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Description: During the time between the 3rd round and the Semi Finals, one night, there was a large volcanic eruption that went off on an island off the north coast of the very land that GTB takes place on. Mt. Orphelia had not erupted like this in centuries, and thus has been quite an international news since two days ago. Scientists and geologists alike have all flocked to this international phenomenon, taking notes and reporting the current proceedings. Surprisingly, this volcanic activity has unearthed a temple that is half under all the lava that has piled itself among the island like a river. At the moment, the place is torrential, but has a strange calm as lava bubbles through the canyons.

And Midus Sonners has decided that the fighters use this place as their arena for the next round. As a nod to most of the fire-based participants that have made it this far, this arena serves as a welcoming sight to such pyromaniacs as they are allowed to stand within their heated element.

There is one round platform of black rock that will serve as the fighting arena, cameramen perched upon the top of the canyons to observe from a safer spot (ignore the picture of it having cracks throughout it; this is solid unbroken ground).

The temperature is hot, but bearable. Fortunately, within the area where the fight will take place, there is no poisonous smog that will endanger breathing. However, the lava is still a lethal zone.

Field Measurements: 50 diameter stone platform, with only four feet raised above lava.

Ten Count Boundary: Flight penalty is still in effect. However, unlike the previous rounds, anyone would falls into the lava instantly loses. There are no small rocks around that you'll be able to fall to safety on other than the edge. Once your character touches the lava, a magical field will engulf them and protect them from any lethal damage due to a medic on a standby. However, this does not apply, nor does the DQ, if the lava is placed into use in someway by a fighter who is capable. In consequence, of course, lava still is considered a lethality, so if one chooses to use it, they are warned of possibly DQing themselves if they incur lethal damage against their opponent.

Special Conditions: Fire abilities are slightly stronger by half a charge.

Fight Ends: March 18th, 12 AM Central

Shades, golf shirt tucked into khakis, and a cool demeanor.

Yep, no pressure at all.

Without much trouble getting there or fanfare to announce his arrival, Razel stood at the opposite end of the obsidian arena apparently lacking the enthusiasm everybody else seemed to have.

Suddenly, a giant monster sprang out from the depths of the lava. It was the head of a massive dragon, it let out a scream that shook the entire arena, and set Afton on guard. Raising his shield the Dragon spewed flame down upon him while the crowed pounded on the rocks around them screaming for blood in a rhythmic wave, screaming and chanting in a unified voice that grew louder and louder and louder. "Hey.... Hey.... Hey... HEY!" The dragon's head came down upon him and closed it's jaws around him with a defining THUD and a final "HEY!" from the crowed louder than any previous ones

The knight awoke with a jerk. He'd fallen asleep on the boat ride here, and someone was pounding on his door to wake him. "HEY!" said the attendant. "Your match is starting!... Five minutes!" He said with another deafening pound on the door to his small cabin. Afton Pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing the headache and sleep from his eyes. He'd been told about the arena earlier that afternoon, and the idea of fighting in such a place was obviously giving him nightmares. Heat had never been his favorite thing to fight against, it always reminded him of what he had become as of late. Rolling out of bed the large muscled knight was quickly ushered onto the platform by the awaiting attendants once he was properly dressed and readied.

It was so unbearably hot in the lava surrounded ring that even his meager stubble of a beard was enough to make him sweat, more so the back of his neck. He'd only been here a few minutes and already he was almost drenched in sweat. Although the not so far gone nightmares probably hadn't helped. He looked around, half expecting them to come true. Nervous from the heat of the arena, he drew his blade and shield, holding them loosely He stared across the stage at his challenger.

A rather bland man stared back at him, seeming to have little spark of life in him. Afton almost asked if this really was his challenger, but his previous look around the arena told him that there was no one around to ask other than the boring faced, lifeless husk of a man that stood across from him. Through process of elimination that meant that Dull Face over there must be it. So he took a few more steps to enter the middle of the arena to make sure he was as far away from the lava.

"I am the righteous, grant me thine strength and see me to victory, Oh Lord. Bless mine opponent, and should he fall and see him into thine blessed kingdom, Oh lord." Afton crossed himself quickly, finishing the prayer. Simply because this man was his challenger did not make him a daemon or an evil one. So far as he knew his only sin was in his blandness and waste of the creator's gift. God would forgive him if he repented. The knight took a readied stance with his shield out in front and his blade held high, waiting for his opponent to do the same so they could begin like proper gentlemen. He hoped for an enjoyable and clean match this round.

Whoever this guy was, obviously he wasn't even able to conjure up enough life in his soul to care about the gift of it. He simply stood there, on the edge of the fire inspecting his fingernails. Perhaps he simply wished to die? Perhaps this was his way of dying honorably, rather than throwing himself into the fires of hell for the unforgivable sin of suicide. Afton could only commend him for such an honorable and hard choice. However, it had been a long time since he had taken a life, and he wasn't too keen on it now. Even though he had prayed, it was mostly a ceremonial one, he hadn't meant for Bland Face to really need the prayer!

