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Favoring his newest victor, the owner of the arena had paid a powerful sorcerer to wrap the sky in a dense gray-black cloud that threatened to rain but never did. Aradia had already won every single battle she'd entered - over two dozen - without so much as trying. But the combatants were all simpletons. This night, she had been promised a challenge. Of course, her new 'employer' wouldn't dare let her die, so this was only to be a death match (as was usually the case) if Aradia was the one doing the killing. Naturally, no one knew this except the owner of the arena and the sorcerer he'd hired for the night.

There had been a light breeze throughout the surrounding lands that night, but the sorcerer had ceased that altogether within the arena. Now the battle was up to Aradia, though, as she entered the arena with the hood of her cloak up. She wore a mask in the shape of a spider upon her face to further conceal her features; even her employer knew not what she was, though he had most certainly tried to convince her on several occasions to remove the mask - that he would (supposedly) not recoil in horror or anything. She smiled as she thought about this on her way to her starting position within the arena. How little the pathetic human knew.

She didn't care about the fact that he and his kind were always intent on their own interests and easily persuaded (and employed) besides, though. She was far too concerned on observing her surroundings with her finely tuned senses. Finally, though, the crowd swiftly grew silent as she entered. A dead silence remained for several long seconds before muted murmurs and hushed whispers sprang up throughout regarding the unknown champion. Any idiot could tell she was a woman, but who was she? Certainly no mere combatant. Anyone that got past her spellcraft didn't stand a chance against her fighting skills. That was a given. Who was she?

Aradia eyed them nonchalantly as she awaited her champion to arrive. She was bored with them, really - but the gold was excellent and she wasn't about to throw that away because she was 'bored. Her eyes lowered, though, as her opponent finally entered the ring. Sound was muted again, almost as though the crowd was holding its collective breath, as the opponent made its way to the center of the ring. They didn't need to shake hands or bow or anything, fortunately. They just needed to fight - and of course, only one would leave alive, unless Aradia's life was spared by the wizard. The battle was announced quickly when they arrived, and Aradia - her lips concealed beneath her mask, immediately began a muttering a silent spell...

"This is bad," the man muttered, pacing up and down the road outside the battlestand "I've run out of people already, I'd never think she'd get through them that fast, it's good money but nobody going to pay much to see a woman beat down people in one second flat, there's no entertainment in that.
The man's dilemma continued to wrap itself around his tiny mind, the fact that such a display of skill was impressive but didn't mount for a good long fight was a hard pressing matter, it was a case of quantity over quality and there were many people who proffered one over the other.

"Perhaps I should get that sorcerer to fight her? Admittedly that would ruin the effect of the fog once the battles over but it should make for good entertainment," he contemplated this decision for a few minutes before tossing it into the bin completely.
He looked up after a while and noticed something red moving in his direction. The man raised an eyebrow as the thing moved closer and he soon realized that the red thing turned out to be a girl, a fairly young girl too. He straightened up, not wishing to make public his problem.
"Good evening miss," he said politely as the girl approached.
"I guess so," Alchemy replied without glancing at him.

She stopped just in front of the battlestand and gazed up at it, a faraway expression on her face.
"Can I help you?" The man asked.
"What's this place?" Alchemy asked.
"Err..." He was unsure how to answer "It's a battlestand, people fight for others entertainment."
"People pay to watch fighting? Alchemy replied "How curious."
It was then that the man noticed the sword strapped to Alchemy's side, a long samurai sword with a black hilt.
"You seem to have potential for, how shall I put it?...Combat," the man said, an idea popping into his head "How would you like to have a try at it here, maybe earn yourself some gold in the process?"
"Well, I already have a job, but I guess that's be okay," Alchemy replied.

Well, it was only a few minutes later when Alchemy was actually walking out into the arena and took in the cheering crowd and the dark thing hanging overhead that had certainly not been there when she'd gone in, perhaps it was going to rain. She turned and saw what she presumed was the person she'd be fighting, however she couldn't see the face for her mask.
"Hello," she said politely, not even noticing what the stranger was doing.

