As the condemned mingle, bicker and argue, the distinct sound of an opening gate could be heard above all else. Daylight poured forth from the stairs, the way to the Arena was open and beckoned as if death itself held his arms wide to embrace them. Tentatively the prisoners made their way to the stairs with what weapons they found. Crude things, quality steel not to be wasted on those already proclaimed dead. The daylight was blinding to their eyes having been adjusted to the dark depths of the dungeons and the pit. Each step felt like an eternity as they ascended. Once through the doorway they found themselves standing on the blood stained sand of the Arena floor and all around them in the stands stood citizens of the Imperial City.
"LAAADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! WELCOME.. TO THE ARENA!!!" the announcer shouted. "Today we have a special occasion. Look now to the sands and behold the vilest of criminals from across Cyrodiil!!" the masses shouted, cursed and berated the prisoners. Some even being so bold as to throw food and rocks their way.
"Good people, do not let their foul appearance dissuade you from your entertainment!! For it is on these sands that these wretched souls will breathe their last breath and trouble the Empire no more!! I present to you, the YELLOW TEAM!!!" The whole of the arena stood and cheered, whistling, hooting and clapping as the gate on the opposite end rose and out came the Gladiators of Yellow Team. Fourteen in all of various races wielding weapons of much higher quality than the shoddy iron provided for the prisoners. One man exited behind the gladiators, a blonde headed Imperial wearing the rags of a prisoner.
The Yellow gladiators all raised their weapons high and soaked in the cheers. One stepped forward, a large Nord wielding a Dwarven Claymore. "People of the Imperial City! Do you seek entertainment!? Do you seek blood?! Do.. you.. seek… JUSTICE?!?!" The crowd roared with every word. "Then you shall have it all!" Further cheer erupted form the crowd as the gladiators faced the prisoners and readied their weapons, two spell casters could be seen readying destructive magic and an archer knocked an arrow to his bow aimed for the large male Orc.
"LET THE BLOODLETTING, BEGIN!!" the yellow team charged and the archer let fly his arrow.
Through it all, Dralith Da'seloth watched from the stands but remained silent. He sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before him. His two Akaviri Katanas were sheathed and within arms reach leaning against the balcony rail. Jauffre and Martin had been skeptical about this and outright disapproved but he knew better. Some of the most able bodied men and women could be found in a dungeon. Dralith himself was proof of this. The hero of Kvatch would sit and wait for the battle to unfold. If they died then so be it but if they managed to survive this ordeal.. perhaps they could be convinced to join the cause.