Olmar leans forward on the railing leisurely and watches the championship fight with lazy eyes.  Not all that impressed with what he was seeing he nevertheless had to grudgingly admit that the fighters were following through on their chosen tactics very well,  he himself would probably have trouble locating Sondirra and Eibon,  Sondirras sniping might get problematic as well as Eibon's flurry with the bow.  He might be evenly matched with Arkwright though,  might.

Seeing Eibon and Sondirra struck by fairy fire brings a grin to his face,  things should get interesting soon,  and maybe he'd get his chance at one of them soon as well,  the thought brought a warm glow into his gut,  Olmar enjoyed fighting.

The crowd roars as a new champion is born on the battlefield. Eibon, the archer, now stands as the reigning champ.

Olmar enters the stands,  tired from the last fight he decides to sit one out and watch.

From the ceiling, a portal opens and a small brass and steel servitor flies down to a position about 4 feet above a stone table.  It shutters for a second and then an illusory image of an old battle hardened dwarf drapes over it.

"Match 49 is complete.  With a devastating blow, Seresia the Merfolk Summoner has defeated Lok-Nare, the Half-Orc Sorceror!   Who shall test this Merfolk new–comer and who will give the Half-Orc the chance to regain his honor?"

The image fades, revealing the servitor once again.  It quietly flies back through its portal which quickly snaps shut.

The announcement servitor once again flies down to its pedestal.  The illusory dwarf reforms:

"Match 56 is complete.  Olmar Magna once again defeats his foe.  With three wins, one draw, and absolutely no losses; who will challenge the arena's now highest ranked gladiator?  Who will be the one to make him taste the bitterness of defeat?"

The image fades, revealing the servitor once again.  It quietly flies back through its portal which quickly snaps shut.

Match #59
The crowd roars with laughter as a newcomer is escorted out of the arena by a trio of arena wardens. Disqualified, disgraced, thus is the fate of any gladiator foolish enough to violate the rules of the arena. Harmur is declared winner by default and shoveled out of the arena without any glorious trumpets or achievements, but still getting her payment in full. The arena is not always at its most glorious these days.

Match #60

The crowd was excited to see newcomers, and for good reason. Cheers rang out for the archer, while at the same time boos did as well. The crowd was still looking for a hero in the crowd to shine out above the rest, but loving the bloody glory on the field...

Meanwhile, the benches remain full of the broken and the soon-to-be broken anxiously waiting their turn in the arena with only a few metal bars and the arena force shield between them and the action...

Match #58

The crowd begins to jeer and boo as those with bets riding on the match become increasingly agitated. Trying to break the opponent's concentration by yelling, many in the audience are even asked to return to their seats by passing guards as Baldemar and Olmar's battle drags on. It appears the two opponents are so evenly matched that it has come down to a game of tag.

Match #58

The announcer presents itself and calls the latest match, "Match 58 is complete.  In a record breaking long match, Baldemar answers the call and provides Olmar Magna a sampling of the bitter taste that is defeat."

The crowds roar and cheer as the 70th duel goes underway.

Surrounding the arena is a huge circle of benches where spectators watch and cheer on the gladiators. Above them rise special VIP towers where nobles, government officials and even royalty and high ranking clergy can spectate the arena. Cheering, heckling and jeering echo from their seats and many stand up and roar when the battles are particularly glorious.

Beneath the spectator stands, other gladiators await in the dungeons and training areas able to watch the fights through barred windows. Talk of the upcoming fights and records goes around, many gladiators eager to claim the championship for their own and some conspiring with others for their own gain. Few are aware of the politics behind the arena, but they exist and the wardens and guards of the arena are all to well aware of these things...

OOC: This is a roleplaying thread where players can roleplay their characters watching arena matches as they unfold. You can even respond to things actually going on in match threads by moving between different arenas on different sidelines. Many dungeons and training areas allow multiple arenas to be viewed at once. The Colosseum itself is a large network of smaller arenas all arranged in circles surrounding one grand circle (which is usually reserved for training year round until the annual championship games).
This message was last updated by the GM at 05:14, Sat 25 May 2013.

