Baron von Iraf the 3rd, Human Mage, Meek

"You're up next!"

Iraf winced at the words the large orc barked at the slight mage and his goblin companion. No matter how many times he found himself in this position, Iraf could never be comfortable with the scowls and yells of the always irritable arena wardens. It seemed as though all arenas were staffed by the same breed of angry brute. Ugly, rude, and usually rather smelly.

Iraf looked down at his partner. He had been with Figgle almost three years now, and would trust the goblin with his life. He had done just that countless times during their arena matches. And the small assassin had yet to let him down.

Figgle was studying a large poster on the wall of the arena staging area. "Look at this nonsense, Iraf. Three more prohibited poisons on the list! At this rate, I'll be lucky if they allow me to coat my blades in vinegar!" the goblin griped. He looked over to the warden. "Who's idea was this list? Your gran's?" Figgle shouted at the orc. He recieved a menacing scowl in response.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad, my friend. You don't even use those poisons. Not worth the coin it would cost us to acquire them were your exact words, I believe" said Iraf. "Come along, we are up and I don't think that warden appreciated your comment about his grandmother."

"Bah, knowing his kind as I do, he probably already ate her, so why should I be the one he is upset with? I didn't curse him with his orciness." exclaimed Figgle, as they walked to their assigned entrance.

"Were you able to get any information on our opponents?" Iraf asked, attempting to change the subject away from the consumption of forebears.

"Nothing useful," replied Figgle. "Word on the street is they were tearing up the competition in the southern circuits, but no one seems to know why they moved north or what sort of fighting they use. We are to be their first match since they've arrived. Lucky us!" The goblin assassin had a sour look on his face. "Do you know how many pints I had to buy to get such useless information?"

Iraf suppressed a grin. They had done well this season and were not hurting for coin, but Figgle would take any opportunity to lament their misfortune and declare himself practically destitute. Iraf was also sure no small amount of the aforementioned pints had made their way into the goblin's stomach.

The mage and assassin had arrived at their starting platform. As they stepped onto the colorfully inlaid stone disc, another arena warden, this time an elderly human in red robes approached and greeted them.

"Hail, combatants! Thank you for participating in today's event. Please remember arena rules. No disintegration. No banishings, other than of summoned creatures. No summoning of demons from lower than the Third Circle. Injury to spectators is grounds for immediate forfeit. Poisons only from the appro-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We got it. Let's get this show on the road."

The warden gave Friggle an icy look. "Very well. Good luck, combatants. May you fight, or die, honorably," he said with an emotionless voice.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a very unlikable sort of person?" Iraf asked the goblin as the disc they stood on began to rise into the air.

"Most everyone." said Friggle. "If I didn't care when my mother said it, I'm sure not going to care what some boring old human thinks. So how do you want to do this? We know squat about these guys' capabilities. Should we play it slow, feel them out?"

"That sounds like the best plan of action. Feeling sneaky, my friend?" Iraf replied.

The goblin assassin grinned. "You know, Iraf, one of these days that fancy shield of yours won't stand up to having two opponents focusing on it. And that just might be the day I decide a life of crime while invisible is much easier than saving your sorry hide."

Iraf laughed. "I hope you understand that my last breath in this world will be to curse you, both literally and figuratively, my friend."

The disc carried the two through a hole in the ceiling before settling flush with the floor of the arena. Iraf tried to ignore the sound of the crowd yelling and jeering from the stands encircling the arena and focused his attention on his competitors standing on their own disc a hundred yards away. One of them was a tall thin figure wearing what looked to be heavy black robes. His companion seemed to be an almost naked man cowering as far away from the black robed individual as possible, while still staying on the disc.

Iraf frowned and pointed the strange pair out to Figgle and asked "What do you make of that? That one doesn't look to be in any shape to be dueling."

"Not our problem," answered the goblin. "If he wants to get himself killed out here, who are we to stop him?" Iraf noticed that the assassin didn't sound very sure of himself, no matter how flippant he was attempting to appear.

"Yellow flames. Prep time, Iraf. Work your magic.", Figgle said, with some urgency. Iraf took his eyes off the strange duo across the field and saw that the torches lining the walls of the arena had indeed turned from the bright red they had been moments ago, to a vibrant yellow. Less than a minute before the match started. They were now allowed to cast preliminary spells.

Iraf closed his eyes and concentrated on the workings of his first spell. In his mind, he pictured Figgle standing beside him and then slowly began to erase the image of the goblin, leaving an empty space on the disc where he had once stood. When the mage opened his eyes, Figgle was gone.

