"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Torgal raises his hands in a gesture meant to encompass everyone assembled. "I thank you for your patience. As many of you have probably heard the rumors already I will explain what has been going on here of late." Pausing momentarily the Master of the Pit points towards the eastern gate. Slowly the gate begins to open of its own accord and two huge guards push a frail man before them into the Pit. The prisoner, for he has his hands bound behind his back and a hood on his face, stumbles forward and lands face first in the sand. Gasps of disgust can be heard from the crowd and the display.

"I would like to ask those with a weak stomach to avert your eyes for a moment. I will explain everything in a moment." Torgal turns to the guards. "Remove the hood!" One of the guards step forward and pull the man roughly to his feet before yanking the cloth hood from the man's head. The crowd bursts into gasps of shock and outrage as their eyes take in the scene. The man's eyes have been gouged from his skull and his mouth has been crudely sewn shut. The sounds from the crowd indicate more than a few weak stomachs that hadn't heeded the warning.

"This is what happens to those who feel it their duty to interfere in my business and risk the life of myself, my friends and my patrons. This is Eldamer Grouspile. He was the leader of a group of cultist that felt they didn't like my plans. His cult is no more and in seconds neither will he. I do this as a warning to others who would oppose me, and as an demonstration of my concern for those I call friends. I call each of you assembled here my friends." Torgal drops his hands to his side and a look of resignation crosses his face. A brief gesture with his left hand and the guards quickly back away. The man staggers forward uncertain of his fate but well aware that these moments are his last.

From high atop his balcony the Arena Master speaks a few soft words and a small bit of green energy streaks towards Eldamer. The energy strikes him in the chest and a burst of green mist envelops the man. His screams can be heard only for a second before his body begins to dissolve rapidly. Within mere seconds all that is left is a large green circular patch in the sand that small wisps of green energy waft from. The crowd silently watches the scene.

"With that nasty business out of the way, let me introduce tonight's real entertainment. Flegmar, the mystical Troglodyte has decided that tonight he would like to dine on our newest Pit competitor, Ralmauthor of Colors! Let this battle begin!" The crowd cheers loudly in an attempt to forget the disturbing event that had just unfolded.

"You laid the justice on a bit thick don't you think sir?" Melanos asks from the shadows inside the room. "And do you intend to answer why this Eldamer and his friends were opposing you in the first place?"

"I need the crowd's favor right now and once the plans have been completed there won't be a need to tell them anything. They will be as happy then as they are now." Torgal's eyes flash red for a moment. "I think we should concentrate on the match for now."

The hooded and cloaked figure of Flegmar strides into the arena from the open eastern gate. Clouded in mystery, his hands folded in front of him, he sniffs the air, tongue darting in and out. A slight touch of disgust crosses his face at the smell of the greenish mist. From the western gate strolls the image of pride. Ralmauthor, dressed in simple loose breeches steps onto the sand. Tied to his back are two quarterstaffs and two javelins. His dark skinned body is covered by several tattooed letters and numbers. With calm focus he stands ready for battle. Many women from the crowd can be heard admiring his form and demeanor.

The battle commences with Flegmar cautiously backing towards the wall, struggling to determine his opponents abilities. Ralmauthor wastes little time in crossing the distance to the troglodyte wizard. Arcane words begin to flow from the toothed jaw of Flegmar as a shimmering field of magical energy flashes into existence moments before the bare-chested warrior lashes out with his foot. Arcane energy cracks and the warrior stumbles back a step. As Flegmar releases yet another spell, this time forming greenish blue energy around his hands, the warrior unleashes a series of strikes with his fists, feet and elbows. All of them turned away by Flegmar's arcane spells. A brief flicker of a smile crosses the troglodyte's face. "Keep tenderizing yourself, saves me having to do it afterwards." With those words spoken a black beam of energy, interlaced with the greenish-blue energy from his hands strikes Ralmauthor in the chest. His color pales drastically and he stumbles backwards, his agility keeping him from ending up in the sand. Confusion crosses the warrior's face and he fumbles at his belt pouch and draws forth a stone. With uncertain movements he tosses it at the feet of the wizard and the cavern rumbles as the stone explodes. Flegmar covers his ears and cries in pain.

The troglodyte quickly recovers though and speaks again at Ralmauthor. "You are indeed a formidable opponent," he hisses. "Why don't you discard your weapons and use just one hand to fight me. You are definitely talented enough." An arcane undertone carries on his words and Ralmauthor smiles, his eyes glazing for a moment.

"Foul creature, " he says as he tosses his weapons from his back, "it would be my pleasure to destroy you with but one hand." The warrior punctuates the statement by delivering a wicked hand strike to the troglodytes throat, only to have it stop inches short as it connects with the wizards protective enchantments.

Flegmar begins spewing forth arcane words as spell after spell streak towards the tattooed warrior. Ralmauthor dodges a globe of green acid, a ray of searing cold frost and an electrical burst. Ralmauthor twists and turns to avoid the arcane energy but a loud cough in his ear stuns him for a second and causes him to hold his ear in pain.

The troglodyte backs away from the stunned martial artist and tosses a leather bag at him. The bag strike him firmly but the nimble warrior manages to avoid most of the gooey spray as he jumps back. The monk drives forward, slower than normal and attempts another attack. This one pierces the lizardman's wards and connects with his jaw. Shaken the wizard backs up a step and turns as if to move away. With surprising agility the troglodyte spins back and launches another bag at the warrior. This ones burst into a ball of flame and quickly ignites the warrior's pants. Flegmar laughs hysterically, licking his lips, "Tenderized and now cooked! Going to be so tasty!"

Flegmar crouches low and a very feral aspect crosses over him. Ralmauthor extinguishes the last of the flames only to have the troglodyte lunge at him with fangs and claws bared. The battle quickly degenerates into a flash of fists, claws, feet and teeth as the two ravage each other. Both lands blows but in the end Ralmauthor staggers, blood draining from several wounds, he collapses into the sand. Flegmar glances up at Torgal on the balcony momentarily before drawing two daggers forth and digging into dinner…