Even as the sun was beginning to rise, it was clear that it was going to be a hot day. The sky was a brilliant purple, as the sphere of the sun, driven by the god's chariots of fire, peeked it's tip above the horizon. The Mansion built around the Ludus allowed an incredible view. To the East, the Ludus was walled high, maybe up to 30 feet high, with sharp spikes at the top. To the north was open ground and the road leading away from the Ludus onto the main road, which either led to the north of Maro, or to the metropolis itself. To the west was the villa, elegantly and yet simply built, easily maintained with a small number of servants and yet beautiful enough to entertain guests of higher breeding.

But the true beauty of the place came from what was to the East. There was no wall there, merely a sharp cut, like the gods had seen the mountain and cut it in half. The drop was sharp, and more than a hundred feet down, too smooth to scale down, and the rock too hard to allow any tools to be used upon it. The view, looking down over the city was breathtaking, especially in the evening when the sun set over it with shades of fiery red and orange.

This was the view that Canis now enjoyed, with the sun hidden to his back behind the roof, and the view of the shadows slowly creeping away from the city. The hustle and bustle of the place was deafening, even at this hour, but from here it looked like the city still slept. Canis was seated at a table where the servants had laid out a meal for him. He was a simple man of simple tastes, had been since he had been in his Legion. Dark bread and yellow cheese, not too strong or biting, with some cold and spiced chicken wings and fruits along with an assortment of pastries. His only vice was the wine, which was old and rich, speaking of warm sun and rain, skilled hands and a good oak barrel that aged it over 20 years. It was dry, as wine should be, and heady, touched with a bit of honey to keep it from upsetting the stomach in the early morning. The Lanista sat and ate in silence.

His head flickered around at the silent footfalls of someone approaching him from behind. He smiled as he saw the hulking frame of his second in Command, the Doctore Heimdal as he moved in closer.

"Damn," The Northman cursed playfully," It is impossible to sneak up on you. You have the ears of a hare."

Canis laughed and shook his head, offering the man a plate," No my friend, I am all but deaf. It is because your steps cause a veritable earthquake when they strike the ground."

Heimdal's eyes narrowed," I aught to crush you, little man," He growled.

"You would trip on your entrails before you could take a thunderous step, you blundering idiot," Canis laughed, and was joined my the giant, who took a sip of the honeyed wine, coughing a bit.

"How can you drink this sewage?"

"It's an acquired taste," Canis conceded with a chuckle," You can ask for some ale or a juice from the servants," At the mention, a young woman stepped forward.

"Ehew, it is too early for ale, I think. Some of that delicious fruit juice, if you please," She bowed lightly and left the room silently. The huge man's feature, flat and hard, scowled," Feels odd to be ordering slaves around. It wasn't too long ago when we were in their shoes, obeying every whim and order from their masters, no matter how cruel and depraved. Now we are the masters."

Canis nodded, as he had felt the same way as he had bought the slaves from the previous owner of the ludus, and again as he had bought his gladiators from the slave market. He still remembered them. The ones that had been broken he hadn't given a second thought towards. No matter the amount of skill that they possessed, they lacked the strength of mind that it took to face a man in the arena, with thousands upon thousands of stranger chanting for their blood. He had picked out the strong, but also the hearty, healthy both in body and mind, the ones that looked a him and the other bidders with gazes filled with hatred. Far from feeling the humiliation and pressure of their situation, they still clung to their humanity and would fight to keep it.

He had no doubts for all but a few. The young woman that the slaver had practically begged him to take off his hands. The lean young man that had the looks of a Grecian to him, and one or two others. But as much as he trusted his own eye for gladiators, he trusted Heimdal's more. He had lost many a Denar to the giant on bets of who would do well in the Arenas. The man would read people as some men could read tracks and that, among many other qualities, made him indispensable as a Doctore.

"You have the first Ludus with more than one Doctore, Canis," Heimdal grunted, drawing the older man from his thoughts," And among the first to have a female one too. You take risks, like any gladiator should. But the die is cask, and cannot be taken back. All you can do is play with number that the gods have seen fit to give you."

Canis chuckled," I know," He turned and looked at the man in the eye," You are a free man now, my friend. It means that you can lay in bed for longer than you could have as a slave. Why do you not?"

The giant chuckled," Old habits die hard," He looked down on the sand of their training area where the other Doctores had gathered for their morning meal. There was silence among them, but Canis could see the furtive glances that the men were casting towards the women. The respect was there, as they had all seen each other in action the day before as the prepared for their recruits, but they were still men, and the women were beautiful. He chuckled as the thought came to him that they were trying to be subtle as they watched the women, but as he could see it from this distance, he was sure that the women could see it too.

A sharp sound a bugle sounded outside the gates and they all stood as a guard moved over to open the gates. five armed men moved inside with 12 men and 8 women in tow, all of varying sizes, colors and shapes. Canis moved down to the training area along with Heimdal and saw to the official transfer of slaves as their chains were removed, and lined up as the Doctores sized them up, whispering among themselves.

Miserow stood among the other 19 and looked around. He didn't know the names of those he was with and Miserow didn't care to know because at some point he would have to kill one or all them to stay alive. His father killed himself when Miserow was but a child because he felt that he was cursed and if he killed himself then the curse would die with him and Miserow would be free. Miserow made a note to himself that when he saw his father in the next life he would tell him that the curse didn't die with him. For once again Miserow found himself at the mercy of whatever whim fate felt like giving him.

There was to be some sort of honor and fame with being a Gladiator, but at this moment Miserow would've been content being back at the estate he was at. There Miserow was respected among the others he knew where he stood among them, and basically he ran the place and in some cases his opinion carried more weight than that of the estate manager. Here he was at the bottom of the barrel once again having to work his way up, but this time if he didn't get to the top it wouldn't be a loss of status or respect he would have to deal with but a loss of his life. This wasn't exactly sitting well with him either. On the outside he was the picture of strength and poise, but on the inside he was wondering once again how long it would be before he was able to just enjoy living in peace.

Miserow looked over at the guards and his mind was already beginning to form a possible escape plan. However one thing stopped him and that was the fact that these guards weren't the typical back-alley or guards holding down a job for show. He studied their weapons and how they stood at a parade rest. These men were disciplined and focused Miserow might be able to take one or two, but the others would quickly grant him his wish for a conversation with his father.

Miserow said to one of the others standing next to him. "It appears that the decision is close at hand. I heard a friend once say 'may you live interesting times' I feel that thing are about to get interesting for us."

The morning had started long before the sun had peeked over the edge of the earth, Ivanna up and working herself to be more than prepared for the day. She needed to keep her edge as training day always seemed to be the most difficult for the new recruits. The women would be rather fragile in spirit and the men would forget very quickly that she and her fellow female Doctore were warriors by nature and lacked patience or understanding of any sort for their uncaged desires. It would prove to be a long day and she shook her head at the very idea of how much her old friend, Heimdal, would enjoy watching her threaten the lives of more than one unruly young male on the first day.

A quick breakfast of fruit and water and she was out in the darkness of dawn, her body barely clad in enough cloth to cover the parts she'd rather keep private. She refused to allow hindrance to her activities, her body needing to be free and capable at making adjustments at the drop of a feather. The surrounding structure in Ludus allowed for training to take place and yet they were capable of keeping the newly captured slaves on the grounds without concern. Only one opening on the eastern wall had fault in it and for that she was grateful. The climb was steep and yet her grappling hooks, one in each hand, allowed her to scale the wall and slip over, the descent one only for those that covet death and yet once a week she would test her strength, her agility and her fear to see if she could break her time in climbing down the steep rock and back up before the sun would break into the sky.

