Belkin lost his grip on the monster's arm, being bashed a little against the bars in his resistance. As Belkin cursed himself for allowing the Vaan to die, he all of a sudden felt a splash of something akin to water on himself. He looked up to see Lahar brandishing a dagger as "Death's" blood spilled out from his cut neck as he swayed around. When he dropped dead, the roar was deafening, and while was delighted to have Lahar still alive, the voice in his head reminded him: He had cheated to allow another to win. He knew what the penalty for that would be in his home...but for now, he recognised it as one law that would need breaking.
When it came to the next battle, Belkin was called forward to recreate the battle during the riot with his fellow gladiators from the event. He quickly picked up a sword and shield, noting how he couldn't really re-perform the Death run again, not without some ability to practice recreating it. Instead he would just keep to himself and just fight as any warrior would, not caring the least about trying to impress Vokrash, whose armour selection was now the least of his concerns. On the other side were people dressed up as the rebels from the riot, possibly Prisoners or criminals dressed as them for authenticity.
Belkin had to suppress a laugh when he heard the announcer talk about loyalty. 'Loyalty?' Belkin thought to himself, 'The Empire has less knowledge about loyalty than a bear does about grooming!'. But then, after it had all finished, the arena lit up in flames, a maze of fire dancing about the Gladiators and their opponents. Belkin noted just how high the flames were, about waist high at best.
"Well then, shall we make it authentic and hold our shields up while they charge us, or shall we go on the offensive?" Belkin said to the group, talking to no-one in particular.
Rowan armed himself appropriately, trying to match the weapons and armor he'd used the day of the riot as closely as possible. The crowd was there to see a story unfold, and he would be sure to let them have everything they wanted. He grinned for the first time in a long time at his comrades in arms as they made their way out to the arena to face their foes. Were it not for the animal masks covering their faces, Rowan would have sworn each man before him looked terrified to their very core. They were in the same position as Lahar only a few moments ago: sent out not to fight, but to die. They may have been better armed then the Vaan, but the chains they carried would be a deadly burden. Perhaps one I can exploit to draw out the fight, give the crowd a real laugh, Rowan thought to himself.
After their brief introduction, the arena around them lit up in a blaze, bright enough to sting at Rowan's eyes, though he did not waiver. The stage was set at last, and all that was left to do was dance for the crowd. A bloody, deadly dance but a dance all the same. Rowan uttered a quick prayer to Morgul and looked at each of his fellow gladiators to gauge what they were thinking.
"We can't start the fight yet, where is the imperial baby?" Rowan called to the gladiators, not quite loud enough for the crowd or the politicians to hear over the roaring and cracking of the fire. Belkin asked if they should raise their shields and wait for an attack, or press on aggressively. Rowan thought about it for a moment and shouted back his answer
"I don't think it would be fair to keep Morgul waiting!" He called, bringing the shield he'd equipped himself with down to protect himself from the flames as he charged out after their chained opponents.
Gaius examined the area, trying to find a good route to the rebels without getting burnt. Replace the fire with trees and it's similar to when I fought the Empire in the forests, he thought to himself. He had just found a decent route were the flames didn't jump as high, enough for him to clear with enough speed and a high enough jump. However before he had time to react Rowan charged forwards. What happened to his sudden growth? Now he was just acting like a child again. Gaius shouted after him "Rowan wait! Dammit" Gaius ran in a zigzag across the flame covered battlefield, true to his route but much faster than he wanted. He wanted to take it slow but Rowan was ruining his plans. "Surround them!" He yelled back to his comrades. So far the hardest part of this fight was crossing the fire, though that would surely change once they reached the rebels.
Antonius smiled, Lahar had slit the giant's throat. He released Lahar and stumbled back, blood spewing from his wound. He quickly hid the bloody dagger near one of the unconscious gladiators. Gaius grabbed his shoulder and Antonius looked up, surprised. Gaius let go and walked back to the wall, Antonius was left by himself wondering what it had meant. Had it been a sign of respect?
He then heard they were supposed to fight next. Antonius was happy that he was allowed to pick his own weapons this time. He put on a medium sized leather armor, it was perfect for Antonius since it didn't slow him down but did offer some protection. He also grabbed a sword, and a large shield. He would have preferred to take a spear too, but he didn't want to risk over encumbering himself. He walked into the arena and looked at his comrades, the fires were lit. Antonius grinned, this would be an interesting fight.
"We can't start the fight yet, where is the imperial baby?" Antonius gave Rowan a cold look. He can call me a baby all he wants, at the end of the day I am still stronger than him. Belkin asked what tactics they should use but Rowan just charged ahead. Antonius heard Gaius shouting "Surround them!" Antonius nodded and also charged at the enemy, he would prove himself in this fight.
