The masked man did not respond right away as he seemingly turned his attention back to the throne. “What you ask is the ‘scope’? Why the prize of course! I can’t imagine such a weapon being of any interest you to one such as yourself. You don’t strike me as one stupid enough to release such a being as the Lord of Nightmares.” It was then that the great hall shuddered as the area vibrated with power. The only clear warning that the festivities were about to begin. Edbon sighed, “Well it seems things have come under way. Perhaps we shall finish this conversation another time?” The man turned to leave, his cape rustling behind him as he left eventually walking through the great doors. He suspected Faoesia and Aquilan had already began settling in. They'd be watching his and the matches of the other contestants from the safety of this pocket dimension. Gathering valuable Intel all the while. The static babble of his inbuilt comm unit alerted him to the coming call. “Tablurath can you hear me?” Came the stuttering voice of Aquilan. The man gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “Good was afraid you had already left, I doubt the quantum link will work very well across dimensions. Get a look at your opposition?” “I did, no vital signs interestingly enough. He possessed basic Aesr flow reminiscent of a machine, likely a construct of some kind. I’ll know more when I see him again. For now monitor the others fights and learn what you can.” “Will do, just be sure to come out of this in one piece otherwise I won't hear the end of it from Faoesia.” The signal disconnected leaving the former Lord Cardinal to his thoughts. The Dreamer had said too merely think of battle and you would be translated to your arena. A strange if vague way to go about things to be sure, but the Dreamers were an odd lot. He closed his eyes and focused, he could recall the last sortie he had taken while in the Empresses Legions. However, those wounds were still fresh and he found he’d rather not dwell on them. His mind thus inevitably wandered to one of the reasons he had agreed to this incongruous tournament in the first place… [Hider=Dreams of Battle] Eight Earth Years Prior…. The smell of smoke, soot, and burnt wood was heavy in the air. The rubble and clutter of debris that now made up most of the large hive city of Boevis stood as reminder of the wars fought through the oversized city. The realm of Blassemar had existed as a place of constant fighting between the various races that inhabited the planet. The coming of the Angar-Rylla had changed that almost overnight, however. The many factions that had stood in power had fared terribly when the Empire arrived with more than a few siding with their would be invaders after coming to realize their eventual victory. The realm now existed in a fragile state of on and off skirmishes, with sizable regions kept under the iron fist of the Empire. Boevis, however, had recently been lost despite Empire's best efforts. There a band of Urkia, large bipedal creatures with brutish features and vicious teeth sporting wicked tusks, held a sizable sector of the city. Subjecting the people there to their cruel mistreatments. With the Urkia on constant vigil no sizable force could be sent in to dispatch them without them merely going into hiding. It was a perfect chance to test out the Angar-Rylla’s newest weapon. The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the large complex industrial building. Uzgadan hefted his large pump action shotgun as his fellows boarded up the only entrance. The humans kept captive here in one corner were already cowering in fear. He grimaced then spat to one side. How in five hells had this happened? The province had been easy pickings, his clan knew the dangers of course, but as long as they kept an eye out for Ryallin portals they should have been able to avoid any interference from the Empire. Somehow despite their caution they had come under attack, and no one had even seen the enemy coming! It had to be a small team the clan warlord decided. Maybe no more than ten or twelve skilled individuals. As the remainder of his war clan backed away from the door the sounds of gunfire outside died down and the air became eerily quiet. One urika got spooked when he knocked over a can and unleased nearly a full clip at mere shadows before he calmed. The poorly lit storage room held several drum barrels and crates, and little else in the way of cover. Still with more than eight guns aimed at the entrance they’d make quite a last stand using the door as the prefect choke-point. None of the brutes noticed the dark figure moving quickly but silently among the rafters. No one saw that same figure land on a larger container only a few feet behind their rear most sentry. In a flash of movement the head of the Urkia rolled past Uzgadan’s feet to the center of the group. They’re eyes bulged in shock almost comically before they whirled around almost as one and fired a barrage of lead in the direction of the shadowy figure. Sparks sang out as the rounds seemed to veer away and around the figure. In another instant a blade sprouted from the chest of one of Uzgadan’s enforcers a few feet behind him. He stumbled back as he gurgled and coughed blood before he fell to his knees. The figure ran forward in a blur of motion than sharply to the right, avoiding a molotov cocktail thrown by one of Uzgadan’s subordinates. Another urika was cut down, his arm hewn from his body with a single swing, before the figure dropped low and then spun as he kicked out the legs of another urika before bisecting him in mid-air. The man moved too fast for any of them to have the hope of landing a blow on him. Weaving a dance of deadly steel through the ranks of Urkia as if it was nothing. Uzgadan had been warlord of his clan for more than ten years, a significant amount of time in their violent culture. Yet he had never seen such skill or ferocity-- for the first time in his life he knew fear. He immediately broke for the slave pen deciding on one last desperate attempt to stave off defeat. As the last Urika fell to the ground in a bloody heap Uzgadan pulled forth one of the humans, a young girl by the looks of it, and pushed her in front of him hoping to use her as a human shield. “Argh’t you! Don’t move Or I’l-” The Urkia never got a chance to finish his threat, dark blood spraying forth from his throat as his now ruined shotgun fell from his dying hands. Blood fell upon the small girl who remained mute with apparent fright as she watched her once captive choke on his one blood. The man responsible already sheathing his sword. “Did you really think a little girl would protect you from me?” He looked down at the dying Urika with contempt. “So naive.” [/hider]