The Boros commander was a fearsome looking man who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, though his steely expression and rugged face made it hard to be sure. He had dark skin and a very short head of hair that was slightly unkempt, possibly due to his tight fitting helmet which he had to wear for long periods of time. His most distinguishing features, however, were his dark piercing green eyes and full beard that reached the base of his neck.
Some recruits were fairly surprised when he suddenly smiled and greeted them all in a loud thundering voice. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Hall Of Fire! It is here that we first separate the citizens from the soldiers, the Boros from the common people of this city! You are here today to compete for the honor and privilege of being recruited into the most powerful fighting force in all of Ravnica! While those eggheads at the Azorious Senate waste the day filing tomes and spilling ink you will be out in the field spilling blood! You will be in charge of keeping the peace, brothers and sisters, by ANY MEANS NECESSARY!"
The crowd of hopeful inductees roared with cheers as the commander then unsheathed his sword, which was just as weathered and battle scarred as he was, and thrust it high over his head. "Long live the Boros Legion!" he finished as many of the people around you started applauding and shouting. The commander smiled again as he sheathed his blade and brought forth a large brass box with a small hole in the top.
"We will begin by drawing lots. The test will be one on one, single combat. When your number gets called step forth to meet your opponent. Winner of the fight advances, losers go home. If you kill your opponent you forfeit the match and will be disqualified until the next recruitment meeting, so play nice. Let's get moving boys and girls!" With that the first few people lined up to draw their number.
You take a deep breath when your turn comes up and pull a folded sheet of parchment from the box. "Looks like I got lucky number 13. Great." you think to yourself as everyone gathers around to watch the first fight. "Numbers 1 and 2!" the commander calls as two men in armor step up. The fight lasts barely a minute before one of them is on the ground begging for mercy as they clutch a slashed leg. The rest of the fights proceed rapidly until about an hour later when you finally get called on to battle.
"Numbers 13 and 14, let's go!" the commander shouts as the last two fighters clear the area. Your opponent is...
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