[Demda]

The next darkening found Demda being dragged out from the pavilion, onto the road, and toward the large U of seats that lined the angry pit. An angry chant interspersed by laughter and howls punctuated the atmosphere, as hundreds of orcs sat on their stone benches. Demda was led down to a pit ringed by large tusks and iron blades, about two meters deep. She landed with a thud as they cast her into it. It was then that she noticed the deep redness of the ground, where thousands of other combatants had shed their life's blood. And where one more would, before the darkening was done.

She stood slowly, to hear the mingling delight and derision of the surrounding orcs as they cheered at the thought of bloodshed. Suddenly, at the south side of the pit, where there were no stone benches, an orc appeared from the press dragging a man in brightly colored silks, yellow chased by purple. With one great heave he was sent reeling into the dirt.

There they stood for a moment, before Demda came charging through, screaming over the laughter and howls of the orcs.

"No, please." He was sobbing as she pushed him down. But the wretch didn't care. She knew what the orcs were howling to see, and they would have it.

"Fight," She rasped, when she was close enough for him to hear.

He blubbered for a moment and rose, then put up his fists. The orcs howled with renewed mirth.

The wretch moved first, launching a punch directed toward his belly. The man lowered his hands ever so slightly, allowing his forearms to absorb the blow. Now feeling a bit of confidence, the man looked and seemed to see his opponent for the first time. She saw the beginnings of hope dawning in his eyes.

The man loosed a punch toward her head, which she side-stepped easily, and then another to catch her where she'd dodged, but she ducked just before it connected. Then she was bowling forward with her shoulder running into his gut. The man grunted as he hit the dirt. The orcs were beginning to howl for blood. After that slight show of confidence, Demda was obliged to give it to them.

All along the walls were spikes, much like the tusks and iron blades that ringed the top of the pit. They made the fight more dramatic, as one mistep might mean death for the unwary. As the wretch looked at these spikes, the man caught her eye and followed it, and then yelped in horror. "Gods, no..."

She didn't wait for him to turn around. Within a second, she had already wrapped the chains that shackled her wrists around his neck, and was fighting him down to his knees. The man gurgled and struggled and fought with all the strength he had, but it wasn't enough to overcome the tough young wretch that had him in her grip.

Finally he began to throttle her, first targeting her legs, then her chest, and finally her belly. The final blow wasn't as easy to shrug off, and she fell back, her chains still entangled around his neck.

Red-faced and grimacing, the man took her by the arms, and made to fling her into the spikes. However, she still had a grip on his neck, and was able to use her own momentum to spin him around and force him into the iron glaive in her place.

A red blossom bloomed from the middle of his chest as the glaive cut through spine, heart, and breastbone. She wasn't able to get away before the blood washed over her, drowning the howls of the orcs for a moment as it ran down her ears. But the noise was back within an instant, like the fell hounds of some red hell. They had her out of the Angry Pit within the minute.