| (OCC: Sorry I was late on posting but I've been busy. Also about my post, I'm assuming we are restored to full health before each round so thats were my opening idea came from. If there are any problems with this can a judge please PM me.)
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Little else was to be done as Solstafir dived to the side, hoping to evade most of the bullets fired at him. Time seemed to slow through his eyes, as the wall of speeding metal was about to pierce armour and flesh. Vision unwavering from the sight, he expected the feeling of sharp, agonizing pain to course through his body. But there was none. In a flash of soft blue light, Solstafir found himself stood in a dark chamber once more. The sounds of rattling chains and indecipherable chanting surrounded him as for once in his existence, his nerves were on edge. Bound by a strange magick, he couldn’t move his body as he willed it to walk; even a simple turning of his neck couldn’t be achieved as he was locked in place.
But his eyes could still wander and see into the half-light. Torches burned dimly with a stagnant smell everything was engulfed in shadow. Withering pillars of darkness seemed to surround him as the muttering grew louder, more intense and frantic in there words. Not a word could be understood to his ear as another shadow stepped forward baring a lantern in right hand. He came from the darkness as if he was always there and stopped just infront of Solstafir. Aged brown robes dawned his frail figure and a huge sweeping grey beard hung down from the hood over his head. Lifting the lantern, his face became more apparent. Eyes that swirled with a hazy blue mist. Deep lines intermixing as scars and wrinkles merged into one.
“Its alright,” He spoke, his words carrying soothing comfort in the desolate abyss, “This is only a standard procedure for us. We’re tending to your wounds at an accelerated rate.”
“And why might I ask are you doing that?” Questioned Solstafir, finally able to find his voice.
“Why wouldn’t we? It’d wouldn’t be a fair and interesting fight to send in warriors half dead from previous rounds now would it?” The old man laughed in the face of Solstafir, thinking he was the stupid one. “Yes child, you did win your match and so you will progress to the next round.”
Half annoyed by the man’s manner of speech, Solstafir’s eyes showed a spark on anger that stood out from the pale reflection they normally showed. Biting his tongue though to save insulting the elder, he thought about what to say carefully as he began, “Well I should thank you for this but where am I and what the hell are those?” He enquired, using his eyes as a gesture to point at the shadowy figures that still muttered around him.
“Where? Ah now this is the genius of it all. You’re in a small pocket of time outside of the normal flow. In here we can heal you quickly then get you back to your match as soon as we can. That way we don’t bore the audience with long breaks whilst any normal medic would tend to you.” The old man took a step back and wondered over to one of the chanting figures. He raised his lantern again and showed what it was. The creature was horror to behold. It’s entire being was covered in moving faces that repeated the words where the head was. Its many eyes were all fixed on Solstafir as there voice spoke faster once more. The same pale blue light started to engulf him as he could feel the presence of his wounds fading, his body renewed.
As his vision became distorted once more, Solstafir could here the last words of the man, “You’ll be glad to know the name of your enemy. I think you’ll remember him. Dragoth if I’m not mistaken. And be sure to make it entertaining for us at the very least.”
The light faded. The darkness was held. But Solstafir found himself in a different place once more. Looking around there were no creatures, no old man, no torches. Nothing new at all as he remembered the place he was in. The looming darkness dispersed as the same gears grinded and the gate to the arena opened. As he took his leave of the empty cesspit, he clenched his hands. His right hand curled into a fist whilst his left refused to. Instead he found an apple in his hand, unnoticed until now. He smiled as he took a bite from the sweet fruit and walked further up the ramp into the well-lit arena. The sun still hung high but its heat was easier than before. Discarding the remains of the fruit onto the sandy floor, he looked over to where he opponent stood. Sighing, he thought to himself ‘Hopefully I won’t have to make too much of a mockery of him.’ | 
07-09-2008, 09:37 PM
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