Wurzag had to admit he was impressed.

He had been given the freedom to choose the locations of his previous matches and had tried to pick places and situations that would make to battle interesting. The last thing he wanted to do was judge a boring fight, so the addition of a few environmental hazards was very welcome. By him if not the contestants. Nothing he had ever envisaged had come close to the setting for the tournament final however and he was suddenly very grateful that he only had to judge the battle and not participate.

"Well Froat," the half-orc rumbled to his scarlet familiar, "I dunt fink we will need to tinker wiv anyfing 'ere, it all looks just fine da way it is." The lupine, as usual, said nothing.

Roiling clouds of smoke and vapour belched from the maw of the mountain casting a gloomy pall for miles around. Fine, gray ash fell constantly from the dirty sky and clung to every surface, filled the mouth and nose and found its way into every nook and cranny. The blasted ground was nothing more than a jagged scree of basalt and obsidian that stretched away down the volcano's flanks, it was dotted with sulphur crusted funnels that spewed noxious fumes into the soupy air. It was, in every way, a vision of hell. Wurzag ambled a few paces along the rim of the crater trailed by small puffs of ash and had to catch himself as another of the seemingly endless tremours rocked the earth.

It had taken the half-orc and his companion hours to scale the burning peak during which the rumbling voice of Ea had grown steadily stronger. Now, stood at the mouth of the land the restless shifting of the earth was almost constant. The raw, primal force was terrifying, it dwarfed the efforts of mortal hands. Wurzag peered down the mountainside in an effort to catch sight of the contestants, but they too would have to make the long trek up the slope, a journey that would tire them before their battle had even begun. The green-skin fidgeted in his sweat-slick armour and he considered again removing the suffocating garments. The danger of losing them down a hole was too imminent to be ignored however so he endured the oppressive heat with orcish stoicism.

Then he turned and examined the arena once again.

The dark man's craftsmen had toiled long and hard to make this battlefield and still it would only be a temporary structure. A colossal disc of black basalt hung suspended within the throat of the volcano, held aloft by four massive chains. The half-orc could only guess at the unimaginable and potent arcane forces required to build such an arena but from the whispers it had cost the lives of many slaves. Smoke and gas swirled about the battle-field and wreathed the platform in glowing embers while the constant roar and bubble of the magma far below filled the air. From what he knew of the warriors about to arrive they would be severely hampered by the environment. Then again, the half-orc pondered, anybody would be hampered by this environment.

He turned back to the mountainside and finally saw four figures approaching. Sartana-Kun the sun guardian had apparently found himself a new partner, a tall, sultry warrior woman who sported an eye-patch. Wurzag wondered how the demon hunter would feel cut off from his element by the impenetrable clouds above. The second team however, the House of Osse was new to him. He was aware that its members were a dwarf, Sraxen, who held the favour of the Goddess of Life and Merenwen, the Guardian of Water but had never encountered them personally. If Sartana was going to have difficulty with the surroundings then it was going to be excruciating for Merenwen. He waited until the two teams had completed the climb then looked each of them in the eye. It was possible that some of them would not return alive from this battle and he wanted to remember their faces.

"Well folks," he rumbled to the assembly, "dis is it, I congratulate yooz on 'avin made it dis far, yooz as proved you is da best ov da best." He flashed them a grin, "only one of yooz two teams can truly be da bestest though an dat is wot dis fight is all about."

He turned back to the suspended arena which shifted uneasily on its chains. The platform looked as though it could be extremely unstable once people started running about on it and he didn't like to think about what would happen if they all ended up on the same side. A grappling line had been thrown down the length of each of the chains and secured to the arena floor. Wurzag gestured to the lines and looked over his shoulder at the contestants. "Yooz see dem lines? Each one of yooz gets to slide down one of dem to da arena. When you 'as got der dey is gonna be cut. Der ain't gonna be no way back until da fight is over, den new ones will get chucked down to ya."

This was, of course, providing the whole structure hadn't come free from its moorings and plunged into the abyss. Wurzag didn't feel that it was politic to mention that at this stage though.

"Big respect to da lot of yez," he finally rumbled, "I wouldn't go down der." He paused and sniffed, ash caught in his throat and he spat over the side of the crater. "Gud luck," he said and spread his arms, "I ain't gonna shout about it or order yez around so, when yer ready, an in yer own time."

There was a final pause.

"Fight!"

