Viconia lounged around on a patch of soft pillows in the pleasure chambers, recovering from her last session. It wasn't a busy night today, what with the gladiatorial fights starting later that day, so most of the Ssinss d'aerth were relaxing as well. The scented incense coming from some of the private rooms did tickle her nose, though she never cared for its distracting properties during sessions. She chuckled when she thought about her friends... how all of them were so squeamish to even look at the floor number of the pleasure chambers.

'Boo says NO GO!' brought a smile to her face, while Keldorn's deep blush whenever the subject of Sinvyl's clothing came up. Imoen stuttered whenever it was mentioned. In fact, the only ones who made frequent use of the chambers were herself and Laska... or so she thought.

Yesterday, Viconia had caught Dynaheir slipping out of the chambers. Of course, Viconia had thought this to be quite the opportunity and announced her presence. Immediately, Dynaheir had stuttered and stammered, claiming she had been looking for Laska. Sadly, the ruse had been shot to hell when a male Ssinss d'aerth had run out after her and had yelled across the hallways that she had forgotten one of her undergarments. She'd never forget what had happened next. Dynaheir had just walked to the male, took the undergarment, stuffed it in her pocket and turned to Viconia, only to say 'Hey, I did worse things when I was a vampire'. After that, she had winked and went back in again with the male in tow.

Viconia took a drought from the free wine. It was a think, sugary and invigorating drink, just what she needed. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed a pair of Drow had just entered the chambers to be greeted by Sinvyl. Both were female, one was tall, older and wore the clothes of a merchant woman. The female beside her was very young, hardly 20, and was slender for her age... she was also quite nervous.

It took only a few moments for Sinvyl and a male to take the younger girl apart and guided her towards one of the private chambers. The poor thing was trembling all the way.

Viconia shook her head and resumed her lounging until she noticed that the merchant woman had sat down next to her.

"Your daughter," Viconia asked.

"Indeed," the merchant woman said. "Today was her 20th birthday. And seeing she wasn't making any efforts on her own, I figured it was best if I used the Ssinss d'aerth to overcome her shyness."

"20 is somewhat late for a Drow to start her Sexual Awakening," Viconia replied.

"Quite so," the woman spoke. "Still, I would have preferred to have used a local pleasure chamber in our own city of Menzoberranzan. I only sent my caravan here to trade rothe-hides and magical items, but this sudden war trapped us here."

"I thought I recognized your accent," Viconia said cheerfully. "I'm from Menzoberranzan myself!"

Immediately, Viconia realized her mistake and groaned inwardly as she mentally kicked her own butt over and over again.

"Truly?" the woman smiled. "It's nice to meet someone from home. What trade house do you serve?"

Viconia thought carefully. "My family served House DeVir until it was destroyed," she said. "After that we moved to Ched Nassad, and I fill the family coffers by hiring myself out as a mercenary."

"Ah, a mercenary, I see," the woman spoke. "Abandoned the sinking ship?"

"S...something like that," Viconia sighed. Deciding to change the subject, the Drow turned to the woman. "Well, I hear your daughter is quickly getting over her nervousness."

The woman listened, obviously hearing something of what was going on in the private room and smiled.

"Say," Viconia offered. "Are you busy? Shall we discuss the changes in Menzoberranzan over the last 100 years? I have not been back since."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Good," Viconia smiled as she beckoned for her to join in one of the private rooms. "Male?" she called over to one of the relaxing pleasure artists. "Please join us."

"Where were you?!" Imoen hissed as Viconia wormed her way to through the crowds towards her seat. "Come on, Laska's fighting! I saved your seat!"

"Sorry, sorry," Viconia said sheepishly. "I lost track of time. I met someone from my home city."

"Okay," Imoen said. "Catching up?"

"Oh, she made her position quite clear," Viconia grinned as she sat down. "In fact, there were quite a few positions... all very clear."

Viconia chuckled at Imoen's flush. "I fear we wore out the poor male, so we had to continue on our own... It takes a long while to cover 100 years worth of changes to Menzoberranzan, you know?"

"Errmm, fight please... Fight now?!" Imoen stammered.

