The invitation had been a strange one, underground combat arenas not being a particularly common part of her profession. Then again they also weren't terribly far removed from what some of her more... extreme clientele were after. She was a fairly renowned dominatrix after all, with decades of experience under her leather belt (often with her wielding it), and known to be skilled at the art of inflicting pain.

The pay seemed promising however and, more importantly, it was an opportunity to hone her skills further. Pain was an art form and like any art it must be practiced vigorously.

Thus with a slight tweak to her usual moniker, the Moth in Leather Fightgear arrived at the facility hosting the event. If, indeed, a questionably maintained building in an even more questionable back alley qualified as a 'facility'. This had been several days ago, and she had done little since but wait and maintain the edge on her blade, only interrupted to be informed of the identity of her partner in the coming bout.

Now, in the antechamber to the 'arena' proper, the M.i.L.F. finally got a good look at her new playmate. She already knew from the sheet handed to her that the girl was young and eager, but only in person could the older woman get a true measure of her character, and see just how brightly that fire shined.

And shine it did. The girl, Kontuth, was practically chomping at the bit, staring intensely at the closed doors ahead of her and flexing her well developed muscles as she kneaded her grip on her maces.

"Ready to go I see," purred the moth, "you must be quite excited for the pounding eh?"

"Yes ma'am! I'll get some glory for sure this night!" the dwarf maiden chirped, not taking her eyes from the sealed doors.

The M.i.L.F. chuckled, her innuendo clearly lost on the girl. There was no time to probe her further however, as the gates opened and the dwarf rushed into the chamber with a whoop. Their opponents also entered, an enormous, wall-like mountain of metal and fur flanked by a human in a rather outlandish getup.

The four approached each other, but before any words could be said a disembodied voice announced that the battle had begun.

The Leathermoth was the first to strike, attempting a disabling blow on the arm of the towering bear man standing opposite her. A blow that proved entirely ineffective, sliding right off her opponent's chainmail with little more than bruising to show for it.

"Well. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way then..." she muttered, before hopping out of reach of the strange human. The blow provided enough of a distraction though, and she screamed as she felt one of her arms implode.

Kontuth hurtled past, driving the human back, but the M.i.L.F. was already beginning to feel doubt about having come here. She launched several more blows, but was only rewarded with another one of her arms swatted off by her ursine adversary.

"Shit. Shit shit shit this was not supposed to go this way." What had been carefully planned, finely honed cuts and stabs towards tendons and pain points devolved into little more than a frantic attempt to preserve her life, blows aimed more at warding off her opponent than harming him.

Fear quick gave way though, and as the young dwarf drifted back into the Leathermoth's part of the battlefield the older woman's poise began to return. These weren't the steps to her dance. She inflicts the pain, and it was time to teach these worms who their mistress was.

She strode forward, shoving her dagger into the bear's hindquarters while it was distracted with Kontuth, casually hopped out of the way of his paws as he whipped around to retaliate, and struck him in the head with the full force of her kindled fury, snapping his head to the side regardless of the lack of armor penetration.

The human thrust his spear at the M.i.L.F., but this time she was more than prepared, especially as wounded as he was thanks to the efforts of her erstwhile companion. Thoroughly sick of his intruding on her work, she guided the spear out of the way on the edge of her knife, blade running down the weapon's shaft until it met the man's shoulder with a brutal thrust into the joint.

Once again the walking irritant proved to be her undoing, and she collapsed to the floor as her foot shattered out from under her with the force of an unseen blow from the armored bear. Another blow from the intolerable human came on her way down, and while it too was parried this was the final straw, and irritation gave way to rage as her opponents began to gang up on her in earnest.

Shrieking expletives, the Moth in Leather Fightwear began pummeling at the juggernaut attempting to grapple at her, her thrashing making him unable to get a solid grip, and the human unable to land a solid stab. Frustrated, the bear crushes another of her hands, but in a mirror of the beginning of the match Kontuth hurtled back into the fray and bought the harrowed moth some breathing room.

Freed from the attentions of the metal monster, the M.i.L.F. began to vent her anger on the human. By now however it was for nought, and as her dagger lodged in the man's thigh he took off yet another of her arms.

As the battle dragged yet onward, her blows continuing to be utterly ineffective against the returned attention of the armored bear, the dominatrix found herself stripped of not only her remaining arms, but her other leg as well, rendering her unable to do anything but continue to shriek her wrath at her opponents while the weight of the battle shifted entirely onto the shoulders of her opponent.

Slowly, but surely, Kontuth's fire proved itself to burn even hotter than reckoned, and standing alone she brought down her towering opponents, and even through the haze of agony and anger the seasoned sadist found herself a bit proud of the aspiring young warrior as she throttled the life from the behemoth bear.

As the dust settled though, and masked orderlies entered the ring to gather up the wreckage of the battle, the women exchanged a private glance. A simple look, but laden with meaning - This horrorshow had not at all been what they had wanted to find.

Johnathon steps to the stage, pipe in hand. He takes a long puff, then speaks

“Good morrow my beautiful fans, I hope you’re all well this fine day. By now you’ve probably all heard the promotional speech made by my fierce opponent, a one Mr. McGladiator.”

“Big words for such a small fellow, it almost makes me nervous for myself, almost. The truth is I have no intention of losing this bout, in fact I have every intention of winning this whole blasted tournament and I’m not going to let some pipsqueak with a hammer (that’s taller than he is) stand in my way.”

“I jest of course, Mr. McGladiator is a fine gentleman. And he is right about one thing, I do indeed have no defence. But let me ask you, why would I need it when my opponent can’t even carry that monstrosity he calls a hammer?”

