The Arena of Death (2007)

by ikim

Ok, here we are, for the first round of the Arena of Death.

The arena itself is nothing but a hole in the ground, about 5 meters deep (about 16 feet) with a diameter of 15 meters (about 47 feet)
Ikimk’s gnoblars have been working for months to prep the arena in time, and they did a swell job; too bad most of them died during the excavation, but they must be happy since they fell for a good cause: Ikimik’s wealth and pride.
There is only one entrance to the pit (and therefore, only one exit), with a big fence closing the pathway: while there will be two people, entering the pit on their own legs, only one will exit standing; the other will exit with his feet on front.
There are two seats, one seat is Ikimk’s; the other is empty. The other watchers are crowded on the borders of the pit, watching down. Needless to say: the front rows are the best ones, not only because from there you could see the tiniest little detail (and you know how many things there are to see, from a dead body), but these are the ones that can actually be splashed with the contestants’ blood.
The only rule, for the watchers, is to avoid throwing stuff in the pit during each battle... but Ikimik knows most of his ogres won’t follow such rule, as it more of an advise, than an actual imperative.

Among the many ogres around, gathered here from the many tribes, moving through out the old world, a person can see lots of gnoblars cheering for their favourite gladiator; there are also elves, who don’t look too comfortable being among all those ogres, covered in mud, filth and blood. Somebody also saw some more elves, but they seemed to have disappeared within the crowd.
A few warriors from the chaos wastes showed up, supporting their chosen champions. Just near these, there were more greenskins, not gnoblars, but big black orcs. Oh, these guys were even worst than the ogres: they were messier, they were dirtier, they were bickering... they are only three, but they made as much noise as forty ogres, and you have got to give ‘em credit for this.
There were also some humans, looking around, watching out not to be crushed on the floor: they won’t have a fine look at the fight, as much as they will mind more to avoid being stepped on.

Near Ikimik, there was an empty seat, that, just about the beginning of the first battle was filled:  Duke Leopold the Second, son of Duke Leopold, the one who hired Ikimik’s grandfather, a long time ago, and the one against whom Ikimik has declared open war.
Though, these celebrations have to be a cheering moment (not for the loosers, though) and, for the duration of the games, and for such period only, all the races have signed a treaty in which they have declared a momentarily peace... will it last? Duke Leopold will be sure to be out of Ikimk’s reach, right after the games have ended, or he will be in big trouble.

Batt.1.

Suddenly, a cheer, meaning the first two contestants were approaching the corridor, leading down, into the arena.
A deep voice calls their names: Urgok Skullsplitter and Gyrathor - Change Golem of Tzeentch; and the crowd couldn’t get a grip on itself, and started jumping around, cheering and applauding.
Urgok  is a huge orc, and not only a normal orc: a black orc. As he walked through hall way, he didn’t even give a glimpse at his opponent, walking next to him, as if he predicted he won’t have a hard time against him. The other orcs, on the stands, got even more hipped, but he didn’t bother looking at them, as if he didn’t even hear all that noise.
Gyrathor is an ogre; thus, he is not like any other ogre Ikimik and his tribe have seen before: he is so much covered in armour that you can hardly see his bare skin; but, mostly, he has a big, dirty, filthy bandage on his eyes. As he moved, you could feel there was something fishy about this enormous guy (and no, it’s not the smell): as if he was covered in some sort of magic aura. You could see that anyone that got near him had some sort of vibration: Gyrathor power was visible to bare eyes.


The two entered the pit, and a gnoblar managed to close the gate, and secure the lock, firmly.
They took position, about 3 meters apart, and, as soon as they stoped, waiting for a sign from Ikimk, the crowd, who was cheering just a second before, shut up (even the orcs), and it was all quiet.

Ikimik yelled, and the battle began.

Urgok moved faster than the ogre, and BAM!!! he started hitting the enemy with the huge choppa he was holding, in sheer frenzied blood-thirst.
Urgok hit the ogre, and moved so fast, he managed to hit his enemy numerous times. The ogre’s skin, though, was too thick, and Gyrathor managed to get out of trouble with only a big dent on his armour plate, cracking it.
Gyrathor didn’t just stand there, and while the orc was furiously attacking him, he raised his huge weapon, to smash it down on the orc’s back. The swift orc moved away from the tenderiser’s range, to charge, again, a second afterwards.
This time the orc’s frenzy was even more violent, but the ogre, even though being so bulky and big, managed to avoid most of the attacks.
Again, the tenderiser was brought upon the ogre’s head, and down again, to hit the orc right on the head. Urgok was still standing after this strike, but he sure felt it. He was a bit doddering, but, this didn’t reduce his blood-thirst, and, even though he was a lot slower than before, managed to find the right spots, and wounded the ogre multiple times.
Gyrathor was still standing, when Urgok got away from him, with blood splashes on his face. The orc was watching his opponent, who, this time, didn’t pull his weapon over his head. When Gyrathor dropped his weapon, with a clang, the crowd stopped cheering, to start, again when the ogre fell on the ground, with a big splash of mud, splattering the front rows.
The three orcs, on the stands, were the first to make noise, followed, a second later, by the others watchers.
The other ogres were standing still, in silence, as if the didn’t believe their eyes.

A bunch of gnoblars entered the pit, and heavily pulled Gyrathor out of the arena, leaving a big chute in the mud.
Urgok, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling very good, but he managed to exit the pit on his feet, even though, holding the choppa as a cane, more than a weapon. He will have few days to recover.

The first round of the battle ended with a feast for the winner: Urgok Skullsplitter; a feast the ogres didn’t attend to.

Batt.2.

The night’s celebrations ended quite late, but Ikimik’s “village” was so big, that the gladiators, participating at the Arena of Death didn’t have problems falling asleep. Only one of the sixteen (now fifteen) wasn’t seen in his tent: Gharknar. Few people, mostly drunken and over hipped by the whole environment, saw him walking around the tents, wielding his sword, as if he was prepared for war, any minute.

His shield was firmly strapped at his left arm and, as he moved, his armour made a deep metallic noise, sort of like as if Gharknar’s body wasn’t actually under the metal plates. The chaos champion reached an halt, as he reached the stables. He moved his head to a side, to meet the eyes with a steed, that was standing right beside him. The horse snickered, as if he was actually responding to unsaid words by Gharkar. After that, nobody saw the champion, again, during the night, as he showed up only about twenty minutes before the start of the battles, riding his horse, barded and kitted for war.

Ghusk Ironskin, as all the ogres participating at the tournament, had separate tents, from the rest of the gladiators. Ikimik never had a good relationship with the ironskins, as once, a few year back, he had a fight over a slave giant, with one of Ghark’s henchmen. Ever since, the Greatheads and the Iroskins never went along, but this time, Ikimik liked Ghusk. As per most of the contestants, the days before the beginning of the tournament, Ghusk was used to walking concentrated, through out the village, with his weapon held tightly in his hands. The morning before his first fight, against Gharknar, though, Ghusk Ironskin was sitting still, with his eyes open, staring at the pit (or of what could be seen of the pit, from his elevated position). He knew that that day, he was going to make boxed meat of any one, who had the bad idea of walking under his tenderiser.