With careful quick steps forward, not wanting to charge forward and simply fly off the edge to his doom, he approached Bland Face with his blade at the ready, held high and his shield out front to cover most of his body. He was a good five feet away when he came within striking distance. As his opponent refused to move at all from the edge, he was quickly boxed in by the large knight the long reach of his blade. He made a quick and powerful stab over his shield once he was within striking distance, returning to the readied position with his shield out in front immediately after. The lava so nearby was making him nervous, and he wanted to remain as far back from it as possible. In this effort he was using the maximum reach of his blade with this attack.

As Afton approached his opponent he could feel a slight tingling sensation as Bland Face charged. Good, he hadn't met an opponent yet who could charge and move at the same time, making his piercing stab an almost assured strike! Or so he thought. Apparently this man, however bland, average and boring he was, but also was a master of maneuverability and charge attacks! What was even more astounding was that after his dodge he seemed to continue to charge, regardless of having just moved or dodged an attack! The knight was, understandably a little surprised by the sudden movement.

None of this, however, stopped the knight from swinging his shield arm towards his opponent in a single-armed bash attack. Like a door opening in Bland-man's face it would hit him square on the nose if he didn't make some sort of magic pirouette turn out of the way. He was charging again, Afton could tell from the slight tingling against his neck rather than any physical sign of it. Usually that would mean the attack was sure to hit, or else force him to drop his charge.... However, if his last attack and the subsequent dodge was any indication this match was going to be anything but ordinary.

(Just a basic outline. May or may not beef it up later. Core details will remain the same though. Feel free to post your two lines.)

Afton swore colorfully. He had watched the graceless stumbling dodge the blank-faced man had done and calculated his attack carefully. The half-fall of a dodge was executed so poorly, and with so little practice it was a wonder that this man had made it this far! He could have sworn that when Bland-Face stumbled to his left, he had been close enough to feel the man's panting hot breath on his neck in an almost creepily intimate fashion. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still off balance, the knight would have expected some sort of retaliation. As it stood though, he watched Bland-Face stumble clumsily backwards, away from his shield's attack, and then try to cover his lucky dodge with what he must have thought to be whity banter, by the way he emphasized his words, almost panting between breaths.

Afton didn't even waste his breath. He couldn't stand the man's seeming immaturity, and lack of concern for his own life. How could he so easily throw away the gift God had given him?! What was worse was his sinful streak of pride that he didn't mind flaunting everywhere. It made a tiny part in the back of Afton's mind cry out in rage against the sinner.

Blank-Face, appeared to be nothing more than an amateur with a good betting face. Afton could see right through his petty mind games and furrowed his eyebrows in determination. The knight turned and took a step to the left, boxing the man in towards the edge of the arena even more now. He wasn't going to bother with attacks anymore, now that he had the bland man cornered at the edge of the obsidian arena, with fire marking his opponent's only escape routes .All he did was hold out his blade to his right side, putting the full length of it to use hemming Bland-face in, and braught his shield to bare. He was making sure all escape routes would end by his blade, shield or the fiery pit that surrounded the two men. From that point, he simply took slow, calculated, and careful steps forward, keeping his eye on his opponent. The intent was clear.

He intended to force Bland-Face off the edge of the arena, much like the Spartans forced the Arabs to drown in the Battle of Thermopylae. With a slow and deliberate malicious intent. With no room to run, being hemmed in by the burning edge of the arena as he was, Bland-Face's only option would be to press forward and face either the sword or the shield, his choice. If not to die quietly by fire.

Afton, while usually a hulking heap of slow but powerful muscle, didn't have his armor on. The judges had forced him to remove all but the lightest pieces of it. This left him feeling naked, but also quick as liquid lightning comparatively. So when he had shifted, it was a smooth and quick movement. Not that he needed to be all that fast, his opponent seemed to not be too terribly bright or experienced at this whole dodging game.

With a wide stride, that appeared to the knight to look like he was more preventing himself from falling on his face rather than trying to escape, he stepped to the left.... Or more accurately, HIS left.... And Afton's right. Perhaps he thought that he was swift enough to get around the blade, or maybe that the blade was shorter than it actually was. More accurately though, Bland-Face likely expected to be able to simply shoulder check him and run past before he got his blade up... A foolish, and amateur mistake. An instinctual reaction to being cornered in such a manner, and not one that wasn't wholly unexpected. Although it made Afton question yet again how he had made it this far and why he was choosing to throw his life away for monetary gain. This man's Daemon's? greed, and pride knew no bounds, apparently.

Even with the stride being a long and fumbling one it put Bland-Face right at his right shoulder when he decided to bolt for the center of the ring. Fear was written across the man's face, as he blindly bolted for the relative safety the center of the ring offered. The great hulking knight hardly had to move at all in order to stop the attempted escape, and even counter it. With a simple shift of his shield to cover his right shoulder, and a slight adjustment in his stance to brace himself slightly, Razel, came barreling straight against the shield, stopping his escape. If he couldn't stop himself in time, and managed to bang himself against the defensive metal plate, he would find that this match would end far more quickly and decisively than even Afton expected.

Having been granted access to a local forge on the tournament grounds as a means of "leveling up" since last round, he added an explosive property to his shield at the suggestion of one of the smithies there. However, his faith forbade him from actually activating the property himself. It had to be of someone else's doing, an evildoer's own sorcery used against them. If Razel hit the shield in his blind run for safety, the force would activate the shield and throw him backwards, at the vary least knocking him on his butt, if not into the Lava's awaiting embrace.