Roas never was a fan of crowds. Despite his status, he always preferred the company of trusted friends to that of complete strangers. While this caused problems on occasion, it was a relatively easy issue for him to solve. Upon arriving in the arena with very little context to work with, he found himself amidst a crowd of intimidating size. It did not take any uncanny powers of deduction to learn where was however, with the brash voices around him loudly proclaiming relative facts about why they were chosen and why they would be the ultimate champion. Discerning why he was there was also a simple task. Roas was a powerful warrior, and he knew it, though he could clearly see himself in a lesser league compared to most of the other combatants. Figuring out who had chosen him for such a bout was the most difficult thing about his situation, one he did not bother to find out.

The warrior quickly made his way away from the large group, even as the mass of people seemed to grow larger with each passing minute. While it certainly was not the first time he had been forced into a new world, there were so many oddities in this one that he could hardly comprehend it all. Men made of steel, weapons made of light, and tools of an unexplained, explosive nature. He saw what looked like dragons made of iron, and horses with no head or legs, running along the ground of wheels or even in mid air. This place was extraordinary, but too much for him to take in all at once.

He found it difficult to navigate the sparsely grown forest, but the landmass did seem quite a bit smaller than most of the islands he had been on before. Through the trees he could see an area covered in snow, and with the alternative being a desert on the opposite end, Roas figured the cold air might help him think a bit better. His idea would not hold out for long, though. A short time after he entered the frostscape, he heard the overwhelming cheers and shouts of the mob he left behind. Whatever he was here for, it seemed like it would be starting soon. What he was not ready for, was the sudden change of scenery. As the edge of the white orb passes him, Roas ducked down and covered his eye. When he stood up, he was no longer cold, and a fragrance unlike anything he had ever known entered his nostrils. He opened his eye and gazed upon the golden fields that now surrounded him.

It was a sight to behold, and frankly he was not sure how to handle it. The entire landmass was different. What sort of magic governed this world? Roas dropped one knee to the ground and rested his elbow on the other, holding his chin with the same hand as he compiled his thoughts. He heard more shouting from the mass, and he honestly couldn't tell if it was excited or enraged. It did not matter too much for him, perhaps he would be able to wait out the entire ordeal, though it did not seem likely. Eventually, he started hearing the sounds of combat in the distance. It had finally started. Roas scratched his head with his free hand, managing to not harm himself with his gauntlet as he did. In the distance he could see some warriors approaching, and he was far from concealed. A bright silver mass amidst a golden backdrop, he would be easy to spot. Taking a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh, Roas kept his eye and ears open, staying as alert as he could be.

"Well...here we go, eh?"

Dropped in a field of tall grass, a brilliant scent assailed his nostrils upon entrance. Tarvin, the one who summoned him, had placed him in the most boring location. Tall dry grass, how great. And it stinks too, what is he supposed to do here? "For the love of-" There's not too much to describe about this location. A huge tract of land, barren and featureless aside from the grass. In the distance a few battles raged on, a man was being chased by a group of other warriors. Honestly it was kind of amusing, to think that he wasn't eligible for that cash prize. What a sour note to begin on, right?

There was a sizable man in the distance, not as far away as the first group of people he saw. Even at length he could see the greatsword that adorned this warrior's body. One of 'those' guys. You know the ones. The guys who over-compensate for somethin'-somethin' by lugging around an unwieldy sword.

To his knowledge, from what he was informed, Flint was supposed to cause as much havoc and destruction as possible in as short a period of time as possible.

"Peachy-Keen." The familiar's body began to flicker, like a blowtorch being sparked by a starter. Like a blacksmith's kiln being pumped by a bellows, his body began venting thin gouts of flame about two inches wide each. They emerged from his shoulders and fingertips, licking outwards in a wild unpredictable pattern. Igniting the grass around him, it quickly spread down and out. The growing flames around Flint began to draw the eyes of warriors around him, some sat down to watch. While others outright ran away from the spirit, they didn't want to interrupt what was about to happen.

With a scow on his face he began walking towards Roas, closing the distance between them and burning grass behind him. "Hey! You! Big guy with the big sword!" Flint lashed his hand forward, pointing at Roas. "Yeah, you! I'm here to murder people, and you're the guy who's close enough to me! I don't want to go out of my way to find someone's ass to murder. So how about you come to me, and I'll boil you within your skin."