Thing turned out oddly, didn't they. The mercenary who was so rudely hired to finish off the last round stared at her feet. Boots stared at her back, and she cracked a wry grin. Her eyes glanced over to her partner, Martin. The man tugged at his collar, and gave a heavy sigh. It was the first time she ever saw him looked anything but nonchalant. He normally wasn't a prize fighter, but Charlotte had given him one last chance.

"So you've read through the intelligence, Martin?"
"Aye, and I'm rather surprised, steel wings."
"It wasn't difficult, nor was it cheap. Street ears, bribe-able secretaries, and a couple other manipulatable men lead up to this wonderful moment. The battle will, of course, go according to plan." Charlotte stated. The valkyrie sighed as liberal amounts of sweat poured off her, ruining the strict military clothing she wore. The high collar she wore was emblazoned with a medallion of a pair of steel wings, brilliant little objects that flickered in the odd light.

Lhachlith Volcano, Arda's most difficult to pronounce and live in place. She'd left Pepper at home, as it was doubtful the horse would be worthwhile ally, according to the intelligence dossier she had collated over the past few days. Either way, she knew her difficulties would be numerous. The House of Osse was one of the tournament's dream teams. Unfortunately, however, the guardian of Water would find herself on a short tether. There was no water in this air, no water in the ground, just excruciating amounts of heat. The mercenary fell into a coughing fit momentarily, and in the same breath she had her hands cupped over her mouth.

"This air is as close to unbreathable as you'll get. Those bird-lungs of yours aren't going to be such an advantage here." Martin explained, with the slightest vein of anxiety to his voice. The ferocious blonde nodded, and took a long swig of the hard liquor sitting next to her. She handed it over to Martin, who shook his head and mumbled something about glass etching. The valkyrie shrugged, and finished the drink off with a single swill.

Their oddly rough ride came to a sudden halt, and the two mercenaries passed a single, knowing look to each other. Today would be a grand day for a victory against all odds. They shook hands, and the pair left the cart, collecting their weapons as they went.

"Funny, Martin, I thought they'd be taller."
"Steel wings, when has height ever mattered?"
"When you stand over them as they breathe their last." Charlotte said, her voice full of an odd malice. The two glanced over at their vertically impaired opponents, and Charlotte allowed the rest of her intelligence dossier to fall into place. This wouldn't be hard at all, as long as they could keep the magic to a minimum. As the orc explained their task, Charlotte's mind came alive with disturbing speed. The rest of her battle plan fell into place, and her grin turned into a maniacal laugh as the orc ceased his banter.

"Come along, Martin! This daughter of Chaos has a world to prove wrong!" Charlotte shouted, her voice ringing with the bells of genius. She waved her hand forwards in a sluggish manner, and both took the stroll to their ropes. Charlotte plucked up a length of her rope, and as Martin did the same. They passed a nod, and Charlotte motioned to the platform below. The two rappelled with the expertise of expert soldiers, with no contest to see who got to the ground first, until Charlotte paused.

The blonde held the rope firmly in one hand, her feet planted on the volcano's walls, and she waited for her opponents to get at the same point she was. Then out came the shuriken, a brilliant little object she'd commandeered specifically for moments such as this. The valkyrie threw it with tremendous forced, and the glistening object rounded the edges of the volcano before striking the rope of the guardian of water with tremendous force. It was reduced to threads in moments, and the shuriken sentinel moved to the dwarf's rope, and acted as a buzz saw.

Charlotte hurtled down the rope, rappelling the remaining feet with as much speed as she could muster. Her feet touched the ground in what seemed like heartbeats, and she unsheathed her weapons.

"No breath wasted, Martin." Charlotte stated. The thirty-year old mercenary nodded, even as the first of Charlotte's orders came from her blade. She made a sweeping line between Martin and the dwarf, but returned her blade to a halberd's length from the dwarf. Martin nodded, and moved to the center of the platform as Charlotte stood next to him, her tower shield ready to fend off any surprise blows.

Martin, however, had gone on the offensive immediately. With a mighty swing, he brought the halberd into a blur. The axe head hurtled at the dwarf's legs, in a wild hope that he'd start this fight crippled. Charlotte coughed once more, and wiped sweat from her eyes with her sword-arm's sleeve.

"Gods, why in an active volcano?" Charlotte inquired in a mutter to no one in particular.

Sraxen crumpled the note up and tossed it in the wastebasket, a look of displeasure spreading across his face. The messenger frowned at the Dwarf, genuinely sorry that he was the bearer of the bad news. Sraxen huffed, then reached into his pocket and grabbed a few coins to reward the messenger with, hastily sending the boy on his way.

