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.