"It's alright," Viconia chuckled and briefly squeezed Imoen's shoulder. "I spend much time in the pleasure chambers because I want to learn the advances made in the Drow erotic arts since I've been away. I have a lot of catching up to do."

"I cannot believe this society... rampant sexual excesses and bloodsports. Isn't there at least SOME desire in this diseased society to look beyond the merely carnal for more spiritually fulfilling activities?!"

"Will ye bloody shut up, ye daft pansy?!" Korgan roared to Keldorn while ripping meat off a leg of rothe. "The fight be startin'!"

"We Drow," Viconia snickered, "are not interested in basket-weaving, Keldorn."

"Hmmpf," Keldorn replied.

The place was packed, mostly with commoners and guards grateful for a distraction. From all the ten balconies, spectators were looking down into the arena. Vinvyl's staff were frantically serving drinks and officials were handling the betting. In the meantime, Laska's party had been giving very good seats on the second floor looking down directly into the arena.

As the crowd swept to a roar as the first gladiator entered the ring. He was a male Drow with a short white mane, wearing a leather armor and brandishing a malicious looking warscythe. With a cry, he heaved the scythe up high much to the appreciation of the audience. Immediately, the magically enhanced voice of Vinvyl sounded through the cavern. "Good evening, dear guests," she spoke. "Our first contestant in our qualification-rounds today is Rivven the Butcher, a longtime scout of the mantlecaves of faraway Rilauven. This warrior has battled many foes, relying on brute force and daring movies. He fights with a magical scythe taken from a surface adventurer!"

The crowd let know of their appreciation. Second to enter the ring was a tall, tattooed female with a roguish grin on her face. "The challenger is a mysterious female known as Laska Levorirr, an experienced adventurer from Ched Nassad. As leader of the elf-bane band, she has slaughtered many of our vile surface-kin in her short but productive life! She fights with two longswords and relies on speed and technique."

While the crowd cheered, Laska snickered when she looked at her opponent and returned to the entrance, moving out of sight.

"What's she doing?" Jan asked. "Don't tell me she's backing off? Backing off like my aunt Livia, I mean. She backed away from everything. She backed away from dating because of the pains of childbirth. She backed away from living in a house for fear of being evicted. She backed away from eating anything more than lettuce for fear of catching food poisoning. She backed away from turnips for fear of getting turnip beetles burrowing through her brain... She backed away from sleeping for fear of never waking up again... eventually she backed away from living and jumped down a cliff... then she backed away from dying by becoming a lich. I never really knew what ever happened to her, but I know she never touches turnips again, so I don't really care what happened to her."

"No, no, no," Imoen grinned as Laska came out wearing her regular vest and pants, much to the appreciation of the crowd. "She took off her armor because she knows she can take that guy easily! She's not backing off... she's showing off."

A wicked grin appeared on Laska's face while the spectators cheered for her. Rivven was anxious to begin and took his scythe in both hands. A low-roar escaped his throat... and still, it was odd that such a deepened cry could emanate from such a relatively scrawny creature... until his cry was suddenly replaced by a violent oooooffff after Laska had kicked him in the stomach.

Before the Drow could react, Laska twirled around her axis and elbowed him sharply against the jaw, causing the Drow to crash into the cage surrounding the pit, much to the approval of the crowd.

"First strike goes to Laska Levorirr," Vinvyl announced cheerfully.

"GO LASKA!" Imoen cheered. "WWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Rivven was clearly enraged now, stormed forward and swung his vicious warscythe at Laska's head. Unfortunately, the Drow wasn't very fast on his feet and the warscythe wasn't the most speediest of weapons. Laska easily caught the blow by crossing her blades to catch the scythe's hilt before it hit. Making use of her opponent's confusion, she jumped up into the air, slammed both her feet into Rivven's chest with sheer power and completely the back flip by landing on her feet flawlessly. While she looked at her downed opponent, she nonchalantly tossed her long braid, which had slid over her shoulder during the flip, back with a single flick of her chin.

As Rivven scrambled up again, Laska twirled her blades in each hand, toying with her opponent, mocking him.

