This was only their third bout and those 2 had been much smaller, only for advent crowds. Tryouts the master had called them, this was the real thing. Still they knew what to expect. carnage. blood. death. But also a freedom from the confines of the lab, the tests, the cramped quarters, and that awful stagnant synthetic smelling air. Out here the air only smelled of blood, sweat and fear which was a slight improvement and there would be space to run about. 

They where both scared and eager to get out of this cage, fidgeting, constantly re-positioning their spike feet to try and get the best possible starting position. They eyed up their opponents, a large metal plated man, a skeletal thin man with a mutilated face and a man with no obvious changes. Humans they had never fought before, only advents post human horrors like the dancing Viper King or the centipedel Pain Train.

the metal man and the normal human spoke of mercy, traps and weapons.

"[color=GreenYellow]I offer no guarantees of your survival Xander, if you poison yourself on my spines as we fight it will be your own undoing. Metal-man may do well to not judge by appearance, who knows what the two man-things may be hiding, it could be a trap. It must be a trap. They will wait for us to fight and then spit acid or grow knives out their knuckles or...[/color]"

they devolve into unintelligible paranoid chittering.