Torgal sits in his cushioned chair with his feet up on a finely crafted footstool. A young female cleric sits close at his side inspecting his new wound. The deep gash is currently exposed as she administers some ointments and bandages. "Are you sure you don't want me to cast some spells and heal that up sire? It won't leave any scars and it would be much quicker." The young nurse pleads. "I hate to see you in such pain."

"Don't fret young one. I want to keep this scar, it'll remind me to be careful around Ghrimm. Not to mention it makes a great story for the young ladies." Torgal flashes her a sly grin before he continues, "Are you almost done? Its just about time to see that pleasant dwarf humiliated. Would you care to stay and watch? I might get faint and need some quick clerical attention." Another smile is flashed her way as she finishes applying the bandages.
"I can't stand to see such violence. Its bad enough having to see the results, I don't need to see its cause. But I would hate for you to be in any pain… so I think I will stay and make sure your comfortable." The young cleric flashes a very suggestive smile before she settles back in her chair.

"Excuse me for one second then my dear," Torgal rises and makes his way to the balcony and peers out over the crowd. The people are abuzz with rumors of what happened last night in the inn upstairs. No one quite knows the story but people are happy to make up there own versions. Torgal's rotates his shoulder a little and winches at the pain. The thoughts of last night's fun still fresh in his mind. "Ladies and Gentlemen. I suppose many of you have heard rumors that I was attacked last night in the inn by one of my very own fighter's. I assure you that this rumor is in fact true. But it is also not as bad as you may think. At first I thought that I would remove this loose ballista from the arena, but after careful thought and several laughs I realized that I actually enjoyed his temper and attitude. So instead I have decided to let him continue fighting. But I have placed a 500gp fine on his head. So hopefully that will help pay for all the damage he has done and probably will do. I don't believe for a moment that this fighter will stop doing it, I just hope he doesn't do it so often. And now let me introduce this wild animal." Torgal extends his good arm towards the eastern gate, and the gatekeepers immediately open the doors. "I present to you Ghrimm StonesEdge."

There is a mixture of boos and cheers for this fallen warrior, which soon turn to laughter. Ghrimm is lead into the arena by a contingent of Torgal's finest security officers, lead by their gnome leader, Melanos. Ghrimm is shackled around the legs and his arms are tightly tied behind his back. His mouth is gagged preventing him from singing and his bloodshot eyes are practically out of his skull from his anger. Melanos roughly shoves him to the ground as security holds him down. "I'm going to release you know, you sack of goblin feces. Don't waste your energy on me cause I'll tear you a new asshole. Save it for your opponent." Ghrimm struggles some more but Melanos only drops a knee into the small of his back pressing him even harder against the ground. "Your lucky the master likes you or you would be feeding the crows right now. Count your blessings and starting showing some respect to Torgal if no one else. Now stay still as I remove these." Ghrimm refuses to stay still as Melanos removes the leg shackles. Melanos yells up to Torgal, eliciting some laughter from the crowd, "You're sure you don't want me to keep his arms tied, it be an interesting match?" Torgal shakes his head from his seat high above and Melanos roughly cuts the bonds being none to gentle. With the security force still holding him down Melanos stands and draws his blade, "OK boys, release the hound." The security force quickly stands and moves away from the uncontrollable dwarf. The team quickly moves backwards from the thrashing dwarf and through the gate. Ghrimm rips the gag from his mouth and begins spitting in Melanos's direction. "Sorry about the taste Ghrimm, but I didn't have any paper handy when I was on the jake." With that said, Melanos closes the door, seconds before Ghrimm collides with it.

"Oh I feel sorry for his opponent. I think I will have to compensate him for this match." Torgal turns from the young cleric and once again addresses the crowd. "As you have seen, Ghrimm is not to happy with his treatment, wait till he gets the bill." The crowd laughs politely at Torgal's bad joke. "Anyway enough poor humor. His unfortunate opponent in this match is the vicious dwarf known as Morak. Lets hope and pray that Morak is up to this challenge." Torgal looks down at Ghrimm, who is still trying to get back through the gate, even if he has to break through it with his head, and he is trying.