Aradia had paid dearly for the mask, but it had been more than worth it. Onyx did not wear away the way other stone did when it rained and it was almost impossible to destroy - especially if magically enchanted not to be destroyed. Plus, the design was complicated and painstakingly detailed. As a result, it wasn't a cheap mask - not at all - and it had most certainly not been inexpensive. So as Aradia looked upon the combatant through the eyeholes of her new mask, she found herself rather proud of it. Fortunately, though, it didn't show through the mask. The best way to throw off an opponent, after all, was to ensure the opponent didn't think you felt anything - or cared one way or the other about the outcome of the match. That was truly unnerving for most people, Aradia had found, and it was something she had come to use to her advantage.

She didn't respond to the male, not verbally anyway, as he greeted her. He had reached the center of the arena and while everyone was talking, the noise was so minimal that the man's voice carried easily on the still night air. Even without her exceptional elven hearing, Aradia could have perfectly heard even a whisper at this point, for so quiet was the Battlestand at this point as the people awaited the beginning of the battle. They were in awe of Aradia, for no one could fight the way she did - or at least no one ever had. Not in the Battlestand, at any rate. They'd seen some pretty impressive fights in the past, but this mysterious stranger was something else altogether. How little they knew.

Her eyes said it all as she stared at the man unblinking and silently. She was contemplating the best way to kill him as she uttered the words of her spell. A shadow nearby began to whirl about almost imperceptibly, taking a seemingly invisible yet very real form as it rose from the ground - a shadow amongst shadows and a deadly enemy indeed. As soon as she finished one spell, though she began another...

Normally Nathaniel was not one to attend these sorts of things. The warrior was usually busy fighting battles of his own, if not partaking in the necessities of life; sleep, booze and women. Lately he'd only been able to get his hands on alcohol though, and his somewhat pale appearance showed that. There was a special fondness he had for alcohol though; Nathaniel was a man who was constantly alert and with a sharp attention to detail, to the point he was very rarely relaxed. Enough grog tended to numb his his senses though, and there was a pleasant fading of everything.

So why wasn't he busy drinking away the hours right now? Or better yet off on another adventure? Simply because, like some cat, his curiosity had been pricked. Nathaniel had a weakness when it came to his investigations, he could rarely let things alone. So when he heard tales of a magnificent warrior who fought like a dragon but wore the body of a lithe female, he absolutely had to see for himself. Supposedly her combat was a unique style, no less.

So far he wasn't terribly impressed.

The sky overhead threatened doom and danger for those not indoors, and peskily kept the light more or less hidden. Without any lit torches down in the arena, it was at times difficult to see some of the more complex movements-- if not altogether impossible. Plus, having arrived late (he hadn't thought he was late, though apparently fifteen minutes before a battle was not adequate) he was stuck in one of the higher areas of the stands and couldn't even see the footwork.

The female warrior hadn't done anything to truly awe him, in fact he hadn't seen her at all. Every feature was hidden, if not by armor then a perfectly carved onyx mask of a spider. At this point it could have been a lanky boy fighting for all the crowd knew; indeed, it likely was something along those lines if the figure continued to win without stipulation. Or the games were rigged, which was even less exciting. The best warriors were always brought back for an encore; even if death snaked its hand about their throats, a sorcerer was usually on scene to revive them.

With a flabbergasted sigh that was perhaps a little more dramatic than need be he perched his feet up on the back of the chair set ahead of him. A new figure had entered the arena, and he could make out little except red. It could have been clothing or hair for all he knew or cared. Muttering quietly he scanned the aisles, to see if he could find a way to scarper down into an unused seat more closer to the action, ignorant to the fact the fight had begun and already a shadow beast arose to aid the reigning champion.

Aradia watched the man's every movement, paying no attention to the crowd. They were of no real importance to her. They were really just food for thought, witnesses to a spectacle that brough gold to Aradia each night beneath the veil of the stars and the damning light of the wicked moon that hung in the sky overhead. If not for the light, Aradia might not have worn the hood at all. Then again, though, there was something to be said for stealth when one was stalking a target, especially one that knew it was being stalked and didn't like it. Fearful targets were no challenge at all; typically they fled or fought like some wild animal - and were thus easily controlled.

But a warrior ready for battle, though - that was something else entirely. While it was most certainly true that Aradia was no warrior - only the inferior males of the drow race held weapons in such a manner as to remain practically unstoppable even by the surface worlds seemingly rare weapon masters - it was also true that just as warriors from Melee-Magthere learned the tenements of faith Lolth, the Spider Queen, from Arach-Tinilith and the basics of wizardry from Sorcere, wizards and clerics alike also learned the basics of weaponry. As a drow female, Aradia's fate as a cleric - and eventually a High Priestess - in eternal service to Lolth had been sealed. She didn't mind it so much, though; she was exceptionally greatful to be able to please the Spider Queen - though of course she had fallen well out of her favor now.

