<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Hades’ Arena</span></span><br/>(http://[url=http://wallpaperswide.com/thumbs/mortal_kombat_kahn_arena-t2.jpg]http://wallpaperswide.com/thumbs/mortal_kombat_kahn_arena-t2.jpg[/url])</div><br/><strong><em>In the  deep wastes of Hell, stands a colosseum (http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2724/4038401452_5a7f18433f.jpg) two hundred feet high, a lone structure in the middle of a wind blasted land forsaken.  Nothing grows and nothing is hidden.  Bones of gargantuan beasts long dead decorate the surrounding plains and the blood orange cracked earth screams for a drop of water that will never come.  A graying sun shines high in a garish green sky, its light nothing more than an illusion.  When night falls, the land is swathed in an ink black blanket and light suffocates to breath.   The torches of the structure are lit and it is an oasis in the darkness….or is it.<br/></em></strong><br/><br/>The rumbling and stamping of bloodthirsty spectators came through the open doors of the balcony.  The balcony that Balthazar (http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs45/f/2009/091/d/a/demon_lord_by_heise.jpg), Arena Master would make his appearance.  For now, he let them wait.  The Princes, the slaves and all the hardened denizens of Hell who bothered to make the dangerous trek across the desert.  Let them wait.  None could supplant him and none would dare to try.  Only the Lord of Hell himself could do so.  Besides, it was a punishment for him to endure here until he was released.  It was much safer for all if he was the Arena Master.  Released from his prison for a crime he had yet to admit to, he would once more terrorize the world and no one in Heaven nor Hell would be safe from his thirst for blood.  Still he could have had worse punishments and this one afforded him moments of pleasure.<br/><br/>Pleasure he was partaking in at the moment with whip in hand.  With a sharp tipped grin, he raised the whip and brought it down on the slave splayed out spread eagle on a rack he had specially designed for his chambers.  She was lovely and had a very nice scream but had no flair for the arena.  Slaves needed a purpose, hers was to be his whipping girl, even if it meant until she bled for him.<br/><br/>He slipped closer, careful to keep his silk robe from touching her bleeding thighs.  He ran a finger through the split welts, her whimpers music to his ears.  He wondered if her head hanging of the rack was discomfiting in the steel mask she wore.  As he put his finger to his lips a sharp hiss sounded and Balthazar made a face.<br/><br/>“Out with it, Shroika,” he said, giving the snakelike servant leave to speak.<br/><br/>“Massssssster, the crowd hungers for blood.  It isssssss time.”<br/><br/>Balthazar flicked his fingers and the servant slammed against the wall, hands at its throat.  The panicked hissing and struggling did not stop as the Arena Master put his hands to his temple and rubbed them.<br/><br/>“Do not presume to tell me when it is time but I suppose it is, so I will go.”  The servant was released from the wall where it slid to sitting and panted it’s apologies.<br/><br/>Balthazar slipped his silk robe from his body, standing in his nude glory.  He was a marvelous specimen of human perfection.  Long silken black hair and a toned body, lithe and athletic.  He was the envy of any human male and the desire of its females, or vice versa depending.   This, of course was not one of his true forms.  No matter how pretty he looked, he was still a monster to his core.  As he walked to the balcony, his form became larger, shifting.  It was a mere fluid seconds and in the place of the man was now a beast (http://s566.photobucket.com/albums/ss106/Spazguy55/?action=view&current=DarknessLord.jpg&newest=1).  Huge and impressive he struck fear into most demons and the stupid ones tried not to respect him.  Great curving ram’s horns and a skeletal visage to bring nightmares to life.  His Armor was made from great serpents killed by his own hand and decorated with the souls of his enemies.  The crimson cloak that draped his shoulders, shifted and moved and as he stepped into the ugly light of the Arena, a great cheer arose.  The cloak snapped open and spread out to reveal great leathery wings that stretched outward with gleaming fearsome talons upon the ends.<br/><br/>“Greetings.  Tonight is special as we have guests of Honor.  The Princes have deigned to join us,” he began with a nod to the  Princes.  Inside he was rolling his eyes.  He grinned, the smile stretching across his face like a grimace of pain.  “So for these honored guests, I have something quite special.  New slaves for the Arena.  Since I am a demon of few words….let the pain begin!”<br/><br/>Balthazar took his place on his throne of bleeding bones and watched the proceedings of which, the new slaves were brought out to be introduced by the Arena master of ceremonies.  A small demon imp that looked like a cross between a goat and a catfish with horns.<br/>