Cheers erupted from the stands as duelists cut each other to ribbons on the arena floor below. Fresh blood splattered down across the fighting rings, and clumped up from the sand surrounding.
With slightly labored breaths, Eva adjusted her stance as she reassessed her opponent. There were a number of scratches across her armor, along with a handful of actual cuts. And her opponent - a tall and lithe Drogar in highly ornate armor - also looked similarly worse for the wear. Her breathing was hard, and her armor was covered with numerous cuts. A few bled.
In her hand was a long beltknife that held tiny serrations all along its edge.
The two duelists circled around each other and adjusted their stances as they searched for any openings from the other.
“You’re not bad,” said Eva. “A littl