A gnoblar called him, telling him it was his time to fight. Ghusk Ironskin stood up, and walked toward the pit, to find himself walking next to a huge horse, that, near the ogre, looked less big and bulky.
As the two contestants walked through the corridor, they realized they couldn’t both fit in it, but neither of them stood ground, and the mud walls crumbled, when the ogre’s shoulder and the horse riding knight’s stirrups scraped them.

The battle began so quickly, the crowd didn’t even have time to realize what was happening. Ikimik yelled to begin, but a second before he did, Gharknar began his charge.
Ghusk Ironskin, who wielded his tenderiser steady in his hands, didn’t even have time to raise the heavy weapon, that the chaos knight was already against his opponent, throwing blows with his sword. By the end of Gharknar’s charge, lasted only a few seconds, there was very little left of Ghusk, and the battle ended, in same manner as it began: with the crowd that didn’t even realize what had just happening.
Ghusk fell heavily on the grund. Gharknar didn’t even look back, and left the pit, pushing the gate open, crushing the gnoblar, that didn’t manage to open it in time, against the mud wall.
Ikimik wasn’t amused: another ogre fell, and this time it was one of his favourites.

Batt.3

“come on people, time for another fight”, said a squeaking voice, within the tent, where all the gladiators where waiting. “Gharz Elfripper and Bernog the Fathead. Come with me”, continued the gnoblar. The two ogres didn’t expect to fight so soon; actually, they were still eating a boar, the gnoblars cooked for breakfast. With the fingers still greasy from the gravy, Gharz got a hold of the little gnoblar and raised him to meet his eyes, and, with meat still in his mouth said “you wouldn’t be so tough if Ikimik didn’t order us to not eat you”; “well, he did, so let me go”, replied the gnoblar, and he freed himself. As soon as the three of them were out of the tent, Gharz “accidentally” stepped on greenskin who was pushed in the mud, unconscious.
Right before approaching the pit, Lucius Greathead, son of Ikimik’s, got near Bernog Fathead, and asked him if they were related in any way. Bernog, who knew Lucius didn’t have all his marbles in the right places, didn’t bother with him, and gently pushed him away.

The corridor leading to the pit was a curved ditch in the ground, about twenty meters long (61 feet), and the ogres started fighting from the beginning, since Gharz wanted to walk in front of Bernog. Bernog, seeing his opponent in front of him, grabbed Gharz’s shoulder (leaving a hand print with the gravy) and pulled him back. As a reaction, the ogre turned around and punched Bernog, missing. The fight had begun, and the gladiators didn’t even make it in the pit.
Some gnoblars tried to divide the two, but some got smashed and crushed by the ogres’ gut plates, others, seeing what happened to their fellow greenskins, remained away, yelling: “stop it... stop it... Ikimik will be mad... very mad... and he will be mad at us...”, poking the ogres with their sticks.
But Ikimik, on the other hand, was very amused. He was tiered of all this coolness and calmness of the contestants. He wanted to see some nice fights, and these two ogres were giving him what he wanted, in pure ogre style.

Like a flash, Bernog stopped fighting, as the necklace he was wearing sunk in his chest. The ogre seemed like choking for a second, but than he started fighting again, even though a big blue bruise appeared right where the necklace touched his skin.
Even Gharz seemed to have stopped fighting, as if he was wondering, but... no, it was all a tactic, and he just started blowing with his longsword against Bernog’s huge head, wounding him several times. Even the little gits, sticking out of Gharz’s pouches tried to hit the other ogre, but they missed miserably.
Bernog was seriously injured by Gharz’s blows, but he managed to get a firm grip at his siegebraker and strike it against the enemy, hitting him right in the stomach. As Gharz was hit, his necklace shone, brightening his face with a bluish light, but the hit was so strong, he was pushed backwards, ending his fall in the very centre of the pit. Bernog’s siegebreaker, though, fell off of his hands, with a wide crack on the handle. As Ghark was still in the ground, trying to stand up in the least time as possible, the gnoblars, that previously were hiding in Bernog’s pants, came out, trying to poke Gharz, yet not doing anything.
As Gharz got up, he charged hi opponent for the second time, with his sword right in front of him, and hit the ogre once more but, as soon as the it was blown, Bernog’s necklace flashed, just like Gharz’s had done before.
Bernog responded, but Gharz’s necklace saved his owner once more.
The two kept on fighting for a long period of time, striking and blowing, and the crowd was going mad, as they never had expected something that amusing. Unexpectedly, the two ogres went to a stop. Their chests were pounding; the sweat was pouring down their faces. Even their gnoblars were exausted.
Gharz moved swiftly, as much as an ogre can move swiftly, and made his last charge movement. Bernog seemed like not expecting such blow, and found himself heavily wounded just over the gut plate. He gathered his last strengths, and managed to bite a gnoblar he was keeping in a pocket, but this didn’t help him: Gharz’s long sword stuck in his chest bones.

The crowd yelled even harder, and Ikimik stood up and applauded the ogres. Even Duke Leopold the second applauded, yet with a grinning face, as if he didn’t like the sight of a sword stuck in one’s chest.

“Hail to the winner” Roared Ikimik, “and may the Great Maw preserve the looser, who pleased me, with his fighting skills. Too bad he won’t be around to tell the story”, then he laughed.

Batt.4.

It was sunset when Ikimik declared he wanted to see another battle.
The sun was halfway behind the horizon, and torches were being lit. The pit was surrounded by no less than on hundred long torches, each as tall as an adult man, with flames that reached the height of an ogre.
Ikimik was still laughing and talking to his son, Brutus the Handsome, and to the other ogres, when he felt a cold breeze of air behind him, that made him shiver. He looked behind, and didn’t see anything. The same thing happened to Duke Leopold, who literally jumped out of his seat, as if he was pulled by some sort of sling. The crowd was still whispering and talking about the last battle, and how well Bernog stopped Gharz’s blow, and how fast Gharz was, and how stupid looked all those pesky gnoblars, running around the mud, trying to poke the enemy ogre in the eyes... though, you could see people that just halted talking, as if struck by lighting, and than, as if nothing happened, began talking again, miming this or that pose.

Some of the Asur, who arrived that same day, to support their champions, started mumbling, looking around with a concerned expression. They felt something wasn’t just right. They stared, concentrated, at the crowd, but couldn’t make anything, out of what was happening.

One of the torches went off, increasing the darkness that was growing more and more, minute by minute. One of the gnoblars, in charge of lights rushed to light it up again, and as soon as he did, the next one went off too. It was actually quite fun, looking at the little green bugger running around the camp, to light the torches.
“Muft be za kool wind”, said one of the orcs, who was than pushed in a pile a poop by one of his fellow mates, which started laughing. But the Asur weren’t laughing, and looked even more concerned. They put their hands on the hilts of their swords, preparing for anything.

