When the cheers finally died down, Thrax began again. He announced the next few fights with bombastic aplomb, filling the crowd with energy. He was born to be the center of attention.
"And now for the final bout of the preliminaries! I guarantee this one will tittilate, thrill, and amuse! Never will you have seen such a bout!"
Might be overselling a little. Oh well!
"In this corner, dwarfing the competition--no offense to the actual dwarves--and frightening the children... he's powerful, he's tough, he probably has eaten at least one person, ROGAR THE MAULER!!"
When the enormous troll had taken his position, Thrax's voice lowered dramatically.
"And in this corner, we have a fighter who you already know quite well." He slowly stepped towards the corner, a hushed silence falling over the crowd. He wouldn't. Would he? "He's tall, he's rude, he's loud, he's handsome--if you're into that sort of thing--master of storms, master of ceremonies... ME!"
He turned to face Rogar, popping his neck. With a huge grin, he said, "Let's fight."