Cerenthiel's page

She smiles at the erinyes but there is no warmth in it. I think we were pretty clear, we will take the imp, even if it is slightly used

"One imp, slightly used. Here's hoping you can control it better than its previous owner."

A pair of erinyes guards lower the cage's chain and attach the cage to a custom two-bearer litter which they bring to the party and set down before them. Inside the cage sits a large raven with a clever expression.

"Ah, so you've come for your prize. Was it the sword you wanted? Or perhaps the jewel? Do you care to try your luck again?" asks the erinyes mistress of the games from behind her clipboard.

The little piggy eyes narrow and focus on Shrec.

"That I suppose is up to the pig." says the Cerenthiel.

Leona will leave the paperwork to the others before going to see if the imp is where he was said to be. If possible, she will address the imp to learn what it thinks it's fate will be. She does not, however, concern herself with costuming.

In a small globular black iron cage hung from a thick ceiling chain a big rat tried in vain to squeeze its head through the bars. After a blink the rat is revealed to be a shaggy black boar whose form fills the cage to bursting. With its head jammed against the bars and its legs now outside the cell the boar kicks frantically at the air. The effort only succeeds in rotating the cage.

Next to the cage is a macabre display case which contains a pair of man-sized sable-feathered wing, a huge diamond, a barbed and faintly-glowing longsword, and bit of quartz with what appears to be a silently screaming soul within.

"These are the possible prizes for the next bout. You are allowed any one of them. Are you certain your team wants a second-hand imp?"

Chandu gives a little sigh, Of course, well, I suppose this was inevitable at some point. I assume if we kill our opponents there will be no repurcusions for us?

"Of course. Just sign here, and here and here. And then these are two copies of the same. Please note that the bodies of any deceased losers and any possessions previously upon them when they entered the arena are forfeit to the management. Did you require someplace to change into your costumes or apply make-up?"

Let me know what if any prep you are taking (aside from what is listed above). I'll assume you are doing this after filling out all the forms and before the portcullis to the arena floor is opened to allow you in. Was anyone actually going to look at the prize?

The devil consults her notes. "You are scheduled to fight the Eumenides, fighters from our Lady's Legion." At this Cerenthiel shakes her head very nearly sadly. "And it is just one fight though the survivors of your team, if any, are welcome to fight again, if able. There is of course some paperwork for you to sign."

"Tholvinis?" Cerenthiel says consulting her notes. "The imp? Yes. He will be in one of the bird cages along that wall. There.

Riverside Arena

"Fascinating.... You mortals wish to fight to the death do you?" says the alabaster skinned fallen one from behind her clipboard. The level of emotion registered on her too perfect features is similar to that shown by marble. Combined with the small flickering flames in her eyes and the suffering around her it is almost too much to bear.

You are in one of the preparation areas beside the Gallery of Prizes barbed, black iron cages of all descriptions line the walls or hang from chains strung along the ceiling in this huge gallery. Erinyes devils and monstrous hellhound keep watch as hopeful gladiators or their owners look at their possible winnings.

There's a loud scream and thunderous cheer from the arena floor that shakes the entire complex. Cerenthiel's doesn't change. but her raven-colored wings ruffle on her back almost of their own accord. She draws a decisive line across her notes with a barbed stylus.

She looks up with those smoldering eyes and calmly says. "I can stencil you in immediately. What do you call yourselves?"