Raucous Liharan walked through halls hallow to him, ivory cape billowing with each quickened step, gazing upon innumerable statues of fighters old and new, gladiators and adventurers alike. It was a collection unlike any other in the world, and it was for his eyes only.

He moved with ease through the twisting passages. He hummed, he beamed, he laughed. Today was a day long dreamt of, and finally come to fruition.

Liharan slammed open a final set of doors, stopping before a large gathering. All chatter ceased. Liharan may as well have been a shining beacon at that moment, all eyes drawn to him. He smiled.

"The Arena of Ages was unveiled, brought before the eyes of tens of adventurers. Not all of them stayed, more's the pity, but retention is something we shall work on in the future. For today is the birthmark of a grand new tradition, one I told you would arrive, one I swore would bear promising fruit."

"And thus do I close the book on this chapter. You said it could not be done, that it was not worth the effort. The beasts were too unreliable, the whims of the adventurers and their protective pockets not to be trusted. Say that again now."

There was naught but silence, aside from the eventual laughter bubbling out of the great satyr man.

"Now we plan for the future. Now we become the world's greatest entertainment. You have your roles. Get to them."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: The Arena of Ages opened its gates to the public, monsters fought each other, adventurers bet on the outcomes. Gold was gained, gold was lost, and now Raucous Liharan looks toward the future.

Penned by My hand on the 3rd of Scarlatan, in the year 696 AF.