Sweat dripped down the warrior's brow before he lunged forward and slammed his sword against his opponent's. This time the opponent grunted with the effort before he disengaged hastily. This gave the first warrior the chance to press forward. His sword bit past the defenses of the other, as the short sword sliced it's way through the right lung and was caught in the bone of the rib cage. The warrior straightened and took the sword from the corpse that fell to his feet before he spun and caught the blade of his next opponent. This one was tanned and wielded twin short axes. The blades swung back as he pushed back. The two jumped back and circled like a panther and it's prey. The two looked at each other intently. Each watched. A snarl slipped between each other's lips as eyes narrowed and stances tensed. The man had no choice but to make the first move.
His hand moved beneath the cloak and out flashed a dagger. The thrown projectile went to impale the tanned fighter's eye. The lithe figure dodge to the right and brought his hand up and hacked down. The blade flashed and was caught by the short sword. The first warrior brought his left shoulder forward with a grunt and caught the ax wielder's upper chest with the blow. The right arm was thrown back and the ax from his hand. He growled and brought his right elbow down, as he and his assailant fell to the ground, the blow aimed for the crown of his head. A low moan of pain slipped from both men as they rolled around on the ground before the tanned fighter gained his feet. The first warrior brought himself to one knee and caught the tanned fighter. The short sword bit into his flesh past the leather armor and to the warrior's heart. The warrior finally had the chance to move away and did so. He turned to face the remainder of his opposition and smiled lightly as he taunted, "Who is next to fight Dancer, Hand of the Emperor?"
The warrior chuckled as the rest scattered as as smoothed back his oiled hair and sat back on a stone and shook his head. Three bodies were spiraled in a strange design as Dancer spoke to those in the shadows, "They are your's to consume, Hounds. I've no need for these bodies."
At his beckon, three giant hounds appeared. They were the size of a panther, and shaped more like wolfs. The Hounds of Shadow, they had once been called. The Hound in front snarled at the two in the back before it padded over and started it's meal. The others would have to wait. Dance scowled before he stood and looked backwards. The palace yawned beneath him, though it was no trouble for him. Dancer moved to the edge and jumped off. Power swirled around him as his Warren flared to life around him as he dove into it. A portal had opened to it, and now closed silently. The Realm of Shadow rushed passed him before Dance landed like a feline and stood up after. The land that was before him was not the area around the palace. This was the home of his former master, that was now not occupied. Dancer walked a short distance before he snapped to attention at the sound of boots on the plane before him.
A lone figure appeared before him, with no apparent solid shape. Translucent, the figure strode towards him as even the shadows that surrounded and cloaked his body seemed to shift on occasion, between big, skinny, broad-shoulders, short, and tall. Dancer grimaced and sighed out his greeting, "Evening, Shadowthrone."