Melanos glances up from the sheets of parchment on his lap. "Aye, the arm bands have been delivered and equipped. These reports from Alsimane are rather interesting. Since Ivan and his little experiment with thought capture we have been able to keep a close watch on some of our patrons. Its amazing what they try to get away with when they think no one is watching." Melanos carefully places the stack of parchment on a mahogany end table before standing and stretching. "Although some of the reports are a little exhaustive, its got to be that excruciating military eye for detail the legionnaire has."

"Well, in a few short hours the match will begin. I guess I had better finalize the last of the details." Torgal strides toward his chamber door before stopping. Glancing over his shoulder he looks at Melanos for a second. "Make sure that Sharvista gets an invitation to join us tonight…" Torgal turns and leaves quickly, not quite sure why he wants to subject the young priestess to tonight's special match.

"Ladies and Gentlemen and all others that don't quite fit those categories!" The crowd hisses, cheers and boos loudly as the anticipation of the season's final match builds to explosive levels. "Tonight as you all know is the final match for our first season of fights!" The crowd cheers loudly and stomps and claps to raise the noise level to a thunderous roar. Torgal raises his arms and slowly lowers them back to his side, bringing the crowd to silence. "But tonight's match is a special one like the three you have witnessed before. Tonight four combatants will fight each other for supremacy and there will be no teams. But that is not the most exciting part. The excitement is that each of our friends on the sandy arena floor will be wearing an armband. This band will link them as such that when one suffers pain they may all suffer pain. May I present to you tonight's fighters! The unstoppable dwarven sorcerer, Rannos the Fatherless! The filthy hobgoblin known as Crwag Raag! The dark cleric of Bane, Craningar Rue! And lets not forget our devotionless cleric, Ackeron!" Torgal signals for the gates to be opened. "Let the battle begin!" The crowd breaks into a thunderous roar that begins to shake the entire cavern. Small bits of rock and debris begin to rain down unnoticed on the crowd.

A small swarm of dwarves burst into the arena and the crowd cheers loudly as the many forms of Rannos run around each other, crossing through each other and generally causing confusion for the eyes of the crowd. The five dwarves come to a rest along the north wall of the arena, directly across from Torgal's balcony. A momentary exchange of glares pass between the Arena Master and the sorcerer Rannos. The crowd's attention is already back on the eastern gate.

A putrid rot fills the nostrils of the crowd and many gag on the noxious odor while others actively empty their stomachs contents. The filthy and hairy form of the hobgoblin Crwag drifts into the arena, eerily gliding across the arena sands. Boos fill the chamber from everyone except a small contingent of hobgoblins and goblins near the back, who make enough noise to startle and quiet those around them, mostly out of fear.

The lights of the arena briefly dim and the shadows around the western gate lengthen as the dark cleric of Bane strides into the arena. Craningar smiles an evil grin and as the dim light reflect malevolently off his black armor and shield. Testing his battleaxe with a few quick swings he strides over to stand below Torgal's balcony on the south wall.

The last to enter the arena does so with little fanfare. Ackeron steps from the darkness of the gate, a solemn look upon his face. The crowd cheers for him but the devotionless cleric seems distant. With his sword in hand he scans the face of his three competitors, before donning a mask of resolve and waiting for the signal to begin.

The four combatants bolt into action. Rannos immediately begins the words to an arcane spell while the hobgoblin Crwag stands motionless, his thoughts manifesting into a creature of astral origin only feet from Rannos and his spell casting images. Ackeron and Craningar sneer at each other before they both launch into spells of their own. Ackeron's limbs slowly begin to stiffen as Craningar finishes the words to his spell and begins moving forward. Ackeron grits his teeth and continues to recite the words to his own magic, fighting to remain focused and fighting to remain mobile. With a last shout the words end and three dark rats coalesce in front of the Banite. Craningar curses as he prepares to wade through his new found foes.
The astral creature, a large crystalline beetle from Crwag's mind, begins to advance on the many forms of Rannos. Rannos smirks at the creature and its motionless master as he grips his shortspear and prepares to do battle.

