Tanamar lied, broken and bleeding on the arena sands. He held himself up by his elbows, helplessly watching a cripple in a cage ominously walking toward him. Even though this was a tournament... he was pretty sure he was going to die.
It pissed him off that he was going to be killed by trash.
It pissed him off even more that he couldn't do anything about it.
...Then a blast of torrential wind sent the bear tumbling backward.
"⌈Soothing Winds,⌋" Zenon stood tall, a bleeding, half-dead mess, walking on two legs.
Tanamar's chest felt warm... and he felt his open wounds immediately start to knit. He shot his eyes open wide, suddenly awake, and energized.
He could fight. He could win.
He was so happy he could almost kiss the guy. Almost.
Tanamar smirked, "Zenon, you beautiful son of a b*tch."
Zenon chuckled to himself, offering a hand, "I uh... you're welcome, bud."
