Settling on one of the individuals whom Lyssander had pointed out, the arctic shaman addresses himself to the half-drow (who, as Isigar approaches, can be seen to have faintly-visible scales all over his skin).  He had initially intended to seek out Ossian, but that personage seemed engrossed in Garath's book and not inclined to interrupt his perusal for the sake of a match with the druid.

"Zar-Da - greeting," he begins, his accent causing the name to be pulled into two rather distinct syllables.  "I am getelled you are being much-powerful for me in arena - but also, I am learning even in losing with you.  Perhaps I am being challenge enough, you are learning even in winning with me?  You are having want of fighting with me in arena?"

"Ayesha!" the ranger blurted out and her features brightened, seeing a friendly face. She picked up her drink and moved to sit beside the monk. "Hey, how has life been trrreating you?" she asked with the typical purr of her race.

'Mmm, meh.' Ayesha grunted with a shrug of her shoulders. 'Been wonderin' if I should try the Arena again. I think the besht way of winning is not to play. That way I don't get beat.'

Miarisha hmmm-ed thoughtfully, then said "You cannot win, if you don't play someone said." the catfolk offered "One cannot be surrre one will lose if one doesn't trrry." the ranger mused, half to herself.

The dark skinned shaman looks up from his bowl of soup and offered a slight smile at the man before him. Cocking his head to the side as the man spoke to him, taking a second to make sure he understood the words, the shaman stood and said,"Why not. I haven't been in the arena for a bit. Choose your arena and I will accompany you there."

OOC: Just so you know my post rate has slowed down a bit due to outside influences so if you're looking for a super quick back and forth I may not be your opponent of choice. If you are ok with that then BATTLE ON! :)

Isigar grins merrily at the dragon shaman.  "Is good - is excellent!  Arena...  maybe, river arena?  Is that one-" he points at one of the maps, the one entitled "Crossroads River".

"Is accepting?"

[OOC:  No worries re: posting rate!]

Glancing at Ayesha and Miarisha as they chat, the Sealer maintains his usual blank expression, but his eyes have a speculative look in them.

He casually walks over to the bar, next to his fellow chain-wielder Tristram.  "Good fight," he comments, alluding to the recently-ended match, "you did all you could."  Tilting his chin slightly in Ayesha's direction, he inquires in a low tone, "Do you think the two of us might be a worthy challenge for yon monk?"

'Ah, but to lose is to win and he who wins shall lose.' she countered with all the authority of a bar-room philosopher.

She looked up to see a familiar pale warrior. 'Lyssie!' she cried, waving. They met a few years ago in a village outside Ardeep; the adventure hadn't gone anywhere, unfortunately. It wasn't even in Realms of Adventure.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:24, Fri 05 Dec 2014.

The Sealer turns to face Ayesha, and half-bows in a formal, courteous greeting.  "Milady," he responds gravely.

He recalls a particular incident from their meeting, some years back - Ayesha had been rudely accosted by an impudent rascal wearing a helmet and a hessian sack, she averred, and a tussle had ensued.  Lyssander discovered the identity of the attacker the following morning.

With a nod the drowkin says, "It is acceptable."

From across the bar a loud voice could be heard
"Ayesha? Mia?! As I live and breath! What are two of my favorite ladies doing in a seedy place like this?" a familiar leather clad bald elf says as he walked into the tavern area from the viewing area.

Ayesha peered bleary-eyed over her mug at Adamar, almost like she didn't recognise him. 'You live and breathe? You mean you're not some kind of undead?' she wondered, then swigged her swill. 'And why wouldn't we be in a seedy place like this?' Especially since the Arena taverna was a huge, ever-changing, well-populated and appointed establishment.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Sat 06 Dec 2014.

"Hello Adamar. Nice to meet you herre." Miarisha said and waved. "With a drragon on the horrizon I figurred it would be sensible to prrractise. What brrought you to this place?" the catfolk purred.

Adamar simply smiled wide at the ever drunk monk and gave her a low bow.
"Oh, why else would I be here my sweet feline femme fatale, the roar and adulation of the crowd, and a bit of practice." the sly elf said with a warm smile.
"I just watched this poor drow sod get destroyed. Poor gent just had a bit of bad luck I think." the elf said as he sat in a chair at the ladies table ordering a bit of drink.

'Probly needs a fairer fight.' Ayesha commented. 'Lotta folks here seem to shoot their bolts and show off, overwhelm their opponents. But in the dungeon, you need to save something for other monsters, keep a little spare, or to get home on. These Arena fights are flashy, but not not how the game's played.' she complained tiredly. 'It's like sprinters versus marathon runners.' The famed founder of the Thunderstone Run could agree, and knew which she was on.

Ayesha brightened with excitement. 'Maybe we could fight a dragon?'

"Fighting a drragon will be like a sprrint, I believe, Ayesha. A mad dash to defeat him beforre he can wrrreck havoc among my frriends." Miarisha said, her green cat eyes focusing on the monk with an expression that indicated she was very worried for the safety of her human companion. "Testing our skills against such a crreaturre in the arrrena is advisable. The spirrits told me so."

"While you guys practice on the dragon, does anyone else want to take me on?"

A pale young elven lass lifted her skinny arm. If a magical duel is what you are looking for, I should be honored to heed your request, good sir." she said. Her skin was the iridiscent colour of a moonstone, her hair a bright white. Only her eyes were a stark contrast in purple colour. She rose to her feet a bit stiffly "Or if you prefer we can try the bow." she added, taking an ornately decorated longbow into her slender hands.

"Not both? I am comfortable with either fighting by proxy or by our own hands, or as commander against commander to the death...

OOC: Are you suggesting we exclusively use summons?

"Ah!  So, while the dragon fight rages, you are concomitantly convening a contrasting contest of consummate conjurers - congratulations!"  The young Wheloonite pauses his exuberant outburst, seeing skeptical eyes turned to him.  "Errr..  I guess I shall stop now.  Try and contain myself..."

Garath seems to be looking forward to watching this new match, however it develops.

Lilianne seemed to be lost in thought for a while, but for an elf it merely felt like the blink of an eye.

"I guess that would be unfair to you, as the arcane arts allow better specialization than divine casters can achieve. Chose your arena and we can measure our skills in both physical and magic ways."

The Arena, the final one listed on the thread?

Sure. Let's go :)

Garath picks up his drink and heads toward the viewing window for the Arena match-setting, anticipating an exciting and educational contest between the Elven paragon and the divinely-infused Waukeenar.  His own arcane training makes him more of a professional peer of the Elf, yet his (and his family's) mercantile background gives him reason to sympathize with the human.

He glances, in passing, at the other match-settings in current active use:  the river crossroads, where a dragon seems suspended in midair as though in treacle, and the ... other river crossroads, where some sort of giant appears to be slow-motion-scrambling across the top of a stone pillar.  The young mage silently wishes the best of luck to the adventurer contenders in both fights, but the main part of his attention is clearly on the conjurers' match.

"Would anyone care to allow me the honor of testing out my martial skill, one on one, head on?"