But that was neither here nor there. The point was that she was still a drow, whatever her path or career, and that meant she had the edge in most combat situations - most, not all. But most was usually enough...

It wasn't everyday the young red-head found herself gazing about in awe at a huge crowd cheering on for nothing more than brutal combat for their entertainment, satisfying their reptilian mindset and putting money in the pockets of greedy dealers, neither was it often that these tens of thousands of people would observe a girl in her late teens, barely even adult yet, walking into the battlestand with a bemused expression on her face and looking as though she'd hardly even lifted the longsword she held at her side.

Indeed, Alchemy was in a state of awe, and had momentarily forgotten the whole reason she was here. The young girl had never seen so many people in one place at once, living as she did in the village of Estalod and not being used to such large amounts of people in one place, sure she'd visited the city square when it was crowded, but the numbers there were nothing compared to what she was observing at the moment. It was as though she'd been thrown into a forest of people, where instead of trees living beings would take root and grow to fill the dull landscape and fill it with their noises and cheers of oncoming battle, and right now Alchemy was a mere rose bud planted in the same bed as a large orchid that was unwilling to share its turf with so meager a flower. But roses have thorns.

The expression the girl held as she observed her opponent with was one of confusion, it was rude that she hadn't responded to Alchemy's greeting and was in fact ignoring her, perhaps that mask they were wearing was nullifying any sound sent to them. Another source of Alchemy's confusion was as to what on Ea the woman was doing, it sounded like she was muttering something but there was nobody about to hear her, it looked a little strange.

Whatever the strange muttering did to Alchemy's tiny powers of reasoning it was nothing to what came next. A shadow emerged from out of the air in front of the masked stranger, forming from the words she'd strung together and taking a more or less solid form. Alchemy stared up at this new wonder and suddenly remembered what she was doing here, although she had no clues as to how to go about it. She racked her brains for a few moments before she raised her arm and muttered experimentally, the strange shadow swimming into her mind's eye for some reason.
"Paereloli Thastaer, tar pyrn thys si Caelae.."

A flame red stream of mana flowed out of Alchemy's hand and she felt suddenly drained, then the clouds above swirled, slowly at first, but then gathering speed until a hole opened up and a pillar of flame shot down towards the shadowy beast and impacted against the ground, sending embers and waves of heat out as it did so and leaving a small burning patch on the blackened ground.
"Oops," Alchemy exclaimed "I think I overdid it!"

The column of flame did not disrupt Aradia's spell, for indeed it was completed as the girl came back to her senses. She had bested seasoned warriors, yet she was supposed to battle a mere girl tonight? Yet the girl seemed to have at least some talent, though, as she began to draw in power for a spell. Even Aradia could feel the subtle vibrations of the intangible fabric the girl was weaving with her words, and it wasn't long before Aradia's spell wasn't the only one flying.

A wave of fear spread out from Aradia, seeking to destroy the willpower and minds of all that were caught in its deadly swath of magical power. Indeed, the wave was like a broad heatwave that covered a vast expanse of ground in just a short time, like an explosion of magical energy struggling to engulf a thousand worlds and only managing one. But that one was the Battlestand in which Aradia now combatted her newfound opponent, her victim of the evening, as the fear streaked toward her with numbing speed.

Realizing what was about to happen, though, Aradia whipped her eyes away immediately. She shut them tight as the bright flash of light streaked toward the ground. When she looked back, all that was left of the shadow she'd conjured was a blackened pit in the ground. Her eyes narrowed and a dagger suddenly came into her hand, seemingly from nowhere, as she began casting again...

Having maneuvered his way past half-blinded spectators (crawling over them occasionally) Nathaniel had made his way farther down the arena and could now see the action. The bright flash from the flames had offered smaller pupils in the sea of pitched blue eyes, but now that the world was bathed in shadows once more he found himself barely able to see. Groggily he rubbed at his eyes, the action familiar to him for an entirely different reason.

