Torgal stood motionless. He knew that the filthy vermin was nearby but couldn't sense him. Too much time had been spent in these tunnels lately, trying to find the boundaries of the constantly shifting planar connections. He was determined to block each and every one of them. He had already blocked the entrance to this one but he wasn't finished, he still had to find and dispatch the last of these vermin.

Kobolds… he couldn't believe that three men had fallen to kobolds. The creatures that came with the shifting tunnels weren't always the ones he was used to, and this last batch of kobolds were definitely different.

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye alerted the Arena Master to the impending danger. With practiced grace, Torgal dropped to a knee and in a fluid motion brought his dark blade from its scabbard and parried the incoming blade wide. Continuing his motion, Torgal removed a dagger from his belt and slid it into the kobold's exposed chest. The filthy creature staggered back a step and looked down in shock. Torgal didn't give the kobold a chance to express another emotion, as his dark blade hummed with energy and neatly severed the creature's head from its body. The Arena Master quickly wiped his blade clean and began heading towards the Pit complex above.

"How did the hunting go today?" Melanos gingerly sits himself in his personal chair overlooking the Arena. A nasty red scar runs from his temple to his cheek, crossing his already blinded right eye.

"Better than yours by the look of things." Torgal sits himself in his throne and pours himself a large mug of ale. "What caused that scratch?" Torgal tips the mug back and drains it before pouring himself another.

"I almost pity the guy. We ran across a gang of smugglers. Seems the shifting tunnel brought them here without their knowledge. They were lost and we found them. I don't think they will be finding their way home soon. On the bright side they were smuggling weapons. Those will come in handy if these tunnels keep acting the way they do. Not drinking wine today?" Melanos nods his head at the mug in Torgal's grasp.

"Wine is for when I am relaxed. And I can't say I have been too relaxed lately. I guess we should get on with this fight?" Torgal stands and approaches the railing overlooking the assembled crowd. Packed to capacity the constant drone of the crowd seems almost deafening. But to Torgal it is a pleasure to the ears.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight I have for you the first of three matches that will bring you the most entertainment and violence to date! You will see four competitors attempt to mangle each other instead of the normal two!" The crowd erupts into cheers that threaten to bring the cave complex down on itself. Torgal casts a nervous glance at Melanos whom also seems a touch concerned. "Watch as the bard Melquiades and the undefeated Rannos team up to fight the self-righteous Shanna and the devotion less Ackeron!" The gates immediately begin to swing open as Torgal finishes his words.

From the inky darkness of the east gate comes the form of Melquiades. The crowd gasps in unison as he is followed by a swarm of Rannos's. Each one weaving around the bard and waving to the crowd. Melquiades lifts his voice up in song and suddenly a dozen red roses appear in his hand. Melquiades tosses one to each Rannos as they dart by and the dwarven sorcerer's quickly spread out to the wall and send the flowers up to ladies in the crowd. The ladies gasp and giggle in delight as the flowers burst into a shimmering shower of light. The dwarven forms quickly take a warrior stance behind the stoic Melquiades.

Shanna and Ackeron's entrance is more reserved. The two warriors enter the crowd with little fanfare and quickly take up their position. Ackeron stands in his gleaming armor while Shanna stands with rigid discipline, her finely toned body glistening in the torchlight. A brief smirk crosses her face as she stares at Melquiades. The bard returns a huge smile with more than a suggestive hint.

Suddenly all four combatants break into action. Ackeron and the five Rannos begin the words to divine and arcane magic while Melquiades bursts into a sprint. Ackeron finishes his spell and one of the Rannos's face breaks into fierce concentration, only moments before he dissolves from existence, the remaining dwarves finish the words to their spell in unison. Across the Pit Shanna stifles an enormous yawn and glancing quickly at her partner, she finds him face down in the dirt, snoring loudly. A look of cold control settles on her visage and as Melquiades approaches she lashes out.

The monk's fists, feet, elbows and knees all flow in a practiced and honed dance. Melquiades staggers back but the monk doesn't let up. Stepping into him she continues her assault and with a vicious headbutt she sends the bard unmoving into the dirt. A sneer crosses her face as she looks up at the four remaining Rannos. The dwarves finish another spell and a protective aura briefly flashes around them.

The dwarven sorcerer's each mouth a silent prayer form their fallen comrade before eight sets of eyes lock on Melquiades' assailant. Each one slowly raises their arm and exposes the palm of their hand to the monk. In successive turns a violent jet of water streams forth and all four converge on the same spot, the monk's chest. Shanna is rocked backwards. The dwarves drop their arms to their sides before drawing a deep breath.

"Sleep!" Shanna screams across the arena floor. On command one of the many dwarves drops to the ground, apparently in a deep slumber. The three still standing chuckle to themselves as they begin a slow approach, hand gestures and words indicating that a spell is being formed. A bolt of pure arcane energy streaks from the three and burns itself into the bare flesh of the monk. Quickly begins to mumble a few words in supplication to her god, St. Cuthbert. The burns and bruises covering her body begin to lighten, but only for a second as another three bolts of energy scream towards her. Shanna twists to avoid the missiles but the nine bolts scream towards her with unerring accuracy. Shanna's form crumples in agony and the crowd lets out a thunderous cheer, although many boos and hisses can be heard from those cheering for Ackeron and Shanna as well as those cheering for a longer match.

The three dwarves begin kicking sand on the bodies of the their fallen foes when a voice booms through the crowd. Cutting through the noisy chatter. Torgal stands from his throne and addresses the remaining fighter below. With a brief wave of his hand he dismisses the duplicate images of Rannos. "Congratulations… but the fight is not over. You seem to have a fallen opponent that isn't quite out of the action." The arena master gestures towards the sleeping form of Ackeron. "If you wish your winnings I suggest you finish him off." Torgal grins evilly and seats himself back in his chair. The crowd settles into an uneasy quiet. Rannos merely shrugs his shoulders and calmly walks towards the sleeping form of Ackeron. Dropping his greatsword into the sand beside his sleeping foe he removes his bolas from his belt. The crowd watches on with visible curiosity, wondering what this strange dwarf will do next. Twisting Ackeron's arms behind him, Rannos quickly begins to hog tie the cleric and finishes by gagging him with a strip of cloth from his own robe. "Does that suffice? I hardly see the point in causing your clerical staff more work than needed." Rannos's words carry a biting tone as he waits for the response to his underlying challenge.

Torgal's eyes darken at the hidden challenge to his authority. "Rannos, you surprise me with your compassion and sense. I didn't figure you to be such the virtuous one. I shall consider this to be an acceptable form of victory." Torgal bows deeply to the assembled crowd. "I am pleased to announce Rannos and Melquiades victors of this battle!" The crowd roars their approval.

Sharvista gazes from the eastern gate entrance towards the sorcerer Rannos. At least one of them isn't a blood thirsty animal. She smiles to herself enters the arena, her clerical staff in tow.