Gilamesh arrived that moment in the pit, yelling “I’m ready to fight. Show yourself”. Actually he didn’t really say that, but most people interpreted his shout as so.
The ogre was fully covered with tatoos, showing most of the battle he fought. The incredible thing about the tattoos, was that, as he flexed his muscles, the figures drawn on his skin seemed like moving, as a marionette theatre. There was a tattoo showing how an ogre (Gilamesh himself, apparently) ripped the heart out of an elf, and another where he was beating a fully grown rhinox on the head.
Strapped to Gilamesh’s back there were two guns, each as long as a human, and opened his arms, pointing the guns in opposite directions. His head was turning swiftly from one side to the other, in search of his opponent.

Ikimik yelled to begin, but nothing happened. Ikimik yelled again, and, again, nothing happened.
Leopold stood up, and said he was tired and he was leaving, but Ikimik gave him a grave look, and the human put himself to seat.

Something undefined moved in the pit. Gilamesh was still turning around, looking for his prey... but who was the prey, really?
Something moved again, and Gilamesh shot twice with his guns, missing, what ever he was aiming for. A black figure moved out of a shadow, as if it was the shadow itself to move. Suddenly it was all clear: it was Manbane, the dark elf assassin.
Gilamesh threw away his guns, and got a hold of his long sword, wielding it in combat position. Manbane took advantage of the shadows, and moved again, this time toward his enemy, striking with his sword, but hitting the thick armour, the ogre was covered in. Gilamesh was fast enough to make a blow with his sword, but the blade cut the air: Manbane hid in the shadows once again.
Once again the dark elf charged the ogre, this time, making two big cuts, in the ogre’s skin. The Ogre didn’t even feel the pain, and slashed his blade, guessing where the elf was passing, cutting him in half.

The high elfs were quite relieved for the outcome of the battle, and, as Gilamesh reached the crowd, who was cheering him, they gave him a look of appreciacion.
The cuts dealt by Manbane were deep and sore, and he had to be cured, if he wanted to continue the tournament. A bunch of gnoblars took care of him.
Now Gilamesh can tattoo one more battle on his skin; the problem would be finding where to, as al most all his body was already covered with tattoos.

Batt.5

The bonfire, lit for the feasting crowd and gladiators, was almost out when a loud squeaking scream, that could have broken the eardrums of any person near by, was heard from the gnoblars’ tent.
All the gnoblars woke; some moved quickly within the tent, and some others went out of it, wielding a fork as a halberd, looking for something. Multiple couples of little red eyes flashed in the night, lit by the smooth red light of the incandescent wood, went moving fast, in an uncommon order and synchronism.
One of Ikimik’s serving gnoblars, upon the Tyrant’s order, went to see what was happening, and entered the tent, to see Sgt.Smalbin, hiding under a rat-skin blanket, surrounded by no less than twenty other gnoblars, to protect him.
“What is happening, here? You woke my lord up, and he is not happy when he wakes up” said the gnoblar, pointing at the hiding greenskin. In fact Ikimik wasn’t happy at all, and a sign of his unhappiness could be seen by the gnoblar still touching his ass, in all probability kicked just a few minutes before.
Sgt.Smalbin was still shaking when he stuck his nose out of the rat-skin blanket. He had some sort of prosthesis strapped to his nose: it was a wooden pointy stick strapped so tight, that the skin around his eyes wasn’t green, but of a pale, grey-ish color.
“I saw it”, said Smalbin, “It was slithering in our tent, look... look”, and with a shaking finger, pointed a metal, star shaped object, halfway jabbed in the wood of his bed.
Other squeaking voices came from outside the tent, followed by a big roar.
This time the whole camp was woken up.
Some of Smalbin’s gnoblars had gone in the stables and, freed their honcho’s rhinox, in order to bring it to him; though the rhinox wasn’t so pleased to be waken up, and charged the greenskins inside the camp, ending his ruthless charge right inside Smalbin’s tent, crushing it.

The morning after, the tents were up again, and everything got back to normal.
Twenty gnoblars tried to govern the baby rhinox, who had two patches on his eyes, in order to bring him toward the pit. On the beast’s back sit firmly Sgt.Smalbin, who was wielding a flail as big as him, and a crown-like helmet. He didn’t look so frightened anymore; in fact, he looked very sturdy and confident on top of his rhinox. The prosthesis on his nose was bigger and longer than the one he had the night before, and he looked like a green Pinocchio.
Apparently being on top of the rhinox gave the gnoblar the self-assurance he didn’t have on foot.
With some difficulties, the serving gnoblars conducted the rhinox in the pit, and, when he reached the middle of the pit, they took away the patches, and the beast started looking around.

The crowd was ready to see another fight, and the rhinox sure was a nice addition.
“I thought beasts weren’t allowed in the tournament”, said Duke Leopold to Ikimik’s ear. Ikimik didn’t bother replying, but looked at the Duke as to say “I make the rules; I break the rules. Now sit back and enjoy the ride”.

No sign of Gretch, the skaven assassin, though.
Ikimik new Gretch quite well, as the Greathead tribe and the clan Eshin battled front to front against a Nuln battalion. The Greatheads suffered many losses under the empire fire power, but the eshins saved the day, having sent Gretch to kill the Lieutenant who was leading the battalion, dropping the morale, and making the whole battalion flee in panic. We cannot really say that Ikimik and the Greatheads have a  good relationship with the pesky rats, but there is some sort of unwritten agreement,  among them.

Ikimik’s serving gnoblar called out Gretch’s name, but nothing happened; when suddenly the rhinox started moving, as if he felt something was about to happen.
In that precise moment, a metal star flashed in the pit, ending his deadly spinning movement against the wooden door.
And that was the moment when Gretch showed himself to the crowd. He came out of nowhere, and was running fast around the rhinox.
Smalbin started wielding his flail turning the metal chain over his head, ready to begin.
Ikimik yelled, and the skaven, covered in black robes and a long black cape charged, jumped, aiming for the gnoblar, and hitting the greenskin so hard, he almost fell off the rhinox’s back.
Smalbin was still shocked by the hit he had just received, but, showing more courage than he did the night before, he swiftly turned around, and charged the skaven, who was still recovering his fighting position after the jump. The rhinox ran fast and one of his horns almost hit the rat, who managed to avoid also Smalbin’s flail, rolling like an helicopter, just above his head.
The Skaven made another jump, and made another blow to the gnoblar, but this time Smalbin was fast enough to evade the skaven’s blade.
Just like before, the rhinox bobbed his head upwards, this time hitting Gretch with his horns, wounding him in the chest. The skaven was projected upwards, right in reach of Smalbin’s flail, that hit the skaven in the face, throwing him against the wall of the pit, laying dead.

