As it was typical of a duel involving the flamboyant yet deadly bard, a large partisan crowd had gathered with, of course, a large proportion being female. Most of the ladies were crowded above the gate where Meliquades was scheduled to enter, each hoping to catch his favour. The crowd was beginning to grow restless as the scheduled start time of the fight came and went. One of the pit guards made his way through the knot of would-be gamblers waiting to place a wager with the Kobold. The pit guard approached from behind and put a hand on Gremag's shoulder spinning him around.

"Kobold scum, get the fight under way before we have riot," snarled the guard. Just then, a sudden sound, much like a peel-of-thunder, punctuated the din of the crowd. All eyes turned in the direction of the Kobold and pit guard. The stunned guard also turned, his hand reaching for his sword. As he came about, he found himself looking into a broad chest of greasy matted fur. The guard slowly raised his head and until he was looking into the menacing face of an obviously angry Ogre, who had just put a dent in the top of rail of the pit with his club.

"Zinj doesn't like when anyone touches me," said Gremag in mockingly regretful tone, "but it is long past time to start the fight. With the money I have collected tonight, I….., I mean, Zinj and me, will be living in the lap of luxury." Zinj then cleared the crowd from Gremag's path as he made his way to the edge of the pit to announce the combatants.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am very sorry for the delay but the wait will well be worth your patience. Tonight, two brave souls enter Torgal's Pit to test their mettle in hand-to-hand combat. One will leave victorious to fame and glory (and lets hope its Meliquades Gremag muttered to himself) and the other… to the healers! So ladies and gentlemen without further adieu……the combatants! By the way, remember, I am always here to make your time at the pit the most pleasurable it can be!" With a broad flourish of his hands and a knowing wink, he departed to stand with Zinj the back of the crowd

All eyes then turned to the pit in anticipation as both sets of doors open simultaneously. At the western end of the arena the black-clad disciple of the Lord of Destruction, Craningar Rue, strides purposely forward out of the covered tunnel. He tests the edge of his battleaxe with his thumb, which he then sets to spinning above his head sending the crowd near him reeling back. It was easy to see that Craningar's demeanor spoke of a grim resolve to be victorious on this night, as he knew full well that his dark patron would not countenance any further failures.

At the opposite end of the pit, the subdued crowd breaks into raucous cheers as Meliquades enters. He is walking casually spinning his rapier faster than the eye can see. Like the dawn after a long winter's night, his entry seems to bring life to the Pit. Meliquades turns as a lace handkerchief accidentally dropped by a young women garbed in a pale yellow dress, flutters towards the dirt floor some 15 feet from him. Seeing this, Meliquades tumbles gracefully, snatches up the handkerchief before it hits the floor and in one smooth motion dusts it off and flips to the top of the arena wall. He then hands the kerchief to the young maiden and proceeds to kiss her hand as if a gentleman suitor. The young woman swoons, while all the other women in the crowd onlook and hope beyond hope to trade places with her. With a flourish, Meliquades then stands upon the wall and scans the crowd. To everyone it seemed that is gaze was meant for him or her alone and was saying, "I fight for you". He then springs cat-like from the wall to land in his designated spot to await the start of the fight.

"That's my boy!" said Gremag as he gave Zinj the signal to start the fight.

"COMBATANTS, FIGHT TO THE DEATH," bellowed the Ogre, making the spectators in front of him ears ring.

The combatants hearing the signal sprang into action. Immediately, Craningar Rue, who still had a look of utter disgust on his face from the behaviour of his opponent, began gesturing the arcane ritual to a spell. He releases it at Meliquades before the bard can act. The spell bursts forth and strikes true. As if frozen in ice, Meliquades stops dead in his tracks, his only movement is now his laboured breathing.

Sensing victory, Craningar Rue charges recklessly forward and closes to striking distance. Desperately beseeching the Black Lord to guide his blade, Craningar Rue grips his battle axe in both hands and spins, bringing it down upon the bard while calling forth all of the malevolent strength of his being.

Like everyone else in the arena, Meliquades holds his breath bracing himself for the inevitable killing stroke. The gleaming blade of the axe comes down with the power and fury of a phantom lightening strike as it seems to pass right through Meliquades without touching him. Craningar Rue spins away, as he is thrown off balance by the ferocity of his own attack.

Time seems to stand still in the arena and the silence is palpable. Craningar Rue turns to his opponent's still held form. For a split second he fears he has missed and raises his weapon for a second blow. His fear soon turns to an evil joy as Meliquades head topples from his still upright body. The crowd sits dumbfounded by the macabre spectacle playing out before them. Craningar Rue releases the spell still holding up the headless body of Meliquades, which then crashes lifelessly to the dirt. The Pit is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional sound of sobbing and the thud of the bard's head hitting the floor.

Craningar lifts his arms and screams in supplication to Bane knowing that he will be pleased and that he, Craningar Rue, will be exalted amongst tyrant god's clergy. After completing the dark ritual, Craningar Rue reaches down and picks up Meliquade's head and tosses it into the crowd. By some fortuitous evil twist if fate, it lands in the lap of the young women in the pale yellow dress.

"How would like to give him a little kiss now?" Craningar sneers as the young women faints from her seat. Seeing this he adds, "Oh come on now, don't go and lose your head over Meliquades."

He then turns to the rest of the crowd and shouts, "The Black Hand always strikes down those who stand against him in the end. Defy Bane and Die!" He than spits on the ground and begins to stride out of the arena.

As if awakened from a trance, the crowd erupts into a fever pitch, the fury of which the combatants of the pit could not match. Projectiles fly into the pit thrown by the crowd in hopes of toppling the black knight. Some try to jump into the pit to exact revenge, but are beaten back by the guards. For his part, Craningar Rue ignores the crowd as he continues his exit from the arena. As he enters the long covered tunnel he says to no one in particular, "Bane will take them all in the end."

"Well," said Gremag to his large companion as he watched the melee before him, "so much for the lap of luxury. Lets hope some of them get killed so we save some money." Gremag then turns to leave but stops as if forgetting something. Over his shoulder he remarks to the Ogre, "Maybe you see if you can get the head back."