That morning she'd almost lost her grip, her balance beam walk with death causing her to feel more alive than anything else might. She finished her workout and changed quickly into the clothes that Canis requested of them, moving to the arena areas and moving in beside Heimdal as the gates opened. She looked toward them and found herself quite pleased with the size and rather offensive scowls that played upon their faces. The morning should prove to be quite adventuresome as it always was. She looked to Canis and lifted her head a little. "What new and ingenious way do you have in splitting them up to work with us?"

His homeland was still at the very forefront of his thoughts. He missed it dearly, he missed his people, he missed the land, he missed the women and he especially missed plunging his sword into the Centurum invaders. He had personally killed many of the invading soldiers and had seen many more killed at the hands of his brothers and sisters in arms, but that didn't change the horrific fact that he had seen more of his own people fall to the Empire than in any act of warfare he recalled in history. The bastards would simply not stop coming. Every man they killed seem to be replaced by three more. As hard as they had fought and as much as he had believed in their cause it was clear now that defeat had been inevitable. Upon reaching Maro and being sold he discovered that his peoples fate was not a rare one. There were warriors from every corner of the globe, most being taken from their lands as prisoners of war and being sold off somewhere down the line. He didn't yet understand why the warriors were valued though, in his land they killed the opposing warriors following defeat; they did not make good slaves, most being too strong willed or too proud.

For that reason Cynbel could not understand why for as long as he had been in Maro he stood among only warriors, each and every one of them being advertised for sale. It was a strange thing indeed. Then came the man whom was to buy him. He had the look of a warrior himself, although aged and likely retired from battle. Cynbel didn't hold the man in high regard, presently he held no man in high regard, not in these lands anyway. There was one half decent thing about being purchased however, the fact that they would need to travel to the buyers premises. Cynbel had spent too long standing around doing nothing, a little bit of a walk was something he had grown to desire, almost pitifully. The walk in itself wasn't all that bad, outside of the actual city Maro wasn't too horrible a place, although the landscape was too dry and open. Too open to make escape feasible. Instead Cynbel simply tried to enjoy the walk and take in the land, maybe it would be of use later on.

Eventually they seemed to be approaching their destination; a large villa built right on the edge of a cliff. Even Cynbel could not deny the allure of the place, but to say he wanted to spend the rest of his life there as a slave was far from the truth. He would not in this life or the next, the thought sprang his hatred up a notch. They were soon escorted through the gates of the villa where they were made to line up in what was seemingly the courtyard. Amazingly there was no wall facing the cliff in the courtyard, this immediately made Cynbel wonder whether anyone had ever been thrown off of it. With the way the Empire treated people he thought it probable. The man who had purchased him was now present, along with another man and woman. Cynbel anticipated being told why he was there, he did not like lacking knowledge.

At long last, Tane decided that he was not overly fond of the mainland. He didn't mind being in different surrounding in the least, indeed he'd led many boat raids against other islands just to see what the landscape was like, but this place was both just different enough to unnerve him with its strangeness and not different enough that he could be constantly marvelling at it. He'd seen beaches, but he had plenty of those back at home. The forest was different, but they'd moved through it too fast for him to take in how different. The bark of the trees was paler, and the canopy thinned as they went to the north, the trees getting shorter, the undergrowth thinner. He would have liked to actually walk in the forest, but they had stuck to the great roads the Sentyurums had made. He'd gotten bored of the road after a few days. One can only wonder at such a spectacular piece of earthwork for so long, although he'd certainly decided that when he got back home, he'd have to build some. Plenty of stone on the islands, especially on Raute Nui.

Horses, he thought, were still fairly interesting. So unlike anything he'd ever seen before! Feet and skin like the island pigs that rooted for mushrooms in the forest but legs and neck like some kind of strange moa. And you could ride them! The children sometimes sat on the backs of the pigs that foraged around the town, and and his friend Aurapa had once tried to ride a moa and as such sat legless in a bowl as a storyteller and teacher. He'd heard tales that the little men of the forest rode on the backs of staugoda - what did the centurion call them? Little Elephants? - but such a beast that men could ride into battle, bring messages across vast distances in no time at all and use to pull carts was amazing to him.
Dogs had intrigued him as well. They had dogs back home, singing dogs that acted as sentries and howled melodiously at the moon and spirit dogs that watched the children and made for a good meal at feast days. But the vicious hounds owned by the Sentyurums were more like one of the mekoasi crocodiles that ran through the forest in the sunlight or even the great varau lizards than any mutt he had known.

One of the men near him - by north and south, they made people so small here, even the women of his island were taller - spoke, knocking him out of reflection
"It appears that the decision is close at hand. I heard a friend once say 'may you live interesting times' I feel that thing are about to get interesting for us."

Tane gave gave a slight chuckle of agreement.
"This has interesting for long time, friend! I have seen lot, all new to me, yes? This land is strange to me, so dry and cold!"

He understood Sentyurum a lot better than he spoke it. Tane let loose a deep, rolling belly laugh before continuing.
"I am Tane of Anoa, little one. What is your calling?"

He briefly regretted how the chains prevented him from greeting the man properly. Hopefully it would not lead to too much poor fortune.

Fiery as it was, her own glare could not better that of the sun’s as it crested the hills in the horizon. Squinting at the violent rays, her hands twitched to move, rustling the chains that bound each wrist to the shackles at her feet. She sought out the shade of the broader man in front, and as well as painfully chafing her ankles, the veering movement tripped the one behind her, triggering a sudden collision. Nairi misread it as hostility and pulled hard against the other in protest, culminating in a back-and-forth shove. A guard pulled up next to them and quelled the dispute with a warning glance, one that lingered on the Eastern woman longer than it did on the other. It bore the same ferocity as the last few times he’d been forced to reprimand her, and she returned it in its entirety until he looked away, a small smile following after him. It went without saying that she expected to be punished later and was taking as many jabs at her captors until then.

One of the prominent facts of life was that her body belonged to another, made for purposes that would satisfy the wishes of whoever bought her name, and it would never serve her will. This basic principle of slavery was, of course, never accepted. Yet even though the constant teachings, berating and beatings failed to instil her being with submissive obedience, she felt atypically uneasy the first time she met her latest buyer. As the column of flesh and chains neared the summit, that feeling returned in earnest, and with a curious edge to it. Nestled atop the spire of verdant forest and jagged-toothed cliffs, was a magnificent villa. Swinging wide, the gates let them in, and the interior out. Immediately, she fixed a hateful glare on the guards that sorted their lines into a single row, imbuing every movement with a jostle or rough step.

If she was impressed by the make of their escort, then she was completely awestruck by those who came forth to inspect them. Each figure represented a different archetype of the warrior, standing strong in both stature and mana, with an air that carried a palpable energy in every step they took towards and amongst them. She steeled herself whenever one came close, deepening her scowl and meeting their inquisitive gazes with a defiant stare. In them was something she struggled to identify, being so new to her own understanding, and different to any person she has ever met. Later, she would learn the name of it: Pride. The men were giants, who moved the earth as they did their chiselled vessels, and the women were beautiful yet fearsome. A slow look around the enclosure they were now in yielded little else that could aide her enlightenment. Frowning still, she found herself actually caring about her current situation. It dawned on her that there may be a valid reason why her broker expressed such unprecedented glee the moment she left.

