Snippet #2687999

"Greetings all, to this weekends Tournament of Champions!"

The crowds roared in response to this bombastic announcement, perhaps a tad louder than Miralda would have liked. He tried to hold her focus while the crowed cheered, doing some last minute image training for possible scenarios she could run into. At this point, there wasn't anything else she could do. She had sharped her sword, polished her armor, and inspected her shield long before she had left this morning. Indeed, her sword had been sharped and polished almost daily since they had reached civilization outside of Tyvern. As the crowd quieted, the announcer continued.

"To kick off today, we begin with a massive melee! This scrum is meant to separate the wheat from the chaff, and will continue until there are only eight men left standing. While killing is strictly prohibited, everything else is fair game! All weapons and armor are allowed! AND NOW, THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! 3, 2, 1, MELEE!"

With that, the arena burst into action. The sounds of battle erupted on all sides, and Miralda herself had to quickly block and dodge so as not to knocked out of contention early. She executed a fighting retreat toward an area near the wall where the melee thinned, and in the process noticed something peculiar. There were a group of people, seemingly 4 men, who seemed to be going the same exact way as her. They were fighting others in their paths, but found quick ways to disengage and continued to move in the same direction she was. When two of them bumped into each other, they didn't start fighting, but rather steadied each other than split apart slightly.

Miralda cursed under her breath. She might not know exactly why they were doing this, but she had a few ideas. More importantly, she had a good idea of what they were doing. They intended to take her out as a group, and she was not at all confident in her ability to take all of them at once. She needed a plan.