[center][color=goldenrod][h2]Terilu[/h2][/color][/center]

Terilu gazes down his long snout at the people of the street, these Dinnin, who are staring right back up at him. The sight of him makes faces upturn and eyes widen, people not knowing how to reconcile his strange appearance with the normal range of their experiences. How often do you see a bat-boy? There's a poor old man who looks up at the bat with so much shock, his mouth all rounded like a yawn, that he doesn't even notice his turban slipping back. Terilu laughs at him. This scene is not at all unfamiliar: Terilu is often high over others, and he usually does inspire shock in those who don't have the pleasure of meeting Eratie as part of their drear daily routines (whatever those routines are, Terilu has no interest in them), but what's fun about this instance is that he's also inspiring shock because he's riding on top of a giant. That's a new one.

Galaxor turns his head slightly to him. His bat passenger is grateful that motion doesn't knock him off of the shoulder-ride. The giant asks: "[color=gold]Apologies, little one, but I never caught your name and…what are you again? Not human or dwarf, I think. Unless you people do come in different varieties besides being small.[/color]" Some of the onlooker's brows crease in an even deeper confusion. Not only is there an Eratie riding on a giant, they wonder, but the giant doesn't even [i]know[/i] the creature? Terilu laughs at that, too. In normal circumstances the whole question would irritate him. The Eratie are a great race. All should know of them. But this scene is so comical, he doesn't have enough edge in him to care just now. 

He pats the giant on the back- an interesting action, when his back is under you- and says "[color=goldenrod]What am I? Oh, my oversized friend, what a giant-like question to ask. I'm Terilu, Ascendant of the Third Caste and Called by the Reaching Hand, in Form of Baítudatu-Thumilie, of New Dawnlit. That's my full name. But you can call me Terilu. Just [i]don't[/i] call me Terry, a human did that once and I was obligated by my honor as an Eratie to turn him into a skeleton.[/color]" The giant's footsteps were so efficient, they were already approaching the arena. When they reached a point where the buildings seemed to clear out a little, one could just see the outline of an amphitheater on the horizon, thronged with souls hungry to see blood. They weren't the only ones. Ivraan had joined the party, too, occasionally dodging off to the side to buy some street-vendor food that was probably disgusting. "[color=goldenrod]That bit about turning a human into a skeleton was a joke,[/color]" admitted Terilu, forced into honesty about it in case either the giant or the elf-human-whatever had recently tuned up their moral compasses.

An Ainok picks this time to walk through the crowd far below. Terilu points him out. "[color=goldenrod]Anyway, see, that is what I'm like. An Eratie is a beastrace. We're...[/color]" How does one explain this in a way that it could be understood even by a barbarian who doesn't know what sand is? Terilu, struggling to sift through the theology and anatomy and history of it all for the easiest to swallow explanation, at last says, "[color=goldenrod]It's like we're part human and part bat, Galaxor. We were created by a goddess long ago- Ad'Itie, my goddess. She lured humans and elves into a cave, she fused their bodies with the cave-bats, she gave them fresh souls and taught them her ways through a mystical dance. That's when they became the first Eratie. Every kind of bat-man creature like me descends down from them. So the story goes.[/color]"

The amphitheater was close now. It was a huge, open-air circle of stone, lined up with seats where paying spectators could watch their brutal show. They'd be safe up there. Down in the center is where blood would wet the sand. The opening attraction: a fight between a gladiator, and a hungry lion prodded by cruel handlers into a blood rage. Terilu was looking forward to that. But is wasn't the only thing.

"[color=goldenrod]Hey, Galaxor, Ivraan[/color]" says Terilu, "[color=goldenrod]look there-[/color]" he points with furry finger where, hardly five steps to the side of the grand entrance, between all the vendors selling their exotic food and souvenirs (who doesn't wish to remember the time they saw a man eaten live by a lion?), there was a sign-up for people who wanted to join the show themselves. Non-lethal fights, you get a chain necklace to show you're a contestant. "[color=goldenrod]I am not going to do it, but I suspect one of you will?[/color]"