The crowd loved it and Laska loved the attention. Normally, her fighting-prowess was never seen by an appreciative audience, and the elf was quite charmed by the cheers she was receiving. But then, as Laska turned her gaze towards the very upper balcony, she saw HER... Phaere, the magnificent Drow she had helped to rescue earlier. She was wearing that same revealing armor, that same velvet cape, that same mysterious smile. And she was looking straight at her. No doubt she had come down to watch her fight... and more, seeing. Phaere leaned over the balcony, causing her bosom to strain inside her platemail.

'Oh...' Laska smiled that dreamy smile. 'How I wish I could wrap my hands around those luscious...'

Laska was thrust back into the real world just in time to notice a glint of metal approaching quickly. With a yelp, the elf dropped on her back and rolled away just before the blade of the warscythe slammed into the sandy floor of the arena. Immediately, Laska recovered by ramming her heel into Rivven's face, sending his head reeling back while blood spurted from his nose. Rivven seemed dazed and grabbed his forehead while holding the scythe with the other hand.

"First blood goes to Laska!" Vinvyl announced cheerfully, much to the excitement of the crowd.

Laska again raised her blades to the sky.... just before storming towards Rivven. Rivven saw her coming and raised his scythe, but was unprepared for Laska's next move. Instead of attacking, Laska dove to the ground, rolled over the sand and sliced her blade straight across Rivven's hand. Rivven screamed in pain and dropped the scythe to cradle his now maimed appendage. He wasn't given much time to mourn his lost fingers, however. Laska sheathed her blades and started to rain blow after blow upon Rivven's increasingly battered body until he had been driven into a corner. Time and again, her fists rained on his ribs. Then, Laska took out her blades and started twirling them dangerously close to Rivven's torso.

"I yield!" Rivven shouted in panic. "I yield! You... you are the stronger one, female!"

Laska looked up again and saw Phaere smiling back. The gorgeous Drow kissed her hand and blew it towards Laska, accompanying it with a wink... and a suggestive flick of the tongue across her lips.

Something in Laska just went numb, her vision became a haze as she turned her attention to her... her prey. Her smile twisted into a mad snarled as she twirled her blades even faster. She heard Rivven's heart racing... She realized that he feared her and feared her more than anything he had faced before. And she loved that...

"I yield!! NO! I YIELD!" he shouted, but Laska could not even hear the words. His screams of agony was all she could hear as unforgiving steel tore through flesh.... again and again and again. Blood spurted from deep wounds in his chest and abdomen, pooling onto the floor. Rivven sank to his knees and gurgled his dying words while holding his belly, in a vain attempt to make sure his internal organs actually remained internal.

Laska laughed almost maniacally as she lopped off Rivven's head with a single slice of her blade, and before the head had even begun to fall, she impaled it to the cage through the nose. Then, she looked at Rivven, his dying lips still struggling to form words, as if he had not yet realized that he had died. The elf grinned, hearing the chilling laughter of the Slayer as if it was standing right next to her. But she knew she no longer need to fear the Slayer. She was death... and how could death fear death?

Looking at Rivven's still twitching headless corpse, she felt... different. She had killed before, many times in fact, but this kill had awakened something in her...

The haze left her sight and she was confronted with a quiet crowd murmuring amongst themselves. From the whispers, she learned that deathmatches weren't unusual, but not so early in the contest.

"Urmm, um," Vinvyl stammered. "I, um, well, Laska won, obviously. All hail Laska, winner of the first qualification round and the prize-purse of 1000 gold. Come back tomorrow, folks, for more deadly combat and two new opponents."

The crowd exploded into a roar of approval, with the notable exception of Laska's mostly horrified friends, who looked down up the elf, who had been careful to avoid any bloodsplats to land on her, in utter disbelief. Even Viconia seemed surprised at Laska's harsh actions, while Imoen had grown white as a sheet.

But to every rule, there were exceptions : "OY, OY! Well done, lassie, well done! HAR HAR! Chopped 'is bleedin' 'ead right of! HAR HAR HAR HAR! Did ye see the bloody look on 'is dumb face? HAR HAR! Great show, lassie! Great fight!"