[i]The Interdimensional Lucha Libre Alliance's flagship and base of operations was the refitted star carrier known as [/i]The Masked Dreadnaught[i].  A vast ship nearly a kilometer in overall length, [/i]The Masked Dreadnaught[i]'s bow was indeed covered by a massive custom-built mask of golden cloth, shrouding the vessel's face as was only fitting for the great mobile fortress of the Luchalliance.

At this moment, [/i]The Masked Dreadnaught[i] was in orbit over the world of Ferretius III, where a Call to Glorious Action had been called.  The challenge had been issued and accepted.  The fighters were awaiting.  All that was left...was the Ring.  High in orbit, [/i]The Masked Dreadnaught's[i] refitted bombardment systems began to cycle.  No city-shattering kinetic impactors were loaded into the mighty cannons, though.  Oh, no.  [/i]The Masked Dreadnaught[i] had a much more [/i]glorious[i] purpose for the weapon.

A single launch, perfectly guided by the ship's cutting-edge targeting systems.  A single projectile fired at a single point – the open, sweeping plains of Fifth Barcelonia, a rolling savannah of golden grasses and sunset-colored trees, dotted with wildflowers of all shapes and colors.  A beautiful place  to go to war.

A beautiful place to fall.

Descending from the sky in a cloud of smoke and flame, the Ring slammed home in the vast expanse of  flatlands – a fifty-foot spike of battle steel, etched with the masksignias of generations of Luchalliance champions, girded 'round its midsection with a massive, armored replica of the Belt of Kings, capped at its uppermost end with a plain white fitted mask.  Plunging deep into the ground, the Ring fetched up against the surface, its Belt shining in the sun even through the massive debris cloud of its landing.  Anchored in place, side panels opened in the massive double-ended spike, deploying drones, revealing equipment.  Massive floodlights speared the sky with illumination, while nimble hoverdrones maneuvered smaller replicas of the central Ring out into a hundred square meter section of Fifth Barcelonian grassland.  The Posts were slammed home, and beams of energy began to arc between them, three rows high, creating a massive plasma-fenced fighting ground under the aegis of the Ring.

And above the ring, towering hundreds of feet above the plains, surrounded by the lances of light cast by the Ring's spotlights, the projected image of the ancient spokesman of the Luchalliance held his mighty blue hands up in triumph and roared.

“REJOICE, PEOPLE OF FERRETIUS III, FOR YOUR WORLD HAS BEEN CHOSEN AS THE SACRED BATTLEGROUND OF THIS MOST [/i]GLOOOORIOUS[i] OF CONTESTS!  THE MIGHTIEST WARRIORS OF THE LUCHALLIANCE LAY CLAIM TO THIS WORLD'S HEROES, IN THE NAME OF HONORABLE AND  [/i]GLOOOOOOOOOORIOUS[i] COOOMBAAAT!  ASSEMBLE, OH YE MIGHTY MEN OF FERRETIUS III!  ASSEMBLE AND TEST YOUR POWER AGAINST THE LEGENDARY MASKED CHAMPIONS!  QUENCH YOUR THIRST FOR THE DIVINE CONFLICT, THE SUPREME STRUGGLE, THE [/i]ULTIMATE CONTEST OF STRENGTH AND SKILL![i]”

“LET THE GAMES [/i]BEEEGIIIIIIIIN!”