The mirror lay broken at your feet. Your opponent dissapates into thin air and a hush befalls the crowd around you. You just remembered you was not to break the mirror. You slowly turn and fix your gaze on your trainer Lord Bosk who's very glare seems to be sending shots of fear and pain through ever portion of your battered and bruised body.
Before Lord Bosk can say a word you bend down and begin picking pieces of mirror up as if you were trying to piece it back together. A massive hand grabs your sholder and picks you high into the air as if you were no more than a fly. You broke the rule, you broke the mirror, you must pay. I will give you two choices. Face me or have the mirror replaced.
If you want to face Lord Bosk, click here
If you want to fix the mirror, click here