Aiwren is one of the most prosperous countries in Alta, if not the most despite being an isolationist nation. Second to Emperor Gaius Julius Caesar, the wealthiest man with the most slaves in all the land is Lord Marcus Licinius Crassus. Caesar controls Aiwren with an iron grip. The currency of the town is run on a ring system. There are copper rings, silver rings, and finally gold rings and each ring bears Caesar’s name. Despite the displeasure the slavery in his country brings to his neighbors, Caesar rules Aiwren uncontested. The workforce of the nation is dominantly comprised of slaves who all serve under a wealthy lord, and each lord owns a section of Aiwren. Very few individuals are autonomous. Those few are mostly the wealthy either born into wealth or who migrated into Aiwren from the West.

With zealotry running rampant in the streets, hidden in the shadows of the cities and towns are black markets. False god fruits are sold to the gullible. The fraudulent fruits are usually either real fruits either fresh, rotten, or exotic to the country or fruits injected with hallucinogenic drugs. Slaves from other countries are sold in Aiwren and their race varies from Human to Beastman. Monsters created by the god fruits are sold as security or punishment to keep rebellious slaves in line.

Caesar controls the education with many of his people growing in the belief that he is a god. There are rumors that he was able to taste the fruit of Aenia and thus was why he now sits on top of the world. It is uncertain if these rumors are true or not, but they have been influential enough to conform the country to zealotry. The legionaries that encompass Caesar’s army have an unshakable loyalty that if Caesar wished it, he could command his men to fall on their own blades. He is deemed The God of Aiwren and whether or not the other nations believe it, the title has kept them from intervening in his affairs.





Marcus Licinius Crassus is the lord of the Crassus Manor, a massive mansion that sits in the quiet forested rurals of Aiwren. The mansion is a quarter of a day’s journey away from the closest city, and a visitor can easily identify it for it is one of the most majestic architectural masterpieces in Aiwren.

Lord Crassus is a bachelor who which many a fine lady has tried to seduce whether with beauty or money. Gold is Crassus’s only true love. Marriage is expensive, and if a woman was permitted into a man’s pocket, then he would soon be bankrupt—at least that’s what he believes. However, he has been able to quell his fluctuating desires with many a whore, and he will take weekend trips into the city to satiate his desires in a brothel.

While he owns the manor, he rarely has any direct influence in how the slaves are rewarded, treated, punished, and cared for. There are 6 overseers who regulate the house and who completely take advantage of the power they have when the lord is gone. When a slave refuses to cooperate, the heads of each section of the home will not hesitate to report the misconduct, and the overseers take sadistic pleasure in correcting it.

There are various duties in the manor from sheet and dish washing, cleaning, cooking, hunting, field work, etc. The current roles of our players are listed below:

• Pit Fighter – Leonidas I
• Pit Fighter - Shaka Zulu
• Library Staff – Merlin Ambrosius
• Hunter – Robin of Locksley
• Lord’s Steward – King Arthur

The slave chambers are bays where in one massive square room there are six beds with another six bunked on top of them. The servants are given only two pairs of clothes that they must clean themselves, mattresses and sheets that they must tend to themselves, and bowls full of water to wash themselves with every morning and evening. There are two meals: morning, which is a bowl of porridge, and evening, which is a boule of bread and hot soup. The slaves eat lunch when they are able to find the time and they can’t afford to get caught eating and not working, thus lunch is often discreet or missed.

The house relies upon the hunters to bring home the meat, and if the hunters are unsuccessful, then all the servants will go without supper before the lord and overseers do.

The Forbidden Rules
The rules that all slaves know they’re not allowed to break, but some who believe they can get away with it, will still attempt to do so.
1. NO slave will drink the lord’s wine if not offered (which will never happen).
2. NO slave will eat from the lord’s table if not offered (might happen).
3. NO slave will steal from the lord.
4. NO slave will escape alive.
5. NO slave will speak ill or traitorous of the lord.
6. NO slave is permitted to read and write.
7. NO slave will buy, sell, or trade anything.
8. NO slave will enter the lord’s bed chamber lest he or she wishes to die.

The most commonly committed Forbidden Rule is those slaves who steal food from the kitchens.



1. Banquet with Caesar – Caesar isn’t a frequent guest at the manor, but when he does come, the manor is practically transformed in order to impress and amaze. The slaves are forced to work overtime to make sure the manor is immaculate. Caesar, apparently, wasn’t the only guest to be expected. There were two others: Gnaeus Pompeius “Pompey” Magnus and Samuel Adams. They are apparently discussing something important. [Complete]

2. The Demon of Crassus Manor – Rumor has it that one of the Overseers may have gone into town and purchased an illegal animal—a god fruit monster to be exact. It is believed that those slaves who break the forbidden rules or those pit fighters who become crippled in a match are fed to the demon! [Complete]

3. Bring Home The Bacon – They say that there’s a legendary boar in the woods, so strong that not even the god fruit demons can feast on its succulent meat. They say the boar is as big as a carriage! Just think, if the hunters could kill it, how much meat the manor would have? There would be so much that they would have to serve it to the slaves in the next soup! [Title Event]

4. Herb Needs An Herb – The Head Chef needs a special truffle mushroom that can only be found in the forest, but wild boars tend to love eating truffles so there may not be any left. They are currently in season so here’s hoping! [Open Quest – May Lead to Title Event *hint**hint*]

5. Night Owl...Or? – Hm…has anyone ever noticed that we never see that one Overseer during the day? He tends to show up only at night. But aren’t they tasked to watch the slaves 24/7? Sounds like a mystery. [To be investigated – possible title event]

6. Best Marskman - At the banquet, Pompey challenged Crassus to a marksman competition. They are to present their sharpest shooters in a competition. [This is a possible event and it may or may not happen depending on the scenario - if it does happen, then there will be a title award]

• Gilles de Rais (1404 - October 26, 1440) - a sadistic overseer who enjoys tormenting the slaves. He has a mysterious pet named Corpseeater that Lord Crassus doesn't know about.
• Achilles (The Illiad) - Caesar's pugilist with the title Best Fighter in the Land.
• William Tell (Tellenlied) - Pompey's best marksman soon to challenge Robin of Locksley in a marksmanship competition.
• Ivan "Ivan the Terrible" Vasilyevich (September 3, 1530 - March 28, 1584) - the mysterious overseer who the slaves have only seen at night. Strangely, he has no heartbeat.
• Arachne (Greco-Roman Mythology) - she was a talented weaver in the Crassus House transformed after consuming God Fruit into a grotesque spider who goes by the name, Corpseeater.

1. Do not OOC in the IC. OOC in the OOC. That's why it is there.
2. If you decide to use images, either make sure they are sized down to a size that won't lag out people's computers or put them in a hider.
3. Keep all scenes PG-13 and vague if you want to get graphic.
4. Players are free to create NPCs or even name the NPCs that are hinted to be in the game. Once a NPC is named, then they will be listed under NPCs as common knowledge.
5. Do not try and give yourself a plot advantage through NPCs. Also, do not give yourself titles. Titles are awarded by the GM. Plot significant situations will be moved along by the GM unless otherwise stated.


This header is to be posted above your post every time you post. This tells people who you are role playing, what their current location is, and who are they currently talking to as well as mentioning in their post to direct those writers' attention. This is for the convenience of all writers.