The western gate begins to open and at its sound Ghrimm's head whips around and a look of insane rage passes across his face. Targeting his new opponent, Ghrimm grabs his two-handed battle-axe from the ground and begins to sing a lively dwarven song of death and battle. Morak walks into the ring with his battle-axe already drawn, and his shield on his left arm. Morak looks every part the killer in his black splint mail and his black eyes glittering in anticipation. There is no look of fear as he approaches Ghrimm. Ghrimm, tired of waiting for someone to kill breaks out into an all out charge as he sends his hungover, enraged body sailing across the ring. The two meet with battleaxes swinging. The sound as the two blades connect deafens those close to the fight. The ring of steel reverberates around the chamber even as they continue to fight. Morak comes in with a low swing. Ghrimm leaps over the crescent blade all the while bringing his own blade down on Morak. The duergar easily brings his shield up and redirects the blow into the dirt. The sudden change in direction sends Ghrimm off balance and Morak capitalizes with a clean blow to Ghrimm's midsection. "If you think that hurt worm, you better start running." Ghrimm shouts as blood spurts from the wound. The blow sends the already off balance Ghrimm down into the dirt. Ghrimm scrambles backwards trying to get up as Morak brings yet another telling blow down on his body. "dos ye's likes the taste of me blade?" Morak asks as Ghrimm rises to his feet. Ghrimm answers with a wide sweeping arc that sends his crescent death inches from Morak's throat, removing some of his beard. Morak enraged at this attack sends his own axe into a flurry of movement. One strike denting Ghrimm's shoulder plate while a second attack cuts through the chain mail shirt and draws boiling blood. Ghrimm takes a quick look at the dent in his plate before he lunges for Morak's head. Two chopping blows land in the torso of the duergar and bring fountains of blood forth. "I will see ye dead fer that!" Morak bellows.

The humiliation, the attacks and the comments all finally work there magic on Ghrimm as any self-control he had is lost. His already bulging eyes almost completely leave their sockets as blood pours through his veins. Breathing hard, Ghrimm's face flushes as the veins bulge from his skin. His teeth begin to grind as spittle flies from his mouth and his body swells with rage. "You are… going to wish… your race never… existed… and you will… curse… the day you met me! I am going… to kill YOU!!!!!" Ghrimm lunges at Morak with a strength few have ever witnessed. With the sudden attack Morak quickly brings his blade around and sends the onrushing dwarf to the side, drawing even more blood and sending small bits of flesh into the air. Ghrimm spins around and whistles his blade at the duergar's body. Morak steps back and brings his blade down on Ghrimm again, severing flesh, muscle, tendon and bone as his blade bites deep and a fountain of blood erupts from the vicious shoulder wound. Ghrimm twists away from the blade tearing the axe from Morak's hand as he brings his own two-handed death descending on the unarmed Morak. The blade cuts through Morak and his armor like a blade through water. Morak's arm hits the dirt before Morak's body does, the axe embedded to his sternum. A pool of red blood pours from the wounded duergar as his labored breathing slows. Ghrimm tears the axe from his shoulder and casts it to the ground. The anger in his eyes subsiding as he slumps to the ground next to Morak. "It's just a loss Morak, you don't have to go to pieces about it." Ghrimm sneers at his bad joke and passes out in a pool of Morak's and his blood, his energy spent. Morak's eyes are already shut.

"Damn the Nine Hells, I'm going to have to start paying the clerics more if they have to keep healing wounds like that." Torgal looks up from the extremely bloody scene and casts his eyes on the young cleric. "How would you like to be my personal cleric? You only have to tend me and I will pay you and donate to your clergy." The shy cleric flashes a grin more feral than Torgal's. "I'll take that as a yes."