The trees made a wall, an oasis. They blocked out the rest of the world. A large, but shallow lake stood in the center, providing a cool and refreshing drink to all those that happened to find their way into the ring of trees. The tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze that managed to make it through the natural barrier, hiding all the birds and wildlife that lived below its top. The field was set, contestants ready, judge prepared, the winner would move on. The one that was defeated would be eliminated.

The stillness, the serenity, the peacefulness, was all disturbed as the wildlife sprung to life. Birds of all types, pheasants, falcons, and more, all flew away to a safer place. They could all sense the approaching presence. The watter rippled as a dark form stepped into it. He looked down at his distorted, rippling reflection and smiled. The time had come for his tournament to commence.

The Drow Weapon's Master reached back into the long grass. He pulled out a large bulging sack and placed it by the water's edge. Quickly pulling it open he knelt down beside the sack. Reaching in, Nafalen began systematically pulling out various weapons, pieces of armor, rings, and more. He made two piles.

The first pile held a The trees made a wall, an oasis. They blocked out the rest of the world. A large, but shallow lake stood in the center, providing a cool and refreshing drink to all those that happened to find their way into the ring of trees. The tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze that managed to make it through the natural barrier, hiding all the birds and wildlife that lived below its top. The field was set, contestants ready, judge prepared, the winner would move on. The one that was defeated would be eliminated.

The stillness, the serenity, the peacefulness, was all disturbed as the wildlife sprung to life. Birds of all types, pheasants, falcons, and more, all flew away to a safer place. They could all sense the approaching presence. The watter rippled as a dark form stepped into it. He looked down at his distorted, rippling reflection and smiled. The time had come for his tournament to commence.

The Drow Weapon's Master reached back into the long grass. He pulled out a large bulging sack and placed it by the water's edge. Quickly pulling it open he knelt down beside the sack. Reaching in, Nafalen began systematically pulling out various weapons, pieces of armor, rings, and more. He made two piles.

The first pile held a The trees made a wall, an oasis. They blocked out the rest of the world. A large, but shallow lake stood in the center, providing a cool and refreshing drink to all those that happened to find their way into the ring of trees. The tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze that managed to make it through the natural barrier, hiding all the birds and wildlife that lived below its top. The field was set, contestants ready, judge prepared, the winner would move on. The one that was defeated would be eliminated.

The stillness, the serenity, the peacefulness, was all disturbed as the wildlife sprung to life. Birds of all types, pheasants, falcons, and more, all flew away to a safer place. They could all sense the approaching presence. The watter rippled as a dark form stepped into it. He looked down at his distorted, rippling reflection and smiled. The time had come for his tournament to commence.

The Drow Weapon's Master reached back into the long grass. He pulled out a large bulging sack and placed it by the water's edge. Quickly pulling it open he knelt down beside the sack. Reaching in, Nafalen began systematically pulling out various weapons, pieces of armor, rings, and more. He made three piles.

The first pile held a Dark Blade, Blade of Desctruction, a Bloodstone Amulet, and a Ring of Jumping.

The second pile held a Blade of War, Shuriken Sentinel, Ankh, Potions of Fire, Resistance, Elixir, and a Cure Poison.

The third held a Scimitar.

Gathering up his sack, the Drow left the arena.

A gale swept through Salquedor, disturbing the patrons of a singular inn on the edge of the vast plain. This inn had become quiet for the full duration, before roaring back to life with the sound of a violin. The claps and cries of a busy tavern followed in short order. The wind, however, remained absent from the festivities.

Vivianne played furiously, attempting to keep pace with a girl dancing and a man belting out a country song with a speed she didn't think possible. Luckily for her, the violin part was one she recognized. Fingers depressed strings as she drew the bow across the instrument. It was enjoyable, it tore her straight back to the days when she was struggling on the street with Riya. Then again, those memories that she remembered so flawlessly weren't nearly as pleasant as this particular moment of performing was.

Even as she played, her mind wandered back to what she didn't have. Vivi had joined a tourney, which was absolutely fantastic. Vivi then learned that she was fighting in the Salquedor grasslands, which was spectacular. Now, the thing that annoyed her was that the next morning she woke up without any of her possessions, other than her trusty violin. Admittedly, however, she was clutching her violin in her arms because it bore many a pleasant memory. There were also those bad memories, but she happily ignored their resurgence.

