Torgal steps into his private booth and looks around. It has been several days since he last observed a fight yet the place is cleaner than ever, the cleaning staff keeping everything in order, even when he isn't. Torgal heads toward the balcony and looks out over the assembling crowd. Fewer people seem to be coming these days as fewer fights are being presented. Torgal sighs to himself as he wonders where his time has gone.

The door to the room opens quickly as Melanos walks in, followed by the figure of Jericho. "Good evening ser, I have both good news and bad tonight. Which shall ye like to hear first?" Melanos stands firm with his feet slightly apart and his eyes fixed on Torgal, no sign of humor on his face. Jericho stands quietly behind the gnome, towering above him.

"I might as well hear the good news first cause by the way your standing I know that the bad news is terrible." Torgal seats himself in his chair and pours a glass of redberry, forgoing his normal dark ale.

"The arena has sold out tonight but it will take some time to get them through the increased security I have placed." Melanos stands quietly waiting for Torgal's response before continuing.

"And exactly why has security been increased?" Torgal turns his attention towards Jericho, knowing that this figure and the bad news are linked. Torgal fixes a stare at the security officer that lasts a few moments until Jericho averts his gaze.

"One of the security team was found dead." Jericho eyes seem a little disturbed as he states the news. "I found him in the guest quarters. He was stabbed from the front and his eyes were open wide. I don't want to speculate about this but something tells me he might have been surprised not to find the person there, but to be stabbed by them. It could be someone in the Pit." Jericho fidgets slightly at his remark and averts his eyes to the ground at Torgal's feet.

Torgal slowly turns to the balcony and stares out at the assembled crowd. "Melanos, Jericho, have the body brought to my private study and send for Mistress Sharanyl. Keep the news under wrap. We don't need to stir up any sort of panic. That would be horrible for business. Jericho," Torgal strikes the man with his hawk-like gaze, the unsettling stare forcing Jericho back a step. "See that this is done immediately, and I will be talking to you later." Torgal's eyes soften as he turns back to his friend and the door closes behind Jericho. "Have him watched… and send a small purse of 100gp to the lads family and send them my regards. Also inform them of the need for secrecy until we catch the murderer and tell them I am truly sorry for their grief." Torgal quickly turns his attention back to the arena as Melanos hastens to do his master's bidding. A small smile creases Torgal's lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been awhile since I have been blessed by your company or that I have been able to bring you a fight. Tonight we have a little treat. Ryle Rainer, the Inn's own bartender has decided to combat Duingar of Clan Hammerhand. Can Ryle defeat this seemingly invincible dwarf, or shall Duingar rip through him and add yet another notch to his blood scarred battle-axe?" The crowd cheers as several chants go up for Duingar and many more go up for Ryle as many would like to see the dwarves reign in the arena come to a close. "I have been keeping you waiting for far too long now. Let the blood spill and the blades sing as this spectacle of carnage begins." The crowd erupts into a thunderous roar as the two gates begin to open slowly.

Ryle strides into the ring with his simple garb on. His dark green robe flowing out behind him as he takes his place in the ring. The sound of raucous singing from the opposite gate pouring out around him. Ryle carefully draws forth his two curved blades, their ivory white handles almost shimmering in the torchlight. Duingar's entrance is not so calm as the dwarf bursts forth from the tunnel and begins to move with deathly speed towards the ranger. Ryle without a moment of hesitation, springs from his spot and rapidly darts toward the bellowing Duingar.

With both axes held high, Duingar releases them steps from the bartender. The crescent blades cross the small gap and bury themselves in the chest of the ranger. Bone cracks and blood sprays onto the dwarf as Ryle's chest is torn into. The massive strike doesn't stop the ranger though, only slows him as he cross one blade in front of his body and the second straight forward. Duingar ducks under the first as he reaches to pull his battle axe and smaller hand axe free. The second blade strikes true as it pierces the singing dwarf's midriff. Ryle staggers under the impact though as he labors for breath. The ranger takes a couple wobbly steps backward as he brings his blades up for another strike. Duingar is faster again, and Ryle's already injured state doesn't help as the mighty battle-axe rips through the bartender's robe and cuts through skin, muscle, tendon and bone before stopping in Ryle's leg. The hand axe flashes in the torchlight moments before Ryle's red blood mutes it. The ranger's eyes cloud over as his blood pours out onto the floor. Duingar tears his axes free and gives the body a small kick before turning and heading to the exit. The crowd stands shocked as they watched the quickest fight to date. Several flowers are thrown towards the unconscious and near dead body of Ryle.

Torgal stares at the remains of the battle as the clerics rush out to tend Ryle. "I hope he can still serve dark ale." The Master mutters to himself.