Thank you to all of those who reviewed.  I have a free Dalamar plushy for anyone else who reviews!  Any takers? 

To the point:  I'm sorry I haven't written in so long.  I was grounded and then my family dragged me off to a place where there if no computer access all summer.  But anyway…..  I'm back.  Should I continue this story?  Does it suck?  Some input would really be great.

To explain:  Chaos has taken a few trophies after his war (Raistlin not included because he's "dead", same with Tas).  They have to fight as Gladiators, but if they die they will be brought back to life.  Except Dalamar, because he wouldn't admit to being scared shitless of Chaos, Chaos decided to break him.  The other Gladiators fight to punish the gods.  Chaos has simply decided to make his children feel guilty over what they created.

This chapter is so short because I'm just trying to see whether my penname still works.

Explanations

"And Today's Winners, or should we say survivors, are:  Ruthkus, our draconian, the Golden dragon Bolt, and Ysandir our Black Dragon.  Aren't you all so proud of yourselves?  Thank you and have a nice day," 

Adrian felt a bit like she was in a room with the autmatonic voice that sounded throughout the room where she now lived.  Her confusion at being thrust into this was subsiding, as was her nervousness about having to fight.  With her luck she'd have to fight a dragon, and then her death was assured.  It'd be quick, and she wouldn't have to worry about Chaos forcing her to live in pain, she would just be brought back to life.  Unlike stupid-mage-sitting-in-far-corner she had not tried to kill herself, and was most likely not in for the torment that he would suffer.  She knew he was mentally preparing himself.  Grrrrr, she still hadn't gotten her ramen.  Maybe if I barrowed some of Dalamar's spell components, and asked Milkweed if he's got anything in his packs….

Unlike either Dalamar or Adrian, Milkweed knew no fear, and no nervousness.  He had just about assured himself of victory, provided he did not have to fight a dragon.  It didn't matter either way.  All gladiators were somewhat immortal anyway.

"Adrian, Adrian, do you think Dalamar will magic me now?  He's got time, unless you count leaning against an invisible wall (this is the first time I've ever seen an invisible wall, not seen I meant-, well anyhow) as busy.  I mean, I've always wanted to fly, but I think being a bug would be interesting-,"

"If you were a bug I'd squash you, but if you really want to be a bug that badly….," Dalamar intoned.  He made a move as if to check a pouch for spell books, though he had brought none.

"Oh no, you don't!  He's not meant to be a buuuug!"  Adrian launched herself at Dalamar's offending hand.  Well not launched exactly, but tripped over her own feet and went flying in his general direction.  He didn't even bother to dodge when she landed face first at his feet, nursing shattered dignity.

"Sorry Dal, but you know you have to put up with me," she gave a wide toothy smile.

"I know it, but it doesn't mean I have to put up with you,"

"Uh, yeah you do,"

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Ya know, my mother told me that meanness only blows up in your face," Milkweed interrupted.

Dalamar made a quick sign in the air, and muttered a few words.  Milkweed's mouth moved, but no sound came out.  His face contorted as he tried to talk again.  He felt his throat for unwanted objects, but found nothing.  Dalamar smiled widely.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Adrian.  He repeated the sign in front of Adrian.  "You know what you need, a nice chaperone to check your power," 

My spell's not working….  Dalamar raised an eyebrow and gave Adrian a calculating look. 

"You are magic resistant," he said matter-of-factly.

"Of course, why'd you think your spell didn't work?"  She placed her hands on her hips, trying to look menacing, but coming off as some sort of mother. 

"What are you Adrian?"

"Mortal,"

"Not anymore, but you know what I mean,"

"Everything, well, almost everything" That's right, tell him the truth.  There's no way he'll believe it.

"You can't possibly be,"

"Oh?  And why not?"

"Well, perhaps it's possible.  Highly unlikely, but perhaps possible…."