Name: This is your character's name.
Occupation: This is your character's occupation in the manor.
Time/Date: This is where the time and date will go. It'll be pretty vague such as Day One/Evening for this arc.
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Tagging: You can place the @Mentions here or you can write the character's names here.

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Name: Jane Doe
Occupation: Chambermaid
Location: Library
Tagging: Steven, Kara, Frank

The long wooden banquet table was adorned with white candles, illuminating the banquet hall in a gentle gold that caused the silverware to gleam. A man in crimson robes, bearing the bronze clasp of the ruler of Aiwren sat at the head of the table, whilst two armored gentlemen sat to his left and right, and a fourth to the left of the leftmost man. The man was Emperor Gaius Julius Caesar, and to his left was Lord Marcus Licinius Crassus whose lavish home he dined in this night. To the left of him was an agent of intelligence, Samuel Adams who had managed to inform his legionaries of the movements of the resistance. To his right was one of Caesar’s most decorated generals, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, a man better known in the blood his blade spills on the battlefield. These men sat together gathered about a table abundant with hot loaves, roasted boar, gravy boats, crisp fruits, plump vegetables, and custards. It was a grand feast that permeated the air with spice, butter, and cooked meat.

Crassus was slumped to his right in his chair, his hand closed about the stem of a silver goblet that the cupbearer at his side (Arthur) made certain to always keep full. The lord’s face was flushed from the countless sips he took from his cup, and his posture was relaxed as he watched Caesar and Pompey sample the juicy thighs of the boar his hunters had brought in. He motioned with his hand to the boar and clearing his throat, Crassus informed: “We have yet to capture the legend, but…this boar was perhaps the second largest in the forest.”

Pompey’s teeth sank into the thick thigh and he turned his head to tear the glistening meat from the bone. Through a few grunts whilst he chewed, he replied, “The meat of the legend would feed this entire country.”

Caesar popped a grape into his mouth before a smirk quirked on his face and he raised his cup to Crassus: “I wait anxiously for your success. I just hope that you don’t lose all of your hunters trying to kill the thing.”

“He needs an army,” Pompey grunted again before crunching into the leg once more.

Crassus lowered his hand and took another sip from his cup before he spoke, “My hunters are the best in the land. Robin’s marksmanship is unmatched.”

Pompey dropped the bone and kissed the bouillon from his fingers. His lips rolled back as he bore his teeth in a condescending grin at Crassus.

“Is that right?” Pompey challenged. “I would like to see your Robin against my William Tell.”

Crassus gave Pompey an unimpressed stare. “The day your archer can wield a real bow is the day he will face Robin.”

Pompey slapped a hand upon the table and guffawed, “If your marksman was as good as you claim, then it shouldn’t matter what type of bow he uses.”

Crassus frowned. “Fine. I accept your challenge.”

Whilst Crassus and Pompey were having their pissing match under the table, Caesar had been idly eating and staring at Crassus’s cupbearer. He interrupted their gloating, pointing at Arthur:

“Who is this boy? I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen him before at your side.”

Crassus peered over his shoulder, his brown eyes lazily rolling over to Arthur. “His name is Arthur Pendragon. He is my steward, and yes, he is quite new.”

“Pendragon? That sounds like the name for a king,” Caesar complimented. He didn’t know why he was drawn to the boy. He was completely ordinary but as he stood there obediently holding that pitcher for Crassus, he couldn’t help but desire him at his own side and with hair. Caesar sat back in his chair and stroked his naked chin in deep thought. He could barely see the stubble of hair on the boy’s head, but he would guess him to be a blonde. Blonde hair and blue eyes…truly the traits of a champion. “So he’s new?...How much?”

Crassus’s brows lifted in surprise. “Pardon?”

“I want to buy him from you,” Caesar clarified. “How much?”

Crassus fell silent and glanced once more at Arthur before he looked at the gold rings that lined his fingers. Rubbing his index finger and thumb together aimlessly, the lord spoke his thoughts aloud: “Gold means nothing to the wealthiest man in Aiwren.”

“My name is on every ring of gold you own, so is it all truly yours?”

Crassus internally cringed at Caesar’s cutting retort. It only made the greed in his body tense with adamance. If Caesar desired his steward, then he must have truly been special.

“My emperor, I respect, honor, and praise your name, but I must refuse.”

Pompey’s eyes widened in shock before he bellowed, “You dare refuse Caesar?”

Caesar held out his hand to settle the rage of his general. “Calm yourself Pompey, it is not your place to be insulted for me.”

He then turned his brown eyes to Crassus and smiled. “I will fight you for him. Bring forth your best pugilist against mine.”

Crassus arched a brow. “You brought your pugilist?”

“I always bring my pugilist. He is the best bodyguard I could ever have.”

Crassus narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he waved a hand to one of his overseers. He didn’t even have to tell him what he commanded for the servant knew. Five minutes later, a young bald boy was ushered into the room with two overseers at his back. He was securing the wrappings on his fists when he passed Arthur, giving the boy a questionable look before his eyes motioned over to the feast on the table that made his stomach twist into starving knots. One of the overseers chopped him on the shoulder to avert his eyes and get him to focus on the fight that was about to occur.

Caesar eyed the small boy…another bald one. His brows were dark and eyes fierce, but his lids bore sleep-deprived shadows.

“What is this mutt you brought before me?” Caesar scoffed.

Crassus smirked. “His name is Leonidas, and he is used to being underestimated before he wins.”

Caesar tilted his head and rolled his eyes before he summoned over his shoulder, “Achilles!”

Both Crassus and Leonidas were stunned at the sight of the young boy whose head was covered in a mane of blonde curls. He was taller and his muscles larger and more defined than Leo’s. He also appeared to be five years older than him.

Determined to hide his unease, Crassus jeered, “You bring a girl to a man’s fight. I can’t say that’s fair.”

Caesar threw back his head, his face glowing with laughter. “He bears the mane of a lion and he’s as wild as one. Your boy will know when he’s in the lion’s teeth. If you didn’t shave their heads and deprive them of their true strength, then you might have actually stood a chance.”

“I shave their heads to remind them who their master is and that neither of them is better than the other. We will see whose loyalty is strongest when they fight to their last breath.”

Leonidas stared nervously across the room at the other boy. He had sized him up and could tell that something was unusual about him. Curling and uncurling his hands, he steeled his nerves and hardened his expression. He knew that he would have to be careful and that he would have to win if he wished to keep on living.

Caesar waved Achilles forward. “Begin.”

Achilles clenched his fists, his arms and pectoralis muscles bulging tensely as he unleashed an adrenaline-induced roar that excited chills throughout Leon’s body. The maned boy then charged and Leon hissed as he had a feeling that this fight wasn’t going to go well. With a cry of his own, he sprinted for the other boy and when the two collided, both Crassus and Caesar were shocked to see that neither of the boys had been toppled. They locked arms about each other, both were trying to keep the other from going for the legs. Leonidas hugged Achilles close and sliding his right heel behind Achilles’s left, he was surprised how easy he was able to throw him onto his back.

