The first set of stairs brought her down one level closer to the ground of the sand pit. A loud triumphant cheering from just behind her startled her and caused her to jump slightly. There was a large mob gathered around one of the tables against the rail which overlooked the arena, and Sorenna had to climb back up a few of the stairs and lean over the edge to see over them all.
At the table sat a rather burly and battle-worn looking dwarf, with a missing eye. There was a deep, angry, red welt of a scar and an empty socket where the eye used to be, and sweat had matted clumps of his bushy, wiry umber hair to his face.
His beard was soaked with little glistening droplets of perspiration, and he let off another victorious roar, raising his buff arms into the air high above his head and curling his hands into beefy little fists as he flexed.
Another man was on the floor, clutching a broken arm. It was mangled so badly, she could see bone sticking up through the skin. All this, was over an arm-wrestling match.
Many of the onlookers cheered and held their steins of ale and other beverages high into the air as a toast, and some groaned and grumbled as they exchanged platinum, gold, silver, and copper pieces with rather pleased looking spectators.
One person caught her eye however. From the distance she could not discern if it were male or female, for the figure was clad head to toe in a hooded black robe. They moved away from the crowd slowly and over to one of the booths that was shadowed by the overhand of the stairs.
At the booth sat two more black hooded figures, and in front of one there was a mortar and pestle upon the table, as well as an empty stein.
She was thankful at that moment for her elven gift of infravision, for when she peered into the shadows, she gasped at the sight of the hands that were grinding the mortar and pestle. They were covered in deep grey, ridged scales.
"An Iskar?! How did one of their kind get into Tanembir?!" She gasped with hushed breath.
It was a Shaman from the looks of the trade skill as well. Alchemy. But what was he doing here? He lifted the stein and poured the grinded oils into it, handing it over then, to the other hooded figure at the table.
This other uncorked a flagon at his hip and poured deep reddish black liquid into the stein and stood, passing it to the first black cloaked form.
It was then that Sorenna saw the indigo skin on the hands of the two dark elves. She was beginning to regret coming here, and she half pondered on running to fetch one of the city guards, but she didn't want to seem suspicious to this bad news group.
Sorenna could only watch in horror as the figure carried the stein through the crowd to the table, and the dark blue hand tapped the rampant dwarf on the shoulder. With battle-lust blazing in his one eye, the little man turned his head to look up at the hooded figure.
"Ya an' wha' da ya wan'?!" The dwarf obviously knew no danger.
"I commend thee on thy victories, sir. Thou art clearly a formidable opponent in battle. But canst thou hold thy liquor as well as thy edge?" A woman's voice came from the hood, and she offered out the stein to the dwarf.
"The finest brew of the Tier D'al. Widow's Bog. Traditionally a woman's drink. Art thou man enough to at least have a taste?" This drow woman was up to no good, Sorenna knew it immediately. But then again, when were dark elves doing anything virtuous?
"Tha' soun's ta meh li'e a challan'e 'ere li'ul missy. Don' ya dar' t'ink I be fool 'nuff ta tarn down free lagger, give tha' 'ere!" He reached out and snatched the stein from her hands rather roughly, spilling a small portion onto the table.
The dwarf raised the stein to his lips and poured it down in gulps, dribbling much of it down his chin and over his beard and mustache. He finally slammed the stein down onto the table and raised one fist up into the air with a triumphant bellow as he licked the dark crimson stains from his lips to get every last drop he could.
"Thar! 'Appy? Pixie liquor tha' was! When ya guh' some lagger tha'll grow me s'mar 'air, you be comin' back, aright'?"
"As thou wishes, sir. But, might I ask thee that thou prove thy skill to my brother? He believes that thou art a cheat. Shall I fetch him as thy next opponent?" She pointed over to the smaller black hooded figure in the booth. The other drow.
"If'n tha lah'ies lookin' ter figh' meh the' 'e's too ah'ul-brained ta know wha' chea'in is. Meh name's Gron Heavyhammer, an' I ain' no chea'! Bring 'im 'ere!" He grunted and slammed his palm down upon the table, causing the stein to tip over and clang to the floor.
The figure at the booth stood and slowly made his way over to the table, sitting down opposite the obnoxious dwarf. The hood turned to look back at the only dark frame that remained that the booth, the Iskar, and the creature nodded.
"You don't need to know my name, dwarf, you'll never get to use it." The seated cloaked drow spoke in clearly a man's tone while he propped his arm up onto the table.
The sleeve of his robe slid down off his arm and revealed more indigo skin and a glittering platinum and onyx bracelet. The jewelry seemed to give off eerie waves of darkness. The dwarf was furious and he pointed accusingly at the bracelet.
"Nuh-uh! Usin' charms an' tha likes ain' allowed! Take i' off, so when I wins I can make I' mine!"
"As you so desire. But I'll warn you now, dwarf, you won't win." The drow removed the jewelry and set it down on the table away from their hands.
"Ya rea'y then bluebell? On tha coun' a t'ree. One...two...t'ree!" Sorenna watched in silent bewilderment as the last number was called.
The dark elf slammed his entire arm so far that it launched the dwarf over the rail and down into the arena below. Gron lay there in shock for a moment or two before realizing where he was, and he scrambled to his feet, though he stumbled when he tried to walk, as if his leg muscles couldn't support his own weight.
The Iskar shaman slipped a weakening draught into the drink and quite a powerful one from the effects of it too. Gron ended up crawling out of the arena before he could get himself into a row with the last four contenders, and Sorenna let out a sigh of relief.
The female drow collected money from the few people while the male slid his bracelet back on and rose. He tilted his head to the side, giving his neck a slight tilt as he made his way back to the Iskar's table.
Sorenna drew back her wolf skull hood and walked back down the steps, making her way around the second floor landing to the next set of stairs