Du'ror

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Bloody Fingers: Book of Prologues- Chapter Nine

“Morning, champ.” The guard’s voice came from outside the black curtains. “I got some plates for you if you are ready.”

The blue haired bugbear looked up, and then glanced over at the naked human on his bed. He carefully used a cloth to clean the ink from a large quill he was holding before setting it down on his desk. He removed his glasses, and then stood up- lifting his oversized arms above his head and yawning. His massive hands pressed flat against the ceiling as he moved his hips in two complete circles, stretching his back. He tried to ignore all the pops and cracks of an old man’s body. He tried to ignore it… He walked over to the bed and covered the sleeping girl with a fur. Then he walked to the curtain and pulled it back- exposing the metal bars it covered. 

“Sorry, boss.” The large, round human shifted to the side to try and get a clear view of the bed. Finding nothing there exposed to view, he looked up into the monstrous bugbear’s face. “They told me to be sure this was hot when it got to you. Something special they made for your fight today.” 

Du’ror glanced down to a steaming bowl of thick oats, mixed with dark berries, nuts, and what smelled like honey on the top to sweeten the dish. There was a second bowl of cut fruit. A mixture of melon and berries. 

“That one is for your lady friend.” Said the guard, trying for another desperate glace while he took another shuffle to the left to see around the huge blue beast of a man. 

“Thank you.” The voice of Du’ror was deep and resonant. And it was very precise, even with the two large tusk-like teeth that extended from his bottom jaw. “May I have them?... Now…”

“Yeah. Here.” The guard pushed the bowls through an open square that had been designed into the bars. It allowed food and other items to be passed back and forth, without the need to unlock the door of the cell. It was perhaps two or three hands on each side, probably big enough that a young child could squeeze through. “I just heard that you had a present last night from one of your fans. A very pretty one. Don’t get mad at me for trying to see.” His voice sounded like a petulant child who had been reprimanded by a parent.

Du’ror took a bowl in each hand, walking over and setting them on his large desk. He was careful not to disturb any of the drying pages. He could hear the slave girl start to wake and move around on the bed. He turned back to the bars, his eyes locked on the guard still peering in from outside. 

“Carl.” The guard looked up at him. The bugbear was smiling, but there was no joy in that smile. “If I am ever angry at you. You will know… You will know…” The man’s face flushed, and he took an involuntary step back, his eyes dropping to the floor in submission. He took two more steps back before his eyes bounced back up with a little bit of defiance. 

“Eat up, boss.” The man sneered. “You’re gonna need the help tonight. Frightcaller is strong and fast and brutal. He is like you….” His sneer became more pronounced. “…except he’s not an old man.” The guard’s laugh diminished as he quickly walked down the dark hallway, looking back over his shoulder a few times as he left. The echoes of his laughter, however, could be heard in the bugbear’s ears for what seemed like a long time. Du’ror was still looking through his bars into that hallway when the slave girl’s voice distracted him.

“May I eat?” she asked. 

“Yes. Please do.” Du’ror glanced at her for just a breath and then returned to his surveillance of the hall. Carl should not have had the courage to insult him. He was one of the primary guards who were charged with Du’ror’s care. He delivered meals, clothing, and fan gifts like the girl as well as any armor or costumes needed to prepare for the arena above. As such, he was often in arm’s reach. The Game Masters didn’t care if a guard was killed. They sacrificed many sometimes just to herd the beasts and monsters from their cages to the theater floor. Du’ror could easily reach out and strangle the guard, and they would just clean up the mess and have another one bring his food. If the gladiator generated more gold than the cost to keep him, he would never die outside of the arena. And Du’ror had been a fan favorite for almost twenty cycles of the seasons. No gladiator had ever lived longer, killed more, or earned as much gold for the Masters as this old bugbear. So, it just did not make sense. Carl should have no reason to be brave unless he was absolutely convinced Du’ror was going to die tonight. 

The sound of choking made Du’ror turn around to look to the bed. The pretty girl’s face was blue and both hands were at her throat. She wasn’t a pretty blue like Du’ror’s fur. She was a blotchy blue almost like she was already a corpse. He walked over to her. She had dropped the bowl of oats as she struggled to breath. It had spilled onto the fur he had used to cover her. 

Du’ror lashed out without even thinking, swiping out to slap her with the back of his hand. The blow was a hard one. It knocked her entirely from the bed and pushed her hard into the wall. She stopped choking. She had also stopped moving except for some twitching of her arms and legs. When she fell, the bowl and blanket were both knocked onto the floor- making the mess even worse. 