"Come on, think!" Nathaniel muttered darkly to himself, a sneer to his words. There'd barely been any outright attacks; nothing that sent blood or limbs flying. Really the two females had barely moved from their stances at all (he'd moved up enough to inspect Alchemy more closely). Instead the reigning champion had been standing there like some statue, occasionally letting fly magic. Instead of standing around letting her do that, the red haired woman needed to interrupt her magic and force her to fight in close corners.

True the masked warrior was skilled with weaponry, however she held but a dagger; far more smaller than the longsword of the new arrival. It would take a lot more precision to block blows, and to get close enough to use it would be near impossible when the enemy already knew she was there. There was still the chance the less seasoned of the two (or so it appeared, anyways) would fall to the dagger, but it would be more fun to watch than the two standing about using magic.

Bah. I hate magic.

They needed to make this interesting somehow. Perhaps set free a few animals to really add to the chaos, or throw in a few slaves. Though both could be dispatched if such strong spells were custom to the two, he knew that one moment of distraction might be enough to tip the battle. Not that he cared either way; sport was sport. However, it'd be nice to see this victim challenger put up a fight. A glorious one, if he had any control over it. One worthy of being retold and whispered to others. What better way to elevate a battle to status worthy of being painted, than to add a few more people into the fray?

Once more his attention withdrew from the battle at hand, scanning the spectators for any who had brought dogs or falcons. He'd just pick the animal and toss it in if need be.

Aradia's lips moved almost silently, though they could not be seen past the ebony-hued obsidian of the mask that many on the surface would would have called disturbing at best. Indeed, who would be courageous enough to wear a spider upon their face, let alone one as intricately detailed as the one upon the face of Aradia at this very moment? She felt the flow of divine power mixed with arcane magic ripple through her, a binding made by her Matron Mother so many years ago now that she barely remembered it - but a binding to each other and to her body that would make it almost impossible for her magic to fail. Indeed, it had been done as a precautionary measure should her House ever fall out of Lolth's favor, and perhas it had actually caused such disfavor as that which was to be prevented, but it had also made her stronger and more powerful than she could have otherwise been - which only made her rise faster in the ranks of Arachn-Tinilith and become more dangerous whilst in the Underdark.

But she was in the Underdark no longer. Now she was on the surface world, and over the course of the last two years her magic had been put to the test many times over. Her training under the rauko that had saved her life some time ago had made her exponentially more powerful, too, and as her magic neared its completion an even stronger shadow than the one previously conjured began to take shape. Any idiot could tell that this shadow was even more solid than the one before, and as the last word was uttered, it rose from the ground and glided swiftly to its target. Aradia had yet to see the spell of fear take hold, but if it didn't, her stronger shadow would more than do the trick...

Alchemy was beginning to have second thoughts all of a sudden. She had never really gotten into a fight before and had never undergone any sort of training, or at least no training that she could remember. However she had to have learned to cast that fire pillar spell somewhere, but even if she'd learned it in the past surely it should have been forgotten along with everything else but for some reason Alchemy could remember how to do it. She swallowed nervously, if she could make a pillar of fire strike down then what else could she do? That spell hadn't taken much out of her so there had to be something else that would, she might have to use this match as an experiment.

She was already beginning to scare herself, she wasn't a destroyed or a fighter, she didn't like to hurt people or cause people to hate her, she never wanted to cause a rift between her or anyone else and yet here she was confronting a person she knew nothing of and attempting to do something awful to her. The whole concept of it sent a chill through Alchemy's spine and her mood dropped, the ghost of the smile she'd held before still faltering on her face before it faded as well and her breathing grew heavy.

What was happening to her? She'd never felt this way before in her life, it was as though something was creeping its way under her skin, or through her veins like some sort of venom trying to infect her entire body and cause her to have a mental breakdown, and she was pretty close to it.
Vyri-Sys, her thoughts echoed in her head louder than ever before.
The red-head screwed her eyes up tight and one hand flew to the handle of the longsword, hesitated and then gripped it.
I'm sorry, Vyri-Sys, she thought.
Her eyes snapped open again, wide with terror and seeing nothing but a shadow creeping in front of her. She drew the blade from out of its scabbard and held it up shakily, she didn't know how to use a sword and now wasn't the best time to have such an attribute. She screwed her eyes shut again, waiting for the blow to come.

