The atmosphere inside the cavernous space was jovial, with the air of a reunion of old friends rather than a serious tournament. Light guessed the competitors were the ones wearing grey hessian robes covered in pockets that overflowed with gardening tools. Loose crowds of people gathered around them, some eating colourful vegetable produce and drinking thick broth from cut-out Namib shells. A ramshackle old hut with an open front appeared to be selling these refreshments and more.

A portly, scruffy Tekeri with some bald patches approached them holding an antiquated holopad.

“Well met. Are you looking to compete or spectate? We still have some spots available; the first round is in twenty minutes.”