[4e] Fallen - Prologue: The Crucible (Full)

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It is dark in the tunnel. You are standing right up against the portcullis. The iron is cold and has a metallic tang that smells like blood. Beyond the portcullis, the gate that opens onto the sands of the Arena.

The others are behind you, sweating, cursing, crying, a polyglot melange of raw, brimming emotion.

The portcullis rises with a shrieking shudder as the gate creaks open. The tunnel is flooded with blinding light...


((Part I of the Crucible - describe your first fight in the Arena!

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-- Deadline for Voting - 11:59 PM Sunday the 27th
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))

Caged Fury's first fight in the areana, some time ago

Under the roar of the crowd, Caged Fury entered the arena. He had the dubitious luck to be paired against the arena favourite: ‘Hammer’, a hulking Goliath with the biggest hammer he had ever seen. He had himself not be announced with some ‘exciting’ stage name, thought to be only some fresh blood that will be splattered to jam in mere seconds. Both stand there, waiting to be given the signal to start fighting. The earthy and sweaty smell of his opponent caused Caged’s nose to wrinkle. All he knew was that he had to kill and survive in a way that would please the crowd. He’d never learned how to be an open fighter, nor had he ever cared to. He’d never addressed a crowd of more than a handful of people. Now he was about to kill or be killed for an audience’s amusement.

"Fight!"

Fury kept his eyes at the giant and tried to come up with some kind of strategy that would keep him from harm and help him win. I have to act first One blow from this hammer and I will be finished.. He crouched low rolled toward his opponent and planted his right foot in his crotch. The Goliath toppled slightly over but maintained his grip on the weapon. Surprised that that had actually worked, He followed up with a left-handed punch with his cestus that laid the larger fighter out with a huge dent in his helmet’s faceplate.
The sun warmed his face as the crowd's applause warmed his heart, and he knew that he could survive this as long as he kept fighting and making the crowd happy.
He kept tumbling, nearly dancing around his much stronger opponent, placing a fist, knee or elbow here and there.
Suddenly Hammer straightened up, grinned and whispered in a low voice at Fury: "Nice show, boy, I will let you live, this time." Then, with a bone chilling howl he jumped forward, moving faster that Fury had thought it would be possible for such a heavy man. He dodged the first few blows, was forced to parry one with his arms and loosed balance. He barely felt the hit… regaining suddenly his consciousness, he heard the cheering of the crowd. They deemed him worthy to live…

Experience in the arena got to be earned in the hard way…

Rodeh looked down at his sword and shield held in his arms, forcibly strapped and magically binded in placed. The smell of blood was old on the bars in front of the portcullis, but fresh on his hands and on the shield now held firmly in place. Sweat poured down his forehead as he willed the leather armor into place, and even that smelled of fresh blood. It was a blisteringly hot day in the Arena, perfect for making two warriors fight to the death. Rodeh would normally have enjoyed a small scuffle before lunch. This time, however, he hated it, although a cruel smile pursed his lips.

They may make me fight in 'dis blasted Arena eventually, but not before I bloody a few noises and take a few fingers off. The battle to get the armor on him had not lasted long, but it was all the time Rodeh needed. Then, that blasted warlock came to him. How he hated 'ol what-his-stupid-face. The eladrin warlock had grinned slyly at him.

"Your Gods are dead now, and should you fail in the arena, I will ensure your family will be too." The eladrin said in perfect Dwarven. He laughed as Rodeh looked at him dumbstruck, but the stout Minehelm growled and smoothed out his long, black beard. Rodeh spat on the ground,

"May your mother screw the rotten carcases of beheaded drow!" The dwarf responded back, ready for a fight, red rage boiling inside of him like the lava in the furnaces of his homeland. The warlock merely laughed and turned away, waving his hand. Then, he was face to face with the portcullis. Rodeh swore then he would kill the largely frail and girly-looking eladrin before his time in the Arena was done. And then probably defacate on his dead body. A few times.