"I don't think it would be fair to keep Morgul waiting!" shouted Rowan as he charged seemingly THROUGH the flames. Belkin was stunned by Rowan's sudden recklessness; did he forget to control his temperament, or did he really consider himself strong enough to take them on?! Whatever the case, Gaius's call of "Surround them!" was hear clearly by the Pingla, as he started going through the route to the other side of his team-mates, hoping to help cordon the "Rebels" off and if possible from their attack plan, flank them and decimate them from there.
Belkin cautiously rushed through the maze, hoping to not get caught off by any dead ends or the like. Either way, Belkin knew that this would be much simpler than what happened in the riots. There were no firebombs, no narrow alleys and they weren't stuck in an epicentre of chaos, it was just a simple maze where the walls could set you on fire and you can see your enemies ahead. Belkin continued along, willing to get there in time to help out.
Gaius ran across the battlefield, carefully and swiftly jumping over the flames. He could feel the heat coursing through his legs, almost getting burnt every time. He charged forwards, leaping over the fire as it rose up waist high, it would have been chest high for any other man but given his monstrous height Gaius was safe. He hit the ground running, however his left foot had landed in the oil and the bottom of his boot had been caught ablaze. He was about to put it out but one of the rebels was already charging towards him. Thinking fast Gaius kicked the man in the chest with his flaming boot, he kept his foot on him as he fell to the ground and stomped on his chest before stabbing his sword into his face, destroying the mask among other things. With no time to pat out the fire Gaius kept running, spear in one hand and sword in the other. One particularly large rebel decided he would be the one to put out the flame of the charging Asiren. This man was almost the same size as Gaius, however a vile wound coursing up his side, from his armpit all the way down to his hip, gave away his weakness as well as the most likely reason he was captured. The scar was badly treated and had hardly healed over.
He attacked Gaius with a large overhead swing. Gaius blocked with his own sword and kicked the man in the side. He flinch and pulled back his sword, stabbing at Gaius, the Asiren jumped back easily avoiding the clumsy swing. The fight would have been easier if it wasn't for the fire on his boot. Every time he moved it seemed to calm down slightly but when he was still it would raise up towards his leg threatening to burn the man. The man swung his buckler at Gaius's stomach. The gladiator spun out of the way and quickly elbowed the man in his wound. He took the opportunity to slash at the rebel's back but he was just quick enough to deflect the attack. Gaius began stabbing low with his spear and slashing high with the sword. The rebel was forced to walk further and further back towards the flames. Sick of the Asier's games he charged forwards and tried to ram Gaius down. Gaius put his arms under the other man's and held his ground. The rebel tried to stab Gaius in the back but his sword was too big to kill him from this angle. The gladiator remembered his dagger, quickly dropping his spear to the ground to pull the knife from under his armour, neatly tucked away in his slave garments. He knelt down and stabbed the man in the foot making him wretch in pain. With no time to wasted Gaius swung his sword at the rebel's arm, cutting his forearm. Even with his strength, cutting through bone with a sword is a hard feat. Still it was all he needed as the man's sword was dropped. Gaius grabbed the dropped sword and stuck it into the man's side, reopening the wound before plunging his own sword into his stomach. He pushed him back against the flames before swiftly picking up his spear. Gaius jumped up to meet the man eye to eye and kicked him in the face with his flaming boot sending the rebel back into the flames. The crown roared at this display, seeing the rebel 'scum' burn before them. However, Gaius could not let the man suffer more than was necessary. He plunged his spear deep into the man's heart to end his suffering before turning towards the other's in the arena and quickly taking some time to pat out the fire on his foot.
Rowan emerged from the flames barely touched, having kept his shield up to absorb the fire's heat. His shield on the other hand, had turned from a dark, sturdy wooden brown to a bright flash of orange and red. Flames licked and wisped across the face of the shield, and from the stands Rowan imagined it might look as though he was carrying the sun itself across his arm. deciding it would be better showmanship to keep the blazing shield, Rowan turned his attentions to where he'd ended up. A wider area than the mazes entrance, though not by much. In front of him were two of the captured "rebels", each of whom looked ready to chop his head clean off his shoulders. One of them was short and lanky, with bruises and other marks covering his body. The other one was considerably more fearsome, with long brown hair tied into a ponytail, bulging muscles, and a bulls face mask covering his own. Rowan decided it might be a better idea to deal with the shorter opponent first, the one wearing a dogs mask.
"Belkin! Gaius! There are two of them here, don't come this way, it's a dead end!" Rowan shouted through the flames in an attempt to warn his fellow gladiators of the perils of the maze before digging his feet into the dirt and preparing for the fight. His shield arm felt warm, though not unbearably so. He would be able to use the theatrics to his advantage, perhaps causing his foes to fight more cautiously and make more mistakes. Rowan flashed the shield in front of their faces, causing the flames to spit outwards in a dazzling sort of dance. The wind carried wisps of the strange fire out before snuffing them with a slight crackling sound. Slightly deterred, his foes took a moment to collect themselves and gather their nerves before charging at Rowan from opposite sides.