Do not apologize, child,
"Huh?"
I was created to fight, as were you, so do not be afraid. All that's before you is a shadow, a mere waste product of the elements, it has no true purpose, do not fear it.
Alchemy's eyes snapped open again, she felt like she was trapped in a void of never ending blackness with nothing for company but this dark creature looming upon her.
I don't like fighting Alchemy replied, wondering if the voice could even hear her Why should I hurt people I don't even know?
Because if you don't they will consume you, now cast out your doubts and put all your hopes in me.
But, who are you?

The voice did not answer, however something clicked in the back of Alchemy's mind and she suddenly looked down at her sword, the fear slowly washing away from her face.
"Vyri-Sys?" She muttered slowly.
She looked back up at the shadow looming closer, suddenly her mind was clear and she knew exactly what she had to do. She gripped her sword in both hands and swung it to the side, a fire seemed to erupt behind her eyes and embers began to entwine around her blade, her hair glowed red hot and ashes could be seen falling from it.
"Thys eir o tae vori," she began "Eta-Naru Inferuno!"
She swung the sword over her head and brought it down and the flames grew, jumping off her blade and flying through the air, growing wings and a tail and opening its beak in a wide screech of phoenix song.

The firebird charged at the shadow, intending to defeat it before it reached it master.
"Did I do that?" Alchemy sudden questioned.

Her eyes widened slightly. Not only had the girl shaken off the fear, she had summoned a - whatever that thing was. Some kind of giant bird of fire whose light stung her eyes and forced her pupils to tiny pinprics of blackness amongst a sea of icy-blue, ringed by the whites of her eyes. She blinked hard for some time as she made her move toward the girl from behind, slipping into the shadows of the darkened arena. She melded with the shadows as was the way of all drow, blending with them as though she were one herself.

The phoenix - for that is what it was, unbeknownst to Aradia - dived hard against the stronger shadow. The shadow dived and became a pool of blackness on the ground, the tail of which was ignited with fire and separated from the body. The shadow rose once more, wounded but feeling only the endless, mindless, numbing cold of death. It glided toward its target more swiftly than ever now as Aradia secretly uttered the words of another fear spell from behind. The phoenix was coming around, but it would arrive too late - and the girl could not possibly know that steel was no match for the blackness of a shadow as strong as this one was...

Seven mercenaries shoved their way through the bleachers above the arena. Disruptive to any in their path, they were none the less invisible amongst the teeming throngs of spectators, little more than ants in the broad scheme of things.

The first was the largest, a well muscled human wearing a red tunic, bracers, greaves and a thick belt with an oversized buckle.

The second appeared to be a human of southern stock, dark skin and short crimp hair.

The third was a half-elf, a scrawny type with dark green hair and yellow eyes, dressed in a battered brown jacket with blue breeches.

The third and fourth, humans as well, in general physical description appeared to be identical; similar height, similar light skin tone, similar dark hair color, similar outfits. But upon closer inspection they were nothing alike, the third having a broader nose and a more rounded head, the fourth higher cheek bones and bushier eyebrows.

The fifth was a dwarf, short compared to the humans but of average hieght for his kind, with a greying beard that concealed his mouth.

The last was another human, bald with exotic tatoos scrolling down his arms, as if to advertise his badarseness.

All seven of them had consumed their shares of alcohol before arriving at the battlestand.



"Did you see who was billed to fight?" Asked the third, who went by the name of Rodri.

The fourth, by the name of Edo, answered, "Uh-uh. Did you? What do they look like?"

Rodri stood up from his spot on the bench, watching the contenders enter the ring. "One's kinda...I dunno...gotta mask and a cloak, the other's got red hair..."

"Gotta cover up the ugly mug, like ol' Midnight here." Asked the first in the order, by the name of Hanz, who nudged at the man to his right.

The second fellow, Jufu, responded acidicly, "Getcher hands up off me, dog,"

"The on the poster over there the mask looks like a spider, so maybe it's a drow." Rodri said, dropping back into his seat.

"I hate Drow," Jaz Verdek, the third one in the line, muttered as much to himself as a part of the conversation. His disapproval of the Dark Elves was based on personal experience.

"You mean you hate drows"

"No, its Drow, singular, possessive and plural. Drow."

"You're both wrong. You're saying Drow like D-R-'ow, it bit me!' It's actually pronounced Drow, like Bow and Arrow, only with a DR. 'Drow, a deer, a female deer,' get it?"

"No, that's not..."

"Red haired chicks are so hot!" The tatooed one interrupted, with a hungry eye and suggestive lick of his lips, "You know what they say about red haired chicks, don't you?"