The portcullis swung open, and Rodeh half-closed his eyes as the blinding light shot through the doorway. Standing there dumbfounded for a few moments, the dwarf was forcibly pushed into the arena. Stumbling forward, he landed square on his face as is only standard for dwarven finesse and grace. Grunting as he stood, Rodeh was greeted by loud jeers and laughters from the arena audience. Glancing upward, the dwarf saw his companion, whom he vaguely heard being introduced as "The Zipper." It might have also been "Ripper," but Rodeh was still fuming from the warlock's promise and couldn't hear over the roar of the crowd. In unison, the crowd shouted "Fight!" and the battle was on.

Not wasting a second, the human standing in front of him charged with blinding speed straight toward the dwarf, scimitar blazing in the ever-sweltering sun. But Rodeh was ready this time, and the red blood flowing through his veins was still hot with anger. Setting his feet strongly into the ground, Rodeh assumed a wide stance and focused his energy into his arms. Muscles rippling, "The Zipper" immediately knew what it felt like to slam face first into a wall of bricks.

And these bricks were very sturdy, and carried a big sword.

The human impacted Rodeh's shield as he brought the scimitar down, and the sheer force of his own impact allowed Rodeh to channel the energy and push it forward. With a primal yell and a large grunt, Rodeh pushed forward hard as the impact came, sending the Zipper flying back in the direction he came nearly 20 feet. The human landed hard on his back and rolled. While the human was getting up slowly, Rodeh grunted again.

"It's going to take more than that to move me, Zipper," Rodeh said and banged his shield with his sword, "Pull your pants up, little man, and TRY TO MOVE ME!" The human came at him again, but this time with a little surprise. As he charged (a little slower this time, Rodeh notices), two daggers come from his side and directly at Rodeh. Raising his shield to deflect the two knives, the Zipper launched himself up and attempts to get over the dwarf.

"Mistake number two," Rodeh says as he swings his sword up, broad end first. The sword explodes with force outward and impacts the human square in the chest, rolling him over and landing him hard on his stomach next to Rodeh, "son of a hairless orc."

Without missing a beat, however, another knife comes lunging at the dwarf a split-second before the human hits the dirt and buries itself squarely in his left arm. Feeling his grip on his sword loosen, Rodeh quickly drops the weapon and it lodges itself point first into the sand. With a quick yelp and a growl, Rodeh ignores the pain and forces adrenaline through his body as he moves forward and drops his entire weight on the human. The Ripper yells in pain and spews blood as the dwarf feels ribs snap underneath his immense strength. The crowd roars as it sees red for the first time this battle, both from the dwarf and the human.

"In a different world, human," Rodeh whispers as he brings his shield up. Before slamming it down on the head of the human to end the fight, he swears that he could see the man smiling.

*****

"Why do I suddenly feel cold." Rodeh thinks to himself, standing up victorious, waves of applause and cheering from the audience filling his ears and drowning out most of his other thoughts. He walks over to the sword and examines it. He breath leaves him and the arena feels very quiet as he sees the runes dancing over the longsword, even admist all the screaming. Its appearance is very similar to his family heirloom, the ancient sword Amma.

"Then that shall be your name, weapon." The Warden says, a grim smile coming over his lips. Though he escaped with his life that day, he somehow felt as though the real victor was lying in a pool of his own blood.

The darkness in the slave pens was opressive. I could see the dirty flicker of torches from the guard station, casting just enough light for me to make out my surroundings. It didn't help. The sound of heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of a guard to escort some of us to the arena. A scaled hand reached down and dragged me to my feet.

"You'll do, Pinky."

I was thrown in a room with my gear and two other gladiators, a dragonborn and a human. The door was closed and locked behind us, and the only other exit was a long corridor, with the faint glimmer of daylight. I could hear the faint sounds of the arena echoing down the hall. My fellow gladiators glared at me as I stood there, and I hurriedly donned my armor, grabbed my sword, and followed them down the hall. We stood at the portcullis, watching as a dwarf delivered a killing blow to his opponent. The dwarf retreated through another portcullis, and slaves quickly dragged the body of his late foe away. The steel bars in front of us began to raise, and my companions pushed me out onto the sands as we watched to see who we would be facing.

