POST ONE The stink of a prison cell was unlike anything else AhkRan had let pass his

nostrils. There was the odor of the unwashed, the filthy rot of food discarded, and the sheets soiled with hundreds of people who had dared to lay their heads upon the burlap fabric. The smell of the ocean not far off made the stink worse, giving it a tang that forced it to linger longer than one would have enjoyed. With a sigh, the warrior looked out to see the vision from his caged window, three iron pillars built into the mortar of the stone building. He sighed as he thought about how he had even ended up in this prison cell, turning to the chained bed that hung against the wall. Each link, rusted with orange taint, flaked into dust onto the pillow that at one point had been an immaculate white. Several ships at the port similarly exuded the taint of aging. Even the iron banding around the barrels by the piers showed the corruption of time. After all, he had been well acquainted with them not more than an hour ago. He had been tossed into them by Teric Barton, intending to test his mettle against The Bloodrose. He had attempted to persuade the mercenary into a sparring contest to see just how large the gap between skill truly was. In the end, he had learned a valuable lesson about self control and tampering his emotions, and that The Bloodrose was not a man to be trifled with. The Fallien native had felt bitter disappointment at his ineptitude, but was humbled that his gods would show him his own failings. To make up for his shortcomings he had rushed forward to the aid of Teric to ensure the mercenary could gain passage to his boat. However, while helping him escape, his weapon had found purchase in the faces of three men from the Coronian guard. Within moments they were swarming him as Ahkran watched Terics boat set sail. He decided to look out his window instead, as his current view had little new to report save a rather plump rat that gnawed away at something. Through the small hole, he had his own little view of the world. He could see a large stadium, masterfully erected with several large wooden support beams. It seemed to eclipse the buildings beside it, and even the tall towers of the Citadel seemed to match its height. Though it was clearly miles away, he could hear the roar of an audience as clear as if he were a participant himself. He could even feel the tension and excitement, leaving curiosity to nibble at his tired bones. At long last the wooden door creaked open, several armed guards stepping into the small prison hold. You are AhkRan Kopec? asked a built man with long blonde hair. A black pointed beard surrounded his mouth and his blue eyes scanned the desert native with keen interest. AhkRan nodded in response to the question. You were seen aiding Teric Bloodrose escape our authority for destruction to port property of the Viceroys. Normally wed have you shackled until your sentence is up, but I think a better opportunity has presented itself. The guard next to leader stepped forward and tossed the bronze weapon AhkRan usually carried around with him to the ground; the guard seemed to care little as it clattered loudly on the floor before him. The clang of metal against metal rang in the air as a guard pulled out a metal ring, picking out a long skeleton key. He lifted it up and turned the lock, the iron groaning as it opened. AhkRans eyes narrowed in concern, but the man merely lifted his hand to calm the warrior down.

As you probably have heard, there is a mighty construct nearby that is overseen by the Monks of Ai'brone and within Empire control. It is nothing more than a publicity stunt to pacify the growing concerns over the fabled civil war that everyone keeps spreading rumors about. The massive war scenario is nearing its end, and after seeing your skill with that interesting weapon I have thought of a way for you to repay your debt to his majesty in a manner that I think youd have no qualms with. There was a mischievous smile filled with a set of white teeth as the man beckoned the bronzed warrior forwards. Slowly and cautiously, he did so, and the man turned to lead him out the prison cell with the guards flanking him. What idea has your mind think? AhkRan asked, his terrible understanding of common causing the man to laugh lightly. I think, he teased, that these people just watched a great massive battle, but now some personal clashes of champions would be fitting to entertain the crowds. KimLuk, AhkRan said while nodding his head in understanding. Aa spar. The guard turned to him and nodded his head appreciatively. KimLuk is an honorable fight of men. No killing, but very violent. A way to test warriors! The Fallien warrior looked forward and found a carriage pulled by two black stallions, breeds he was all too familiar with, as they had been imported from his desert lands. An attendant opened the carriage door and only the leader walked into it, gesturing for AhkRan to join him. I have heard of those battles. Yes, this will definitely be a test of your skills. This man has fought a demon and lived long enough to watch him die. It was glorious combat to watch! When the man had mentioned he had killed a demon, AhkRan frowned before nodding his head. I too seek out demons and wish to destroy them. If this man killed a demon then his strength must at least be equal to mine! The idea started to grow on AhkRan as he felt a tingle of anticipation shoot a chill up his spine. He twitched in excitement as the man let out a riotous laugh. Oh yes, hes at least your equal AhkRan. His grin managed to widen as he lifted a hand to pull out a small box of cheese, offering some to the desert native. He took a hunk and thanked the man, as he had not eaten since his imprisonment. The guard popped a grape into his mouth, the sphere bursting open with a loud squish before lowering the vine and smiling again. Have you heard of Elijah Belov, or the Dajas Pagoda? Its been a while since the establishment has seen activity, but the fights there were certainly well known. I am fear I have not. No matter then, the guard mused as he stifled a laugh. Im sure this will be a contest that will truly test your mettle. The cart suddenly stopped abruptly and AhkRan almost fell out of the seat. The man had to place his hand on the desert warriors chest to prevent his collapse as he stood and opened the door. There were new guards now, all dressed in fine armor that made the seaport guardians look second-rate. The polished silver reflected the light that bounced off the

