Behind the walls

Writings of a wandering mind

In the Underdark Gladiatorial Arena

Posted By in Fantasy Fiction

In the Underdark Gladiatorial Arena

The following is a bit of flavor text I came up with for dramatic effect. The PC’s will be put into a precarious position, finding themselves in an Underdark gladiatorial arena. There is a complication, however. Losing in the arena usually means death. Killing the people’s champion much the same. Somehow the heroes must walk a delicate tightrope, appease a bloodthirsty crowd and survive long enough to find a solution.

Arena Advertising – “This clash of steel was brought to you by, Silkweaver Sinners. Bringing you the best merchandise on Kings Highway. When only the best will do, choose Silkweaver!”

Blood pit Announcer – “Lusties and louts. Boys and girls. Demons and dominated ….. Iiitt’s time for the maaain event!”

The roar of the crowd is deafening, striking the walls with force, rocking all.

“We have a special fight to-nite! It’s an intruder’s cunning versus our Defender’s might!”

The noise becomes as a living thing, rippling its claws over scalp and skin.

“Our reigning champion holds at 79 kills, 4 mercies and 0 losses. He stands at 8 1/2 blades tall …. weighing in at 365 irons …. HE IS THE PRIDE OF NINE. THE ROAR OF WAR …. OOOHH! NOO! IT’S OHHHSO!!!”

The arena responds as one collective scream. They chant their heroes name while stomping a rhythm.

Meanwhile, in your staging area, a guest announcer looks to you. His four lidless eyes stare as he says, “K. Wherz your intro?” He holds out a seven-fingered gloved hand expectantly.

“Well, wadda dey mall ya?

(PC’s role play and prepare for combat. Based on how successful they are in this directly affects their impending combat encounter.)

[Just a bit of context. Ametheon is a dark hero of my game, and consequently one badass rogue. (If you were to make a hybrid clone of Batman mixed with the Punisher and Riddick, you’d begin to get a grasp how Ametheon rolls). As he has risen in power and prestige, Ametheon has made a few competitive enemies, or frienemies as they say. As cities go, Waterdeep is a big one and every city has its criminal element (or organized crime). Shadow Wind is THE hitman that these elements go to. ]

4th Edition D&D – The Assassin, Shadow Wind. (Draft 1.2)

As Pelor’s orb hung over Waterdeep, shadows pooled in the cities allies and depths. A salty breeze blew in off of the bay, while Shadow Wind sat crouched among the sullen and snarling statuary of an empty church tower. The eladrin’s cloak and scarves lightly billowed about. Were it not for this, Shadow Wind would have been just another nameless gargoyle holding silent watch. Gazing endlessly over a crawling city and trackless sea, the assassin searched. Shadow Wind’s gaze raked the squalid docks and ships moored there. His eyes were as sharp as any raptor and quick to find their mark, as they pounced upon a prize. Shadow Wind instantly recognized the hood and mask of Ametheon, as he strode down the docks.

Shadow Wind spoke to the air about him, “Ametheon is a rare creature. He is one without shadow, yet holds great darkness”. The air stirred about restlessly. “He may be the one I have been looking for”. In silent answer, a light wind took up Shadow Wind’s scarves and wrapped them tighter. The swirling current of air embraced Shadow Wind one moment, only to still the next.

Shadow Wind snapped forward, speaking his thoughts. “A man WITHOUT shadow!” The eladrin leaned to and fro, for confirmation. “Where is his Shade? Where is his Demon?”

Wide-eyed and breathless, Shadow Wind stood silently trying to piece together what it all meant. As his thoughts churned, so too did the air. Shadow Wind whispered in the wind, “Why would you part from your power? How could you sever yourself from such a spirit?”

As if in answer, another figure appeared with several more in tow. They were shelled in heavy armor or wrapped in fine thread. Adventurers all. Yet it was the first one that demanded attention. Shadow Winds eyes squinted in focus at the svelte creature. She was adorned in similar cloth and cut of garment, masked much the same as well. Her cutting figure moved with feline grace. The woman wore her swords as if they were a comfortable extension of form. Shadow Wind’s hand gripped the gargoyle tightly, crushing his ear in a powdery explosion. He cursed quietly as Ametheon and the cloaked woman embraced tightly. Their cloaks wrapped about them in their twirling embrace. For only a moment, the two appeared as one.

“You fool!” Shadow Wind spat. “You gave it up…….FOR A WOMAN!”

A howl of wind rose with the assassin’s lament, swallowing his cry. Shadow Wind leapt from the tower’s height and joined the wind. His fey form dissolved into the element embraced to speed over rooftop and alley alike. As Shadow Wind flew he made an oath. “I will restore your greatness Ametheon, by removing your weakness. I will make you as you were.” The city passed underneath Shadow Wind in a blur as he spoke. “It’s for your own good after all. Then maybe we can move forward as allies,” Shadow Wind sighed, “or enemies embracing the bloodied truth to whom perfection holds.”

The assassin reached his destination. Before him lay a mausoleum, and the depths hidden below.

“I can not abide by your diminished state, Amatheon. For it is a lie, a fallacy. Together we will find truth.”

Ametheon and Zarra walked the docks a pair, his friends just steps behind. A bone weary fatigue weighed Ametheon’s limbs with lead and halted his steps. Zarra stopped and tilted her head in question. As Ametheon spoke a chill breeze tugged at his hood. “It’s nothing. I just got a sudden chill, as if someone had walked across my grave”

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