I stood on the sands flanked by the other gladiators, and watched as a large gate opposite us slowly opened. The roar that issued forth was my first clue that this would not be quite as I expected. Three gladiators against three gladiators would have been different from my days as a Gladia Prima, but still fundamentally the same. A match of warrior against warrior, for the show, for the glory. A large hulking creature was prodded into the light and the gates slammed shut behind us. This was no warrior, this was a beast of the wilds, angry, hungry and vicious. It swung its shaggy head around sniffing at the air, and then focused on us. My companions were already spreading out, and the human identified our foe for us.

"It's a cave bear. The gods! It's huge."

I gripped my sword tightly, and watched as the bear reared up, roaring a challenge. Then it dropped to all fours and charged at me. This was no contest, this was my life. I barely ducked out of the way of the huge paw that swiped at my head, and I tried to duck away to one side, but the beast turned faster than I expected and swiped at me again, sending me sprawling. While I had it distracted one of the other gladiators screamed and launched an attack at it's back. The dragonborn's axe seemed to just glance off the creature's body, but the bear roared and turned away from me. I scrambled to my feat, and added my own swing to the assault, as the human joined is as well. The three of us tried to hack at the bear and keep out of reach of it's claws and teeth. No matter how many blows scored its hide, the thing wouldn't die, and we were rapidly tiring. The bear spun around quickly, swiping at all of us, roaring in protest. The human and I were knocked to the sands, but the dragonborn hit the wall and fell unconcious in front of the bear. It's jaws latched on to the scaled one and ripped off a limb, spraying blood onto the sands. Horrified, I turned away and glanced at my remaining ally, he had taken wounds of his own, and was struggling to his feet.

I hurried to him, and helped him to stand.

"Stand firm, man. If we are to survive, we must stand firm!"

He nodded and straightened up as the bear turned from his downed foe and refocused his attention on the two of us. We both charged at the beast, striking it again and again. It, too, was beginning to slow, it's blood slowly staining the sand beneath it, but it was still stronger than either of us. I dodged the wrong direction and took a nasty swipe across my chest, falling to the sands. Undeterred by the blows the human still rained down on it's back, the bear lunged at me, and I stared into the very literal jaws of death. I suddenly felt the fey magic in my blood flare up as it had not done since my youth, and the world flashed green around me. The bear suddenly halted, gave a pained snort and swung it's head around, as if looking for something. I took my chance and swung my sword as hard as I could at it's head as the human stabbed once more into it's side. Everything we had was in those strikes, and our foe finally succumbed to his wounds.

The other gladiator and I looked at the corpse of a once noble creature, the bloodied remains of our fallen ally and our own broken bodies. This was not what the arena was supposed to be. The crowds cheered their blood lust, but it rung hollow to my ears, as I made my way back to the slave pens, to await the next day.

Q'ynn Daelrith's First Fight in the Arena

The first thing Q'ynn Daelrith notices, once the portcullis lifts, is a cold, strong breeze against his face. A persistent wind whips around the bowl of the arena, causing Q'ynn's tattered tabard, the one featuring the Daelrith family crest, to flap incessantly in response. Daelrith steps onto the dirt arena floor to see tonight's opponent, the Half-Orc Barbarian known as Shaylor Umblereck.

Daelrith, not sure how he'll fare against this beast, knows only quick thinking and perhaps some luck will enable him to win tonight's match. Shaylor, full of vitriolic intensity, charges forward, brandishing a greataxe caked with the blood of forty past opponents, most of whom didn't survive.

Q'ynn Daelrith realizes he needs to slow this big, burly monster. Damaging or disorienting the Barbarian would be a side benefit to consider. Not wanting to be pinned against the arena walls, Q'ynn slides slightly away from Shaylor's trajectory and unleashes Kord's malediction against the opponent: "Kord grant me bane against this unworthy heathen!" Golden sheaves of light spray the area around the incoming Barbarian, annoying him if nothing more. Q'ynn thrusts his magic staff at the Half-Orc. As he does this, the Barbarian begins to see visions of his own demise.