"Well, wasn't that just a fine showing. Gods and their showing off. I'm sure Samuel was watching that too. I bet he had a laughing fit." Ethelfleda shakes her head after all the showy opening ceremony stuff is over, then begins to walk away, pushing through the thick crowd of warriors that has gathered to participate. "All sorts and sizes here, aren't there?" She mumbles to herself, pushing the wide brimmed hat to sit farther back on her head so she can more clearly see. Many of them turn to glare at her, sizing her up. 90 percent of them are grizzly looking alien species. Many of them probably think that they can beat her. That's fine with her. She's not the most intimidating force. A six foot tall woman with wooden legs isn't going to be inspiring fear in a good many of these particular combatants, even if they should be a little more cautious around her than some other people. She's not afraid of any of them though, so she can't expect them to be afraid of her, she has to admit.

"Alright, which of these would be the best to fight in? Hmmm." Ethel scratches her chin, contemplating which one of the mysterious landscapes to head off to. She feels a tapping on her shoulder, but when she turns, there's no one there. "The hell? I know I didn't imagine that."

You're right! You didn't! Good job Ethel. Ethel whips to her right, she knows that voice. Oh she knows it real well. And right there in front of her is a barely visible spectre, taking the appearance of a great lion man. Sup? "Samuel!? Oh jesus christ. What are you doing here?" Ethel sighs and grips her brow. She knew he'd be watching, but she didn't think he'd be watching THIS closely.

I'm simply here to observe. Emmaneul is currently busy with some superhero thing, Maxwell and Sweeny are sitting around with their thumbs up their asses, so I thought I'd keep an eye on my favorite lady. Also, go in that one on the right.

Ethel shrugs her shoulders and begins to walk. "As you wish, Sam. Thank you for the close observation. I will do my best." Ethelfleda enters the sphere, the specter of Samuel following closely behind her.

As she enters, the smell of saffron blasts her in the face with the force of a grenade. "Oh gods, that smell. One of these instances I'm glad I don't have a stronger sense of smell than a normal human." Behind her she can here Samuel have what sounds to be a nose heart attack. Chhrrt Bbbbbrbaaaagh! Oh lord, I dont have that luxury. *sniiiiiiiiiiiif* I suppose I should say now that I'm only visible to you. You know, being on my energy wavelength and all that. No one else can hear me either. Ethelfleda laughs outloud. "Oh, that's fine. I relish any moments of seeing you in a compromising position I can. I'll make sure to tell the others about this." Samuel glares at her, but its one of those humorous glares.

The smell of smoke also hits her after her nose gets somewhat used to the saffron. She turns and sees a fire in the distance. "Ehhhhhhhhhhhh. I ain't feeling that right now." She turns and heads in the other direction, wondering who she'll get to fight in such a picturesque location.

Turning his head to get a better view, he gazed towards the source of the voice. While the sight surprised him, it made much more sense than some of the other people and creatures he had already witnessed battling amidst the field. Pushing against the ground, Roas slowly stood up. His armor clanked together as he moved, the thick sound of metal against metal giving away nearly every twitch he made. The warrior faced the aggressor of fire and spoke with a stout confidence.

"You know, from a tactical standpoint, yelling at your opponent is not the best way to initiate combat. Under normal circumstances, I would call you an arrogant dog for grossly overestimating your knowledge about your target. I hate to assume, but I am sure you know nothing about who I am and what I am capable of, and to say you will boil my insides on the sole grounds that I am the closest person to you makes me assume you are not as strong as you say. That or you are so overwhelmingly powerful that no creature could ever stand a chance of touching you, but if that were the case, I feel like you would've just done it without the need to announce your threats."

With that, Roas reached up with his right arm and gripped the upper hilt of The Dragonslayer, lifting it slightly to detach it from his back, swinging the massive blade forward to point at Flint, raising his left arm to grasp the lower handle as it reached the front. The blade had a slightly gold sheen to it, despite the actual steel looking worn and aged. He held the blade firmly with the precision of nearly two decades of practice. The blade was more than just a weapon to Roas, it was part of his very being, and he knew how to use it as an extension of his body.

"My name is Roas Drasle, World Famous Dragonslayer and Mercenary Commander. I'll give you one chance to back down. I don't want to fight you, but I have the tactical advantage in this battle I will not hesitate to utilize it to its full extent. What's your choice?"

Although Miss Aldamain didn't have many friends growing up in the temple of her homeworld, during her moments of isolation she was able to enjoy the gorgeous scenery that had surrounded her. This field was of no match so was hardly worth mentioning at all. Did she feel homesick to finally leave her monotonous life that she had grown accustomed too? Or perhaps this place really was that drab. One would think she'd be excited for these changes, but her face didn't show it. Her narrowed eyes and serious expression made it look like she was some angry villain, as evident by many of the individuals nearby doing their best to avoid her, taking one look at her and then quickly darting away for, apparently, fear of their safety. That was probably for the best for the weaklings to know that they were outmatched so that they wouldn't waste their time and lives fighting against her. Even if they all had teamed up her victory would have still been decided before the battle began. Some continued to stare at her for various reasons as she passed by but she ignored them all, searching for...well...maybe she'd know it when she saw it.

