With chains clasped on his wrists and the commanding barks of the arena guards in his ears, Eltharion found himself being tugged along as Kamnar started to trudge forward. The architecture here was greatly different than what he was used to and he felt a tad claustraphobic as he walked beneath the worn stone doorway of the building. As he entered, the pungent scent of sweat and the ferrous smell of blood mixed into his sensitive nose, causing him to wince and turn away, but it was no use. He could already feel it permeating his rags and skin. He convinced himself that this was nothing new. He had already faced much worse in the field against dwarves and the smell would be the least of his worries. The blank sandstone blocks seemed identical as they were marched down the corridor, the sounds of their clinking chains echoing down the hallway. At the same time, they could hear muffled cheers as the people inside the arena grew raucous at some exciting turn of events.

After what seemed like an hour traversing the worn stone floor, Eltharion gathered the distinct feeling that they were descending. He felt a gentle pressure in his sensitive elven eardrums as he followed Kamnar, almost tripping on a raised section of flooring. The narrow passageway soon opened up into a wider area lit with torches, where the smell of blood, antiseptic, sweat and pain all mingled together to form an unholy brew. Everywhere he looked he could see someone. Some where in better shape than others while others looked minutes from becoming a corpse. They stopped for a second as two humans ran past with a stretched between them, bearing a screaming orc  as a length of shattered metal was lodged in his chest. "I like not the look of this place," Eltharion muttered under his breath as they were herded towards an emptier section of the room. As the drew closer, the elf spotted a wooden platform with a series of beams and pulleys attached to it. A wrought iron cage with a gate surrounded the structure and he could see the light of day flooding in from above. Suddenly a screaming elf fell through it, landing with a resounding thud against the wooden floor. The sound caused many of the people in the room to look around, but they quickly dismissed it as if it was completely normal. Cheers rang through the stone room before a thin, sickly looking man walked up to the gate, swinging it open. "Those under Lanista Eridius please enter the lift," he shouted as the previous two humans ran in to remove the supine elf, dragging her away by her hands and legs. An unhealthy amount of blood stained her leather wrappings. He noticed that a few of their group, namely the small human, gasped and muttered amongst themselves. Eltharion himself stayed silent. Death was a common occurence to him...but to die for the entertainment of other...what cruel joke was this. 

"Fifty denars the elves don't live," remarked a brutish looking face beside them. Large, hale and scarred all over, the human male sneered as he ran a whetstone over the edge of his axe, striking sparks which lit up his dim corner. "You would be surprised how nimble we can be, Ortega," muttered a more refined voice as an elf strode past, a noble leonine face joining the voice as she shed her thin layer of leather armour, revealing a bloodstained aketon "strength does not only come in the form of a sack of meat." Their little spat grew more indistinct as their little group was directed away to a little alcove. Shelves and racks lined the walls, sparsely filled with weapons and rusted armor plates. As the final member of their little party filed into the now slightly cramped cavern the orc that they had seen at the Lanista's ludus removed a rusted set of keys from his belt and proceeded to unlock the chains of every one of them, letting them clatter to the ground. 

Rubbing his chafed wrists, Eltharion walked up to one of the racks and started to eye them over. These weapons were not of elf worksmanship, that was for sure. Mass produced, heavy looking and crude, these all bore the hallmarks of the standard human forging process. As he started to reach up to grab one of the spears on the wall, he felt a brutal hand on his shoulder drag him back, the thick green fingers applying undue pressure to his joint. "Don't touch the weapons," he hissed, sending spittle over the elf's face. "How do you expect us to fight without any arms?" the elf hissed back angrily as he pulled the orc's hand off, turning to face him. "That's not me problem now, is it?" was the reply as the orc scooped up the chains and left the alcove, leaving the new gladiators stunned. They were to be unarmed? Eltharion gritted his teeth. he did not like his chances in unarmed combat...

A few moments later, the Lanista hobbled in, his cane making a rhythmic tapping along with his peg leg. As the torch finally illuminated his face in the doorway, Eltharion stepped forward. "What is the meaning of this, Lanista?" he asked as he held his arm in check, "I thought you wanted us to fight, not die like newborn lambes."
That all knowing grin spread across the old man's face again as he leaned his back against the stone wall. "Ye'll be goin' into the arena unarmed aye," he said as he scratched the back of his neck, "but your opponents...oh they'll be equipped with some weapons alright."
"I hardly find that sporting," Ktakar interjected as he stood up straight, fluffing his feathers, "we'll be slaughtered in seconds. Even for a place where we're supposed to die, thats too quick."
"I never said those opponents had to keep those weapons," the lanista mused as he shrugged, "plus you might find some other equipment scattered around from...uh...previous challengers that weren't cleaned up. Other than that, good luck my friends."
As he turned to leave, something seemd to strike him haflway out the door. "Oh, and I should remind you. Look to your left, then look to your right. Remember these faces. They will be your allies for this fight. Try not to stab them in the heat of the moment." With an offhanded wave, he disappeared into the dimly lit hallway, leaving his gladiators stupefied. Ever quick to take charge, Eltharion sighed and folded his arms. "Well, any bright ideas?" he asked as he sat against the wall, eyeing the spear racked on it. Perhaps he could sneak one in...