around him, settling over his armor. Spinning around, Borosk's eyes flash green as the killing fire again springs from them. The mystic flames race for Ivor, but wash over him with no apparent effect. Glaring up at his foe, Borosk watches as Ivor's crystals again fly at him. This time though, they bounce off without effect. Attacking again, Ivor watches as his weapons again fail to harm his enemy. As Ivor replaces the paddles at his belt and reaches for his bow, Borosk grins up at him and touches a gem which hangs from a chain on his neck. A soft glow washes over him, healing bruises as it goes. "Not bad my little friend." he shouts. "However, you can start all over again now." Ivor, seemingly ignoring the taunt, begins rapidly send arrows raining down on his foe. Although the shots are dead on, the arrows are deflected as they reach Borosk, richocheting off to the sides with no damage. "Well, THAT is a good idea." Borosk grins as he pulls a large bow from his back. Ivor laughs. "You are predictable, and rely on baubles rather than skill." he informs his opponent. "You may yet prevail in this contest, but at least I have shown your weaknesses." He then swoops in to continue his attack. By the time Borosk has his first arrow knocked, Ivor has flown to within a few feet, and brings his paddles back into play. Once more the stones arc forward, only to bounce off without effect. After the first pair of attacks however, Ivor stops his assault, instead focusing on dodging Borosk's attacks. With his foe too close for him to use his bow, Borosk moves quickly to retrieve his scimitars. Within seconds he has them out, and slicing at Ivor. However, as before, although they manage to hit, they fail to cut into the gnome. As the blades continue to slice in, there is heard a loud popping noise, followed by a groan from Borosk. At the same time, his attacks stumble, then stop. As Ivor continues to send the magical stones lashing forward, Borosk grins at his opponent. "Speaks the flying one with the magical field. You continue to call me weak. But if I defeat you, what does that make you? Defeated by a weakling?" With that Borosk launches himself into another attacking frenzy. While moving slowly, his scimitars still weave a mesh of death around the gnome. Although it looks like both warriors are skillfully using their weapons, neither seems to be having much effect on his foe. The stone richochet off every time they hit, and the scimitars still are unable to draw even a single drop of blood. Ivor flies away from his opponent, then stops briefly. "No, not defeated by a weakling," he says, "but by those not present here. I would be the last to think myself too good. Life is all about learning. Today I have learnt something. Personally, I hope others have learnt something too. We shall just have to wait and see. "But that is for another day, and I'll leave you to fight that battle then." With that, and a signal to the judges acknowledging his defeat, the gnome turns and flies back to his entry doors. Muttering something under his breath, Borosk watches the gnome walk off the Arena floor, then turns to the crowd, raising his swords in the air, the blades shining like silver in the light of he sun. "In the name of the Stormhawk I dedicate this battle to those who have fallen to foul poisoning while waiting for a fight in the Arena." "Poison." he speaks the word like he tastes it. "A word which is foul in itself. The Stormhawk would never allow such a thing to happen. Know this, good people of Saberhaven. The Disciples will stand besides you during this time of trouble. If there is ANY way we can stop these atrocities ... we will try!" With that the fighter walks away.