Canis turned to the young woman as she spoken. Heimdal had been insistent that she join their team of trainers, and Canis had seen why. A fearless woman, hard and well disciplined with a sense of adventure. He wondered how she would do as a trainer, though, if she had the patience and will to bend these untrained individuals to her will. He had little doubt that she had a couple tricks up her sleeve, and he was anxious to see them in action," Nothing new and ingenious, Luminia," He said, using the nickname that the people in the Arenas had given her," Each man has a build that is best used for a different kind of gladiatorial type and I'll make a rough guess passing them onto you to see if I am right. I think I will have two-thirds correct."

"I'll take you up on that," Heimdal grumbled as he moved in between the two," We'll discuss the odds later."

Canis nodded, noting that a couple of the slaves had struck up a silent conversation. He chuckled and moving over to a nearby table, he picked up a bullwhip, neatly tied and handed it to the giant," I think it's about time you introduce these bunch of maggots to their new place at the bottom of the food chain."

Heimdal nodded, taking the whip," I think you're right," Unfurling the whip, he saw that it was over ten feet long, neatly made too. He pulls his huge arm back, snapping it forward and back again. The crack was thunderous, catching the attention of everyone in the courtyard, including the two talkative men," Shut up you worms. From now on, you only talk if I ram my hand up your arses and use you as puppets, am I fucking clear?" His voice was deep and his tone murderous. All the gladiators had to be put through the paces.

"From now on, you belong to this house. Try to escape, and you will be hung over the cliff by your wrists until the crows peck your eyes out," Canis tilted his head, chuckling. Now there was an idea that he hadn't heard yet," You have been given a chance, maggots," Heimdal continued, this time in a tamer voice as he paced back and forth in front of them. Only one of the Gladiators was larger than him, but lacked the... physical intimidation that Heimdal had perfected over the years," A chance to rise above your station. A chance to rise above any station, and be seen as gods by the common mortals. But for now, you are nothing. Less than ants and roaches in the dust, awaiting a large foot to end your miserable lives. To change this, you will need to abandon all thoughts of your previous lives. You will see death as a lover. Caress it, stroke it, fuck it," Darma chuckled lightly at that last one, rubbing his hands together," We will teach you how to survive, how to kill. Do that, honor this Ludus, and find yourselves richly rewarded with wine, coin, cunt... or cock," He indicated towards the women among the recruits," Glory, fame, and, if you live long enough, yes, even freedom. If your aspiration is any of these, attend to your Dominus. If not, ignore him at your peril, and be sent to the mines where you will die without seeing the sun, in the dark, filthy and smelling ratholes."

He turned back to Canis, nodding," How was that?"

Canis smiled," I think Marte himself would have shat his leggings," He moved forward, cracking his knuckles, moving across the trainees, looking Cynbel in the eye, his powerful gaze bearing down on the man," You have the look of a warrior. You have killed many men, yes? You think yourself a fighter of worth. Let me tell you this, your first lesson. You are nothing. What you have learned before you have stepped into this Ludus is nothing. Your trainers were shit-eating goatfuckers. The faster you realize that you know nothing about fighting, the quicker you will learn what we have to teach you, am I clear, Celt?" He spat the word out with disgust. He turned the giant," And you? Crushed many skulls? You will find it difficult to do with your entrails slipping from your gutted belly, I will tell you that," And moving over to the smaller Grecian, the one over which he had doubts," And you? Small as an ant and ready to be squashed like one. Darma," The Doctore swaggered forward, a sneer of contempt on his face," Please demonstrate my words. Give the lad a gladius. Two if he likes. You fight with a single wooden sword," He turned back to the trainee," If you best him in combat, little man, I will set you free with enough coin to buy yourself a mansion."

---

Lucanus had never thought himself to be a lucky man. True, he was blessed with good looks and skills with the blade, but his brothers had been blessed with women and position and power, charisma and the power to fire men's hearts with passion and glory. He still had mixed feelings. He thought his luck had changed for the better when he was champion in his brother's army, but it changed again when most of their troop had died of hunger. changed for the good again when he was not selected for decimation, and his brother was. And again for the worse when he was sold into slavery. He thought it would remain poor as he watched a few of hid potential owners looked at him with lustful eyes.

But he had been bought by Canis, a gladiator trainer, and he wondered just what kind of luck this was. Lined up among the slaves, he still wasn't sure. The odds tilted to poor when he heard their introductory speech, after hearing a few of his fellow slaves whispering to one another. Canis, their Dominus seemed a tad more reasonable, but still harsh and unforgiving. Lucanus knew how to fight. Who was he to think that he couldn't?

He looked into Canis' eyes as the man spoke to him. He could feel the contempt radiating from the muscled man, and yet, he was offering him a chance at early release if he beat one of their trainers. It appeared, he thought that the gods smiled upon him at last," Two swords, Dominus," He said, showing his poor grasp of the Centurum language.

Canis laughed, and turned to a nearby slave boy, barely 13 years of age, with skin the color of caramel," Two gladiuses for the slave, and a training blade for the Doctore," The boy nodded and rushed over to a chest. Lifting the wooden lid, he pulled out a wooden sword and two steel blades, rushing to the Doctore, handing him the training weapon, and then to Lucanus, gently placing the blades in his hands.

Lucanus smiled. The blades were a bit heavier than what he was used to, but the balance was good, the blades keen. Time to earn my freedom, he thought with a smile, spinning the blades in his hands.

"Begin," Came the Dominus' command.

Bellowing a battle-cry, he jumped towards the Doctore, blades hammering fast and hard. The man parried, blocked and back-pedaled furiously to fend off the vicious attacks. He blocked a right handed swing and ducked under a thrust, making Lucanus think that this fight was going to be over sooner than he anticipated. Then he watched the Doctore spin, hooking his foot under the Grecian's knee and pulling. Under normal circumstances, he would have lifted his leg and continued fighting. But the sand beneath his feet was slippery and unstable, and he found himself falling unceremoniously to the ground.

"This is not the grass fields or stone walls that you fight on, little grasshopper," Canis barked," This is sand! Holy Ground to the gladiator. Lose your footing in the Arenas and see your life forfeit!" Darma's blade smacked across Lucanus' back as the younger man tried to roll away. Lucanus was on his feet again, anger in his eyes, but seeing the confidence in his opponent's eyes, he couldn't help that small seed of doubt in his mind. The mere thought of losing infuriated him and he charged again, hacking and slashing.

"Look at him," Canis growled to Heimdal," Charging like a wild bull. Darma has held the killing blow three times already."

Heimdal nodded," But do you deny that you see skill in the mad waving of his arms? He is merely rough, like an uncut diamond. He needs to be refined a bit, is all."

"More than a bit," Canis mumbled.

At that moment, Lucanus spun around to try and catch his opponent by surprise. His blade met air, and he felt a blinding pain smack his ribs, followed by something hitting the right side of his face, hard. He was stunned, trying to back away but feeling his wrist come under similar assault, forcing him to drop his right sword, then Darma hammered a kick into his midsection, pushing him against the wall and bouncing back, only to meet a very painful swing from the training sword across his face. His body was in agony, and the power of the strike caused him to go into half a flip, landing gracelessly on his stomach, his mouth full of sand and blood. He tried to push himself up but another strike to his back had him settling onto the ground. Better stay there for a bit, he thought, woozy.