“Look what you made me do!” Du’ror roared. He took a step towards the girl, but then stopped. She was still twitching, but she was already dead. The blow had bent her head flat down against her shoulder and Du’ror could see where her neck had broken. Slave girls were never very durable. They always broke too easily.

“Do not worry. I will clean it up.” His voice had calmed again to that very precise and careful tone. He bent down and began to clean the spilled oats with the fur blanket. Carefully folding everything up inside and then placing it on the floor near the door to his cage. He then picked up the girl’s limp body with one hand, his oversized thick fingers almost reaching all the way around her small waist. He brought her over and laid her on the floor as well, straightening her twisted head to rest it on the folded blanket. He took her arms and folded them up to clasp her hands together, and then he stopped. He looked down at her fingertips. The tips of the first two fingers on her right hand were red and blistered. He sniffed them. They smelled of honey. He opened her mouth and looked inside. There were also blisters inside her mouth and her tongue had swollen. The bugbear giggled, a frightening sound coming from the massive hairy monster. He turned the dead girl onto her side and placed her hands under head on the folded blanket. He pulled her legs up, so she was curled into a sleeping position. He walked over and gathered her discarded clothing, folding it and laying it next to her body. Finally, he pulled another fur from the bed and used it to cover her corpse. 

Du’ror then returned to his desk and sat down. He took a piece of fruit and rubbed it onto his bottom lip- then sat it back down in the remaining bowl and waited. After a few breaths, he sighed and began carefully eating bites of fruit from the bowl beside him as he reviewed his now dry pages. The monster started to quietly hum a tune, but it sounded more like growling than music.

***

A squad of armored guards came down the hallway towards Du’ror, walking in unison. Most of the guards carried large shields. A few others had long wooden poles with small nooses hanging from the far end. This was to be the bugbear’s escort to the amphitheater. Du’ror had fully opened the curtains of his cell earlier, as the young girl’s corpse had begun to stink very quickly- likely the result of the poison. It was not overwhelming but was very noticeable. 

Du’ror was already undressed. He had been stretching and rubbing his muscles for a good while, trying to get his body ready for the trauma he would take on the arena floor. He looked through the group of guards, trying to locate the one he called Carl. Du’ror was angry at him now. He saw him near the back, fidgeting enough to draw a few glances from other guards.

Two of the guards cursed when they saw the dead woman. The others remained silent and in formation. Du’ror was already at the rear wall of his cell, so he slowly dropped to his knees and leaned forward so that face touched the wall. He then stretched his arms back behind him- palms up to show the guards he was not holding anything. Then he remained still. 

“Please remove it.” Du’ror said. “It stinks from the poison.”

Murmurs started from several of the guards before they were silenced. The sound of a low discussion was still evident between two of them. Carl was not one of the voices he could hear. Du’ror remained motionless, waiting for a response.

“Are you sick, boss?” That was Carl’s voice. Du’ror closed his eyes in satisfaction.

“The oats made me dizzy.” Du’ror replied. “I didn’t finish them, but I think the girl ate the rest while I slept it off.” 

More murmuring and it sounded angry. Some of the guards were likely worried about bets they had placed on the blue monster. The thought made Du’ror smile, but he kept his face to the wall so nobody saw his expression. There was more talking between the two in charge. 

“The body will be removed when you are in the arena.” The squad leader had finally made a decision. “The Masters will be informed that you think it may be poison. Perhaps the girl was sent to kill you.” He wasn’t the smartest guy, evidently. It would be unlikely that the girl would have poisoned the food and then later eaten it. 

“Perhaps.” Said Du’ror. “May I turn now?”

“Yes. You need to choose.” The man replied.

As was custom, the guards presented him with two options for both armor and weapon. For armor, Du’ror could choose a heavy plate mail, or a lighter mix of chain and leather armor. The bugbear normally made his choice based on the other monster he would be fighting. Today, he would face a young goliath by the name of Arthak Frightcaller, who was bigger, stronger, and possibly quicker than Du’ror. He was a giant and human hybrid, so he might well be twice as tall as the bugbear. And he looked far more like a human or elf than the hairy blue monster- so most of the crowd would probably support him. Du’ror still had numerous fans who practically worshiped him, but the majority of the crowd had tired of the blue monster after so many years. They respected him and would cheer for him against a traditional monster or animal- but they wanted something new. The goliath killing machine gave them that hero. If Frightcaller killed him today, the Masters would choose the goliath’s future fights with care to give him a long reign as the new arena champion. That would ensure Du’ror would be quickly forgotten. 

