Arena

A passageway carved into the cliff face overlooking Lake Rathetear leads into the glorious gladiatorial compound known simply as the Arena. Little is known about this mysterious area before the times of the Combine Empire upon Norrath, the documents and history surrounding this unrivaled arena having disappeared sometime during the height of the Empire's reign.

Many, namely the ogres, claim that its mystery goes deeper than mortal hands – that only one being could have constructed such a massive compound dedicated to the art of battle. That being is the great Warlord himself, Rallos Zek.

Most scholars dismiss this as a fanciful tale and strongly believe the Arena to have been constructed by mortal hands for mortal purposes, although what exactly those purposes were has been lost for decades. It is not often that entire records of history vanish so suddenly without trace or remnants to suggest purpose or reason.

Thus, scholars believe that the Arena held some importance to the faction that had once built it but somehow, and for reasons unexplained, they abandoned their great structure when the Combine rose to the pinnacle of its hold upon Norrath.

Many have reduced their hypotheses regarding the Arena's mystery to a very simple explanation – that the culture who built this grand structure did not make records that could leave tangible traces throughout the eras. They say that when the mighty Combine was instated, they fled to join the ranks in their continuing search for glory. However, no records or history of such a culture have been found, even after the discovery of the Combine remnants upon Norrath's satellite, Luclin.

Now all that remains to fuel one of Norrath's greatest mysteries is the compound itself, forever drenched in crimson from the countless battles that have been fought upon its ground. The Arena is visited to this day by adventurers and would-be gladiators who hone their skills in oftentimes, although not always, friendly duels and contests of might and strength.

by Morasca Juman

There are many tales about the arena and its champions. This story of a young girl and her champion is a rare work of fiction by historian Morasca Jumman.

The lists were posted outside the arena entrance, keeping the scribes busy as they entered in the names of the different champions and the times of the events in which they would participate.

Bazima studied the lists for several long moments before approaching the scribe and entering her name for one of the games.

"Which champion?" barked the scribe's assistant. "Quickly, quickly! A line forms behind you, child!"

Bazima took a deep breath and said, "I enter my champion, Vara, an avenger."

"Another avenger," smirked the scribe, busily adding her name to a placard. "Move along, then! Next! Which champion?" Bazima entered the arena.