"At least these people aren't causing havoc" he speaks quietly to himself as he scans the crowd with his gaze, noting as he does so several members of prominent crime families sitting in the stands, eagerly awaiting more legal entertainment. "Thanks to Helm for small mercies." Clearing his throat, he steps forward to the rail and prepares to bark out the ritual greeting, purposely showing no weakness in his affected limb. First however, he makes a slight nod to the most prominent of the criminal leaders in the crowd and is 'rewarded' with a self-aggrandizing smile. He murmurs to himself "If playing to their egos keeps them here instead of on the streets, then by Gehenna that's what I will do."

"Guests of Torgal Westran! Welcome! Tonight, for your entertainment, we have a match of stench, fur and will 'gainst scarred, charred flesh, as the hobgoblin Craawg Raag matches his otherworldly creations against the undeniable talents of the up and coming Crucibal, the beardless: divine adept of flame!" The crowd bursts into roars of approval as both the mighty gates to the arena open, and the combatants step out onto the sandy floor.

Craawg casts sidelong glances to the crowds as if still unsure as to if they are combatants or observers, and scratches unceremoniously at an itchy region of his blood-stained fur. As usual, catcalls and jeers rain down upon the lone gobinoid…and as usual, they are punctuated with gasps and coughs from where the creatures stench reaches the nostrils of the crowd.

Crucibal also stands forth, his flame embroidered robes flowing as he strides to reveal the glint of the bulky crimson chained mail he favors in the pit. His spiked and rust-hued great-chain is wrapped about his form as a child would hold a favored plaything…but there is nothing childish in the sarcastic eyes of the scarred dwarf.

From above comes the cry: "Dwarf and goblin! Death to one, and glory to the other! Combatants, FIGHT!"

Crucibal draws up his robe and crashes into a lumbering run towards his foe, his mail raising a din which can be heard even above the swelling roar of the crowd as this battle commences. All the while Craawg's looks about the ring refusing to meet the eyes of either the onrushing dwarf or the cheering faces above. With resolve, he bends his will to the task at hand and a shimmering construct slides into view, as if from a slice in time.

Raising it's mandibles the creature rushes forward to strike at Crucibal, however as it reaches forward a glittering barrier repulses it entirely.

The Azer-kin's eyes glint evilly as he slows his rush to sidestep futile attacks of the construct. Raising his voice in open supplication to his God of Flame, he summons his own otherworldly help. A great crimson-furred wolf appears and rushes towards the still hobgoblin, tongue lolling with anticipation, yet somehow the charge is repulsed and Craawg Raag. Standing as a statue with arms crossed, somehow manages to slide at incredible speed far across the arena floor, leaving his milk-crystal construct to battle with Crucibal's summoned pet.

Cursing, his opponents obvious superiority in speed, the dwarf turns and moves back toward the middle of the ring. Once again raising his voice to his divine patron, he calls into his outstretched hands a great orb of flame. As if focussed by the call, his mighty wolf moves away from the skittering form of the rough-formed crystal creation and charges again towards the hobgoblin. The construct gives productive chase as it's barbed limbs shine slick with blood and fur, however the results of the joint charge is obscured by the sudden appearance of three more creations from the mind of Craawg. They immediately set upon the summoned animal with claw and mandible. The animal is destroyed in a heartbeat and Craawg Raag stands forth, undamaged, and shielded by a quartet of his half-conceived creations.

A jet of dark smoke sprouts from the goblioniod's shoulder as the hurled flame of Crucibal impacts solidly on matted fur. Stepping to within combat range of the wall of shuffling crystal-creatures, the dwarf displays his cunning; ignoring them entirely, and summoning another orb of flame to hurls towards Craawg. This time however, his lanky opponent is prepared. Sliding gracefully aside as the orb sails past him, the youngest scion of clan Raag raises his arm with a gesture and locks his gaze on the scarred creature, blocked from approaching by his skittering allies. Suddenly the scars on the dwarf's flesh seem to darken and pucker…and with the continued concentration of Craawg Raawg, begin to smolder and blister.

Launching another of his flame-orbs without effect, and then another, the dwarf Crucibal raises an arm and gazes rapturously at the bubbling and searing of his flesh. Though in obvious pain, a grisly smile crosses over his face as he draws forth his mighty chain, and locks his concentration on his foe. Suddenly, the creatures preventing his charge are no more, and the dwarf rushes forward with a battle cry, but not before his nimble goblin nemesis sweeps away once more, loading his light crossbow as he does so. In a fit of pique, the dwarf watches his foe effortlessly outdistance him, whirling around the confines of the arena as he lumbers painfully about.

Halting far from the dwarf, the Hobgoblin puts his back against one of the curved pit walls and bends his mind once more to summoning a horde of his constructs to stand between he and his foe…and with a shimmer a single crystalline creature appears to protect his master. Unfortunately, Crucibal will have nothing of it.

The glimmering shield which protected him from all previous attacks bursts as the armored dwarf forgoes it's protection to bring the battle to the single creation before him. His spiked chain whirls as the creature slashes and hacks at his form, tearing his robe away to revel the entirety of his flame etched armor. Craawg, taking advantage of the melee, fires his crossbow into the fray and slips to a safer distance, only to rain more bolts ineffectually onto the dwarf's mailed form.

With a sudden twist however, somehow the crystalline entity is toppled onto it's back: it's four spider-like appendages twitching in the air…but only until the spiked links of Crucibal's armaments rob it of it's form and it's existence, and it disappears into a wisp of ether.

Glancing towards his now single foe, the Dwarf begins once more to rush towards him, only to raise his voice again in frustration as Craawg flows away at a greater rate, drawing another bolt for his crossbow as he does so.

Raising his arms in a call to flame, Crucibal calls out. "By Kossuth! Stand Still!"….

…..and Craawg Raag does. His arms frozen in place, retrieving ammunition from his side, he stands now as a true statue. As Crucibal lumbers forward with a chuckle, the arena erupts with renewed vigor awaiting the bloody spectacle to come.

The dwarf's chuckle changes to stunned silence as somehow, miraculously, the statue of Craawg slides smoothly away from him to the other side of the area. Still frozen in body, the crafty Raag proves that the power of his mind alone can protect him from the assault of his diminutive foe.

Continuing to lumber forward, Crucibal switches weapons to his half-spear and calls once more to his god; "Kossuth! Aid me to nail this filth-ridden creature down!". With divine guidance, the missile flies clear and true, puncturing the immobile side of Craawg. The crowd roars at the accuracy and distance of the throw as blood seeps forward to stain the already matted fur of the Hobgoblin.

Whirling and sliding about, the silent form of Craawg continues to avoid the advances of Crucibal until with a lurch, he regains the use of his limbs. Finally, loading his crossbow, he stops dead and fires. Once again non-plussed by the ineffective results. Crucibal charges forward at the opportunity, dropping twin vials from his hands to bring his spiked chain forward with a snap. One of the embossed flasks bursts with flame behind him, mirroring his rage as he is once again unable to strike down his foe.

Until, after several more brushes with death, dodges and attempt to avoid the charges of the seemingly indefatigable Crucibal, Craawg Raag halts and attempts to once again bring his will to bear on his opponent. With a sudden charge, the battle is ended by a single barbed tendril which reaches out to silently rip out a throat beneath Craawg Raag's stunned face.

Alsimane looks out over the crowd as they shout their adulation to the triumphant dwarf, and makes a note to himself, never to get caught with nowhere to run.