Humans, such petty creatures. The wealthy and bored paying small fortunes to watch people fight, bleed, and die in a ring they could never hope to last moments in against any real warrior, anyone who was truly alive and hadn’t been blinded by the shiny bobbles and conveniences offered by the world of the bankers and politicians in return for their spirit, their slavery, their very nature as living animals. Well, “alive,” is a term nearly so tricky as the trifling nature of humanity, it goes to say, at least one of the contenders in today’s competition hardly registering as such in any biological context. Regardless, any good Gnome in the audience would have mocked the big man’s irregular size, noisily asked if his mother had been that circus elephant they had extramarital associations with that one time, and challenged him to the Old and Venerated Gnomish Tradition of Gut Wrastlin’ by now. These damn yuppie human attendees wouldn’t look the big lug in the eyes at fifty feet for fear of their heads exploding upon meeting his gaze. Beardless boys and soft ladyfolk the lot of them, not a one appeared as though they had ever seen a wild place, let alone been faced with surviving in one or dying in it. 

“Dat’ dun sound like a good idea ‘der othah Billuh Bob Gnome,” the Gnomish champion cheerily mused to himself aloud as he approached the ring parallel to and facing his opponent head on, not that anyone could hear him over the dull drone and impatient banter of the patrons quickly tiring of waiting for the blood they craved like the vicarious cannibals they were. “I gun ask ‘im if he da baby a dat’ der funny erephant, dat’ come wit’ ‘dem carne folk ta the village ‘dat one time, know wut I mean der budduh?”. Short of those in the very front rows, the people couldn’t possibly see over one another to actually notice the twenty inch tall gnome approaching the ring, wouldn’t see him until he was climbing the step ladder provided him to slip under the ropes and enter the pit proper. Gnomes didn’t have rings like this, and the lack of pyrotechnics, music and introductions was all the better for Billuh. He wasn’t really here anyway. The only human he saw was the giant he was pitted against, the backdrop in his synthetic mind’s eye a grainy reflection of his ole’ watering hole, his good drinking buddies heckling him from the corners of his vision. 

The giant was totally naked and, though never known for being a particularly well-endowed gnome as Billuh came to the step ladder a mere foot from the stage he stepped to the highest rung without entering the ring proper, bent over, unlaced and threw off his boots before whipping off the green cloth codpiece which is the only bit of clothing he actually wears and, with exception of his conical and rather ridiculous hat, entered the ring opposite Gonad only once he was equally naked for the crowd. No women would be carted out for a hundred twenty some year old nude Gnome to be sure, except perhaps to vomit, though some with particularly good eyesight might point out the small but distinct tattoo of a fat lady singin’ half on each ass cheek normally kept concealed. “Hey der budduh! I’m-muh Billuh Bob Gnome!! Othah Billuh Bob Gnome wanna know if you da baby a dat one funny erephant dat to come to da village with dem carne folk that one time who he had dem extramarital likenings wit, he-he-he-heer,” he cackled just as you might expect an ancient one toothed Gnome from the middle of nowhere might, facing Gonad without ever taking his slit electric blue eyes from his foe's hazel ones despite the obvious near five foot height difference, Billuh hardly stood to the giant’s knee as it were, waiting for a reply by his fellow with words or fists.