The healer slumped into a seat at the bar and sneered at the bartender, requesting his usual drink using only his body language. The innkeeper complied, quickly preparing the concoction and setting it down in front of the Dwarf, who immediately took a quick swig and nodded his appreciation.

"Bah," he exclaimed after a few moments of silent drinking. "It can't be." He got back on his feet and retraced his steps to the wastebasket, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper and smoothing out its wrinkles. He reread the message:



The Dwarf cursed under his breath and once more disposed of the paper. Unfortunately, the words had not changed over the course of the last few minutes. The message was still true.

"Well then," he said angrily, raising his glass to his bottom lip. "We'll just win it for the damn money."

---

Lhachlith was a horrible, horrible place. The Lómëdor Travel Agency had recently rated it as the second least desirable vacationing spot, just above Valolvann itself. Wurzag - the judge of this tournament match - however, had apparently not heard of this. And so, Sraxen and Merenwen made their way up the side of the volcano, where supposedly they would find their final opponents in this duel of conquerors.

Sraxen had been expecting, perhaps naively, that this final match would result in a showdown against two of Ëa's most feared combatants: Xoco the dark wraith and Vaudeux Jupiter, guardians of shadow and fire respectively. Sraxen was aware that Merenwen had an understanding with Jupiter, and thus had not told her of his involvement in the tournament, but Xoco... there was an enemy that they could both agree upon. In fact, Xoco had been the main reason that both members of Ossë had joined this tournament in the first place, to get a shot at the shadow guardian and deal out the judgment he long had coming.

Unfortunately, fate had a funny way of working out. Sartana-kun and Ayre Reitara had managed to defeat the pair in the second round, thereby determining that the House of Ossë would never get the chance they had been waiting for. And now, it seemed, both Sartana and Ayre had dropped out of the tournament, being replaced by a mysterious pair whose identities were still veiled to the Dwarf.

He shifted his gaze upward as he observed the black clouds pouring out of the volcano. Here, their fate would be decided.

He just wanted to get it over with.

"Just one more match, Mere. One more. And we can go home. This will all be over."

He trudged across the obsidian ground, the uphill slope of the side of the volcano finally taking its toll on his sore feet. The air was heavy and his eyes stung from the intensity of the heat and smoke. He wished he possessed Merenwen's control over water, wished that he was able to bring moisture to his dry eyes, and to hydrate himself in the midst of all this heat. But he didn't. He just had to suck it up.

He reached the summit. Finally, he caught a glance at his competition. Charlotte, the chaotic valkyrie, stood before the Elf and Dwarf, along with her mercenary friend. "Egads!" Sraxen exclaimed. He somehow expected to see a friendlier face than the adopted daughter of Kemensereg. His head was spinning. Not only because of the altitude and lack of breathable air, but because he wasn't sure what to expect in this fight. He and Mere had not counted on facing Charlotte in this match, and weren't ready for any tricks the mercenary might throw at them. In fact, he wasn't even sure he knew what her tricks were. They were going into this fight blind.

As Wurzag explained the rules of the match, Sraxen devoted half of his attention to the orc, and half to mentally flipping through his catalogue of spells. He knew there had to be something he could use right away to get the upper hand against his opponents. Nothing came to mind except the obvious, his trusted Draconic Might. He tried to rarely use the spell, only calling upon its power when the need was most dire. He remembered using it in the final battle of the war on Isiltelpë as he aided Tulkas' army in turning the gear that opened the gate of the obsidian tower. That action had cost him nearly all of his energy.

He was about to start the process of casting it, when a thought came to him. Perhaps Merenwen needs this more than I do? His partner wasn't weak, certainly - no guardian could be considered weak. But he felt that perhaps this strength would give Mere the edge she needed in the coming battle, which was sure to be their most trying yet.

He had made his decision. Softly he began mouthing the words that formed the spell. Soon, it was cast, and Sraxen felt a bit of his magical reserves leaving him. The fight hadn't even started, and already his energy was being drained. But hopefully, it had been worth it. He nodded at Merenwen with a look of confidence; with a bit of luck, they could pull this off.

"Fight!"

He made his way down to the arena.

The fiber of the rope was rough and cut into his hands. The Dwarf openly grimaced as the pain set in, but he did not slow his descent. Up here, above the arena, he felt wholly vulnerable.

And for good reason. Before he knew it, a buzz came speeding towards him, and before he could even say "What the-" his rope was being shredded just above his grip. "Oh darn, that's not good," he said, certain it would become the understatement of the year. Even as he said it, he plummeted towards the black disc and, even worse, the fiery material that was brooding underneath it.