Both of his opponents were armed only with short swords, so defending against their onslaught would be easy enough. He used his sword to parry and block the attacks that came from the smaller man, and his shield to block the attacks that came from the bull. Rowan spun and sidestepped all across the field, careful to avoid the flames. When he was confident that he'd gained a foothold as well as an idea of how his foes would react, Rowan went on the offensive. The Dog attacked him with a high, arching slash, to which Rowan replied with a carefully placed block and a headbutt to compliment it. His forehead collided with the wooden dog mask, sending splinters into the flames around them. The dog stumbled backwards, dazed and unable to aid the Bull in his confusion. Rowan swung his shield out at the Bull's throat, blinding him with the blazing fire still whirling about. The Bull tried to counter with a lunging stab, but Rowan was too quick. Rowan spun and parried the attack with his sword hand, grabbing at the Bull's long ponytail with his shield hand. As he spun, Rowan stuck a foot out to trip the confused Bull, sending him off balance. The Bull would have fallen face first into a wall of fire if Rowan hadn't gripped firmly onto his ponytail. Rowan wrapped his hand around the Bull's hair a few times,getting a good grip and pulling the bull slightly further from the flames. In his current position, Rowan was facing the Dog with only his sword hand free, and behind him his grip on the Bull's tail was teh only thing keeping the rebel alive.
"You should be honored." He said to them both over the sounds of fighting and crackling of fire.
"I'm almost certain they're going to make a song about this later."
His joke had sent the Dog into a frenzy, and the lanky man charged back at Rowan with determination in his eyes. Rowan smiled and brought his sword down on the Bull's ponytail, slicing a great deal of hair off the man's soon to be burned corpse. Screams filled the air as Rowan, both hands now free, reengaged the Dog in combat. A swipe of his flaming shield kept the Dog at bay as he cut and slashed with his sword. The screams and moans of his former companion combined with the dazzling effect of the flaming shield greatly unnerved the Dog, and his fighting suffered as a result. Rowan was able to find openings much easier. He landed blow after blow, cutting into the Dogs flesh as if it were a canvas. Rowan brought his shield back to deal the final blow, smacking the man had across the face, sending yet more splinters out into the flames. At long last his shield gave out, bursting in a beautiful display as the Dog's head whirled about and his neck snapped under the strain. The Dog whirled in the air for a moment before dropping to Rowan's feet with a terrible thud.
Belkin swerved his way through the flames, noting two dead ends in his way towards the battle. By now both groups had dispersed and were fighting within the flames, so Belkin hurried along to try and catch up. His progress was halted by a huge man suddenly blasting his way through the flames in front of Belkin, Belkin stopping just in time miss the charge. The man stood up, wielding a sword in each hand and wearing a head unfamiliar to him, spouting a cows face that had large upturned horns at the top. He was clearly either worked up or crazy from the sounds of it, his muffled voice screaming as he charged towards the Pingla warrior.
Belkin dodged out of the way of the charge, his back licked by the flames. The masked man fell over but quickly got up again before moving towards Belkin at a slower pace than before. Belkin hoped that the man's crazed charging would prove to be his downfall, but for now he focused on the actual fighting. The man swung both swords will wild desire instead of actual thought, as each blow was glanced by Belkin's shield, only being pushed back little by little. Belkin saw that he was getting tired after just a few seconds of this, so he took that time to move. He bashed the attacker with his shield, stunning him long enough for him to grab hold of his leg and pull it forward, causing the masked man to crash into the ground. Belkin raised his sword to strike him down, but the man quickly rolled to the side, unwittingly into the tar and fire.
With his body covered in burning tar, the masked man quickly swiped around in blind panic on the ground, rolling over into an opposite area. Belkin started to walk away from the masked man when he heard a second, different kind of yell come from behind him. It was another one of the masked warriors, this time with the mask of something he recognized: a wolf. This one was more reserved than the other man, wielding a club and using more caution. Belkin simply smiled to himself and spoke to him, "Well, you'll be less of a nuisance then that FUDCB (Fuud-cub, one with a rotted brain) now, won't you?" he asked. The wolf responded by simply running towards him with both of his hands gripped on the club.
Belkin raised his shield and absorbed the charged hit, then started blocking each blow, feigning weakness as he got closer to the ground. As the wolf man raised up his club for a very rough hit, Belkin attacked by swinging his sword into the other mans leg, using enough force than it was only after the man toppled over to his right that Belkin realise that he had actually managed to chop through the bone. As the wolf masked man screamed and nursed his wound, Belkin raised his sword above the mans heart. The man tried to resist but he was in too much shock to put up a good fight. Belkin plunged the sword into the mans chest, causing the man to scream loudly as his last drop of life were robbed from him.
