Pride of the Pit Chapter 1: Blood of Battle

As I walked down the dark halls, I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? Why am I here?" Every time I asked that to myself, a harsh voice came back to me saying, "It is for your brethren! It is for your pride! You are here to fight by the sword and fall by the sword!" If all this was true, then why did it feel so wrong. To fight by the sword, to fight for the pride of my people, it all seemed so honorable and worthy of respect. Ten years ago I never would have thought that I would end up here, of all places. If anything, I never wanted to see another place like this again.

I was almost five yards from the door, and my heart thumped louder and louder. I could feel it in my chest and I could hear it in my head. Sweat fell from my face and I had not even started yet. I grasped by double-bladed sword with great anxiety and my shield with great fear. All those years of training would finally pay off here and now. No more practicing and no more second chances. It was now or never.

Opening the doors, the bright sun hit my face with such intense heat. Bringing my eyes back into focus, I saw the entire setting. The stands were flowing with people of all races: humans, elves (night elves and blood elves), orcs,
trolls, merlocks, gnolls, dwarves, you name it. The roam of cheers that followed made me feel special, like I belonged. It was funny how an event that I so greatly hated would fill me with so much pride. I glanced over the arena, seeing the dirt-covered land that I would do combat on. It was as flat as a calm ocean and seemed as large as one as well.

But my face turned pale when I glanced over to the other end of the field. No one had told me who my opponent would be, for it was arena tournament rules for the combatants never to know who their next opponent would be. Over on the other side of the arena, possibly weighing over five hundred pounds was a colossal ogre. He had but one head, unlike some of his other kind, and wielded a giant club that was about my size in height and twice my size in width. I saw the fire in his eyes and if I hadn't been so frightened I would have seen the blood trickling down from his mouth. His hands glowed fiery red. This ogre must of been an ogre magi, for he had cast the spell Bloodlust upon himself.

I felt some hope for I was an elvish spellbreaker, a master of stealing magic of all kinds, including Bloodlust. But that didn't change the fact that this monster was three times my height. The ogre looked toward the stands, and I followed his eyes. All were gazing upon the host of the arena battle, a dwarf mountain king by the name of Murriod. Murriod stood looked at the ogre and then me. Lifting his hands, he announced, "Let the tournament begin!"

I looked back at the ogre, but he was no where to be seen. Glancing around frantically, I finally saw the massive beast... about three feet in front of me and two hundred feet above me. With his awesome strength he had jumped over the entire battlefield and landed right in front of me. Lifting his club high above his head, he spoke with his goofy ogre accent, "Die you little bug!" In a panic I jumped away just in time to avoid his fatal blow. Looking back I noticed his club was stuck in the ground, unable to pull out. Will he was busy with his club, I quickly spoke, "Handu Falla!" I saw and felt the red energy engulfing the ogre's fists fly out of his hands and come into mine.

It was then that I snapped. Something deep inside me just gave way, like a darker more sinister side of me that had been struggling for freedom had finally made it out. The passion of battle filled my soul and I felt the red hot intensity of blood and carnage flow through my veins. I had not noticed that I had also increased in size by twofold, making me the same size as the ogre, of whom decreased in size having lost the Bloodlust cast upon him.
"Uh oh..." panicked the ogre as I swung my twin blades at him. His arm fell to the ground, severed and unattached to his body. The ogre wailed in pain and flung himself at me, thinking of somehow hindering me in that way. The crowds cheered and roared as he came at me. But then the crowd fell silent, for the ogre froze. Finally I realized that my blade was not positioned where it was when I cut off his arm, having been a up-down slice. At this point my blade was on the other side of the ogre, at was coated in blood. I looked back at the ogre, and his face was frozen as well. After a few more seconds his head slid off his neck and both his relinquished head and his body fell to the ground, dead. I looked back at Murriod and he looked back at me, giving me a nod. Murriod stood up, and the crowds awaited anxiously.

"The winner!" Murriod finally announced.

The crowds went wild with glee and excitement and I could not help but smile. I felt the Bloodlust leaving me, and my size and sense of reality returning to normal. Then I felt cold inside, seeing I had slain a living being. The crowds were happy and joyous, but I was not. If it was such a victory for the blood elves, then why did I feel like I such a defeat. All I knew for sure was that if I make it out of this tournament alive, I will never do such a thing ever again. But until then I will fight and die with the sword, from the sword, and by the sword. I swear to it as an elf and as a living being.

As I entered the lobby at the exit of the grand structure that was the arena, I was suddenly hailed by roars of cheering elves. It then dawned on me that no other blood elf has ever survived the first round. Flowers and coins were given to me as gifts to my victory and what might be the come back of the blood elves. But as so as I was away from the crowd in a dark ally, I came across Kael, my mentor and ally.

"How was it." he asked.

"I cannot describe it, master." said I.

"Did you enjoy the fierce struggle of combat, the bloody carnage of battle?" he asked.

I nodded.

"But once you saw your slain foe" he continued. "You were consumed with grief and sorrow."

Again I nodded.

"Which do you think is worth it? The passion or the pain?" he asked.

"I will tell you this much, master Kael." I said to him. "I will continue to fight for my people's pride. But once this entire tournament is done with I wish never to hear of battle again."

"Fair enough. Exactly as it should be. You shall soon know the true gift and curse of the warrior. Here, take this."

From his crimson cloak he revealed an orb. Within the orb I could see intense fire and flame. I had read of these objects, known as Orbs of Fire. But this one particular orb was marked with a phoenix's talon, the symbol of the blood mage.

"Within this orb lies the power of the blood mage." said Kael. "Once imbued with its magics you will be gifted with all the abilities of a blood mage. This will be useful to you."

"Thank you." I said, taking the orb from him gratefully. "I will be sure to use it with great honor."

The orb then vanished from my grip in a burst of fire. I felt heat rush through my body and knew that I was fused with the might of the blood mage. Perhaps I would stand a chance in this tournament after all. If I play my cards right, I may be able to lead a normal life and never have to deal with fighting or war ever again.