Blood on the Sands - IC

The excitement of the crowds fills the bricked dungeon beneath.

RAH!RAH!RAH!RAH!RAH!RAH!

The thump with each cheer reverberates the walls.

Every so often, a great and long cheer raises, and you know that someone has just died.

The bricks were black, not the black from paint, but from filth and disease. No matter how many times they clean the chambers with fire, the walls oozed with sickness. The arched ceilings had seen thousands come and go, and that was just in the last few years.
The only light came from the exit, guarded by heavy bone bars and the sentries who protected them. The holding dungeon was crowded, some of these prisoners you have met before, some were not.

Another great roar goes up, and you look towards the exit. Who would be next to die for the crowds?

Your thoughts turn to happier days, before you were taken to this horrible place. Just how long had you been here? Why were you here? Who deserved to die for this atrocity?

Did it matter anymore? In mere moments, you would be forced into that light, and there you would either kill or die.
Would you be forced to kill the others in the holding area? the very same people whom you had shared a disgusting gruel with this very same morning? Or would fed to some horrible and ferocious beast?

The wait was almost as deadly as the act itself.....

All the city states of Athas were distinct in culture. However, the one thing they all shared culturally was a love for the games. The most common was the gladiatorial fights.

It was the last place Apollon wanted to be in. This was the realm of the Half-Giants, Thri-Kreen, and Muls. It was not a place for a human performer... a performer to those that didn't know any better. Apollon was as good with a blade as he was with his lute. He was a master of the show and espionage. He was hardly a fighter compared to the others in the holding area.

He wanted out. Not just get away from the death awaiting him in the arena for but for revenge. Unfinished business he had for those that put him here.

Apollon knew he needed help to accomplish this. He wasn't the only one who wanted to be here. Hell, no one did.

He had already come to know a few others here. Igto, the Half-Giant; Throd, the Mul; and Hakka, the Thri-Kreen. Those three he trusted the most to have the same desire as him to break from these cages. It was only with them he had shared his wishes with. The wish to escape.

He waited in the back of the holding cell playing out a little beat on his legs. Today a plan was to be made. All he needed was for the others to come to him. He wouldn't force them. He wasn't their master. They were free to make their own chooses.

Throd stood defiantly in the centre of the cell, his bronzed muscled arms crossed. He waited patiently for what was to come. He found himself a slave once again although this time in dire circumstances.

While he waited he mused if escaping two years ago had been worth it. He was born a slave as most Mul are. The majority of Mul were put to task in either the labour camps or as gladiators. He had been lucky and shown aptitude in crafting weapons and armour, he had become an artisan for his master and had a good a life as a slave could expect.

It wasn't planned but he became caught up in a slave revolt and subsequent escape, they had fled into the desert and scattered. It had been foolish, no food or water had been taken. There was pursuit but the Mul's legendary stamina served Throd well, the pursuit called off with them perhaps content that the sun would do their work for them.

Lost and close to death Throd was saved by an elven hermit, an earth cleric. There was a cool cave to convalesce.

He found the elf to be tolerable and had even started to enjoy his companionship towards the end. He' spent two years under his tutelage learning the ways of the earth and why it was important that it was preserved. They had been travelling the desert when a raiding party took them, elven bandits looking for slaves to sell. They of course found that Throd already had a slaves brand, an obvious escapee.

As the crowd roared Throd looked around impasively at those he shared a cell with. He had been lucky that the slavers hadn't killed him out of hand. This was at least a chance. He wanted his freedom back.

The guard knocks on the bone bars hard with his weapon.
"Volenteers?" He sneers.

It was a trap....sort of. Being the first ones out was a double edged sword. Those who were first out were the first prey for whatever lay outside, but they were also the first to get the weapons dropped by those who had already died. A quiet pall settles over the cell as each person had to agonize over thier fate.

Would you take the bait?

Sent from Topic'it App

Igto, taking up a major part of the cell they found themselves in, sighed a massive sigh that seemed to rumble through the stones around them all. The dried blood from his previous fights smeared across his face, the blood of those he had made into nothing with his massive weapons. It wasn't the life he had wanted. Not in the slightest. But it was where he was now and he would make do. As all his kind did, he would adapt to the situation and make do.

