The next day, our ignoble heroes once again ventured forth into the arena for to do glorious combat. The opponents this time were a team of seven gnolls: intelligent, dogfaced humanoids with a penchant for violence. "Where the fuck are all these teams coming from?" Rayne commented as she readied her cutlass for yet another busy day's bloodletting. "I'm not sure," replied Arathamus, "sometimes I wonder if there's not some sadistic mastermind in the sky above us with a book filled with monsters, alphabetized, and categorized by danger level; and he's gloating with vicious glee as he throws the entire book at us!"
The gnolls, vicious beasts, were divided among themselves with three axe wielders, and three gnolls sporting longbows. Their obvious leader was wearing an ornamental headdress with feathers and bones from strange beasts adorning it. A warcleric of the gnoll tribes was a fearsome sight to behold: heavy metal armor protecting her leathery hide and making a sickening shrieking sound at the rusty plates ground against each other.
Once the announcer left the stadium, a fierce raucous erupted, as both teams rushed each other. The fierce Iago led the way into the fray, bashing his great-axe into gnolls left and right, and receiving a bloody repayment as they returned in kind. Malachi, the great Ti-gar and former general of Carnassa, leapt into the fray and stood back to back with the mighty ursa, blood spraying around him in a mist as both he and his foes received liberal damage. As the two animalistic warriors engaged the barbarians, the rest of the team charged the archers. Rayne neatly sliced past the armor of one archer, and as the gnoll dropped his bow and pulled a short sword, a lightning bolt from Arathamus' dropped him to the ground. Rayne wasted no time to thank the benevolent bard, instead rushing off to tackle yet another foe. Thyme busied herself attempting to bestow healing magic upon the belabored pair of Malachi and Iago, and was unable to grant any aid in the physical confrontations surround her. As Astra peppered one of the two remaining gnolls with her arrows, Rayne dodged amongst the shafts and slashed furiously at the archer, doing little damage though, as her blade kept being turned aside by the well wrought chainmail. The free archer made the most of her opportunity, and managed to embed not a few arrows in Malachi and Iago both. The mighty warriors were being tested as never before as it was but Thyme's healing powers alone that kept both afoot. Already one gnoll warrior had fallen, but two yet remained and seemed determined to slaughter the mighty general and the formal gladiator. Suddenly, the rain of arrows stopped, as Zieckel once again performed his signature move of eviscerating his opponent from behind, unseen even at the moment, until blood and vicera covered his form and gave away his outline. He charged the cleric, and gave her a superficial cut as she pivoted aside. However, without warning, she fell to the ground, motionless.
A glazed expression came over the kobold's eyes, and he abruptly turned around, and hurled a fireball at the unsuspecting Arathamus. Flames engulfed the bard, and as the smoke settled, he looked visibly shaken. The entire party was taken aback by this turn of events. Zieckel was not supposed to be in possession of arcane abilities. Something truly wrong was afoot. As the kobold disappeared thanks to his magic ring, Malachi hesitated in shock and bewilderment. This was all the opening his gnoll opponent needed, and he swung his axe wildly into the distracted Ti-gar. The former general fell to the ground, lifeless as his vision faded into darkness. Iago responded to this murder with a roar that sent chills down the spines of the audience as he whirled around with his axe and neatly severed the heads of both the gnolls surrounding him. Now there was nothing left but corpses and the remaining party members in sight. However, the battle was far from over.
Fireballs began to rain down upon the party, as the possessed kobold was forced to turn upon his own team. Thyme called down a fireblast on the area where the last orb of fire had erupted, but there was nothing showing as a result. Astra gazed out in annoyance, as her eyes found no targets for her arrows. Rayne dashed out to the left, her blade out in front of her as she literally tried to feel out the kobold. Arathamus hurled out an arcane spell which he hoped would dispel the magic of the kobold, but nothing appeared. Seconds later, a beam of green energy burst out and seared into the bard, knocking him to the ground in agony. Coughing up blood, he stood up shakily as he gazed over to see Thyme already busying herself magically sealing gaping wound on Iago. Iago capered around, roaring and spewing curses to the emptiness. He postured and snarled, futilely attempting to intimidate the invisible kobold.
Cursing himself for not thinking of it earlier, Arathamus quickly chanted a cantrip Amon had taught him ages earlier, and with a careful articulation of his digits and a pinch of the correct reagent from his spell pouch, all that was hidden became revealed to him. With his newfound ability to see that which is normally invisible, he readied himself to cast yet another "dispel magic", this time aimed directed at the unsuspecting kobold. Just as he raised his hands to do so, he was rocked as yet another fireball engulfed the party. As his sight and strength faded, he suddenly felt a warm energy engulf him and revive him. Catching a knowing glance from Thyme, he then hurled his own spell at Zieckel. The dazed kobold collapsed to the ground and slowly staggered to his feet, just as the gnoll cleric jumped up with a start. The female's eyes swelled in horror as she realized her gambit had failed and now the collective wrath of all the remaining party members descended upon her. A flurry of arrows flew from the ranger's great-bow as she once more had a target worthy of attack. As shafts peppered the cleric, flames once more descended from the heavens, this time finding their mark. As Arathamus attempted to fish out his wand from his sleeve, Rayne charged in to punish the gnoll for giving them such a hard time. Iago however, beat the swashbuckler to the singed cleric, and brutalized her in ways which can not be put down in words. Seconds later, there was nothing left but the smell of death, burned flesh, and a bloody paste where once had stood the gnoll cleric. A hush fell over the audience, as such viciousness was seldom seen even in tournaments. The announcer declared the party as winners, and local clerics rushed in to revive Malachi and help tend to the wounded party members. The day was won, but the cost seemed high indeed, as the party had been forced to fight as never before.
That night, as the party headed to their separate rooms, Arathamus pulled the Ti-gar aside and had a hushed conversation with him. The rest of the party seemed oblivious to this as they went about their nightly rituals. As the two parted ways, snoring could be heard from all but one of the rooms, and a rasping sound of a cutlass against whetstone betrayed Rayne's presence in her room. Tomorrow, they had been told, was the semifinals. There was only four teams remaining, and they would face their penultimate match, assuming they won it.
A/N
What comes next for our evil heroes? Tune in next time as I wrap up the shocking conclusion to the tournament. Where do they go from here? And most of all, What were Arathamus and Malachi discussing late into the night? All will soon be answered! THE MUTE BARD