The eastern gate swings open first and the small form of the mage Whisper strides forth. His red eyes burn with a fierce hatred and those in the crowd can feel his determination to win this fight and break the losing streak. The western gate begins to creep open and the sorcerer known as Nathaniel strides forward.

Torgal stands to address the crowd, his dark cloak fluttering around him on an unseen breeze. "Nathaniel Sather! I understand that it is the wish of both you and Calathra Tealeaf to have an 'unscheduled' match. Well I shall tell you this. When next both of you win your matches, you shall have your chance. But you must both win in that week. The prize money from those two matches will be collected and placed in a pool; I will add 200 gold to that pool and both of you may add whatever else you like to it. The winner will get all!" The crowd cheers loudly at the thought of an impromptu match. Torgal slumps back into the chair as Nathaniel nods his acceptance.

The two magic users begin to advance on each other. Nathaniel firmly grips his mace while Whisper draws two bags from within his robe. As the distance closes Whisper suddenly sends a bag soaring through the air. Nathaniel attempts to twist out of the way but the bag explodes around him coating him with a white gooey substance. The sorcerer glares at the mage but as he attempts to step forward the substances begins to harden, fastening the mage firmly in place. Nathaniel drops the mace to his side and begins to gesture. Unintelligible words pour forth from his mouth as blue energy begins to surround his hands. Arms outstretched the cold energy slams into the young mage driving him back a step.

Nathaniel quickly begins the words to another spell but Whisper casually tosses the second bag in his grip towards the immobile sorcerer. Nathaniel bursts into flames and the words to the spell leave his lips and his hands fizzle blue. The sorcerer screams in agony as the flames sear his flesh. Whisper begins the words to yet another spell and this time a dire rat takes shape several feet to Nathaniel's left. Before the rat is fully formed it begins to charge and slams against the sorcerer, biting burnt flesh and eliciting even more screams. Nathaniel's breathing becomes labored but even as he struggles for breath, the arcane words of yet another spell begin to emerge from his lips. Blue energy crackles across his hands and up his arms and suddenly arcs toward Whisper. The crowd quiets as the arena becomes chill, Whisper staggers back under the force of the magic, his robes torn from the magical ice revealing the white of frostbite.

Whisper struggles to breath as frost leaves his lips, along with blood. Nathaniel smiles through the pain but his eyes widen slightly as the young conjurer remains standing. Nathaniel's look of disbelief is cut short as the dire rat sinks his teeth deep into Nathaniel's scorched flesh. The sorcerer slumps, held in an awkward pose with his feet firmly fixed to the floor. Whisper collapses to the ground, his breathing shallow as the healers rush out to attend both of them.

Torgal slowly rises from his sitting position to address the crowd. "I guess there won't be any extra fights this week…" He spins on his heels and heads for the comfort of his darkened chamber.