"Ah, it's been too long since I was last up here in this seat. So Melanos, how have our good friends been doing with Ghrimm?" Torgal pours a glass of dark ale and watches as the creamy head forms at the top.

"They have been doing real well ser. Ghrimm seems to have calmed down a bit and he seems to have thrown his spare time into a sort of training. There is also rumour that he has a pet. I'm not sure about that one though he doesn't exactly seem the type to care about anything but himself." Melanos adjusts his position in his cushion to get a more comfortable seat. He then glances around the place looking at all the new renovations that are beginning. "It seems that even this room is getting renovated, eh ser?"

"I am looking into redoing this whole place. I like it but I'm just not content. Soon this place will have a whole new look and feel. But that is neither here nor there. We must get this match underway. People have been waiting long enough and I am itching to see some carnage." Torgal rises from his seat and takes a quick look at the roster to make sure he announces the correct fighters. A few quick steps takes him out onto his balcony where he looks out over the assembled crowd. Many people wait anxiously while others fidget in anticipation. Torgal voice booms out over the mass of people. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Tonight after several days of waiting we have the first fight between Theutaxon Blood-Runner and Ashe Moontree. Being that this is their debut match I expect we are all in for a little surprise. So without further ado I present to you… violence!" Torgal raises his arms to ceiling and basks in the thunderous roar of the crowd.

The eastern gate begins to creep open as the two gatekeepers haul on the handles. From within the gaping darkness a lone figure strides into the arena. The crowd stares at this figure who is dressed in plain clothes with his shiny chain mail shirt showing from underneath his black coat. He carries in his hands bastard sword, a mighty blade that reflects the torchlight throughout the crowd. He steps up to his starting position, a small wooden panel set on the ground. With a muttering of words, the warrior now known as Theutaxon raises a small silver brooch to his mouth and presses his lips to it. With all that done he waits patiently for the entrance of his opponent.

The western entrance begins to open its gaping jaw and as it does a thin figure seems to flow out of the entrance. With movements that border on dance, the fighter fluidly glides toward his starting position, two blades appearing in his hands. This elven figure puts each blade, one smaller than the other, through practiced movements.

With some unseen signal, both fighter leap into action. Theutaxon begins to move across the arena floor, kicking up sand as he brings his blade up and to the ready. Ashe's body begins to sway and move with a songless dance as mystical words flow forth from his mouth. In a quick flash, Ashe snaps his blade, a long curved blade, across in front of him as if he were attacking an unseen opponent. A blue crescent of energy leaps from the edge and races across the arena at blinding speed and unerring accuracy. The bolt blue 'blade' slams into the onrushing warrior, searing through his chain mail shirt and burning flesh. Theutaxon slows down momentarily before he once again takes up his pace, this time a little faster than before.

Ashe spins both blades around to meet the incoming warrior. Theutaxon swings his mighty blade around in a motion meant to force Ashe back, but he underestimated his own speed as the blade draws its point across the elf's unarmored chest, ripping through his dark green tunic and splashing blood everywhere. Ashe darts back and brings his own two blades around in front of him, weaving them with deadly grace. It is skill and a lot of luck that keeps them at bay as Theutaxon fends them off while looking for an opening. Ashe draws back and comes in again, this time with the shorter blade darting in first. Theutaxon sees his opening as the elf leaves his side exposed momentarily. Performing a quick spin to avoid the elf's blade Theutaxon ends it in a crouch that sees his blade connect with painful force. The sharp edge melts through Ashe's thigh, stopping at the bone. Gore sprays Theutaxon as Ashe drops to the ground, his right leg no longer able to support him. Theutaxon backs away from Ashe and quickly waves to the waiting clerics. Theutaxon looks to the crowd and bows deeply, kissing his brooch.