“Oh yeah!” With one swift motion, Hallie was up out of her chair and heading toward the platform. Psudae watched her strut through the tables, accepting the cheers and good wishes of her league mates on her way. Just as she was about to step onto the platform, the halfling man dipped his hand into the Admission basket. Psudae tried hard to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
The man’s hand finally lifted from the bin, and within it, a slip of paper, folded into a perfect half. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to go first, she could get it over with. His thick fingers carefully revealed the name, moving, from her perspective, far too slow. The audience seemed to be boiling over with apprehension, eager to commence with the Admission ceremony. His mouth parted once more, reading the name with too little expression. The crowd lay silent as Psudae’s anxious tail wrapped around her chair leg.
“Chane Greenhill.”
A lone warrior approached the square from out of the darkness. The whole throng of watchers gave an uproarious howl of excitement as the elf trudged up the steep platform steps. She wore a long black cloak that reached the back of her knees, the fabric ripped and tattered as though it had been penetrated by many arrows. Her armor was quite unconventional, a chest plate with layers of what looked like sharp metal pieces welded over each other, and high metal greaves of the same crude design. The clothes underneath were pretty average, black knickers, and a long sleeve shirt that only covered her left arm. In her right hand was a strange stone longsword, whose blade had three engraved triangles running up its middle. The design was unrefined, rough in appearance, and seemed a burden to wield.
Chane came to the platform and did not smile. Her face was solemn and determined, juxtaposed with Hallie’s wide grin.
“Alright you two,” the halfling thundered, “I want a good clean game to start us off. Let’s give these ruffians what they came for.”
The crowd hollered out in approval as the opponents positioned themselves at opposite ends of the ring. Hallie took a wide stance, stretching out her arms and staring down her rival, who stood motionless on the other side of the box. The halfling took his time walking to a side platform and pulled out a bright red flag from below him. Loud cheers and taunts echoed from the audience as they waited for the fight to begin, but the fighters seemed unphased by the noise. Their gazes were fixed on each other, either to assess their own odds or in the interest of intimidation. In many ways, their intent wasn’t important. They were about to engage in bloody, relentless combat. Perhaps their eyes met to convey an apology for the inevitable injury each side would inflict. Whatever the case, the time before their fight was soon running out.
The elf’s skills were easy to read: her armor and sword boasted a rough fighter, while Hallie’s garb, loose and baggy shades of black indicated her need for flexibility. On her wrists sat thick black bracers that came about her elbow and on her head sat a mop of black hair in what might be described as a bun.
Without warning, the halfling raised the red flag over his head and, when there was silence, yelled: “Go!” slicing the flag through the air with a crimson flash.
Quick as lightning Hallie charged toward her opponent, a black streak so fast it almost seemed as though she had teleported. Before Chane even had the chance to react, Hallie’s palm collided with the elf’s armored stomach with a devastating impact, causing her body to buckle around blow. The whole crowd erupted in cheers of approval as tiny bits of blood and spittle launched involuntarily from Chane’s maw. Without time for the elf to even catch her breath, Hallie was behind her, dealing a quick jab to her lower spine.
The crowd’s screams overpowered the elf’s sharp intake of air as her weight fell forward. Catching her momentum with one foot, she found herself face-to-face with her opponent again. Swinging her body around in an impressive cyclone, Hallie’s right heel crashed into Chane’s jaw forcing her body to follow the impact.
Psudae cringed as the elf caught herself by pushing off her sword like it was a walking stick. If the fight continued in this way, the elf would be finished within a minute. She gulped. Would her battle be the same? The crowd howled in approval.
Still leaning on her sword, Chane carried out her first attack, sending two tiny rhombi flying from her blade over toward her opponent. The rock-like shapes zoomed toward Hallie, twisting around each other like spinning blades. The human stood motionless, wearing a determined grin. Two blurs and a splash of blood followed as the rocks met their target. The audience gasped and cheered as they realized that by some stroke of luck, Hallie had caught the stones. Hallie held a rock in each hand, between her index and middle fingers, wearing a wild smile as red blood dripped down her fingertips.
The elf wasted no time charging toward her opponent, holding her longsword with two hands. The sound of her boots clunking faster and faster on the metal platform, heading towards the human, still standing defiant. Her blade ignited with an intense white glow, growing brighter with each pounding step she took. Like the wings of a hawk, the blade took to the air in the elf’s hand, singing as it gathered speed, growing ever brighter.
Emphatic cries of euphoric applause sounded as the attack was resolved. The blade would have hit its mark had its target been less capable. Just as the sword had come upon her, the human leaned back ninety degrees so that not even her nose was nipped. Her feet had never left the ground.
The power of the elf’s swing carried her a bit, causing her to become unbalanced for one moment. That was enough. Still holding the blood-red stones in her hands, Hallie rocketed forward from her bridge-like form, pitching one of the stones at her opponent’s exposed back. Before the projectile could reach its mark, Chane swung her blade, catching the hot stone in its place in one smooth motion. Her form was tired, aching, bent over in future bruises, but her eyes were set into a strong resolve, even as she coughed up blood. Chane charged forward.
The sword glowed again with brilliant chalk-white power. Chane’s movement was becoming faster, and as she rushed toward Hallie, the air seemed to cater to her steps. She pulled back her sword again, ready to bring down a desolating blow across the torso of her challenger.
Carving through the air, the sword swung at the human, who responded by falling into a full-leg split to avoid Chane’s intense attack. The sword had managed to slice through its target’s tied-up hair, slicing off the top of it and letting the remaining strands fall to the human’s shoulders.