Belkin looked at the scene upon him: A man who was nearly de-limbed and now dead, and a crazed person who now fell silent in the flames. Belkin shook his head and walked on, hoping to still help out his team mates.
Description: Tanguy is a young man of 24 years old. He is a broad athletic built man with many scars running across his body with the most noticeable scar running down the left side of his face. This scar was received in combat when a jealous warrior of another clan of the plains challenged him to single combat, he killed the warrior but the scars of the bloody combat still mark his body. Apart from his scars he has shaggy brown hair with dark restless brown eyes.
Tribe/Clan: The Amon'tyr
Bio: Tanguy was born a member a proud clan of the Amon'tyr people of the plains. The eldest of three children his father had died a few months after his sister had been born. So to help his mother and younger siblings he would take his position as bigger brother to his siblings seriously and would be seen either playing with his baby sister or teaching his younger brother how to ride and use the spear.
When the war host was called accepted the wishes of the clans elder and rode off with several of the other chosen warriors to fight the empire. The fighting he was involved in was fierce and he saw many of his friends fall to the legions blades. But as his friends fell his heart hardened to the bloody combat and the young warrior sooner gained a reputation for being a fierce fighter and a good leader of men, as he lead many successful cavalry charges into the empire's legions ranks killing many.
However when he received news that his clan had been attacked by forward units of the legion; he immediately left the war-host and rode at full hast to find his clan. When he came upon the remains of his family and clan he fell to his knees and cried but soon his crys of sorrow became crys of rage and he swore an oath to avenge his family's death be finding their killers and ending them.
However as he rose from his knees and begin to bury the remains of his family and clan he realised that he could not find his little sister's body along with other members of his clan. Taking it as a sign from the god Deagon he quickly buried the remains he could find and quickly rode off to catch up with his sister's captives. He rode for two days and nights and finally came across the camp of his sisters captives. He sneaked into the camp and cut the throats of all the legionaries guarding the camp and saved the captives of the camp and his sister. Leading his rag-tag band he tried to get them to safety of another clan's land but the legion quickly caught up with them. Which forced Tanguy and his band to fight.
They were quickly overran with most being killed or sold into slavery. Tanguy was overpowered as he tried to protect his sister and the both of them were split up and sold. Now Tanguy has been sent to fight in the arena for the entertainment of his new masters.
Skills: Like most Amon'tyr Tanguy is skilled in the use of a spear and short sword, but he is most skilled and prefers the use of a spear and shield. Apart from his combat skills he is also skilled in the art of tracking and is quite good in using the bow.
Name: Therdan Jaeger
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Tribe: The Asieren
Description: 125 lbs, 5"7'. Shorter than the rest of his tribe. Lighter skin, Sea grey eyes and dark brown hair. Preferred weapons are a bow, and, unlike most in his tribe, rather than the customary ax, he chooses a pair of custom made short machetes. Being a skilled huntsman, he has also become crafty with his hands, mastering the art of trap making.
Despite preferring to stay out of close combat, his small frame and and light feet allow him to maneuver around close enemies and striking quickly with his twin machetes.
Unfortunately, spending most of his time in the forest, combined with his youth, had made him a bit on the naive side.
Bio: Growing up, Therdan was always less formidable in stature compared to the rest of his peers. So, instead of practicing up front, physical training, he honed his skills in stealth and agility. By the time he was 18, he was praised as one of his tribes most expert hunters, being skilled in moving silently and gifted with excellent precision.
One day, while hunting a group of elk in the forest several miles away from home, he and several of his hunting partners came across an abandoned wagon in a clearing, marked with imperial signs. His friends warned him to avoid the foreign object, but Therdan's curiosity got the better of him. He approached the wagon and started searching it.
Before he searched half the wagon, Imperial scouts poured out of the trees. Therdan's friends ran to his aid.
Before long, the hunters had dispatched a dozen of the scouts, but a group of imperial cavalry that had been waiting nearby rode to the aid of the scouts. After two of the hunters fell under the blades of the imperials, Therdan's remaining friends cut their throats, as per tradition of their tribe. Therdan drew a machete and put it to his throat. However, he hesitated, allowing the Imperials to disarm him and knock him unconscious.
When he awoke, he was bound and gagged in the back of an Imperial wagon; A prize of the Imperial captain that had led the ambush.
And they were making way straight to the Capital.
Ever since that day, Therdan has lived in regret, knowing his curiosity cost his friends their lives.