"Enough Darma," Canis called," Get him to the Medicus," Darma nodded and picked the smaller man up and half carrying him, half dragged him out. Canis turned to the rest of the recruits, assessing them. If they were smart, they would learn the Grecian's lesson without having to take a beating. If they weren't well, there were plenty more lessons to be delivered before the first Games," Anyone else? My offer stands. If any of you can beat any of my Doctores, you will be free to go, with coin in purse. Anyone?"

Tane snapped his head forwards at the sound of the rope cracking. The man holding it was as tall as some of his fellow warriors, but still shorter than Tane himself - and he looked nothing like any other Sentyurum, his skin paler and his head differently shaped. What did they feed men down here that they grew so small? Did they only eat grains and fruit. Man needs meat to grow!

The man began to speak, with impressive voice. Tane giggled slightly at the threats. They were interesting, but most likely empty. Far simpler to just kill an running man than to have to recapture him, and he had no idea what a 'puppet' was. Wasn't it what they called young dogs? Why would they stick their hand inside a dog? And telling him he was nothing was silly. He was Tane Cacahau Anoaru, the Big Man of Anoa whose Laugh is Thunder, Chief-of-Warriors of his island and a slave owned by the Centurion. But he did like the bit about the rewards. He knew plenty about surviving, and even more about killing, so this shouldn't be too hard.

A second, shorter man came forward. Tane guessed him to be their Chief-of-Warriors, or Centurion, or Dominus, one of those words. His clothing looked more expensive, and he walked with the same stiff confidence that the Centurion had. The other people from the ludus seemed to show him respect as well. The man walked up and down the line of him and his fellow slaves, insulting them, and Tane had to hold back a chuckle when he got to him. He thought it would be more difficult for a man to cut somebody else's guts with his head bashed in, not the other way around, for men with slit bellies can always stumble around for a bit.

The fight interested him. The little slave fought like a mad thing, raining down blow after blow, relying more on speed than anything. At least, in his eye. He had spirit though! The fury of the small man was something to watch, something he should be proud of.
And then, very quickly, it was over. The slave twisted, but his enemy ducked under his blade, smacked him in the ribs, knocked his sword from his hand, kicked him into the wall and then hit him in the face with a terrible thwack, sending him to the ground. The sand was loose and shallow, noted Tane. Not like beach-fighting then, when you could twist your feet into the sand to allow some measure of rooting. The man hit the slave again when he tried to get up.

And then the Dominus made his offer again. Tane considered it for a bit - if he won, he would go free with some money, and could see all he wanted, and if he lost, he'd just have to wait a bit to get the same reward, with added fame. In any case, it might be a good idea just to see what the other Doctores, as they were apparently called, were like. If this was to be his new home, he also felt he should greet it as soon as possible to avoid bad energy and poor fortune.

He nodded to himself, stepped forward, and in his deep bass voice proclaimed the words the Centurion had taught him
"I am Tane Cacahau Anoaru, the Big Man of Anoa who Laugh is Thunder. I am the Chief-of-Warriors of my tribe, and I killed many legionaries with my club and led men on hundreds of raids against my foes. I take your challenge, little chief! Which of you Doctores has man enough to be fighting me?"

The words that were spoken did little to inflict psychological damage to Miserow if at all. He had heard them before in some way shape or form. Whether in a holding cell awaiting trial, on a prison barge, or working on the estate it didn't matter it was all designed to do the same thing. Tear a person down from the inside and break their spirit so defeat was that much easier for those who spoke. Miserow didn't care one way another if he fought and won he gained his freedom and riches, but if he fought and lost then what did he lose...nothing. While there were others there with him who would certainly give Miserow a challenge, and one that Miserow knew better than to anger, he didn't see any of them as a threat. Not to mention if he didn't survive the batter then there was the chance that he would finally have a freedom that could never be taken away from him ever again.

The 6'4" man from Maro thought for another moment and then saw the giant of a man step forward. He accepted the challenge, and then Miserow liked this opportunity better. He heard the giant speak and call himself Tane Cacahau Anoaru he was accepting the challenge. Miserow thought of letting Tane take care of this on his own. Even if Tane didn't win this provided Miserow with the opportunity to study Tane and his methods. Miserow had seen a few battles in his day and to survive when he had to fight what he did was take the various styles and methods of others and meld them into a style that worked for him and enabled him to survive. Maybe Miserow would win or maybe wouldn't but in the end one thing was for certain those with him would know that Miserow was not afraid of combat.

Miserow stepped forward and said, "I am Miserow Pax. I was born here and returned here many years after serving on the Seven Winds as a member of the crew. I am not one to side-step a challenge no matter what the reward maybe. Be it gold or prestige none of those things matter it is the taste of combat that I crave. You can keep your reward if I earn it. I live for two things combat and the opportunity to battle with others who are my equal."

The trip to Ludus was painful and quite daunting, Claudia wondering more than once if it would not have been more prudent to just die with her father and his men and yet she found herself wanting vengeance which fueled her actions and thoughts. Her skin was covered in dirt and mud, a few bruises lined her rib cage from loosing a few hits with other members of her group the day before and having still been recovering from capture, she was a little worn. The dark circles under her eyes spoke of retreat and exhaustion, but the gleam in her gaze showed that she would not hit the ground without a fight. That is however what they expected of her and being from where she was and who's name she carried, the idea of killing in the name of sport was nauseating. Fighting was for freedom and rights, not to please men and women to sick to find joy in the regular occurrences of life. She felt her lip curl up as the large well-developed "trainers" in front of them began to talk amongst themselves, the others in her group speaking a bit to one another, but she had nothing to say.

The only thing she had in common with them was captivity.

Her eyes moved from the people before her to the edge of the training area, the large home of one of them rising up in the background. The area was created to keep slaves in and welcome no one's prying eyes. Escaping was going to be more than tricky and yet she refused to allow any thought of not getting away to enter her mind. She'd heard stories and tales of the great gladiators that won their freedom in the arena's and she would too, if slipping out of the walls and running as far as she could didn't work out first. Claudia looked toward the large man beside her, his body covered in various drawings of sorts. He was much to jovial for the situation at hand in her own opinion. Perhaps his life before this one was worse than slavery? There were things much more devastating than being owned.

A quick pull against her chains threw her from her reverie about where the others might be from or who they lost in their struggle to get here and had her attention focused on the handsome older trainer, his voice strong and full of conviction. The large man beside him caused her stomach to tighten in fear. His abuse was clear and that he enjoyed beating the air only gave her a glimpse at the future of what she might be up against in terms of foe's to conquer and fears to embrace. Claudia flinched at the harshness of his words, her own people never speaking of sex or adoration in such a manner. She would be most pleased by cutting his filthy tongue from his face and forcing him to eat it, but that time would surely come.

Who would hope to be a God only to have the true one strike you down and dismantle your pseudo glory in the fires of hell?

The other male was no better, his look of dignity was quickly embellished by the words from his tongue. Claudia remained locked in her facade of control and dominance and yet uttered not a word, unwilling to play the game before it was pressed against her. She looked to the female trainer and wondered how a beautiful woman would allow herself to be raised into a mindless brute that killed for sport and probably had her share of things best left unsaid. With hands clasped tightly together she watched the scene before her, the Gladiator showing his strength and cunningness with no more than a few subtle movements of his mammoth arms.

It was a farce and a rather sick one, but something inside of her wanted to challenge him, not because she believed his claim that she could be free, but so she could hit him one time and feel the peace of knowing that he was in fact human. Monsters... all of them. As others moved forward she simply stood with her shoulders square and let her eyes move up the hill and over the sharp cliffs to find the warmth of the sun, closing her eyes and letting herself listen to the sounds of their feet as the next "show" began its sequencing.