bronze kopesh and their demeanor was stern as they saluted the captain. The man gave a halfhearted reply as the sudden explosion of noise hit AhkRan like a wet towel. He had not realized they just traveled to the Citadel the one he had looked at through his small window. To stand before it was to feel like an insect before a dragon. Its scope was impossible for him to take in, and he lost his breath as he heard vivacious roar of the audience. The guards laughter at the desert warriors reaction was drowned out by a cry for more. Led by the pristine guards forward, he took in every sight and sound he could until he entered into a dark tunnel. He could feel the tremors of the stone building as the people jumped and stamped their feet. He kept walking, a headache beginning from the cacophony as he held his weapon tightly. At last, there was light in the tunnel. Two portals slowly opened as the warrior lifted his weapon to block out the early afternoon sun. What lay behind the veil of Ptra, the god of the sun, was a mystery that made the desert warrior lick his lips.

POST TWO AhkRan had to shield his eyes from the sun as he stepped forward, the enormous roar of the crowds making his body tremble and heart pound like a drum. Tingles of energy danced along his nerves, making him shiver in delight. This was so much like his desert-pit spars from home. The arena within was what suddenly made him narrow his eyes in concern. Those are death weapons! AhkRan shouted, pointing to the stakes that rose with the wooden podium, seeming to grow toward the heavens. The commander behind him merely shrugged as he placed a reassuring hand on the desert warrior's arm. He gripped the muscle between the neck and arm, his own amusement making his voice speak in a beguiling manner. Oh yes they are! Thirty Coronian redwoods chopped down and cut to shape for just such an occasion. Dont worry though, Ahk, youll be fine. He passed a grin that was even more discomforting and only served to furrow the warrior's brow in displeasure. The desert native lifted his weapon up to his side and approached the circular chamber. It seemed to hover above the ground by at least a foot while a small wind torrent blew dust in circles around it. Just think of this as the Citadel justa little more painful, the captain offered with a fake smile, turning his back to his guards and motioning for them to move back out. AhkRan was left with just one choice. Steeling his courage, he lowered his hand to the dirt and filled his palm, particles of sand and other debris softly sifting through his fingers and blowing behind him. Praise to the Sun God, who gives me the strength for a new day. His words were spoken with reverence and care as he took his weapon and shallowly cut along the inside of his right arm. Lifting the remaining sand and dirt to the sky, he shouted the name of his god, lowering the smooth-feeling powder and grit to his wound and rubbing it in. The feeling of a thousand bee stings made his flesh tingle as if it were on fire, but as he bit his tongue to keep from crying out

the pain slowly subsided. In a matter of moments the familiar golden glow of his gods blessing created an aura around his right arm, and the weight of his kopesh was featherlike in his enhanced grip. He lowered himself to the ground and grabbed more of the fine powder, cutting along his left arm this time. Praise be to the Earth God, who is the foundation of my soul! In the same manner as before, he lifted the offering up to the sky, and with practiced ease he ground it into the bloody opening of his flesh. The pain became unbearable and he let out a moan of agitation. However, like before, it was a temporary and invigorating pain, leaving his body aglow with the faintest of green auras once it passed. Fully blessed for this battle, the desert native bowed his head and dropped to his knees in supplication before kissing the earth and thanking GeHeb for granting him his protection. Rising up with weapon lifted high he screamed a warrior's cry of battle to the sun, the bronze weapon glinting with the illumination of Ptra in the air in a dazzling manner. I am AhkRan Kopec, Chosen of the Gods! I offer this KimLuk as an offering to please you! Watch this fight and see the courage of men in honorable battle! Though most of the people in the audience could not hear him, they found his little pre-battle ritual entertaining, and several of the crowd cheered for the Fallien warrior as he calmly and confidently stepped forward onto the small floating dais that lifted him up towards his foe. Whoever Elijah Belov was and what he had accomplished meant little now. The only way to prove who was superior was to take all their wisdom and experiences and apply it in the crucible of battle.