The song came to a gentle halt, and Vivianne took her bow as enough coins to pay for her night in the inn hurtled into her violin case. Cheers and claps filled the room as the seemingly delicate young naiad took her leave for the night. She'd have to wake up early to make the walk to where she supposed her fight was taking place. Her mind drifted away as copper hands depressed the latch on her door, and she pushed in with her shoulder. The naiad collapsed on her bed, fully clothed, and promptly fell asleep.

It was with a shock that she awoke the next morning. She sat up from her sprawl, and stared blankly out her window. Were these fights to the death? That was one question she had neglected to ask. Vivianne yawned, closed her windows, and strode out of her room. She put the lock into place, and darted down the stairs as swiftly as possible. The naiad bolted out of the inn and straight into the grasslands. As much as she wanted to rush, she couldn't. Instead, she took a leisurely pace, and followed the directions ingrained into her memory.

It took what seemed to be little time at all, and as she stared at where her weapons lay, she noted two other piles. Now this she wasn't prepared for. One pile was nearly bland, and she signed the owner off as a threat, yet the other pile was one that she might expect of a legendary warlord. Two blades hummed with magic, far more powerful than her pitiful little Lady Luck. This arena was an oasis in a sea of grass, trees barring an easy escape. A fight to the death? No doubt. Vivi had no compunctions to kill her opponents, but they might want her pretty little head.

Ebony hair became a banner taken by the wind as she broke out into a full out sprint, and snatched her weapon off the ground. With a hand on the sheathe and a hand on the hilt, she separated the two with a forceful push. The scabbard hurtled away. and she brought the blade up in one hand. With a spare hand she slid her ankh around her neck, and left her potions in the grass.

"All hail the reaper." Vivianne declared, her raspy voice filled with regret.

Amani walked through Salquedor, still wondering the same thing she had wondered ever since she had given up her hard-earned gold to enter this tournament. What in Curin's name had possessed her to enter it in the first place?!? She had never been one to overestimate her own abilities, so surely she had the common sense to not to do something so foolish. Had it simply been the prospect of money that had made her sign herself up for something that would probably end in her own death? No, it had not been that. Money was valuable, but not at the cost of her own life. So what had possessed the usually practical dancer to enter this deathtrap of a tournament?

She walked through the grasslands, trying to remember what she had been thinking the moment she registered her name in this contest of strength and skill. Had it been to test her own abilities? To see whether she had done well in her studies of the sword? To put herself in a situation where she would get a clear idea of her own limits, and of how much training she still had to do? That was probably what had taken over her that day.

With a slight pang of guilt, her thoughts turned to the friend she had left behind. She had not told Nadia, her fairy companion, anything about this tournament. The fairy was a sound sleeper, so Amani had crept out of their room at the inn before dawn, heading straight towards the point assigned to her. Only a note was left for Nadia to find when she awoke, and a tiny bit of breakfast for the fairy. No doubt Nadia would be frantic, but if Amani had told her about the tournament, there was no doubt in the young dancer's mind that the fairy would have attempted to stop her from going, and she would not have summoned up the resolve to go in that case.

She was dressed in the garb of the desert, something she usually did not wear while traveling elsewhere on Arda. Today, she did, perhaps to remind her of where she came from, and to remind herself and her opponent of her heritage. She was one of those children that had survived Anfauglir, one of those children that had roamed the streets of Angband, surviving in the hardship that the desert fortress practically embodied. The flower that bloomed in adversity, the rose that sprung from the desert sands--that was the young mute dancer by the name of Amani Thana. Her home had not only stolen her voice, but also her heart, and there it would remain.

It was likely that she would lose today, but she did not intend to lose without a fight. She knew that she was at a severe disadvantage, what with her only weapon being a scimitar, with no armor and no capacity for magic. To her, however, her humble scimitar was the only weapon that she needed. She would fight, win or lose. Her own pride would not permit anything less. Her blue eyes hardened in resolution as she stepped through the trees and into the clearing.

There was another there, a woman with long dark hair, wielding an impressive sword as her weapon. She thought it looked like a Blade of War, but until the battle began, there would be no way to tell. In contrast, however, her own scimitar seemed rather bland. Amani walked over to the lone weapon, picking it up and effortlessly pulling it from its sheath. The hilt of the weapon rested comfortably in her hands, a sense of familiarity coursing through her as she held it. This was her first weapon, and even if she bought others in the future, it would always hold a special meaning to her.

