"Biologora Daustrakana is a very appropriate name for my . . . new creation," Ivan Zagad muses. The mage, standing in his customary spot on the high balcony, has turned from staring impatiently at the empty arena to address Torgal Westran. The arena master grunts and nods.

"In an ancient tongue of my people, it meansss. . . one life from many deathsss. My experiment gained its ssstrength from the pain and death of others."

"Hmmh. Like a vampire," murmurs Torgal.

"Not. . . quite. My daustrakana are born mindlesss and formlesss. . . when they feed on the life force of the dead and dying, they gain the powersss of the creature on which they feed. . . My daustrakana can feed on the ssstrength of a giant, the poison of a. . . ssserpent, or the deadly gaze of a basalisssk. . . the possibilities are endless." The mage caresses his staff as he speaks, scaly fingers clawing into the sable wood. "The only limit to their power is the quantity of life-force that I can obtain. . ."

"Ah! The blood!" Torgal nods in sudden understanding.

"Sssss. . . what?"

"This is why you've been requesting the blood of the fighters in the Pit, isn't it? To feed it to these experiments of yours?"

Ivan Zagad nods hungrily. "Yessss, of course! Unlimited death and destruction, Wessstran. . . you have that in your Pit. The blood of the mighty warriorsss who fall in the arena, only to rissse again. . . to further feed my daustrakana."

"I hope you know that Sharvista is disgusted with you, mage."

"Really?" The lizard-man grins suddenly and bends close to Torgal, reptilian nostrils twitching. ". . . are you?"

"No." Torgal smiles, gazing impassionately into the eyes of the dark mage. After a few moments, the two men break the stare and turn away from each other to wait in silence.

"Tonight, we offer you a very interesssting combat!" booms Ivan Zagad, raising his staff to greet the crowd. Scattered applause echoes through the hall and quickly reverberates into silence. "Our combatants tonight are Shanna Romm. . . Calathra Tealeaf. . . Flegmar the Ravenous. . ."

Calathra Tealeaf enters quickly through the eastern gate, waving her sickle to the cheering spectators as she takes her place at the south edge of the arena. The halfling pauses and chants a few words of magic, surrounding herself with a familiar protective glow.

Flegmar takes only moments to enter. The tall, cruel-faced troglodyte leers at the crowd, then leans back to rest relaxed against the wall beside the gate.

Shanna Romm steps through the western gate while the catcalls directed at Flegmar are still dying down. "The lawless shall be punished!" she cries, pumping her fists at the crowd. She follows the display with a quick prayer to her god; as she finishes, she directs an obviously hostile glare at Calathra.

"They fought each other a few weeks ago, as I recall. Looks like Shanna holds a grudge," Torgal mutters. But now it is Ivan Zagad's turn to be uninterested. The mage draws a small scroll from beneath his shadowy robes, unrolls it, begins to chant. Instantly, a shimmering dome of force surrounds the entire arena. Then, as Ivan Zagad's spell takes shape, a smoky doorway appears in the center of the Pit. Through it steps-- crawls-- a strange, twisted shape.

". . . and a fourth participant! Biologora daustrakana!"

The beast is vaguely man-shaped, six feet tall and two-legged, with four clawed arms. Two great, bat-like wings sprout from its back and extend to their full length as the portal closes behind it. Its skin is night sky-black, and it looks like a standard sculptor's rendition of a demon.

"Their blood shall be ssspilt. . . for your pleasure. . . now. Begin!"

Instantly, Calathra raises her sling and twirls it about her head. She lets fly a bullet straight at the daustrakana. The stone hurtles toward the creature and misses its mark by several feet.

But the daustrakana takes notice. The great beast roars in anger and charges at Calathra on four of its limbs, madly waving its remaining two arms. It leaps at her as she stands against the southern wall, and its clawed arms slash cruelly at the small halfling, seeking flesh. Calathra smiles grimly, pressed against the southern wall-- and the daustrakana's claws are stopped, as by an invisible barrier, one foot from her head. Meanwhile, as Flegmar stands back quietly incanting a spell, Shanna Romm circles around the melee, searching for an opening.

Finally, she cries, "Power! Destruction!" And her body comes alight with a holy fire, and she leaps at Calathra with eyes full of hate.