He trudges his massive feet over towards Apollon, wondering what the smart man had in store. Hell he was the closest thing to a friend that Igto had in here, as well as the others of their little band of misfits.

"What you think? What is next?"

The call comes in from their captors.

"Should we stay or should we go now?"

Throd flexes his arms and rolls his shoulders.

"I would have the best pick of the weapons. I doubt now will be the time,..." which is accompanied by an imperceptible nod at Apollon "...but if it is I would be as well armed as I can be."

Almost anything would be better than staying in this dank place. Best to have the sun at my back and a blade in hand Thrud thought.

The crowd keeps up the chant, getting louder and louder, but no volenteers came forward.

The guards started to look concerned under their masked helms.

The volume and tempo grows: RAH!RAH!RAH!RAH!RAH!
Finally, a woman approaches the gate, and the guards.


"Whats the holdup?" she asks, with an air of superiority.
"No volunteers lady tempar."one guard replies, full of fear.

She turns and addresses you,
"Listen up dregs. These guards are going to open this gate and you will all walk out and die for the pleasure of the crowds, and our Lord-king. Those who remain in here will have to deal with me."
Your cell-mates were silent. It was obvious what this lady was:
A templar, the secret police of the dragon kings, in this case, Nibenay himself. Their magic was the same kind that Ravaged the world, draining life from athas as surly as from its inhabitants. They were both feared and hated in equal measure.

She turns and walks out of sight, leaving the guards.

They look at each other and then open the door......

Apollon whispers to Thord and Igto, "We must put on a show. A good one. Something that catches the crowds love. When we do we are no longer expendable. That will buy us time at least."

Apollon knew the arenas. He'd been to the games before. There was two different types of fighters. Those that were prized and those that were the expendable supporting cast. Apollon, Throd, and Igto needed to become those prize fighters instead of the expendable they are now.

"Work as a team. Make it flashy and brutal. Finally, be the final ones standing."

Apollon kept his mouth shut when the templar came up. He listened and kept his tongue in check less he wanted to lose it.

When the door opens Apollon stands cracking his neck, "Let's give them a show or die trying at least."

He then steps forth leaving the dark and dank cell for the heat and relentless rays of Athas' sun.

Throd nodded at Apollon’s words. They were sensible. He didn’t trust the small man (small at least to Throd) but then he trusted exactly no one at this present time. If they broke free it would be all about who could run the faster.

The Mul turned to the guards “We are ready” Throd said grimly

Igto simply nods his big head, glad someone else was doing the thinking. Thinking made his head want to leave his body. Not comfy at all.

"Ready."

The cells begins to empty - rapidly - you couldnt help but be swept along of crushed underfoot (except Igto).

You exit the cells and the harsh light of the sun nearly blinded you. The surface was so bright and it had been so long since you had seen it that it takes moments to reacquaint yourself with the blistering sun.

You didn't have that kind of time.

Your cell-mates were already looting the dead bodies that were scattered around. You had to be quick, or be dead. You move towards the nearest body to relieve them of their weapon, but the announcer had already started his spiel.
"Men, and women of all races. Nibenay. Our third event for the day will be criminals!"
The crowds roar out in approval.
"These are the scum who stole your goods, raped your wives and kidnapped your children!"
The roar increases. Hardly anyone you knew were that sinister, but it didnt matter here. All that mattered was the crowds approval.
"And now, they will face....."
There was a pause. The crowds were quiet as they waited for the clarion call of those who would devour you.
"Halflings captured from the crescent forest!"

The arena trembles from the crowds. Now, that you had a weapon in hand, you could take a look at the arena itself. It was ovicular, and high walls separated the crowds from the violence. The ground was soft sand, as was most of Athas.

"And with the blessings of our lord-king, Nibenay, let the entertainment commence."
Your eyes wander the stadium and find the voice. It was some bureaucratic lackey, no importance, but what caught your attention was the thing behind him. It sat in a throne, not just any throne, but a grand throne, something you imagine a god (if such a thing exsisted)Standing you imagine even Igto would only be chest high...maybe. It had a black serpentine body with a long tail. Jewelry covered its arms, legs and face, but otherwise it looked naked. Lined all around its throne was several lady templars like the one who threatened the innmates.

