Soul Reaver sits alone in his cell on the cold, uncomfortable wooden bunk.

Many thoughts run through his head, but all they seem to do is whirl in pointless, frustrating circles, not yielding any solutions to his problem.

And constantly, he feels the press of time upon him.

With gut-wrenching suddeness, Soul Reaver feels reality crumbling away beneath him... the cold, splintered surface of the wooden bench slips away from his grasp. Once more, he sees a web of tangled silk, threads flitting in all directions.

Indistinctly, he sees the spirits of his companions - yet the image fades quickly. And then, for another blinking of an eye he sees a dark, blackened, withered soul, advancing towards a terrible node in the web, waiting to unleash something truly terrible... the soul can only be Khora...

As quickly as it came, reality returns. Soul Reaver finds himself lying on his stomach on the floor of his cell. The cold rock feels somehow reassuring after the whirling emptyness of his visions.

Soul Reaver slowly gets back up. A coughing fit overcomes him as he does so, pain clawing at his chest. The salty, metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

Cursing this vile fate and the endless waiting, Soul Reaver pulls his legs up to his chest, trying to keep himself as warm as he can in the chill cell...

In the audience watching the brutal fight between Tamrissa and Gulver, a somewhat portly OGHRUN in the audience watches with steadly increasing agitation as the two tear each other apart. Suddenly, he turns to an OGRHUN beside him, saying somehting to him and sending him scurrying to one of his officials.

A loud, unmistakable, dischordant note rings loudly across the arena - the Great Horn. Instantly, there is the sound of multilple crossbows being cocked as the guards make certain that the fighters stop as they were ordered. Boos and complaints are heard from the audience, who were beginning to be excited by thethe battle before them. However, this is business, and business from such a respected merchant comes first. He would prefer his wares to remain reasonably undamaged...

Meanwhile, in another arena, the slave warriors are not cowed by the fierce resistance put up by their opponents. Having known only death and suffering for many years, they fight furiously. While Peterson charges headling into the throng of warriors, a large, axe weilding slave wearing a steel helmet attacks him from behind, swinging his weapon upwards to try and penetrate the space between two plates of Peterson's gothic armour. Another warrior hurls a weighted net towards Thisias, hoping to then impale him upon a trident. Zera gains the unwanted attentions of two quick-moving gladiators, one armed with a spear, the other with a sword and shield. Jharm is attacked by multiple foes clubbing at him with cudgrels and slashing with serrated short swords. Though the throng of slaves is thinning, they are not prepared to give up...

In the third arena, the crowd cheers as one of the injured snake-men crouches low on the ground to avoid another blow from Shenba, while the others move apart and form a circle around the warriors. One last snake man stays at the perimeter, offering covering fire by throwing javelins at Yue and Shenba, while the other snake men dart in for lightning-quick jabs, before retreating again. The injured snake-man scuttles to join his companions, holding slightly bruised ribs, but still as agile and deadly as ever...

(ooc: To everone: seeing as Tam's and Gulver's fight is hopefully going to be over in a moment, it might be a good idea to start wrapping up your fights soon too, or Tam and Gulver will be left waiting and bored in their cells while your fights still rage on. )