The orc stood in the middle of the dusty arena, his sword gleaming in the midday sun. He who was once no more than a petty slave had become one of the most promising warriors in the arena. Pitted against many foes, he had won his freedom. After winning his freedom in the arena, the orc had continued, earning vast amounts of gold and had become one of the most famous gladiotor to ever grace the arena. Every day challengers tried to defeat him but all were cut down. As grand champion of the arena he was able to challenge the King himself. That was just what he did.

“Apoc(a-poc), my lord, please do not accept the challenge. He is young and strong. You are an old and wise king, but you are not as strong as you were in your prime, nor have you fought in a long time. He will surely kill you.” pleaded the kings adviser.
“If I do not I shall be branded a coward. I will be remeberd as a worrior, not a coward, and I shall die honourably. I can think of no way to die more glorious then death at the hands of a warrior better than myself.” Apoc replied.
“Please my lor..”
“Enough! I will accept his challenge.”
“Very well.”
Apoc stood up from his Throne, lifting the axe by his thrones side into the air.
“I accept!” His voice boomed, easily heard by all spectators.

The king took up his armour and descended the stairs behind his throne. These stair led directly to the arena. The King walked through the gate that led to the dustbowl and walked slowly towards his combatant.
“Now...fight me!” screamed the king king.
Apoc swung for his opponents chest, planning on ending the battle quickly.The other orc easily jumped back though, then counterattacked. The king lifted his axe up and the two weapons locked. Apoc drew his weapon close to himself along with opponents. The two were so close that they were practically breathing down each others throat.
“Apoc,” said the orc ”why have you held back?”
“I did not how powerful you were Ragnar(like ragnarok).” answered the king.
Ragnar unlocked the two weapons and brought his sword around, fast as lightning, to sit millimetres from Apocs throat. Apoc looked at the gleaming blade, knowing his doom was near. Shining sweat gathered on Apocs forehead as he prepared for his death. Ragnar lowered the blade and stood back.
“What is this!” screamed Apoc, anger lacing his voice.
Silence gathered between the two for what seemed liked hours. The silence was finally broken when Ragnar talked. His voice was calm, deep and laced with bloodlust.
“Don't hold back!” his voice boomed.