It could only be the sorcer-king, Nibenay.


He makes a simple gesture with his hand, wordless. And the crowds burst into excitement.

The bone gate across the way clanks open and a horde of cannibalistic halflings rush out, straight towards the nearest innmate. They had filed teeth and a mad look in their eyes. There would be no bargaining here.

Throd picks up a Warhammer and hefts it in two hands to test its weight. It was bloodied with brain matter and had many scratches across its metal but it was solid and would be deadly in the Mul’s hand.
Throd raises the weapon in the air, not as a salute to the crowd but to the other gladiators.
With that he starts to run at the nearest halfling. He had seen and heard about the cannibalistic race but had never fought with any before. They looked small and week, he would have to keep an eye and be ready for low attacks, but otherwise he wasn’t concerned.
As he draws near Throd brings the Warhammer around in an underarm swing hoping to catch the halfling in its mid-drift and perhaps send it sprawling into the air.

Spoiler:

The hefty weapon was unbalanced and the Halfling dodges rather easily. It hisses back at you and comes fourth with its wrist razor.

Spoiler:

The razor's tear through calloused flesh, leaving a trail of three parallel cuts on Throd's torso.

As expected, the halflings stuck together as a group. It was the same when these vicious vermin were in the wilds. The one in the rear moves around Throd to flank him. His weapon was a measly puchik, but it was still capable of hurting the slave-mul.

Spoiler:

The puchik hits nothing but air.

Igto lumbers out of the hold, glad to leave the stuffiness of the cell behind him. He scans with his eyes, finding the beauty he had been hoping was in the cold, lifeless hands of a former gladiator. The maul was massive, bloody, and eager to get back to its one true purpose.
He hefts it in one hand, slamming it done into his other, a wicked smile on his face. Thrill and excitement slash across his face as he lets out a massive warcry, building up his inner bloodlust for the coming kills.
He knew he needed to act fast. The little things could and might run circles around him. If he gave them the chance.
He rushes towards the one closest to the right-side of the gladiator ring. With the might roaring might that can only come from a half-giant, he smashes downward with the maul, hoping that one strike is enough to end the life of his opponent.

Spoiler:

The halfling looks up just in time to notice the maul brain him to death. Blood and brain matter ooze from the mauled remains of skull. The maul and the sand was a dark, crimson red now. With Igto's kill. Only 2 of the 3 that had attacked you remained.
The crowd boo's at the "criminal" killing his own murderer. Jeers and rotten vegetables are thrown at Igto, but he was too busy to notice them.

Apollon scoops up a bone dagger out of a pool of blood and flicks it clean. Apollon ignored the roars of the crowd and focused more whatever beasts they unleashed on them. It of course had to be Halflings. These ones were probably starved to make them even more viscous.
The best place for him was behind Throd and Igto. That and Apollon could watch for any flanking attacks as that's how Apollon would try to take on these two brutes instead of going right at them.
As he moves he starts to sing with the din of battle raging around him. He did say he was going to make it a show after all...
O' Athas
You and your sun
Bake the blood of the worthy and unworthy
Into the sand
O' Athas
You and the beauty of annihilation
Swirl like the sands in the arena during battle
As the worthy and unworthy cut each other down
O' Athas
You please your people with this show
From these 3 fighters
Throd, Igto, and Apollon
O' Athas
They will give you a show

Spoiler:

Almost imperceptibly, the boo's and jeering of the rapid crowd lessens. Apallon's song would win them over eventually.


Initiative:
Throd - 17
Halfing 1 - 15 - CC with Throd
Halfling 2 - 14 - Flanking Throd
Igto - 10
Appallon - 4 - Flanking halfling 2
Halfling 3 - DEAD

Round 2

Throd winced as the halfling sunk its blade into his side. He hadn't expected it to be so quick. Taken off balance by his last swing of the warhammer, he still tried to use that to his advantage. He let the swing spin him right around and tried to take the halfling head off with his back swing which came upwards on the diagonal aiming at the halflings head.
The warhammer connects solidly with the halflings head in an upwards blow. Teeth and blood are splattered upwards in a perfect arc.
The crowd roars with the bloodshed.

