Sand and wind raked across the cloaked face of the traveler. Long had she walked, and long had she seen hardship to find this place, and there it was before her: a mountain.
To the average onlooker it was simply that, a mountain range, and this was just one of many sides of it, but to the traveler it was much more.
Bring out her hands, she began to weave the winds of dark magic, and slowly they answered her summons from the sands.
There were men, orcs, lizardmen, ogres, elves, and even beastmen, and all of them skeletons. Their bodies showed their means of death, an axe here, a sword there, some even with their heads crushed in, but they all stood in silence waiting for the whim of their master.
Letting a faint smile touch her lips (it had been long since she had shown off her power) she merely pointed to a pile of boulders and at once the skeleton horde marched forward to break them down and pull them apart.
The task took months, but in the end they were successful, and the tunnel stretched out before them. The tunnel to the Arena of Death...