Edo was confused. "They have red eyebrows?"

"Yeah," he nodded excitedly before the reply struck home, "Wait...no..that's not what I meant..."

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" The large man at the end stood up from the bench, bellowing at the arena, "PULL SOME HAIR, SLAP HER LIKE A WITCH! CLAW AT HER! REEEEOOW!"

"Ooch, lahddie donnah bay gettin oos intae trouble on the noo!" The dwarf shouted back at Hanz with his barely decipherable Dwarvish burr.

Jaz moaned, hanging his head. He was too drunk to put up with this right now. It was going to be a long day.

[Edit: Corrected. They're just guessing now. Didn't see the mask reference earlier. Without it, White hair and Pitch-black skin is kind of a dead giveaway]

((Um...no way in hell could they tell she was a drow...I guess they could've guessed, but she's completely covered. :blink: Just letting you know. :/ ))

Aradia was closing in on her target now, and so was the stronger shadow. As she moved, though, she uttered the words and made the hand signs for another spell. Her fear spell had already left her lips and fingers, spiraling swiftly toward the redhead, but now she summoned another shadow - a lesser shadow this time - to distract the redhead from the side. Using combat and magic in conjunction was something drow were especially adept at, but even combat or magic alone was powerful and deadly when used by a drow.

Finally, the shadow formed, the three converged on the opponent. The redhead was about to die. Aradia rushed forward, excitement building as a smile played upon her lips in anticipation of the coming kill. It was a small, cold, cruel, sadistic smile - one that could not be seen even by those who knew where to look, for such was the concealment of a mask. Indeed, she was excited, though this was but a simple kill for her. Her days of boredom were over for the most part, for she had found her niche in society, but in between the battles there was always the mundane - and if she didn't find something to keep her occupied soon, she'd go mad and then things would really get messed up in this surface world.

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing, Aradia had time to think to herself dryly as she rushed in. She slammed her dagger home as she came toward the girl's back, the phoenix using all its speed but still too far away to stop the two shadows and the drow from destroying the girl. She'd better have one hell of an escape plan...

((Considering the 'Summon Phoenix' spell is more expensive than the summon stronger shadow spell I should imagine the phoenix is a lot stronger and faster than the shadow. Plus it's godmodding to control another person summons and assume things about them))

Alchemy had surprised herself more than anybody else in the crowds around them might have been, for one thing she had never even heard that strange voice before and neither did she remember ever being told the spell to summon that huge fiery bird, let alone remember the bird itself. This whole day was slowly turning her world upside down and tossing it about like some sort of rag doll.

She pulled herself back into the present and forced herself to focus on the fight currently going on around her, spacing out now wasn't going to do her any good. As she looked about she noticed another shadow had emerged and the masked fighter was attempting to attack her from three sides. She felt the same feeling of loss try and creep its was through her brain and she tried to ignore it, however her hands were shaking on the handle of her sword.
Do not be afraid,

Taking out the shadows would be easy enough, however Alchemy was next to hopeless at actual physical combat and even if the shadows were defeated she still faced the problem of the woman who summoned them.
"Vyri-Sys," Alchemy said in a strangely commanding voice, surprising herself more than anybody else.
Her phoenix opened up its raging wings and sped forwards like a red hot bullet, plunging into the scene and sending flares and embers flying in all directions, the light and warmth warding the shadows away as the bird embraced Alchemy with her wings.

Once this task was done, Alchemy raised her own weapon, somehow managing to catch the strike aimed at her by the woman's dagger and use it to her advantage, reversing the angle of her own weapon against the woman's and taking a diagonal slash at her face.
"I'm sorry," she muttered as the blade swung through the air.

((Sorry...))

As the night wore on, so too did the battle. The woman seemed to be scared yet confident, a paradox the drow about to attack her didn't miss. Regardless, she still had to snap her eyes shut as the bird came on. Then she heard the sword come whirling through the air. She almost chuckled, and would have if she'd had time to, for it was a straightforward strike that most drow learned when they first picked up a sword or scimitar.

Aradia dodged the attack easily, taking a step back. As the light and heat diminished, Aradia slowly opened her eyes. She didn't need them to do battle, but she preferred them anyway. She kept to the infrared spectrum, though, and watched as a heat-bordered pocket of cold air moved toward the girl from behind. The lesser shadow had been destroyed. The stronger shadow had been very badly wounded, but it was healing swiftly and coming on from behind the girl almost as swiftly. Another strike might destroy it, so long as it came from the phoenix - for no mundane weapon could touch a stronger shadow - but for now, it was going to attack the girl.

