Post by Rao Devoth on Apr 23, 2008 5:55:55 GMT -5
The loud, insufferable stomping of the crowd above them made the world seem as if it was collapsing all around them. Red dust fell atop their heads, mixing with the beads of sweats due to the intense heat of the day. The crowd continued their chanting as one of the matches began, though those underneath the stadium could not watch; only listen to the sounds of combat. The thunderous applause came suddenly to the ears of all below; there must have been a killing blow or an excellent exchange of parries and dodges. Then it would quiet down once more, only to get louder as the fight grew more intense. Rao could not see the fight, yet for some reason or another, he could sense what was happening. He could see the fight as it was happening, despite the large wooden gate in front of him.
He stood in the entrance of the large gateway, inside of the large room where the prisoner gladiators were kept. The room was dirty and smelled horrible. The walls, the floor, even most of the benches and table held blood on them. Some dried and some fresh off of another kill that had just happened. Men who had fought earlier groaned in pain at their wounds, but they were in the big time now. The largest arena on the planet of Rattatak it was and is the culprit of many deaths. The Cauldron it was called, due to its size and holding capacity.
His long white hair sat slightly below his shoulders, straight as arrows the white locks hung. His face was tan from days spent fighting in the hot, arid weather of the planet. He wore brown leather leggings and black boots with large buckles on them. His muscular body wore no armor save a large pauldron of steel on his right shoulder. Black gloves embraced his hands, but did not move, only sat still at his sides. A beautifully crafted black katana, which sat in a black steel scabbard, was in his left hand.
“You are fighting four today,”
The voice coming from behind him, it was the voice of a woman. Rao would not turn to her, only keep his focus ahead.
“Why do you allow Azarith to do this to you, even here he puts you up against odds only men marked for death would receive?”
She pleaded almost to him it seemed, but he still would not face her. Four men were a tough fight, no matter how skilled one is. Only Rao could hold such confidence amongst his fellow prisoners.
“Perhaps I am marked for death then.”
His voice was calm and gentle, something he was often mocked for having. For this was his nature, a strange one, but nonetheless, his. The woman, Essa, seemed frustrated and walked away. They were lovers, of sorts, if love was even allowed to spoken of in such a place.
The crowd roared as a voice came over the loud speaker, announcing who the winner was. The bodies of the other gladiators, ones who were not prisoners or slaves were taken elsewhere. The dead prisoners were taken away and never seen again. Rao knew that the man who he watched leave the large room would not be returning.
The gates slowly swung opened as the light from the sun brought things into perspective. The announcer came over the speaker again.
“Now, the match you have all been waiting for. The last two years he has gone through the many arenas and fought the best, undefeated after over five hundred matches, The Demon Shadow!”
Many thought the place would soon collapse do to the noise and chanting
He stood in the entrance of the large gateway, inside of the large room where the prisoner gladiators were kept. The room was dirty and smelled horrible. The walls, the floor, even most of the benches and table held blood on them. Some dried and some fresh off of another kill that had just happened. Men who had fought earlier groaned in pain at their wounds, but they were in the big time now. The largest arena on the planet of Rattatak it was and is the culprit of many deaths. The Cauldron it was called, due to its size and holding capacity.
His long white hair sat slightly below his shoulders, straight as arrows the white locks hung. His face was tan from days spent fighting in the hot, arid weather of the planet. He wore brown leather leggings and black boots with large buckles on them. His muscular body wore no armor save a large pauldron of steel on his right shoulder. Black gloves embraced his hands, but did not move, only sat still at his sides. A beautifully crafted black katana, which sat in a black steel scabbard, was in his left hand.
“You are fighting four today,”
The voice coming from behind him, it was the voice of a woman. Rao would not turn to her, only keep his focus ahead.
“Why do you allow Azarith to do this to you, even here he puts you up against odds only men marked for death would receive?”
She pleaded almost to him it seemed, but he still would not face her. Four men were a tough fight, no matter how skilled one is. Only Rao could hold such confidence amongst his fellow prisoners.
“Perhaps I am marked for death then.”
His voice was calm and gentle, something he was often mocked for having. For this was his nature, a strange one, but nonetheless, his. The woman, Essa, seemed frustrated and walked away. They were lovers, of sorts, if love was even allowed to spoken of in such a place.
The crowd roared as a voice came over the loud speaker, announcing who the winner was. The bodies of the other gladiators, ones who were not prisoners or slaves were taken elsewhere. The dead prisoners were taken away and never seen again. Rao knew that the man who he watched leave the large room would not be returning.
The gates slowly swung opened as the light from the sun brought things into perspective. The announcer came over the speaker again.
“Now, the match you have all been waiting for. The last two years he has gone through the many arenas and fought the best, undefeated after over five hundred matches, The Demon Shadow!”
Many thought the place would soon collapse do to the noise and chanting