Skills: As with most of his tribe, Therdan is incredibly adept with a bow. In addition to his marksman skills, he is also fairly skilled with short bladed weapons. He has mastered the art of stealth and can move unseen many places. His clever nature and skill as a woodsman allows him to make various traps and tools, as well as some skill with herbal remedies and poison treatments(though he never payed much attention to the craft).
Name: Xarev Kar'yoth
Gender: Male
Description: Body: Xarev is 26 years old with the same tan skin as the other warriors that spend their time in the desert sun. He is 6'1 with green eyes and long raven hair that he keeps in a braid reaching the bottom of his shoulder-blades, but sometimes hanging over his shoulder in front. Xarev is not bulky but he is positively frightening with highly toned, slim muscle like an Olympic long distance runner, making his arms and legs look like bundles of steel cables. He has hard intimidating facial features, with a solid brow, a strong jaw, and fierce eyes. His purple war paint is quite elaborate. It runs along his limbs in several unbroken lines with many jagged shapes and sharp patterns to signify his deadly efficiency in battle, and these patterns group and mix together on the front and back of his torso. On his face however, the shoes the lines make become less sharp, instead curving around his eyes and up over his chin and nose, showing his intellect.
Tribe/Clan: Vaan War Walker
Bio: Xarev was raised entirely by the War Walkers. His father was bitten by a poisonous desert snake while Xarev was still in the womb, and his mother died giving birth to him. He had no direction in life, so the village elders gave him to the War Walkers, that he might turn his tragedy into strength. They could not have been more right. With nothing else to distract him and no one to look up to but the hardened men of blood and sand, his entire life became devoted to being a legendary desert warrior, forsaking the idea of courtship or fatherhood in favor of battle and service.
He out-shined his fellow trainees both physically and mentally, grasping advanced fighting techniques far ahead of his age and showing a great aptitude for in-battle tactics. He was made a full-fledged Walker at age 15. That was also the year two other important things happened. He forged his personal weapon: A bastard sword with two differently shaped sides that make one deadly weapon (Just pretend it's black). And second, he realized why he never gave a second thought to the girls his age that fawned over his prowess. He was falling for one of his fellow War Walkers; a young man named T'sova. T'sova was interested in him as well and the two began a lightly flirtatious relationship as they traveled together for thier first few months as Walkers. The people they met in their duties weren't always okay with "that kind of relationship" so they kept it secret, but their teenage hormones made it difficult for them to live with their celibacy vows. This, combine with Xarev's fear of persecution made him question the way he was expected to live as a Walker, but it never shook his sense of duty to his people. T'sova was killed after a few months by the Empire's legion in their first clash with Xarev's clan. After that, Xarev decided to hide what he felt, pretending not to be gay so that it wouldn't distract him in the war that was to come.
He led many successful raids against the legion, killing a great many men and saving a great many lives. He became infamous among the legion as "Xarev the Desert Hawk". Until 2 months ago, Xarev and a small band of allied War Walkers like himself had been leading a local militia in keeping the legion out of a strategically important oasis town. But the legion got the devious idea of contaminating the oasis with disease, a plan which killed many children and elderly, and disable most of the warriors. They rushed in after 3 weeks and managed to kill or capture all resistance with their superior numbers. The 6 War Walkers that had been leading the militia were all weakened by the water and taken alive to be made an example of. Xarev was among them. The soldiers that captured the infamous "Desert Hawk" were given a handsome reward. But ironically, thier reward money was dwarfed by the price Xarev was bought for.
Skills: He has extensive training in armed combat as well as unarmed combat. He is also very familiar with human anatomy and how to utilize that knowledge in battle. Finally, life in the desert has made him extremely resilient to pain, hunger, and thirst.
The fight went on and the sands were well fed by the end of the day. Even after they were done there were still countless more matches throughout the day. The people who's homes were burned in the riots were entertained and the people who had done the burning had learned humility in the face of The Empire. It was a good day for house Marrick and the other Ludus households, but not without its price. Across all of Ptolemy, a legion of gladiators bled and died for the love of the people and the glory of the sword.
High above the sands, the masters of the arenas watched. Each one silently calculating the cost of replacing their losses. Evan Marrick had lost some of his own branded men. Soon after came the calm season and the primary legions returned to their home land, bringing with them prisoners of war by the cart load. People who would be broken and crafted into house slaves, miners, field workers, bed servants or what ever else their owners had in mind. But those lucky enough would be claimed by the Ludus lords and Executors. Most would live short, grim lives but each day brought them closer to a chance at freedom.
And like carrion birds after a battle, the ludus owners flocked to the slave markets. The bidding was fierce and more than a few hired thugs were set on rival bidders, with brawls breaking out in the streets. And at the back, separate from the teeming masses stood the Marrick. Obscured from sight and the out of his competitors reach, Marrick pulled the strings as his men worked their way through the crowd, bidding and fighting on his orders. In the end the market dispersed and Marrick got his way yet again.
