Ivan Zagad, the lizard-man, stands in the blazing torchlight of the balcony overlooking the arena of Torgal's Pit. His spotted green skin reflects the light dully, and his black robes reflect it not at all. Evil surrounds him like an invisible darkness. His eyes flash like rubies as he speaks, accenting each 's' in a snakelike hiss. He addresses the crowd from the balcony. His voice booms unnaturally across the arena, propelled by magic.

"On the one hand we have the gnome magusss. . . Arwkin. . . and, on the other, a human paladin--" The lizard-man says the word sneeringly. "--Dextel. Both are newcomerssss. . . to the Pit. . . as are many here," he adds with a sweeping gesture to the audience. "But you know what they are here for. Tonight their blood shall be ssspilt. . . for your pleasure." He raises one clawed, scaly hand.

Dextel strides out of the gate at one end of the arena. Tall and well-muscled, he nods to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. As he walks, light glitters across his chain mail armor, emphasizing the perceptible aura of holiness that surrounds him. He salutes the opposite end of the arena.

Arwkin steps into the arena from the gate opposite the human. He diminutive body is almost comical when compared to that of the proud warrior across from him, but the crowd's applause is just as great-- something in his presence indicates the magical power at his command. As the applause dies down, a short burst of laughter flows through the crowd. A long coil of rope is tied to one of the gnome's legs. He takes no notice of the crowd's amusement but chants a few words of magic. When he finishes his spell, a small, gray mark appears on his forehead. Satisfied, the gnome goes silent.

For a moment after the laughter dies, all is quiet. Then Ivan Zagad brings his hand down and hisses, "Begin!"

Arwkin chants a few incomprehensible words and waves the rope into the air over his head. Instantly, one end of the rope flies upward twenty feet into the air and stays there, hanging down to the gnome's leg as if some invisible hook were keeping it in place. Dextel charges forward at him waving his sword, but the little gnome ignores him and begins to scurry up the rope. Charging forward, Dextel reaches the base of the rope just as the gnome is halfway up. He desperately lashes upward with his mace, but the gnome is just out of reach, and the rope, tied to Arwkin's leg, leaves Dextel with no way to reach his enemy. At last the gnome climbs the last few feet of rope and, to the amazement of the crowd, disappears completely.

"Come down here and fight honorably!" Dextel calls up, raising his maces in challenge.
Arwkin's head appears upside-down. It looks like he has entrenched himself in some invisible hole. "Not a chance! I think the odds would be slightly in your favor there. . . you fat-bellied, pignosed urn-catcher!" he replies, then withdraws his head into the hole. Chanting can be heard from within, and Dextel waits in helpless frustration as the chanting stops and the gnome begins a second spell. At last, Arwkin's head returns to view as he releases a spell, pointing one stubby finger at the paladin. An barely audible but unbearably high-pitched whine fills the arena for one moment. Dextel clutches his head, gasping in pain. As he looks on helplessly, Arwkin casts another set of spells. A second whine reverberates through the arena, and Dextel sinks to his knees.

"Come down here. . . and fight!" he growls as Arwkin begins to chant again.

"Why don't you fly up here, you cow-munching nephew of a turkey?" squeaks the gnome, letting loose another spell. This time a huge rock appears in his hand and flies at Dextel with deadly accuracy. With a roar of pain, the paladin collapses to the floor, broken and bloody.

"Interesting. . . ." murmurs Ivan Zagad, softly, as the healers pour onto the arena and the tiny gnome begins his downward climb from the rope.