The Black Citadel

From the piles of armour you find your things before anyone else lays claim to them. You may also take a *helm (+1 armour), a *buckler (+1 armour) and a *plated belt (+1 armour) if you wish before you are led out to the arena. You and the other gladiators are met by howls of laughter as you enter the brightly sunlit arena. Your feet kick up a cloud of dust as you walk across the pit of the arena. In the stands is an odd assortment of humans, dark, bearded and dressed in strange foreign clothes who look like southern Swantheans. There are also orcs shoving each other for a better view and dark elves smirking at the spectacle of men below. The middle levels of the stands facing you are occupied by about a dozen figures dressed in black robes that you learned are simply called 'the dark ones', a clan of dark art magi who are both servants and protectors for Wiculoth. Hoods are pulled up over their heads so their features aren't visible.

One figure wearing a red silk robe is sitting a boxed area surrounding the dark ones. You take a good look at him. Long dark hair with wisps of grey at the temples, long pointed beard also lined with grey. He is pulling at his beard and smiling wickedly, his eyes alight with excitement at the parade below. You assume it must be Wiculoth. He is clutching a silver staff with a black globe in the head of it.

A large portcullis comes crashing shut, closing off the pillared room behind you. Harsh sounding noises are emanated from twisted looking brass horns from the citadel guards standing on either side of an equally large portcullis in front of you that leads to the central spire of the citadel. The portcullis slowly opens. Cheers and cries erupt from the stands as the opposing force is led out. The walls around you are filled with dark elvin archers, ready to shoot anyone on the elf captains command (which rules out any magic use), and around the two exits, a multitude of armoured citadel guards armed with swords and spears.

A number of orcs wearing horned helms and armed with clubs, maces and battle-axes run out first, followed by skeleton warriors armed with bows and short swords. Lastly, a giant cave troll lumbers out holding a ghastly looking giant club with rusty blades and nails embedded in the wood. The opposing army let out a tremendous roar which shakes the wooden stands, and they begin running towards you and the other gladiators. You grip your sword and shield tightly. Vandil is by your side. He looks to you and with a smirk says,

"See you soon after we've mopped up this little skirmish."

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