The Master idly wondered what was fueling that virulent hatred for the Sisterhood in question, since the Baron didn't seem to find the restrictions his civilization had placed on technology too chafing. Groups calling themselves 'Sisterhoods' tended to be uniformly aggravating in his experience, however, so he didn't bother to pursue it for now.

His Imperium did seem to have compensated nicely for its limitations, at least. The Master watched the scene in the arena with a bit of an inward twinge - something of the decor put him in mind of Gallifrey - but he smiled, chuckling softly. "Is there no escaping gladatorial combat? Even my own people, in the more barbarous points in their history, would make lesser races battle for their amusement."