Darkness cloaked the vast desert wastes and Mountains of Morgrimm, the fortress and its giant gleaming towers buried in thick layers of clouds as midnight approached. Inside, thousands of wicked beings of all shapes and sizes had gathered for the Arena of Death. It was the evil Forces favourite spectator sport; a string of one-off, barbaric brawls that were battled out until all challengers were destroyed and a single victor stood alone. The current confrontation pitched twelve of this world’s most ferocious monsters against each other, and the arena was filled with the noise of clashing claws, ground-shaking growls and roars, and the very joyous crowd who cheered and chanted with every bone-crunching blow struck.
The arena was central to the fortress. It was round in shape with two viewing levels above the bottom floor where the combat took place. Both levels had impressive seats and gambling stalls, and the top level was complete with a commentator’s booth and a royal box. Riavath and Sheeva occupied that box. They sat side by side, observing everything in comfort and luxury from above. All around, winged-creatures with long snouts and short arms hovered and buzzed about in the aisles, selling food and drink to the gambling masses. Flags and banners that displayed the names of some monsters and combatants waved about in support of some, while gruesome-looking bands blasted horns and beat drums to support some of the others. Some beings were cheering and laughing, jumping and dancing about with excitement and joy, while others screamed and shouted, threw their hands up in the air and tore up gambling slips in disgust. Everywhere, the anticipation and the tension was building.
Below, monstrous creatures of all shapes and sizes battled across the arena floor, claws clattering and cutting into one another with ferocious determination and rage, and up in the commentator’s booth, a four-headed Thrax that resembled a big skinny octopus worked as a broadcaster. He was reporting on the action, bantering back and forth with himself in several different languages, his voices stirring the excited crowd and working them into a frenzy.
“Shanniz da cheezka!” one head on the Thrax shouted.
“Holum olium cascarada!” shouted another.
“Yeah, I don’t care how big you are, or how sharp your fangs are!” another laughed out loud in agreement. He was clearly enjoying himself, looking on from above as one by one the gargantuan monsters collided against stone walls and crashed to the floor in crumpled, motionless heaps. “That’s gotta hurt!”
In the end, it came down to two; a mozar and a cretadon. The mozar was a twelve-foot tall beast with long snowy-white hair, enormous claws, huge feet, and a massive set of curved ivory horns and tusks. The grey-skinned cretadon, however, easily dwarfed the mozar. This creature stood sixteen-feet in the air, and it had six enormous arms, one cyclopean eye, and a deadly set of snapping jaws...