The thing he hated most, Cyprus reflected as he stared down at the severed head, was being bound to a single physical location.<br/><br/>In the prime of his godhood, time and place had never been an issue. He was wherever he wanted to be, exactly when he wanted to be there. Casting out his consciousness to carry on a hundred conversations at once was no obstacle, for though each one had to be filtered through the same mind, that mind was so vast and powerful that he could do all of that and still govern the natural order of the world at the same time. Now he was lucky to remember his own name every day. Memories slipped away like water, and they didn't always come back.<br/><br/>Ca'al Na had helped with that, thankfully. Prayer was far from the only thing Cyprus needed to sustain himself, but it had helped. Now, though he'd forgotten much of the ritual that had surrounded the faith of which he was the object, at least the death rituals were clear in his mind. He spoke the words aloud, but with no breath to give weight to his voice, it was doubtable that anyone could hear. Cyprus dipped an incorporeal finger in the splash of blood on Ca'al Na's cheek and did his best to shape it into the appropriate sigil to wish his soul safe passage on the river of time. It was a miracle he could impact the blood at all, and though it was a far cry from the intricate interwoven spirals that the sigil was supposed to be, it was at least an improvement over the random splatter, and that would have to do.<br/><br/>"...And may you find rest upon the Shores of Eternity," he finished solemnly, standing up again. Or at least, the center of his awareness raised. While he'd once had human form, it was hard to say whether he still did, just barely tangible, or whether he was simply a clump of senses and forces twisted into a humanoid shape by sheer force of will. As he stood, he wondered what shape the Shores of Eternity were in these days. The ability to traverse to the land of the dead was one of the first he'd lost, so he had no guarantee that souls were making it there as they should. Still, they had to be going somewhere, and since he didn't see any dead bodies or disembodied spirits wandering around, he had to presume that whoever currently held dominion over death wasn't completely botching it.<br/><br/>Ca'al Na was supposed to have been his key to regaining his control over that particular domain, and all his domains besides. Now, it seemed rather apparent that the man hadn't exactly been the best choice. Not that Cyprus was drowning in choices. His late champion had been a brute in body and spirit. Quick to anger, quick to resort to violence when he wasn't getting his way, and, apparently, quick to fall to the sword of someone like Shanna, who presumably encountered those traits a lot in the ring, and knew how to exploit them. The entire battle hadn't even lasted two minutes, and was practically decided from the first clash of Shanna's sword and Ca'al Na's massive axe. Just about the only thing the man had had going for him was his inhuman strength, and his faith in the old way.<br/><br/>For his next champion, Cyprus would have to go in a different direction. Clearly accomplishing this was going to take more than strength. And he had just the candidate in mind.<br/><br/>A moment later, the Sorcerer King spoke, and Cyprus made himself scarce. The sorcerer had sniffed out his champion in a heartbeat. Best not to stick around and see if he had a nose for the god himself.<br/><br/>"Shanna the She-Devil," the King declared in his magically enhanced booming voice. Despite the volume, the voice was higher and a bit more musical than one might have expected for the ruler of such a vicious land. This was a man who didn't just tolerate the misery he caused, he delighted in it.<br/><br/>"You have slain my champion. And quite handily, I might add." The hood of his mage's robe was raised, concealing his face, but there could be no doubt he was smirking. It was the tone of a man who had just loaded his pockets with gold from the nobility, all of whom had bet on the brutish man, not the voluptuous young woman. Which was for the best; altruism would never have motivated him to give her what she wanted. "More than that, you have rid the people of a great threat to their freedom. It has come to my attention recently that this so-called<em>champion</em>was involved in a treasonous plot against the crown." He stood, lowering his robe to reveal his sharp features, and the golden crown upon his head. "Your king and your people thank you, Shanna. And in exchange for your service, I grant you your freedom." He turned to address the crowd now. "Those of you who are here today have witnessed history. Shanna the She-Devil's last fight in our glorious arena!"<br/><br/>The crowd erupted into deafening applause, many chanting her name. Even some of those who despised her couldn't help getting caught up in the fervor. A royal guard approached to lead her back to her quarters. Cyprus, who had been taking shelter in an alcove off the side of the arena, quickly gave chase.<br/><br/>The Sorcerer-King had just given up a champion, but Cyprus had just found one.