image [https://i.imgur.com/O61uMhU.png]
West Arena
On the middle of the western side of the Board lies the West Arena. One of the Four Arenas, the West Arena specializes in battle royales.
Will was once again standing in a small, empty room. It was, in fact, completely identical to the waiting room he landed in when he was at the East Arena. This time, however, Will was a little better informed, and knew that he’d be forced to take part in whatever event the arena had in store for him.
Which, according to the message, would probably be a battle royale.
Is that even the proper pluralization for battle royale? Shouldn’t it be battles royale?
“Both forms are considered acceptable, actually.” The speaker was the embodiment of what Will would have thought about had he heard the word “barbarian”. He would have made Conan feel inadequate. Fafhrd would go to him for workout tips.
Which just made the linguistical statement even more incongruous, in Will’s opinion.
“I must admit that I, too, would have preferred the term ‘battles royale’. Alas, ours not to choose the right, ours but to stand and fight!”
The man looked at Will expectantly. Will, on the other hand, just stood there blinking.
After a few seconds, the barbarian visibly deflated.
“Just once. Just once I’d like to have a contestant who actually knows their classics!”
Um, sorry?
“Never mind!” the barbarian shook his head, the looked back at Will. “Welcome to the West Arena, contester! I’m Quentin the Barbarian, the event manager for the bronze tier in this arena. I can see that you’ve already been to one of our sister arenas. What name are you known by, contestant?”
Wait. Quentin the Barbarian? Really?
“What’s wrong with Quentin? It’s a name with a long tradition of barbarianing! Barbariating? What would be the proper verb for being a barbarian? No. No! Not getting into that rabbit hole now. We have a match in just half an hour, and I still have some contestants to visit. So, your name, contestant?”
Will the Wombat.
“Will the Wombat! What a fantastic name! I wish I had a name that could alliterate with ‘barbarian’! Come, Will the Wombat! I’ll take you to your entrance!”
Wait, please. I’d like to know a little about the type of match and the stakes before I go.
“Naturally. You will be entering a ten-person battle royale. No teams, and the last person standing wins. Each contender antes ten XP, with the winner taking the pot, and fifty Bronze Arena Tokens.”
Thank you. I’m ready to head in. Lead the way, Quentin.
“The Barbarian!”
Lead the way then, Quentin the Barbarian.
Quentin (the Barbarian!) lead Will down an up-sloping hall, for about twenty meters. The hall ended at a T junction, with more halls leading to the left and right, and a single door in front.
“This is your entrance, Will the Wombat. Wait inside until your introduction, please.”
Will acknowledged the manager’s words, and walked into the small room. Once again, he was waiting in a bare room with a single archway leading out. Peeking out of the archway, Will saw a large sand circle, about two hundred meters across. A tall wall circled the arena floor, with rising tiers of sitting places looking down from above. Just like the East Arena, spectators were few and looked fairly bored.
Ten archways were located in the wall, each one flanked by banners in a different color, and each one presumably leading to a room just like the one Will was waiting in.
Given some time before the start of the battle, Will checked his status screen.