That's when she locked eyes with another woman making her way over in her direction, not fleeing or avoiding her like all the others. Miss had a feeling like she was an even match, perhaps. Interesting how she'd run into someone of her power around these parts so soon into the competition. Miss was sent to the arena to serve as entertainment, so perhaps it would be proper to fight in such a match, unless she was overestimating this woman from a hunch. Well, she wouldn't know for sure what she was capable of until engaging in combat with her.

"Welcome, warrior. My name is Miss Aldamain, and perhaps, if it's okay with you, we could engage in a match at our full strength," she spoke up after bowing. Bowing to her was second nature due to those she was interacting with the most having such a culture. She didn't want to offend someone she didn't know, even if they would still be fighting each other to the death anyways.

In her right hand her spear was drooping lazily down into the grass, not out of trying to conceal it but she didn't yet bother to make an effort to defend herself. She could get ready at a moment's notice and assumed that this lady wouldn't all of a sudden attack without confirming their battle. Perhaps she was naive due to lack of interaction with others, but she assumed this was how things would work out.

A few people continued to watch her but from a safe distance. Apparently they were more interested in seeing a battle between two people of higher skill then taking part in their own fights, at least for the time being.

"Hey, shut the fuck up about tactical advantages and how you're better than me." The mouth on this guy, talking like some big shot. Looks like a boring rank and file soldier in some other man's army. Oh, wait. Familiar. Can't really judge people on being rank and file. Flint grimaced, lighting his hands up with intense flames. "I'm in no mood for some punk ass who thinks that because he's got a big sword that he's talented enough to kill me. Tactical advantages don't mean shit at the boiling point of carbon."

"If you think your big sword, which is probably made out of iron, can even touch me. Go ahead, swing it. I'm tougher than steel, baby!" Okay, maybe not tougher than steel. But at least hot enough to heat it to near boiling point. For a moment, Flint actually forgot the words that he was gonna say next. His flames dimmed for a moment and the feathers that adorn his body all wilted slightly. The flame and feathers popped back up once he remembered his line. "Oh, and I'm closer to a bird than I am to a dog. You filthy ape-kin."

Roas took a moment to size up his opponent, making a mental list of everything the warrior knew about him. From his physical form, to the way he spoke, even the brief pause of the flames when he seemed to lose track of his thoughts. The Mercenary took note of as much as he could, planning his strategy as the fire spirit spoke. He paused for a moment when the spirit was finished, still ready to react should his plan go awry. Roas spoke once again, calm and commanding.

"For the record, I said nothing about being better, that was all you. If I might ask, what are you in the mood for? I was minding my own business, last I checked. You are the one who picked the fight. Perhaps you should calm down a bit, friend, you're burning all of these lovely smelling reeds. It's a shame, really."

The Warrior stood, his face stern and focused on every movement his opponent made.

Ooooooo, well look at how polite this one is, hmm? She seems to fit right in line with you Ethel. Samuel chuckles, his large, ethereal frame floating just a little too close to Ethel's right ear to be not awkward. Course, that's how he does things. He's fully aware. Even (Especially) his own acolytes aren't safe from Sam's sense of humor. Course, they've all gotten used to it at this point.

Ethel brushes Samuel away from her ear, sighing softly before lighting up her face with a large grin. Her voice belts out with a resounding ring, full of vigor and conviction. "Well met fellow combatant! This is the kind of greeting I expect from everyone, though Im sure you'll believe me when I say most are not so honorable in their greetings. How could I answer with anything but a resounding yes? I would be delighted to duel with you." Ethel, after this, bows to her new rival in turn.

"My name is Ethelfleda Confodite. I accept your challenge, Miss Aldamain." Ethel states formally, to make it official. "I must say, if you have the confidence to challenge me outright like this, you must be very confident in your own skills. I very much look forward to seeing what you can do. And, if you'll give me a second to prepare, we can get started."

Ethel takes a deep breath and tenses her entire body, quaking with the exertion. A thick gas begins to seep out of her body's pores, drifting quickly to the ground, smashing the saffron with its density. The gas continues to fill the space around her, expanding to a radius of five feet from side to side, and above. Ethel stays clear in the center, with the gas swirling around her in a clockwise spiral. The saffron, and stench of, is now thoroughly grounded under the thicker than tar gas. Surprisingly enough, as thick as it is, it does not impede sight of Ethel, or bar one from hearing what she says. Gas continues to exude from her pores after the cloud stops expanding, filling her hands and covering her body. It gets denser and denser, condensing down into what appears to be a greenish steel fencing saber, kite shield, and thick armor. It also condenses around her prosthetic legs, equipping them with a covering of energy, working down into the joints and gears, allowing them to keep up with her once she really starts moving.

