[center][h2][color=008B8B] Ineraz Evrenarth [/color][/h2][/center]
Ineraz’s first opponent in the Pit was a 6’9 brute of a Drakkan, who like many of their kin likely intended to rely mainly on pure brute force. The other’s armour was very light, a combination of leather and cloth, showing off what might in other circumstances be an appealing amount of bare skin and bulging, defined musculature, its dark grey colour accented with a modest amount of black war-paint. Kytho, as he had learned the other’s first name was – not that Ineraz intended to remember it after the match unless the male managed to impress him – wielded a huge two-handed battle-axe and nothing else, though he could probably swing his weapon with one hand if he was pressed to do so.

The grounds were a simple circular dirt enclosure, surrounded by a stone wall which extended upwards into an area where the many Drakken spectators could either stand or sit as they pleased (the few Gems, though they were hardly worth mentioning, would be forced to obey their masters’ whims and as such unlikely afforded the luxury of sitting down, or indeed, expressing their free will in any other significant manner). There was one exit into the underground prep room, now already closed by thick iron doors and guarded by a Drakkan ready to intervene should there be hint of an unhonourable killing about to occur. Relevant to Ineraz, there were four wooden troughs filled water, each standing close to a wall in one of the four cardinal directions. Kytho didn’t even offer a glance to those, so either water wasn’t one of his elements, or he intended to fight primarily with his weapon.

The fight started suddenly; one moment the warriors were staring at each other, Kytho seriously but with a manic gleam in his eyes, Ineraz with a grin reflecting the other male’s hidden joy openly, both having a weapon drawn. As Kytho dashed forward in his direction, Ineraz became almost unaware of the crowd’s noise, his focus narrowing to the Drakkan in front of him and the small arena around them. When Kytho was close enough that he already begun a swung that could easily deal a killing blow, Ineraz sidestepped and managed to sneak in a slash to the bulkier male’s side with his sword, creating a long but shallow gash. Kytho snorted contemptuously and lifted his axe from where it hit the ground, already making a second swing, now horizontally in Ineraz’s direction.

Ineraz managed to duck in time, but as soon as he took a step backwards and stood up, his opponent struck a hit to his right bicep with the blunt side of his axe. Although the leather armour protected him some, Ineraz still felt a momentary numbness in his right arm and his grip on the weapon loosened slightly. Almost reflexively, Ineraz threw a strong condensed gale of wind at Kytho, barely pushing the massive Drakkan a step backwards, and by the sights of it, also enraging him. Kytho snarled furiously and unleashed a flame ball unto him. Ineraz protected his head at the expense of his left arm, damaging the sleeve of his armour and leaving behind a rather painful burn. Seeing as his move proved to be effective, Kytho called on more flame smugly, but Ineraz was more than capable of thinking through his pain, and swiftly called water from the nearest trough. The opposite elements clashed, creating an area of steam, and while Ineraz could push it safely away from him and toward Kytho, his opponent apparently did not have that ability, as proven by the shrill scream he uttered as soon as he literally got a face full of hot steam.

Vindictively, Ineraz kept the steam right there at its current temperature, until Kytho dropped to his knees. In case it wasn’t yet clear to the other male, he stepped forward calmly and held his sword to the neck of his downed foe. Despite a minor injury, the victory was his. The Drakkan referee also declared it as such, stepping forward to see the state of Kytho. Showing as much nonchalance as he could while his rush of adrenaline subsided and the pain in his left forearm made itself known, Ineraz left the arena to tend to his own wound. A patch of skin on his left arm was red and blistery, but Ineraz was confident enough that it would mend easily and soon enough, especially if he applied some sort of a salve. 

In the privacy of one of the preparation rooms, he touched the burn and winced. Fortunately, pain was a good sign in this case. Ineraz frowned as he acknowledges the fact that he would also have to replace part of his armour. With a sigh, he took his dagger and carefully cut off the leather sleeve at his elbow and peeled it off his wound. Conveniently, the pit prep rooms also held several basic medicinal substances for the combatants, and Ineraz applied one to his arm, then wrapped a thin strip of cloth around the appendage. Confidently and without a seeming concern to his injury, he walked towards the spectators’ area. If the matches proceeded swiftly enough, he might have to fight again. Whether he did or not, Ineraz intended to enjoy watching how others fared.

[hider=Summary] A pit fight ensues. Ineraz wins, but suffers a (2nd degree) burn to his left forearm, which he tends and wraps in a cloth bandage. He then joins the other spectators to watch the rest of the fights.[/hider]