Latro practically swings one of the doors off it's hinges as he barges into the spectator area. As he walks he passes through the area where spectators watched his match against Joran. His blood still on the ground from where he had been cut down. Apparently the cleaning crew hadn't bothered to start cleaning up yet. He curses under his breath in his native tongue and moves onward. He'd have his revenge against this Joran fellow one day. For now, he wanted to see what this whole survival thing was about. Pushing through the crowds and nearing the edge of the sidelines, he sees the combatants locked in combat with a group of mages of some kind. Latro wasn't exactly sure what they were, nor did he really care. At this point, he needed to study each of the combatants in the arena and find their weak points if he was to achieve victory - no - dominion over this... arena.

He was not expecting surface walkers to put up such a fight against these mages which only solidified in his mind that these mages were week and not of drow standards. Then again... neither was he. He needed to gain dominance over everyone in this arena at all costs. Whatever the cost. Then they would see that he was worthy to be called Drow.

Latro pushes away from the sidelines having enough of this petty squabble between mages and swords, scowling at people who get in his way and threatening others with a menacing glare if they mock him.

The front door swings open silently, and a stocky dwarf glides in. He is wearing tightly wrapped robes and his face is covered by a carved wooden mask. He signals the barkeep for two ales without speaking, pays, and then carries them to an open table in the middle of the room. He sets one mug at an empty chair, then goes and sits down on the opposite side of the table.

He sits, not drinking, not speaking.

It almost seems as if he's waiting for someone to join him - a challenger perhaps?

Along the walls of the spectator stands lay scattered kiosks selling food and drink. Many have tables and chairs set up around them like bars where people can watch the arena fights and get a drink a safe distance from the action.

Seeing Latro burst by, the bartender quickly grabbed his bar to hold it steady and ensure no drinks fell over.

The ongoing survival mission between the new archer, Calithros and his fellow gladiators was raging on. Special magic allows viewers to see through walls, fog and darkness, though the people and creatures inside the arena were still fighting for their lives in the midst of it.

The barkeep notices Hiro as he cleans a mug with a rag.

"So, what do ya think of this archer, Calithros, eh? I hear he's an "up and coming" celebrity gladiator. Some folks say he'll be the next champion. My money was on that magus, Olmar but after that fight with the Dark One, I'm not so sure. Wonder if the archer and magus will have a bout? That'd be something to see wouldn't it?"

Rumor spread about a face off between Calithros and Olmar while others insisted Olmar would come back for a rematch with the Dark One and still more were placing bets on one of the two biting the dust before they ever got the chance...

It's been months since the arena saw the brutal fight between the drowish anti-paladin, Latro Dectus, and the dwarven monk, Hiro, that shocked the crowd to a razor's edge. Shamed, the armored anti-paladin had vanished after his defeat. Hiro has remained the reigning champion and wrestled minor demons and sharks and other gladiators.

Two barbarian orcs, Ugrim and Drunghar tore the arena apart with their vicious strength, but have yet to make an attempt at the championship.

Hiro and the up and coming gladiator, Skeex, a ratfolk alchemist fought as well and with the powerful alchemist's defeat, one can only wonder if he scurried off to the same dark corner as Latro Dectus.

After witnessing battles with both angels and demons in the ring, the audience is hard-pressed to find more interesting matches.

The arenas have been improved and remodeled and the stakes have grown higher.

Everyone eagerly awaits to see what the gladiators will do next...

A robed traveler enters the stands.  Over the next few days, he watches a great many fights, always remaining quiet, save for a few mutterings under his breath, which turn darker over the next few days, making those around him uncomfortable. Finally the robed figure can bide no more. He stands up, and throws back his hood.

"YOU CALL THAT A FIGHT, YOU WORTHLESS EXCUSE FOR A CHAMPION?"

He draws in a huge breath then continues shouting

"ALL I SEE IS THE WEAK BULLYING THE WEAKER. COUNT YOURSELF FORTUNATE THAT I, BALDEMAR, DEFEATER OF THE UNDEFEATED, HAVE BEEN ABSENT FOR SO LONG, FOR IT IS THE ONLY REASON THAT YOU NOW POSSESS THAT BELT. FIGHT ME, AND I SHALL RELINQUISH IT FROM YOUR UNMOVING BODY!"

