Umber

After a day, the Preserver returned to his work while the Avangion remained at the scrying pool, watching the doings of Opa Skarp’s descendants. “I don’t understand the fascination,” the Preserver grumbled during a break from re-binding.

Come and see, the Avangion replied.

Reluctantly the Preserver joined him. The Avangion had shifted the view to the slave pits, where two angry armed and armored slaves were having an altercation. Four of Opa Skarp’s brood hovered nearby, watchful and assessing. Beyond them guards were massing, but far from breaking up the fight they were taking bets instead. The newly anointed queen of the gladiators. And her newly dethroned competitor.

The Preserver watched with at best mild interest. “She appears to be regaining her crown.” The former champion had wrapped the cords of her bolas around her opponent, but just as she was choking her into unconsciousness one of the four, a slight male psion, intervened by pushing her away. All of her rage swiftly shifted to him, but even as he dodged her initial attack one of his companions, of a more martial build than he, metamophosed her right hand into a claw and swiped the gladiator in the back.

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