The fighting isn't over

As you wait, a large squad of armored men come out, carrying a variety of blunt weapons. The shields they carry have the same insignia as the banners that fly about, making you suspect that they are some kind of military or guards. There's no pageantry indicating the arrival of a noble eminence, so royal guard is out. The men surround you and the half-elf, and you see a few in the back of the group have chains and collars to restrain you, to take you back in as the **** that you are.

That's not going to happen, not without a fight.

You wait for one to move towards you before you plant a heavy fist straight in his face, bringing him down into the sand immediately. Not waiting for a reaction, you lower your body to grab your mighty double axe, taking a hurling swing at the legs of your oppressors. Most are adept enough to take a step back, but you're able to catch one unlucky sod just below the knee, taking him out onto his back and likely permanently crippled. The half-elf, seemingly being an inherent follower, grabs her spear from the dirt and menaces the rest of the soldiers. They keep their distance, wary to be the next one to be injured, or killed.

Your resistance and carnage against the guards is heralded by the audience, but theirs is an adoration that is lost as quickly as it is gained. The guards hold their shields against each other in an arc, pressing forward slowly to close the distance between them and you. Both you and the half-elf taking sparing shots to try and break the defense, but to no avail. You find you are being pushed back against the wall, where you will have nowhere else to move. In an act of desperation, you take a wild overhand swing to move above the shield line. Your axe clears the shields but fails to strike anyone, and in this moment of over-extension, the guards make their move. Lowering their shields, they collectively strike you both with maces, clubs, and warhammers. There is too many of them to mount an effective defense, and you quickly find yourself face first in the dirt. The merciless beating from the guards stops just for a moment, right before you start to feel your mind slipping. At the edge of consciousness, you feel a collar put around your large neck and your arms bound behind your back. The last image you see is one of the guards, about to swing his mace at the half-elf's head, her hands up in surrender.

You wake up to find yourself chained to a wall in a darkened prison; no light but the dim torches, though your orc senses allow you to see better than most. This place has the stench of ****, disease, and despair. This seems to be the holding cells for the poor souls **** to compete the arena, like you. Just as you stir awake, you feel a violent exhalation of breath, as a club forcefully pushes the wind out of your lungs.

"I bet you think you were being quite clever, or brave out there" A strange voice addresses you. As you recollect yourself and bring your eyes open, you see an old, portly man, dressed in extravagant fine robes, with an ornate walking stick. Whoever he is, he certainly doesn't reside here normally; there's not enough shit on him to be anything other than a visitor. "I assure you, you were neither."

You growl in quiet defiance, which catches his reaction "I'm sorry beast, did you have something you wanted to say? Can you actually form words with what little sense your kind has for an intellect?"

You nod, and protest in further defiance "Do you plan on talking me to ****, or can we wrap this up?"

"Cheeky..." As the old man brings his hands in front of him and rest both on his walking stick "Don't think you're the first disrespectful **** I've held in here, beast. You will fight for me, not against me. Fight well, or else you will die. Don't think of escape, nobody has ever tried and succeeded, and you don't have the sense in your head to be the first"

"If I can't escape, than my **** here is certain. I will at least die trying to taste the sweet air of freedom, rather than kill for your petty games."

"That's what they all say. Very well than beast, have it your way..." You receive another blow from a guard, this time to your head. Your head swims for a moment, and by the time you fully come to, the two men are gone.