“Well folks I can guarantee to you that by the time Mr. McGladiator has even lifted that oversized lump of metal his head will be rolling on the arena floor in a pool of his own blood. But don’t get me wrong, great guy, but after that rather heated promo of his I just think someone needs to… cut him down to size…” he chuckles, stroking his chin

“I think that’s all I have to say honestly my dear fans, enjoy your pre-fight festivities and drinks for I have a feeling this shall be the most glorious tournament we have seen yet.”

“So with that being said, don’t forget to spend your money wisely.” he winks

“I bid you adieu.”

The dwarf peered over his spectacles at the man standing before him. "Dr. Nathan Harrison, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Nathan replied. He'd seen the billboards for the tourney ever since Jeremias arrived, announcing it every year. Anyone was allowed to participate. Nothing said people from other worlds was allowed - in fact, last year, two people had done just that.

Adrinna Castator. Jeremias' friend, cut down in battle. He hoped he wouldn't suffer the same fate. The second was a Roman legionary from some alternate Earth, which wasn't on the list of dimensions XEDRA had visited. Oh, how he would have loved to travel there....

The dwarf coughed, drawing his attention. "Hub 036? Not much about that place, except that it belches smoke like a hiccuping dragon." God , Nathan thought, he looked so odd in his brown-and-navy jumpsuit, with the patch on his shoulder. Were people staring at him? They certainly did when the Hub's wood-gas vehicles rolled into town for errands. Very few of this world's natives had seen a car before.

"Well, you're certainly on for the tourney!" the dwarf exclaimed, giving an extremely firm handshake. "Though I thought they'd wait a while before sending people; most settlements do. You're a scholar, I take it?"

"Yes, of materials. Specifically, adamantine."

Upon hearing this, the dwarf's eyes went wide. "WHAT? Say, laddie, you're joking!"

"No! Of course. Do you know of Adrinna Castator?"

The dwarf hummed. "She was a traveler from a dead world, they say. Why, you like her?"

"Yes," Nathan replied. "My people were sent to this place for the purpose of building civilization here. In fact, she and my people hail from the same world."

The dwarf just stared. "I... I cannot fathom what it must be like, to lose everything like that."

"Have you?" Nathan asked. "Everyone you ever knew, dead? I can't even go back home to stand in its ruins! That would give me closure."

The dwarf muttered something to himself, before smiling. "Armok guide your axe, Dr. Harrison! All done now. Get yourself some armor from the stall over there," he added, passing a small pouch of coins over. "There's your equipment fund so you don't have to dig into the savings account."

Nathan took the small pouch with a warm smile. He picked up some various armor and tried them on with the aid of some attendants.

Eventually, he settled on a bronze breastplate and matching gauntlets. leaving the Arena with his gear in a canvas backpack, he set off towards the Hub. Hopefully no-one would mind if he went into town during his coffee break...

*

Alan Redi, the security chief, stood with a spear and pistol in hand. The gunpowder manufacturing facilities were working well, at least.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Oh, in the next town over."

"Why travel to that place? We have much more here!"

"I was just experiencing this world's history first hand!"

"Speaking of which, the tournament's up. We've got a few guys ready to go. Not you, sorry; you've got research to do. Get back to your post."

Nathan gave a small nod. They would not know what had happened until the tournament began. He'd have to keep his purchase safe from prying eyes until then.

*

The fire-axe felt unnaturally heavy in his hands. Nathan crept through the corridors in the cover of night back to his room.

It was perfect. Finding the axe was a challenge; it had to be hidden away so no one would investigate. He had almost cut himself breaking the security case's glass, and it was a miracle the alarm didn't trigger.

It was kept in a locked safe, along with the breastplate and gauntlets. Hopefully they'd be all he needed, he thought, getting into bed.

A heartbeat later, sleep took him.

One would expect an individual as loud, confrontational, and frankly foul smelling as Garl Barrowmane to do their drinking alone. Indeed, one expects someone who refers to themselves as "Barrowmane" to have few friends, and fewer social skills.

One would only be half right.

His place in the Arena secured, Garl returned to the small campsite on the outskirts of the fortress and slumped down heavily by the thin fire. Emerging from the threadbare tent came Garl's only remaining friend, a scorpion man by the name of Krat.

"It's done then. You've made up your mind."

It wasn't a question, Krat had known his companion too long to mistake the look on his face. The look of determination, contemplation, and quiet shame.

"It is done," Garl grunted in return, "Soon enough I shall have glory or death. Penance or..."

The warrior trailed off, unsure of exactly what. Truthfully he didn't expect to find glory, he was old and he was tired, his once golden hair having long since faded to an earthen brown. He ran his paws through his braids, tracing the carvings upon the beads still visible under the layers of grime. Each one was a memory of a time since passed, the last vestiges of his fallen tribe etched into the fragments of their very bones before being woven into his mane.

"You didn't fail them you know." Krat dropped a fresh log on the fire, bringing it to a more respectable size. "I doubt you'll listen to me now any more than you have the last hundred times I said it, but its still true. And besides the sooner you realize it the sooner this can end and you can scrape that filth off yourself for once. If not for you then do it for my poor nose."

Garl growled lightly, causing scorpionman to put up some of his hands. The barbarian softened at that, slumping further down.

"I'm sorry old friend," he sighed, "I know you mean no offense. Perhaps you are right, but that is why we are here. Only death can put an end to this, it is up to fate to determine who must pay that price."

"No harm done, I shouldn't have pushed like that. I know it's not my business to say one way or another. But say, for argument, that you do win. That you put paid to those ghosts around your head. Show them your mettle. What then?"

Garl studied his braids again.

"Find new ghosts I suppose. Perhaps to honor, this time."

Standard post-writeup disclaimer thing where I apologize to you all for having had to endure my literary ramblings, which even I don't know if they actually made sense this time or not.