To the victor go the spoils [Semi-open]
The arena was vast and raucous, its seats not only cramped but exorbitantly expensive for the typical inhabitant of Epicurea, with even the seats set farthest from the staging area easily costing a full day's wages. It was also packed solid.
Huge holographic screens were projected high into the air above the arena itself, depicting each match (especially the end) with gruesome, crystal-clear detail. Not a drop of blood was spared, not a millimeter of shattered bone was missed, and everything was on display at multiple angles to allow the spectators the fullest extent of the experience.
The observer's box that they were now approaching was as ostentatious as they'd come to expect from their host, luxuriously decorated with fine cloth curtains, plush carpeting, absurdly cushioned seats, and a delicately carved, intricate railing that appeared to be made out of some no doubt ludicrously expensive precious metal. It was a stark contrast to the simple stone benches the other observers were afforded. And of course, their host's pterosaur was once again present at the top of the box: a tethered, living reminder of its owner's exalted status.
As Anwei and Howard were ushered onto the balcony and seated, workers were already busy scrubbing the stage clean of the loser of the last match -- or what was left of him, which by now was only a blue-black smear on the ground. They had arrived just in time for the short intermission before the next match would start.
All viewers, place your bets.
Huge holographic screens were projected high into the air above the arena itself, depicting each match (especially the end) with gruesome, crystal-clear detail. Not a drop of blood was spared, not a millimeter of shattered bone was missed, and everything was on display at multiple angles to allow the spectators the fullest extent of the experience.
The observer's box that they were now approaching was as ostentatious as they'd come to expect from their host, luxuriously decorated with fine cloth curtains, plush carpeting, absurdly cushioned seats, and a delicately carved, intricate railing that appeared to be made out of some no doubt ludicrously expensive precious metal. It was a stark contrast to the simple stone benches the other observers were afforded. And of course, their host's pterosaur was once again present at the top of the box: a tethered, living reminder of its owner's exalted status.
As Anwei and Howard were ushered onto the balcony and seated, workers were already busy scrubbing the stage clean of the loser of the last match -- or what was left of him, which by now was only a blue-black smear on the ground. They had arrived just in time for the short intermission before the next match would start.
All viewers, place your bets.