The small man stepped in from the cold night air and looked for a stool near the roaring fire, by which to warm himself. As he stood in the entryway shivering, he knew he had to get out from under that heavy byrnie that only added to his cold. Before he could tug the forty pounds of chain over his shoulders, he stopped by a big hand on his shoulder.He turned to see who might be accosting him. It was a big man, at least one foot taller, and more massive. The giant was wearing a grin, but his eyes spit venom. 'Who invited you into The Empty Flagon?" he asked the little man.

The innkeeper tried to intercede. "See here, Chaos." he said. "Everyone is welcome at my place. Why there's plenty of room and..."

"Shut yer gob, Wily." the big man ordered him. "This is between the two of us."

The smaller man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we can just enjoy the comfort of this place without having any problems, or we can do it your way, I suppose. It makes no difference to me." The man explained.

"My way?" laughed the towering presense. "Boy, I have fought and killed so many in the pit lately, that your death wouldn't amount to much more than another worthless soul for Satan to sort out."

The small man nodded. "Maybe you're right, but I can't go fighting an unarmored man who is carrying nothing but a knife. It wouldn't be fair."

"Mister," began the innkeeper. "Be careful with ol' Chaos there. He can take a lot of damage without feeling it and he can just block anything you send at him, and when you're plumb worn out, he'll gut you like a fresh mullet. He does this in the Pit twice a day."

"The Pit? What is the Pit?" the small man asked curiously.

The giant laughed. "The Pit is my home. It is where I take lives and send souls to whatever hell spawned them, and where the crowds shout my name. In the Pit, I am legend. Now, shall we dance?"

The snall man backed up and put his helmet atop his head. He picked up his great axe and nodded at the big man. The pit fighter howled and went into defensive posture, constantly shifting his weight from foot to foot while waiting for the axeman to come forward.

The armored warrior took a step to the right, feinted toward the head of the big man, and then swung his axe quickly towards the knee of the fighter. The knife came down to parry the axe, but the weight and momentum of the big weapon knocked the useless dagger aside and continued along it's arc, cleaving through the unarmored man's leg which separated from the rest of his body, causing the giant to topple over.

From his resting place on the ground, the big man seemed amused by the great gout of fountaining blood coming from the place where his leg had been severed. As he began to pass out, he uttered, in a low and shallow voice, a simple question: "Wearing no armor, parrying, and waiting for the smaller man to tire out always works in the pit. What happened?"

The little man spit on his fallen foe. "This ain't the pit, pal. This is reality." He stepped over the dead man and found a nice spot near the fire, glad of a little peace and quiet.