The remaining halfling was caught between Throd and Apollon. Judging Apollon to be the weaker of the two, it attacks with its puchik. Today was not the day for the feral fellow as his punch-knife fails to find its mark.

Igto had barely let the body of his first victim hit the ground before he was off to hopefully brain the next one to death. He finds the little thing attacking his new friends with the vigor of a mighty cockroach. Hopefully it would die easier than one.
He smashes downward with the maul, excitement rife on his face.
The maul causes the small guy's chest to collapse inward and it drops to the ground. It was in a heap before you all, struggling with each breath.

The crowds paying attention to your particular fight wait with bloodthirsty anticipation for the coup de grace. How would the bard finish him off?





Initiative:
Throd - 17
Halfing 1 - 15 - DEAD
Halfling 2 - 14 - Flanking Throd
Igto - 10
Appallon - 4 - Flanking halfling 2
Halfling 3 - DEAD

Apollon watched as Igto came rushing in and crushed in the Halfling's chest.

He now lay there failing to suck in any air.

Even with the rage of battle going on elsewhere in the arena the crowd was transfixed. They were sucked in to the drama... the anticipation.

Apollon straddles over the dying Halfling. He could hear it wheezing and in pain. He'd make this quick.

He crosses his arms, glances down, and then springs them out to his sides. Doing so in the same movement he throws the dagger into the eye of the Halfing. At this range it was trivial and easy to do in a flourish.

His head snaps up with his arms raised out to his sides and yells into the crowd, "Are you not entertained?"

Igto lets out a booming roar of laughter, fueled by the delight of the crowd at the showmanship of Apollon.

"Stain the sands with his blood! STAIN IT!"

He screams the last part as loud as his voice will let him. Booming, he hoped it would carry on the winds of the crowd and gain their favor as well as that of the massive black thing watching them with what seemed disinterest. Igto looks around, eager to get into the next fight.

The crowds roar with approval at the execution. With the crowds in such a frenzy, only those closest would have any inkling Apollon was even speaking.
There was no time for reveling in the adoration of the crowd, however, as some halflings that had killed off some of your inmates were now moving in towards you.

The first stands his ground. His wild and unkempt hair covered him like a suit of foliage. He raises a shortbow made from baloo wood and gut-strings. Pulling it back and knocking an arrow, the diminutive being lets it go and the arrow crosses the battlefield with incredible speed and buries itself into Igto's upper chest.

Another of the angry creatures takes up position in front of the bow-wielder with a shield and a nasty looking carrikal. It was ready to hold off a charge, if Igto ever got around to it.

Throd hadn't expected that to be it so he wasn't surprised when more halflings entered the arena and the fact they had a bowman meant he wasn't about to tarry. Taking up the shield off his dead foe Throd starts to jog and then run at the halfling with the carrikal.

Igto IC

The Last unoccupied halfling moves from your entrance area towards the backside of the giant. It held in its hands a massive trikal, obviously pilfered from elsewhere afield. The weapon was large, much too large for the diminutive little creature. Making its way around the advancing Igto, it fries to bludgeon him with the weapon. Instead of hitting him, the weapon makes a crater in the sand.

Apollon retrieved his dagger as more Halflings moved in.
Igto charged off and while the Half-Giant was a master of destruction he was still outnumbered. So Apollon moved swiftly to assist with an Elven chant ringing out.
He was swift as the wind.
Dust kicked up behind him.
For the runner of the sands will never be slowed.
He will never tire.
Never quit.
Never surrender.
For the runner of the sands will never be forgotten.
Apollon closed the gap at the end of the chant. He came in trying to bury his dagger into the back of the Halfling's neck.
The roar of the crowd alerted the halfling to the danger. He was able to twist out the way just enough to avoid carotid surgery.



Initiative:
Halfling 4 - 22 -
Halfling 5 - 19 -
Throd - 17 - 19 -
Halfing 1 - 15 - DEAD
Halfling 2 - 14 - DEAD
Igto - 10
Halfling 6 - 6 -
Appallon - 4 - Flanking halfling 6
Halfling 3 - DEAD

The halfling in the back kncks another around and aims it again at Igto. He had a companion (as far as any could be called in the arena) behind Igto, but the half giant's size meant there was no chance of hitting him. He squeals ferally and lets the arrow fly. It flies uselessly pass Irgot's head, eventually landing in the far wall.

