The setting sun bathed Bonerattle Arena in a crimson glow, the waters shimmering like blood as swarms of painted salmonids cheered wildly, their voices rising as they watched their kin slaughter one another in brutal combat. Most of them having black-and-white warpaint smeared on them in the depiction of a salmonid skull, the signature symbolism of the Obsidian Gladiators, a tribe of salmonids infamous for their bloodlust and love of war.
Perched in the maw of the great salmonid bust, a Goldie screeched into the microphone as the battle raged on, their voice cracking through the arena's echoing speakers. Behind them loomed a towering Cohozuna, but not any ordinary one. This was the Obsidian King, Zalavus, Emperor of the Ring of Carnage, the Lord of Bonerattle Arena.
Zalavus watched his gladiator pit with great interest, his blackened scales gleaming as he leaned forward to watch the massacre below him. A deep growl rumbling from his chest, a low sound of amusement that made his attendants shiver. His concentration broke suddenly at the sudden wet squelch behind him.
?: Sire! I come bringing an urgent request!
Zalavus: CAN'T YOU SEE I'M BUSY HERE?!
?: A-AH!
The stammering Stinger shrank under his master's glare, his words coming out quietly as he watches Zalavus turn toward him, the crown of salmon bones of his previous patriarch atop his head glinting ominously in the fading light.
Zalavus: What is it, Shrike?! OUT WITH IT, NOW!
Shrike: The Sovereign... C-Cadavere, he requests council... with a-all the rulers!
Shrike watched as Zalavus frowned, baring his sharp teeth with a deep growl. The Goldie announcer, as if sensing the violent storm brewing within their ruler, scrambled off the deck without a word. Zalavus roared in frustration, shoving Shrike aside as he slid toward his chambers, Shrike scurrying behind to follow.
Zalavus: Of all the bloody times... he calls for this nonsense NOW?!
Shrike: I-it is v-very sudden, your majesty... might I send word you won't be-
Zalavus: I AM GOING! And you, messenger, are coming with me!
Shrike: Y-yes my lord...!
Zalavus: Be silent, I don't want to hear a single peep from you!
Shrike: U-understood...!
Shrike's fins quivered as he trailed beside Zalavus, his movements jittery with unease. Together, they left Bonerattle Arena to make way for the isle under the ringed cloud, its peaks shrouded in a thick, oppressive smog. The Obsidian King seethed with irritation, loathing the idea of facing the other rulers- especially now, when his patience was already worn thin.