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“The bear, obviously!” you shout. “The rest of them are barely a challenge!”

“Seems nobody told you,” says Tarquin as he leaps forward with his sword. “Puns are off-limits in the Shadow Dragons.”

All five of you focus your firepower on the bear. You and Tarquin get the worst of it—cuts and slashes where its claws penetrate your leathers, scrapes and bruises where its huge paws knock you to the ground and send you skidding across the arena floor. The mages fling up barriers when they can, but keeping the bear and the worst of the Venatori spells off everyone’s back takes up most of their efforts.

So when Tarquin slides underneath the bear on his knees to stab up at its soft underbelly, you seize the moment and strike up at its neck, sending its huge skull bowling into several of the nearest cultists while Tarquin scrapes his blade along its spine from below.

After that, you’re both filthy, dripping with blood and decorated with bear hair and arena grit. It’s horrible, but energizing, and you leap up, ready to take down the bear’s Venatori companions. Unfortunately, your victory has clearly alarmed them, because they’re disappearing into the arena’s shadows as quickly as they arrived.

Cowards.

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