Trevor watched the monks bring in the table with weaponry. "The name is Trevor," he said. "Trained in combat. I stopped taking orders from anyone, but I will do what is needed." He understood enough of what Dula had said that he was motivated to complete this task. Both death and staying here weren't options. He glared at the table with weapons. How he loathed to have been put in this position, but if Dula was correct and something old and evil was awaking, he couldn't turn his back on that. If going back to his peaceful life meant he'd have to bond with some beast, so be it.

With his eyes on the monks he picked up a spear and held it in his hand to test the balance, before making a thrusting motion in the air. So far the monks hadn't moved, although he assumed they were part of his test. "I don't feel like I have anything to prove to you or anyone else," he stated. "I know my worth. But if you insist, if there is another warrior present who has to prove his or her worth, let us battle it out and then I will present myself to the eggs. It will save you one test."

This will be the last time we talk. I am but a ghost of my former self. A fragment left in the sands of time. Once this is over, I will pour my spirit and energy into that of my child. It will give her the strength to hatch. So please, ask your questions. I will answer for what I can remember. Though, my memory now fails me in many ways.

The dragon stretched itself out. Its body was impossibly long, as if it stretched into the distant horizon. When the sun hit the blurry scales just right, it created a rainbow effect in the water. It seemed content to just rest and listen.

---

Mother Dula narrowed her eyes when Trevor spoke his name. Perhaps she expected him to continue with some title or family name. Perhaps she was unsatisfied that he would present himself with such little care for authority. She chose not to speak on whatever negative thought danced through her head at that moment. He was ultimately more tolerable than the brat she had just dealt with. Though, he seemed just as hot headed.

The monks looked to Mother Dula for approval when Trevor made his request. She paid little attention to them, more focused on watching Trevor test the weapon. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the gall of this man to question her authority. Not to mention the bravery, or perhaps stupidity, he showed to offer to fight one of his peers. Those that had been called to the island were the best of the best in their fields. A fight among their peers was surely going to be a struggle. That said, with any luck, he would lose. It would be one less brat she may have to deal with.

”Very well. It will save us all some time. Number Nine, please step forward. Present yourself.”

The elf who stepped forward was shocked when she knew who to call for. She was a tall woman, even among the elves. Muscles rippled as she moved. A trained warrior if ever there was one. Her hair was black and tied out of her face. She wore chain armor on her limbs and a well crafted metal chestplate. Her eyes were a cutting silver. She stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Mother Dula. ”High Priestess Dula, I am Cova Reinard of the Queens Guard.

Mother Dula nodded and Cova stepped forward to the table. The monks dispersed at her approach. Without hesitation, she snatched up a long sword. Cova tested its weight and scanned its edge. Then she turned to face Trevor. Her face twisted into a smirk. ”A pity I will have to fight human scum.”

”At the sound of the drum, you will begin.” Mother Dula’s voice filled the room. She lifted her hand. A moment of tension… then:

“As much as I wish otherwise, I fear this is all too real. What number did you draw?” After Gwyn's disappearance Muzkane couldn't help but agree with the Halfling's sentiments and fears. "Y..yes, it does seem I was wrong."Number 5, you?"" Her next question really caught him of guard as it was something that had been plaguing him, did Hinrew know? "I like to think my teacher had no idea, but...Well we can't be sure can't we?" He balled in fists in anger while saying the last part and looked away from his conversation partner.

Muzkane was honestly somewhat relieved when the next person stepped up as it hopefully would allow him to think about something else. Judging by the table this time it would have to be a fight or at least a demonstration of combat skills. Hearing "Mother" Dula call for someone else to come forward confirmed it would be the first option.

Between the human and the elf Muzkane found him rooting him for Cova at least until she spoke. Muzkane wasn't about to cheer Trevor on or anything but he hoped that he would win.

@Arty Fox@JewelSerket@Loksfjoer

“A pity I will have to fight human scum.”

Trevor watched his opponent pick up a long sword and he thought about changing weapons - he was equally skilled with a sword as he was with the spear - but he decided to keep the weapon he had in his hand. He narrowed his eyes at how she addressed him. “The good thing about this fight is that there will be one less elf,” he stated, his voice as cold as the look in his eyes. He meant those words and he vowed to wipe the smirk off her face, as he had done with other elves before.

The two warriors circled around each other. While he hadn’t personally fought against the Queens Guard, he had heard stories about them. This was not an opponent to underestimate. Judging by her smirk, she was doing that enough for the both of them. It wasn’t the first time he stood opposite of an armed elf, the question was how often someone from the Queens Guard had faced off against a human. That could be an advantage. Trevor held the spear in two hands, tip aimed at the elf.

Cova was disciplined enough to not go in with her sword held high. Instead, she stepped in and quickly to the side a few times to test how quickly Trevor was. To overcome the lengths of the spear she needed to be quicker, which she deemed no problem as elves were stronger and more agile than humans could ever dream to be. She scowled, humans thought they were so good, but they were animals at best.

