The Arena


A month had passed since Aran’s last show in the arena. People were starting to like him a little, mainly due to the special flair he gave the fail hawks. Ranged fighters are usually frowned upon by the audience, since they do too much running and too little smacking and bleeding, but he was hellbent on changing that.

Coach booked him against Claid and Thoradin. Again. Aran had followed a quite different training course over the last weeks, but now he wondered how he would fare against these two. He had lost some of his bulkyness. Tall and athletic, Aran was once quite resilient. But ever since Claid mocked his spirits, he suddenly changed to a different build altogether. He would spend one whole day speaking with Faerün, and another burning targets to cinders. They got more accurate, stronger, deadlier. Each bird now sported twice its previous wingspan. And to top it all, Katar, who from time to time speaks through Faerün, offered a deal she had just taken herself.

Bhhaaaa, sono.


Aran Aran

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