"By Shinji! We have a new champion! Esteemed champion, leave the Arena now, and rest. You've earned it!"

Those were the words that Ander yearned to hear. He was an Arena combatant for nearly 2 months, and he had only faced one opponent. That match had been the most adrenaline filled moment of his life. He was paired up against an Imperial woman in a fight to the death. The crowd was deafening, his opponent was bloodthirsty, and his fellow combatants on The Blue Team had been itching to throw him into the ring. The Blademaster had shoved an iron short sword into his right hand and a leather shield into the other. The Arena combatants were given different equipment every time, so that the odds of survival were an even 50/50.

…The commentator had begun to speak "Welcome, welcome, to the Arena. We have some fresh blood for you, as two new Pit Dogs are ready to do battle to prove their worth! Ladies and gentlemen, let the match begin!"

And with that, the old rusty gates screeched open to allow the fighters through. Fumbling with his sword, Ander had just enough time to remove the weapon from its scabbard and raise his shield to block the rattling blow from The Yellow Team's Pit Dog. The Imperial battle maiden was armed with an iron long sword, a fur shield, and a leather helm. Preferring the light raiment, she moved with the agility of a fox, and struck with the ferocity of a Xivilai.

Shaking his arm to re-establish the circulation, Ander quickly did the only thing that an intelligent man would do: run away screaming. This brought roaring laughter from the crowds, and the commentator referred to him as "a scared little ninny", which was exactly what Ander felt like.

"Running from a woman!" he berated himself, "what is she going to do? What can she do? She is old enough to be my grandmother! Remember what Owyn taught you: 'The Arena may seem empty, but keep your wits about you and you will find all you need.'"

Turning around, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. To his left was a stone pillar about 20 feet high with a chain attached to it and a neck iron at the end, and to his right was the Arena wall, lined with blood coated spikes. Thinking frantically, he hatched a plan. Turning to face his opponent, Ander saw that she was laughing. This worked into his plan, for as soon as she heaved back with a wheezing intake of breath, he threw his shield right into her sternum, knocking the wind out of her. Ander instantaneously put his sword between his teeth and began to climb the stone pillar, using the chain as a pulley rope. Once at the top, he searched for his opponent. He saw her about three feet away from the foot of the pillar.

The crowd was on its feet now, watching keenly for what the apparently insane Blue Team combatant was going to do next. Ander felt their eyes on him. Their gazes pierced him like arrows. Exhaling deeply to calm himself, he tightened his grip on the chain, took a deep breath, grasped his sword in his free hand, and shot off the side of the pillar. The wind rushed through his hair, ruffled his lucky tunic that he wore under his light raiment. The chain went taut as it stretched as far as it could go. Traveling in an arc towards the other side, Ander aimed at his target, which was dead ahead of him, and hurled his sword at the opposing combatant. She caught the quivering projectile on her shield with a triumphant laugh. She didn't see what hit her.

Gaining speed as he moved towards is enemy, Ander pulled his legs to his chest and waited until he was an inch from the Imperial woman's shield, then shot his legs forward with all his strength into the heart of the defensive accessory. The Yellow Team Pit Dog was launched about 8 feet backwards, where she hit the wall, the spikes impaling her back and piercing through to her stomach. Her head slumped forward and a line of blood poured out of her mouth. The force of his blow sent Ander flying back. He let go of the chain and smashed to the ground. Coughing, he stood up.

The Arena sounded like a thousand roars of thunder. Cries of triumph and rage over lost and won bets were enough to make Ander's ears bleed. Half deaf with the racket, he limped over to the impaled woman and yanked his sword out of her shield. Sheathing it, he walked to the middle of the Arena to be beheld by the spectators.

"Citizens of the Empire, we have a winner! All hail the combatant from the Blue Team! Victor from The Blue Team, leave the Arena now, and rest. You've earned it!"…

Sighing with content, Ander was cruelly brought back to the present by a blow to the stomach by a Dark Elf that he was sparring with. The elf outranked him, Gladiator Rank, and had only agreed to spar with Ander for the chance to beat an underling to a pulp.

"Keep your defenses up, Imperial, and try to save what's left of your dignity!" the elf sneered.

"Stop using your underhanded tricks that your fifth father taught you and I will!" Ander shot back.

Ander knew that he had gone too far. Dark Elves are very one way with their women. To say that one had several fathers was the equivalent of urinating on the grave of their ancestors. The elf's eyes flared with rage and his temples protruded. Grabbing Ander's head, he dragged him over to a practice dummy and was just about to yank out a concealed knife and stick Ander through the throat when an orc came lumbering over and took a handful of blue raiment and threw the elf across the room.

The orc was wearing heavy yellow raiment and wore a steel long sword at his side. A leer covered his face and a thick scar ran from his left shoulder down to his elbow. This was Agronak gro-Malog, the Grey Prince