'The roof of the keep looks as depressing as I imagined.'
Magnus thought, moving across the football stadium sized roof. The entire ground was caked in dried blood, some green and some red.
He stood at the edge of the arena. The lack of wall meant it was easy to throw off enemies if needed, while the mostly smooth surface was running around easy.
'Dodging is probably going to be the easiest way for me to deal with them.'
The three shamans took the opposite corner of Magnus, their eyes firmly glued to him.
The chieftain walked up the the middle of the arena, and like an announcer began listing the rules while looking at Magnus.
"Three rules. You're free to move around and do whatever. You're only allowed to use spells to harm or your enemy. It ends when one party dies."
"Acceptable. So who's first?"
"You fight us three, since we refuse to—" The oldest shaman was cut off.
"Weaklings? Cowards? Scared?" The chieftain cut him off, making a grimace.