Crassus smirked, while Caesar watched with a hand grasping his face. He had never seen any warrior able to take down Achilles so easily. Achilles had been surprised himself when his back met the wooden floor. The boys struggled in a grapple and due to height differences, Achilles was able to roll and claim the top. He drove his fist into Leon’s face, while Leon locked his leg with Achilles's and snagged his wrist when he attempted to throw a second punch at him. Leon rolled Achilles and keeping a good grip on his arm and clenching his wrist within his armpit, with his free arm, Leon started driving punches into the blonde fighter’s face.

Achilles attempted to bridge upwards with his hips to shake Leon’s balance, and Leon countered by posting a leg out and bringing it around Achilles’s trapped arm. Leon then fell back with Achilles’s trapped arm clenched between his thighs. Leon’s legs were stretched over the older boy’s neck and chest as he pulled his arm down and raised up with his hips, attempting to dislocate it. Achilles bore his teeth, his blue eyes shrunk and tense in nervous rage. This had been the first opponent whose techniques had actually worried him, and he saw how complacent he had become. The little kid should not have been able to give him so much trouble!

Achilles’s arm was tense in Leon’s grip as he resisted the breaking, using his raw strength to keep him from succeeding. He had to do something he knew, and with a growl, Achilles started to slowly rise to his feet. With Leonidas still weighing down his arm, Achilles rose, hunched over and rested Leon on the back of his shoulders, forcing him to fight gravity to stay locked about his arm. With his free arm, he started hammering the boy in the face, his knuckles gradually becoming red with blood that wasn’t his.

One of the overseers removed from his pocket a dinner fork that he discreetly tossed into the clinch. The clamor of the metal object hitting the floor startled Crassus and Caesar out of their transfixed condition. Had it fallen from the table? Samuel glared at the overseer who he had seen thrown it and returned to watching the scuffle. Leonidas and Achilles both noticed the fork and Leonidas released Achilles’s arm to make a desperate scramble for it. Achilles tackled him from behind, his arm locking about his throat as he pulled him against his chest into a headlock. Achilles reared back, lifting the much shorter boy off his feet as his arm tightened about his esophagus. Leon with his elbow, jabbed it into his kidney over and over while spittle started to foam from his lips. Achilles was forced to eventually throw Leon to the floor as he then dove for the fork. Leon, upon landing on his hands and knees, attempted to spring at Achilles and felt the utensil pierce his chest right beneath his collar bone.

Leonidas immediately recoiled in a start while Achilles followed him, stabbing the four-pronged weapon into his arm when he attempted to protect his face, and then his hand when Leonidas reached out to grasp the weapon. Leonidas growled as the two fighters stared venomously into each other’s eyes. It was at that moment of contact that Leon noticed how unscathed Achilles was. There wasn’t a bruise, cut, or any sign of inflammation on the warrior’s face. He looked untouched while Leon’s face was black, blue, and bleeding. How was that possible?

Releasing the fork, Achilles drove his fist into Leon’s face. Leon tossed the fork aside rather than use it against Achilles and knocked his next strike aside before he sent his own right hook into the blonde fighter’s face. He then snagged a handful of his hair. Achilles snarled like an enraged beast when he felt Leon tug his hair and use it to jerk forward and bring his forehead colliding with Achilles’s. The blow made the blonde warrior’s head swim as he crawled backwards in hopes of acquiring a moment to regain his focus. Leon sprang to his feet and raced over to the dinner table. He jumped and stepped onto the back of the seat of one of the banquet chairs and sprang off of it at Achilles to bring his fist cutting down across the warrior’s face.

“Raah!” the little boy bellowed as Achilles staggered backwards, the back of his hand brushing his face where Leon had struck him.

Standing upright with his chest expanding and shrinking with his labored breaths, Leonidas used the recovery moment to catch his breath. He observed Achilles through one eye, his other black and swollen shut. It resembled a golf ball of fluid. His nose had streams of blood spilling from his nostrils over his lips. Achilles lowered his hand, and Leonidas was again disturbed by how the boy was unharmed.

Crassus frowned deeply while Pompey laughed, “Your runt’s strikes don’t even hurt him!”

Samuel watched in amazement, feeling just as bewildered as Leonidas. This fight was a hoax. It was unfair.

Achilles didn’t seem at all out of breath like Leonidas was and he straightened to stand tall and confident. He regarded Caesar who held his thumb out before turning it downwards. Crassus’s eyes grew a little as he recognized the gesture. Achilles nodded and rushed Leonidas. From then on, against the punches Leonidas expertly threw at the warrior’s face, Achilles overwhelmed him as though they hadn’t even hurt. Every solid punch he dealt to Leonidas made the boy cringe and crumple until they were both on the floor. Leonidas laid beneath him too winded and unable to get a chance to replenish his stamina, while Achilles knelt over him driving fist after fist into his face. Leonidas couldn’t even feel his face anymore as Achilles turned it red with his fists. He soon blacked out and Achilles paused with his fist raised over him.

Caesar frowned. “What’s wrong? Finish him!”

Achilles lowered his fist and stood. “No. I want to fight him again. He’s done. I win.”

Achilles stepped over Leonidas to return to Caesar’s side while Pompey stood and applauded loudly.

“Bravo! All that money and Crassus can’t afford a decent fighter,” he laughed snidely.

Crassus glared at Pompey before he sharply expressed his opinion: “He cheated.”

Caesar arched a brow with an innocent smile. “Pardon?”

“Look at your boy, he doesn’t have a scratch on him. I know Leonidas. He’s not as weak as he looks. You put a god fruit fighter against mine.”

Caesar shook with laughter and then waved his hand dismissively at the spoiled sport funk Crassus had filled the room with.

“Come now, I won fair and square. Your boy put up a good fight, but I did say that Achilles is the best. Now, come boy…” He gestured to Arthur, “Come fill my cup.”

Crassus held a hand out to stop Arthur if he dared obey. His glare was still fixed on Caesar. “I will not give him to you. You will have to win him in a match that I deem fair.”

Pompey slammed his fist down upon the table and roared, “You greedy, arrogant lout! How dare you refuse Caesar again and again!”

Caesar looked a little perturbed but again he raised his hand to calm Pompey. “No matter. I will get that boy eventually.”

Pompey pointed at Crassus and challenged, “Your Robin against my Tell. It will be a marksmanship competition! If William wins, then the boy is Caesar’s!”

Crassus frowned briefly at Pompey before he calmly grasped his cup and took a drink from it. “As long as your Wiliam Tell isn’t a spawn of god fruit, then I shall not refuse.”

“It’s agreed then!”

Pompey plopped down in his chair, his face flushed from his outburst. Crassus motioned for one of the overseers to retrieve Leonidas’s body. The other overseer named Gilles de Rais (the fork-thrower), stepped over to Crassus and leaned over to whisper into his ear. With Arthur being so close, he would be able to overhear their conversation: What do you want me to do with the boy?

I don’t care. He’s useless to me now.

Gilles’s lips stretched into a malevolent smile, one that Samuel immediately noticed. Sam stood just as one of the overseers was carrying Leonidas’s limp body.

“Lord Crassus, what do you intend to do with that slave?” he asked.

The overseer paused and Gilles glared at Samuel suspiciously.

Crassus looked over at Samuel curiously. “What does it matter?”