"Am I suitably invisible, Iraf?" said the disembodied voice of Figgle. It was a funny quirk of invisibility spells that the subject was not invisible to themselves.

"Suitable enough for me, I've never been that fond of your face. Too weaselly. Now be quiet, I need to concentrate."

Iraf closed his eyes again and begin to conjure an image of a glowing sphere of energy around himself. He pictured it withstanding flames and lightning and being struck by all manner of weapons. He opened his eyes and the world seemed to have taken on a slightly golden tint as he observed it through the magic surrounding him.

"I hope a dragon sits on you." declared the invisible Figgle.

"Better than eaten by an orc, like you will be one day, my friend." deadpanned Iraf in response. "Green flames. Go."

The torches had flared a sickly green, signifying the start of the match. Iraf paused for a moment then dashed to the left, making for one of the eight massive pillars that stood in the arena. The mage knew Figgle would have gone the same direction, making his way to the outer edge of the arena, in an attempt to get behind their opponents. It was Iraf's job to draw their attention so they wouldn't bother looking for goblin.

Iraf reached the closest pillar and put it between himself and his adversaries. He then kneeled down and quickly drew a rudimentary figure in the dirt of the arena floor. A moment of concentration by the mage caused the dirt within the drawing to rise up and take the shape of a tiny homunculus with one large eye. Iraf touched the top of the creature's head with one finger and suddenly, overlapping with what he could see with his own eyes, Iraf could also see what the homunculus viewed. Iraf made a gesture at his thrall and the tiny being ran out from behind the pillar.

Iraf took in what he could see through the homunculus' eyes. He needed to find where the tall robed figure and the other man had gone while he had been hiding. He started in surprise when he saw that they hadn't even left their disc yet. Usually the first thing arena combatants did was find cover and engage from there. At least, the ones that stayed alive did.

The mage watched as the robed figure stood impassively on the starting area, his cowled head bowed down. His cowering partner seemed to be even more terrified than he had been previously and was practically clawing at the ground in an attempt to get away from his partner. Iraf felt unsettled. The pair looked as if they had done no preparations for the battle. They acted like no gladiators the mage had ever faced before.

Knowing Figgle wouldn't like it, but feeling it neccessary considering the circumstances, Iraf created a telepathic link with the invisible goblin.

"I feel you in here, Iraf! What did I tell you about rummaging around in my head?!"

"Awfully hard to rummage an empty room, my friend. How close are you to our competition? Something feels off about them."

"I'm about ten yards from the one doing his best impression of a snake. I figured it would be a kindness to put that one out of his misery before we start on tall, dark, and creepy."

"Ok, be careful. There is definitely strangeness afoot. I'm going to see if I can get their attention. Take the first opening you see."

"Yeah. I will. I do manage to regularly do this without you tagging along in my skull, you know?"

Iraf felt the conversation with his partner had reached the conclusion of its usefulness, so he didn't answer Figgle as he stepped out from behind the pillar. His true sight now matched the vision he shared with the summoned homunculus he commanded. Many yards away, the robed figure and his companion had still not moved from their starting area. Iraf sent his tiny creation scurrying quickly towards them as he cautiously followed.

Iraf knew his homunculus would offer no real help in combat, but anything that would keep his opponents attention away from Figgle would be beneficial. When the small creature got closer to them, the robed figured lifted his head and seemed to look in its direction. He then crossed his arms in front of his torso and then swiftly brought them down and away from himself. The homunculus dissapeared in a cloud of dust.

Iraf's second sight vanished with the homunculus. His true sight also lost its golden luster, as the magical shield surrounding him dissipated. Just past his adversaries, Iraf could see Figgle crouched low and sneaking up on the cowering man. Iraf realized with horror that the goblin could not tell that his invisibility was gone and he was now visible and vulnerable. Iraf tried to scream out a warning with the psychic connection he had established earlier, but it too was gone.

The robed figure turned his head in Iraf's direction, but before he could do anything else, his partner started shouting incomprehensibly. The robed man whipped around and saw his companion attempting to scrabble away from the approaching Figgle. The goblin, now suddenly aware that he was no longer hidden, charged the pair, daggers drawn. The black robed figure made a motion with his arm, flinging it across his body as if he were striking someone with the back of his hand. An unseen force crashed into Figgle and threw him head over heels to the side.