The shielded halfling steps forward. He swings the carrikal out ward from behind the added safety of the wooden shield. His eye level was that of Igto's knee, and that's what he hit. The clubbing blow threatened  to buckle his legs, but he stood tall.

Throd wasn't about to let the archer pepper them with arrows while his fellow gladiators dealt with the melee combatants. The Mul charges forward shield up, would the halfling re-arm or accept the charge with a bow in its hand.

Igto felt the pain cascade through his leg, making him bite down hard on his lip. The sweet taste of copper filled his mouth and he yelled out, swinging down hard on the closest enemy to him. He wanted to make them bleed.

The creature was caught between Apollon and Igto. He decides to keep the pressure up on the giant. Barring his sharp teeth, he lunges out with the oversized trikal again.  The halfling struggles as the trikal put him off balance. The spiked head srashes into the sand.
The crowds respond with a suddne "oooooooo!"

All Apollon caught was air at the end of his chant. His gritted his teeth and cursed himself for using an Elvish chant. This time he just shut up. He fainted another attack at the Halfling's neck and then dropped to a knee trying to drive the dagger into its gut.
The dagger slides between its ribs with ease, puncturing a lung. The halfling begins coughing up blood, drops the trikal and falls to its knees.
The audience roars in approval.
It would seem Apollon was becoming an arena favorite.


Initiative:
Halfling 4 - 22 -
Halfling 5 - 19 -
Throd - 17 - 19 -
Halfing 1 - 15 - DEAD
Halfling 2 - 14 - DEAD
Igto - 10
Halfling 6 - 6 - DEAD
Appallon - 4
Halfling 3 - DEAD

The halfling with the bow was going to fire at Igto again, until he saw an angry Mull headed straight for him.
"EEk!" he squeaks, changing his aim towards Throd. He fires the arrow and moves back a few feet.
The arrow lodges itself in Throd's upper thigh, Causing a stinging pain to light his nerves.

The halfling with the carrikal and the shield smiles up at Igto, baring his pointed teeth. It pulls the smae move and swings out at Igto's knee (Need clarification.)

Throd raises his shield but seeing that it would be useless against the arc of the arrow he lets the arrow hit him, but as it strikes his skin around the area struck turns to stone for a brief moment turning it aside. The blessing of the earth elementals were with him. To the crowd it looked as though the missile had simply bounced off.
Reaching the archer Throd brings his hammer down in a crushing blow, but it looked to be wide of the mark, or at best a glancing blow.
The blow hits the halfling's head and glances off its thick skull. Blood begins to pout from the unkempt, matted hair.
The creature looked concussed but was clearly still combat effective.

The small fries were getting their licks in for sure, but every time they did so Igto downed another. The blood splattering onto him threatened to unleash his inner beast, but he kept it in check. They weren't worth it. Not these small weaklings before him. No, he'd wait. He'd wait until the bigger fish were there for the frying.
He smashes down towards the closest halfling, eager to split its head open and leave it the same as its friends.

Apollon smiled as the crowd approved of his display of showmanship. There was no time to take a bow though. The Halfing in front of Igto was eviscerated from the brutes swing spraying Apollon with all kinds of matter. He didn't wipe it off though. He wore it like a mask and saw the only other Halfling still threatening them.
He raced across the sand dagger hidden behind his back. It then flashed out at the last moment.




Initiative:
Halfling 4 - 22 -
Halfling 5 - 19 - DEAD
Throd - 17 - 19 -
Halfing 1 - 15 - DEAD
Halfling 2 - 14 - DEAD
Igto - 10
Halfling 6 - 6 - DEAD
Appallon - 4
Halfling 3 - DEAD

The creature was dead and he knew it. With no options but to take one of you down with it, he aims the bow at the weaker looking of the 2 assailants.

