Tina shrieked and pulled her arms up to protect herself terrified she was going to be horrible burned and in response he jabbed her with it right in the belly. And she, felt… nothing. Not even much warmth.

He retracted the torch.

She stared at her midsection. It looked a little scorched, but that was it. The dwarf stood there with the burning torch in hand, head cocked.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” she demanded to know. “How come you didn’t warn me?

“To show you, you don’t need to be afraid,” he told her. “And to remind you, you have excellent reflexes and good survival instincts. You’re not in any danger from a little torchlight.

“No, just from psychotic dwarves!” she yelled back.

Her anger continued simmered while Devon continued to rummage through the chests and wardrobes spread around the chamber, finally coming up with a pile of clothing and armor for her to choose from. There were all sorts of clothing and fabrics, some of it did look practical, some of it not so practical and appeared to be more designed for the boudoir than the gladiatorial arena.

“Am I expected to wear fireproof negligées out there?” she wondered. Even the more delicate materials were kind of stiff. “Is the fight intended to be some kind of porno shoot?”

“I think wearing layers is the point, Tina,” he told her. “And the adding of belting to ensure none of the burning liquid gets in underneath where you are particularly sensitive.

In addition to all the other risks, that was definitely something she did not want to happen.

Finally, all geared up in her alum coated clothes and armor, Tina began to wonder if she was going to be able to dodge anything, given the weight and awkward stiffness of the entire outfit. No, she did not want to get barbecued, so she was willing to put up with some limits if it meant she would at worse get a little singed, but unless she found a way to improve her agility, she’d get hit again and again.

And then there was the heat. And she hoped the headband she tied over her eyebrows would be able to absorb all the sweat she was going to be bathed in. Blinded by stinging eyes wasn’t going to get her to the podium either.

And then there was the ball she was finally given.

“Careful,” Devon’s suggested as he handed it to her. “It’s hot. There is likely already a fire burning in there.”

“How does that make the least bit of sense?” she asked.

“It’s entertaining for the crowds,” he offered.

He handed it over to her with what looked like baking mittens. Tina raised her eyebrows but put them on anyways. That was going to be another problem, gripping a heavy ball with stiff kitchen grabbers.

The ball itself felt odd in her hands. It wasn’t remotely like any regulation dodgeballs she’d ever handled of either type. The fabric had some grip of its own, but the balance was strange, feeling like it had a liquid core which moved around as shifted it in her hand. It was going to fly pretty weird then, Tina decided, knuckleball at the very least. A floater. How was she going to avoid throwing muffins almost all the time?

But that’s exactly what happened when, out on the arena floor, facing a row of immobile targets she threw it. The big ball spun around in a wobbly arc towards the stand of straw men a distance across the area floor to what looked like twenty meters from her. Tina had aimed for the middle of the row. She managed to hit one on the far right as the ball, halfway there, suddenly banked towards the left and then sharply curved right.

And then it exploded on impact, fire erupting and splashing all over.

The straw men certainly all started burning, so use of Greek Fire did confirm that close did work in a horseshoes and hand grenades way, as her uncle in the DND used to say.