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Post by dogonda on Oct 7, 2006 17:14:03 GMT -5
I slowly walk out of the pit, my robes fluttering softly into the wind. The sun strikes my skin, a heavy contrast from the dank, blood smelling red room. The crowd roars, happy, eager to see a mage, a nice change from the usual barbarians. I stare at my opponent, he still has not moved. Quickly I conjure up a Dremora thrall, binding him to my will. Raising my hand quickly, a ice spell leaps from my wrist and whirls toward my enemy.
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Post by Inquisitor Loki on Oct 7, 2006 17:34:15 GMT -5
Loki watched his opponent emerge from the red room. He was dressed like royalty with extravegent robes and a fine mace at his side. This is no normal pitdog, he might actually be a challenge... or a whiney rich boy that doesn't know what he is getting into' thought Loki with glee.
A few second after stepping into the arena his opponent summons a Dremora Thrall and send a chink of ice flying from his outstretched hand. Awwww, a mage and by the looks of it he is from the guild too. This shall be very interesting, thought Loki has he jumped out of the way of the shard of ice and drew a slender ebony dagger from it sheath. Realizing that he wasn't close enough for a hand to hand fight he outstreches his left hand and shoots a small burst of pure magic at his opponent.
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Post by dogonda on Oct 7, 2006 19:03:12 GMT -5
Standing there silently, I raise my hand slightly and a invisible wall impacts it, magicka only slightly burning my robes. Smiling grimly, I begin to chant, my strength growing 10 fold, fortified by the spell. I swining my mace to the side, my thrall raising his claymore high, the crimson edge glinting.
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