Batt.6

Gretch’s body wasn’t even brought out of the pit, when the Asur, standing around the arena started screaming and shouting. Those high blond creatures, always calm, always cool, almost ethereal, were now being noisier than three orcs, who, as a replay, started banging their choppas on each other’s armour to make even more chaos. The show ended with the orcs getting on a fight, once again, and the surrounding watchers were actually wondering if they ever saw a full match, from beginning to end, without bickering and arguing.
“Why are those elves yelling?” asked Leopold, who stood up, to have a better look. “Sathuron, the high elf prince, son of Finubar, the phoenix king”, replied Ikimik’s gnoblar, looking at the roster he had in his hands.
Hearing these words, Leopold almost chocked, and started coughing vigorously, as he became red in his face. “You said Sathuron... Sathuron himself! I must salute him then”. Duke Leopold, who was always appealed by power, couldn’t resist, and ran off, to salute the high elf.
The noble figure was on top of his white steed, barded in a splendid silver armour, so shiny Leopold almost tripped in the mud, blinded by its reflection.
The Elf looked at the human, but didn’t really care about him; actually he ran over Leopold, who fell, face down, in the ground, and Ikimik, looking at the scene, couldn’t resist from laughing loudly.
The Elf saluted Ikimik, who responded with a bob of the head (Ikimik never really liked the Asur). Two other elves were pulling the white steed from its reins, and brought Sathuron in the pit, than handed over his pointy helmet, and his knightly lance.
“He is ready”, said one of the helping elfs. Sathuron remained concentrated, looking toward the entrance of the pit. Gave a look at his two helpers, and these left immediately, leaving the prince, alone, in the pit.

Duke Leopold was still recovering from eating dust when, while cleaning his eyes, he got pushed by a ruthless figure, Leopold didn’t even see coming. Tletl Loqgor was too eager to fight for avoiding a man, who was obstructing his path. As the saurus walked among the crowd, everyone moved away. He was a lot different from Sathuron. The high elf was beautiful, with long, blond hair and shiny armour. Tletl was ugly, brute, and repulsive. As he marched, people just walked away from him; a reaction that was actually justified, as in the Empire reign, it was quite uncommon to see a two meter lizard, walking around.
His scaly skin was ruined, with big scars and old cuts, meaning he was a revered and veteran fighter.
He was the only lizard around, and no one, from the crowd cheered for him. Lustria was quite far away, and people started wondering how he travelled, to get there.
Tletl walked calmly through the corridor, leading to the pit, and, as he entered the arena, saw the elf, waiting for him.
The lizard made a snore, than, dropped the scimitar, and started a ritual dance. Everybody stopped what they were doing, to see the dancing lizard; yet, it was a very menacing dance, pounding with his paws in the ground, making snores on every movement, looking more and more fierce full each step. Finally, Tltetl stopped, and shouted out loud, scaring all the birds from the trees near by. Leopold fell back from his seat, ending, for the third time, in less than ten minutes, with his face in the mud.
Just as the saurus grabbed his scimitar, Ikimik yelled, and the sixth battle began.

The elf’s steed moved swiftly across the pit, charging the lizard, who was ready to receive him. Sathuron’s lance hit Tlotl’s right shoulder, leaving a big dent on the saurus’ armour plate. The lizard gave a sign of his great fighting experience, making a fast movement, not caring for the hit he had just received, and hitting the elf with his scimitar, though it seemed like the elf didn’t even feel the enemy’s blade, and continued fighting.
Sathuron dropped his lance, and stroke his blade heavily on the saurus whose thick skin deviated the blows. Tltetl responded, hitting the elf in the upper leg, just between the plates of the armour, making a cut in his white robes, that slowly soaked with the elf’s blood.
The fight between these two fighters was amazing, and none of them seemed to want to concede.
Sathuron hit and Tletl blocked; than Tletl stroke again, but hit the elf’s armour. They kept going, without pause for over an hour.
At every blow, the crowd went “Aaaahhh!” and “Ooohh!”; even the three orcs stopped fighting to see what was happening. One of the ogres grabbed a gnoblar, who was carelessly walking near by, and threw it in the pit, just for the good fun of it. Everybody laughed at the site of the little green bugger running around, screaming and calling for help.
“Yaaaawn!!! This is getting boring”, said Duke Leopold, stretching; “Come on; you stinking lizard... die, for Sigmar’s sake”; he yelled, but Tletl was too concentrated to hear what the human had just said. The fighters kept on going for another ten minutes or so, splashing blood once in a while; though it was hard to guess whose blood it was.
Suddenly Sathuron went to a halt and Tletl fell on the ground beneath the steed’s feet.
“He won!!!” screamed Leopold, standing up joyfully, with his arms sticking up. But his face changed, when saw Tletl getting up on his legs, and Sathuron slowly bending forward, dropping his sword on the ground, with his blood leaking over the steed’s white neck.
Tletl looked at his enemy, and snored at him, pronouncing something at the elf’s pointy ears.
Then left, without further ado.
The other elfs rushed inside the pit, taking the corpse of their prince down the horse, and out of the Arena.
Ikimik stood up, and applauded. Duke Leopold remained seated, and refused to cheer Tletl, the winner.

Battle.7

Tletl exited the Arena, in a slow pace, looking around, showing his cold blood to all the watchers, who were in some way intimidated by him. As Tletl finished walking through the corridor, he had to come to a stop. There stood, right in front of him, Athaldin, a high elf prince, who was a good friend of Sathuron, known for his confidence and belief of being immortal. The two looked at each other in the eyes.
“I will meet you, sooner or later, and I will have revenge on Sathuron”.
The coldblooded creature didn’t say a word; yet it stepped away, carelessly.
“I will fight you right now”, yelled the elf, “I will make a new quiver for my arrows, out of you! You hear?!”.
The other high elfs went beside Athaldin, with tears pouring from their small eyes. They took care of the prince just as they did with Sathuron, and led him in the pit.
Athalidin took his sword out of the scabbard, and pointed it to the crowd with his straight arm; turning around, so he could meet everybody’s eyes: “I will take each and every one of you, if I have to. No one would ever reach my power!”.
While the crowd usually enjoyed such manifestations of self esteem and confidence, didn’t appreciate that it was the watchers to be pointed at, and Athaldin received roaring “Boo-s!”. As a reply, the elf repeated that he would have taken anyone, in that moment, to prove his and the high elf’s power.
One of the three orcs raised his hand, and, while crouching to enter the pit said: “I will fight now, if you want!”, but he was pushed back by his buddies, that gave him a punch in the head, and re-began to fight.

“I  will take you, you fool. You will meet my sword! You will meet my horns! You will meet my Gods! Prepare to die, little elf!”. The observers turned their heads, and saw Grizzakk, a big Chaos Doombull, walking forcefully toward the Arena. His voice was deep, soar, and fumes were coming out of his nostrils. “Two elfs are down. One to go”.

Duke Leopold was still recovering from Sathuron’s departure, sitting dully on his stool-like chair, but as soon as he saw who the next contenders were, he raised up, and started cheering for the high elf. This time, though, didn’t want to go salute him, as he didn’t want to finish head-down, once more, that day.
Duke Leopold knew Grizzakk quite well, as he met him during the Storm of Chaos campaign. Grizzakk and his beast army made pieces of Leopold’s battalion, having ambushed it in the deeps of the forest. After the whole battalion was dead, Grizzakk personally chased Leopold out of the forest, who left, to inform Valten of the Chaos arrival. Duke Leopold wanted revenge, upon this loss, and counted on the high elf for this.
Ikimik also Knew Grizzakk well enough to know he was an awsome fighter. The Greatheads were hired by the Leopold to protect the region against the chaos invasion, that times, but Ikimik felt that chaos was sometimes better than empire, and made a pact with Grizzakk, asking for Leopold’s head, in exchange, the Greatheads granted the chaos army a clear passage to the walls of the city.

