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"Zochi." Zander said ruefully to himself, walking through one of the stadium's halls in search of the preparation room. "Not too often you find another 'Z' name. Have to hope she isn't as tough as that orc beast we had to capture last month... put up quite a fight before we-oomph!" Not looking where he was going, he'd smashed headfirst into another being, this one clad in a rough cloak to protect from the elements. "Watch it!" it replied in a feminine voice, staggering backwards and dislodging its hood. Zander's expression of surprise soon turned to one of rage as the fallen cloak revealed pointy ears, horns, and plenty of bared red skin.
"Stay out of my way, human!" she repeated angrily. "Pray you have not made me late to the tournament, or prepare to suffer the wrath of Zochi the Imp!" Zochi wiggled her fingers menacingly, despite being about a foot shorter than Zander, she made up for it in ferocity.
Zander was unprepared for such a confrontation with a hot-headed demon, but quickly launched into a counter. He hastily recited the diatribe his masters had drilled into him as the proper response to meeting a lesser demon face to face. "Y-you fiend! Your kind shouldn't be able to show yourselves in public, you'll damn us all to Hell or worse!" He reached out his arm and pointed at her, putting on his most commanding voice. "Prepare to face me in the tournament and be banishhehehey!"
As he started to proselytize, Zochi deftly reached out under his outstretched arm (easy due to her height) and jabbed her clawlike fingernail into his ribs. The stoic cultist, uncharacteristically yelped and jumped back.
"Shouldn't be able to show ourselves in public?" she purred, rubbing her barely concealed, perky breasts seductively, "That doesn't sound like much fun..."
Zander's face turned red and he prepared to tackle her, but before he could a horn blew to signal the time to pick their weapons. Zochi hurried to her chamber, even managing to walk seductively. Zander tried to assuage his feelings of arousal and sexual repression with yet another reading from the Six Strictures, one of his cult's religious texts, as he briskly walked to his own chamber.
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