The Empire of Tamriel: Arena 24th Hearthfire, 4E 203

"Good citizens of the Empire, welcome to the Arena! We have some great matches for you today. Come watch as our gladiators practice their skills by fighting vicious creatures from all over Tamriel. In this match we will see fan favorite Res Lysandros fight against a fierce frost troll. Lower the gates!" The excited Imperial Arena announcer shouts loudly and the crowd stands and cheers.

Down in the Arena the iron bars on either end of the Arena drop and a dark elf dashes out from one side with his axe readied. From the other side Trollz ambles into the midst of the Arena looking around somewhat confused at the noise of the crowd. Trollz looks up at the dark elf as he dashes towards him and ducks just in time as the gladiator swings his axe at his head. Rounding upon Trollz the gladiator tries to land another blow upon Trollz whom gives him a scowl before delivering a ham-fisted punch squarely to the jaw of the gladiator knocking him down.

"Ohhhhh boy I bet that hurt!" The Arena announcer says with glee as the crowd cheers.

Spitting out some blood the dark elf rises with a slash which Trollz avoids, but deftly the gladiator pulls out a knife and imbeds it into Trollz' thigh. A trollshriek barely pierces the loud applause of the crowd. Taking the opportunity the gladiator lands a blow from his axe upon Trollz' chest leaving a nasty gash staining his snow white fur with blood. Trollz staggers backwards some and the gladiator dances around him.

Roaring out Trollz launches himself at the gladiator. A hail of punches beats the gladiator into the dust. Wounded and angry Trollz pummels the dark elf down. Dizzied the gladiator swoons before another blow knocks him unconscious for a moment. Trollz disconnects from his opponent standing over him and looking around at the crowd of the Arena

"Finish him! Finish him!" The crowd chants in unison.

"N-NO! N-no murder!" Trollz yells back at the stands and they fall silent. At his feet the Dunmer gladiator stirs back to consciousness and begins to get to his feet groggily.

"Oh goodness, a troll that can speak! Well little guy the rules of the Arena are clear, when two opponents enter the Arena only one can leave alive." The announcer chuckles and states the rules.

Trollz gives a little whimper as his opponent staggers to his feet and retrieves his axe. Closing his eyes, Trollz bows his head and accepts his fate. The gladiator looks at the frost troll astounded for moment, but seeing this unexpected luck he grins and raises his axe high in the air preparing a killing blow for Trollz' exposed neck. The crowd holds their breath.

Just as the dark elf begins to bring the axe down like an executioner from out of the stands a body is launched. In a graceful somersault a redguard man with a sword grafted upon his left arm leaps into the Arena. Landing with great force he cleaves the dark elf in twain. A few more people leap from the stands into the midst of the Arena; a pretty redhaired Breton woman, a portly Imperial man, and an orc.

"Folks please stay in your seats! You are not allowed to jump into the Arena!" The disgruntled announcer shouts out.

"Trollz is it really you?" Sir Jaquavis asks under the din of the crowd.

"F-friendz?" Trollz opens his eyes and sees his old friends in front of him. "Y-yes! I am Trollz! FRIENDZ!"

Trollz runs over to his friends and jumps upon them excitedly licking them. In his excitement the gash upon his chest squirts out some blood and Trollz swoons for a moment before collapsing. Cassandra walks over and seals the wound with a spell. Sir Plutarch, despite his great size and strength grunts as he lifts Trollz' heavy unconscious body up off the ground.

"By my power as a member of the Elder Council, and in the name of the Emperor, I must commandeer your troll to the service of the Empire of Tamriel." Sir Mazog shouts and holds up his hand, it glows with the same spell that the Emperor had blessed him with the night before signifying his rank.

"Well folks what a dramatic change of events. The Arena is proud to present to you this grand spectacle. Errr, we will not be giving a refund to anyone that bet on this match, sorry." The announcer ends his statement demurely as the crowd boos and pelts him with tomatoes.

The group of adventurers take their leave from the Arena, Sir Plutarch carrying out the sleeping Trollz.