Today's crowd in the stands is a raucous one; the champion Beast, who 
has amassed some impressive victories with his no nonsense attitude to 
combat is one of todays competitors.  Based on his record, he's the favorite 
today, and if anyone had any doubts they had only to listen to the buzz 
among the fans.  The dwarves in the audience seemed particularly dour today; 
one of their own was to face Beast, and it was hard to ignore the many fans 
who were placing small wagers as to how far the dwarf would sail when Beast 
hit him with his oversized mallet, or as to how many pieces the dwarf would 
be in when the combat ended.  Normally a fiery people, the dwarves in the 
audience today were a small minority amongst the many fans of the Beast.

    A drum roll began, bringing the crowd to silence for the moment.  People 
watched the stone doors at the ends of the Arena, waiting to hear the 
announcer present their favorites.

    As the huge double doors simultaneously parted at the opposite ends of 
the battleground, the magically amplified voice of the announcer rang out 
through the audience.

    "At the north end of the arena is the challenger, a Mountain Dwarf of 
renown who is triply blessed by the gods of dwarvendom, I present for your 
pleasure the Priest-warrior Rockim Stonehammer!"   Out steps a husky 
red-headed dwarf with a beard to make any dwarf proud, braided with precious 
gemstones.  He wore the fine black plate mail the dwarves were so skilled at 
forging, and carried a mighty battle axe cross his shoulders, the blade of 
which glowed as brightly as the full moon.   The voices of dwarves in the 
audience rose in support of their champion, but were quickly drowned out by 
the many fans of the Beast.

    "And across from him at the south end, an Athasian giant you all know 
well, the indomitable gladiator known only as the Beast!"  Wild cheers erupt 
from the audience, but the cheers die into stunned silence as the fighter 
known as the Beast bends over at the waist to step out of the double doors.  
This isn't the Beast people were used to seeing; his ruddy red skin, glowing 
grey plate mail and the tremendous maul he brought into the ring were much 
the same as usual.  At the same time, they were wholly different.  The 
Beast, usually a towering figure of a half-giant at more than ten feet tall, 
today stood more than twice that. The stone double doors that normally 
seemed massive were dwarfed by the gargantuan fighter, who stood more than a 
head higher than the twin doors.

    "Let the Games commence" called out the announcer.

    With those words, the dwarf Rockim completed the casting of a protective 
magic, favoring all those who were true followers of the gods of the dwarves 
and a bane to all who were not.  But just as Rockim spake his word, so to 
did the Beast speak a word of activation, and simply disappeared from where 
he stood.  To appear the blink of an eye later barely ten feet from the 
dwarf, who looked like a toddler so near the huge gargatuan.  He was barely 
knee high to the towering man.

    Small though he was, the dwarf seemed to have the advantage of quickness 
on his side.  A flash of silver like the lightning of the gods flashed 
through the air, but when it met with the giant's armor there was another 
flash in answer.  The axe balde glanced off the armor without so much as 
scratching it.  The dwarf had seen this trick before and knew it couldn't 
last forever; he shifted his feet and swung his deadly blade towards the 
half-giant's other flank. At the last moment the giant twisted his hip.  
Instead of cleaving through the plate armor, the blade became wedged between 
two seams in the giant's armor.  Grinning, the Beast changed his stance, 
causing the seams holding the dwarves' blade to squeeze ever tighter, 
trapping the weapon.

    Before the dwarf even had time to consider his options, the half-giant's 
blackened maul swung forward with monstrous force; only the god's favor 
spared Rockim a crushing blow.  But before he had even released the haft of 
his axe, the huge maul, its head twice the size of a smith's anvil, came 
swinging back.  This time Beast had corrected for his aim, and the monstrous 
mallet slammed into the dwarf like an avalanche, throwing his backwards 
against the very double doors he had just emerged from seconds earlier. With 
uncanny speed the half-giant's maul swung twice more; each blow striking 
true.  The last enormous blow lifted the dwarven champion from his feet and 
hurled him like a pile of rags some thirty feet.

    The audience cheered wildly for their champion, Beast, who was no longer 
even bleeding. He turns to regard his opponent, then chuckles as the broken 
dwarf lay lifeless, bones jutting through the skin and limbs bent in ways 
unnatural.

    Priests hurry to the fallen dwarf as a cheer went up from the stands: 
"BEAST, BEAST, BEAST!".  The mammoth gladiator holds his instrument of death 
high to the delight of the cheering fans.