Athaldin stopped turning around when his blade pointed at Grizzakk. The two exchanged words of “appreciation”: “I love elf meet!”, said the Taurus, with a flame on his eyes; “Too bad you won’t get any, today”, said firmly, the elf; and the orcs started laughing. One of them laughed so much, he almost choked, while the others were pounding him in the back, to help him swallow.

Ikimik waited a few minutes, than he yelled, and the battle began.
Athaldin was the first to make his move, and charged the doombull, still pointing the sword toward his enemy and slashing it on Grizzakk’s head, making a big laceration in the thick beast’s skin, and cutting away one of his horns; blood was pouring out, and Grizzakk almost fell to the ground, but was strong enough to absorb the hit, and respond. His sword was blown with violence against the elf, but the armour absorbed the hits.
Athaldin turned 180 degrees, pulling the steed’s reins with vigour. Once more, the Elf straightened his arm, pointing at the bull, than he looked around, to see if the crowd was looking at him (and it was), than charged again. Grizzakk, who was doddering for the hit he received before, prepared for the elf, banging his sword on his shield: “Come on, elf, are you ready to die?!”. Athalidin’s steed was running so fast, people could only see a white cloud, speeding in the pit. Grizzakk remained still waiting for the enemy to come.
As the Asur engaged the bull, slashed his sword downwards, cutting away Grizzakk’s other horn. The bull screamed, in pain, but had the strength to strike again with his sword, hitting the steed’s barding. Once more, as if he was jousting, the elf turned around with his steed; looked at the suffering bull and said “This time, I will aim just a bit lower”, than he charged, and slashed the blade to meet the bull’s neck, dividing its head from the body.

“Well done!”, said Duke Leopold, standing up cheerfully. “See what happens messing with me?”, he continued, pointing his finger at the corps of the doombull. Yet, nobody seemed to have cared about Leopold, now, as Athaldin, who was exiting the pit, met Tletl, and told him: “Prepare yourself. Like I said, sooner or later, we will meet, and, upon the Asur, I will have revenge”.

Battle.8

Just before the beginning of the eighth battle, the head-gnoblar, who was still dizzy for having been stepped on by Gharz, two days before, went to call the next contestants, the ogre Tyrant Grog and the black orc Lord Ghskull, who were the only ones left in the fighters’ tent. The gnoblar was about to reach the tent when he noticed something flying its way. He didn’t even realize what it was, when it crashed against him, and made him sink in the mud.
The unidentified flying object was non other than Ghskull himself, who had been previously raised and than thrown by his ogre opponent, Grog. The orc stood up, not noticing the gnoblar under him, and charged Grog, with his choppa held with both hands.
With the last stroke of breath left in his small lungs, the gnoblar raised his thin arm, from under the dirt (the arm was the only visible part of the gnoblar’s body) and said “Y-you are up next... I’ve gotta find meeself another job”, then let his arm fall, unconscious.
The two fighers, though, continued hitting each other, not caring where they were going or what they were hitting, smashing anything they were encountering. Grog fell, and hit a table, projecting all the food that was on it, over the near by crowd, and a pot full of leftovers accidentally landed over the three orcs who ended covered in sauce and gravy. One of them pushed the other that was laughing, but hit another ogre, who was just near them. The ogre punched one of the orcs, and all three jumped on the ogre, who was supported by another ogre, that pushed the orcs away. One of the orcs fell in a puddle of mud, and splashed an elf, who didn’t even realize what was happening. His white dress was fully covered in black muck, so raised his sword, to hit the orc just under him, but the blade hit another ogre that pushed the elf, who ended in the puddle of dirt, near the orc. One of the other orcs was pushed near the royal seats, where Ikimik and Duke Leopold were sitting; and Leopold hit dully the orc on the head with a pointy stick, to push him away.
“Enough!” Rorared a deep voice. It was Ikimik, who raised over the angry mob. He was the only one that wasn’t fighting, along with Grog and Ghskull, who were laughing, checking out what they had caused.
Everybody stopped fighting, and a bunch of gnoblars, who were hiding behind Ikimik’s seat, moved among the crowd, opened the gateway to the pit, and conducted the next gladiators in the arena.
While walking, Ghskull pulled a flask out of pocket, and drank a sip of its content. As soon as he finished drinking, he didn’t even wait for Ikimik’s signal, and charged the ogre, who, for some reason, was expecting the orc’s attacks, and managed to avoid all but one attack.
Grog responded, and raised his huge weapon, but it slipped off his hands, that were still greasy from the earlier squabble, and the orc took advantage, and attacked the enemy once more, but hit the ogre’s armour.
Grog, once more, raised his weapon over his head, and stroke it, but the orc was fast enough to avoid the big hammer. The Orc slashed his choppa, but Grog’s gnoblars jumped on the Ghskull head, covering his eyes. It was Grog’s time to take advantage of the orc’s distraction, and he smashed the orc with a blow. The orc fell on the ground, apparently unconscious. Grog raised his hands, in sign of vicotory, but Ghskull stood up again, and attacked the ogre while he wasn’t watching, and wounded him once more.
Astonished by the orc’s resilience to die, Grog, who’s was bleeding from the wound he had just received, hit Ghskull once more, who literally flew against the wall, heads down, dead.


That night, over the campfire, Ikimik called out the name of the fighters, who were alive, until then, and, every time he called out a name, the crowd yelled and cheered the fighter.
1.The blac orc, Urgok (when Ikimik cried out his name, the three orcs started jumping around... then began fighting again)
2.The chaos champion, Gharknar;
3.The ogre, Gharz;
4.The ogre, Gilamesh;
5.The gnoblar, Sgt.Smalbin (when Ikimik yelled Smalbin’s name, all the gnoblars yelled ever more, as they would have never thought a gnoblar could have arrived in the second turn);
6.The saurus, Tletl;
7.The elf, Athaldin;
8.The ogre, Grog.

“Three ogres out of eight fighters... I am very pleased of you”, said Ikimik, afterwards, then he continued: “My best butchers, Tsuaf, Dualc and Nohj, have been working days and nights, and have prepared a recipe just for you. You don’t have to drink it, but if you do, you will please me very much.”.
The three butchers were standing near Ikimik, with a big pot, filled with a disgusting liquid. As Nojh was steering a  big spoon in it, you could hear something hard, hitting the pot from the inside, as if rocks were part of the ingredients. Nojh, than, raised the big spoon, and took out a gnoblar, that accidentally fell inside.
“If you drink this, you might be lucky, and you might have benefits; but if you get unlycky, you might choke. It is up to you. You have two full days to decide”.



Remember: it is not something you have to do; but if you do, Ikimik will be very pleased.