Trevor kept his eyes on Cova, she was nimble and he had to take that into account. Enough of this, he thought. Let’s get this over with.
There was one advantage he had with the spear and it was time to use it. He made a series of thrusting attacks and Cova either used her sword to deflect them or stepped out of the way. If he could keep her at spear length, all he needed was to find an opening to stab her.

Cova jumped up and raised her sword, bringing it down in a swift motion, but Trevor turned his body and the sword barely missed him. Cova’s frustration was visible on her face, but she recovered quickly and moved her sword towards Trevor. At the same time, Trevor brought the wooden handle up and hit her in the head.

The blow dazed Cova long enough for Trevor to step back and use the length of the spear to his advantage again. He entered a series of quick stabs, moving forward as he did and Cova was forced to step back. One stab almost hit and Cova hit the spear to the side, then quickly placed her feet on the ground for another jumping attack, but after seeing one Trevor recognised the movement and when Cova was in the air Trevor angled his spear to stab Cova. The tip deflected on the armour, but it also hindered her jump and she couldn’t finish her sword blow from above.

Determined to win, Cova ran forward, using her longsword to hit away his spear and with a fluid movement brought the sword above her head and moved it down. “Die, human scum,” she hissed.

As the spear was pushed to the side Trevor bent his knees and threw his body forward, using his shoulder to push Cova off balance and he put a foot behind Cova’s to trip her. As she fell on her back, Trevor readied the spear, looked at her face for a brief moment and thrust the tip down, piercing her neck. The idea to spare her had only briefly crossed his mind, but he had dismissed it as quickly as it had come up. He had seen the look in her eyes, she intended this to be a fight to the death and he had no problems killing a damned elf. He doubted she would have taken the defeat and to avoid her jumping up and continuing the fight, it was just easier to end it. And, as he had said before, it was one less elf who could bother him.

As Cova gurgled, Trevor turned to Dula, turning his back at his dying opponent. He glanced over his shoulder to see if she wouldn’t try some foolish desperate last move, but her strength quickly faded as her blood spread over the ground.

“Are we done?”

Rothros couldn't help but feel a surge of disgust rise from somewhere beneath the lower end of his fin. Not just the smell, but also the taste of blood touched his senses even though it was merely a psychosomatic reaction, but to the memory of very real events. Having been a soldier, he had had to bathe in other people's blood quite literally. Undine, humans, elves, ... even his own at times. The ocean watered down everything for everybody, but also exposed everybody to everything. The liquid of life had many nuances to its taste not only among different species, but also among different individuals. There were those in the Undine navy who claimed that they could even taste whether somebody had already been sick before his or her violent death, but Rothros had never believed those stories.

There was no need to speculate about either of the two combatants' physical condition though either. Both of them appeared to be formidable fighters, but Rothros silently cast severe shadows onto what of Trevor's attitude had become visible as the man stepped forward. He did not agree with it, but honestly he did not agree with the monk's decision making either. Weren't the dragons supposed to make a choice ? So Dula either had some sort of otherworldly connection to the dragons in spite of them not even having hatched yet, or she had taken things very much into her own hand. The imaginative thought of the dragons, once grown up, lambasting her for eliminating contestants even before any of them had had any chance to make a judgement almost caused Rothros to smirk.

The only good thing about this fight was that the prospect of two individuals constantly bickering at each other while trying to overcome decades of hostility was effectively ruled out. The Undine soldier watched with a scowl and with his arms crossed in front of his breast. Somewhat inadvertently, the gesture also helped to make his giant muscles even more blatantly visible.

Now do me a favor and call in someone to clean this up with dignity!

Rothros had seen too much action to feel much pity for the elf, but the question whether Cova would have started this fight on her own had Dula not called her in still lingered in his mind. Hopefully they would take proper care of her body. What kind of omen would it be if the one adventure to save the world from this war would start with one of its worst traditions, leaving the dead to the crows ?

"Hh!" Leith's eyes widened and ve drew ver hands close into ver chest when Gwynn vanished. That wasn't-- that couldn't-- How had that happened? Why had that happened? Ve wracked ver brain for some record of things like this. It has to be the dragons, Leith concluded, and took a breath to calm venself. If it was the dragons, then it was intentional, which meant that Gwyn was probably okay--after all, it would be counterproductive to get rid of everyone when they passed the test.

And it was time for the next test. Leith watched intently as the man, who introduced himself as Trevor, made his way to the table, then made his challenge. "Careful," ve whispered quietly as the two of them picked up weapons and the elf, Cova, slung an insult in Trevor's direction. "Sharp." Though that was probably a stupid observation--wasn't that the point of weapons, to be sharp?

Very sharp. Sharp enough to take a life. Leith's eyes widened in horror and ver stomach rose into ver throat as the pair fought, and Trevor brought his spear down on the elf's throat, killing her and sending blood all over the ground. Ve stepped back, horrified, eyes fixed on the slick patch spreading out from the elf's still body, dark and wet and filling the air with a sharp metalling tang.

The certainty that ve was going to die here settled even more firmly around Leith--of the two tests, both had involved some sort of fighting, be it single combat or a sneaking monk, and being raised as a scholar did absolutely nothing to help Leith handle those sorts of situations. What good would written words do against something as physical and threatening as a blade?