Artificial sunlight shines down from the ceiling on the combatants as they study the positions chosen by the other gladiators. Plans are laid in moments, and like well oiled machines, they begin to move.

Artificial sunlight beams down brightly from the ceiling, and the air is cool and dry, with a faint but noticeable southward breeze. The ground is covered in light grass. The lake is blue crystal with about thirty feet of visibility.

But as the action begins, murmuring goes on among the gods, in their own time. They discuss the spectacle before them, and critique Hethas' gambit.

Note: the gods are seated as follows, not that it matters:

Third row: Kord and Thor.
Second row: Hel, off by herself; Hextor opposite her, also by himself.
First row: Far left is Hades, Nike and Sif all together; far right, near Hextor, is Ares; center is Hethas and Wee Jas; a little to the left, Anubis.

Kord and Thor, drunkenly leaning against each other, have the least and loudest to say. Thor, still squinting at the Gladiator Guide, points aimlessly down into the arena, "Sho tho'sh tha onesh ta wash." Kord, interpreting Thor's vague gesture as only the drunk can, nods sagely in agreement, "Yesh. Eshpeshally tha dwarfs - can never wash a dwarf too mush."

Hextor leans down to Ares, commenting quietly but with some mirth, "Your champions are a bit far from my single champion, but I do admit that they look more impressive than I thought... which is to say, they'll be picking chain links out of their spleen by the time this is over."

Ares turns around and glares, "Just wait, old friend, and you will see just how useful an animal form can be."

Hextor chuckles, "Yes, I'd heard you greeks were into that."

Hel, across the arena, barely watches. Her half-formed face continues to sneer at Sif and Nike.

Nike and Sif, however, are oblivious. Talking excitedly over each other, their words falling about like overgrown puppies, they point and discuss almost simultaneously...

"That poor dwarf in the loincloth - do you think he's just realized...?"
"Yes, I do - poor lad, he's been rather ill used."
"And what about that one?"
"Marius? A bit older, but well seasoned, I think."
"Certainly skilled enough looking."
"Do you think he'll devote his efforts to us?"
"More likely Wee Jas - he seems to want to die."
"Hm. True... say, is that the Xiao family?"
"Ah, according to the Guide, yes.. you know...?"
"Hades picked them up some time ago. He's rather fond of them."
"How do you think they'll...?"
"Oh, well enough. I saw them in action a century ago, Hades was running war games with Poseidon.."
"Why isn't Poseidon here, anyway?"
"Siding with Zeus, like always. Zeus doesn't wholly approve, you know.."
"Ha! Like I care. Odin loves this place."
"But they may well do some glory here."
"Hm... any opinion on that one...?"

Hades, bless his black little heart, bears up admirably under their chatter.

Anubis, meanwhile, leans in to Hethas, concern evident on his furry features, "Milady, the... " he looks at his Guide, "...one named Osirdar, he seems to be afflicted, even in death? I understood that you restored each of them?"

"Worry not your brow for him, Lord Anubis. He has chosen that for himself. He serves Tairnandon, and believes it his duty, even unto death."

"Ah. Thank you for alleviating my concern."