Shaylor, under the assault of Kord's might, shakes it off and charges forward, easily tracking down Q'ynn Daelrith. The Barbarian flies into a rage, swinging wildly his greataxe. Kord's malediction, however, throws the Barbarian's attack wide. The crowd begins to come alive with the Barbarian's attack, only to see it miss by quite a bit. Q'ynn Daelrith, emboldened by the knowledge that Kord's malediction interfered with Shaylor's strike, calls again upon his deity's power: "Brace me, my Lord, and bring Ruin to this battered fool!" With a strike from Kord himself, the Barbarian is dazed, allowing Q'ynn to escape from Shaylor's reach.

Q'ynn, himself fatigued from the use of his divine abilities, isn't able to get that far away. Fortunately, Shaylor was slowed enough that the Barbarian was unable to close into melee range. "This combat is close to an end, graceless barbarian scum," Q'ynn says to his opponent. "Kord, lord of strength and of war, I call upon your might to finish the Half-Orc I see before me!" A shaft of light, seemingly from the heavens itself, shines down on Shaylor, enveloping him in radiance. The Barbarian cries out, not in fear, but in the pain of Kord's might. Shaylor drops to one knee, trying to surge forward, swinging his greataxe, but unable to close in on Q'ynn.

Choryl Velt, arena master for the night, stamps his giant staff-pennant against a large, flat stone amidst the second tier of the arena stands. "It is done," Velt announces. "Q'ynn Daelrith is the victor!" A battle horn sounds.

Daelrith turns to face Velt and the crowd. He raises his magic staff in victory, awash in the feeling of defeating an opponent for the very first time. Shaylor Umblereck, unwilling to accept defeat, snarls. "I will not submit!" The Barbarian gets to his feet and, his fangs bared, charges forward, knocking Q'ynn to the dirt floor. Q'ynn barely had time to roll over to see Umblereck swinging his nasty greataxe down towards the Invoker's head. Q'ynn dodges, but not enough, as the axe digs into Daelrith's shoulder, drawing first blood.

Umblereck stands, facing Velt. "I am the victor," the Barbarian claims. "I have drawn first blood! Give to me the spoils."

"No, Shaylor!" Choryl Velt replies forcefully. "I have decreed Q'ynn Daelrith the victor. The horn has sounded!" An assistant approaches Velt and whispers in his ear.

Meanwhile, Q'ynn Daelrith rolls over and gets up, still bleeding rather profusely from the axe wound in his shoulder. The Invoker glares at Shaylor, the Half-Orc. Daelrith realizes, however, that the Half-Orc may be in the right, at least in his addled brain. Daelrith is still in mortal danger. The Half-Orc could turn, at any moment, and finish Daelrith before any of the guards could intervene. Q'ynn considers running into the tunnel, but also wants to stand his ground. Daelrith was declared the victor, after all. How would it look to run now?

"Shaylor Umblereck," Choryl Velt says. "Under a strict reading of the arena rules, your claim is correct."

Q'ynn Daelrith sighs. He knows where this is going. At least he thinks he does.

"However, the horn has sounded and I have made the victor declaration," the arena master adds. "This leaves us at an impasse. Unfortunately, that means I must declare a draw." A wave of cries and boos emanates from the crowd. "All bets... all bets will be returned. Please, form one line to the banker's window."

Q'ynn looks over at the Half-Orc, who barely understands what's going on. Regardless, the simple Barbarian realizes that he's been robbed, at least in his mind. Daelrith, seeing a slight change in Shaylor's body languages, runs into the tunnel. The portcullis is still down. "Open this thing," he demands. "Hurry!"

A slave smiles at the Invoker, slowly cranking a wheel to raise the portcullis. Bearing down on Q'ynn is the Half-Orc, bringing his greataxe along for the ride. Just as Q'ynn ducks under the gate, Shaylor brings the axe blade down on the space Daelrith had occupied, barely missing. As Umblereck prepares to attack again, a robed figure in the hall, waiting for his own turn in the arena, uses his wand to shoot a thin, blue ray at the Barbarian, freezing Shaylor Umblereck in his tracks.

"Thanks much, friend," Q'ynn says to the unknown Wizard.

"You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?" the Wizard replies with a smile.

