"We will be going until one of faints,” Luk states. We both walked into the pit. The crisp night air keeps me sharp. I stare up at the night sky, constellations and magic fill the sky. I’ve never understood why one would use the sky for battle. Some things should be left peaceful. I hear wankhompers croaking in the pond nearby. I make sure to keep my breathing full to make sure I have plenty of energy. We both stand on other sides of the pit. My longsword on my left hanging at the hip. The sheath shines in the moonlight, the gauntlet on my left hand feels warm. There must be plenty of magic in the air tonight. There is a surplus of magic in the air tonight, your enemy will be especially strong. Use caution, as he said he is a patron of my brother.

The voice seems much clearer tonight. I realize I have been standing here for ten minutes studying Luk, he uses a stance that reminds me of Muay Thai and Kick Boxing. His skin blends in with the darkness. However, his crimson tattoos reveal his location. They seem to be glowing, and I hear a faint hum coming from them. I draw my sword and activate my gauntlet. Taking the guard, “Posta di dente zenchiaro mezana”(middle boar’s tooth guard). Luk starts charging towards me, I just notice that where he was standing there was a burning pool of blood, possibly his. As he barrels towards me the blood turns into wings behind his back. A flail and buckler appear in his hands. I pause for a second stunned at the beauty of it, as well the absolute dread I feel, I was told stories as a child of a man who would do the same. He slaughtered my village, leaving my great grandfather and great grandmother alive to tell the tale. I regain focus as the crisp of is polluted by the smell of blood. I charge and we meet in the center. Bringing my sword up into wrath position to guard his swing. The flames singe my braid. Luk returns to the ground. The wings shift into tendrils, the tendrils dive by my shield. Before they can return to him, I cut them in half. He winces and he swings his flail I parry it with my buckler. There isn’t a clang like what would normally happen, then I realize there is no noise except our breathing. As we continue our dance of a fight our breathing synchronizes. Sounding faintly like music. Luk’s flail dissipates, eventually turning into a falchion. Our blades meet in the middle. We circle each other, both of our eye's darting trying to find a weakness. All either of us need is a single square inch area and we could get a strike. I see in his eyes he has spotted one. Probably my rear calve. He strengthens his guard. I let him start to move his falchion into a Krumphau position, before he can I Zucken and cut his wrists he smiles. Fire is spilling out his veins. He looks weaker but the fire is moving towards my hand. I drop the sword and grab a dagger in my boot. I swung it towards his open hand from where his shield disappeared. He simply flicked his wrist and red energy blasted out from his wrist. Making too sure to focus on the crisp air. It smells more and more like a slaughterhouse. Before I panic, I return to my hand-to-hand fighting stance. I learned it from an ancient martial art made by two lovers. One was an orc tall, wide, and strong. And a halfling small, nimble, and quick. They created something that any body type could excel in. Luk strides toward me he throws me a sword, it feels perfectly weighted. He brings his falchion up. I parry it before he can swing. This was merely a distraction as he turns around and back kicks me in the chest. Taking the air out of my lungs. As everything fades to black, I try to remember the crisp air, as the blood smells leaves as quick as it arrives.

Stolen story; please report.

Once I wake up, I see Luk casting something on me and I feel rejuvenated. I see Aesir and Qysik looking after me while Luk is busy, they look worried. Once they see me open my eyes Qysik slaps me. “Don’t scare us like that you Nome Fungus. If you pull stuff like that, again I will send you to a wankhomper ranch,” Qysik demands. He then laughs at his insult and heads back to his tent. Aesir apologizes for the slap and heads back to his tent.

I try to thank Luk for the healing. He interrupts me, “no, thank you for the fight I haven’t seen combat like that since I led a group of druggies to fight a giant scaled monster. It was a muscle man and a barbarian named Bob.” He then walks off reminiscing on his home. I start to head to my tent, before I do though I go for a run. The air refills my strength. By the time I make it back to my tent it’s morning.