Iraf stopped moving when he saw his friend flung aside like a ragdoll. He immediately pictured a massive crossbow in his mind and fired a bolt of magic energy towards the opposing mage. It struck him in the back, but it didn't even cause him to flinch, almost as if his robes absorbed the magic. The robed figure turned back to Iraf and pointed a long, spindly finger in his direction. A thin black beam shot out from the tip of the wizard's finger toward Iraf. He dodged and rolled to the side just in time, the beam leaving the smell of sulphur in the air as it flew passed him.

Iraf scrambled to his feet, his mind racing to form a spell of protection against his opponent's magic's. However, no other attack came from the wizard. He had instead walked over to his partner and had placed a hand on the cowering man's head. Iraf began to craft a spell in his mind, but it slipped from his mental grasp as he watched what was happening between his adversaries.

The cowering, half-naked man was screaming. His face was contorted in indescribable pain. Iraf watched in disbelief as the man started to expand. Huge muscles grew at a amazing speed all over his body. His limbs stretched to inhuman lengths. Hair sprouted in huge patches across his body. Finally the wizard released his grasp on the now monstrous man. The newly transformed man-beast stood up to his full height, towering over his once taller partner. The robed wizard pointed in Iraf's direction and the beast began loping toward him on all fours at high speed.

Iraf shook off the shock of what he had just seen, and was able to quickly reestablish his golden shield. The beast reached him right as his spell finalized, and it crashed into the protective barrier, pushing Iraf back several feet. The monster clawed and bit at the shield, roaring in frustration as it made no progress in breaching the obstruction. As long as his magic held, Iraf faced no real harm from the beast, but he was still at the whim of the monster's strength as it manhandled the shield, pushing Iraf across the arena floor.

Suddenly, the monster stopped attacking the shield, turned around, and began running back to its master. Iraf watched as the beast made a beeline for the opposing wizard, who looked to have collapsed on the starting disc. Standing over him was the swaying form of Figgle, dagger in hand. Iraf quickly formed an image of grasping hands in his mind and the charging beast's feet became entangled in the grip of stone hands that erupted from the arena floor. It roared in frustration and thrashed at the stone holding him in place.

Figgle thrust his dagger into the back of the fallen wizard, barely keeping his balance as he did. His head was still swimming from the blow he had taken earlier. His opponent made no sound as the blade was jabbed into his body. The goblin yanked the dagger out and scanned the arena for Iraf. He thought he could just make out the golden glow of the mage's shield with his blurry vision. Figgle breathed a small sigh of relief. It was short lived, as the fallen opponent in front of him kicked back, striking the assassin in the stomach.

As Figgle struggled to catch his breath, the robed wizard got to his feet. Without a glance at the goblin, he strode to where his bestial partner was still struggling against the bonds of earth Iraf had woven around his legs. He stopped when he neared the monster and made a gesture towards the stone holding it in place. The rocks began to crack apart as the beast thrashed against them.

Iraf attempted to strengthen the stone shackles, but he was tiring. Using this much of his magical power without even a short rest was taxing. Even with the reinforcement, the stone continued to break under the assault of the angry beast. In another few moments it would be free and the mage had no doubt in his mind that his shield would not withstand another direct attack. In desperation, Iraf summoned up every last bit of reserve strength he had left and began forming an image of a burning sphere on his mind.

The robed wizard pointed at Iraf and another black beam shot towards the mage. It struck his shield and dissipated, but left a smoking black scar where it had impacted. Iraf continued to build the image of a fireball in his mind, imagining it bigger and hotter than he had ever created before. Another black bolt struck his shield, and then another, both leaving dark pits in his shield.

With a howl of triumph, the monster broke free of its stone fetters and turned towards Iraf. Its wizard master sent a fourth beam of energy at the mage. This time, a sliver of blackness slipped through the golden shield and struck Iraf in the left shoulder. He screamed as he felt his flesh burn and loosed his spell before the pain could steal it from his mind.

A tiny glowing marble appeared in front of Iraf and flew towards the beast and wizard, quickly expanding as it approached them. In the few short seconds it took to reach its targets, the fireball has grown to a size even greater than the beast it was now impacting on. A massive explosion threw the immense form of the monster back a dozen yards and the force of the fireball's detonation sent the robed wizard tumbling back as well.

