D&D 5E Arena of War - Chapter 1: In Character

Temenon arrives in a scene. Anyone who is in their rooms hears a ruckus in the training yard. The Thayan Rakshasa is wounded, his hair fringed and frost covered. Clearly he has come from a magical duel. He looks in a foul mood and yells for everyone to meet him at the arena gates.

While he impatiently waits he scans the area and sees Valya. "You did well in the trials. Take this as reward. I need survivors and not the weaklings who died so pitifully after your group. He pulls a double fingered ring from his hand and offers it to the wizard. Any survivors of their first rounds of combat shall be rewarded. Ask and if it is within my power, it will be given.

Cade yells out over his shoulder as he walks away... "Maybe some healing potions for those that need them!" Then the halfling and his wolf (or maybe the wolf and it's halfling?) lay down together on the cold stone floor and seem to go instantly to sleep.

An elf steps up before Temenon and speaks, "I will fight, if the little one is too tired to do so. I will face your challenge and not only survive, but thrive!" the proud looking elf boasts. His head is mostly shaved, except for a topknot. He wears no armor and his clothes are loose and flowing over his thin but wiry build. He haughtily looks Artyom up and down as if appraising the human monk. His eyebrows arch in a judgmental look of distaste before he turns away dismissively.

Artyom comes out of his meditation enough to register the elven monk's appraising look. Artyom grits his teeth and struggles to ignore the elf, the dull pain from the cuts on his face an arms fade into the background as he returns to his contemplations.

"Damn!" A discordant note rings out from near the tables where the other prisoners are gambling. A young man sits with a lute on one knee, he is studiously restringing the instrument. After he's done winding the string around a peg he gives it a few expert turns and gives the string a pluck. Satisfied, he runs his fingers over the fretboard and face of the lute drawing forth a lovely melody. A yellowing bruise under one eye mars his otherwise handsome looks.

"Vengeance," Drek says through gritted teeth. "That is surely within the power of the great Temenon, is it not? Allow me to gut the filthy sloth who consigned me to this wicked dungeon."

Temenon finds a seat at a table and appears lost in thought as the wounds slowly mend themselves before your eyes. An acrid steam fills the air above him as bits of organic matter slowly sizzle into gaseous form and dissipates around him. He mutters to himself "I just need more time now. No other way. How can I get more time."

As the training field starts to go back to a somewhat normal atmosphere with groups forming to train, several grabbing some food, and others heading to their rooms, the slow metal grating of the main arena doors can be heard. Glancing that way, expectantly, a large half-orc slowly walks out of the dark hallway. He does not wear armor per say but is covered head to toe in scars. He is also gore splattered. He wears black bracers that wind past his elbows and blood soaked black leather pants with spike toe'd boots.

The dwarf, Grendor, greets him with a laugh "Another glorious battle won Cromm? BWAHAHAHAHA. My armpits smell better than you! I'd say they must have had you fighting at the bottom of a latrine but that might make you smell better! BWAHAHAHA

"Can it DWARF before I turn you and your armor into a Latrine! the orcish brute replies with a toothy snarl. He walks his way straight to the Rakshasa and bows his head in deference bowing to one knee. "My actions were not my own. You know this"

The tiger-man stands threateningly above the half-orc and slaps him with all his might. "You will pay for it Cromm, they will pay for it. EVERYONE WILL PAY FOR IT! The collective crowd takes several steps back. Clearly afraid of both individuals. The elf whispers to the group "I've never seen Cromm bow to anyone. He is literally unstoppable on the battlefield. I've seen him take on a DRAGON and walk away from it."

The barbarian, for that is what you surmise Cromm must be screams in horrid rage and draws his serrated axe. He takes a swing, not at the wizard, but at a nearby human who had stopped sparring to watch the unfolding scene. The hit nearly decapitates the man and the half-orc lifts the now corpse above his head, axe still embedded and tosses him literally across the room in a fit. He storms off towards the cells his chest heaving, the whole time in the background you hear the laughs of Grendor BWAHAHAHAHAHA BWAHAHAHAHA!!

It is just then that you realize two things: One; Temenon is still standing alone in the throng, something never seen before and two; the fact that he IS alone. His demon companion Torment no-where to be seen. You ponder if a demons blood is the same color as a mans and who's blood covers the angry half-orc? What just happened in the Arena? Your thoughts are interrupted as the great bell rings telling you it is clearly time for more killing.

Temenon looks at Drek and smiles. Show me you are able. Bring 3 others. Slay the beast for me and I will reward you.

Drek nods. "Who will join me in slaying this beast?" His massive chest heaves from the adrenaline coursing through it, and he seems to have forgotten about the still-bleeding wounds suffered in the last battle.

"Jade stands ready for this battle!" the elven monk proclaims.

The young bard begins to raise his hand reluctantly when a large man moves to stand in front of him. The fighter's heavily muscled arms ripple with tendons and veins. He heaves his maul up to rest on his shoulder. "Halga is ready." The man states grimly as he moves to stand near Drek.a

Valya looks up from her spellbook where she has been concentrating on focusing exercises, trying to recapture some of the magical energy she's expended with her profligate spellcasting. She looks at the ring that the rakshasa had awarded her with, face pensive, then closes her grimoire and stands up, slipping the book into her satchel.

"I'll fight as well," she says.

The ring was power, and temptation, but it was more than anything a price. A price for a service she had yet to give. She disliked owing that debt...perhaps this would move towards evening the scales.