At The Ludus
The branded men were let out into the Ludus courtyard where they could lounge in the midday sun as they watched the raw recruits led in, dressed in nothing but chains and rags. Just as they had been on their first day, but that was a lifetime ago.
Marrick had set up his table and scales, just as he had before. A Ludus is built on routine and Marrick was always one for his theatrics.
The veterans mutter and talk among themselves while Marrick scans the new men with ice cold eyes. This was his first chance to examine them up close. An invisible signal was given and The Executor cracked his whip, bringing obedient silence to the courtyard. Marrick cleared his throat.
"I am Varlen Marrick, your new master. You are here because you are now slaves, because at some point in your lives you have fallen, because you have each proved too weak to stand on your own. But do not worry, for I shall make you strong! Re-forging you out of blood and steel!" A roar erupted from the gladiators who knew their part in this show and the executor cracked his whip.
Then the show began in earnest. The coin pouches were opened and each man's worth was measured out for all to see. He worked his way down the line until he came to a young Amon rider. Tanguy If he remembered right. "One Amon'Tyr. Your kind are becoming a rare sight in these walls. Your final cost, 25 Denars." The coins were arranged and with an audible clink, placed on the scales for Tanguy to see.
Now it was Therdan's turn. "Yet another Asieren! I'll be up to my ears in you manic woodsmen soon. Luckily you were only 14 Denars." Marrick took a moment to look at Therdan and compare him to his other Asier. "Perhaps I could have bartered them down further." Looking at them this one must have been the runt of his litter. But Marrick had seen enough of the arena to know that the little ones could surprise you.
"And last but not least. A replacement War Walker, finally! our roster has been lacking spice as of late. What would you say Executor?"
"I am told purple is the in colour among the ladies this season. Sir!" The bulldog like man barked like an obedient solider. It got a few laughs from the gladiators assembled there before he cut them off with a crack of his whip.
"Excellent!" Marrick grinned wolfishly. "Something to add variety to the lisitngs and to keep poor Lahar company, I'm sure he's been horribly lonely since we buried his countryman. With nothing but the likes of Antonius and Rowan for company I'm sure a lesser Vaan would have gone mad by now." More laughs from the veterans. Xarev... this one's name was Xarev. Lahar was getting pale and sleek but this one was broad and bronzed. He could play that off for the more, niche audiences. "All this and only for 36 Denars! Well done lad." The coins were weighed again. His worth was added to the rest of the coins that payed for the other new gladiators. Their net worth was a hefty sum, more than the last bunch.
He motioned to the scales. "This is your collected worth. This is what your fellow man thinks of you. Given time I shall make them change their minds. I shall make them sing your names with glory, as titans of the arena!" The gladiators cheered to this. "But we shall get to that later, now you must regain your strength." Marrick snapped his fingers and turned to the manor house he didn't leave the courtyard this time, he had had a chair and drinks brought out so he could watch what would follow up close. A Pack of slaves tidied up the table and scales and scurried off into the manor.
One by one the new slaves are unchained and the gladiators move off to an alcove built into the eastern wall of the courtyard where two young slaves are serving porridge and water from huge pots.
"Eat! Drink! Rest!" Barked the executor. Each word punctuated by the crack of his whip. "Your training will begin in a few hours!"
The fight was done. All rebels dead, and none of his team mates. Gaius surveyed the sands. All men fought admirably, with Vorgis proving why he was champion but Belkin and Rowan giving a mighty impressive show. Gaius would have been worried about the competition- if he wasn't so disgusted by the sight. His fellow contenders for championship downright tortured their opponents, killing them slowly. Belkin de-limbing one man, Rowan burning another to death. Gaius wouldn't dare show his disgust, it might displease his sick masters or even Vokrash who he needed to impress. Still, he had lost a lot of respect for both men, while he couldn't see Antonius or Vokrash through the flames Gaius was sure that he was the only man who killed cleanly on the sands that day.
Some time passed and new recruits were eventually brought onto the sands. An Amon'Tyr, another Vann and yet another Asier. But this Asier seemed familiar. Perhaps Gaius had seen him before but his smaller frame certainly distinguished him amongst their kind. Therdan his name was. His size was mocked by Marrick as he put on his degrading show. Gaius barked along with the other gladiators, he didn't want to anger anyone else, he already had Dran hating him. He wasn't much threatening just petty.
Eventually Marrick was done with his theatrics and allowed the gladiators, old and new, to eat and drink. Gaius moved off to where the porridge and water was being served, hoping there wouldn't be as much drama as when he was recruited. He made sure to keep an eye on this Therdan lad.