"Not good, not good." Yet still he held onto the flayed end of his rope, knowing it to be his only salvation. Thankfully, the rope was still attached to the disc itself, and Sraxen was counting on it staying anchored there. It had to. Or he'd be taking a bath in magma. And from what he'd heard, that wasn't exactly desirable.

As he continued falling toward the depths of the volcano, he gave himself a pat on the back for giving Mere the draconic might instead of casting it on himself. Dwarves weren't known for their lithe physiques to begin with, and if he had fallen while bearing the strength of a dragon, he was sure he would have pulled the entire arena down with him. Instead, the rope reached the end of its slack as Sraxen fell past the edge of the disc. The line quickly tightened, then flung Sraxen up into the air a few feet before finally settling back down. Immediately he could feel the disc start to tilt, dropping him even deeper into the pit of the ominous volcano. The healer held on for dear life at the end of the cord, feeling the heat of the magma warming his feet.

Dangling at the end of the line, he was helpless.

His last chance rested in Merenwen. He could only hope that the bright Elven woman had managed to get down to the disc safely, and would be able to come to his aid and help pull him up. Her draconic might would help in that effort, but even so she would be completely vulnerable to an attack if she turned her back to the battle and helped him up to the surface. The answer to the predicament quickly came to him. He remembered the teachings of Lothlómendil, how she had taught him the secret of creating physical barriers when an attack from the enemy was to be avoided. He closed his eyes and concentrated on forming the barrier at the edge of the disc, leaving just enough room for Merenwen to slip behind it and be safe from any physical attacks. For a few moments, she would only be vulnerable from above and from the other side that the barrier did not cover, the side that Sraxen was currently hanging from.

His fate rested in the hands of an Elf. "It's a good thing she's smart," he breathed, as he sent a quick prayer to Lothlómendil. Things were already off to a rocky start.

Upon hearing the news that Wraith and his partner had lost in the most recent round of the tournament, Merenwen found herself very frustrated. She didn’t even wait to be told who his partner was, nor who she would be fighting, she just stormed off in a rage at all the plans she and Sraxen had made coming to a sudden halt. They had come so far, had worked so hard, and all for nothing. Sure, they could still win a great deal of gold, and she could use that to her advantage in the future, but she had wanted to fight Xoco, it was for that reason that she had joined the tournament in the first place.

Later, she had heard that they would be fighting her own guild leader and a friend of her partner. They had already been forced to go against their friends once; she did not wish to do so again. For that reason, though she did wonder the circumstances, she had been glad to hear that the two had pulled out of the tournament. Still, she awaited the time when she would learn who they would be competing against and hoped that they would not be stuck against more friends.



The day of the final round had arrived, and Merenwen felt ready to hear her judge’s head from his body. Why, why, would he force them to fight at the Volcano? The air was harsh, barely breathable, and she could feel the sting of the heat even from the bottom. Not only that, but this was an active volcano, it could erupt on them at any time. It was ridiculous for them to be expected to fight in such a location, and she hoped that if the volcano did erupt their idiot of a judge would be engulfed in the lava as well.

Merenwen trudged up the mountain with Sraxen by her side, her lungs feeling as if they were pulling in deadly fumes, which was fitting considering that was nothing more then the truth. Her eyes scanned to the sky, her one salvation, and she wished she could just lose herself in the moisture of the clouds, then again, she could bring that moisture to herself. Still, she would wait until she knew the full circumstances before calling on the rain, she did not want to risk making things more difficult then they already were.

Even with the cloud cover, her skin felt scorched from the heat of the volcano. The further they climbed, the more the heat seemed to sap her strength and the more she wished to return to the ocean’s cooling waters. She heard Sraxen speak beside her, reminding her that all they had to do was get through this last fight, and she nodded her head to him, giving him a small smile to communicate that she was ready. Then her eyes moved up the mountains, but this time stayed below the level of the clouds. She could see the acrid smoke rising off of the volcano, its harsh toxins killing the air, and knew that the more they climbed the harder it would be to breath. She needed to save her energy for the fight, but first she had to get to the top and that alone was draining.

Why was it that this tournament had seemed so worried about adding additional obstacles to their plans? Wasn’t the fight enough? Wasn’t it enough that they risked their lives to go up against competitors who may or may not have gotten a thrill out of causing them harm? It seemed that to these judges that was not enough. They wanted to make things as difficult as possible, even if that meant neither side had full energy for the fight at hand. She was more than ready for it to be over, more then ready to go back to her life. She would certainly keep in touch with Sraxen, but she was ready for a break from the ridiculousness of these fights, and knowing that all she had to do was finish this one gave her the mental push she needed to keep trudging up the side of the volcano.

