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OP
OP
BrokenDoll
Moon
- Joined
- May 24, 2025
Kelda stood proudly atop the pedestal on the outer rime of the arena floor. A warrior of the Vinn, fierce, her face painted for battle. She'd earned the right to face the Dungeon, and Goddess willing, to challenge the Demon Queen Mithandras to single combat, besting her competitors in the games, doing her village proud. She spent her youth training for this moment, and now, six weeks after reaching majority, she was here.
Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a three-strand braid. She stood tall and proud, coltish, her chin held high, her blue eyes piercing and betraying no fear. Like the 99 other gladiators, she was beautiful to a fault; ugly did not enter the Dungeon. She was dressed in supple leather, expertly tailored, highlighting every graceful curve of her sinuous body. The neckline plunged far lower than Kelda approved. Her midriff was bare, exposing a toned stomach. The principle of form over functioned reigned supreme here, where survival had as much to do with seduction as it did skill at arms. There was a dagger at her hip. Everything else: food, water, better weapons and arms, magic charms and potions, all the panoply of war, would need to be scavenged from the dungeon itself.
100 pedestals ringed the vast chamber, one for each gladiator. Behind her, a high wall and the stands, teaming with spectators. Briefly, her face shown on the shimmerscreens above. Scrying drones hovered nearby, invisible and silent, recording her every move, the moves of every gladiator. Their victories, their defeats, all broadcast to the 12 Kingdoms.
Kelda focused on the arena floor. About thirty paces ahead was a ring of wooden chests, one for each gladiator. Her gaze settled on the one closest to her. Would she find supplies hidden therein? A better weapon? Armor? A magic potion? Or would it be trapped? Every decision, every step, bore life and death consequences.
Closer to the center she saw what appeared to be a ring of weapon racks on small islands surrounded by dark water. In the center of the arena stood a shimmering portal; the exit from this level to the next level of the Dungeon. In the gulf between would be unseen dangers, traps, hidden enemies. There would be some sort of time element, some sort of pressure. There always was. Risk versus reward. Still, she needed food, water, a better weapon. She needed to survive, so that she could fulfill her destiny. She was Kelda of the Vinn, and she was mighty.
A gong sounded. Kelda tensed, her muscles coiling, knees bent, her eyes narrowing with intense focus.
When the gong sounded a second time, force field surrounding her pedestal dropped and she sprang forward, feet pounding against naked stone. She rushed forward, racing toward her first challenge, her first test.
The chest.
She could pass it by. That was the safe route. The Dungeon did not reward the cowardly. She needed supplies. But was it worth the risk? She had to make a choice. Would she approach the chest, or would she avoid it and move on?
Does Keldra:
A) Open the Chest?
B) Avoid the Chest?
Vote Here!
Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a three-strand braid. She stood tall and proud, coltish, her chin held high, her blue eyes piercing and betraying no fear. Like the 99 other gladiators, she was beautiful to a fault; ugly did not enter the Dungeon. She was dressed in supple leather, expertly tailored, highlighting every graceful curve of her sinuous body. The neckline plunged far lower than Kelda approved. Her midriff was bare, exposing a toned stomach. The principle of form over functioned reigned supreme here, where survival had as much to do with seduction as it did skill at arms. There was a dagger at her hip. Everything else: food, water, better weapons and arms, magic charms and potions, all the panoply of war, would need to be scavenged from the dungeon itself.
100 pedestals ringed the vast chamber, one for each gladiator. Behind her, a high wall and the stands, teaming with spectators. Briefly, her face shown on the shimmerscreens above. Scrying drones hovered nearby, invisible and silent, recording her every move, the moves of every gladiator. Their victories, their defeats, all broadcast to the 12 Kingdoms.
Kelda focused on the arena floor. About thirty paces ahead was a ring of wooden chests, one for each gladiator. Her gaze settled on the one closest to her. Would she find supplies hidden therein? A better weapon? Armor? A magic potion? Or would it be trapped? Every decision, every step, bore life and death consequences.
Closer to the center she saw what appeared to be a ring of weapon racks on small islands surrounded by dark water. In the center of the arena stood a shimmering portal; the exit from this level to the next level of the Dungeon. In the gulf between would be unseen dangers, traps, hidden enemies. There would be some sort of time element, some sort of pressure. There always was. Risk versus reward. Still, she needed food, water, a better weapon. She needed to survive, so that she could fulfill her destiny. She was Kelda of the Vinn, and she was mighty.
A gong sounded. Kelda tensed, her muscles coiling, knees bent, her eyes narrowing with intense focus.
When the gong sounded a second time, force field surrounding her pedestal dropped and she sprang forward, feet pounding against naked stone. She rushed forward, racing toward her first challenge, her first test.
The chest.
She could pass it by. That was the safe route. The Dungeon did not reward the cowardly. She needed supplies. But was it worth the risk? She had to make a choice. Would she approach the chest, or would she avoid it and move on?
Does Keldra:
A) Open the Chest?
B) Avoid the Chest?
Vote Here!