"Civilized peoples of the Realms!" he cries out, turning to sweep the crowd with his voice.
"Tonight, there will be no competition of heroes in Torgal's Pit."

Stunned murmurs rain down on the legionnaire's bland face as discontent begins to swell…until it is broken by a chuckle as he continues his announcement. "Instead we offer a contest between the two vilest humanoids ever to disgrace our company! Who will win? Who cares! For surely their kind only deserves death….rather like kobolds. Nobles and tradesmen, I give you the mind-bending hobgoblin Crwag Raag against the spell-wielding troglodyte Flegmar!" Relieved chuckles shift into roars of approval as the twin portals to the pit grind open.

Alsimane leaves the sands quicker than usual, his reasoning becoming evident as the combined stench of the two combatants now brings groans of disgust from the crowds, and curses from the sellers of confectioneries. Crwag Raag, clad only in a loincloth and matted, blooded, fur slides smoothly into the pit, holding a small crossbow in his arms and a modest spear across his back. He peers forward silently; successfully ignoring the crowd as they rain their customary abuse upon him. His interest is captured swiftly however, as his opponent steps from the shadows of the opposite entry corridor.

Flegmar moves stiffly into the ring, his jaw clenched and his lips bloodied by his fangs as they grind back and forth obsessively. His breath comes in quick bursts as his eyes lock without compromise onto the form of his foe. The crowd, expecting the creature's usual innuendo and promises of an upcoming supper, register obvious surprise at the trembling fighter who has come before them. Flegmar looks to Crwag Raag with a glare of purest hatred.

Not waiting for any call to fight, Flegmar raises his arms and coughs out the words to an well-known incantation. The blue glow of his enchantment covers his clawed hands as he begins to walk forward to strike at his foe. The Raag is not caught off guard however, as he bends his will motionlessly to the summoning of one of his shimmering minions. A globular creature the size of a man, vaguely resembling an octopus, appears and slurps messily towards the troglodyte; attacking wildly with a flurry of blows.

Ignoring the creature, Flegmar raises his hands, and the blue glow discharges, sheathing a bolt of black energy which strikes unerringly at the chest of the disgusting goblin-kin. Crwag reels at the impact and swallows heavily, seemingly weakened, and then bends his mind once more to the fight. A look of consternation crossed his face suddenly and his eyes dart side to side as if he is unsure as to what has just happened, but only for a moment. His eyes lock once more onto his foe with no obvious effect. The summoned glob continues to slash at the enraged lizard-creature as he continues to advance. Suddenly a frigid blast streaks out, again striking Crwag solidly with an arctic bite.

Crwag replies with a bolt from his crossbow, which buries itself deeply in the throat of the Troglodyte. The crowd shrieks their appreciation for the obviousy mortal blow, only to fall suddenly into stunned silence.

Flegmar slowly reaches up and rips the quarrel from his flesh. The wound heals instantly.

Acid rains from the hands of Flegmar bringing an acrid cloud of burning fur to the noses of the shocked spectators, and Crwag responds in kind as he bends his mind to boiling the blood of this creature who by rights should be no more. Ozone and a small thunderclap are the sole result of a streak of energy which fails to wound the concentrating Hobgoblin whle unnoticed, the innefective octopus creation of Crwag disappears into a whiff of ether.

Those with knowledge arcane spoke often of what happened next following the match, describing it as a direct confrontation between forces magical and obscure. For as the flesh of Flegmar attempted to boil under the will of Crwag, a mystic force came into play striving to prevent the damage. The result was a contorted shimmering rain of slow ash materializing from the air surrounding the warriors. A great roar accompanied the display, more inkeeping with the great powers at play.

Flegmar attempts to break Crwag's concentration with a shriek of rage; charging into battle. Succeding solely in coming a hair's breadth from being tripped by the crafty hobgoblin and acting as target to a ricocheting crossbow bolt as he advances.

A burst of flame from the near-visible ashen aura surrounding the Troglodyte singes him noticeably, and sends him into a violent flurry as he claws and even bites at the still concentrating Crwag. Driven back by this fury, Crwag smoothly maintains his concentration, bringing his spear into a defensive posture to prevent any sudden rushes by his enemy.

Nevertheless, one of Flegmar's claws finds purchase and suddenly the ashen roar is no more as Crwag looses his focus. He then slides with remarkable speed across the length of the arena, clutching lightly at a wound on his side. Flegmar races after his opponent, only to run unexpectedly into a puddle of slippery grease which deposits him un-gently onto the pit floor. Struggling to right himself at continue his assault, crossbow bolts rain down on Flegmar. He lurches forward away from the slick trap, and then, suddenly. The assault of ash and fire begins once more. He stalks in towards his foe.

One more wounded, Crwag continues to maintain his concentration on the assault of the beast before him. His constant evasive skittering finally brings a frustrated cry from the scaly assailant, however. "Filthy coward! Stop fleeing!" However the command is ignored, despite the obvious mystical undertones to the words.

The crowd is gripped by Deja-vu as once again Crwag's psychic assault ends and once more, he skitters to the other side of the ring. Again, Flegmar gives chase, only to land unceremoniously on his rump as a slippery patch forms beneath his feet. He rises and continues the assault.

Two solid minutes of skittering evasion, concentration, and clawing bring two more bursts of damaging flame to wound Flegmar. However, his endurance and pure hate-driven rage finally pay off as he manages to claw his hovering foe to the ground. Unconcerned with dining, he proceeds to rip the unconscious Crwag limb from limb until he is forcibly, violently, removed from the arena by a swarm of pit guards. As he leaves, his eyes are far away, as if remembering things lost long ago.