“My lord, I have always desired to have a pugilist in my collection. Unfortunately, I do not make as much money to afford a decent one. Being that we are acquaintances, could you sell me your slave if you desire him no more?”

Pompey chuckled, “Huh! Another man’s trash is another man’s treasure!”

Crassus glanced over at Leonidas, his thumb rolling one of the golden rings on his fingers. After a dramatic minute of silence, the lord yielded, “Fine. I’ll sell him for five thousand golden rings.”

Samuel smiled in relief. “Thank you, my lord!”

Gilles’s nose wrinkled in displeasure but he quickly hid his expression when Crassus turned to him and ordered, “Go have him cleaned up.”

Gilles bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

He then walked with the other overseer out of the banquet room into the hall and stopped the other overseer from taking Leonidas to the slave chambers.

“Wait…we’re not taking him there,” Gilles said.

“What do you mean? Lord Crassus ordered us-”

“I know what he ordered, but I haven’t fed Corpseeater in a while.”

“If Lord Crassus finds out that you didn’t-”

“Hush, he won’t find out. We will say that the boy’s wounds were so severe that he succumbed to them. Now come, there’s a place in the cellar where we will take him.”

Back in the Banquet Hall

Caesar sighed and rose from his seat, brushing down his crimson robes and holding out his arm to carry the excess cloth.

“I shall retire for the night. Being disobeyed twice and then being called a cheater has me tired,” he muttered. “We didn’t get to discuss how we are going to stamp out the rebellious spark. That will have to be another time.”

“I assure you my lord that the Sons will be found and arrested before any would hope to dare rebel against your rule,” Crassus assured him.

Pompey huffed in disbelief. “Huh, by who? You? And what forces? Your slaves versus my legionaries?”

“It doesn’t take legionaries to stamp out such an insignificant flame. Maybe if you’re in charge of the stratagem it would. How many idiots does it take to find a small band?”

While Crassus and Pompey resumed their squabble, Samuel rose from his chair and brushed passed Arthur and the boy would feel a handkerchief land at his feet. The agent stepped over to Caesar and his young charge and bowed as he said, “I bid you good evening, my lord. It was an excellent match.”

Caesar waved him off. “Your time was wasted with our quarreling…”

“No my lord; I am a patient man and my time is not wasted in your matters. We will meet again when the time is right.”

Caesar nodded. “You do good work, Adams. Continue to do so.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Sam then turned to Crassus and bowed. “If you could my lord, send the boy by carriage when he is ready. I will have my servant bring you the payment.”

Crassus nodded and waved him off.

Lastly, he bowed to Pompey. “Sir, I look forward to seeing your match against Lord Crassus’s Robin.”

Pompey smirked. “You might as well stay home. It won’t even be a match.”

The banquet soon ended with all the important figures walking each other out and the banquet room to be cleaned by the kitchen staff.

Name: Edgar Allen Poe
Occupation: Librarian/Birdkeeper
Time/Date: Day One, Evening
Location: The cellar underneath the dining room.
Tagging: Arthur, Leo, Bram

Edgar sat in complete darkness, perched atop a massive cask that he had managed to laboriously scramble up with the help of a few other barrels as stepping stones, his ear pressed to the ceiling above him. The masonry was solid, and to anyone else the several feet of stone would have completely stopped any attempt at spying on the dining hall above. But Edgar wasn't anyone else.

There were seven hearts beating in the room above him, two of which he was able to recognize. One was Edgar's master, Crassus, and right nearby was his fellow slave Arthur - obviously, Crassus was keeping his favorite pet close to him, as always. Edgar didn't recognize the other guests, but from the position of the heartbeats he could roughly guess that three of them were dining with his master, and the remaining two were flanking one of the dinner guests.

That was a disappointment, to say the least. He didn't really care about whatever was going on at the banquet, truth be told - no, he'd snuck down to the cellar to spy on these proceedings for an entirely different reason. There was a mystery afoot in the manor, and if he'd never accomplish anything else in his wretched existence, Edgar would get to the bottom of it.

The mystery swirled around the nature of the most feared overseer in the Manor - Ivan Vasilyevich. Every slave in the manor knew better than to cross him, lest they 'disappear' in the night, never to be seen again. He was only seen at night, and what was most puzzling of all, Edgar had never heard his heartbeat. The young slave had supposed that maybe he had some way of masking it that had something to do with his penchant for high society, but the abundance of heartbeats in the room above seemed to belie that. Well, it had been a weak theory.

Whatever he was, he was a violent, fearful man, and Edgar had already made peace with the fact that he would never be punished for that - he had power and his victims didn't, and that was how the world worked. But even so, he had to know.

Something was happening up above. Two new heartbeats entered the room, one of which belonged to Overseer Gilles De Rais, the other to Leonidas, the enslaved pit fighter Edgar bunked opposite from in the slave's quarters. His heartbeat began to move erratically, as did one of the stranger's, both of them elevating and pounding with adrenaline. Clearly, his Master had found some use for a pugilist.

Gradually, Leon's heartbeat slowed, the gradual thumping of slumber. The poor boy had, evidently, met his match at last - such was life. Edgar reached into his ragged tunic and produced a matchbox he'd managed to swipe from one of the Overseers, striking a match and climbing down from his perch. It was a pale, flickering light, but it was enough for Edgar to see by, at least enough to be able to walk.

He was just creeping over to the stairs back to the servant's corners, prepared to chalk this night up as a defeat, when he heard the flutter of wings from behind him. His longtime friend and companion Usher set down on his shoulder and cooed into his ear, head tilting quizzically. Edgar had sent the bird to the kitchens, hoping that he might see or hear something pertaining to Overseer Vasilyevich, who often seemed to frequent the kitchens at this hour. "Usher," he whispered, "Did you hear anything?"

The raven opened his mouth and from it issued a rough approximation of Overseer De Rais' voice, “Wait… we’re not taking him there.”
The bird paused, and then changed tone to a burlier, deeper growl. Vasilyevich's voice. “What do you mean? Lord Crassus ordered us-”

De Rais again. “I know what he ordered, but I haven’t fed Corpseeater in a while.”

Vasilyevich. “If Lord Crassus finds out that you didn’t-”

De Rais. “Hush, he won’t find out. We will say that the boy’s wounds were so severe that he succumbed to them. Now come, there’s a place in the cellar where we will take him.”

Edgar furrowed his brow and patted the raven on the head. "Good bird. Curious..." A smirk became affixed on the boy's face. "Well now, Usher, you know I'm not overly attached to living in this world, but we shouldn't investigate alone... what do you suppose Bram is up to at this hour?"

The satisfaction of a mystery - what else could a young slave hope for, living in a world as wretched as this one?

Name: Bram Stoker
Occupation: Cook
Time/Date: Day One, Evening
Location: The kitchen
Tagging: Arthur, Leo, Edgar

The smell of boar haunted him. The kitchen had been a nightmare today. The God King was visiting, along with some others. Bram didn't care. Why should he. Every day was a nightmare. Bram knew there were beings lurking in the castle. One, he knew the identity of. That damnable Overseer. Sighing, Bram continued on with what he was doing. Cleaning. He was quiet, almost silent as he went about his task. He was in the far corner of the kitchen. All the others had been let go, and he had been tasked with finishing up. He noticed one of the overseers, De Rais, go by, with Leonidas, the fighter. They hadn't noticed him, giving him the opportunity to eavesdrop.