Canis looked up at the big man, his heart dropping as he saw the determination in his eyes. Not because of any doubt in his Doctores, but because he had hoped that the little man's beating would have been sufficient to prove that they were inferior fighters when matched against hardened gladiators. He also had a sinking feeling that Darma may have been the wrong choice for the task. Cestus gladiators were in short supply for a reason, being that it called for an unholy amount of skill, speed and luck, but also because the lack of weapons that could deal a single killing blow required that they have an even amount of brutality and showmanship, a sadism and taste for combat that Canis himself lacked. For a Cestus needed to literally, beat his opponents to the ground with his bare fists. Darma was such a specimen, and had shown it in his overzealous beating of his recruit. He only hoped that the little Grecian would not be too hurt to train today, as well as hoping that the next lessons were severe, but not as severe.

Canis stepped forward and sized the man up. The man's name, with his accent in the Centurum tongue was hard to understand, but he did understand Tan-ye, or something to that effect. Canis smirked," Your mother should have taught you not to break wind with your mouth. I could give rat's piss over what your laughter does. What you were chief of matters little to me. I was a legionary once, and I can say from experience that they are shits. Your foes were pigfuckers and your people shits as well. You are a big man alright, but I can tell from that belly that you have little experience against men that are faster and more agile than you yourself are. And as such, I think it would be better for you to face such an opponent. Physically weaker, but he will win through speed, agility, cunning and skill, all of which I can you are sadly lacking," He turned to his Doctores, with Darma rejoining them after escorting Lucanus to the Medicus," M'baka, step forward."

The tall man of dark skin stepped forward. His eyes glinted in the rising sun and he was dressed only in loincloth, his training armor set aside," Yes Dominus?" His voice was deep and his presence commanding. It was obvious that he was a man of noble spirit and high birth.

"Teach this Chief of warriors how puny he really is. Select your weapons."

The dark man thought for a second," The trainee shall carry a club and a shield. I shall carry a spear and buckler, Dominus."

Canis nodded, agreeing," Let it be done," The young slave rushed to arm the fighters, and turned to Canis, who had moved over to Miserow. The man was a few inches taller than him, but with slightly less bulk, and the muscles that he did have were undefined and atrophied in comparison. Canis stepped forward, roughly grabbing him by the wrists and raising his hands for inspection," Member of the crew is right," Canis scowled, looking over to Heimdal, who stepped in closer," Look at those scars, that callous. Too unsensitive to carry knife, spear, net.... it is likely that he can't even handle a gladius either," It was a pity, for the man had the making of a Dimachaerus. He would be lucky if the man could master Thraex, if that. For a brief moment Canis considered sending him to the mines, but no, he had bought the man, and if he proved that he had skill in the test, he would remain, even if he lost. If he did not, he would be treading very dangerous ground," Heimdal, you will fight him," Canis growled, shoving the man's hands away in disgust, turning to the slave boy," Give him a Thraex training blade and a shield. I trust your judgement, Heimdal," He turned and made his way back to the line of Doctores.

Heimdal nodded," The same for me then," The slave lad brought both blades and shields to the men, and the giant hammered his blade against his shield," Let's see what you are made of boy."

M'baka fell into a ready stance as well," Your forgiveness, brother," He said in a low voice," But this is for your own good."

Canis sighed and shook his head, placing his hands on his hips," Well... Begin."

Darker scenes from bygone times were playing out before her eyes. She didn’t wonder, she wasn’t moved to care, her eyes simply followed the man knowingly as he walked towards the table. Piled upon its worn surface were tools befitting of an executioner’s pit, and some distance away was a human ox, conversing with his fellows at ease on a stage that bore promises of death. With his strong features that looked as if they were cast from solid bronze, the brute was easily twice as tall and several times wider than the man handing him a familiar piece of equipment.

Nairi’s fists tightened instinctively as he walked the line between them and his kin. The more she watched, the easier it became to anticipate his next move, having seen and experienced similar acts firsthand. But no degree of recollection could truly prepare her for the thunderous snap that arrived inches away from her nose. Her exterior barely registered a change, in spite of the fact that her insides leapt into the space her heart used to occupy. She swallowed hard to settle the throbbing in her throat, leaning forward again into those vacant inches the reaction jerked her out of. She truly despised that weapon.

Self-taught to understand the basic sounds of Western tongues, she knew enough to decipher the brute’s barrage of cussing and threats, although one only needed to feel the booming delivery to know their intent. She stood straighter than what was comfortable, unmoving, every lean muscle held taut as she endured his harrowing address. From it she learned that escape was fraught with danger, the walls reaching high on all sides save one, where the world seemingly ended in a plunging drop. She also discovered that this place - this ‘Ludus’ - offered a third option if the aforementioned or death didn’t claim them. To be tossed into the bowels of a foreign land did not appeal to her wild want, however. She dreamed of greater things, of the unseen half of the horizon, and of an unwritten future, where she was free to feel the sunrise on her face as it rose over territories untouched by the crusading Westerners.

“Well… Begin.” The call was clear and absolute.

Three men dared to test their mettle against that of their supposed masters, hungering for battle and wanting nothing less than the decimation of their enemy. In this place, their little world, the enemy was not the Empire; it was the Gods and Goddesses that reigned over all atop this new Olympus. In their eyes she could see the same wanton desires that presided over many a warrior’s instincts. In her gut, she felt something similar, strong feelings of anger and determination wrestling for dominance. Nairi couldn’t boldly claim to have had anything as ostentatious as a military career, but what she lacked in finesse and pedigree, she more than made up for in spirit. Lifting her chin, the woman let out a short breath and stepped forward. “Wait,” she called out, oddly calm. “Let me fight.”

Tane hadn't noticed how strange the manacles felt around his hands until they were off. He rubbed feverishly at his wrists until the blood came back to them properly. Had they gotten paler, or was he imagining things? The slave boy tried to pass him his weapons, a club and a shield, but he made him drop the weapons on the ground and shooed him away. There was a proper way to do this.

He stretched out his arms, relieving the cramps from the long journey, rolling them backwards and forwards, tipping his head back and forth, working out the cricks. As he did, he spoke to his opponent.
"I like Dominus Ludusra. He is funny man, yes! I don't know how he think of the Kaoteru as pig-fuckers, but they were!"

He stretched one great branch of an arm over his head and let out a great belly-laugh.
"And you! You are a chief of something as well! I see it in how you stand, like my chief, or my father, or me! Why do you give me such a small club? I can not kill a dog with something so small, hah!"

Another guffaw echoed forth.
"Let's see how much of the cunning and the skill you have, burned face! Let me greet you properly, 'brother'!"

