Cage after cage of slaves were emptied into the arena throughout the day leaving only two remaining. After a time, several burly Half-Giant guards arrived to usher the last remaining slaves to the final fight of the celebration.
The prisoners were pushed into a room with piles of clothes and armor where they were forced to into conflict just to get the armor that would defend them.
The heavy wooden doors on the far side of the room swung open with a low groan, and the dark sweaty heat of the basement gave way to the dry scorching heat of the arena. They squinted as they were sent into the full light of day and a crescendo of jeers assaulted the slaves from the walls above.
A rotund dwarven announcers called out from the safety of his arena box in a booming voice “In those early days before our lord Andropinis, the savages that inhabited our lands were weak, and lived in constant fear of the terrible creatures of the desert!” as he gestured to the far end of the arena where a group of officiators were delivering massive cages to the stadium floor. Strewn about the arena floor are the weapons used by the fighters who came before them, and they took no time to scavenge for the tools to defend themselves.
As they grabbed up the last of their weaponry the officials released the door latches and ran to the safety of the inner coliseum, as the cage doors swung wide and the beasts bound from their prisons, and leveled their hungry gazes at across the arena.”
The reptiles cut a bloody swath through the unprepared gladiators, and several fell, but ultimately the fight belonged to the humanoids.
As the dust settled and cheers died down, there was a momentary respite as a handful of Half-Giant slaves threw the freshly slain into gutters at the edge of the stadium. The survivors were ushered back, and the ground rumbled as several curious devices were wheeled into the arena and locked in place.
The announcer roses and raised his arms to the crowd once more. “It was in that time that our Benevolent lord Andropinis first sent emissaries out into the land offering peace and safety under his rule, but the desert heathens lashed out, and fought against the Sorcerer King’s grace in their fear and ignorance”
On the far side of the arena a number of heavily armed gladiators entered the arena adorned in tabards emblazoned with the symbol of Balic. They raised their arms to the crowd to uproarious cheers, and the ramshackle slaves got the sinking suspicion that they were not the heroes of this story.