The battle ended soon after, Belkin not worse for ware and a little disappointed that they didn't put up more of a fight. They seemed to be less like warriors and more like cattle being slaughtered. He remembered the howl the wolf man gave when Belkin nearly went through his leg, the visceral screams given by the mad man who charged at him. Belkin still remembered his home, so it would be long before these Empire pigs would break him through the gore and pain they used to try and denature the young warrior, but it was slowly working regardless, bit by bit. For now however, he wore his facade as he left the pit, hoping that Zuul cleansed him of what was clearly forced murder.
Some time later, Belkin looked upon the new recruits that entered the Ludus with contempt and wonder; they were new blood, bought by the pig Marrick to bolster his number and fatten his wallet. He used the same methods as before, the same speech as before and he was as annoyingly smug as before. Belkin must have looked like any other loyal soldier to the new blood, but much like Gaius, he was as determined to break free from his captors. Belkin stayed silent through the Gladiators barking moments, still the only man silently showing that he wouldn't be tamed.
When the farce was over, Belkin went with the rest of them into the area where food and water was prepared. He remembered the last time this feast happened, with Rowan's boasting, Gaius's initial unmerryment and an overall impression of tension left on the Pingla. Belkin sat down and consumed the porridge quickly, keen to overhear what the Gladiators had to say now.
For the most part, Vokrash took a backseat to the fight. He needed to make sure he was able to get a good look at Rowan, Belkin, and Gaius fight. Vokrash would not leave the fight without bloodying his axes however, decapitating one of the masked men in one fell swoop after ducking and weaving wild blows from his cleaver.
Vokrash and the others had only gotten back to the ludus when he saw a crowd gathering and was able to force himself near the front. He saw that new recruits were being brought out for the scales and Marrick would have his show again. 'The same script every time, it's been like this for years now.' He noticed that another Asier was captured; along with an Amon'Tyr and another War Walker. Vokrash was once again giving the cheers when called for, as he did for when the Gaius and the others came, and before that for many years. It was the same show every time.
After the measuring was done and the scales were taken away, the new recruits were sent to get food and drink. Vokrash was thirsty after the day's ordeal and decided to go get some water. On his way he stopped and congratulated Vorgis on "a damn good showing. Teaching them kids what's what".
Tanguy looked down at his bloodied wrists; most of the new and old gladiators were making their way towards the alcove to get a meager breakfast. However Tanguy continued to stand in the sand and look down at his wrists. The wounds that the rough iron chains left behind, reminded him of his failure to protect his sister and clan mates from the imperial legions, and so this new life seemed a fitting payment for his mistakes. He would have killed himself for this reason however his sister had been split up from him and sold to someone else. However Tanguy made a promise to her that he would find her and so he allowed himself to go through all this so he could just get a chance to rescue his little sister from her cruel fate.
Raising his head, Tanguy looked as his ?new master?. He wasn't a warrior of any sort, just a small fat man with a lot of money and connections. But this small man may be able to help him find his sister, he would raise this question with Merrick in the future. But for know Tanguy walked off from the sand to sit under the shad.
Xarev was silent. He scanned the men around him with cold yet smoldering eyes, from the wealthy emperial man who had purchased him, to the formidable gladiators around him. He hadn't spoken in days. Not since his capture had a word escaped his lips. When he was finally unchained, he walked to were the water was and took a cup. Then he sat down alone in the sun and closed his eyes. He began to think.
It was far to early to attempt any kind of escape. He did not know the strength of the guards, the way of the town, or the roads back to his home. He would have to bide his time. He would lay the part of the gladiator, but he would never become a plaything of the Empire, not in his heart.
The gladiators wondered why this new stranger elected to wait silently and alone on the ground, as if he was expecting something. It was certainly an odd first impression. One or two entertained the notion of trying to get a word out of him.
Antonius had been pretty cautious during the fight. He had been in contact with fire before, and he didn't want to add another burn scar to his body. He was happy to see that none of his fellow gladiators had fallen. Quite some time passed after that, but time in the Ludus meant nothing. The moon meant rest, if you were lucky. And the sun meant work, until your flesh fell from your bones.
Lahar had been behaving quite weird for a while now. Antonius gave him as much space as he needed, and because of that he spent quite some time alone. It was then that he realized just how alone he was. Antonius began training with all kinds of different weapons, anything from axes to knives. The arena that he was a champion off, usually had all kinds of different weapons. So he had decided to learn how to use them all, he also began training in hand to hand combat. Because even without a weapon, he had always been a forced to be reckoned with. But now he was even stronger then before.
He also began to notice the slow color change of his skin. It was clear that he spend his days working hard, and that he didn't wear much clothing while doing so. Antonius only had one goal in mind though, and with that was survival. He needed to see his son, and his beautiful wife. He had promised her that he would see her again one day, he could never break that oath.