M'Baka started forwards, but stopped with a look of mild confusion when Tane took in a deep breath, slammed both feet to the ground, twisted them outwards and began to shout.
Earth, ground me and keep me still as the rock and the cliff.
He struck out both arms straight, left palm pointed up and north, right palm up and south
North and South, let your light shine on us, let us never lose our way
With a great sweeping movement of his arms, he slammed his right hand palm first onto his chest and thrust his left arm, also palm first, straight at M'Baka who was staring wide-eyed in confusion.
May the mana flow through me and my friend, may energy and fortune run through us both
His eyes snapped open, alight with wildfire, his mouth twisted into a fearsome, energetic grin as he let loose a roar to denote the new part of the greeting. He lifted each leg in turn, slammed them down on the ground and twisted them into the sand. With another guttural bellow, he slammed his hands onto his thighs one after the other, then slammed them into the air and lolled his tongue out as far as it would go
Greetings, my enemy!
He smashed his fists against his mighty barrel chest, raised them to the sky and then smacked them down onto the ground with tremendous force.
May our blood feed the soil and our flesh nourish the birds and beasts, should we die.
Tane slapped one sand-covered hand against the elbow of the other arm, repeated it with the other arm, and then hammered both firsts into his inner thighs.
I will break your arms and your legs, and leave you still, my enemy.
He swing one mighty meathook of a hand forwards as if to grasp the head of an invisible man, then repeated the move with his right hand. With a mighty shout he brought the invisible head slamming against one knee, then the other
I will break your skull, my enemy, and I shall grind your bones to dust.
With an air of finality, he crossed his arms in front of him, and then wrenched them apart as if he were tearing something in two with a mighty skyward howl
You will die here, my enemy, so say I to north and south, to earth and sky!

He relaxed a let out a great breath of air, then reached for the shield and club, the latter still being pitifully small. M'Baka broke out of his state of utter confusion.
"Are you ready to fight now, or should I wait for the right constellation to pass overhead?"

In answer, Tane lunged at him, bringing down the club with speed that belied the man's great size - but the Doctore was faster, and the club sailed past him with a whoosh as he twisted out its path. M'Baka waited a second for Tane's momentum to bring the painted giant past him, before dealing him a ferocious downwards jab in the side with the blunt training spear that sent him stumbling away from the Doctore.
The islander steadied himself, twisted on his heel and began stalking around the Doctore, stance low and steady. His opponent mirrored him, the two walking on the opposite edges of a circle they were treading into the ludus floor.
Tane took a half-jump, half-step forwards, still keeping out of the range of the practice spear. The trainer shifted the grip of the spear slightly in his hands. With a smile more usually seen attached to a fin rapidly approaching a drowning sailor, Tane jumped forward again with a little bark, ending up just outside of the spear's regular reach, his club and shield held to his sides. M'Baka lunged forward, but Tane swung the shield up with blinding speed and clumsily knocked the spear upwards, then charged like a bull straight at the trainer, shield held in front of him. Once again, the Doctore spun out of his path, but this time Tane twisted to face him, ready to charge again.

And caught the blunt end of the training spear to the side of his mouth. Without time to properly stabilise himself, he stumbled, reeling from the sudden pain. The spear smacked into the backs of his knees, unsteadying him and a couple of rapid, strong thrusts to the small of his back and his neck sent him tumbling to the ground. Almost immediately he tried to push himself up from the ground, ignoring the hail of spear hits raining down upon him, adrenaline and rage overpowering the pain. The spear swept under his hands and yanked them out from under him, sending him collapsing to the ground to breathe angrily in the sand and dust.

"And now, you would be dead."
Stated M'Baka in a serious tone.

Within a few seconds, the heavy, angry breaths of the painted giant changed into coughing, and from coughing into another great rumbling belly-laugh as he pushed himself from the ground, wincing as he stretched out bruises on his back, his limbs, his head. The great man dragged himself to his feet, barely able to breathe for his raucous laughter, brushed himself off and strode purposefully over to M'Baka.
"YOU! LITTLE MAN! I LIKE YOU!"

Any attempts at speech degenerated into further mirthful noises for a while. He finally managed to get a hold of himself, and turned to the Dominus.
"Dominus Ludusra! Is this what the Arena will be like? I have not have such a good fight in many nights! I feel so alive! You Sentyurums are crazy, but I like you! By North and South, by your silly gods, tell me this what the arena, what be a gladiator is like! Is so, you will have my ear and my hand for long time, and I will be fighting in your name, yes!"

Cynbel was not at all pleased about how casually Canis had insulted his worth as a warrior. He had trained since he was old enough to hold a sword and had seen many a man fall to his sword and now suddenly he knew nothing? Who was this man to decide such a thing and more importantly how could he even come to the conclusion without ever having seen Cynbel himself fight. Determined to prove the man wrong Cynbel watched the two fights that took place eagerly, absorbing as much as he could. Both Doctores were obviously extremely skilled, being both incredibly fast and strong. Despite their obvious skill Cynbel was still confident that he could best them, or at least hold his own in a fight against one of them. The dance and crazy chanting that the giant foreign man made a show of right before fighting was pretty damn interesting too, although Cynbel doubted it's usefulness and relevance outside of the man’s own culture. Finally two fights were over and done with and Cynbel had seen what he wanted to see. Along with another woman he too stepped fourth.

“I will not carry the regret of letting this opportunity pass me by. I too wish to fight.” Cynbel spoke confidently, holding faith in years of combat experience.

Heimdal looked upon Miserow as though he were nothing more than annoying fly. Miserow looked at Heimdal as though he wasn't even there. Miserow had been through this all before. The blowhard who talked a good game but rarely could deliver when called upon, or once again more psychological warfare. Miserow had little or no use for such tactics as he found them to be little or no use when trying to survive against someone who's sole purpose was to end your life by the quickest means necessary.

Finally Heimdal turned to the side held his left arm parallel with Miserow and bowed his head and closed his eyes. This made Miserow stop for a moment and Heimdal said, "Attack me."

Miserow wasn't sure if he heard him as he asked, "What?"

Heimdal replied, "I said attack me. Boy."

Miserow wasn't one to cave into such tactics as taunting, but he was really getting tired of being called boy. Heimdal said once more, "Attack me boy or do you fear an advisory that is unprepared. Is that it boy? You are afraid of the unknown. That's it isn't it..."

Before Heimdal could finish his statement Miserow charged, but Heimdal spun around. Not only did he trip Miserow he hit him with the flat part of the Thraex and then knocked him upside the head with his shield. Miserow fell face first against a rock and busted his nose wide open. He grunted in pain and Heimdal stepped away and said with a chuckle in his voice, "Really boy? You sought to just charge in like a drunken bull full of strength and frustration with no thought to discipline or questioning what was in front of you. This isn't the streets or a prison barge boy! Here you must think. I gave you a bait and you swallowed it! Young fool!"

Miserow got back to his feet and wiped away the blood. Miserow shook his head twice and Heimdal replied, "Ahhh back on your feet to be humbled again boy? So be it." Heimdal laid on his back and closed his eyes and said, "Attack again boy!"

Miserow charged at Heimdal's head and in one smooth motion Heimdal threw his legs over his head and caught Miserow flush in the chest. As Miserow stumbled back Heimdal sprung to his feet and clubbed Miserow with the flat part of the blade and in the gut with the shield. Heimdal shook his head said, "Really how did you ever survive on the streets and that barge all those years? Did the others take pity on you boy?"

MIserow grunted and Heimdal said, "Ahh yes preparing for yet another charge drunken bull, or should I say pregnant cow?" Miserow began to charge and as he did Heimdal rolled away, but this time Miserow rolled with him and hit him in the head with his Thraex and in the chest with his shield. Miserow stood there but Heimdal spun back around and hit Miserow in the nose causing more blood to spray out then landed a shot in the chest again and two more shots on his nose.

Miserow stumbled back and Heimdal said, "You thought those blows would be the end of it? Again boy this is not a street fight or a prison barge. You must learn where to hit your adversary at the proper angle and how to press the attack. You have no skill or discipline. You think everything is a one punch and over street fight. This is the arena boy! Learn to use your weapons, learn to think, be disciplined in your movements, and..." Miserow charged again and Heimdal side stepped and hit him in the head. "never show your attack methods."

