A Little R&R (Colosseum Contestants)

[Black Mage]

The infirmary was mixed with three sorts of people. The first were Camelot's Finest, knights of the realm who all seemed to have a certain clout and dignity about them, yet still conveyed the message that all scuffles would be handled in the Arena, not out of it, or else. The second group were the infirmary staff, healers and nurses who'd cast spells and mixed potions in order to provide the best care possible to the third group, the Tournament Contestants. Black Mage found himself in this third category, though it was no surprise. He was never to be a knight in shining armor, nor the one who brought aid to those stumbling and broken. His talents laid in destruction. With the Warriors of Light he was a tool for good, a sword against the unflinching evil of the Four Fiends, but here? He wasn't sure. Only time would tell.

But time was not a commodity that the Black Mage truly had at the moment. The next match would be in only an hour, and while he needed to heal he also needed a plan. The cuts and slices would sew up at a decidedly unnatural pace as long as he didn't exert himself and kept dealing with the Camelot Medicine man, but how was he going to get his next opponent, this "Magus"? He needed another trick up his sleeve, another spell perhaps. What could he cast before that would help him fight another mage? The Warrior Of Light began to concentrate on his memory, but little did he know who might be around the corner, recovering from their matches as well . . .