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Tournament Round 2 - PG and Sargoth
Topic Started: Jun 22 2009, 11:53 PM (479 Views)
Necromancer Sargoth
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Affably Evil
She waited, eyes wide and tense, for the blow that would end her life. Mikeil’s sword had missed her by mere inches, and had buried itself into the gravel between Zanara’s legs. All that remained for Mikeil was the simple action of freeing his blade and bringing down that killing stroke. Freedom would be his, and a sizable bounty too, if he ever puzzled out just who he had slain. Yet that stroke never came.

The moons had smiled upon Zanara, and she knew it. The smile on her face told the tale. The poison had finally taken its toll, almost too late, and now she had won. She could feel it in her bones; there was no coming back for Mikeil. If he could not finish her off then, surely he’d never again have the opportunity. He joined the Ixa’takan on the gravel floor of the cage, and a hush fell over the audience, unsure who the victor was or if one truly existed. To claim her freedom, Zanara simply had to stand up and take it.

How she struggled to do just that. The blood loss from her wound, coupled with the searing pain, made it difficult. She felt dizzy and her limbs were as rubber. The dusky cavern swam around her; she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Her breathing was ragged and uneven. She let out a sigh, and mustered whatever will remained within her. She let her eyes closed and balled her hands into fists once more.

“Moons,” she whispered, barely audible even to her, “give me strength.”

A green glow enveloped the killer, healing her minor wounds, and stopped the bleeding. Her eyes came into focus and a meager strength returned to her limbs. The Sacri spell, while weak, had done the trick. She rose to her feet, and the crowd responded ecstatically. They never cared who won, simply that someone would win. Their dark contest was near its conclusion at last, and Zanara already began to plan her revenge. However, first she needed to finish the match, if the poison already had not.

Mikiel lie not far from where she herself had fallen. He was deathly pale, appeared to have lost consciousness. The dim light of the torches revealed the sheen of sweat on his skin. The boy was not long for this world, but Zanara would leave no room for error. She smiled as she retrieved his own weapon from the gravel; her own was still lodged in his flesh and she dared not retrieve it until she knew he was dead for certain.

The weight of the blade made it unwieldy, but with two hands she lifted the point up over Mikeil’s neck. With a shout she brought the blade down hard, eyes wild with anticipation. The spray of blood would only make her victory all the sweeter. If any force on Arcadia were to save Mikeil’s life, it had mere seconds to do so.
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