Du’ror had never seen the goliath fight or practice, but he knew that Frightcaller had been present for the blue monster’s last two kills. He had seen the huge man watching him from one of the gated tunnels. At first, he had thought the Masters would raise that gate to send in another foe for him- but the second time he realized it was just to give the giant the opportunity to watch and learn. The Masters had done the same thing when Du’ror was rising in popularity, allowing him to watch from the shadows and prepare. Of course, it was a little different in that a bugbear inside the shadow was never noticed. The massive goliath had been easy to see. When Du’ror realized he was to be an offering for the Masters new favorite, he had started preparing himself. He had solicited visits from a few of his superfans and sponsors, so he had seen things from their eyes. In a straightforward battle, Du’ror would most likely die. So, he had made a simple request of his fans to help set things not straight. 

Four guards had stepped forward, each set holding a type of armor. The plate mail gave much more protection but was awkward to wear and would slow him down. Wearing it would probably mean he would die. It would be a long fight, but Du’ror would lose. The chain and leather gave less protection but allowed more movement and quicker reactions. This would at least give him a chance to steal a victory. 

Carl was one of the guards holding the plate mail. Du’ror pointed at it, his eyes locked on Carl. The guards stepped up to the open square and began passing the armor through the open square, piece by piece. Du’ror was taking the pieces one at a time, setting them in order down on the floor by his feet. He would need help strapping them all into place on his body. Du’ror wondered if he could risk Carl not being the one sent into the cage with him. There were two pieces remaining, the helmet and the coif. Carl had the coif… Carl had the coif... For some reason, thinking those words made Du’ror chuckle, a low rumbling tremble. Carl’s face flushed and his breathing was faster. Oops! Du’ror knew his chance for Carl to enter the cage had just been diminished. Carl held the cloth and chain head covering up to the square. 

Du’ror reached to take it, then extended his hand just a few inches further- closing his fingers around Carl’s wrist. Carl screamed!

Some of the guards started yelling. Most stepped towards the bars, a few pushing their control poles into the cell to try and snare the blue monster. Du’ror easily pulled Carl towards him until his face was tight against the metal bars. 

“Now, you know.” Du’ror’s voice was deep and resonant, and very precise. He then screamed a roar into the guard’s face, a horrible animal sound of fury and horror. Du’ror stepped back slightly and yanked hard. Carl’s arm came with him, tearing from the man’s shoulder with a wet ripping and popping sound as the muscles and bone tore free. Carl stumbled back, falling into the arms of his fellow guards. Screams… So many screams from Carl! 

Du’ror backed away a few steps to the middle of his cage, ignoring the poles and nooses that had reached for him. He had the still dripping arm in his hand, but the wet end was down near the floor. He raised it and shifted his grip to his other hand, so he was holding it by the upper arm just below the mangled mess of the shoulder joint. He then used it like a paint brush by rubbing the wet end against his flesh. He drew a line of blood down his face and diagonally across his chest. He then tried to draw a line down the length of each arm, but the blood had run out before he finished so his second arm painting was incomplete. It was disappointing. He then squatted down and waited as Carl died. It didn’t take very long. When Carl’s final moans and crying had stopped, along with his breathing- the guards were also mostly quiet. 

“Why?” the squad leader asked. 

“I think the poison may have affected me more than I realized.” Du’ror answered. “I am calm now. And I have decided I am not going to wear any of your armor today. Blood alone will be my costume, but I didn’t get enough from the arm. Can I come out and get some of that on the floor?”

“Fucking monster.” Was the human’s reply. 

That was also disappointing. Du’ror rose and stepped over to his desk where a lantern was burning. He turned the key, dropping the wick and its light was exterminated- placing half of the cell into darkness. There was still a lantern hanging slightly down the hall which gave some light, but the angle only allowed that to reflect on the far wall. The guards looked into the cell, but bugbears were the original fey boogeymen- experts at hiding in shadows. And like all truly horrifying monsters, they could do some things that defy reality. The guards now understood this, as a huge blue monster from the shadows leapt through a small open square in the metal bars- and began to kill them all!

