It seemed as good a day as any to die.  So thought thousands of 
screaming spectators who would watch this next match in the tournament to 
crown a Grand Champion.  Especially vocal in their support  were the many 
dwarves in attendance today; their own Rockim Stonehammer, favored of the 
dwarven god Clangeddin Silverbeard was doing battle this day.
    Clangeddin was revered as the Lord of Battle, and surely Clangeddin's 
powerful spells and Rockim's own mystic battle axe would overcome this 
challenger.  The challenger was an ogre mage who called himself Cyan, a 
fighter as well as a wizard.  Born with their own innate magical abilities, 
many ogre magi gravitated to learning wizardry.  It seemed to come easy for 
them, as they were already able to channel magic before even learning its 
fundamental principles.
    The money riding on the competitors today was fairly even; but that was 
due in part to large sums of dwarven gold changing hands.  These hail and 
hearty folk were confident, as many sent up silent prayers to Clangeddin in 
support of the dwarven hero Rockim.The blare of trumpets brought the crowd 
to a near hush.  Things were about to get interesting, as eyes turned 
towards the gates through which the combatants would emerge.
    The announcer's voice was a rich baritone that seemed to echo in the 
colosseum's upper reaches. "Coming out of the north gate is an ogre mage 
renowned for both his swordsmanship and his mastery over the magical arts.  
I present the ogre mage Cyan!"
    Cyan stepped forth, his topknot of greasy black hair and horns nearly 
grazing the roof of the exit tunnel.  The ogre mage stood twenty feet tall 
or thereabouts.  He was clad in a kimono of fine silk died robin's egg blue 
and decorated on the back with what looked like scarlet runic markings; on 
his feet he wore sandals.  About his waist he wore a crimson sash, and 
thrust through it were various swords and knives, all glowing with an aura 
of enchantment.   A shimmering blue field hung about the ogre mage like a 
second skin.
    "From the south gate I present to you good fans, Rockim Stonehammer, a 
mountain dwarf who swings his battle axe in the holy service of Clangeddin 
Silverbeard."
    A loud roar went up from the dwarves watching; they were certainly a 
vocal people.  Rockim was an unusual looking fellow with auburn hair but a 
long silver beard; in the usual style his beard was carefully plaited and 
had elaborate silver beads and gemstones to elevate its granduer.  One thing 
a dwarf never left alone was his or her beard.  He was wearing gleaming 
plate mail armor of dwarven fashion, strong and meant to last for centuries. 
  The battle axe in his ruddy hands glowed with a rouge light, thirsting for 
blood.  A single ioun stone spun about and around the dwarf's head.
    With a signal from his honor the Mayor, the trumpeters gave the signal 
for the game to begin.  Cyan made a gesture and spoke a word, less than the 
blink of an eye later there were now four ogre magi and not one.  Each stood 
ten feet from the other in a line; they were an imposing sight at a height 
of twenty feet tall!  But dauntless of the hazards ahead, the dwarf charged 
across the field of battle, the name of Clangeddin on his lips.  For a dwarf 
he exhibited extraordinary running speed, but those who knew him had seen 
this before.
    His pace quickly ate up the ground, but not nearly quick enough.  All 
four ogre magi weaved their hands in arcane gestures and mumbled words of 
magic when suddenly a stream of magical missiles, each shaped like a glowing 
green dagger, shot forth from the fingertips of one.  The missiles found 
their mark unerringly, but they hardly even slowed the charging dwarf, who 
appeared to be working himself into a battle frenzy for when he finally 
reached his competitor, who showed no sign of wanting to close the gap.
    Even as he ran, still the ogre magi gestured.  This time from the hand 
of a different ogre mage than the one previous, a blast of rocks and dirt 
like an avalanche but sliding along level land rammed the dwarf head on.  
Though he was buried up to his shoulders, livid bruises showing on his face, 
the dwarf ran out of the pile of dirt he was buried in as though it didn't 
exist and continued onward towards his wizardly foe.
    But fate was again unkind to the stalwart dwarf, for even as he was 
nearly upon his four opponents, the Cyans flew upward in a rush, still 
calling upon their arcane powers, still weaving spells.  From thirty feet in 
the air above the dwarf a solid wall of ice a good ten yards on a side and a 
yard thick was conjured, but it had no magic to hold it in the air.  It 
crashed to the earth and crushed the dwarf beneath its ponderous weight 
before breaking into huge chunks.