2nd round: Battle 1

It was early in morning, and there was a subtle mist that covered the camp. A still sleepy gnoblar went to wake up the next contestants: Urgok and Gharknar. Urgok the black orc was sleeping in his tent and, most probably dreaming to fight someone, as he was throwing punches in thin air, mumbling something barely understandable.
The gnoblar went to wake him up, but as soon as he got near the black orc, he received a punch right in the nose, making the gnoblar fall to ground with his nose pointing downwards and a little to a side. Though, the gnoblar wasn’t disappointed at all; in fact he was quite happy, as he thought that now he had the coolest and more original nose among his fellow gnoblars, and that he could aspire being Ikimik’s favourite gnoblar, now.
The gnoblar was so happy, he forgot to do the assignment he was told to, and left the tent, with Urgok still deeply asleep. As the gnoblar left the tent, the three orcs slipped inside it, and went near Urgok’s bed, and, with an unusual synchronism for three orcs, they raised the black orc up, over their heads, yelling, repeatedly: “Time for anozer battle”. Urgok, just before being brought out of his tent, managed to grab his axe and his armour. The three orcs were jumping and yelling, with the black orc held high above them. As they passed through the crowd, they changed phrase, yelling “Passing zru, passing zru; za champion is passing zru”.
They put him down right in front of a big cauldron, settled at the beginning of the corridor, leading down in the pit. On the other side of the cauldron, stood one of the fattest ogres ever seen: Tsuaf Peedrinker, one of Ikimik’s best chefs. Tsuaf handed over a big spoon containing some sort of greenish liquid. Hair was floating, and some pointy rocks were sticking out of the fluid. After seeing a puzzled expression on the orc’s face, Tsuaf said “Good stuff... you drink”, but he was looking more ironical than actually believing what he was saying. The orc closed his eyes, and drank from the spoon, and nothing happened.

Right behind Urgok stood a warrior with shiny red armour, who was holding the reins of his horse. The orc stepped away, as the warrior stepped forward, near the cauldtron. Tsuaf repeated: “Good stuff... you drink”, and the Gharknar drank, and, even to him, nothing happened.
Gharknar sat on the horse’s saddle, and directed the steed down the path, toward the pit. Urgok was still trying to wear his armour, but the three orcs got a hold of him once more, and led him down the corridor yelling “letz begin... you’ll see, you chaos zingy who’s za best in da pit”.

As both contestants entered the arena, they both fell in the heavily in the ground, holding their bellies, as if they had a big stomach ache; than, after a couple of seconds, they stood up again. They looked as if nothing just happened; Gharkanr went, again, sitting on his horse, but this time, as he moved, he could feel the armour he was in, seemed a bit smaller... or was he bigger? The chaos steed could feel his knight’s weight more than before.
On the other side of the arena, Urgok was looking at his bigger chest muscles... And slashed his axe, to feel the changes.
Apparently Tsuaf’s recipe didn’t kill them, but made them stronger and more confident.

Urgok was still showing his fellow greenskins his enlarged arm muscles, when Ikimik yelled, and Gharknar charged straight against the orc, hitting him very badly, the orc almost flew against the wall of the pit.
With his face almost entirely covered in blood, the orc managed to raise and strike a blow at the chaos knight. Gharknar’s horse was still running, when the knight’s body fell to the ground, headless.
Urgok was severely wounded, just like his first battle against Gyrathor, but this time there were the three orcs who entered the pit and, once more, got hold of him, and raised him up, pointing at the chaos champions’ dead body, yelled “We toldya, who da winner was”. Then, they brought the orc out of the pit, leaving a long streak of blood, leaking from Urgok’s chest.


2nd Round: Battle 2:

As soon as Gharkanr’s body was brought out of the pit, and the chaos steed was let free to run in the woods, as a Greathead’s tradition (to free the steeds of the men killed in battle)  Ikimik declared the second battle was about to start.
Gharz, as the crowd got to know, was a very rude, very aggressive, belligerent ogre. He walked over the butcher’s cauldron, and saw Gilamesh was there before him, already to the point where he was sipping from Tsuaf’s spoon.
Gharz was still a few meters away, when he accelerated his step, and as he reached the opponent, who had the spoon in his mouth, hit him with his belly-plate, and made him fall. Gilamesh, who’s figures tattooed on him moved as run over by a train, stood up, with a forceful look in his face. He pumped his chest muscles, along with the back muscles, and his skin stretched. There was a tattoo that shown Gilamesh charging a greater demon of Khorne, but the overstretched skin, extended by the over-enlarged muscles, made the Khorne demon look like a winged goat, and the ogre look like an organic steam tank.
As if nothing happened, Gharz asked for the butcher’s soup that, this time, was of a purple-ish colour, with eyeballs and fingernails floating.
Gharz had a sip from Tsuaf’s spoon, and he too felt stronger and more self-assured.

Gilamesh, though, didn’t just stand there, and flexed his muscles repeatedly, and the tattoo, in which an ogre was crushing a rock wall, moved several times, showing the ogre wrecking the wall again, and again, and again. Than he charged his opponent.

The gnoblars, who remembered what happened when Gharz and Bernog fought before, and didn’t get involved and didn’t try to separate the two ogres, not wishing to be crushed.
Gilamesh, who was about to slash the opponent, with his longsword ready to strike, had to come to a sudden stop, since his necklace flashed, blinding him for a slight second, giving Gharz the time to attack first.
Gharz, who had a similar sword Gilamesh had, whacked the opponent in the armour plate, going trough it, making a big hole in the metal. Gilamesh, who seemed like not even feeling the pain, responded, but the other was fast enough to avoid the blade. With a jump Gharz moved swiftly to the side of the other ogre, and slashed the blade another time, cutting the ogre skin right where the tattooed rhinox was.
Gilamesh was bleeding copiously, but succeeded in hitting Gharz, with his sword so fast, no one in the crowd could see his movement. All that was seen was a big cloud of blood. Gharz was almost down to the ground, when his necklace flashed, giving him the strength to continue. Though, he was seriously injured, and the pain was so vigorous, he missed hitting the opponent.
Gilamesh took advantage of the enemy’s difficulties, and stoke his sword, wounding Gharz one last fatal time.
Gharz’s body fell to the ground, life-less.

2nd turn: Battle 3.