Bram listened to the conversation, hiding behind a stove. Corpseater? Is this the creature he felt. Alas, they had departed. Down to the basement. He would smuggle out some weapons, try and help Leonidas, if he had the power. But he continued on. A young boy, Bran felt fear while walking the halls alone, returning to the slave quarters. He was sneaking around, when he ran into Edgar

Name: Arthur Pendragon
Occupation: Crassus' Steward
Time/Date: Day One, Evening
Location: Banquet Hall/Library
Tagging: Leo, Merlin

The dinner was going how most events had gone since Arthur had officially became the Lord's steward. He stood by Lord Crassus' side, making sure his cup never got too empty. Arthur was surprised though when Emperor Caesar wished to purchase him for himself, and more surprised when his own Lord refused. What was it about him that made the two powerful men want him as their stewards? Perhaps they could see he was meant for greatness and each wanted him for their own ends.

The night became more interesting as the two men brought out fighters to win the right of ownership over Arthur. If he were allowed to admit it he would tell them he was honoured. Instead he just kept silent and made sure his Lord's cup didn't empty. The boy he knew as Leo gave him a strange look as he passed, and he also looked at the food. Some of the other slaves didn't like Arthur since they thought he was treated better because of his position. Maybe in some senses, but if Crassus ever ordered a beating for Arthur he could see the pleasure in the Overseers eyes when they got the chance to beat Crassus' special slave. Arthur made sure not to do anything that would warrant a beating very often.

As the boys fought Arthur couldn't help but think if this is what all powerful people did, just have others fight their battles for them. Arthur didn't like the thought of that, he'd much rather fight his own battles. In reality he'd rather not fight at all, but if it came down to it he'd want to fight rather than stand behind someone else. In the end Leo had lost, and Emperor Caesar told Arthur to come over and fill his cup. Arthur hesitated and looked to his Lord, who held up his arm to keep Arthur where he was. He accused Caesar of cheating, and looking at it Achilles was totally unscathed from the fight. Another competition was set up and Arthur was worried for Leo's fate before Sam Adams had offered to buy him. Lord Adams seemed a good man, Arthur wouldn't mind being his slave, he seemed like the kind of man who would treat his slaves with more respect.

Leo was taken away to be cleaned up and the rest of the dinner went by as Arthur would expect, political things he knew he could do nothing about, so why bother worrying about it. One interesting thing was Lord Adams dropped his handkerchief in front of Arthur, he picked it up and was about to offer it back but then he noticed there was something written on it, something Arthur could read no less. He hid the handkerchief away on his person for later. Once the dinner was over Arthur was dismissed as Lord Crassus retired to bed for the night. Arthur ran as fast as he could to the library, where he figured Merlin would be at this time. "MERLIN?!" He began shouting her name as soon as he was in the library, he knew no one else should be in here at this time. All the important people from the banquet had left from what Arthur saw, and he couldn't wait to tell Merlin what happened and about the secret note he got. "Merlin! Where are you?"

Name: Merlin Ambrosium
Occupation: Library Staff
Time/Date: Day One, Evening
Location: Library/Mansion's Corridors
Tagging: Arthur, Poe

The preparations for the banquet had been centered mostly on the dining hall and the feast itself, but Merlin had managed to get herself assigned to tyding and re-organizing the library, in case the master and his guests wished to converse in the privacy of the silent study-hall. Merlin had been left inside the library, alone, working on the final arrangements on the study, and would, as the overseer had stated, stay there until the laberinthic room was spotless and ready to receive the lords.

And alas, she was still there, not because there was work to be done, for the hall had been rearranged to hold a meeting with perfect comfort, but rather because this was where Merlin felt the most at home, not to mention surrounded by books while being unsupervised. After the overseer had left to assist the master at the banquet, and Poe, having finished the task at hand, had taken his leave, Merlin had crawled into a secluded corner between the bookshelves and curled up with a particular book in hand, one which not only lacked a title on it's cover, but whose content Merlin found almost familiar, despite being unable to read it.

She was holding the book open on her lap, staring at the pages, hoping something would stick in her brain, when the sound of her name startled her into the afterlife and back.
-"MERLIN?!" It was Arthur shouting her name wildly into the emptyness of the library.
-"Merlin! Where are you?" he kept inquiring openly, so sure that she was there that she'd almost be insulted by the implied predictiveness of her actions. That is, if she wasn't painfully aware of her solitary tendencies.

Merlin shut the book with the most delicate of touches and carefully placed it on the topmost shelf to her right, a seldom visited spot amongst the romance novels that somehow had made their way into the library, perhaps the guilty pleasure of one of the overseers.
-"Shhhh!" she shushed him from behind the line of books, not a loud shush, a mere whisper that would be appropriate for their current locale.
-"Over hither, Arthur." she said as she pushed the row of books to either side, sicking her head out between the books, chin on the ground, eyes looking up at him.
-"What has occurred?" she questioned. It was a rare occasion when they managed to talk casually, and usually it involved some sort of orders from the overseers or the master. But by then the banquet should've been over, and with it the activities for the day, she reasoned. So what could little Arthur require?

Name: Arthur Pendragon/Merlin Ambrosium
Occupation: Crassus' Steward/Library Staff
Time/Date: Day One, Evening
Location: Library
Tagging: Leo, Arthur, Merlin

Arthur jumped slightly, then realized that was dumb. He should have been expecting Merlin's voice, nonetheless it still startled him. He looked down at Merlin, poking her head through the bookshelf, "Nice corner you have here." He sat down so their faces were about the same level. "It's really too bad you weren't at the banquet, now you have to listen to me tell you all about it," he chuckled before recounting the events of the night to her quickly. He may have over emphasized how much both men wanted him as their steward, but it was his story, and he'd tell it how he wanted.

"So Leo got carted off to be cleaned up I guess, since Lord Crassus sold him off, and that Sam Adams guy dropped a note for me." He pulled out the handkerchief and read what was on it to her, "When the owl hoots, follow the sound to liberty. Bring all who you can with you." He handed the kerchief to Merlin so she could see it and said, "and before you ask, it's not written in Arn, it's some other language that I actually do understand."

Merlin listened attentively as Arthur narrated the events of the night, casually flipping through the pages of her book as she waited for the big reveal that indubitably accompanied this most urgent errant. Her chin finally propped back up and away from the shelf where she'd been resting it, the appearance of the handkerchief before her being more than enough to send a shock through her entire body.

"A secret note in an unknown language. One which fate would have you understand without foreknowledge?" Merlin mumbled softly, captured in thought "You've made aquantainces with powerful men, Arthur." she concluded, nodding and staring directly at Arthur and then back at the handkerchief in her hands. "Has your mind been made?" she questioned Arthur's plans, unsure of his new friend's true intents.

"Well that's part of why I wanted to talk with you," Arthur admitted to her, "I mean, we both know you're smarter than me. I wanted to know what you made of the whole thing." Arthur looked up to the ceiling and thought back to the dinner, "Sam Adams seems like a good man, he only tried to buy Leo after he thought Lord Crassus was going to have him killed. I think it might be genuine," he looked back at Merlin with a shine in his eyes, "can you imagine it? Being free?"

