New blood steps into The Labyrinth.

The individual appears to be slightly haunched and is robbed in dark tattered robes with the cowl of his cloak pulled up, hiding his face.
The rest of his form is also concealed, gloves, boots and all.
He seems to carry no items, pouches or weapons on his person.

Into the Labyrinth walks Illfirin, a confident tall standing human male, wearing Leather armor and having not much more than a Rapier and two daggers strapped to his sides.

After leaving the Labyrinth and the arenas for a couple of days, Solitude returns. He looks much the same as he did before, old and haunched over.

A small, hooded figure enters the Labyrinth, hissing slightly under its breath.

Salil enters the Labyrith.  He wears simple robes, and is armed only with a set of three daggers.  A wolf is by his side.

As the Labyrinth doors open, a smallish minotaur is silhouetted by the bright sunlight outside.  Only slightly larger than an man, were it not for the great horns on his head, and then unmistakable sound of hooves as he walks, one wouldn't know him from any other creature.
With the closing of the outer doors, you can see that this beast is dressed in a patchwork outfit made of the hides and furs of many creatures.  Some even appear to be woven into and around his chain shirt.  At his sides, are an assortment of axes of many different sizes.
He sniffs and snorts as he passes you, likely either trying to memorize your scent, or unnerve you.  He slowly and purposefully makes his way to an unoccupied piece of wall, where he proceeds to study everyone from afar.

As the newest combatant enters the Labyrinth, he calls out, "Byron!  Byron!  I know you're in here somewhere!  I've got it on good authority that you've come here to prove yourself, so get your stumpy legs out here and start introducing me.  Oh, and that lich came back...with vampires.  Everyone else was killed, and one of the most beautiful women I've ever met sucked most of the life out of me, but I managed to get away.  So...now I'm here to fight...I guess."
His voice carries over the ever present background sounds of the Labyrinth and is easily heard by everyone.  As heads turn to look at the loud new arrival, you can see that it seems to be nothing more than a fine looking man in fine looking clothes.  Beneath his good traveling clothes, one can see the glint of a mithril shirt.  He has a shortbow and quiver slung over his shoulders and a whip coiled at his side with what appears to be a small blade attached to the end of it.
Not seeing his supposed acquaintance appear, he walks to the center of the largest open area he can find and, with a flourish, introduces himself, "Greetings, my fair combatants.  I am Andrew Fosher, former Herald of the, now deceased, great Elven Lord Aurellian.  I have traveled many worlds on his behalf and, now, have come to essentially re-start my life here, with you folk, and see where this new journey takes me."
As he is looking everyone over, he spies the door to the tavern, "Ah, a tavern.  I bet Byron is in there.  Good day, all.  Until we meet on the field of battle!"

A painfully average looking commoner walks into the Labyrinth, looking greatly out of place. H scans the room and then walks over to a wall and leans, watching everyone else mill about. If anyone cares to notice, his eyes are dead, like that of someone who has lost reason to live in this world.

With a cacophony of clanking and grinding of metal plates, a dark-haired armor-clad dwarf barrels into the Labrinth. He pauses, looks around for a moment, and then noisily makes his way to the bar.

"A pint of yer finest swill, an' make it snappy; I've got the blood-work t' be done, an' me axe'll only come free af'er the lick o' the hop!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Mon 19 Sept 2011.

A cloaked halfling enter the arena followed by an armored skeleton.
'' Skinny my friend, this is where our legend begin'' he says to his unresponding bodyguard.

He is carrying scrolls and a wand and his undead wears a chain shirt, some javelins on his back, a scimitar by his side and carry an heavy wooden shield.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Fri 30 Sept 2011.

A large half-orc clad simply in spiked fullplate walks into the Labyrinth. He walks with a grace that seems out of place for one of his people, especially one clad in such bulky armor. His feet barely leave the ground as he walks. He looks around and takes in his surroundings.

A dirty plain clothed man slinks about the Labyrinth. Were it not for the crossbow, spear, and mace, he would seem entirely out of place. Though not an arcanist from the look of him, something seems off in his movements. Upon closer inspection, the shadows surrounding him seem to move as if detached from his form. The folds of his clothing and the silhouette cast on the ground appear to not be a proper reflection of this combatant.