Miserow would charge again and again and Heimdal would side step or block and blast Miserow in his nose. The blood loss, the shots to the head, the heat, and being kicked in punched in many other areas began to take their toll on Miserow. He was now punch-drunk and barely able to stand. Heimdal said, "You've had enough of a lesson this day boy. Back in your position."

Heimdal started to walk away and Miserow said in a ragged voice, "Is that all you got? Is that the best you can do? I am still here! I am still standing. You hit like a child." Miserow charged at Heimdal who caught him with right cross causing a tooth to fly out and sent Miserow spiraling to the ground

Heimdal motioned for two servants to carry Miserow back. They started to carry him but Miserow stood and said, "I will walk." It was more of a controlled stumble but he got back to his place. He stood very wobbly and said, "This is not over."

Heimdal just looked at him for a moment and then walked over to Canis and said, "He fights with no focus or discipline. He thinks in terms of here and now and not ahead. However he does adapt upon occasion and he does have great power. Not to speak of his will. This one doesn't know when to quit he believes in the fight to the death." He nodded and said, "Canis I can work with him. He has a flame of potential that I can see."

The fights were very informative to Canis' eyes. Lucanus, the young, small Grecian was fast with good coordination and footwork. His flaws were many, of course, including the way that his body would show how he would strike, arrogance, which Canis hoped would be depleted, and not taking the strengths of his opponent in to fact as well. Those would be hard hard to overcome, but as much as he hated to admit it, Heimdal had been right. Perfectly ambidextrous fighters were hard to find, as Lucanus was as close to it as it would come. He would set Darma to train him, and if he showed promise, Canis himself would show interest in his training.

Tane was of equal promise he saw. He was a large man, physically intimidating to the untrained eye, but, even if faster than his size would give, he was still slow and cumbersome. But there was little training that could change that. The idea was to make this man a mountain, impossible to approach without having one's head bashed in. He needed more muscle mass, but with proper training, the only possible way to attack him would be to face death. And few men, even gladiators would be able to do that. Footwork was needed as well, although the giant proved himself to be a natural when it came to that. His laughter too, was infectious, and Canis found himself smiling along with him at the end of the fight. M'baka, stoic as always, moved back into position and the slave boy removed the weapons. The crowds would adore him.

But, surprisingly, the man that showed the the most promise was Miserow. Yes, he was easy to bait, easy to anger, and his balance and footwork needed a lot of training, but beyond that, Canis saw something intelligent in the man's eyes. He was a quick learner, with a sharp mind for breaches in defense, and until now, the only one of the Trainees that had successfully landed a blow on their Doctore's, even if it was weak and unskilled. While this man would not be as easily popular amongst the crowds of Maro, he had the make and heart of a champion in him.

"I can't help but agree, old friend," Canis said in a low voice," He has the potential to be great. But he needs training. You will train him, Heimdal," The large man nodded and turned to Cynbel as the man spoke, and the young woman as well, both of who were ready, in their minds to accept the challenge. He nodded," Heimdal, you will take the young man," He was more excited now. They were learning their place now, the trainees, and he was seeing what potential they had in them. He was seeing the genius in his plan now," Luminia, spar with the young woman, and..." He chuckled," Try not to send her to the infirmary too..." Speaking of," He turned to the slave boy," Escort him," Pointing at Miserow, who was still leaking blood from his nose," To the infirmary, and ask the Medicus if the Grecian is ready to return."

Cynbel smiled when Heimdal approached him. He had only just seen him fight and thus held an instant advantage over him and the man who had just fought him. The man whom had just been beaten by the giant was an undeniably skilled fighter, but he seemingly lacked knowledge of attacking someone more powerful than ones self. It was a lesson hard learned in Cynbel's mind, before the Empire invaded his homeland he too would wildly charge at his opponents, more often than not he would come out on top. That didn't work against the Empire though, they were heavily armoured men and his countrymen that didn't learn to take their time and pick striking opportunities well soon fell to the invaders superior armour and weaponry. It was a lesson that would undoubtedly come in handy in his fight against Heimdal for he was greater in stature and as hard as it was for the confident Celt to admit, even to himself, skill too. Cynbel hoped that his great balance between speed and strength would see him to victory against the larger man. Walking over to the weapon chests Cynbel picked himself up a shield and a gladius, the same as Heimdal he noted. The two made their way back to the sand and faced each other, both of them getting into a similar fighting stance.

“You think you will do any better than the last man? See the Dominus words into your thick fucking skull. You are nothing.” Heimdal taunted, likely hoping Cynbel was foolish enough to charge in and be battered.

“And if observation is anything to go by thus far you are a man who calls himself a warrior and yet seemingly prefers to talk rather than fight.” Cynbel retorted, allowing himself a quick chuckle. “Save your words, attack me and we shall see who the greater warrior is without luring words.”

His words didn't get the man to charge, but that would have been too much to hope for anyway, they did get him to stop talking though, at least temporarily and he even began to approach, apparently now ready to fight.

“So the word warrior ceases talk and is ready to fight? That's a small victory in it's own right. Worth at least the mansion, no?” Cynbel taunted, joining the man in walking forward and readying himself for the powerful blows he would need to evade or block.

Heimdal swung first, a powerful and surprisingly fast swing that Cynbel ducked under in the nick of time, rolling under the man's shield and swinging for his leg but luckily connecting with the back of the ankle as he raised it to evade. Cynbel quickly tried rising but had to stop due to having to raise his shield and block the man's furious side swing. Even through the shield Cynbel felt pain in his forearm as the blow connected, the man’s strength even greater than Cynbel had given him credit for. The boot to his shield was unexpected also and forced him to roll backwards and get onto his feet. It would be a truly difficult fight, he could not be as brazen as to attack the man straight up for the man held superior strength and would crumble any offense with one blow. On the other hand he was wise and cunning enough that Cynbel's evasion techniques would not last for long.

Cynbel took the man's surprise at him actually connecting as one of the few opportunities he would get and side swiped at the man's head. Cynbel had been wrong, he was ready and waiting. He quickly pulled back and dodged the sly swipe before using Cynbel's surprise and ramming his shield with his own. Before the Celt could cock his arm back and crack the larger man in the nose he saw the man's own giant fist coming at him fast. He pulled his head back as much as he could but the fist connected, slamming into his forehead and making him immediately dizzy. Luckily he hadn't felt the full power of the punch but it was still quite the blow. If he didn't get out of the lock he knew he was finished so he did the only thing that came to mind, dropping down onto his back as quickly as he could and launching a kick at the large man’s genitals. His foot connected and the man gave a grunt of pain that made even Cynbel sympathetic. The larger man dropped to his knees, Cynbel thinking it due to the pain. Once again he was wrong. As he went to get up the large man hurled his fist forward, connecting with Cynbel's temple and knocking him straight back down to the ground. He tried to get back up but was too dizzy to stand, quickly tumbling back down to the ground and staring towards the bright morning sky as stars circled in the corners of his eyes.

“Pathetic attempt at victory! Desperate and weak. You are nothing.” Heimdal repeated, walking away.

Cynbel waited for another fifteen or so seconds before finally attempting to get up again, dizzily stumbling over to the wall as he slowly regained his senses.

“That giant has balls of steel.” He chuckled, putting a hand to his pounding head. “Fuck, and a fist that could rival a battering ram.”

