Cheeseliker -> RE: =EC= Cellar Arena (8/28/2006 13:30:49)
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Daroth grinned as he saw the conflicts shaping up. The cleric and the bowman, the red-eyed one and the Shadowmancer, The firehand and the trap-layer..... Nobody had decided to take the fight to himself, and Daroth idly wondered why. Intimidated? Frightened? Or just by chance perhaps..... Whatever the case, Daroth was ready to get in the mix, but who to attack? An obvious choice was the Shadowmancer. Destroying Dark element users other then himself would surely give him an advantage in continuing on in the arena, but then again, fighting the same element was never easy. They knew the tricks you used, the power you had, and fights were usually long and drawn out, no matter how much more powerful one combatant was over the other. No, Daroth wasn't ready to expend that amount of energy so early in the contest. The firehand and the trap-layer? Daroth snorted. Let them kill themselves.... The trap-layer seemed quite clever, and had many tricks up his sleeve, meanwhile the firehand......Was he blind? And if blind, how did he see so well? A powerful one, to be able to move and fight so well while being blind. Another entered the fray between them, another fire-user it seemed, coming to aid his fellow. Daroth laughed and shook his head. Fool! Being of the same element does not mean you are allies, my young friend. In fact, in a place such as this, it means they were more the enemy then anyone else. In a contest of the elements, there can only be one champion for fire. I would not be surprised to see with a dagger in your back from the very man you helped. Daroth turned away, searching for another to sake his thirst for battle. The cleric! Of course! Pathetic healers and peace-makers. Healing and talking will do you no good down here. In this cellar, your light will fall to the darkness. The shadows will consume you. I will gladly send you to the greatest of all Lords. You know him, as do we all. Give him my best regards priest, for I know him well. Your beliefs defy him, your spells deny him. Death will be glad to have you priest, and I will be glad to send you. Daroth clenched his left fist, closing his eyes and concentrating. "Ssend me your gift, oh Lord, sso that I may ssserve you better...." Daroth muttered, and his hand began to shake. He tightened his fist harder, and clenched his teeth, breathing in and out deeply. After a couple seconds, he let go of the fist, the shaking stopped, and he breathed out slowly, a grin forming on his face. "Thank you, my lord." Daroth said glancing to the side. One of the shadows beneath a torch began to grow, forming a four-legged shape. The shadow detached itself and went to Daroth's side. It looked like a wolf, only with midnight black fur, and red eyes. He reached down, petting it, and it growled. His smile grew. He crouched down and whispered in its ear. "The cleric Dark Wolf. Rip him apart." Daroth stood as the animal bounded away, sprinting straight at the cleric. It lunged, teeth snarling, teeth gnashing, ready to rip out the clerics throat, chest, or any body part he could get a hold of. It would try it's hardest to disable the cleric in any way possible, at the very least, providing a distraction that would give Daroth enough time to strike. Daroth walked slowly behind the wolf, readying his sword. As he walked, he took his ring and middle finger of his left hand, and began tracing the edges of the sword, from the tip down. As he did this, his mouth moved, whispering an incantation of some sort. A green substance began to appear behind the fingers, dripping from the swords edge. Finishing, Daroth looked to the cleric, seeing how his wolf was doing, and readying himself to leap into action. With no healing, any cut at all would be brutal, but with a poisoned sword, hope of survival at all was diminished. Daroth grinned. "Time to die priest."
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