The arena was not grand at all. It was barely an arena. Old, crumbling, seemingly bursting at the seams, the construction had once been great and mighty, but at this very moment it was just a remnant of a time past. Vines had slowly grown along the walls of the building, and were now cozily sleeping in the cracks, formed by the sandstone to accommodate them. This had once been a grand coliseum, visited by hundreds, maybe even thousands, to observe battles with magnitudes far greater than that of the fight which would take place here today.

 The arena was framed by a thin, artificial river, about three feet in width, which made an oval spiral on the inner side of the walls, framing the once perfectly plain, now somewhat uneven floor, upon which battle occurred. Beyond the small river, which was crossed by a pair of bridges, ten feet in width respectively, rose the massive walls of the old coliseum. Even if ancient and rickety, it still instilled a sense of dread within those who entered, those who remained and those who died.

 The field upon which battle took place was different, when compared to what it had been years ago. The once sandy surface had been watered by rains to the point where plants freely grew upon it. Even though it had been changed into a healthy environment for nature to regrow, it was still somewhat controlled. Most of the field was barren of any biological lifeforms, safe for short grass. The only exception was a tall, mighty oak which had grown into the easternmost wall, cracking it even more, obstructing the field of battle with a few roots, bleaching underneath the scorching sun.