The Great Dessaron Arena was one of the most spectacular but also ancient buildings on the neutral world of Portalia. Located in the ancient Ksithan city of Palaestra, the Arena had always been the main place to solve disputes not just between the Ksithans, but between other races as well. The Arena had become so popular that not only had it stopped many a war, but it was now also the main source of entertainment for the majority of the races within the Phoviverse.
Over the centuries, the Arena had passed down from council to council, however, five hundred years ago, it ended up in the hands of a mysterious Ksithan known as the Raptor. Instead of letting what she deemed ‘random Ksithan groups’ have control of the place, she instead created a council of her own, with twelve individuals, one member from every main Phoviverse race. However, placement on this council was never permanent, and most members were swapped out every five to ten years. Anyone qualified could find themselves on the council, from former gladiators to custodial and cleaning staff.
Today, a meeting was being held during a rather popular arena battle. Below, fighting in the coarse sand, a heavily armoured Rethavok was wrestling a colossal Banikan. While the size difference was considerable, the Rethavok was somehow holding their own and, amazingly, somehow winning, edging the Banikan towards the edge of the small tower they were battling on. All around them, the crowd were going wild, despite most of them not being either Rethavok or Banikans.
“The crowd seems enthralled today.”
“Indeed. Everyone loves a match with the Lightbearer. Retvik knows how to put on a show.”
“Actually, I think he is just doing his best not to lose his win streak. Who thought this match was a good idea anyway?”
“It has been a popular request for months. So we finally went ahead and did it.”
“Oh. Seems a little unfair.”
“I’m sure-”
Outside, an almighty roar erupted from the crowd. The Banikan challenger had been thrown from the tower, giving the Rethavok a resounding victory. Utterly exhausted, the winner collapsed in a heap, then slowly climbed back to their feet, waving awkwardly at the crowd.
“Oh ye of little faith…” the Raptor smiled beneath her hood, sitting down at the end of a long table. “There is a reason why the Lightbearer has such a long win streak. The current battle aside, I wanted to talk to you all in order to prepare for this winter season. With multiple winter celebrations coming up, we need to make sure the Arena is ready to go. I have had a look at our schedule, and while it does look… full, I have noticed a few gaps.”
“How so, milady?”
“We still do not have any Spast participants, despite them being our largest audience. And we are low on Skyavok entrants as well. The Happy Cold can only do so much on their own. We also have some gaps in our Dessaron Team Battles, is it possible to get a couple of extra teams prepared?”
“I can sort something out, but they’ll do badly against the four established teams we already have.”
“Even if we get the Lightbearer into a team?”
“The Lightbearer has said they’ll never do a team battle.”
“And Spasts still refuse to actually fight. They don’t like getting their hands dirty.”
“Hmph. Well, we’ll have to just try and bring some home-based warriors together into a couple of teams. We’ll also need to up our covered seating, as we potentially have storms in the next two weeks. The emergency exits also need expanding. The repairs to the D and C exits should have been done last month.”
“We’ll get that sorted out, milady.”
“Good.”
Outside, the crowd had settled back down. The arena was in the middle of being transformed, from a small tower into a rather jungle-like appearance, with rather low visibility. The lights had been dimmed, and, on a platform above the arena, eight canisters were being prepared with contestants, ready to partake in what was known as a “Thursday Twelfth” battle, where normal beings fought against a super-powered monster representing the Arena itself, complete with extra fake blood. The prize was eighty kilos of pure gold, but it had been unclaimed for at least five years.
“There are also… further arrangements to be made…” the Raptor lowered her voice.
“What sort of arrangements?”
“My advisors believe that the Gods Above may be… visiting the Arena at some point. They are known to come down during the winter months, and have done so in prior years. So I want the Gold Suite opened up, cleaned up and ready to go, in case they do appear.”
“With staff on hand?”
“Yes. Greeting staff, food and drink staff, fresh food and drink at the ready. If they don’t show up, then whatever’s left, hand it out to the house fighters or something.”
“Are we preparing for just the Whenvern and the Panelix, possibly the Allbirther? Or will we see the… Thantophor as well?”
“Prepare for everyone.”
“Yes, milady.”
“Alright, thank you. You may all leave now.”
The twelve members of the council did as they were told and exited the room. The Raptor made her way to the glass panel, to watch the fight below.