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delete -- double post

Kadaj sat below the sands of the arena with his daggers in his hands, the human assassin always waited in quiet before one of his matches began. Others would try and get their blood pumping with all manner of activities, the barbarians would smack themselves with their fists, chanting to their dead ancestors, or cut themselves, that part always mystified Kadaj. He always sought to find that inner calm that he had tapped whenever he began his "assignments" back home. Being overzealous got you in trouble, better to take your time, relax and approach the situation with a clear head.

The crowd was roaring up above, chanting for "KILL, KILL, KILL", which meant the previous match was nearing completion and his time was nigh. Kadaj began ritualistically checking his gear, the daggers were placed back into their holders on his belt, within easy reach. He pulled them in and out a few times to make sure. He checked the clasp of his black cloak, the cloak that had saved his life on more than one occasion. Kadaj called his enchanted leather armor to him to ensure nothing had been tampered with. "You can't be too careful with the bribes that flow through here" he thought as he adjusted the straps and sent it back to the extradimensional home.

The guard looked at him with a questioning glare and said "You're up, have fun" as he began laughing, pushing Kadaj up the ramp and nearly sending him to the ground. The assassin turned back over his shoulder, staring daggers at Helmut, the former gladiator who'd managed to somewhat win his freedom, although he was indentured to the Septimus Sarcus and required to serve here in the Arena of Andrius. The brute had taken to his role with relish, routinely metting out punishment on the gladiators as he saw fit and the man had taken a special interest in Kadaj, to the assassin's misfortune.

The doors were opened and Kadaj continued down that familiar hall, "How many times have I come down this hall? How many have I killed in this last year? More importantly how much would've I been paid for this back home?" the thoughts went through his head at lightning speed as he began falling into his calm state. His muscles twitched with anticipation as he stepping onto the sand of the arena, the floor comfortably giving way to Kadaj's foot. "Like a mother's embrace" he thought involuntarily as he absorbed the warmth of the sun. His black garb provided little benefit in the arena, the crowd's didn't enjoy someone hiding on them so there was little for Kadaj to use as cover. It didn't matter, he'd adapted, he changed the way he stalked his prey, no longer relying totally on sneaking in the dark to kill. If anything, Kadaj had become much more lethal during his time in "the Pit", as he called the Arena.

Kadaj looked around for a moment, his eyes now adjusted to the sudden brightness of the sun, and looked for his foe, expecting one of the regulars, perhaps Hammer, or Zipper, maybe even his longtime sparring partner, Atrius.
The master of the arena stood up, and in a magically enhanced voice, said "Welcome one and all, today we have a special treat for you, the master of the dagger, Kadaj, will be pitted against a creature that does not call our land home. This creature was provided by a special supporter of the Arena and brought here across the Planes for your enjoyment. May I present Bloodclaw!", with a grand flourish, he points to the other tunnel and a large creature comes striding out, flanked on both sides by the elite guards of the Arena. The creature was ape-like, but the size of a giant, blood-red fur body and dagger-like teeth protruded from its mouth. At the sight of Kadaj, the creature began salvering and its beady red eyes glowed brightly as it eyed the assassin hungrily.

It launched itself at him with a fury, not waiting for the match to begin properly. Kadaj barely had time to call his armour and draw his weapons to turn aside the ferocious first strike from the demon. It stank of brimstone this close and the acrid smell stung Kadaj's nostrils. Kadaj knew he couldn't let this thing hit him or else he'd be in big trouble. The assassin stabbed at the creatures eyes, using an old trick he knew and drew a minor wound above its eye, at least it appeared minor, but it continued to bleed a blackish ickor that ran into the demon's eyes.

Kadaj danced away as the creature flailed helplessly for him, throwing his blackened off-hand dagger at it, with a flourish. The blade landed on the creatures arm and stuck for a moment, the colour leaving it and the wound grew black as the stored energy from the blade went into his foe. The creature shook off the blinding effect of the initial strike and charged at Kadaj, who wasn't so fortunate this time. A claw tore a long slash in his arm, nearing jarring the off hand dagger out of his grasp. He held on with all his strength and returned the attack with one of his own. The twin daggers stabbed in and out quickly, the weapons becoming a blur of motion, as they found the flesh of the beast.

