James "The Gatling" Buchanan enters, quieter than any mouse. He has pale skin and deep blue eyes. They kind of eyes you could get lost in. Don't be fooled, you really can get lost and lose your way. He has short unkempt hair and stands nearly six feet tall. He has a smirk that can irritate almost any being.

The pale skin and thin features make him look rather weak. And maybe he truly is, or is bluffing really well. He seems quite fond of the gear he wears. Very nice armor(metallic), gloves and cloak.

He can't remember the reason for coming, just that he is supposed to be here. "I'm Gatling, who would like to dance?" His smirk escaping for all to see.

Terranus enters the Labyrinth.  He looks like a middle-aged humanoid with golden hair and no visible weapons or armor.  His skin looks wrinkled and he has a smell about him.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:28, Mon 19 May 2014.

A young Goliath enters the labyrinth. He is outfitted in full plate armor, with a light shield. At his hips are both wands and potions. Carrying ogre-sized weapons such as a greatsword, a guisarme, and a composite longbow, he looks over the milling combatants. A wide smile plants itself on his face as he says Antaeus craves a challenge, and I was told I would find my fill here.

A new, slimmer, Gar enters the arena with a greatsword swung across his shoulder.  Even as a smaller minotuar, he appears much more muscle-bound than before.  He walks off with a bit more confidence than before.

A half-giant walks to the edge of the arena.
He looks about, sizing up his opponents and smiling.
He would have fun in these games. Oh how he loved to fight.

He wears no armor, no shield, he doesn't need such things. There is an almost invisible patch over one of his eyes.
A number of Large weapons hang from his body... a dagger, some javelins, a heavy crossbow, and a greatsword.
From a small sack attached to his belt a muffled clinking can be heard... probably potions.

Just as quickly as he walked in, Gar's corpse is dragged out unceremoniously on a rough litter, apparently unable to be revived after his match with Earl.

A sizeable, wild-looking humanoid walks in dragging a large greatsword.  He sniffs about before letting loose a howl that echoes through the Labyrinth.

Melvin is a small creature, a dromite. They are known for their charisma and their scent ability. Melvin, however, looks of average charisma – nothing special at all. He wears no armor, no shield, and carries no weapons. Physically he looks like he could be squashed very easily.

He wears a headband, a nearly invisible patch over his eye, a cloak, and has a sack secured to his back. There is also an orange stone that circles around his head.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:05, Sun 18 Jan 2015.

Nivian, a veteran gladiator, arrives once again in the Colosseum, entering slowly and willfully.  He has the smell of the Astral Sea on him, and has traded his youth for a more wizened outlook on the universe.  Sporting a very short, trimmed beard, graying temples, and the illustrious, hooded robes of the Priests of Nerull, Nivian makes his way to the pub to sit quietly and analyze the new and familiar faces alike.

In his eyes you can see a colder, more calculating evil than he brandished in the past, and there was something else - something that a cleric of Nerull would be expected to have - yes, this Nivian has seen death, and he has returned to spread it's treachery and wonder.

Under his indigo robes, you can make out a darkly colored, spiked breastplate, perhaps made of mithral.  His scythe is lost, instead he wields a glowing crossbow with a large bayonet.

A petite looking woman walks into the Colosseum, bearing no visible armor or weapons, unlike most of the other challengers. Instead, she bears a pouch full of material components and black cloak.

Nova is a fiery haired woman who wears a long white skirt, black shift, and a silver symbol of Kord. Appearing neither strong nor durable, she seems to be agile enough. She rubbed ehr hands together "Time to meet the contenders"

An elderly elf entered the arena. Though dressed like a drill sargent or general, Ms. Whelk was seemingly frail, holding herself up with the haft of her staff. It seemed one of the only reasons she stood tall, other than generations of discipline, was the chainmail corset that seemed to force the position upon her. With a spell component pouch at her side, a skull tipped rod looped in her belt, and a small animal hiding beneath her cloak, the woman still had an air of authority and magical power about her despite her infirmity and age.

"Let me do my part to whip this rabble of would be gladiators into shape..."

A large man, full in stature enters the Labyrinth, wolf at his side. He lets out a hearty laugh as he surveys the field of combatants. His cloak is worn and dark, and it has clearly seen many years of use. On his back he wears a Ulyssean bow and at each side, a straight sword. He appears to be in his mid-30's, with shoulder length, graying brown hair and bright green eyes, somewhat dulled to gray.