Before her opponent hit the ground, Hallie was already preparing her barrage. From her split, she slammed her two hands onto the hard platform floor and, shifting all her weight onto them, she pulled together her outstretched legs. From her crouched position, she leaped into the air, meeting her opponent as she was beginning to succumb to gravity. As Hallie was coming up, Chane came down, hitting her chin on the human’s readied knee.
As Chane’s head blasted back, the crowd went wild, crying with shock and excitement as blood sprayed from the elf’s nose. Pounding fists and deafening cheers filled the whole hall.
Chane flipped backward, landing hard on three limbs. All three of the holes on her face now dripped blood, sliding down her skin and leaving little red pools on the dusty floor of the arena. Hallie then released the second rock before sprinting forward, hurling it through the air in a red blast, flinging it with such immense air pressure that the blood that had been covering it was blasted off. The elf acted quick enough, managing to snag the rock from its dreadful trajectory with a smooth swing of her sword, turning the blade over in her hand for one moment, catching the rhombus, then turning it back. It was a beautiful maneuver that was so unfortunate as to leave her exposed.
As the elf’s body was turned to catch the weight of the projectile, Hallie made her move, changing the trajectory on her left foot in stride and slamming her challenger’s neck with her right heel. Chane stumbled forward and found herself standing within arm’s reach of her opponent and Hallie was readying what looked to be an awful barrage.
Hallie’s face was hard and serious, focused, and domineering. From her bracers, two shining blades emerged, and as she fell toward her opponent, she prepared to strike with both.
Psudae saw Chane's right-hand shake, grasping the longsword, looking as though she was fighting something, someone other than Hallie. Above the screams of the crowd, the weight of the scene stood frozen in time.
The blades inched closer and closer, thirsty for blood, about to break the elf’s skin. Chane’s face changed in a moment from tired anger to driven tenacity.
She jumped back, with a sort of preciseness, sure of her surroundings. Her mouth moved, uttering some words, causing a glowing ball of white energy to appear. The magic seemed to be beating with the same intensity as Psudae’s own heartbeat.
In a moment, Chane set the magic free, sending two bright bolts blasting toward the towering challenger.
Both hit their mark, smashing Hallie in the chest and left leg, pushing her ragdoll body across the ring.
Soon enough, though, Hallie had landed, almost in her original position. Left foot back and breathing ragged breaths, Hallie groaned, panting, and wearing a joyous grin on her face.
An ear-piercing alarm sounded and the crowd jumped from their seats and erupted in almost insane screams. Hallie’s foot had just scraped past the box’s outline.
For a moment, the only sound was ruckus cheering, surrounding the two opponents. The two stood frozen in the final moments of their fight, Hallie’s foot still positioned back over the yellow line. Chane stood, panting with her hand still in the air, shaking and smoking. Her face was stuck in a daze, eyes wide and mouth set open, dripping blood and saliva.
Hallie acted first, dragging her limbs up to stand straight. She stumbled forward, legs shaking, hair cut, and knuckles bloodied. Approaching the elf, she put an affirming hand on her shoulder, leaving behind a red handprint, and headed off the stage, still donning that goofy grin.
The halfling man took the stage once again, and Chane finally slinked off the stage into the excited crowd. “Good fight ladies. Remember, any healing you want is free of charge. Welcome to the league, Miss Greenhill. For future reference to all you challengers today, if you pass the Admission Test make sure you meet me after this whole thing is over for orientation.” He dug his hand into the league member barrel and pulled out a name.
Psudae wasn’t listening to the names called next, they weren’t her’s. She watched with wide eyes as Hallie limped back to the table.
“Hal, you look terrible!” Bivyre said, helping her sit down and whipping her head around in various directions, “Where’s the cleric? Do you want some potatoes? AH! Your hands! Phillip!”
“Biv, they’re fine…” Hallie said, closing her eyes and sighing as she rested in her chair. “...kind of mad about my hair though.”
The crowd roared again as Bivyre snorted, “Of course, that’s where your brain goes first...Phillip!”
“Really, I’m ok…” Hallie put up her bloodied hand with great effort. “...Chane needs it more than I do.” She smiled and relaxed in the wooden chair, her body heaving with slow, controlled breaths.
“Hal, no, you’re not fine. PHILLIP!”
“Here, let me,” Psudae spoke finally, reaching toward the tired body of her human friend. As she held Hallie’s bloody hands in hers, Bivyre took in a sharp breath. “Don’t worry.”
From her golden gauntlets, a warm yellow glow appeared. Hallie’s ragged breaths slowed. The deep rivets of damage had disappeared, leaving behind two renewed hands.
“Thanks, Psudae.” Hallie shifted in her chair, looking a bit less tired, and hovered over the steaming potato slices with a faint smile. “I think we chose the perfect person to add to the team, eh, Biv?”
Still looking a bit exasperated, the chestnut-skinned elf relaxed. “Yes indeed.” For a small while, the table was quiet, a stark contrast to the rest of the hall. Psudae’s thoughts turned towards her coming fight, her stomach churning in anticipation. The two opponents wailed on each other in the ring, one holding a huge Warhammer, preparing to slam their challenger’s head in. As the hammer fell and the crowd roared, Bivyre spoke, her face serious. “You were reckless out there Hal. You could have ended that fight a whole lot sooner. Why did you have to hurt yourself?”
The human paused her potato feast mid-bite and gave a weak smile. “It was for the crowd Biv. You know they want a good fight, some tension ups the applause.”
“Hallie,” Bivyre’s tone was forthright and tense. “I saw the look on your face. What are you thinking?”
Still wearing a smile, Hallie’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll be back” Her wooden chair screeched back on the wooden floor and she began to speed away.
“Hal, please…where-”
She was already gone, lost in the explosive cheers. Bivyre groaned and ate a potato.
