Sul... wen... Sulwen. It had been a while since you were called anything other than 'slave', 'bitch', or 'bird-brain' depending on how juvenile they're being. But your given name is not easily forgotten, and, surprisingly enough, may be one of the best things to remind yourself that you're more than a slave. You'll hold onto that name until you're finally free, one way or another.
It was hard to determine what the crowd thought of you; perhaps they were excited to see how you fought, but it was just as likely that they wanted to see you get ripped to shreds by your opponent. Watching a rare thing like yourself get demolished is quite the perverse hobby. Perhaps its your wings or rather light frame that leads to you looking quite majestic as much as it makes you frail. That, combined with your long blonde hair and violet eyes that shimmer in the light causes you to look more breathtaking than many could ever dream to become. That case would be even more if you had managed to be hygienic in the recent past. If your hair wasn't a tangled mess and you were wearing something other than a tan-colored tunic, you'd be more than stunning.
But perhaps you should be thankful that they sent you out here with clothes at all; it'd be quite hard to deal with everything being revealed to all the spectators present today. You didn't have time to dwell on that thought as a loud voice began to ring out, "And here we have it, folks! Our first contestant of this year's initiation!" said the masculine voice filled with confidence and mirth. The crowd responded quite energetically to his rousing introduction, "Quite a special one she is! All the way form the Gladewell, this Avariel may be more than she appears! You'll have to keep a close eye on her, folks! But enough about her, let's focus on who she'll be fighting~!"
As the man exclaimed this, the door you were facing began to open. There was a figure in the shadowy door frame that hesitantly took a step forward. Stepping into the light, it was revealed to be an elf woman with short, light brown hair. Her eyes darted around her surroundings, fearful of everything: the crowd, the announcer, and even yourself. It wasn't hard to determine that her situation was much like your own; her clothing was exactly the same, if not a bit more worn. And a hint of blue could be detected under her chin, most likely the same magic that binds your own ability to speak.
"And this pretty little thing is perfect for the first fight, eh? Frail girl versus frail girl? Oh, it's perfect, just don't expect them to start making out anytime soon, you horn-dogs! This, after all, is a blood match!" this caused an uproar from the crowd, "You folks might even be looking at the future champion of Voreth in the arena right now. As.. unlikely as that might be, of course, haha. Now then, enough of me yapping, get to the slaughter!" he demanded.
Almost on cue, the elven woman's face became contorted in fear as she began to bite her lower lip. Searching around on the ground, there were several different weapons available to use if one desired. Shortsword, mace, battleaxe, leather shield, a few daggers, a bow, and a few arrows were all scattered across the arena. As her eyes looked towards you in a panic, her body slowly went down to pick up one of the daggers that were near her feet. It was obvious that she had no choice in this matter, much like your own.
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[Grab a Weapon]
[Try to appeal to the elf]
[Custom Option]