Aradia, meanwhile, snapped back almost immediately, feinting to one side and then coming around to jab at the girl's heart. She was going to finish this battle and finish it well, as she always had. One of them would walk away. The other would never get up off the ground again. Aradia had absolutely no intention whatsoever of being the one on the ground whose blood pooled in the cracks of the dirt...

The seven mercenaries watched as the two combatants came at each other. Rabbits of the battlefield, their actions involved short bursts of intensity followed by calculated pauses. One flashed her arms, summoning a firey pheonix, while the other created moving shadows.

Hanz displayed his disapproval, flinging a rotten tomato with all his inhebriated might. "Boo! Stop summoning birds! Pull out your sword! Stab each other already! I wanna see blood, dash it!" Finding his hands on a cabbage, he loosed that towards the arena as well, though its flight faltered, dropping onto the spectators in the first row of bleechers. Just as the vegetables, his effusive invective failed to find its mark on the combatants, who no doubt couldn't hear him yelling from over the roar of the audience.

"Hey, Hanz," Edo shouted, bringing the big drunks head spinning, "Stop wasting vegetables, you drunk! Holy hell, save something, at least a carrot or two, for everyone else!"

"This wine is the shiz-nit," Jufu said, nudging Jaz in the shoulder to change subjects, "Here try some, Jaz."
(20)
Jaz groggily looked up, the alcoholic buzz bluring his vision. "Huh? What's up Patrick?"

Jufu's head bobbed drunkenly. "Huh? My name ain't Patrick."

"Oh, yeah, sorry Jufu, you're shirt reminds me of my old friend Patrick, he went for the wine too."

"Here, check this wine though. It's the shiz-nit!"

Jaz shifted his beer to his right hand, taking the bottle from the man with left, as much to shut him up as out of desire to drink wine. Upended the bottle, taking a long satifying gulp. Lacking refined taste, Jaz thought the wine tasted just like fermented grapes. Predictable, given that's what wine was made from. Not tasting anything special, he was tempted to shrug, but decided instead to amuse his comrade in arms. "I agree. Tastes great," he said sarcastically.

"Aw, give it back," Jufu said, swiping the bottle out of Jaz's grasp, "Can't trust a half-elf to appreciate a good wine."

Jaz huffed. "Don't give me that attitude, I'm not in the mood."

"What's gotten you all cranky today? Loosen up! Freakin' party!"
(40)
"Meh. Aside from being drunk, I had this wierd dream last night..."

"Oh, please tell me about it. I'm a licensed Dream Diviner."

"Really?"

"Yes. No, you idiot, I'm just being sarcastic. But that's not the point. What happened in this dream of yours?"

"We all died."

"That sucks. Well, my prescription is to drink more. You'll be alright."

"I guess you're right." Jaz tossed back his canteen to down some more ale.




A wandering vendor wearing a blue outfit with a matching hat moved among the bleechers to make his rounds. "Popped cahn, getcha popped cahn he'eh! Churros, hahtdahgs, chocolate bahs! Getcha popped corn he'eh!"
(60)
"Popped corn?" Asked the man on his right, Rodri the axefighter, as he took another swing of beer from his canteen.

"Yeah, you know, popped corn? Corn. Plus water. They cook it, it pops."

""Huh," Jaz remarked, "Sounds odd."

"You know what's better?"

"What?"

"Hey, guy!" He shouted at the vendor, who began moving in the direction of the mercenaries. "Yah got live squid?"

"Sure do. Straight from the Island."

"Lemme get two, please."

"He'eh yah go boyo. Two gold pieces." The concessionaire said, forking a pair of (80) baby squid from a container that was latched to his belt.

"Live. Squid?" Jaz couldn't believe his eyes, watching as the little cephalopods dropped squirming into Rodri's hands.

"All the rage on Hauhidar Island," Rodri, the axeman said with a mean grin.

"You're kidding me."

Rodri forced one into Jaz's unsuspecting hands. "Nope. Freakin' awesome."

Jaz sat back in amazment, feeling the squishy little thing thrash about in his palm. "How are you supposed to eat it? Doesn't it wiggle?"