Ivy listened carefully to Canis, her eyes focused on him and the way in which he conducted herself. Though she agreed not with her station in life she knew that there would be a chance to move up and if killing her old friend, Heimdal was the last move to checkmate then she'd have no problem finishing the race laid before her. Various members of the new slave class before her stepped up and tried to dance with her equals, a smile touching her lovely mouth here and there as they failed, some more miserably than others. Lumina almost moved forward to fight one of the men, but knew her place and waited for Canis to give her a welcome mat upon which to wipe her feat. Her trident and net sat just before her, but it was simply her dagger in which she would provide a lesson to the beautiful young woman that declared bravery or stupidity by stepping forward.

The invitation was given and Ivy smiled at the girl with wicked intent, stepping forward and sliding her blade into the side of her loin cloth, her head tilting just so as she let her eyes offer no solace or reprieve. "Do you believe in hell, girl? Do you know what it feels like to have the devil himself bend upon you and strip you of everything you believe to be yours?" She smiled and gave the girl a 'come-hither' with the fingers of one hand, the other languidly by her side. "No? Well, let me show you..."

Nairi snorted her amusement, feeling quite disappointed that she'd be facing a woman. Exactly as it was on the selling block, here it appeared that a person's worth was measured on scales marked apart by gender. Or maybe it was simply because she was the only one left yet to fight, aside from the Dominus himself. A quick look to the side and she saw her preferred opponent; the man who brutalized the first challenger. Even though the entire situation was an extremity compared to norm, there was something in him that didn't sit right. He looked more than hungry, as if he existed not for the thrill, not only to inflict pain, but to see his enemy suffer. It was saddistic and sick the look he gave as his pulped 'pupil' was dragged away. She wanted the chance to carve him a new look.

The woman she was to face now looked more refined, if that was possible. She had the bearing of a true battle maiden, fierce and true to the sport - no - the Art of war that is combat. Nairi gave her a solid gaze and moved toward the starting point. From the weapons on offer, she selected what felt most familiar; twin pugiones. A few times before, she had pulled a similar weapon from that sweet spot between the spine and neck, usually after a flurry of blind stabs and slashing. Wielding two of them would give some sort of an advantage, she thought. Looking directly into the woman's eyes, she smiled and drew the blades against each other, the sound of metal against metal ringing a shrill tune. Compared to her own lean and slender form, Luminia's towering physique was packed with hard muscle and extreme curves. The woman was still gorgeous, hard as it was to believe and admit. Nairi drew the blades a final time and brought them down about her in a half-arc from the centre.

"Just show me how you look when you lose!" The last word came out like a roar, and the smaller woman launched herself at the Doctore with cross-crossing slashes. Her movements were quick and wild, their direction for the moment was straight, and her sights narrowed on the exposed belly ahead.

A smile touched Ivy's lips as she moved with ease to the side, the girl a fireball and full of piss and vinegar. She liked her already, but had a lesson to teach the young thing and it was best learned day one rather than meeting death head on day two. As she moved to the side her fingers wrapped tightly around the girls upper arm, pulling hard and pressing her front to the girls back. The battle was no match at all and yet it was really more about taking ones place so that the gladiators might give them rise to a higher calling, a deeper purpose. Her blade was drawn with speed and experience before the smaller women could fathom what had taken place, the blade pressed to her throat and Lumina to her back, her lips near her small ear.

"That is where you've made your first mistake, little one... that you'd ever get the opportunity to see my face." She pushed the knife in a little, but with an arm tucked behind her back, the point was proven and Ivy let her go, pushing her off and walking toward her fellow Doctores with a shake of her head. "I'll need to fight one of you later to remember how it is to be challenged."

After the fight, Heimdal moved back to where Canis was standing, slipping his hand underneath his loin-cloth to rub his abused genitalia, with Canis chuckling," A dirty fighter, I see?" He asked with an eyebrow raised, watching Luminia step forward, unarmed except for the dagger at her belt.

Heimdal growled," You aught to put him with Darma, show him the real meaning of suffering," Heimdal snarled back, straightening himself," He's a bit too cocky, but he has a quick eye and no sense of honor. The kind of man the crowd would love to hate, if you take my meaning. They would flock to the arenas in hopes of watching him lose, if he is successful. It's also very likely that if he loses a fight, they will not give life."

Canis nodded, scowling a bit at the overly brief fight between the slave girl and Luminia," You held back in fighting him," Canis said softly," Care to explain why?"

Heimdal nodded," Didn't want to send any more of the men to the Medicus. We need to get our men training as quickly as possible."

Canis nodded," True, I suppose," He moved over to Luminia, smiling," Thank you for not beating her senseless," He said with a chuckle, one that faded to a growl as he turned to Darma. He had fought the man in the past, and while much stronger, Canis was faster and more agile, putting Darma on the ground quickly. The crowd had liked the man, however, and given him life. Three more had been the same. Two were now contenders for the title of the Champion of Maro. The last had died in his next fight. There was something in the man that Canis didn't like, but he couldn't deny that the man was the finest Cestus fighter in the world.

"Try not to send any more to the Medicus, eh Darma?" Canis raised his eyebrow, and the huge man relaxed.

"Yes Dominus," He said in a gravelly tone.

Canis turned to the rest of them. The lessons had been well learned. They needed more training, and none of them looked like they wanted to have a go with any of the Doctores. Meli, of course, was not up for fighting. He had picked the girl mainly because of her skilled and tactical mind. Her distance judgement was second to none and she knew how to use a shield to deadly effect, but her hands were too weak to wield anything but a dagger. She had never fought in the arena, nor received gladiator training, and yet she was still among the deadliest of the house, especially since she could strike from afar.

"Enough, worms?" He asked," Or do you need further display of your weakness?" None other stepped forward," Very well, we shall begin training,"He turned to Heimdal," You had your eye on the two that you fought. Take them for further training as well as him... him... and her," He indicated towards three others, including Nairi, and Heimdal nodded, indicating for the five to separate themselves from the rest.

"Darma, as you beat the youth down, you will train the Grecian. Her as well..." He said, pointing at Claudia, and selecting three others. The selection continued in similar manner, with five men to each Doctore, Tane going to M'baka.

Claudia watched the various displays of strength, some part of who she was yearned to step forward and prove them all wrong and yet she was intelligent enough to understand very well how these "freed slaves" gained their freedom. They'd been fighting in the styles and methods that they were encouraging each of the new slaves to step forward and present. Defeat was assured due to their inability to truly understand their enemies as well as the load of nerves that sat upon their shoulders at being slaves. Men were never created for servanthood under other men and that alone would take some "breaking" as it were.

She watched the two women spar, a smile on the edge of her mouth at the thought that the younger woman most likely would kill Lumina in a true fight where they were on equal footing. The one thing the gladiators had against them was their heir of cockiness. They seemed not to understand that those that rise can quickly fall. Claudia would train and obey orders to the n'th degree only to one day take out each of them in the battle field of the arena. She'd heard before that a winner in the arena had the opportunity to challenge another, one of the greats or someone of equal footing. She hoped that day came because she would gladly call on their pompous leader, Canis.

His voice brought her from her thoughts and she simply nodded like a well trained dog might, moving toward Darma, the man's muscles almost twitching with anticipation for the ass kicking to come their way. She stifled a smile, focusing instead on the bloody trail of a lesson learned that lay below her. She moved to stand just before Darma as the others moved with her, no one looking up but her. She'd play along, but a slave at heart she was not.