The beetle lashes out at one of the many forms of Rannos and although its claws dig in deep, Rannos merely freezes before the images explodes into a thousand moats of light. Dwarf answers back as a four dwarves stab repeatedly into the beetle, the construct merely turns to face the next image. Meanwhile, a second form begins to take shape in the middle of the arena. Craningar once again begins to speak his arcane words and again Ackeron grits his teeth as the familiar magic tries to rivet him in place. Suddenly the magic stops and a look of complete horror crosses Craningar face as he remains frozen and rigid. The crowd erupts into cheers as the first effects of the matches magic has been felt! Torgal smiles from his balcony above. Ackeron wastes no time as his rats and sword cross the distance to dispatch the Dark Cleric.

Team Rannos continues its pitched battle with the crystalline beetle as another one lumbers into the fray. With a quick stroke of luck Rannos drives home his spear and the first beetle dissolve into astral nothingness, only to be replaced by the next one which again strikes out and destroys another image. As the image disappears Rannos can feel his skin beginning to burn, a quick glance at the hobgoblin tells the sorcerer who has brought this new found pain upon him.

Ackeron slowly steps up to Craningar and smiles wickedly at the cleric. Slowly he drives his sword through the Banite's chest. Unbearable pain crosses Craningar's face as the magic that held him wears off and his lifeless body crumples to the ground. The rats continue to chew on any of the cleric's exposed flesh. Many in the crowd cheer wildly as Ackeron pays Craningar back for his quick victory over the devotionless one in a previous match. Ackeron turns his head to face his next target… Rannos.

Rannos grits his teeth against the burning pain as he attempts to fight off the remaining beetle creature. Multiple images stab at the beetle when suddenly the pain stops and Crwag screams in agony. The hair the hobgoblin's filthy body smolders. Ackeron squirms uncomfortably in his armor as the hobgoblin's burning pain transfers to him as well. Ackeron shifts his attention to the putrid form of Crwag, knowing full well that attacking Rannos right now would only bring pain back upon himself. As Ackeron charges towards Crwag, Rannos dispatches the final beetle with a sharp jab of his spear. Crwag brings a crossbow up an level's it at the charging form of Ackeron and sends a bolt flying. Metal head slams into the armored form of Ackeron and shreds through the metal, imbedding itself in the cleric's chest. Ackeron doesn't even slow as he raises his sword and brings it down viciously on the matted fur hide of the hobgoblin. Crwag screams again in agony as he begins to float quickly away from the enraged cleric.

Rannos watches carefully as the other two combatants square off. The resourceful sorcerer and his many images carefully survey the battle, waiting for any indication of who the 'blessed' target is. Ackeron dashes after the fleeing form of Crwag as the hobgoblin loads another crossbow and sends it flying at the cleric, the metal bolt ricochets of the stone walls and buries itself in the sand. Ackeron doesn't relent and once again his blade screams at the hobgoblin. Crwag darts back but not before a thin line of blood is drawn against his thigh. Rannos smiles from across the sands and quickly speaks a few arcane words. Blue bolts of energy streak from his hands and slam into Crwag, knocking him back and into the arena wall.

Crwag drops his crossbow into the dirt and brings his spear around in front of him. Keeping the end between himself and Ackeron he slowly drifts away from Rannos. Uncertainty becomes apparent as the hobgoblin contemplates the safety of attacking either opponent. The crowd screams wildly at Ackeron to finish the creature off. A grim expression crosses the faithless's face as he bring his sword in a third time for a vicious strike. In the blink of an eye the hobgoblin's spear pierces the cleric's armor and shatters the Ackeron's chest before protruding from his back. The crowd drops into stunned silence as Crwag's eyes widen into pure agony. Two wounds burst open upon the hobgoblin's form as blood gushes from his wounds. Confusion reigns supreme as Ackeron stands shocked while Crwag drops lifeless to the ground. Panic strike's Ackeron as he struggle to remove the spear lodged in his body before the protective magic wears off. Rannos struggles to his feet, the immense pain he felt indicating the power of the attack Crwag scored.

