Demitasse and Sereena are up for it but Bastien excuses himself to pray in solitude and Nitendae can see no benefit in risking self-harm before their (possibly) most suicidal mission yet.
Only the young Volkon, feels torn.
As Marlon warms up and the other two prepare their spells, Volkon senses his blood pumping faster through his veins.
Battle is what he was born for, trained for. His muscular fingers unconsciously spasm for his sword.
Still, he knows that he's incapable of 'mock' combat. As soon as he'd started, the blood lust would rise and he would lose himself in the pure joy of violence.
He'd chop the giant Marlon down without thinking twice.
Instead, Volkon squats, elbows on knees, beside Issack and watches from the sideline.
The 'arena' is a roughly circular area, about a hundred feet in diameter and set in a fallow field not far from the church.
The rules are equally simple:
1) Anyone who moves or is moved out of that area, is considered defeated.
2) No potions, scrolls, wands or limited use magical items are to be used.
3) Melee weapons must be used, flat of their blade only and spells limited to low or non damaging.
4) Issack is the judge and his decision is final.
Volkon jumps slightly, as Issack shouts...
"Readisteadigo!"
Come on!!!
ReplyDeleteVolkon is more than ready. Although that may be the ridiculous anoyna of amber ale he has drunk talking.
Bless you Assif. I was expecting no responses, so I could say:
ReplyDelete"What? No comments? I guess It's true; no one talks about fight club!"
:P