The gate opens upon the far end of the arena, sparks light flagstones ablaze as steel marries the ground. The handler of a crude mace, female, younger than yourself, yet having found within her the calling of bloodlust. She steps forth, head hung low as she speaks through a curtain of hair You'd look better on the ground, painting the stones red...her words are taut, as if she had no true understanding of them. She grips her mace as she prepares to swing. The audience above chants evermore.
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1ҜΠΣLL
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3 hours ago