Although she had addressed the person next to her, Setsuka had kept her attention on the spar in front of her.  However, the hostility in the response drew her gaze to her responder.  He was about the same height as her with similarly pale skin and dark hair like her own. He wore the same blue tunic as she and looked just as uncomfortable in it.  However, a scowl was firmly attached to his face, casting a dark mien to his presence.  With a silent sigh, the draken turned her attention back to the matches in front of her. It took all sorts of people to make the world, even unpleasant ones.<br/><br/>Grey tunic was able to score one point on blue before the latter accumulated another four.  The match was called, in neither person's favor, Setsuka noted in interest, before another two differently colored men were called forward to fight.  This match ended quickly; only thirty seconds passed before what would have been a killing blow was executed.  The grey tunic walked off in humiliation as another grey garbed immortal was called forward.  After three quick "kills," the triumphant blue wearing immortal was dismissed, the crowd drawing away from him in either fear or envious scorn.<br/><br/>The bouts continued with less impressive swordsmanship after that.  From her observations, Setsuka concluded that points were being awarded based on how deadly the attacks were: the more incapacitating the strike, the higher the point value.  However, there was no set limit to reach before the match was called.  A group of either veterans or commanders stood on the side of the ring, jotting notes about each fighter.  This must be an assessment of some sort then, with combatants selected at random from the group milling around.<br/><br/>“You! In the blue tunic” She was shaken from her reverie by the shout.  A finger was pointing in her direction.  “You’re next!”  Was he talking to her?  There were four other blue-clad immortals around her, in addition to the unhappy one beside her.  When no one moved, the overseer’s face turned sterner.  “With the sword!”  His accusing finger jabbed at the arena in front of them, clearly commanding ‘the one with the sword’ to get in the rink.  Her sword was still safely tucked away in her tent, so she relaxed minutely at knowing she wasn’t next.  Still, it would be best to think of what she wanted to do in her bout: stick with the four strikes in battle rule or draw it out like in a spar?