"ARMS MASTER, I'VE COME TO INSPECT THE LATEST BATCH OF WARRIORS!" A heavily accented voice boomed as Gunnar arrived on the scene of the training grounds. Much to Gunnar's surprise -and disappointment-, there did not appear to be much going on in the form of training. "Arms master, why are there no slaves taking part in training in preparation for the glorious heat of battle? I had hoped to measure their stock, if it would be fine with you that is." He grunted as he walked up to the arms master and looked down at him. Though Gunnar would never admit it, he occasionally loathed his massive size due to it forcing him to constantly look down. Even the arms master, who was a large and imposing man in his own right, barely came up to Gunnar's collar bone. Rather than speaking in the crass and informal manner that he used with his fellow gladiators and guards, the barbarian's tone was reserved and polite. Gunnar knew well that the combat prowess the arms master held was more than a match for his own and that he was one of the few men capable of outright killing him in combat, securing him amongst the ranks of the very few that Gunnar regarded as his superiors.