The bloody spear drops to the ground as Ackeron slowly reaches down to grab his sword. The images of Rannos pull forth bolas and begin swinging them around their heads. Ackeron picks up the pace and traces a thin line in the sand with his sword tip as he runs across the sandy floor. Rannos releases his bolas and sends them sailing. Ackeron nimbly leaps the projectile and pulls his blade around into a mighty arc, the sword connects with Rannos and yet another image bursts into a shower of lights. The remaining two forms of Rannos cautiously back away.

And so the pace of battle began to slow as Ackeron pressed the attack, unconcerned with the repercussions of hitting Rannos while the sorcerer is in a state of grace. While Rannos the fatherless fends off attack after attack, searching and hoping for the opening and certainty he needs for a successful attack on the devotionless cleric. The attack and counterattack routine continues as the last image of Rannos disappears and all that is left is a Dwarf and Human.

Ackeron suddenly feints to the side and drives a vicious cut home and Rannos both cringes at the pain as well as the knowledge that a successful attack on Ackeron would mean only more pain. The contest continues until a small cut on Rannos' arm provokes a flinch in Ackeron's face. Rannos raises his palm and nearly touching Ackeron's chest he releases the pent up fury of the Mark of Water. The blue sigil disappears from his forehead as a powerful torrent of water smashes against the cleric's chest. Ackeron stumbles back in surprise and agony, his armor dented and mangled. With a fierce sneer he spit into the sand and leaves a small patch of red. Wiping away the blood from his lips he staggers forward, the pain and torture of his mangled armor pressing into a bruised chest, and lashes out with his sword. A dark line of red appears on Rannos' upper thigh before peeling open to reveal the nasty wound that it is. Rannos, scrambles backward, his leg threatening to give way as Ackeron presses forward, breathing hard, red spittle dripping from his mouth.

Ackeron continues to swing furiously, little regard for the consequences of a hit on Rannos. The dwarf wields his spear with proficiency as he turns away attack after attack. A momentary lapse though leaves him gasping for air as the tip of Ackeron blade cuts a clean line across his chest. Rannos, blood pouring from several wounds begins to waver as the significant blood loss wears him down. Ackeron grins through red teeth and stabs his blade at the faltering sorcerer. The blade pierces Rannos' chest but it is Ackeron that screams in agony and with rapid reflexes pulls the blade out quickly. The cleric's eyes gloss over and he staggers back a few steps. Ackeron quickly begins mouthing the words to a divine spell, praying to whatever god will listen to him to help mend his wounds. The gods don't look favorably upon those that turn their backs to them. Rannos watches as his own wounds begin to close and the pain and fatigue subside. Ackeron glares in anger, first at the gods and then at his healed enemy.

Torgal smiles as the crowd cheers. The fight was proving to be more entertaining than he thought, and the sounds of the crowd promised that the profits would be entertaining as well. He does frown though as his thoughts drift back to the scathing letter Sharvista returned to him regarding her thoughts on the barbarism of this particular match. Torgal breaths deeply, his love of money and violence once again outweighing his desire for peaceful companionship… a companionship he keeps telling himself he will seek when he is satisfied… unfortunately he has yet to be satisfied. He shakes his head to banish the thoughts before returning his gaze to the carnage below.

Rannos stands his ground and waits for Ackeron to make his move. The faithless cleric attacks with reckless abandon. The blood streaked blade cuts another wound in the cleric Rannos, superficial but yet again the cleric flinches in pain and Rannos immediately begins spewing forth the words to his arcane magic. Three bolts of pure arcane energy rip from his fingertips and strike the cleric. One splits his banded armor, another burns into his shoulder while the third and final missile scorches the cleric's face. Ackeron drops his blade as his hands reach for his burned and blinded eyes, blue energy ripples through his body before he collapses into the sand. Rannos breathes heavily as the clerics rush in to tend the fallen Ackeron.

Rannos stares up into the crowd and smiles as the fans cheer with pure joy at the spectacle they just witnessed. Flowers, coins and small gifts rain down from the seats as the assembled guests show their appreciation to Rannos and the fallen combatants. Torgal grins briefly as he watches Rannos absorb the attention, the fatherless one finely beginning to realize the glory that victory brings… and if anyone knows victory it is the sorcerer Rannos.