As Baldemar shouts his lungs off, a man clad in the dark armors of Lolth passes by him. "If you want the belt, you'll be going through me first. I have a score to settle with that dwarf and i'll not let anyone kill him before i do. Come between me and my prize and you'll find my blade betwixt your head and shoulders."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:58, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Baldemar turns.

"Then I shall deal with you." He replies quietly. "...At the proper time."

Baldemar pulls up his hood, and leaves the sidelines, in search of an evening's entertainment. He had announced his return.

The brash display in the stands had not gone unnoticed by Hiro, even as he beat the young sorceress into unconsciousness. Things were getting very interesting indeed.

Picking up the limp body of his opponent, he carried her to the healer's tent before returning to his own to prepare.

The crowd cheered as a spellcaster was pummeled unconscious by the ever-victorious champion. They grew silent as Baldemar and Latro announced their grand return to the Arena and immediately whispers and rumors began spreading through the audience as the warriors each walked their separate ways to prepare. Bets were being made and the whole arena was abuzz. Soon the storm would come...

---

Now, Latro and Baldemar face off, each eager to challenge the reigning champion for the championship belt and the prestige that comes with it, but even more eager for blood...

Rasputina and Abram face off, eager to bounce back in the game...

Ugrim and Hiro have a friendly spar...or viciously pummel each other in the name of sparring anyway...

---

OOC: Yeah, you guys pretty much are full of badassery right now.

Sheathing his weapon Latro wipes the blood spatter from his face and flicks it to the ground. "Hardly worth my time."
He turns and exits as the arena clerics go about reviving the monk back to his former self. He looks to the stands and points to the waiting area. "Do you see my new power Hiro? Soon, you too will be nothing more than a bloodstain on my scythe. Make yourself comfortable while you can, for once I have returned to my former glory, not even you will be able to stop me." He laughs a diabolical laugh and disappears from the arena in a wave of evil magic.

OOC: cast my second prepared invisibility cause i had a second one prepared in my match with Baldemar. :P

The crowd grows quiet as everyone watches opponents vanish. Many richer spectators pay additional fees to see through the invisibility though it does little good to the untrained eye.

Bets are traded with only whispers as the fight drags on.

---

Meanwhile, in the sidelines and dungeons far below the arena, the other gladiators clamor and prepare for future duels. Many are wary to give Hiro, Bablam and Olmar wide berth while many more still eye them dangerously with jealous and murderous eyes...
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:38, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Balbam watched the matches, apparently bored by everything that was happening. Until Hiro and Latro stepped into the arena facing a huge dragon. The gnome's eyes lit up (almost literally) as he jumped up and clapped his hands. "Oh! I do hope it's the fire breathing kind!" he exclaimed and held his own breath in anticipation.

The crowds all wince as Hiro and Latro are both torn to shreds. Clearly, even the champions of the arena could not best a dragon. The great beast huffed and left, insulted by even wasting its time. Dragons always were the melodramatic types.

Soon afterwards, the short bout of two monks would seem minuscule, until one forfeits mysteriously before anything even got started.

Meanwhile, the cat-and-mouse game between the goblin and the ratfolk rages on.

Suddenly, during intermission, an arena administrator announcing in a great booming voice that a new guild has joined the arena. The School of the Voiceless Dragon will be holding auditions for membership soon.

Several runners move throughout the arena, distributing flyers. They read:

The School of the Voiceless Dragon is now accepting new students. Master Hiro will train and guide any who wish to learn the physical arts of combat. Fist or Foot, Bow or Blade, any who fight with honor and dignity may join. Members must be able to prove their martial prowess and show they do not rely on magic.

Those who wish to join must either best a current guild member or another applicant in the ring. Applicants should seek an audience with Master Hiro to arrange a membership match.

Guild fees shall be set at ten percent of any winnings in the arena.