Ikimik ordered his gnoblars to go call the next gladiators, as they were up next. While the little greenskins were eager to go and call the lizardman Tletl, they were literally fighting for who was the one that should have gone and call Sgt.Smalbin.
The gladiator gnoblar had become, among his fellow greenskins, a hero, having killed the skaven assassin. The bunch of gnoblars were talking heatedly, and some punches flew on someone’s face “Me go...”; “No, me go...”; “Me...”; “No, me...”... and, as one of them moved forward, the others got a hold of him, and walked over him... and so on, and so forth.
The gnoblars, while fighting, were moving forward, rather slow, but still moving, when they stumbled on someone’s feet.
They looked upward, and saw Tletl’s intimidating face, who snored at the gnoblars, making their hats fly off their heads.
“Tell him to get ready...”, said one gnoblar to another, with a shaking voice, giving a slight push to another gnoblar’s back; the gnoblar then slipped back, and said “You do it”, and pushed another gnoblar from behind; “No, you go...”, “No, you do...”; “No, you...”; “You...”, and so on and so forth.
They were still fighting, when Tletl, who didn’t actually care about the greenskins fight, stepped forward, without saying a single word, and moved toward to cauldron. As he approached Tsuaf, the butcher said “Drink... good stuff”; but Tletl snored on the spoon, blowing the liquid away from it. “You don’t like?”, said Tsuaf with a grinning smile... “Ok, you don’t drink”. Then turned toward Ikimik and yelled that Tletl didn’t like a sip of his speciality.
Ikimik said nothing, but the crowd booed and whistled, in sign of disappointment.
Tletl was heading down the pit, when a squeaking scream was heard from the stables. It was Sgt.Smalbin, who’s rhionox was accidentally brought out of the stables, without his eye-patches, and was running in circles, with the gnoblar on top of him, firmly strapped.
Some gnoblars, in charge of taking care of the beast got smashed to the ground. The others were fighting and punching, and kicking, and yelling, saying “Your fault”; “No, your fault”; “You did it”; “No you”; “Not me, you did”; and so on and so forth.
The three orcs were betting on the little gnoblar, dressed with a blue and white shirt.
The rhinox, as stuck by lighting stopped running in circles, and ran toward the crowd, who opened like a curtain, to avoid the beast’s horns. The rhinox was running wildly and uncontrolled, when e received a smack on the head from an ogre, and the beast fell to ground, slightly dizzy; but finally stopped.
The gnoblars stopped fighting, and, taking advantage of the dizzy rhinox, ran upon him, strapped the eye-patches, and brought Sgt.Smalbin near the cauldron for a sip of the butcher’s drink.
The gnoblar’s mouth was half the size of Tsuaf’s spoon, but the butcher stuck the spoon in the Smalbin’s mouth carelessly.
The gnoblar had some trouble swallowing the rocks Tsuaf put in his mouth, and, at first, it seemed like he was choking. The little gnoblars under him climbed up the rhinox, to help him swallow, but after a couple o seconds, Smalbin felt much stronger and better.
The rhinox was brought down the pit, his patches removed, and Ikimik yelled to begin the battle.
The rhinox charged, and Smalbin was hit the saurus with his flail, but the scaly skin absorbed the hit, giving Tletl time to respond, and wounding the gnoblar in the face. The rhinox, then, bobbed his nose, trying to hit the lizard with his horns, but missing him.
The gnoblar, than, raised his flail, and hit the saurus in the face; Tletl snored again, and put a hand on the breach on his forehead, and looked at the blood pouring from it. Then, smiled, or what looked like a twisted smile, and charged the gnoblar, wielding his scimitar high over his head. The lizard’s movements were fast, and there was very little the gnoblar could do to avoid being hit.
When Tletl ended his furious attack, the gnoblar was dangling to the side of the rhionx, strapped to the beast.
Tletl didn’t even look back, and walked out of the pit.


2nd Turn: battle 4

No battle was fought in the past three days, as a tremendous rainstorm collapsed on the old world. Rivers and lakes flooded the surrounding towns, and Ikimik’s camp was under a meter (3 feet) of water.
The pit was full of water, and it was more suited for a battleship game, more than a gladiator fight. A thunder was heard, one night, and lightning struck in the middle of the camp, where a bunch of gnoblars were playin’, throwing mud balls at eachother, and running in piggybacks.
Athaldin, the high elf noble, though, didn’t even feel a single drop of water, as his three accompanying elfs stood beside him all along, holding some sort of canopy over him. The noble steed was cured, brushed and shined everyday, even the horse’s stable was fixed and set up in a condition, suited for a noble steed.
The armour, both of the high elf, and his horse, was as shiny as a mirror, and, combined with the pale look of the elf’s skin, and the white mantle of the horse made the figure look as if it was ethereal.
In a whole different manner, looked the ogre Tyrant, Grog, who wandered carelessly within the camp. His head was always in a low position, having a grumpy face, as if he was looking for a good fight to take to. One day , while it was pouring a bucket full of rain, he saw the gnoblars hitting eachother fighting because on of them threw a rock, instead of the usual mud balls, and the ogre jumped in the squabble, kicking, punching and headbashing each and every gnoblar. Total number of gnoblars slain or unconscious: nineteen; total number of ogres fighting: one.
As the fifth subsequent day of rain arrived, Ikimik declared the fourth fight had to be seen, as he couldn’t stand seeing Leopold, his henchmen, and all those orcs, elfs, and other ogres, walking around his camp, without being able to kill any of them... now he was getting bored, and regretted the treaty he had signed.
He declared that rain or no rain, the fourth battle had to be done, and sent the gnoblar to call up the next two contestants.
As Athaldin walked over Tsuaf cauldron, placed under a big tent, to prevent the marvellous soup to soak up in water, it seemed like the elf could move from a drop to another, avoiding the rain, so to not get wet.
He approached the cauldron, and had a sip of the liquid, that was of a purple-ish colour, with small tentacles, still moving, in it. The Elf, who wasn’t used to drink such aberration, swallowed, and then his face turned green, than purple, than blue, than red. He was on the merge to choke, and he wold have fallen off his horse, if the other elfs didn’t get a hold of him. As he got a hold of himself, and stood straight on the horseback, he felt a sticking pain on his chest. He opened his tunic, and saw a big bruise, as if he had taken a big hit from a club.
The elf was still looking at his chest, when the horse received a push from aside. It was Grog, who wanted a sip of the juicy soup too.
“Me know you likes”, said Tsuaf, with the usual twisted expression on his face.
Grog swallowed, and felt much better.
The gnoblars led the way in an open space, in the middle of the camp as the pit was flooded.
The crowd gathered around the fighters, creating a circle.
Ikimik yelled, and Athaldin, on his beautiful steed charged the ogre, who was waiting for the enemy, and managed to avoid the elf, but not his horse, and received a hit from the animal’s hoof. The ogre attacked back, and hit violently the elf in the back, with his huge hammer, making the elf tremble vigorously.
The elf turned around, and pointed his sword toward the ogre, and the slashed blade against him, hitting him in the face. But the ogre didn’t just stand there, and struck his hammer once more, but hit the steed’s barding. The Elf, once more, pointed his sword toward the ogre’s face, and attacked, but Grog, who knew the elf’s tactic, avoided the attacks.
Grog raised his hammer over his head, while Athaldin was turning to face his enemy, and smashed it on the elf, hitting him in the head, crushing his skull, leaving nothing of him.
Grog walked out of the circle, pushing the people, to make space, and got back to his tent.
The three orcs stood there, with their eyes wide open, looking at what was left of the elf; yet, when the other people weren’t looking, approached the Athaldin’s corps and looted some objects that fell off of the elf’s armour and tunic. They almost made it, but the accompanying elfs arrived there in time, and the three elfs engaged the three orcs in a tremendous fight, broke off  by Ikimik’s ogres, who knew the importance of having the leader’s dead body back.


Phase two of the competition has ended, and the four remaining contestants are:
1.The blac orc, Urgok;
2.The ogre, Gilamesh;
3.The saurus, Tletl;
4.The ogre, Grog.