It was easy, even though there were five guards remaining. The Masters didn’t trust the guards to have anything lethal as they couldn’t risk a gladiator might be harmed outside the arena. And five men with shields and poles could do little against a monster born from the shadows of the Fey Realm. They could only scream and die. So many screams… 

***

The crowd was restless and quite possibly frightened by the screams that had come out of one of the darkened tunnels. There was a constant buzz as thousands of voices spoke and echoed in the hollowed cavern. Arthak Frightcaller, the goliath, was posed at the other end of the arena sand. His oiled skin glistening beneath the chains, leather, and fur that covered his chest and shoulders. His arms and head were left bare. Most enemies had difficulty striking his upper body simply because of his height, so he left his face open to provide a better show for the audience. His abdomen and legs were encased in a variation of plate mail, however. For this fight, he had chosen the heavier armor on his lower body to give him more protection from Du’ror. The giant stood with his oversized great sword planted into the sand at his feet, both his hands on its hilt at his waist. He could have been a heroic statue. The gray skin and dark tattoos looked like etched stone. He stood motionless, just waiting.

The blue monster was still hidden within a shadow. He had smothered all the torches in the tunnels between his cell and the arena. Silently gliding forward as the darkness extended, and then emerging from the shadows to kill the next light- as well as any guards who were unlucky enough to be in his way. He killed these slowly to draw out the screams. Du’ror loved the way the shrieks echoed. And each time the crowd quieted before their collective sound would return to a buzz just a bit louder than before. The blue monster enjoyed playing his ghoulish symphony. He was a champion showman- building the tension and terror until it had a palpable presence. 

He tossed the remains of the last few guards into the lighted sand of the arena, piece by piece. The first toss silenced the crowd yet again. His second started the murmurs. The third raised a few cheers. And then they started stomping their feet in time to his throws, the cheers building with each bloody toss. His last few throws had them screaming in ecstasy. It was methodical. It was simple. It was gruesome. It was that easy for the blue monster to entice the entire crowd onto its feet- cheering for his entrance yet again. Cheering for their champion!

And yet Du’ror remained in the shadows. The Kingdom of Eternal Night existed underground so there were always dark corners. When the world first began to scorch, humans and hybrids had hidden in the dark places to survive. For thousands of years, these people had taken advantage of a network of tunnels and abandoned structures all built below the earth. They had used claw, tool, and magic to expand those tubes- connecting them with natural caverns and subterranean rivers to create a huge spiderweb of interconnected societies which all thrived in the darkness. 

At one time in history when the lands burned, there was only the Kingdom of Eternal Night. And then the dark waters came, filling the caverns as the oceans lifted. The dwarves and the gnomes were the saviors then. These hybrids were incredible builders and engineers. They created massive walls that dammed the dark waters, and sealed tunnels when possible. They drilled drains down to the lava beds when absolutely necessary, with vertical shafts designed to guide the resulting steam back to the surface. But beasts and monsters also needed to escape to the darkness, so death and terror always stalked the Kingdom of Eternal Night. Life in the darkness was wretched, and it warped minds and twisted souls- but life did continue. 

The tribes and societies of the darkness had done more than survive the horrors. They had embraced the darkness and thrived! It was now believed that the Endless Night was larger than all the remaining land kingdoms combined. And the dark city of Shardendrian was the main point which connected these two worlds: the dark and the light. Shardendrian was thought by most to be a vast stone pyramid at the base of a low mountain in Yuk-Rein. But that structure was actually just the dome which covers and protects its population. The city itself was built into a gaping stone maw which dropped down a distance of more than eight hundred men. An entire civilization was carved into the walls of that chasm, with stone steps connecting over four hundred levels- each one descending further into the darkness. Near the center of the catacombs were the arenas. Huge amphitheaters cut into the rock, with terraced seating- drawing spectators from both above and below. The gladiators arena was by far the most popular entertainment of Shardendrian. And today, this dark heart of this black city was trembling, thousands of feet stomping in rhythm and vibrating the stone. 

Du’ror stepped out of the dark tunnel and the uproar was deafening. He was unclothed. His wet blue fur was painted black with the blood of his kills, dripping into the sand. He shook like an animal, slinging drops of blood onto the crowd surrounding his entrance tunnel. He roared! Inciting his crowd even further. On many of the terraced levels, fights had started as fans could resist their bloodlust no longer- attacking those closest to them. 

The goliath had raised his sword from the sand and was now holding it before him in another fantastic pose. Frightcaller than raised one fist into the air, and lightning appeared to strike down onto his hand, the booming thunder silencing the crowd and focusing all eyes back on the giant. Du’ror was disappointed to see that the goliath hadn’t been killed. The lightning’s power was crackling all around the giant’s body, shedding sparks as it traveled up and down his length. And he was growing! The goliath had already been taller than Du’ror by several hands. Now, he truly became giant-born, reaching a height that was more than two large men stacked. He was massive!