Iraf dropped to his knees, and clutched his shoulder. Whatever magic had struck him had rendered his left arm dangling and lifeless. His golden shield was no more, Iraf could no longer sustain it through the pain and fatigue he felt. He watched as the form of the monster thrashed as it burned, but it did not attempt to rise to its feet. The black robed wizard laid still where he fell, wisps of smoke rising from the body. Iraf knew he had to get up and find Figgle and make sure he was ok, but he could not muster the strength to move. The pain in his shoulder was throbbing and radiating into his chest.

Suddenly, his goblin friend was beside him, trying to help him to his feet.

"You're lucky I decided to crawl off and catch my breath in the corner. If you had set me on fire, I'm not sure I would ever forgive you."

"You're lucky those two got in the way. I was aiming for you."

Figgle gave a small chuckle as he assisted Iraf to his feet and allowed the mage to lean on him for support. They would definitely need to see the arena clerics, thought the goblin, and maybe even splurge for a private healer as well. Arena clerics would keep you alive, but not much else.

A sudden blast of invisible power sent the companions spinning to the floor of the arena. The robed wizard was standing again, having gained his footing unnoticed by Iraf and Figgle, his outstretched arms evidence of the spellcasting that had just knocked them to the ground. The wizard turned and walked towards his still twitching minion.

Figgle crawled to where Iraf had fallen. The mage was unconcious, but breathing. Figgle tried to rouse him. "Come on, buddy. We can't stay here and you're to damn heavy to carry."

The cheers and jeers that normally came from the stands surrounding the arena turned to what sounded like shouts of confusion and concern. Figgle looked up from Iraf to see what the commotion was about and saw that the robed wizard had summoned some type of swirling black mass above his fallen partner. Inky black tendrils were extending out from it, down to the dying creature. As they reached its body, the beast began to thrash and writhe. And then it exploded in a torrent of blood and flesh.

Figgle bent over his friend's face in an attempt to shield him from the worst of the shower of ichor. He could now hear screams of terror from the audience. The goblin turned back to the dark wizard and his blood ran cold and he almost swooned at what he beheld. Standing in what was left of the dead beast was a towering, scaly figure with massive wings jutting out from its back and curved horns framing its demonic face. The wizard had summoned a pit lord.

The demon looked around the arena, a snarl of hate on its lips. It began to extend its wings as if to take flight towards the crowds of people now clamoring to escape but suddenly it stopped. It cocked its head, as if listening to something only it could hear. The demon roared in anger and frustration, and then looked down at Figgle and the still unconscious Iraf. It stretched out a clawed hand and took a step toward the pair. Figgle felt a massive heaviness of fear and despair weigh down upon his soul. The light of the world around the assassin was dimming as the pit lord took another step forward, a look of evil glee in its eyes.

Terror froze Figgle in place as the demon drew closer. As his grip on his concious mind slipped from him, the goblin's last clear thought was to ponder how there was still one tiny speck of light at the corner of his eyesight that seemed to be growing brighter while everything else was consumed by shadows..... ___________________

"You know, it would have served you right if that warden had let the demon eat you before he banished it."

Figgle looked across the table at his friend. "How was I supposed to know he was one of the Venerated?!", he asked, indignation in his voice.

"Maybe that should be a lesson for you! Try not to offend everyone you meet!", Iraf said with a grin.

"Oh, shut up and drink your ale. I want to go to bed and forget this afternoon even happened!", Figgle said sulkily.

Before Iraf could respond, a booming voice behind him said "Baron Iraf!"

The mage quickly stood up from his chair, and spun around. Standing a few feet away were three heavily armed men, all wearing tunics bearing the same sigil, crossed swords on a field of green. The man who spoke was an older fellow, but he had an air of confident strength about him. His face was stern, but his eyes softened a touch when they landed on Iraf's face. "Baron Iraf.", he said again, this time with a small bow of his head that was mimicked by his two companions.

Figgle barked out a sarcastic laugh. "BARON Iraf! Right! And I'm the Queen's Royal Consort!"

Iraf stuttered, "Fendham! What? How? What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

The older man replied, "There will be time enough for explaining the details of our finding you on the journey home, Baron Iraf. We must be on our way as soon as possible. We've already been gone far longer than I had hoped."

"Wait, you really are a baron?" asked an incredulous Figgle.

"No!" exclaimed Iraf at the same time as Fendham gave a solemn "Yes."

"My grandfather is the Baron Iraf, as you well know, Fendham!" declared the irate mage.

"Your grandfather now walks with his ancestors, as does your father," Fendham replied sternly.

Seeing the shocked look on Iraf's face, the older man said in a more gentle tone, "Baron Iraf, your family and people need you. It's time to come home."