"Fully equipped! Thank you for your patience, Miss. It's a little hard for me to fight without any weaponry, I'm sure you can imagine. Plus, it helps for me legs to not rip themselves apart." She sheepishly looks at her legs. "Damn things have ruined fights. Not many people want to hit a cripple." She shrugs and hardens her face. "No matter! Somehow I feel you won't have that problem, so have at you!" Ethel readies herself, in traditional knightly fighting stance, though her training allows her to fight in many ways that aren't so traditional.

Samuel pisses off to about 10 feet away. He knows well enough to not interfere on this one.

"What do you think I'm in the mood for, you putz? Didn't you pay attention to the big opening speech? Or are you one of those assholes who ignores everything because you're on a higher horse? I'm one of the Agents of Tarvin, you prick." Flint's flames licked outwards, growing to their peak and receeding repeatedly. The ground beneath his feet charred black to the heat, crunching under his weight. "The whole reason I'm here is to kill people, cause havoc, and then when everything's said and done I get sent home with rewards of my own."

Flint scowled, letting fire overtake his face for a moment. "And you, well, you have the misfortune of being in my way when I decided to join this venture. Yes, I'm here for the express purpose of killing, maiming, destroying, and general misconduct. I'm not a nice person, I have no class, I don't enjoy talking to you aside from mocking you. And finally, I'm ready to kill you. I'll even let you go first."

With that, Flint wadded up some saliva in his mouth and spit on the ground between them. "I think you'll find that sufficient enough insult to fight me, eh?" His face was polluted with a sickeningly smug grin, crossing from ear to ear and warping his entire visage. "Don't you think so?"

By the looks of the crowd it appeared like not many people were gambling on the one with the missing legs. Fancy that. Unlike them, however, she sensed a great power within this other woman, a power that was soon revealed as gas began to emit from within her body. She didn't know exactly what the gas was capable of so decided to continue keeping her distance for the time being. As it turned out the gas was able to form into objects that Ethel equipped herself with, but maybe the gas could do other things as well?

To test out the physical attributes of this newly upgraded opponent she grabbed onto one of her needles in the pouch using her left hand and then flung it at the woman's head at a speed of 2,000 miles an hour. It would kill most people instantly as it tore clean through the cerebellum, so if this woman was able to dodge or block it then she was certainly as interesting as she had assumed. If not then she at least got a painless and swift death.

With a shrug, Roas frowned slightly. "Not really, I'm a Mercenary, not a knight. I've spit on my fair share of weeds too. Honestly, I don't know what the Hell is going on. Didn't stay for the speech, don't know what a Tarvin is, and as far as I can tell, you can't really die out here, so I guess I can't fault you on your behavior." He stretched the muscles in his neck by tilting his head to each side. "So it seems I might as well make the most of it. Do me a favor and don't hold back, I don't want to kill you too quickly by accident."

With that, the Warrior kicked off the ground and charged forward, swinging the sword down to his left side as he ran. When he would reach his target, Roas would plant his feet firmly against the ground and attack with a wide, horizontal strike at waist level, aiming the tip of his blade only inches past the fire spirit's body. If the attack connected, it could very well separate the chest from the abdomen completely.

"How the f- Hell with it. If you ignored the big important bit at the beginning then you're worthless." The armed warrior charged at him, swinging his blade directly at Flint's midriff. A ridiculously obvious attack, only a rookie would fall to that strike. Flint took three leaping backsteps from Roas, sliding across the charred ground. Flint wasn't certain whether or not Roas would follow through with his charge, even though he had swung a blade with two edges can still be swung back with deadly force. The spirit began backpedaling, making sure to put some distance between the swordsman and himself.

With a good gap between them, Flint would be able to think up some sort of plan to make sure this guy didn't walk away from this fight alive. Flames licked outwards from his knuckles, reaching their full length away from his body. Straightening out into thin almost white flames, they flicked against his legs and the brush around him. The familiar's hair began to ignite, slowly covering the top of his head with the same nearly white hot flames. The same happened to his shoulders and knees. "Come on, soldier boy, I'm looking for a challenge. Not a rookie!"

With the flames enveloping his body, he rushed forwards. Arms extended to his sides, cleanly burning the nearby reeds. Flint had come up with the perfect idea on how to deal with this swordsman without taking a single hit. Though, it might not be perfect, he just thinks it's perfect.