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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 4617565" data-attributes="member: 46615">The next minute or two are somewhat a blur.    Estrangular planted huge shields, each five feet tall, in the sand before them creating an impenetrable barrier for the arrows that rained down from each of the Hydra.    Seeing the lack of effect, only my crossbow bolt scored a strike and the pleasant accompanying yelp, we discarded our bows and charged forward. As I leapt forward I felt a strange dizziness overcome me and the ground rushed to meet my face as I realised that I was under the influence of some magical command.    A sharp pain in my side roused me. I found myself lying in the middle of the arena, hardly the position for a knight of the realm!  Moxadder stood over me, “Ge’ up Gerard!” he screamed as he wound back his foot for another kick. Seeing I was conscious he thankfully ceased the motion and let fly with a dagger at a foe I could not see, before whipping another from a sheath and running off.    I clawed for my rapier that had been dislodged from my grip and jumped to my feet, absently brushing the sand from clothes. I did not know how much I had missed, but it was obvious that the battle had moved on. All of my companions were engaged in hand to hand combat except for Morgan who was pulling down the shield wall. A huge beast with head and wings of an eagle and body of a lion was tearing through one of our opponents. I quickly reasoned that it must be some beast that Kuruul and called to aid us, for no other Hydra could do such a thing.    Feeling somewhat uncomfortable ogling my comrades I cried out “Montfort!” and charged into the fray.     Perhaps a minute later it was over. The Hydra had triumphed. Members of the team Estrangular lay sprawled and were being tended by the healers of Urumei.    The crowd was rapturous in their applause. Everything I had desired and come to fruition.    The Hydra was on everyone’s lips the next day. There was no doubt that we were the darlings of the Games. A first time team was not meant to win, teams and gladiators had to first serve (and survive) their apprenticeship. They were supposed to fight bravely and lose gallantly. Not actually defeat an opponent!    We were to face Tundra Storm, a team of crazed barbarians and woodsman that venerated Srcan and honoured her by hunting the forces of the Dominion. From what I had heard the night before our bout with them, when we had been celebrating our victory, was that they were mad bunch and almost to a man insane.    Most of those that placed a wager on the fight saw no value in our brilliant victory against Estrangular, although as we once again stood within the vast arena there was the odd cry supporting us.    I turned from my survey of the crowd as a guttural beast-like war cry rose up from the Tundra Storm. They stood slightly hunched with legs apart and proceeded to unleash more bestial sounds, this time accompanied by some bizarre tribal dance which included some chest beating, thigh slapping and rather a lot of stomping.    I do believe it was some intimidatory tactic, but it was so absurd that it just provided me with amusement and some inspiration for the introduction of the Hydra.     “You have seen us before. We strangled Estrangular. We cut them down with ease! So much ease that I actually took a nap whilst my comrades dispatched our foe.” I proclaimed, much to the enjoyment of the gathered crowd.     “We are the Hydra. Let me reintroduce the heads of the beast.”     “Do not let him reveal his face! It is so foul, so physically repellent that his own parents left him to die in a snow drift. When he was born, the midwife slapped his face, mistaking it for his arse. This is a man so ugly that he inspires tears of pity in a Barbarian!” I turned and waved towards our opponents, who, now done with their dance stood completely still and just stared grim faced at us.     “And the face maketh the man. A vicious killer, he could kill you hunting and he could kill you drinking. I give you Argonne, the Repulsive!” I roared out the woodsman’s name. This time Argonne was even more receptive to the cheers that greeted him. He waved both hands in the air and then gave a couple of big swings with his axe.     I continued on “You may find him cute. Perhaps even cuddly. To you appears a child or perhaps a midget or jester. He looks such a funny little fellow. But you judge him poorly! He sucks the very souls from men. He drains them so that they wither and die! Their bodies are dry empty husks when he is done. He is Mighty Mortec, Devourer of Life.” This time Mortec did not even bother to glare at me, he just took it in his small stride and moved forward.     “What can be said about the next head of the Hydra? He once stood a-top the walls of Avinal and single-handedly drove away the Hordes of the Dominion. So fearsome is his rage all that stand before him quack with fear. Already once has he taken a life in the Games. And I think he is just angry enough to kill again. I give you Mad Dog Morgan Martigan.” Morgan put on an evil wolfish grin as he too stepped forward to be beside the Gnome.     “I have no doubt that my next companion is totally insane. More insane even than the Tundra Storm. He is so devoid of sense that, unprovoked, he taunted and antagonised an undead priest in what was once his church. It should have been his last taunt because that priest killed him.” I paused for effect, “That’s right my friends this man has already died once and that did not stop him! He is back from the dead just for you! Like the cats he hates, he has nine lives, and every one a nasty one. He is Stravarius.” Strav threw his arms up and allowed every pore of his body to soak up the attention that was his and his alone.     “He is vile. He is despicable. There is nothing he will not stoop to. He has no morals. I have never met a nastier man. His behaviour make Gerech’s Angels cry in outrage and even Demons turn pale with disgust. He is a Hydra yet I don’t trust him. How could !? He is just as likely to stick me as one of our foes. He is our very own, Moxadder.” The Fastendian was still no happier to receive the claps and cries of encouragement from the assembled masses. Once again he shrunk within his clothing and impossibly tried remain unnoticed.      “My sixth companion is beauty personified. So in touch with his own body that he disdains the sword or axe. His very hands deliver death. Do not let him touch you, not even in that special way, for it will be the last thing you will feel. He is Zhontell.” I cried, hoping to elicit some response from the elf, but again he did not move, just focused on our enemies and plotted their demise.     “My next companion only eats flesh and bone. If he does not kill you with his crushing jaws and dreaded fangs, his breath certainly will. It reeks of blood and death. I present, the Prince of Drool, Kuruul.” I bellowed and gestured to the mutt, who as usual chose to pay no attention whatsoever and even began to lazily scratch behind his left ear.     “And finally, I present myself. None is handier with the blade. I toy with my foes. A prick here, a slash there. I choose to play with them so that you, my friends, are entertained. They laughably try to fell me but they cannot for I am as nimble as cat. Their blows pass only through the space I once occupied. I am none other than the saviour of the Games, Sir Gerard d’Montfort.” I bowed low and, as I had done before, swept my hat low across the arenas’ floor. The crowd burst! They cried out encouragement and cheered the Hydra even though they thought we had no hope in surviving the Storm.     The Master of the Games somewhat petulantly, his thunder stolen, yelled, “Fight!”     It was utter chaos. Both the Tundra Storm and the Hydra loosed some arrows and then charged at one another. My blade was in my hand in an instant and rapidly thrusting into a chain mail clad foe. I easily dodged his own blows whilst piercing him several more times in a flurry of attacks.     A beam of light flared from the other end of the arena and struck Moxadder, who had been beside me. He did not even have a chance to shield his eyes, he fell motionless beside me.      Obviously Moxadder and I were perceived to be the most significant threats; another thrust from me proved the later view as my opponent slid lifelessly from my steel. A moment later it was confirmed as an arrow struck me deeply in the side. I stumbled, somewhat fortuitously, as at that moment another of the Tundra Storm appeared and launched a mighty blow aimed to hew my neck.     As I recovered and prepared to parry the next awesome strike that the sword he wielded in two hands was about to deliver his back arched, throwing his chest forward. I twisted my rapier from its parry and stabbed with it. I felt its point puncture flesh and then an intense light blinded me and I fell.     My eyes flickered open to see a cowled, clean shaven face peering at me. “You were injured in the battle, but now you are well. Blessed be Urumei.” The priest of Urumei said in a husky tone, before moving away looking to tend others wounds.     As I gingerly picked myself up from the sand (this was becoming too much of a habit for me) my ears registered the roaring crowd, “Hydra! Hydra! Hydra!” My heart leapt for joy, we had won again! Only two more gladiatorial teams stood before us and the glory of being hailed as the champions of the Games!     Later, my companions told me the detail of the melee. When I had gone down Kuruul had summoned more of the eagle headed creatures that aided our first Games victory. With their aid, primarily fighting enormous apes that Tundra Storms’ priests had called, a long and bloody fight eventuated in our victory. Moxadder, myself and Mortec had all been downed at various stages during the combat. Mortec had suffered most dearly from the battle. The mighty Gnome, no more than four feet tall faced a huge gorilla in single combat. It had ended badly for the brave Gnome. The great ape had torn Mortec’s left arm from its socket and then hurled the bloody limb into the roaring crowd. Thankfully the priests of Urumei managed to save the Gnome’s life, but not even they could use the God of Healing’s power to repair the damage that had been done only remove the pain so that he could compete again.     Argonne, Kuruul and Morgan had managed to fell the priests that they opposed and then concentrate on the remaining enemies. Morgan, from all accounts was the hero of the Hydra, his arrows flying true he had felled two of the Tundra Storm, and with his blade he had aided the incapacitation of two more.     We were celebrating long into the night at the Inn at the End of the Road, before we received some dreadful news.</blockquote>

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