The crowd had been stunned into silence. The magic of the goliath’s transformation holding them as surely as if he’d gripped them with his giant fist. He dropped his fist and posed with his sword again, and the crowd erupted once more! People were tearing at their clothes and hair, with blood and foam coating their lips. Screaming. Constantly screaming until no breath remained, then gasping for air and screaming yet again. 

This was actually, too much… Even for the blue monster. Du’ror stepped back into the dark tunnel and squatted down in a shadow, disappearing from view. He sat motionless, just waiting once more. 

It took some time, but eventually the screaming stopped again, and the murmuring resumed. After the last pose, the goliath didn’t seem to know what to do. He tried switching back to his first pose, and then tried raising his one hand again but without the lightning and magic it just seemed contrived. Evidently, he hadn’t rehearsed any routine that would last this long, so he just stood there. In all his prior fights, if the opponent didn’t enter the arena willingly, they were forced out by the guard squadron. The guards would form a shield line and simply push the monster out of the tunnel. Du’ror had already killed his guards. The proof of that was the pile of mismatched body parts that had been thrown out into the sand. The confining tunnels had only been built with one entrance. There were twenty-seven of them at this arena, but none of those connected at any point other than the arena floor. 

Guards could and would eventually come for him from the arena floor itself, but that would only push him back to his cell. This crowd would riot if the fight didn’t happen soon. If the guards were smart, they would bring another fighter out to distract the crowd and buy them some time. But prison guards were hired for brawn, not brain. In this instance, time was the blue monster’s ally. 

Du’ror knew that time was also starting to run out for the goliath. As part of his preparation, Du’ror had asked a fan to research goliath magic. The slave girl had read that letter to him before she died. Frightcaller would not be able to call on the power of his giant ancestors to enlarge him again until that magic had time to grow inside him. So, when that spell expired in a few moments, he would shrink back to his normal size. He was still huge, of course, but would no longer be a giant threat. That stupid joke made the blue monster giggle at first. Which grew into a laugh. Which grew into hysteria. Perhaps it was the stress, perhaps it was all the killing- but Du’ror could not contain it. The laughter came out in great bellows. Tears formed in his eyes, mixing with the blood in his fur. His oversized hands grasped his belly, and he dropped down into the dirt- falling out of his squat. He thought he must have finally slipped into madness, and that thought just made him laugh even harder until he was gasping for air.

The crowd heard Du’ror’s laughter echoing from the tunnel. Frightcaller heard it as well. At first, the crowd quieted to listen, but laughter is truly contagious. It spread slowly at first with just a few, but the laughter fed and grew until you could feel it. Thousands of voices joined the blue monster in his mirth. Laughing at the hapless giant, who stood in one spot just moving from one pose to another. And so, a confused and oddly embarrassed goliath finally decided to do something to stop that laughter. He let out a war cry and charged! The crowd roared back its approval, believing the battle had finally begun.

Du’ror escaped his madness the moment the goliath moved forward, and the insane laughter stopped. He suddenly felt very calm. His favorite weapon was already in his hand. The guards had placed it near the tunnel’s entrance for Du’ror to take into battle. It was a version of a thick quarterstaff that had a heavy iron ball as its headpiece. The wood shaft was about two steps in length, and the mace-like end had killed many, many monsters. The shaft was wrapped in leather straps that had been dried tight to the wood, strengthening the wood and providing a stronger grip. A leather braid extended from near the bottom, that rope was itself a large stride in length. At the rope’s end, a noose was fastened so it could be tightened to the wrist and tether the weapon to its bearer. Against most foes, this was Du’ror’s perfect weapon. The length, when coupled with his oversized arms, gave him a distinct reach advantage in almost every battle. The blue monster slipped back a little further into the shadow, hiding himself from view. 

Arthak Frightcaller, the goliath gladiator of Shardendrian, was an almost perfect warrior. He was massive and strong. He was incredibly quick and athletic. He was one of the most awe-inspiring monsters to ever step onto the arena sand. But he was not the smartest monster. His overwhelming physicality normally didn’t require much strategy. His training had been simple. He attacked his opponents. He killed his enemies. 

The goliath’s charge stopped when he reached the tunnel. Still in his enlarged form- he would have to crouch to reach inside. So, the giant tried to crouch. But he had chosen to wear layers of thick metal plates on his lower body, and that armor hampered his movement. Instead of crouching, he dropped to his knees. The inflexible metal plates covering his knees continued to pull him forward- tipping his upper body towards the tunnel entrance. Frightcaller released one of his hands from his greatsword and reached forward to place his hand against the top of the tunnel entrance. That hand stopped him from falling. It also stopped him from using his sword; or reaching into the tunnel; or even from following the basic instinct of protecting his face.