The first time in this bloody fight did one of the Halflings actually come after Apollon. Surprising as he was the weakest out of the "group". He would show the Halfling he was just as deadly in a straight up fight as he was coming in from unseen directions. He revered the bone dagger in his hand, waited for the Halfling to make a move, then try to slip by him to bury his dagger into the Halfling's back.
The dagger buries itself to the hilt, sticking in the ribs. Apollon pulls hard, and finally jerks the dagger free.

The body falls lifeless to the floor and the crowds go nuts. There were equal amounts of jeers and hurrahs. Looking around, you see that Apollon had just dispatched the last of the Halfling savages, much to the delight and dismay of the crowds.

You look around, there were a scant few prisoners left standing, including you about 10 total.

Movement at the Throne of the dragon-king caught your attention, it caught the entire coliseums attention. The dragon king stands, he was even taller than Igto was.
The crowds fall silent, deathly silent-for to interrupt king Nibenay was to incur his wrath.

He says something, you shouldnt have ben able to hear him, but his voice echoed in the Colosseum as cracking thunder.

"The prisoner's have dispossed of a pest problem and lived. As a reward, I will allow a single executioner his freedom."
It was at this point that one of the side gates opened and some slaves brought in a man nailed to a wooden frame. Bone steaks were driven through his arms and legs, tying him to the wood. Where his hands should have been there was nothing left but bloody nubs. His chin was covered in blood, it was possible that his tongue had already been cut out. In spite of this, he had a determined glint in his dim eyes.
"He was caught defiling the land. MY city! Arcane magic! Should he live?"
In unison, the entire gathering shouted 'No!'
"Then he will die!" The dragon king says as he turns and leaves the rest p to his templars.

There was a pause as you all consider each other. Only one would kill him and only one would be freed, that means it was a race to kill him. Unfortunately, for you, the nearest one leapt into action first. He ran at the torture rack with a spear, little more than asharpened stick, and stuck the man through the neck.
The crowds roar in approval, a man had been pardoned and a defiler was no more.

With this part of the show over, you are ushered by guards to drop your weapons and back into the dungeon below. The same menacing horned lady was at their head.. For a moment you think of fighting back, trying to claw your way past them.

You weren't the only ones thinking the same. One of you cell mates grips his carrikal tight and tries to rush the guards.

He never made it. It happened so fast it was hard to believe it happened at all. The horned lady pulled a wavy dagger and easily removed the carrikal from the man's grasp, before slicing his throat.
"Anyone else?"

Reconsidering your position: Hurt, outmanned and ill equipped... resistance snow seemed like a death trap.


Initiative:
Halfling 4 - 22 -
Halfling 5 - 19 - DEAD
Throd - 17 - 19 -
Halfing 1 - 15 - DEAD
Halfling 2 - 14 - DEAD
Igto - 10
Halfling 6 - 6 - DEAD
Appallon - 4
Halfling 3 - DEAD

Apollon bowed to the crowd for their bloody thirsty cheering and jeers. However, even with the satisfaction of being the victor and the loved one he was still stuck here doing things he didn't want to do. He was forced to fight these Halflings in a game of life and death... for someone else's entertainment.

Apollon paid little attention to the sorcerer-kings words or to the execution. They were just spices on the meat so to speak. Nothing to relevant.

What did draw his attention was the fool that went after the Templar. He didn't last very long and just reinforced the point that escape from this place wasn't going to be easy.

To fight and plan for another day was all anyone could do.

So Apollon dropped his bone dagger and proceeded back to the dungeon, "Remember the names Apollon, Igto, and Throd, folks! For they gave you a magnificent show today and hopefully for many more to come!"

He flashed a smile from his bloody face to the Templar as he disappeared back below into the bowels of the stadium.

The templar looks at you disdainfully, but the crowd goes wild with you bow, and what speach they could hear. Apollon had certainly played to the crowds this day, they would not soon forget it.

After you are all herded into the gate it slams shut behind you.

You proceed to move back to the spots you had previously occupied when you heard speaking.
"Wait, wait!, What about my freedom?"

Turning, you see the executioner who had stabbed the defiler in the neck. He had grabbed the bone bars and was pleading to the templar to let him go.

