Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Aug 29, 2015 9:34:27 GMT -8
Who: Cathaoir Ordo vs. Faust Skirata
Rules: No armor, no force, no ranged weapons
Where: A dull wind blows the sand in waves across the arena floor as the crowd stamps it's feet in impatience to see this match. Normal people taking time out of their day to watch as two men fight and die for their pleasure. There was intensity in the air, an electric feeling of surging bloodlust running through the audience turned mob. The Durasteel walls stand high and strong with Togorian Headhunters standing atop them, more to prevent rioting than to keep cowardly fighters within the arena. Spreading inward from the walls the sands are riddled with rocks of all sizes and shapes, potential weapons or hiding places for some. And in the center sits the emblem of the Xendorian Guard, polished and smooth, visible from any corner of the arena. At either end of the arena doors open to elevators which lead below to the armory and storage area for the arena. Standing out from the seats the judges dias looks down upon the field, obscured in shadow but lurking figures sit in waiting, holding the lives of the competitors in the palm of their hands. This was a place of blood and combat, a place where fate was tested by those who dare to challenge it. This was the Airéine na Comhrac Dorchadas.
Rules: No armor, no force, no ranged weapons
Where: A dull wind blows the sand in waves across the arena floor as the crowd stamps it's feet in impatience to see this match. Normal people taking time out of their day to watch as two men fight and die for their pleasure. There was intensity in the air, an electric feeling of surging bloodlust running through the audience turned mob. The Durasteel walls stand high and strong with Togorian Headhunters standing atop them, more to prevent rioting than to keep cowardly fighters within the arena. Spreading inward from the walls the sands are riddled with rocks of all sizes and shapes, potential weapons or hiding places for some. And in the center sits the emblem of the Xendorian Guard, polished and smooth, visible from any corner of the arena. At either end of the arena doors open to elevators which lead below to the armory and storage area for the arena. Standing out from the seats the judges dias looks down upon the field, obscured in shadow but lurking figures sit in waiting, holding the lives of the competitors in the palm of their hands. This was a place of blood and combat, a place where fate was tested by those who dare to challenge it. This was the Airéine na Comhrac Dorchadas.