A flying kick connects with the Calathra's side, and the fire from the monk's body is suddenly transferred to the halfling's in a great flash. Calathra cries out in pain and lashes out with her sickle through a cloud of acrid smoke, but she catches only air as the monk flies past her and away. Suddenly haggard with pain, she starts to follow Shanna, but she is forced to stop and bring up her weapon as the daustrakana's claws bear down on her once more.

Now Flegmar finishes his spell, raises one clawed hand and points to Shanna. A ray of crystal emanates from his pointing hand, striking the monk in the chest. Strange light surrounds her, and a similar light seems to leave her body to meet Flegmar's magic. Shanna cries out in pain and alarm as the light vanishes-- and her movements seem slower now, less coordinated. The craggy-faced troglodyte grins cruelly and waves one hand. As Shanna and the onlookers watch, a hole opens in the stones beneath Flegmar's feet. He steps through it and disappears.

"Pretty impressive," remarks the imp resting on the railing beside Ivan Zagad.

"Such . . . interesssting magic," the mage hisses. Flegmar's display momentarily distracts him from the arena's south edge, where Calathra and the daustrakana are still locked in combat. "How exciting it will be if he bleeds for usss. . ."

Now the wild claw-and-blade combat is again the center of attention. The shadowy beast towers over the halfling, but its claws slide off the magic of her shield. Calathra appears to have the upper hand as her foe's attacks dissolve around her. She slashes her sickle at the daustrakana, scratching at its tough, scaly hide, and the beast roars in pain. Ivan Zagad only smiles.

"Here we should get our firssst surprise. . ." he remarks. ". . . the daustrakana is angry, it requires additional strength and speed-- ah!"

The daustrakana rears up suddenly and lets out a piercing shriek. It pauses for a breath and shrieks again, another mad, enraged cry, and swings its arms at Calathra with a wild energy. It beats into her shield relentlessly, slashing and searching for an opening. Twice, its claws breaks through the halfling's magic to tear at her body, ignoring her weapon as she tries to defend herself. In its rage and violence, its bestial face takes on a new, almost human quality. The daustrakana is somehow suddenly familiar--

"It fights like the halfing does," Torgal comments.

Ivan Zagad releases a rasping laugh. "Of courssse it does! It was created with the halfling's own blood. It has gained some of her power. . . the rage and madnesss that she callsss upon has passed on to my daustrakana. . ."

Within moments, Calathra is stumbling from the pain and shock of a dozen bleeding wounds. Even as she attempts to stall her enemy's momentum, Shanna Romm moves along the wall to flank her. The monk is obvious weaker now than before, but the added pressure on a second front is threatening to destroy the halfling's defenses. Now she cries out defiantly and falls into her rage, using her new energy to cut into the beast even as its claws rend her flesh. Her sickle slashes once, twice and hits both times, causing the beast to roar in pain.

But it is too late for Calathra. Though the beast's rage is now lessening, it takes advantage of Calathra's wild attacks to slip beneath her defenses. Each wound Calathra deals is matched by a claw wound that slows her ever more as her berserk attack loses momentum. Finally, it is Shanna who uses the halfling's weakness to step behind her and deliver a kick to her head. Calathara totters for a moment and falls, unconcious.

Instantly, the daustrakana turns on Shanna. It lashes out with one claw and scratches deep into her shoulder, then leaps at her, trying to crush her against the wall. The agile monk drops to the ground and rolls underneath the beast, crying out a prayer to her god as she dodges its attack. When she rises, her body is once again wreathed with energy. The daustrakana charges her again, and this time she meets its attack and allows it to crash into her, giving way to it while ducking its lashing claws. When the monster's body touches hers, the holy energy flows out of her and blasts at the daustrakana. It roars in pain and falls back.

And now it becomes noticeable just how much damage the daustrakana has taken. Blood-- or something resembling it-- oozes from the sickle-wounds of the now-fallen halfling, and added to Shanna Romm's magic the wounds look close to toppling the creature. The monk, weakened only slightly by the troglodyte's magic and bearing only a few claw wounds, grins and takes a step toward her opponent.

Before she takes a step, she is suddenly enveloped in a sphere of impenetrable darkness. Her confused and angry shouts echo through the arena as the daustrakana spreads its wings once more and floats into the air, eyes bright and dangerous.