She smiles as she stands there, bars between them, "My, how very right you are." She turns to one of the guards, "This man has earned his freedom, has he not?"
"He has m'lady."
"Then I shall give it to him!"
She reaches her hand through the bars and touches him on the shoulder, then gives him a gentle push back into the cell.

Already you could tell that something was wrong. Before you very eyes, the man was aging. He tried to speak but his words only game out in withering moans. He aged 50 years in 10 seconds, now looking to be a man of 90.
He hunched over on bones that could no longer support the weight, then he lost his balance and toppled over.
He stopped moving, but it didnt stop his aging. Even as he lay there dead he was decaying by years to the second, his body crumbling to gray dust, blown away by the winds of Athas.

The commotion had drawn all eyes and no one in the cell could speak.

"His freedom has been granted." She announces with finality.

She then eyes the rest of you, a pall of fear settling over the dungeon.
"Sleep well, for tomorrow you shall all be free."
With that, she turns and laughs as she walks out and away from view.

Igto knew that he wouldn't be quick enough as the words left the serpents mouth. He does nothing, only staring over as the spear goes through the neck of the defiler. He drops his weapon on the ground, scratching at his head.

"I guess he was lucky."

He shrugs his shoulders and heads into the dungeon behind Apollon, knowing that they'd live to fight another day.

+++++

"Perhaps not so lucky..."

The words leave his mouth as the templar walked away. Shaking his head, Igto turns to the others.

"Well...I don't much like that guy's plan. We got something better?"

'Sleep well, for tomorrow you shall all be free.' the Templar said. Going by the display with the defiler these were not good words to hear.

"Our options are limited" he replies to Igto "We either break out of here somehow or see what tomorrow brings, although if we are to die I would prefer to do it fighting as opposed to being executed for sport."

"We'd need to get that door open, trick a guard into coming in here. Kill some of them and then fight our way out? Our odds are slim."

There was resignation in Throds voice although no fear. He been born into slavery so this came part and parcel with his lot in life.

Apollon watched as the winner was set "free". Well, depending on who you talked he might of achieved his freedom from slavery. It wasn't Apollon's idea of freedom and it only kindled the fire already burning in him to escape.

He caught Throd and Igto talking, "Patience. We can't rush this. Rushing it will spell our doom. Take it one step at a time would be more beneficial. The first step is getting out of this cell. We need to get a better lay of the land so to speak first."

With that Apollon goes to the front of the cell and flags a guard down, "Hey, can I get some water to wash off the blood. Can't go out there looking like this for my next bout."

He nods, his face hidden behind his guard helm, "Sure. Some slaves will be bringing you dinner shortly. they can do that then."

True to his word, some raggedy looking elves were let in under heavy guard. They had buckets of watter and loaves of stale cacti and a plate of cold, tough and stringy Crodlu meat. Compared to what the elves were most likely fed, it was a feast.

Gladiators were worth more than menials after all....

Igto looks at the meager portion and sighs, scarfing it down in one gulp. He'd survived with less and he would do so again this time.

"Well we need something. We need luck. Or we die. Simple as that."

Throd sat and leaned against a wall while he ate taking his time with his food, savouring it as best he could. Would he eat again? He was sanguine with what tomorrow might bring. He was born a slave and such things came with the territory.

He had to admit though it was bittersweet having tasted the freedom of the deserts.

Once the crodlu meat is gone, the elves are ordered out, whacked with the blunt ends of the guards weapons for fun.
Again, the gates shut and you are locked in the dungeon again with no other way out.

A few hours pass, and day turns to night. What do you do in the meantime? Did sleep overtake you? Were your dreams of freedom, or the freedom of the Nibenay templars?

Whatever you do, it had been a quiet evening until the noise of crowds catches your attention.

It was not like the crowds of the day, consumed by bloodlust. It was more like a gathering that had threatened to spiral out of control. Something else grabbed you attention:

...Where were the guards?

Apollon slept soundly or as best he could with his stomach throwing a fit at the food they were given. The Crodlu meat in particular really gave him a hard time. If Apollon could ever meet the cook he would happily stab him in the gut or poison him with a smile.

Eventually the sounds of crowds awoke him. Was it already a new day? No. He hadn't been asleep that long. That and the guards were gone.

