Once, the lands were ripe with warriors of renowned skill, all lusting for glory and fortune through their mastery of swordplay. The king, a wise ruler with keen insight on keeping his subjects happy, decided that these fighters should do battle not in dingy back alleys and rat infested warehouses like they were used to, but rather they should be able to showcase their aptitude in an officially sanctioned environment. And so the great Arena was built, and the official Coliseum League was birthed.

The sport soon became massively popular. From thousands of leagues away, from every walk of life, the citizenry of the kingdom came to witness the carnage in the arena and cheer on their favorite gladiators. And as in any organized professional sport, there were those that managed the teams of warriors. In a sport where the loser is carted off to feed the crows being a manager is no easy task. Warriors must be carefully groomed for battle. Training is an always ongoing process, and when training doesn't seem to be providing the edge managers may turn to dark sorceries and alchemy. In the end, all of this may be for naught, as old age is still the ultimate leveler of man.