Out Of The Frying Pan
The world bent into itself as time and space was momentarily disrupted. In a flash of ethereal light a humanoid masked figure remained, a dark cloak draped about its body, standing atop a large stone. Tablurath took in his new alien surroundings with a slow 360 degree turn. Taking in every detail of this new and bizarre battlefield. He noticed immediately that this place was indeed different, as a shifting wave of power seemed to resonate in this place. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end-- proof enough of some strange magic at work here. His cape opened up as he raised his arms before him. Looking over his arms carefully as if studying them for some change.
Tablurath at this point had only a little fear of the transportation through time and space would affect him negatively. Only a madman would feel absolutely assured of coming out unscathed when another eldritch being was throwing you through different dimensions. He was not really looking for any evidence of such changes, but instead taking note of the strange threads of violet energy that had attached themselves to his form. He cast his gaze about the strange tunnel once more, feeling remarkably calm.
He neither looked forward to his match nor dreaded it. He could not quite put a finger on the feeling, but he at least hoped his new opponent would be more interesting than the last. He gripped a sword, Mercy, and pulled it free from its sheath. The cold metal hardly making more than a whisper as it was brought into the light. There was no much else to do, but wait for his opponent. He closed his eyes for a moment as he thought of the reasons that had brought him at least this far. So much rode on this, more than Tablurath himself was aware of perhaps. He decided to promise himself one thing after this little game; he would seek out Mirra when all was said and done.
He could hardly expect the Angar-Rylla to keep their word after all.