"I've seen glimpses of a life of freedom in a miriad occasions," Merlin spoke slow and steady "but never did it seem so close." Merlin looked to her right, out the window of the library. "I shall trust your judgement Arthur," she nodded with determination in her eyes, "but let it rest in your mind: the fates of us all lay with you." She offered the handkerchief back, a smile in her face as she looked out at the young boy. "I am certain you shall lead us to freedom, Arthur. But for now, you should return, lest the Overseers suspect something."

With that she snuck back into the hidden corner of the library, to do away with the evidence of her prescence and wait for an inconspicuous time to return to the slave lodges.

"Thanks Merlin, don't be too much longer, I'll see you later," Arthur got up and made his way back to the slave quarters. Typical Merlin, she was more like an ancient oracle most of the time than a 12 year old girl. Telling him about his fate and all that. Although he had made up his mind, he would trust the note and gather whoever he could to escape when the signal was given.

Edgar crept through the halls as silently as he was able, careful to peer around every corner and stopping to listen to every noise. Ordinarily he would not have felt the need to be so cautious, his eyesight in the dark being better than any man's - but he was not so sure that Vaselyevich was a man.

But it was not Vaselyevich that Edgar encountered creeping through the hallways, but another slave, the fearful young child named Bram. The boy was a bit of a coward, but he was a good friend to Edgar, and there wasn't anyone the would-be investigator would rather have seen just then. "Ah, there you are, Bram. Just who I was looking for." In spite of himself, the boy smiled.

Then, Edgar furrowed his brow. Bram worked in the kitchens, the same place Usher had spied the two Overseers dragging off Leo. Perhaps that was why the normally cowardly boy was creeping around the dark like this. "Bram," he said, "Did you see Rais and Vasilyevich carry Leo off? They're going to kill him, unless we do something to stop it. Probably even then, to be honest, and also us. We have very little chance of succeeding where I'm going. How about it, friend?" The slave gave a wry smile and spread his hands.

Gilles and Ivan were quiet and careful as they moved. Leo was like a limp doll in Ivan’s arms, his one dangling arm swinging, and knuckles red from abuse. His head hung back over the overseer’s arm as the two briskly made their way down the corridor into the kitchen. When they entered the kitchen, both men stopped as Gilles quickly swept the area with his eyes. He hadn’t seen anyone not even the boy behind the stove [Bram].

“What is this Corpseater?” Ivan asked curiously.

Gilles pressed a finger to his lips as he harshly shushed the man, “SSSH! Do not speak its name here. Even the cracks have ears. Come, I will explain.”

The two went into the cellar and Gilles once again looked over across the massive barrels of wine that had kept the manor well-supplied. Strangely, no servant was present, but then he assumed that they had all been tasked to clean the banquet room. The feast had barely been touched by the visitors and knowing the starving slaves, they would probably try to violate a law. It just meant more food for his pet.

They descended the wooden and creaky steps and traversed the dusty stone floor over to a shelf lined with bottles, chemicals, and other concoctions a chemist would probably recognize. Walking next to the shelf, he pressed his shoulder against it and pushed it aside, leaving just enough space for him to slip into the mysterious passageway that had appeared. Ivan handed Leonidas off to Gilles and then slipped through before he slid the shelf closed behind him.

The passage was dark and smelled of mildew. Unbeknownst to Gilles, Ivan could see through the darkness just as well as he could through a lit room, and he found a torch and some matches on the ground that he figured Gilles had left for his return trips.

“There should be some matches and a torch at your feet,” Gilles informed, confirming Ivan’s speculations.

Ivan bent over to pick up the torch and matches and lit the torch, holding it aloft as they continued their journey.

Ivan frowned when he remembered that Gilles still hadn’t told him what this Corpseater was. “Well?”

Gilles rendered an excited smile to Ivan, his eyes twinkling with a withheld secret. “Just a little more, and you’ll see.”

When they neared the end of the tunnel, a thick darkness overwhelmed the other end, and from it, they heard the hiss of a metal chain. The chain rattled and clanked and then the low moans of a creature (or had it been a human?) were heard. The creature moaned and groaned as though it were in pain, and upon noticing the light of the torch, it released bone-chilling shriek:

EIYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The noise startled Leo awake, and fearfully, he glanced about, peering up at Gilles, who had been enough of a reason to escape. He squirmed and kicked in the overseer’s arms, forcing Gilles to hug him against his chest to hold him still.

“You little devil!” Gilles growled. “Ivan, get over here and help me with him!”

Ivan set the torch down and quickly strode over to Gilles to help him subdue Leonidas. He grasped the boy by his arms, while Gilles clutched his ankles until a heel struck him in the gut. Gilles folded over with a girk! as Ivan grasped Leonidas by his throat and kept a vice-like grip on his bicep. Leo froze as he dangled an inch off the floor in Ivan’s grip. His hands felt so cold and he could feel the iron-like strength he had on him. With eyes wide in fear, Leo didn’t move as Ivan smirked.

“That’s right boy, I’ll snap your little neck,” he threatened.

Gilles was still leaned over, clutching his gut and through the brown strands of his tousled hair, he was glaring daggers at Leonidas.

EIYAAAAH! EIYAAAAAAH!

The shrieks came again and Leo glanced into the darkness as chills raced up and down his spine.

“I’m going to enjoy watching Corpseater feast on your bones,” Gilles hissed before he painfully walked over to the torch and picked it up to shine its golden light over the darkness.

The darkness fled, revealing a creature who was pale and thin with elongated arms and legs that bent outwards. It was a woman, easily told by her exposed breasts. Strips of clothing that had once covered her were at her hands and feet like bedding as she stared through white and shrunk eyes at the men and boy who stood before her. Her long, black hair veiled her face, parting around a single unblinking eye. Her abdomen had transformed into an enormous black bulb, similar to a spider’s backside.

Ivan’s eyes were even wide with shock when he gazed upon the creature who nested amongst a pile of bones and torn clothes. She stank of death and feces. It was apparent that Gilles hadn’t been cleaning her.

“This is Corpseater,” Gilles introduced with a wave of a hand and smile. “Or should I say…Arachne…”

“EIYAAAAH!” the spider woman seemed to scream in rage at the name. She tossed her head violently her black hair whipping about revealing her mouth that was stained copper with old blood.

“She doesn’t really like that name anymore, so I call her Corpseater.”

Ivan blinked. “Where…where on earth did you find such a creature and…how…?”

“Corpseater was a servant here at Crassus manor. She was the most beautiful of women who spent her hours at the loom, weaving rugs, clothing—whatever you could think of she could weave it. She was quite the talented spinner…”

Gilles turned to the spider, his eyelids lowering and face softening as he recalled the intimate memory.

“We fell in love. I gave her my heart and soul…” His face then contorted with anger. “And this bitch dashed it all on the ground! I wanted her and she refused me. She fought me and then I forced her to love me! I told her that she would never love anyone else and so I locked her away here.”

Ivan stared at Gilles as though he had been much more of a frightening monster than him. To think a human could be so evil. He wasn’t sure if a human held the torch or was it a devil in disguise.

“You raped her,” Ivan accused with a sadistic smirk.