When the new gladiators entered the arena, he was watching and judging them from a distance. He was saddened about the lack of an imperial gladiator though, he would have liked another one of his kind. Still having someone like that would only distract him from his goal. Antonius was standing against one of the walls looking at them, exposing his body and its numerous scars. He was one of the 2 champions now. Even if the other champion was much stronger then him, he would have to show they what it meant to be one.
Still no man could fight effectively if he was dehydrated. Antonius went to get some water, and after that sat down at the table. He began eating, and listening on others talk. He wondered what the new gladiators were like, still none of them seemed to be a match for him. They looked strong, but not quite up to his level. Which was a big relief.
Like Xarev, Therdan remained silent, glaring at Marrick as he sat down. After a moment, he rubbed his raw wrists and began to look around the alcove. He internally regretted his hesitation that led to his capture. He looked around for anything that could be used to deprive the slave master of a warrior, and end his own life. Seeing nothing, he turned his attention to the other captives, still not saying a word.
The new ones were being quiet... too quiet. The Executor watched them with restless eyes. Were they just tired from the trip or was there something more to it? He never cared for these quiet moments. Crafting a gladiator was a delicate art, one which most of these men were not suited to. He could have named at least ten that would have been better suited to the mines. The more they were left to themselves the more time they had to think, to dream. A tired body made for a tired mind. But this would be the making of them, the beginning of their trials.It was important to make sure they were in as good a condition as possible. More and more the Executor thought he was getting too old for all this.
He looked to his master. Marrick was in his own world, his eyes had gone cold and distant. That was the one that worried him, the young lord was a reacher. It made him hard to predict. The sun beat down on them and the tried and tested among their brood busied themselves among themselves. What was time off to them but a death sentence? He thought to himself.
Finally Marrick returned to the present and motioned for things to begin.
*****
Durro was sent to fetch the wooden practice swords. The child scurried among the gladiators with ease as they were ordered to form up in the courtyard. Durro handed each man a blade. Happily handing out a weapon to those he knew and cautiously to those he didn't.
Marrick rose from his chair. "We have a certain tradition here at the ludus. As each man begins his training for the day, the new recruits are given the chance to try their luck against those who have proven themselves. Here in House Marrick we are honored to have not one but two champions among our ranks." He held up a pair of medals. One shone glorious gold in the sun. The other was chipped and rusted.
"Vorgis!" The Executor cracked his whip and the gladiator stepped forward. He was a giant of a man. muscled like a bull with close cropped hair. His body decorated with tiny scars and a large, tattered looking one on his forehead.
"Vorgis holds both the title of 'House Champion', meaning he is the best that this Ludus has to offer and he holds the champion title in The Den of Hearts. The greatest and most prestigious arena in all of The Empire."
"Antonius!" The Executor said on queue; and the Imperial stepped forward.
"And on the other hand we have Antonius. Champion of The Cauldron and king of the dogs. Home to the lowest and cruelest blood letters this world has to offer." Marrick looked over his new men, placing odds on which ones would step forward. "Those who are willing to step forward and face one of our champions in single combat, should they put on a good show, will be rewarded. To the others, you will have to find a sparring partner yourself."
By now Durro had made his way around the yard and seen each man armed with a practice weapon.
"So... who here is brave enough to step up to the challenge?"
?I challenge?this could be interesting? Tanguy muttered as Merrick offered his challenge to the new recruits. The fight was obviously one sided, having a new recruit fight an experienced champion was more than likely cooked up to see which of them would die first. On any normal occasion Tanguy would refuse to take part in this show but Merrick had promised that knows who put on a good show will be rewarded, if Tanguy could manage this the maybe Merrick could help him find his sister. It was a long shot but Tanguy didn't know when another situation like this might present itself.
?I will accept this challenge? Tanguy spoke stepping forward so all could see him ?Tell me who I will fight??
The ludus owner's suggestion inspired a new line of thought in Xarev. Perhaps he could spare his body from the gleeful cruelty of the Empire if he applied his mind. He would show his intellect, to disguise his power, maybe affording him an opportunity to get close to Marrick.
"I would meet the challenge...master." Xarev said without standing. "But something yet bothers me. The new arrivals, myself included, are weary from travel. A man of your elevated position must be smart enough to see this. So I can't help but think you are expecting one of us to fight and lose, to be made an example of. I beg a thousand apologies if I am mistaken master."
Xarev knew that one of three things would happen next. Either, his intellect would be noted by Marrick and it may benefit him in the future. He would be forced to fight one of the champions simply for speaking. Or worst of all, he will have offended Marrick in some way and face punishment.
All things considered, there are worse outcomes for one's first day as an Imperial slave.
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