Du’ror had already gone into his battle rage, a cold and calculating frenzy that needed to feed on blood. He was still hidden in the shadow, his attack prepared. However, the goliath falling to his knees in front of the blue monster and presenting his face as a willing target almost brought the insane laughter back. Almost…

Du’ror threw his arm forward, the heavy end of the staff flying through the air like a heavy bolt from a ballista. It was a critical hit! The weapon smashed into the giant’s face, erasing his nose and destroying his right eye socket- the eye itself falling down onto his cheek. The sneak attack had come out of the shadows, and a dripping blue monster followed it. Fresh blood covered the monster’s face and fur. Large tusked teeth were exposed in a ghoulish smile. And huge hands took the staff up one again- smashing it this time into the giant’s neck and jaw. 

Frightcaller’s storm giant ancestors tried to save him, as his body released another wave of thunder. The force of the blast pushed the blue monster back into the shadows. But that was another mistake. Du’ror sank back into the darkness, his gleaming eyes and shining tusks the last thing to disappear. 

Frightcaller pulled himself up to his feet and backed away from the tunnel entrance. The crowd gasping at his mangled face. The giant’s jaw was now hanging open, ripped from its hinge so it lay flat against his throat. Blood coated his face and chest. His eye bobbed at the ends of grisly wet strings. But the goliath was not dead yet. And he was still an almost perfect warrior with an indomitable spirit that kept him on his feet. A spirit that gave him a second wind, as both his hands wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword- his entire body moving without thought into a defensive form. 

The blue monster leapt again from the shadows, his rage giving him even more speed on this sneak attack as the staff hit flush into the goliath’s chest, snapping ribs and cartilage. Frightcaller swung his sword twice in great arcs, and the glancing cuts did little damage but did help the monster at a distance. The goliath attempted a third attack, stabbing forward and piercing deeply into the unarmored monster’s shoulder, but Du’ror continued to press forward- actually driving the sword deeper and through his flesh. That last press forward brought him closer, and he swung the staff wide- stopping his arm just out from the giant’s hip but still allowing his hand and wrist to continue the weapons momentum and thus striking Frightcaller hard across the back of his knees. The goliath fell forward again, this time not able to release his sword grip in time and so falling prone- his severely damaged face smashing into the cold sand. Du’ror spun his body to the side, withdrawing from the sword and avoiding the giant’s fall. One quick step and he brought the mace-like end of the staff down onto the back of Frightcaller’s head. This final blow cracked his skull open, exposing the white pulp of the gladiator’s brain.

The stadium was in a frenzy! People screamed the blue monster’s name in cadence. 

Du… 

Ror… 

Du… 

Ror… 

The combined voices shook the stone walls like repetitious thunder. And the blood covered blue monster soaked in all the adulation. He stood on the sand with both arms raised, slowly circling in the victorious rapture of his killing. He completed his circuit and looked down at the twitching gladiator. He raised his staff for one final strike, intending to smash the exposed brain into a gooey paste… And then the lights started to extinguish. 

Du’ror looked back up and started to slowly circle again. He began to laugh once more, a deep and resonant growl as he watched his fans carry out his wishes. They were quite late, but he loved them anyway. All around the stadium, people were smothering the huge lanterns with wet furs. Most appeared to have been dyed blue, an homage to their champion! Du’ror had intended for this to happen during the fight, to create shadows and darkness he would have used. For it to happen now just caused bedlam. People and creatures running to escape the arena. Bodies falling from the upper terraces and smashing into the seats below. Screams.. So many delicious screams…

He looked down once again at the disgusting lump of flesh lying at his feet. The Masters had wanted to replace his glory with this pitiful disgrace. They had believed that this disgusting pulp could make the people of Shardendrian forget their beautiful blue monster. Such disappointment… Such disrespect… The Masters no longer deserved him! 

The blue monster stood in the bloody sand. Watching hundreds of people die as bodies fell from above. Tears filled his eyes as the beautiful panorama opened up all around him. He had never been this happy before! As the lights continued to go out- the darkness grew. The shadows reaching out for their beloved blue monster. Du’ror sank into those shadows. Disappearing as only a boogeyman from the Fey Realm could melt away into darkness, his crying eyes and shining tusks the last thing to be hidden. 

It was time for something new…