The final challenge was ready. The arena was prepared. There were plenty of female cleric referees with some orc backup. The point was that no one should die. This was a celebration, and despite having a hardened military, the people of the Sun Kingdom were not inherently violent people. It was more about celebrating the form and talent of people. The ten of the best participants gathered around the edge of the ring at equal starting positions. There were no weapons allowed, but there were dozens of training weapons in the center of dais. It wasn't a clear run to the dais though, there were obstacles and walls to the plinth where the only arms were laid.<br/><br/>There were four women and six men in the final ten. Lots of hopefuls, some of them wearing only tunics, some wearing armor. Much of the challenge seemed evened out by peoples' propensities and equipment when placed against the craftiness of the arena's design. The assembled crowd and champions all turned to the queen's lavish audience box. She would be expected to say something before the final contest, but it would be short and sweet and at the drop of her handkerchief her selected champions-to-be would fight for the glory of not just their queen but their goddess.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The fight was quick and skillful. No one was eager to lose the game. The padded fist hit faces, women were thrown over small walls or kicked for the low blow. The combatants never gave and inch. They all fought over the plinth, or ran to try and use their wits to take down their larger competition. When the referees deemed someone too injured to continue they would have them removed from the arena, sometimes only with the aide of the orcs. Finally only two people stood atop the dais trying to beat one another into submission. Neither gave a single scrap of ground, but both were at there end and the referees called and end to it as the blows might become unavoidably fatal to people in such weakened states.<br/><br/>There were some audible gasps and hisses from the crowd, wondering exactly would happen as no clear winner had risen to the top. But the pair broke free from the orcs who were trying to haul them off stage for one last run at one another. They both collided rather feebly and rolled onto their backs. Everyone looked on as the pair struggled to return to their feet. In the end it was man who just managed to stand up, hands on knees. The woman seemed to acknowledge her loss, if begrudgingly.<br/><br/>The cheer that erupted from the crowd was deafening as the man was taken away to be treated and soothed with tonics and tinctures so that he could be rewarded by the queen herself.<br/>"Well, well, what a spectacle. Looks like you've got a big strapping farm boy of a champion, but perhaps destiny won out today?" Her eyes glowed mischievously with her own magic. It wasn't as if the other heroes of the arena wouldn't find their way into the queen's service in some way.<br/><br/>Morrigan smiled and ate a cherry. "He'll fit the armor well at any rate, my queen. "What would you have us do with your newest champion in the meantime? The banquet for his official recognition will be a while off yet, he seems to have exhausted himself to the limit."<br/>The queens' shrewd talent scouting would pay dividends. Already several hard drinking mercenary women were celebrating the greatest tournament of humankind's history.<br/><br/>"Praise the sun indeed..." Morrigan giggled, listening to the song that was being sung as the city descended into premature revelry. Korsovans knew two things, and they both involved how to have a really good time.