It reared back and howled a deep, resonating noise that shook Kadaj to the bone and tore at him with both claws, their razor-sharp nails catching the assassin in the chest and tearing open large gaping wounds in him. Focusing on the enchantment of his cloak, Kadaj disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind the demon and stabbing it twice in quick succession, the rolling away before it could react. The creatures blackened blood was dotting the sand of the arena's floor, more than the red dripping from Kadaj's wounds, but it didn't seem affected. It charged again, but this time he was ready for it, the beast was simple, it was strong, but easily countered. Kadaj parried away the attack and danced around the foe, plunging his dagger up to the hilt into the neck of the beast, twisting the blade for extra effect. He stepped away and then jammed his other dagger up into the demon's brain from under his jaw. The creature fell over and dissappated into black mist. Kadaj stumbled over to where his weapons now lied, the adrenaline of the fight leaving him and he fell to one knee. The perspiration on his brow fell to the sand and was absorbed, but the red pool forming around him was disturbing to Kadaj. He looked up and the crowd was chanting "LIVE, LIVE, LIVE, and the assassin smiled. He looked to the guest box and saw a familiar face, Erstad! I will get out of here and find you!" Kadaj thought to himself as the healers came out, staunching his wounds and helping him stand. He pushed them off and resolutely walked back on his own, heavily favouring his right leg. Before retreating from the heat of the sun to go lick his wounds he turned to the crowd and gave a deep bow.

Kadaj turned, and walked back down the hallway, head held high and wondered when the chance for escape would present itself. He had survived another day and that was all he could do, for now...

"the time is not yet right"

Following slammed the door behind him as he stormed out of the priests office returning to his cell. The rumors of the giants had been growing now for months, along with the growing impatience, while he was forced to fight in the arena bettering himself for his unknown task.

Looking out the window at the darknwss of the sky outside, following felt his thoughts drifting back, almost five years.

The roaring of the crowd seemed to swell with the anticipation of blood being spilt as Following, chained to his partner, entered the arena. The half-elf, a small time criminal who had been caught stealing from the temple stumbled nervously, a growing wet patch staining his pants, leaving a small trail of mud in the dust. Ignoring the whimpering of the convict, following studied thier opponents, a halfling and a halforc, the halforc while large and muscular moved slowly, whereas the halfling looked more dangrous, to those who were trained to watch thier opponents.

Watchting the halflings movements, Following took note of the shadows surrounding him, subtly changing thier movements and flow to guide his blade to a vital spot when the time came.

The noise from the crowd stilled as the pairs gladiators circled one another, looking for the opening. Follow kept an eye on the unlikely pair waiting for the moment to strike. There. The orcblooded one is becoming impatient.

"Is it true you once tried to jump a pig, but it ran away due toy ou being to ugly?" Following called out to the brute, smiling slightly at the panic in the halflings eyes as his companion grunted in rage and charged. Waiting till the last moment, following yanked on the chain connecting him to the halfelf pulling him into the charging halforc's path and dissapeared from site, riding the shadows to appear behind the halfling. As he appeared he let the flow of shadows guide his blade deep into the unfortunate creatures body, piercing the heart. Putting his mouth near the shocked face of the halfling his whispered into his ear "Shadows speed you to the court of the Raven Queen"

Feeling the shadows dissapate around the halfling the Revenant backed away looking at the halforc tearing messily into his fighting companion. He backed away calling out to the raging creature "Hey ugly this way". The halforc stopped, and finaly seemed to notice the corpse of the halfling he was attached to and pointed to at Following "Youze killed Agraad, Duruk will teach you pain you for that." Following smiled, channled the shadows and slashed at the Brute with them. Duruk squealed in pain as a cut opened across his chest. Then another, and another. In desperation he charged Following hoping to stop the phantom assault and gasped in surprise as the revenant dissapeared, assuming a ghostlike shape to avoid the strike, then reappeared behind him, his sword having changed into a executioners style axe, which came down on the halforc's neck ending the match.

Ignoring the roars of the crowd, Following walked back to the tunnel, hoping the next fight would be a better test of his skills.

A banging on the door of his cell broke his meditation "Following rise, time to prepare for your next fight". Following rose, moving towards the arena and his next kill, but his mind was elsewhere, focussed on the giants and his unknown task...