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I literally just finished my first 5-0 arena run.
I played with a Shadowcraft deck, and it turned out to be absolutely insane, with 3 legendaries, two of which are Lord of the Flies... And, surprisingly, it was very stable. I enjoyed it overall.
The next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitsky arrived at the Sokolnitskiy forest, where they found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already waiting. Pierre looked like a man preoccupied with thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with the upcoming matter. His haggard face was yellow. He had evidently not slept that night. He looked around himself distractedly and winced, as if from the bright sun. Two considerations occupied him exclusively: the guilt of his wife, of which, after a sleepless night, there no longer remained the slightest doubt, and the innocence of Dolokhov, who had no reason to preserve the honor of a man who was a stranger to him. "Perhaps I would have done the same in his place," Pierre thought. "In fact, I probably would have. What is the point of this duel, this murder? Either I will kill him, or he will hit me in the head, in the elbow, in the knee. To get away from here, to run, to bury myself somewhere," occurred to him. But precisely in those moments when such thoughts came to him, with a particularly calm and distracted air that inspired respect in those who looked at him, he would ask: "Is it soon? Is everything ready?"
When everything was ready, the sabers stuck into the snow to mark the barrier to which they were to advance, and the pistols loaded, Nesvitsky approached Pierre.
— I would not be fulfilling my duty, Count, — he said in a timid voice, — nor would I justify the trust and honor you bestowed upon me by choosing me as your second, if in this important, very important moment I did not tell you the whole truth. I believe that this matter does not have sufficient cause and is not worth shedding blood over... You were wrong, you acted in haste...
— Ah, yes, terribly foolish... — said Pierre.
— Then allow me to convey your regret, and I am certain that our opponents will agree to accept your apology, — said Nesvitsky (just as the other participants in the affair and as everyone does in such matters, not yet believing that the matter would come to an actual duel). — You know, Count, it is far nobler to admit one's mistake than to bring the matter to an irreparable end. There was no offense on either side. Allow me to speak with them...
— No, what is there to talk about, — said Pierre, — it's all the same... So, is it ready? — he added. — Just tell me how to walk and where to shoot? — he said, smiling with an unnatural meekness. He took the pistol in his hands and began to ask about the trigger mechanism, as he had never held a pistol before, which he did not wish to admit. — Ah, yes, so that's how it is, I know, I just forgot, — he said.
— No apologies, absolutely nothing, — Dolokhov answered Denisov, who on his part had also made an attempt at reconciliation and had also approached the appointed spot.
The place for the duel had been chosen about eighty paces from the road where the sleighs remained, in a small clearing of the pine forest, covered with snow that had melted during the thaws of the last few days. The opponents stood about forty paces from each other, at the edges of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, laid out tracks imprinted in the wet, deep snow from where they stood to the sabers of Nesvitsky and Denisov, which marked the barrier and were stuck ten paces apart. The thaw and fog continued; at forty paces, they could barely see each other. For about three minutes, everything had been ready, and yet they hesitated to begin. Everyone was silent.
— Well, begin! — said Dolokhov.
— Very well, — said Pierre, still smiling.
It was becoming terrifying. It was obvious that the matter, which had begun so easily, could no longer be prevented by anything, that it was proceeding of its own accord, already independent of the will of men, and had to be accomplished. Denisov was the first to step forward to the barrier and proclaimed:
— Since the opponents have refused reconciliation, is it not time to begin: take the pistols and, at the word three, begin to advance.
— One! Two! Three!.. — Denisov shouted angrily and stepped aside. Both walked along the trodden paths closer and closer, recognizing each other in the fog. The opponents had the right, while advancing to the barrier, to fire whenever they wished. Dolokhov walked slowly, not raising his pistol, peering with his bright, shining blue eyes into the face of his opponent. His mouth, as always, wore the semblance of a smile.
At the word three, Pierre walked forward with quick steps, straying from the trodden path and stepping through the unbroken snow. Pierre held the pistol with his right arm extended forward, evidently fearing that he might kill himself with the pistol. He carefully kept his left arm back, because he wanted to support his right arm with it, but he knew that this was not allowed. Having walked about six paces and strayed from the path into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, glanced quickly again at Dolokhov and, pulling the trigger as he had been taught, fired. Not expecting such a loud sound, Pierre started at his own shot, then smiled at his own impression and stopped. The smoke, especially thick due to the fog, prevented him from seeing for the first moment; but the second shot, which he expected, did not follow. Only the hurried steps of Dolokhov were heard, and his figure appeared from behind the smoke. With one hand he held his left side, with the other he gripped the lowered pistol. His face was pale. Rostov ran up and said something to him.
— No... no, — Dolokhov muttered through his teeth, — no, it's not finished, — and, taking a few more falling, hobbling steps to the very saber, he fell onto the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he wiped it on his frock coat and leaned on it. His face was pale, frowning, and trembling.
1. I am defending the queen from the dishonorable knight and his vile minions (you). 2. Pascale. I explained the reason last time. 3. Beast Dominator. 4. Furiae. 5. White Paladin. Elves for soul harvesting. 6. Temptress > Azazel > Merlin > Otohime 7. Alexander > Series > Warlock > Lisa 8. Necromancer > Lutz > Dealer > Knight
1. Vampire Queen 2. Olivia! 3. The Dominatrix is cool, but I prefer guys. So, Arandor 4. A difficult choice. But I'll go with guys again: Blaider 5. Still, Cynthia 6. I prefer guys, so: Azazel - 3, Merlin - 2, Vampire girl - 1, Otohime - 0 (even though I voted for her last time, she's worse than her rivals here) 7. Cute guy in glasses - 3, Lisa - 2, Alexander - 1, Maid - 0 8. Lucy - 3 (nyanyanya), Knight - 2 (I just like using him, yes yes), Dealer - 1, Necromancer - 0 (when I first saw the small version in battle, I thought she was cross-eyed, so no way).
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Arandor