A halfling walks in, short even for one of them. Youngish, yet white-haired, he wears very little armour and carries no noticeable weapon but the glow of arcane fire in his eyes suggests that his powers extend for more than the physical side. Eyes glowing with burning purple flame he looks about, fingers flexing again and again in preparation for some arcane ritual.

A black clad elf enter the arena. Silently, he goes stands in a corner. You can see his longbow and longsword, but what is he really ?

An Elven Beauty Steps forward from the shadows. It was almost as if she had been here all along. It was now her time to strike this was made apparent by her majestic walk forwards full of the confidence of the ages.

A human woman staggers in, clad in little but the tatters of what might have once been a dress. Her skin is pale and grey, her eyes empty, hungry pits. Crouching just within sight, she sniffs the air, before letting a long black tongue roam over jagged, sharp teeth and dead, bloodless lips.

An average looking human walks in to the labyrinth. With almost black hair and green eyes and a sly smirk. Dressed in plain clothes and appears to be wearing only a chain shirt with a Darkwood shield and dagger for protection. Even with being scantily armored he carries himself with a determination that says hes more that what he appears.

A tall elf walks in, with an obvious shield on his back and a sword on his waist. He has hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and a rather skinny body, but with a bit of muscle. He is armoured in what appears to be slightly big. He looks around in confidence, with a small smile on his face.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:46, Fri 07 Oct 2011.

A man walks in he wears what can only be described as stitched together rags.  He holds no weapons, wears no armor and seems to possess nothing save for the clothes on his back and mended boots upon his feet.  He walks to the counter and takes a copper from within a pocket and purchases something meeger to eat and water to drink.

After he has sated his hunger and slicked his thirst he turns to the room surveying it carefully.

Brist walks briskly into the Labyrinth, his chain wrapped around him like a belt. He was ready and would be the best, no warrior nor mage will stop him. He was not weak and he would prove it to all. Without hesitating he moved toward the battle postings and began to read.

A small halfling skips into the room, humming tunelessly (really tunelessly). She?/He?/It? wears an unremarkable tunic with a well-made chain shirt overlaying it, and its facial features are mostly unreadable due to the fact that a bat appears to be attached to its forehead. He? stops humming and crosses his? eyes to look at the bat. "Who's my pretty butterfly? You are, ja!" he? croons as he? pets said bat. Resuming its skipping, it gleefully walks over to the board to search the list of gladiators, somehow seeming to comprehend the writing even through the bat. "What's that fluffykins? Okay." and it skips out.

A tall human with long black hair and dark smooth skin walks in with a scowl on his face.  His eyes are piercing and he exudes confidence as he walks through the room.  On his right arm he wears a long leather gauntlet that comes up his arm past his elbow and his left arm is covered in tattoos with these words intertwined into the pattern: "Death is only the Beginning".  He sits down at a table, his chin resting in his scarred hands.  He wears a black vest, black tights and kneel high leather boots.  He puts his longbow, his longsword and the rest of his stuff next to him and yells across the room for some food and something to drink.  His eyes are dark brown, almost black.  As he waits he begins to shave with a small knife, leaving his face with a close shave.  As he shaves he begins to recite words from memory in a slow but steady voice.  He spoke as if to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear: "Praise the day at nightfall, a woman when she's dead, a sword proven, a maiden married, ice you've crossed, ale you've drunk.  Cut trees when the wind blows, sail in fair weather; talk with maidens in the dark- the day has many eyes.  Ask speed of a ship, protection from a shield, keenness from a sword, from a maiden kisses."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Tue 01 Nov 2011.

A figure draped in dark red robes enters the labyrinth, short and reptilian in appearance, with red eyes and russet scales, easily identified as a kobold.  He doesn't have much in the way of weapons, but he likely doesn't feel the need for any, considering the very thick tomb he carries in one arm, which he rarely ever takes his gaze away from as he moves through the crowd.

An elf, crossbow slung across her shoulder walks into the labyrinth her eyes scan those gathered before she anounces herself.  "I am River.  Who will join me in the search for perfection through combat?"

OOC: Open challenge to all takers CR 3 or less.

A black metal monolith strides in and peers around.