Ikimik is very happy to see two ogres out of four gladiators, proving ogres are the strongest race among all, in the old world.
To award each one of these fine warriors, Ikimik has decided to let them decide a new equipment, if they wish to, letting them used all the items they want. They came this far, they deserve a prize.

Semifinals, battle 1 and 2

After the last battle of the second turn was fought, the four remaining contestants were brought in front of the crowd to be cheered.
There were no elfs in the crow, who left Ikimik’s camp after Athaldin’s death, with sorrow and need for revenge.
Ikimik’s ogres were jumping around, hitting and smashing everything they encountered, to applaud Gilamesh and Grog. But, above all this noise, were the three orcs, who were using pans and old plates of armour to make even more bangs and noises, yelling “Urgok is da best!!! Go Urgok”.
After the presentation of the four finalists ended, Tletl left the camp as he usually did, after every battle, to go and rest some place only he knew; and wasn’t seen anymore, ‘till the beginning of his next fight.

In the following days, the camp was very quiet, the rain stopped from pouring, but Ikimik decided to wait a couple of days, before the next fight could take place, so to give time to the four gladiators to choose their equipment.

After some time, when Grog and Gilamesh were nervously wondering within the camp, bashing every little gnoblar they met. A night, though, a gnoblar went in Ikimik’s tent, and told Ikimik that he overheard some strange things happening, in the ogres’ tent. He said the a gnoblar friend of his was told by another gnoblar, that another gnoblar probably said that his gnoblar cousin told his brother in law that... “What are talking about!?!?!”, said Ikimik in a thundering voice.
The gnoblar was shaking, and with a vibrating voice said, in one blow:  “I overheard that Gilamesh is trying something fishy, and that he and Gilamesh made a deal that together they will kill Urgok in the next battle. They asked my cousin’s brother in law’s friend to distract you with a silly question, and than they smash the orc right in the head, without you seeing”.
Ikimik, who barely understood the gnoblar’s words, gave a puzzled look, than laughed, but didn’t give much credit to the his slave greenskin.

The next day, Ikimik said it was time for the next battle, and sent his gnoblars to call Gilamesh and Urgok. Gilamesh was in his tent, with a gnoblar drawing a new tatoo on his back, showing a still to be finished ogre, who was smashing an orc in the head.
As Gilamesh was called up, he went in Ikimik’s armoury, and, upon Ikimik’s consent, picked up a sort of battering ram, with Ikimik’s face carved on one end of the ram.
Urgok, on the other hand, the day before sent out one of the three orcs, who just before the beginning of the battle came back with a new shield and a bottle of some liquid.

As the two fighters reached the pit, that was now dry after being flooded from the rain, Urgok drank the mysterious fluid, and when he finished, he made a sudden halt; his eyes turned upward, showing only the white of the eyes. His shoulders went downward, and goo was coming out of his mouth. Than, he walked, bobbin left and right, in a silly way. The three orcs were very worried, than one pushed the other, saying “if is all your fault... wat did you bring... you silly stupid orc”, and started yet another fight.
Gilamesh took advantage of this situation, and didn’t even wait for the orc to fully enter the pit, when he ran over the orc, with his huge battering ram: the last thing Urgok could see was Ikimik’s big fat face coming at him. The orc received a hit in the face, which woke him up from his dumbness. The orc, who, all of a sudden, re-became frenzied again, attacked the ogre a numerous amount of times, and when he finished, the ogre was left with bruises and cuts all over. But Gilamesh attacked back, and ran toward Urgok wielding Ikimik’s siegebreaker under his arm, and hit the greenskin on the chest, pushing him against the mud wall.
As Gilamesh went away from the orc’s body, Urgok was almost fully stuck inside the mud, and only the hands and feet were left out. The orc stood there, motionless until the three orcs went inside the pit to take him out of the hole. The orc was barely recognizable, and the three orcs carried him out of the arena; then, when they were among the crowd, one told the other that it was his fault; but the other pushed the other ogre, saying that it wasn’t, and they started fighting again; but than stopped, and gave a grave look at Gilamesh, as he was walking near them.
Gilamesh returned to his tent, where a gnoblar was waiting for him, to finish the tatoo on his back.

“Well, that was fast”, said Leopold, scrubbing his hands in sign of amusement. Ikimik looked at him, and yelled it was time for another fight.
The gnoblar called out Tletl’s and Grog’s name.
Grog reached the pit, literally walking over everyone, who was unlucky enough to stand in front of him.
On the other hand, Tletl couldn’t be seen anywhere. Ikimik sent a whole bunch of his gnoblars to go looking for him. “I guess we have to wait”, siad Leopold, in a bored manner.
After several hours, Tletl came back to the camp, out of the blue. As one of the gnoblars saw him, he reached him and called out “I found him, I found him, I win; I win”... pointing him with his tiny pointy finger, jumping all around him.
Tletl didn’t even look at the greenskin, and kept on walking, not loosing eye-sight from Grog’s face.
Tletl had a new sort of amulet hanging from his neck; Grog, just like Gilamesh, had just picked up a hammer, from Ikimk’s armoury.
The two entered the pit, and as soon as Ikimik yelled, Tletl moved very fast, and began to hit the ogre, who was cut on his chest, and blood was pouring out. But, as if the ogre didn’t feel the pain, he raised his huge hammer, but as he smashed it down, the lizard was already out of the way, ready for another blow at the enemy. Tletl hit the ogre again, and again, but Grog didn’t fall from, and stuck his hammer, once more;, and violently hit the lizarard. Tletl’s necklace flashed once, but Grog’s hammer hit so hard, the lizard felt a screaming pain on his neck. The saurus managed to hit back, and with a very unnatural movement, got away from the ogre’s range, and slashed his blade,  wounding the ogre,  with a lucky blow, right in the face.
Grog stood still for a moment. The saurus was not moving either. The crowd was silent, even the orcs, as all could see that both fighters were exhausted and heavily wounded.
Tletl was about to stike again, when Grog fell on the ground, severely wounded, yet still alive. The lizard looked his enemy in the face, than left the pit, leaving the ogre alive.

Leopold yelled “Kill him; kill him!!!!”, but Ikimik called out his gnoblars, and sent them to go pick up Grog. Then, Ikimik gave a punch at Leopold’s face, making him fall backwards, from the stool.

Tletl left the pit and the camp, to go somewhere no one knew; therefore Ikimik sent a gnoblar to follow him, and see where he was staying.

THE FINAL

The gnoblar sent by Ikimik to follow the lizard returned, having lost track of Tletl. “I’m so, so, so sorry; your highness. The lizard was just too fast, for me”. Hearing these words, Ikimik smacked the gnoblar in the face “and you call youself a trapper... you’re going back to be a normal fodder gnoblar”.

“No, please... my master... not fodder... I don’t want to die.. please...”; but Ikimik decided already, and he wasn’t going to change his mind.

The night went along in serenity and ease.

Tletl was no where to be found; Gilamesh was being tattooed once more, in the only square of bare skin he had. The little gnoblar painter was starting to draw a lizard who was laying on the ground, slain.

Leop