Gilles whirled on Ivan, his eyes wide in terror as though the man’s accusation had stabbed at a guilty gouge in his conscience.

“No! Never! She wanted it. We both wanted it. She just couldn’t make up her mind so I helped her. She then started to hate me…The ungrateful bitch…”

Gilles turned to Arachne and screamed, “I gave you everything!”

EIYAAAH!

Leo frowned and squirming in Ivan’s grip, he growled, “You’re just as much of a monster as she is. You’re the one who should be chained!”

Gilles threw back his head and rested a hand upon his hip as he laughed into the air. “Bite your tongue, boy. Don’t rush to your death.”

He continued his story after recovering from his emotional outburst, “I kept her chained here until I was able to come up with some sort of story about her disappearance. I told Lord Crassus that she had drowned in a river when attempting to flee from the manor and that had been enough to convince him. The lord doesn’t care about his slaves. All they are are commodities to him. Easily bought, sold, and replaced when broken. That’s why you’re here boy. When you lost that fight, you became worthless trash. It was Lord Crassus who ordered your execution.”

Leonidas was silent. He had no words to use as weapons to defend himself. Even if his adversary had been inhuman, the fact was that he lost and the loser often was executed. Frowning at his defeatist thoughts, Leo bore his teeth in anger at himself. He had made so many friends, and he had been hoping to at least spend more time with them a little longer. He wanted to grow up and become stronger so that he could escape the manor with everyone. Even in his last moments when his mind was swelling with negative thoughts, he didn’t cry. No; his nose wrinkled and he stared viciously at Gilles and the beast that he had on his leash. He was going to fight until the end. No one would know of his struggle, but that was okay. He was never really the type to imagine a pathetic death. No; he would make his death glorious!

Ivan remained silent on the manner about what Lord Crassus had actually said, and asked, “So she wasn’t always a monster…then how did she become this way?”

Gilles chuckled. “Well, I took a carriage to Aiwren when the food stores needed to be restocked. Let’s just say I did some shopping of my own and I bought a god fruit that was being sold by an old hermit. I was curious. I didn’t expect it to be real. I brought the fruit back here to test it on my dear. I knew that she must have been starving being alone and locked up here. I used her as a guinea pig to test whether the god fruit had been real or fake, and voila. Do you see? It had been real after all, and if I had eaten it, then I might have been transformed into such a disgusting beast.”

“Or a god like Caesar…” Ivan mentioned.

“Huh, I wouldn’t dare play with such a hope. Caesar was very fortunate….Now then…”

Gilles grinned at Leonidas and waved his hand for Ivan to bring him closer. “Bring him here, Corpseater is hungry. Aren’t you my dear?”

The spider woman grunted and panted, tugging against her chain and reaching out desperately with her hand claws. Ivan crept over with Leo who was squirming and shaking his head, trying to get his jaw free of the overseer’s icy grip.

Drool rolled in crystal rivulets from Corpseater’s mouth and parting her lips wider were two black appendages that unraveled from her cheeks like fingers. At the tip of each slimy finger was a fang that dripped with beads of yellow venom.

Name: Robin
Occupation: Hunter
Location: Slave chambers
Tagging: @Holy Soldier @Framing A Moose

Robin in sitting on his cot with a small cloth sling in his hands. The boy resembles the sling; thin, frail, looks ready to fall apart. His eyes were glued to a fixed point on the far side of the room as he slowly loaded the sling with an acorn.

Robin stretched out his arm with the loaded sling and started rolling his wrist to get the sling spinning.

"Hey Joan, do ya think I can hit that fly from here?"

Robin stops swinging his sling at the sound of footsteps approaching the slave quarters. He very quickly tucks the sling away into the waist of his ragged pants and grips the acorn tightly in his hand to keep it hidden.

With his bed being one of the closest to the door, he was able to hear the two overseers as they passed by. A chill ran down Robin's spine as he heard Gilles mention of the name corpseeater. His heart started beating rapidly at the thought of losing another friend.

"Joan, I'll be back in a bit. I'm just going on a quick hunt."

He gave her an uneasy smile before he snuck out to follow the two overseers and Leonidas as quietly and quickly as he could.

His unease had begun to grow when he followed them to the cellar. With how quiet it was down in the cellar, Robin had to resort to his hunting ways to stealthily follow his "prey".

He kept a safe distance away when Gilles opened the secret door to a hidden room and Robin made sure to see how to get in.

Then he waited.

But not long, just long enough for the overseers to walk away from the hidden doorway before Robin tried his hand at it. It took only a few shoves for the boy to move the shelf far enough to slip past, but he did not dare slide it back in fear of making too much noise.

As he followed the faint torch light, Robin stopped to gather a couple small bits of stone that were the right size for his sling and froze mid-crouch as the most hideous inhuman screech echoed from further down the passageway.

Robin gathered up enough courage to take out his sling and slide a stone into the nook and start winding it. He then slowly made his way to what could be his own death.

Robins first sight of the seen was Leonidas struggling in Ivan's grasp and Gilles yelling at the most horrific beast Robin had ever laid eyes upon. He froze again. They were going to feed Leo to that beast. He needed help. Robin was the only one who could do something and yet the boy was frozen in fear. But his hand was still swinging the loaded sling. Once Robin realized what he was still doing he shook himself from his paralysis and took aim at the beast's gaping mouth. Just before he let the stone fly he muttered to the stone, "Fly true, please..." and he whipped the stone at the beast's open mouth as hard and fast as he could muster.

Name: Shaka Zulu

Occupation: Pit Fighter/Huntsman

Time/Date: Day One/Evening

Tagging: @Holy Soldier@ShaggyDoo0

The day had been long spent gathering supplies for grand feast to come that evening, apparantly the Emporer had decided to grace the Crassus' Manor with the glory of his presence. If Shaka were to be honest with himself, he never saw much about Caeser that impressed him. He knew one did not simply grant oneself the title of emporer without having done something to earn it, but Shaka was not impressed. After spending much time gathering the supplies Shaka was left to his own devices, deciding to go down to the slave quarters and spend some time with Iwisa, his pet dung beetle.

After a while Shaka felt himself settle into slumber in which he stayed for who knows how long. The sudden sound of someone expiditiously leaving the quarters shook Shaka awake as he watched as one of the other huntsman, the one named Robin he thought, walk through the door of the slave quarters. Normally Shaka could care less about the comings and going of the other slaves but something in the boys movement dipicted some sort of urgency, something that was little seen around the manor.

Shaka quickly put Iwisa back into his case and silently followed after the boy making sure to keep his distence in order to gain a better understanding of what was occuring within the manor. As Shaka came closer to the huntsman as he apparently stalked his prey, being the two Overseers hold a fellow slave, Leonidas if his memory served, and some bulbos monster that kept exuding the most hideous screams from inside a dark and dank chamber. Until now Shaka hadn't realized the closeness of the world around him, he could almost feel the stone creeping in on him and his breath quicken into shortened gasps almost.

This was not the time and place to be having these feelings, Shaka reminded himself, as he took up a lower position beneath Robin. Without a word Shaka signaled for Robin to use his sling to strike at Gilles and indicating that he would go for Ivan. As he looked over his target Shaka began quickly going over everything that he would be able to use against; the man was large, his strength and ruthlessness was legendary, prolonged combat would not end favorably for him. At the moment the man's attention was focused on containing Leonidas which was good Shaka had the element of surprise and once the other pugilist was free he could aid in taking Ivan. A quick shot to his knees, back of the knee enough to drop his guard enough to loose the fighter.

