Date: 2nd Midspring, 4E 1396
Location: The underground sewer arena beneath Port Kibbe, a brutal fighting pit hidden beneath the city.
Party Goals:

After their dealings at Mr. Scrawble’s house, the party followed rumors of strange activity into the sewers of Port Kibbe. Twisting passages and foul-smelling water eventually gave way to signs painted in blood and a heavy gate leading to “The Arena.” Though uncertain, they pressed forward and soon found themselves swept up in the underground world of gladiatorial combat.

Before the fights began, they passed through the cells and holding pens of other prisoners. It was here they first noticed a strange, cowardly gladiator who shook and stammered, unwilling to fight again. Kain the Blessed attempted to convert him to the Firebrand faith, offering zeal in place of fear, though the man shrank from his intensity. Another notable figure was Silithane, a newcomer trapped in the cells. A fellow adventurer, Silithane had already begun making an impression by standing out from the typical prisoners. She would prove herself in the fights ahead.

The gates opened, and the party stepped into the blazing torchlight of the arena floor. The crowd roared, stamping and screaming for blood.

Silithane was forced into the first fight, paired against an oozing monstrosity the handlers mockingly called “Goopo”—a sentient slime that squirmed and flailed at anything nearby. Rather than rely on brute force, Silithane’s cunning prevailed; with a perfectly timed casting of Sleep, the slime collapsed into quivering unconsciousness, and she claimed her victory with barely a scratch.

Next was Lash, who squared off against a scrawny commoner called Musical Moe. The man swung wildly but without skill, singing disjointed tavern songs as he tried to rally courage. The fight was short and ended predictably in Lash’s favor, though she treated it as half-sport, half-entertainment, playing to the jeering crowd.

The following match tested Fenric Vale, who was pitted against a dangerous foe: a Shadowy Priest. The necromancer called up two skeletons to serve as his vanguard, directing them forward with chilling authority. Fenric ignored the bone soldiers, cutting straight for the priest himself. Though he suffered blows in the process, each of his swipes disrupted the necromancer’s spellwork, draining his magical power with every strike. The duel became a contest of will, and in the end Fenric’s relentless assault forced the priest down, silencing him before his dark magics could overwhelm the arena.

Finally came the marquee spectacle: Ashlyn Blackwood and Magra Greysong were paired as “Blood and Thunder” in a team battle against four trained opponents. The clash was chaotic, steel ringing against steel, Ashlyn’s self-wounding Soulbind magic horrified the crowd as much as it thrilled them, and Magra’s precise crossbow fire cut down enemy after enemy. Together they weathered the onslaught, carving their way to victory in a brutal showcase that brought the crowd to a frenzy.

When the gong sounded and the gates slammed shut, the battered adventurers were herded back to the cells. Victorious, yes, but still prisoners of the arena. The masters of the fighting pit watched with calculating interest, already planning how to use their talents for greater profit. The party, meanwhile, was left to patch their wounds, steel their spirits, and look for cracks in the system that might one day give them a way out.