- Round 1 -
Septimus raised his arms high and yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling to be heard against a backdrop of roars.
“BRENNUS, WARRIOR OF THE ICENI!”
The mob erupted, its most recent hero jogging out of the entrance at one end of the roughly 150 foot oval arena. His bare-feet scuffed up sand as he raised both arms high, his spear and shield shaking as he revelled in the adoration of the crowd. It was the most powerful of drugs.
His naked torso was adorned with blue woad paint in spiralling patterns and his hair had been spiked up platinum blonde in the fashion of his people. With only wool trousers for protection he seemed mad to enter combat, but the warrior knew his skill and the grace of the gods would protect him. They had so far. Regardless, if that defence failed he could always fall back to the longsword at his left hip.
“Hoo-ah.” He yelled, reaching a point around twenty feet from the centre of the arena, his eyes fixed on the entrance his foe would be entering from.
Septimus was still yelling against the crowd, but now they hushed in anticipation as he pointed towards the metal gates of the opposing side. “His opponent… Caspus, the Dreaded Spartan!” The crowd roared again in appreciation, the legendary martial prowess of the Spartans not unheard of even in Rome.
Brennus waited patiently, a snarl on his youthful face, ready for the time to shed blood.
Septimus raised his arms high and yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling to be heard against a backdrop of roars.
“BRENNUS, WARRIOR OF THE ICENI!”
The mob erupted, its most recent hero jogging out of the entrance at one end of the roughly 150 foot oval arena. His bare-feet scuffed up sand as he raised both arms high, his spear and shield shaking as he revelled in the adoration of the crowd. It was the most powerful of drugs.
His naked torso was adorned with blue woad paint in spiralling patterns and his hair had been spiked up platinum blonde in the fashion of his people. With only wool trousers for protection he seemed mad to enter combat, but the warrior knew his skill and the grace of the gods would protect him. They had so far. Regardless, if that defence failed he could always fall back to the longsword at his left hip.
“Hoo-ah.” He yelled, reaching a point around twenty feet from the centre of the arena, his eyes fixed on the entrance his foe would be entering from.
Septimus was still yelling against the crowd, but now they hushed in anticipation as he pointed towards the metal gates of the opposing side. “His opponent… Caspus, the Dreaded Spartan!” The crowd roared again in appreciation, the legendary martial prowess of the Spartans not unheard of even in Rome.
Brennus waited patiently, a snarl on his youthful face, ready for the time to shed blood.