"That ability isss. . . inherited. . . from our friend Whisper," Ivan Zagad murmurs. "And what comes next. . . yesss. . . wait just a moment. . ."

The daustrakana hovers over the center of the globe of darkness for several seconds, and as it does so its form and features shift. Once again its movements seem unaccountably familiar, and Torgal leans against the railing, straining for recognition. "Is it. . .?"

As the darkness around her vanishes, Shanna whirls about, searching for her enemy. As she twists her head to look above her, the daustrakana lowers one arm and points a claw at her. An invisible force passes from the monster to the monk, and then-- she is rooted to the ground, unmoving.

"Craningar," Torgal whistles. "Impressive. Well, there goes a second gladiator--"

But as the daustrakana dives down on the monk, she springs to life again, shaking away the binding magic. Almost casually, she sidesteps the beast's dive, and it swoops past her, flying upward once more. Breathing a relieved sigh, she draws out a javelin and readies it, eyeing the beast warily. When it begins its next dive, she hurls her javelin. The weapon flies true, but the daustrakana reaches out with a pair of claws with blinding speed and knocks it out of the air. Shanna recognizes her own movements in the beast's action and growls in frustration as it swings past her, clipping her shoulder. A second javelin follows with the same accuracy as the first, and again the daustrakana knocks it away and dives down at Shanna. This time she barely manages to escape a mortal wound as it flies at her, all four claws slashing. Now nearly as wounded as the daustrakana, she draws a third javelin and hurls it desparately.

This one, too, flies true, straight into the chest of the daustrakana. Its wings fold together and it falls, screaming, to the stone with a crash. It twitches once as it lies on the ground, then moves no more.

Now Shanna is alone in the arena. She looks about expectantly, as though wondering whether Flegmar's absence will give her victory by default. Then, still watching warily, she intones a few words of prayer, closing her bleeding wounds. The extent of her injuries is still evident, however, as she sways weakly for several seconds, reaching out to the wall for support. Finally, she draws another javelin and stands against the wall, waiting. Seconds pass.

Suddenly, another gaping hole opens in the floor and Flegmar steps out. The reptilian wizard's back is to Shanna, and he starts to turn to look for his opponent. Shanna quickly hurls her javelin at the troglodyte. Before anyof the onlookers have a chance to understand what is happening, the javelin changes, bending and twisting in a surge of electricity until all that remains is a bolt of blue-green lightning that hammers into Flegmar with a deafening roar.

When the smoke clears, the wizard lies unconscious on the ground.

Shanna raises both arms victoriously, shouting up to the stands over the swelling cheers. "Justice has been served. Evil ones and wrongdoers have been punished!! Torgal, thank you for the opportunity to hone my skills in combat and spellcasting in your Pit. I must now pursue my calling, to punish those who inflict harm or exploitation on the downtrodden or defenseless. I am hereby retiring from the Pit." With that speech, she steps over the bodies of her fallen enemies to the eastern gate, where the healers are entering.

A breathless roar sweeps over the crowd, congratulating the victorious monk as she makes her exit.
"Quite interesssting. . ." mutters Ivan Zagad.

Torgal nods. "Quite. I'm surprised you allowed her to use that javelin of lightning, but it made for a showy ending. Though I suppose it must disappoint you that your own creation failed."

"Failed? I think not. This was not so much a tessst as. . . an exhibition. . ." hisses the mage. His face far from disappointed, is triumphant. "If a daustrakana born from these. . . weak ssspecimens. . . is so powerful, think of the opportunies!. . ."

A tiny, shadowy shape on Ivan Zagad's shoulder cuts him off. "'Weak speciments?' Hmph. Don't forget, I gave it the wings."

Shanna -- Total success! Good job. Fine tactics and skill led you to victory on this one. As a going-away gift, Ivan Zagad grants you a pair of bracers of armor +2 inscribed with his own wizard-mark.

Flegmar-- You were fried. Some days we just wish we made our saving throws. . . but of all attacks, your magic most affected Shanna, even though you were only around for a few rounds.

Calathra-- You were outnumbered two to one, and one of those two had plans especially for you. In short, no amount of skill could have gotten you out of this one.