"Well, Bella, we'll have to see what manner of fighters this group is. Perhaps we'll be able to teach them a thing or two about combat!"

A short, shaved head, dark skinned man enters the labyrinth. He is dressed in simple, tight fitting robes. His eyes are wrinkled into a permanent smile.

Bonjour, les soldats! If any of you tink you can take on da mighty Achilles Pellerin, come on an' try your hand. I will give you da honor of a quick deat'

The figure meandering into the labyrinth, or if one were less inclined to use such words as meandering, shambling is an equally apt descriptor, was certainly a sight to see. His flesh was practically rotting off of his muscle and bones, seemingly held together by the very clothes on his back, or more accurately dark necromantic forces beyond the comprehension of most silly mortals, and yet his movements were very human, such as a slight swagger to his plodding steps, and his incessant winking at anything remotely feminine. Or at least, he seems to be winking. It's rather difficult to tell seeing as his eyelids appear to have been left outside the door. As he wanders through the increasingly disturbed gladiators, he appears to shout something, though his words are slightly obscured by the horrible rasping noise he makes as he forces air through his now significantly less airtight throat.

"Suck it fleshbags, Johnny Slim is back on the prowl!"

In reply to Johnny Slim (msg # 262):

As Johnny Slim moves by, a little dromite watches him in disgust.

"Absolutely detestable, it will be good when you are really dead."

In reply to Melvin (msg # 263):

Upon hearing the diminutive dromite's voice, Slim abruptly turns around to face him with a sneer. "Well, La Cucaracha, I can assure you that I am well and truly dead. Someone already beat you to the punch. But, if you wish, you are free to attempt to end me once and for all." He tilts his head inquisitively, in a way that would almost certainly have broken his neck were he still alive. "I can't imagine you'll be particularly filling, but I'll take what I can get. Unless you're too much of a coward to back up those words, little roach." He bows mockingly in the direction of Melvin.

Jazal reals in disgust at the sight of the undead that is Johnny Slim. "Vile creature! You shall be destroyed this day! By the power of Bahamut vested in me, you shall be vanquished by my hand!"

Ilithyia Whelk re-entered the arena from her most recent loss dressed in full military garb and looking ready for her own funeral. She seemed as at peace as a statue though she moved gracefully, looking almost healthier than before save for the loss of color in her skin and hair and her seeming lack of breath.

Riven strides into the labyrinth, her short legs taking her far farther than her diminutive figure would suggest. She has a generally pleasant face, but her eyes hold strange depths within them, seeming almost otherworldly. On her back is a massive sword, seemly mismatched with the rest of her demeanor and vibrating with strange energies. With a spring in her step, she begins scanning the competition to see who she wishes to fight.

Errol re enters the labyrinth ((Wait, when did he leave?)), this time wielding a spear, looking somewhat... feral?

Thorn Fury re-enters the arena...

Still in his large black robe, he seems stronger and bigger than he was before.

Slowly walking like a snake in the crowd of gladiators, he wears a white
mask with strange complex reptile-like signs apparently wrote with blood.

He doesn't talk to anyone but seems to watch everybody with intrigued eyes. The only thing we can hear is a nasty whistle behind his strange mask.

Holding a glowing falchion, a guisarm and composite bow ins his back, he seems to be a dangerous opponent.

Gideon enters the labyrinth at a moderate, deliberate pace. His fullplate armor is well maintained and polished, though it still shows signs of use. At one side of his waist rests a longsword. Latched to the other side are a few potions within easy reach. His heavy steel shield is slung across his back when not in use. For a moment, he simply stood there and casually observed the others and their interactions with one another.

A strange dwarf prowled into the arena. Draped in monster furs, eyes shining with intelligence. A dwarf surviving against all odds...

Hawkflight had little more than a walking stick, satchel, and stones.

In a burst of light, the gates of the labyrinth open. From this light steps a rather luminescent being whith a bow in one hand and a falchion at it's back. It's head floats a few inches above its body and it is clad in simple robes.

It's speaks with the voice of a woman, though it's form is neutral and bears no indication weather it is male or female.

"I am Soluna Syzygy and I come to this world to bring both light and darkness. Those who would deny the cycle of light and dark, deny the very cycle of of reality itself."