They finally reached the top and her legs were nearly shaking from the exhaustion of the climb. She attempted to catch her breath but the smoke in the air got caught in her lungs and she began to cough and wheeze slightly. No deep breaths in this fight, she thought to herself, best to take shallow breaths and pray to survive.

She glanced at her competitors, but there was no recognition on her part. It seemed that Sraxen recognized them, but she did not have the chance to ask him for any details as the judge had begun to speak. She listened to his directions half-heartedly as her eyes looked down into the volcano, down onto the platform they would be expected to fight on. It did not look very stable and she worried that too much weight at any one point would tip the thing and throw them all off. Even as she looked, her eyes began to burn and water from the rising smoke and heat, so she turned them back up and looked at her partner. The climb down would be fairly difficult in itself, and after that they would still have to fight standing upon the platform, it was not going to be easy.

Merenwen could see that Sraxen was busy thinking something through, and did not interrupt his thoughts as she knew he had a great deal of brilliance and wondered what kind of plan he would come up with. She reached down to her side and pulled out her gloves of climbing, slipping them over her hands and waiting for Wurzag to finish speaking. Suddenly she felt a sense of power run through her body. It started in her toes and ran up through her legs, then her body and her arms. She felt like if she pushed on the earth it would push down, but yet she did not feel particularly heavy, more like no weight could affect her. It was an odd sensation, and she looked to Sraxen, wondering what had been done. He merely nodded at her and when Wurzag called for the fight to begin he was off, climbing down his rope. She took hold of her rope, slightly worried still about holding her weight even with the gloves, but when she hung her body over the side it was like she had no weight to hold. Her body seemed as light as a feather, and she was able to move down with a great deal of ease. Between the gloves to help her grip, and whatever Sraxen had done, she was finding an ease in this first task. She just hoped that whatever he had done for her would not later adversely affect him.

As she was climbing down, she stopped for a short moment at one point to catch her breath. It was not the climb that had stolen it this time, but instead the air, its harshness biting at her lungs. As she went to continue down she heard a buzzing just above her head. Looking up she saw a shuriken cut through her rope, leaving just a thread holding it together. The thread snapped and her weight began to plummet towards the molten lava below. She only had a moment to think, and to pray for Sraxen’s safety, as she was forced to teleport herself onto the platform. She landed hard and felt the platform tip below her, her weight causing it to tilt. Catching her balance, she searched for a sign of her partner, not even worried about herself, not even thinking of her opponents in the moment.

Then she felt the platform shift again and saw that the rope from which Sraxen had been climbing was hanging down taught from the point at which it connected to the platform. He was alive, in that moment she knew he was alive, but his place was still very precarious and she needed to go to his aid. She knew her weight combined with his would cause even more of a shift unless their opponents leveled the weight, and she knew that she could slip at any time, so she grabbed at the rope beside her, pulling on it so that were she to slip as well she would not fall straight down but would hang from the other corner. Moving carefully, but with as much speed as she could manage on the shifting ground, she headed towards Sraxen’s rope, praying she would get there quick enough. As she reached the point, she felt a barrier, but moving about it she felt a small gap, just wide enough for her to fit through.

As she slipped through the gap, the rope she held would no longer reach and she was forced to let it go. She could feel the platform tipping and had to brace her feet in order to not slip off. Reaching down, she gripped the rope from which Sraxen held. She did not dare to look over on fear of falling herself, but she called out and said, “Hold on tight, I’ll pull you up.”

Again, whatever he had done to her came in handy as she braced herself and pulled on the rope, hoping that he would be able to hold on. She moved the rope as quickly as she could without jerking it so hard that he would slip from the bottom Hand over hand she pulled the rope, her gloves helping her to grip it without wounds and the strength of Sraxen’s spell giving her arms the strength she needed. Finally, she caught sight of his arms, and holding tight she slowly lowered herself down, nearly laying on the platform. She moved towards the edge with her hands moving just enough to hold him in place, and when she reached the edge she held the rope tight with her left hand. Her right hand reached out, grasping onto his left arm, making sure she had a tight grip. Then she said, “If you can, grab my left arm and I will release the rope, then you can use me to pull onto the platform.”

She prepared for him to grab her arm, ready to pull back when he did and help to pull him fully onto the platform.