In a flash Shaka sprang from his hiding place and quickly slid into the back of the Overseer's knees, and he was hoping that this would work.

Leonidas stared in horror at the strange appendages that unfurled from Corpseater’s maw. She was a creature out of a nightmare. Was that what the god fruit made? Nightmares? Her bony fingers were inches from his face, and within Ivan’s icy grip, all he could do was helplessly wait for his face to be grasped within her starving grip until a rock flew through the air and a loud pop of stone hitting bone caused the beast to recoil with an agonized scream.

Gilles and Ivan froze fearfully before they turned their heads to look back up the path. Two more rocks, both aimed for the faces of Gilles and Ivan, struck their skulls with two loud pops! Naturally, their hands rushed to the pained spot on their faces, which resulted in Leonidas being released. In a frightened scramble, Leonidas quickly crawled as far away from the hideous spider monster and toward his friends as he could.

Shaka had seemed to come out of nowhere. The dark-skinned pugilist had the shadows to his advantage as he slid into the back of Ivan’s knees. The overseer cried out in a noise that was a mixture between a cry of anger and a grunt of pain. He struck the floor, and Leonidas turned, leaping into the air with his arm raised and brought the wedge of his elbow dropping against the overseer’s throat. The overseer coughed and sputtered, recoiling from Leonidas to curl into a ball with his hand about his throat.

Gilles stared at the three of them, eyes wide in shock that they had been able to down Ivan so easily. He was terrified. He couldn’t let them escape. Not alive!

In an attempt to sound sure and confident in his most apprehensive state, Gilles laughed almost maniacally at the three: “Look Corpseater, more food. There are three little bugs for you to snack on.”

Gilles raced over to Arachne’s chain while she was still clutching her stinging face, and he released it from the wall. Her freedom rang on a resonating ping! The spider woman lowered her hands, her eyes wide in shock. She reached back and grasped her chain, tugging it to feel that it was no longer bound to the wall.

“Go my dear, eat to your heart’s content!” Gilles encouraged.

Arachne looked at the three slaves, seeing that they were only children. As ravenous as she had seemed before, there seemed to be a sense of intelligence in her glistening eyes as they grew moist with tears. The woman looked to Gilles and her many legs shifted, turning her enormous body to face him. Gilles instantly paled.

“W…What are you doing?” he questioned in terror.

Arachne started to creep toward him, her fangs sliding from her lips.

“No! You can’t! You can’t do this! Arachne….please…” said Gilles pathetically. He dropped to his knees and held out his arms. “I love you.”



The spider woman pounced Gilles so swift, his back instantly snapped in half, folding him backwards. With her numerous arms and legs, she began tearing apart his limbs as she crunched and slurped at his body and juices.

Shaka, Leo, and Robin would feel a gust pass over them before noticing that Ivan had vanished and was no longer lying where they had last seen him.

Leonidas was engrossed in the scene of Corpseater devouring Gilles. He had never seen anything like it, and for a child, it normally would have been too much, but for some reason…he wasn’t afraid. Had Arachne remembered who her true enemy was? She could have done what Gilles had commanded and killed all three of them. Leonidas couldn't help but pity her.

Name: Robin
Occupation: Hunter
Location: cellar
Tagging: @Holy Soldier @Archangel89

Robin watched as the scene before him unraveled from him and Shaka interfering. Fighting was not his best skill so he stayed back and provided cover while Shaka and Leo did their thing.

Before he knew what was happening, Leo and Shaka had stepped away while the beast had Giles backed into a corner. Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Robin watched in shock as the beast began to devour Giles. Barely shaking free from his paralysis, Robin rushed over to his friends and tried to pull them out before the beast turned on them.

If it wasn’t for Robin’s tugging, then Leonidas may not have ever been freed from his transfixed state. He turned to flee the tunnel with the archer and Shaka. Upon emerging from the secret cellar passage, the three children would find a group of overseers standing at the top of the steps armed with muskets. Ivan was standing amongst them, the man who had probably rallied them together. He stared down at the three children, not shouting any accusations. The man was blending into the crowd as though the situation hadn’t involved him.

Lord Crassus arrived moments after dressed in red night robes. He pushed his way passed the men and was surprised to find Leonidas still looking roughed up and unpresentable. He also noticed that Shaka, his other fine pugilist, and Robin, his best hunter, were down there.

“What is going on here?” the lord irritably questioned. He knew already that he had one insubordinate overseer who couldn’t follow his instructions, but why were three of his slaves gathered in the cellar?

The shelf that blocked the passage, shook with a loud, startling BANG! Leonidas whirled around in fright. She had followed them? The overseers gasped in startle and Lord Crassus scowled. A pale, slender arachnid leg slipped between the shelf and the wall, pushing the shelf away from it as a creature with a maw red and dripping in blood squeezed through.

EIYAAAAAH! Arachne screamed.

“What the blazes!” an overseer exclaimed.

“It’s a monster!” another yelled.

Lord Crassus was stunned and could not look away. He…he recognized it, but he didn’t understand what had happened to her or how it had happened. Arachne’s wide eyes peered up at the overseers who looked down at her with disgusted grimaces. She saw the look in the lord’s eyes. He had recognized her and she held out her arms to him, wanting to scream: Please! for his mercy, but instead, the most dreadful scream left her lips:



Lord Crassus’s lip arched in abhorrence. “Kill it.”

Arachne gasped before musket fire filled the cellar. She screamed as bullets seared through her flesh. The giant spider slumped onto her side, the holes in her carapace weeping with a dark, rosy fluid. Coughing up blood and shaking, she raised a clawed hand up to Lord Crassus in mercy.

The lord removed a flintlock from the hip of one of his overseers, extended his arm to aim the gun at her face, and fired. Her forehead emitted a crimson spark and the spider slumped over, her body naturally turning onto its back and her numerous legs curling, practically shriveling, into the spider’s death position.

Leonidas was speechless. He didn’t know what was going on anymore.

Returning the flintlock to the overseer’s holster, Lord Crassus ordered: “Burn that thing whatever it is. Send the slaves to their quarters. I’ll want an explanation in the morning. It is too late to be awake right now.”

The lord turned and retired back to his chambers.

The overseers looked down upon Shaka, Leonidas, and Robin.

“I’ll handle the corpse,” Ivan volunteered.

“Oi, get up here you three!” one of the overseers ordered.

---

That late evening in the slave quarters, the three were allowed to bathe and tend to any wounds they had received, and then they were sent to their bunks. Leonidas sat on his knees on the lower bunk beneath Shaka, staring into the dark as he watched the whole ordeal play out again in his head. He had seen so many horrible things that he didn’t think he could sleep. When the overseers had told him that he was sold, for some reason, he couldn’t wrap his brain around it. Hadn’t he been already sold to Crassus?

“Are you guys awake?” Leonidas called into the dark.

He got in return, SSSsshhh! from several other slaves.

The boy merely frowned and expressed his thoughts: “I can’t sleep. Ivan got away with everything. What if he tries to kill us in our sleep?”