"Just toss it in your mouth. Chomp on it, gulp it down."

"Sounds homoerotic. Don't the tenticles get stuck on your tongue?"

"The idea is that you don't give it the chance. Watch." Rodri tossed the thing into his mouth, chomping hard once then gulping the creature down. Rodri finished (100)with an emphatic smacking of his lips. "Yum"

"Oh, good lord."

"Don't knock it until you try it."

"Famous last words."

"Come on, live a little."

"Here goes nothing."

The squid, eyes bobbing, flailed its whip-like tentacles as Jaz's teeth decended on its rubbery flesh. He gave the longest swallow he had ever experienced, the creature dropping down the esophagal hatch down into the beer-filled hole below. Distracted from the effort, Jaz lost track of his other bodily functions, releasing flatulance with a slight burp of his rear end. His face redenning from the struggle with the squid as much as his bowel movement, he casually sniffed the air to see if anyone would notice his momentary indiscretion.

(120)"Smelling great kid," Rodri said with a smirk, letting Jaz know he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Thanks," he said before returning to the conversation at hand. "Sweet lord that thing was awful. I think I can feel it moving in my stomach."

"Don't worry about that. Your stomach acids will kill it in a few minutes. Just drink more, you'll be alright."

"Great," Jaz reached under the bench for his canteen, needing some fresh beer to wash it down. His hand found only air. He looked down, searching for his beverage holder. Hey, where'd my canteen go?"

"Ach, the oother laddie took et," the Dwarf said, swinging around Rodri but jesturing to where Ponti, the balding heavily tatooed swordsman had been sitting.

"What? Where'd he go?"

"Hey guys, look what I got!" Ponti's voice rang out.

(140)Jaz cut off any other serious reply. "What did you do with my canteen, you bilge rat?"

"Sold it for this magical hammer!" Ponti said, holding up a palm sized maul.

"What?"

"Yeah, got a deal from that shady guy over there. Tim the Enchanter, I think his name was." The tatooed fellow waved a thumb at one of the kiosk vendors, a fellow with a grey beard, wearing a strange hat outfitted with rams horns.

"You traded my canteen for a novety hammer?" Jaz's voice dimmed as he shivered with rage, his eyes glancing from the bald mercenary to the vendor.

"No, no! It's magical!" The tatooed mercenary yelped appologetically, "He said it's so powerful it could pulverize a hippopotamus!"

"Gimme that," Jaz said, climbing out of his seat. Abetted by his drunken stupor, Jaz's feet tangled on the bench, preventing him properly directing his inertia. He (160) tumbled over, crashing down face first into the aisle, smashing his nose on the concrete floor. He reached out with his hand, trying to gain purchase to leverage himself back up. Unfortunately, all his hand found was Edo's beer mug, knocking the goblet over resulting in the emptying of its contents on his head. Jaz gagged at the smell of his ale-drenched hair. Seeing him struggle, his comrades laughed heartily, then pitched in a hand to aid him. Having helpful hands happily helping him up, Jaz quickly got back to his feet. He shook his head, ensuring that the other mercenaries, along with quite a few other people sitting nearby, recieved a spray of the liquid in return.

"I think you need to quit drinking, Jaz," Hanz commented.

"I agree," It was all Jaz could think about as he nursed his nose.



"Hey, you," Jaz said, walking up on Tim The Enchanters's kiosk. He pointed at his canteen, which sat prominantly on the table. "Gimme my canteen back."

The enchanter turned, smiling at him with a mischevious grin. "Sorry, chummer," Tim said with a smile, crossing his arms, "No refunds. A deal's a deal. All sales are final."

"I'll give you final." Jaz flipped the table over, then shoved the startled Tim with all the aggression he could pull out of his drunken spirit. Tim toppled backwards, knocking more chinsy items off the kiosk's interior walls. An elven carpet fell to (180) the floor behind his head.

"Hey, what the hell you arse!" Tim screamed in terror, "I'm calling the guards!"

Jaz walked up, lashing out a hard kick the fallen Tim full in the chest. The wind drove from Tim's lungs with a verbalized cough. Stealing from mercenaries was always bad idea. So Tim learned his leason. He never did that again.

"Glad we could have this discussion," Jaz said, picking up his canteen. Jaz dropped the hammer next to Tim's face, turned, then walked away. He had a fight to watch. Or, at least, get drunk during.