Name: William Jackson
Race: Wombat
XP: 265 (10)
Health: 115/115
Mana 132/132
Stamina 130/130
Innate abilities
Dice Roll (2)
Skills 8/10
Name
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Type
Tier
Level
Unstoppable Force
Cavalry
Basic
3
Harvester
Harvest
Expert
1
Claw Proficiency
Beast
Basic
1
Least Cure Wounds
Healer
Basic
2
Heavy Armor Proficiency
Defender
Basic
1
Mana Pool II
Resource
Basic
1
Stamina Pool I
Resource
Basic
1
Shock Ball
Mage
Advanced
1
Boosts
Dungeoneer
Special
Unique
1
Arena
Special
Unique
0/1/0/0
Attacks
Claws – lesser (least) piercing damage
Bite – lesser piercing damage
Charge – minor (slight) bashing damage (Slow aspect)
Equipment
Bronze claws (front claws)
Wombat Breastplate of Lesser Life
Wombat Sallet Helmet
Wand of Vinegar Stream
Inventory
4 minor healing potion
1 Claw Proficiency skill shard
1 Pickle Dead skill shard
500 copper bits
10 Bronze Arena Tokens
1 Cloud Corn Ear (terrible)
2 bottle of Wild Sage oil
Status effects
Wounds
Minions
Pickled Wild Sage
Let’s see. I think the ten XP in parentheses is my ante for this fight, which means I probably can’t use them. But I should probably use the rest, since this isn’t going to be an easy fight, with nine others. I should start with shock bolt, since it leveled down when I merged it. Which means that I’ve lost half of its damage per cast, since I’m back down to one bolt. That’s a hundred XP to get back to level two.
Will was happy to see that getting Shock Ball to level two did, in fact, return the second bolt when using the bolt option. Even better, it increased the damage on ball mode by one category, and gave burst the ability to knock enemies away.
He also spent a hundred XP to boost claw proficiency to level two, giving his claws a level of armor piercing.
The only other thing I can do is boost Slow by one level. No idea what that gets me, but the XP isn’t doing anything for me when it’s just sitting there. Let’s see now…
Improve the intensity to lesser. That should be a decent boost, for its price. Nothing else I can do now.
Wait, why is the Pickled Wild Sage still listed? Didn’t I leave it behind in the tundra Space?
Unfortunately, Will had no time to think about what the continued presence of his pickled minion on his status sheet meant, since Quentin (the Barbarian!)’s voice started echoing across the arena.
“Welcome, spectators and contestants, to the West Arena! Home of battle royales! Today’s bronze tier fight is about to start! Before I start introducing our valiant contestants, I would like to go over the rules of this fight. In this battle royale, there are no teams. Ten contestants enter the arena, and the last one standing wins! All skills, innate abilities, and equipment is permitted, but no consumables. The winner will gain XP, Arena Tokens, and eternal glory! Now, are you ready to meet the contestants?”
A few, somewhat enthusiastic, affirmations came from the seated contestants. Quentin (the Barbarian!) didn’t let the lack of applause phase him, and continued his introduction.
“From the red entrance, we have Gwendolin Brightfeather, Bronze tier contestant from the North Arena!”
From one of the archways, somewhere to Will’s right, walked a proud looking bird. Will was far from an expert bird watcher, but he thought she looked like some kind of seagull. Bright, metallic looking feathers lined the edges of her wings, and a small crossbow was tied to her chest.
“From the orange archway, we welcome Robert, just Robert! A newcomer to the arenas, this is Robert, just Robert’s very first appearance!"
To Gwendoline’s right, a large chimpanzee walked out into the sands. Dark grey leather armor covered his black fur, a bandoleer full of knives across his chest.
One after another, Quentin (the Barbarian!) called out the ten gladiators. Most of them were at the bronze tier of at least one, if not two of the arenas.
A duck wearing a wizard’s robe and holding a wand in his bill.
A golden retriever wearing plate armor, with a long lance attached to his side.
A turtle, with what looked like a miniature catapult mounted on her shell.
An eagle, carrying a single large rock.
A swarm of hornets, which was still introduced as a single entity for some reason. Whatever equipment they (she?) might have had was too small for Will to see.
Will was next, and as he stepped on the arena floor, he could feel the eyes of every other contestant looking at him, trying to assess his skill and danger level.
After Will came a beetle. He was as large as Will himself, and didn’t look like it had any gear, other than its natural chitin armor.
“And last, but not least, we have another bronze tier contestant from the east arena! A little bird whispered in my ear that this last contestant had already met one of our other contestants on the field of battle, and had lost. Will this be his chance at vengeance? Please, dear spectators, give a warm welcome to the West Arena for Jeremy, the All Devourer!”