"So what have you been doing Lahar?" The accent was terrible and the pronunciation none to better, but it was Vaanic and it did something to lift Lahar's spirit out of the melancholic mood he been after the ill-fated meeting with Artus.
Holding back laughter from the poor attempt that Antonius had made at speaking Vaanic, he replied."Just some training with Gaius and meeting my 'patron'," His mood became more serious, "It did not go very well, for showing I was not just a dog who barks and bites at the beck and call of his master, I angered the senator who had asked me to speak and was ushered away quickly after that.
On my return I saw the chaos you had spoke about, flames roared from inside the city and so the screams of the people living there.
They call us savages, but I have not once seen the chaos that I saw today dwell within any of the tribes I visited with during my pilgrimage." He was falling back into the mood he was in before, so he decided not to dwell to much on the subject, "Anyway, it is best that we see how the others are, from your story, most of the others did not fare as well as you."
After the short conversation, Lahar headed back into the ludus with Antonius following him, stopping by the medicus to see how the others were doing.
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While the others gladiators recovered, Lahar spent the week training. Helping Gaius with his technique when wielding duel swords, while he picked up the basic quickly, his speed was still an issue. Lumbering about when Lahar would dance around his sluggish swipes and slashes. Lahar thought that his strength and brute force style might match better to either the battle axe Gaius was used to wielding (even thought he spent the week staying as far away from it as possible) or a large shield with a spear, prodding and poking the enemy, tiring them down until the fatal blow had to be struck or they surrendered, while staying behind a wall of defence.
When not helping Gaius, he spent his time training with Antonius, who seemed to fight with renewed vigour after being sent to die at the Cauldron and coming back not just alive, but as the new champion of that arena. He learned about fighting against others who wielded a multitude of weapons, from sword ans shield to axes and spears. Each combination he learned to parry and fight against, noting their weaknesses and strengths encase he had was brought up to against those who wielded them in the arena.
The few moments of spare time he had he spent meditating, he had decided that once he had got his blades back, he would try and get Typhon's weapon as well. It was only right that his weapon should be put to rest now that he had fallen.
He had been told about where he would be fighting next; it would be in the arena called the Blood Grounds.
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Lahar had been pushed onto the sands of the new arena, for this fight he had been told to wear the clothes that Artus had given him-the black coat, trousers and shoes, but he didn't know what the importance was, the coat would get in the way and the shoes, loose as there were, would only fetter his movement. However this time he had not been given any weapons and all he had for protection were some strips of leather covering thighs and a pair of vambraces tucked beneath his coat.
"Now, introducing the champion of House Balus!" Roared the games master. "The tamer of the sands, bane of the north! Bringer of pain, master of tears!" The crowd went wild and the monster of a man that Lahar would have to face was revealed. "Slayer of Vaan! His enemies know him as Memnarch Baal! You and I call him.... The will! Of! Death!"
So this is what it meant to cross Balus, this was why Lyria had admonished him for how he he had spoke to the 'esteemed' senator. Unlike him, this gladiator was well armoured and well equipped, almost covered from head to toe in strangely crafted armour, there were weaknesses in the design, his left side was left exposed and so was his head. The glint of black steel caught Lahar's eye, he wasn't just any War Walkers weapon, he was using the twin blades Lahar had crafted, the ones with hocks at their tips.
Rage bubbled inside him, it was an insult for another to use a War Walker's blades, he quickly calmed himself and thought on how he might win this battle, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him, he wasn't just going to let himself be killed by Balus' ogre.
He took of the coat, the length of material that trailed behind him could be grabbed and used against him. He took of the boots to give himself the extra mobility he would need. It would've been better if he had a weapon, but he would make do.
It had been a while since he was forced to fight with his fists.
He did the last thing that people would've expected and charged at the brute, he would slide once the brute tried to slash at him with his blades, tripping him over.
The bigger they are the harder they fall.
