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Azelith: HP = 87, PP = 44, EP = 44, Status = Fine
Ruin had come to Azelith's domain. Time was unknowable in the state that he had been left in, but when his soul had overtaken his host, he had "awakened" to find that the place where he had lured foes to his dueling ring could no longer be accurately called a dungeon, but had been reduced by time to little more than a pile of rubble. The man whose body he had claimed had been a sorcerer of some sort, and had come here looking for relics and treasure, but it seemed that Azelith's wealth had been claimed by looters - or perhaps his own former allies and servants - long ago. Comprehending the language was difficult, but what knowledge he could claim from his victim's soul as he consumed allowed him a refresher on the local tongue... It had had time enough to change such that he could only barely communicate with the fool who had damned himself by donning the caestus that Azelith's soul had been trapped in.
For the first time in who knew how long, Azelith looked through living eyes. They could not pierce the darkness around him, forcing him to take up the lantern that his host body had brought in with it. The cobwebs on his memory faded, and he realized that his host had lain down for the last time - at least of their own free will - where Azelith's last shell had been destroyed and he had been trapped in these caestus. His blood formed a red-brown stain on the stone floor of his arena, but there was no sign of any remains of his body. He had changed his host's body, strengthening it enough that it would serve as a shell... For now, and scarred off the insignia on the chainmail that they had worn for protection to ensure that they weren't recognized too easily.
There were two ways out of his arena, one to his personal chambers and the other to the dungeon that would take him outside. He could hear distant noises echoing through the halls; the scuffling of motion and the titter of voices too far for him to make out what they were saying or the sort of being that was doing the talking. At that point the choice was his; to wait and listen, or to get moving immediately.