POST THREE Majicks, AhkRan muttered dryly as he watched the flames whip around Elijah. The flickering fire moved around the conjurer in a deadly dance as he sang them a tune, bending and weaving the flares to the will of the maestros song. They moved upwards in a crescendo of power, a large pillar forming much to the awe of the crowd as people cheered at the hero. Yet all the desert warrior could do was look down upon the area he entered, glancing at the captain who talked him into all this. Oh yes, hes at least your equal AhkRan. 'I must really improve my understanding of common so I can detect sarcasm,' AhkRan thought dully as his weapon lifted to his side. He would have to remember the insult later, but for now, he had matters that were more pressing. At the rate the inferno traveled, AhkRan would soon be fried. Remembering a lesson from his teacher about desert storms, an idea spawned as the warrior turned to his left and ran.

The huge conflagration moved towards him like a leering jinn of flame. Claw-like appendages that glowed yellow and orange chased him like a jackal after prey. There was little time, and he was still too far away to make the move, but with one last burst of speed he bolted outwards. The flames licked at his back and calves, singing him and telling him it was time to take his leap of faith. He dropped his kopesh, jumped forward and rolled on the wooden dais, sliding along his stomach and leading his feet to fall over the edge. The green glow of his chest had protected him from splinters as if he had worn armor, and aided in the smooth ride. In one swift motion his body dipped over the abyss and he fell for a brief second. His golden hand had caught the edge of the platform, his enhanced strength gripping the ledge and leaving tiny dents in the wood. The crowd screamed in excitement as the flames passed over him, his other hand gripping his wrist as he dangled, slowly teetering left and right as his feet stared at the world below. The desert warrior felt the heat washing over his fingers, but the sun god Ptras blessing would not burn him, for the sun was fire itself. That did not, however, help with the overwhelming wave of heat. Sweat dripped down his brow as if a damp rag had been squeezed over him. Even his time in the sands of Fallien had not prepared him for such heat. He muttered his praises to the gods as he willed himself to ignore all the pain and strain, and within moments the fire was gone. The crowd still cheered loudly, those on the side of Elijah clapped and whooped, thinking the warrior obliterated and that only his weapon remained. Yet the people on his side knew better, and they eagerly cheered him on. There was a certain power that AhkRan felt, to be cheered for in such a manner. Pride swelled within his heart as he lifted himself up with both hands, the wood still hot from the flaming attack. When he rolled back onto the floor he quickly stood up, leaning down and picking up his kopesh in his enchanted hand. Even though the weapons metal was hot to the touch, his blessing protected him. He just had to be sure not to let the heated bronze touch any part of his skin. That cautionary thought split off into a darker thought as he grinned in anticipation, moving towards Elijah in a run. The Bronze weapon would only retain the heat for a brief time, but would it be long enough to leave a few marks for Elijah to remember the Fallien native by?

POST FOUR AhkRan let his chest rise and fall as he fell onto his back, the only part of his body that his enchanted armor aura did not cover. Bits of wood had got stuck and pricked him after being warped by the blazing inferno. His Gods' blessings were slowly fading with each second and after running head first into an invisible brick wall, the desert native had swallowed his pride and accepted that he was not just outclassed he was being used for sport. His opponent spoke with anger-filled words and he could detect agitation by the inflection. He had come to wonder what exactly the lesson was in this particular fight. His gods were always testing him, always pushing him to a higher level of performance. Yet this time he had no

clue what to think the lesson was. One could not expect an infant to topple a giant, and as it stood now, this task would have one conclusion. He looked to all the people, their cries and jeers and laughter mocking him endlessly. Here he was, a warrior on a platform fighting to the death, and theylaughed. A dark root managed to fester within AhkRans heart, his eyes watering at being hurt in such a manner. In Fallien, nobles and commoners saw this sort of combat as well, but nobody laughed. Nobody insulted the warriors who risked their physical health for their entertainment. The fact that they had even dared to taunt him so casually agitated the desert warrior. If he were to face them in an arena of this nature, they would not be laughing as hard as they did now. Yet he closed his eyes and let the sun wash over him, the warming rays of heat feeling good as the sun god kissed his flesh. He let the noise slowly fade out of his mind, and then suddenly the lesson he had not understood became as clear as the sky above. Sobering from his depression, he slowly lifted himself up using his kopesh as a cane, digging it deeply into the wood and leaving scars behind. His two auras had faded, but he did not care. They were not going to change the drastic difference between him and his opponent. He stood up and stretched his back before scraping the bronze weapon against the ground, then raising it up and into a ready position. I am AhkRan Kopec, Chosen of the Gods, AhkRan at last answered in a calm manner. And I am here to make a fool of myself. AhkRan paused, touching his chest. And you, too, he finished, pointing to Elijah. In front of all these people," he said, letting his finger point to all those around the entire arena. "But do not think me wrong! AhkRan warned with a grin. I am no fool, and I will fight with all the honor I have. This was the lesson AhkRan: stay true to his convictions and his honor, even in the face of despair and hopelessness. He would die fighting the way he was trained, and no matter how he was treated, he would fight with his all.