    In the aftermath of the falling wall, Rockim Stonehammer still stood and 
let loose a stream of dwarven curses at the cowardice of his opponent.  "If 
ye won't come to me and fight fair, Clangeddin will deliver you to me." he 
raged below, while the ogre magi hovered some sixty feet above him.
    Now the dwarf leaned his axe against himself as he summoned to himself 
the power of his god, while above him the four ogre magi all pointed 
downwards with their right hands.  From the one on the far left, a 
glittering beam of stark whiteness shown down on the dwarf.  It vanished in 
but an instant, but left the dwarf covered in frost, icicles clinging in his 
beard.
    Not deterred, the dwarf gestured with short, clipped hand movements, 
then directed a finger at the leftmost ogre mage and spoke a guttural word.  
  Clangeddin above heard and answered the dwarven priest; suddenly all four 
ogre magi shrunk to only ten feet high, still an imposing height, but 
moreover, they began to fall.  The ogre magi all hit the ground with jarring 
force, probably breaking some bones at the least.  Still the blue glow hung 
about them, still four of the creatures were evident.
    Now that his foe was finally within reach, if hidden amongst illusions, 
Rockim rushed ahead with his axe arcing above his head in a swing meant to 
impale the ogre mage through the chest.  But as he cleaved his opponent, he 
found it was but illusion - it instantaneously vanished.  Running ahead with 
the same intent, the dwarf acheived the same result - an "ogre mage" was hit 
and vanished.
    Now there were but two waving and gesturing ogre magi.  From the hand of 
one came a scouring blast of water, but it missed the dwarf cleanly.  Now 
he's sure he knows which target is real, but as rushes forward and swings 
hard enough to cut even a ten foot tall opponent in twain, it's another 
illusion!  Which leaves but one target, this time when Rockim runs ahead and 
his battle axe crashes into his opponent, Cyan doubles over with pain.  But 
the blue radiance also creeps up the enchanted axe, and leaves Rockim 
shivering as though he were about to die.
    Now each foe has earned the other's grudging respect, and they step back 
a step from each other.  Both call upon magic now, the ogre mage and the 
dwarf both weaving spells, the dwarf's axe leaning against his side.  As the 
dwarf finishes, some of the worst of his bruises fade, while the weaving of 
Cyan seems to have no immediate effect.  But now as he finishes, the ogre 
mage finally draws a wickedly sharp and dazzling adamantium blade seven feet 
long in his right hand and a smaller and less magically charged, four foot 
sword from his sash.
    The ogre mage looks to be in the worse shape of the two now that the 
dwarf has worked some healing spell.  Which is fine with Rockim as he grasps 
his powerful axe in both hands and prepares to meet his opponent the way he 
had originally intended.  As he steps forward, the ogre mage's two swords 
each stab forth seeking his heart, but the finely crafted armor turns away 
the near-giant's blows.  But as the dwarf prepares to end this fight with a 
wicked death blow, his magic axe stops when it hits Cyan as if it had hit a 
stone wall.
    Reversing his grip, Rockim swings the axe in a reverse arc, but again, 
the axe stops as if by magic, which is exactly the case.  The embattled and 
frustrated dwarf begins trying to parry his opponents blows, but somehow the 
shorter sword always manages to attack and retreat before the dwarf's axe 
can meet it.  The fans are riled to a fever pitch, sensing that the battle 
is nearly over, but for whom?  Though he seems to be the more skilled 
fighter, the dwarf is stymied by another magic protection, while the ogre 
mage tries to penetrate the dwarf's defenses.
    After the battle rages for another several minutes, with the two 
warriors trading blows back and forth, Rockim sees a wide opening and swings 
forward with his axe, determined to cleave his opponent, but again meets 
with the same unyielding flesh of the ogre mage.  While this time the ogre 
mage's thrusts finally strike true, felling the dwarf to his knees.  With a 
gurgled gasp of surprise, the dwarf slumps to the ground, red blood staining 
the earth from his wounds.
    Hardly strong enough to walk himself now that the adrenaline is no 
longer pumping, Cyan leaves the battlefield as fans in the stands above yell 
and scream, and a contigent of dwarven clerics rush onto the field to see 
what can be done for the fallen Rockim.