Amani Thana faced her opponent, a look of determination in her eyes. She would put up a fight, win or lose. This day would show her whether she was strong enough to be considered a warrior.

(Since Death's five days are up, I'm posting.)

Vivianne's entire body tensed, ready for that moment of steel and blood hurtling through the air. She honestly disliked it, and as the naiad prepped the five foot long katana, she studied her opponent. Her orbs traced over the girl's entire form, her stance, her posture, her weapon, and even the look on her face. The results were conflicting. She wore garb of the desert, and a weapon of the same place. And as confident as she looked, she didn't have the feel of a time honored warrior. It was a knowledge that transcended logic, a feel for the world only understood by fellows in the blade. As a lock of hair crossed her visage, one of the few strands to not be locked up in her lengthy ebony pony tail, she made a decision.

"Love, I'm not going to kill you, yet you may still walk away from this with broken bones." Vivianne stated. She flipped her blade, nimble fingers twisting the blade of war from a weapon of ceaseless destruction to the blunt side of the katana. It was awkward to wield this way, and the now-reversed slight curve would operate against her. Yet, it was better than having the blood of such a pretty young girl staining it. She sighed, her eyes trailing across the simple, untarnished grass beneath them. It was beautiful in its own right, the simplicity of nature was one of the few things that could be given unconditional love from a mortal, even though Nature would never return such a favor.

With the swiftness of a bolt of lightning, she released all of that pent up energy, bolting across the long grass. Blades of grass found themselves trampled, a furious storm of a whole new type hurtling over head. The blade shifted as she drew near, coming up in preparation for a swing. Vivi counted the steps, her mind flew through the estimations of when to start her strike. All of her fingers gripped the blade, and the swing began. She swept high, hurtling above the delicate area between hip and ribcage, and hurtling straight into her opponent's arm. She had no urge to hurt her, and a strike to the kidneys could very well end this battle.

With that, she danced lightly out of the way, careful to stay out of the brutal reach of that scimitar. Dark eyes trailed across to her opponent again as she pivoted, spacing her legs apart and prepared for the impending clash of steel. Vivianne gritted her teeth, knowing that her choice to not risk killing her opponent was likely foolish. In the split seconds she had, her mind wandered back to all the killing she had done in her lifetime, all the pain, the misery, the pure fear in her opponent's eyes. It had been ecstasy for her, the purest of thrills, the most disgusting of vices. Gazing upon the body of such a precious creature, she questioned why she ever had done such a thing.

(OOC: Sooo sorry that I took so long. I had a few issues iRL)

In the end, she was always the weaker one. Amani knew it, and so did her opponent apparently. The mute frowned, watching as her opponent flipped her blade. She did not wish to draw her blood. An ordinary girl would have been grateful for that, but Amani had come here seeking to test her abilities. In the end, it appeared that even her opponent knew that she did not have the experience to win this fight. She frowned, tightening her hold on the hilt of her scimitar. The look in her blue eyes became a little bit more intense as she looked over her opponent. She herself did not think she had the experience to win this fight, but that didn't mean she intended to lay down and die. Her body tensed as she waited for that moment, that precise moment when their blades clashed. Then, her world would change, shifting from the peace and tranquility of the grasslands to the heat of war.

There...

Her opponent charged forward, trampling the delicate blades of grass underfoot as she rushed towards Amani, her sword swinging through the air as it aimed for the area between her hips and ribcage. Amani turned quickly, knowing that a direct hit there would likely end this fight. Her clothes swirled around her as she moved, her whole body carrying over the grace that she held during her performances. In the end, this battle was yet another dance, a deadly dance between two blades.

She raised up her scimitar to parry the blow, the impact jarring her arm as she fought to keep the deadly blade at bay. The girl was strong. Her whole arm was shaking from the force of the blow. Had that hit her body, this battle would be over sooner than Amani would like. As soon as the girl struck, she jumped back, dancing out of the range of Amani's scimitar. The dance of blades had truly begun.

She moved to an unheard tune, her body responding to the rhythm that only she could feel as she moved forward, her movements both graceful and swift at the same time. Putting all her weight behind her swing, Amani mimicked her opponents movements, her scimitar sailing through the air as she attempted to strike at the same place the girl had attempted to strike her.