That got Apollon to his feet. They must of moved to deal with the crowds or was it a ruse? Templars weren't above trickery and deception. Were they setting them up? Escaping slaves was an easy justification for killing them. However, from what the templar said earlier... they were already dead.

Ruse or not this was an opportunity that couldn't be missed.

Apollon looks at Igto and then the cell's door, "Igto, I think this cell could use a new exit. What do you say?"

Throd snaps awake, it had taken a while for him to get to sleep. The thought of tomorrow being his last day kept his dreams at bay. He thought of the open sands and the evening sun on his back. It seemed a shame to sleep.

The noise roused him, he had not been a sleep long.

What was going on out of sight, possibly a riot by the sound of it. It would account for the lack of guards. This was their chance. While he was no match for Igto's strength he was still strong, he would aid the giant as he could.

As Igto moved towards the bone gate, someone unfamiliar moved into sight. He was obviously not a guard; he didnt look connected to the establishment in any way. He was dirty, wore clothes more kin to rags than robes, and he had an eyepatch.

He was obviously excited in a frantic sort of way. What was most important was that he held a set of guard keys in his hands.
"Hurry! Hurry!" he shouts as he fumbles to set the right key in the locking mechanism.
"We have received word. The Dragon king in Tyr has been killed! The people are rising up in revolt!"

It didn't register for Apollon at first as all he muttered was, "Heh."

Then it started to sink in. They were just told of a historic event like nothing before it. A sorcerer king was laid low and now others were trying to do the same.

It also meant that he, and his new friends, needed to get out of the city as soon as possible. It wouldn't be safe for anyone. Then wait for the dust to settle and then come back and correct some unfinished business. Apollon wasn't the one to get engaged in revolutions and rebellions. He wasn't going to start now. He sure would take advantage of it though.

The old man finally finds the key and opens the cell. Apollon gives him a pat on the shoulder and doesn't look back.

"Unless you two want to stick around and slug it out in the streets I'm going to find a nice rock or village far from here and let this thing blow over. It isn't my fight." He says to Igto and Throd.

The man who opened the gate speaks to all of you. "We must storm the barracks and take weapons for ourselves. To the streets!"

The other gladiators file out in a rush, back onto the sands where just hours earlier they had killed for enjoyment, if they joined in the rioting, they would fight for a cause; and likely die for that same cause.

Some of your fellow cell mates follow the man towards the sound of fighting off in the coliseum, other head towards the other direction, while some stand dumbfounded, unsure of any decision. Even in the night, the rim of the fighting pit in lit by the orange-yellow glow of fire.

Thord nods to Apollon "Let's get out of here." he then glances to the arena where the noise of fighting came from "probably best to avoid fighting where we can as it will draw others, but we do need to get weapons in our hands."

"I'm sure there will be plenty lying around outside of the arena in hands that don't need them anymore." Apollon says with a smirk.

With that Throd heads out into the arena, he looked for weapons and studied the walls to see if it was possible to climb.

You enter the arena where you had killed but hours earlier. Already the cell was emptying behind you. They were all filtering out and looking for their own weapons same as you.

All the weapons had been taken to a weapon rack on the far left side, away from the encroaching sounds of fighting. Seeing how much your numbers had been reduced during the day, there would be plenty enough for all.

Finding yourselves some weapons, now all you needed was some worthy armor, and some ceramic pieces to speed you away from this place.

The sounds of fighting were getting louder and louder. Soon the fighting would break into the arena stands, and then on the sand itself.

Throd easily spots several bone gates barring entry into the stands. It certainly looked safer than trying to climb the walls as the rim of the arena walls was lined with jutting spikes, though this was likely more for decor than anything else.

Apollon took a look at the lock. An honest to the spirits metal lock kept the bone gate from being easily wrenched open. Even without his tools Apollon knew he could get it open.

Sleight of Hand:

Either he was out of practice, or the lock was better built than expected. Either way, opening the gate was not going to be easy.

From the opposite end of the arena, a score of men spill out from the crowd entrance into the stands. They were clashing with guards, your guards to be exact. The guards were better equipped with large two handed datchi clubs and armor, whereas the rebels fought with fists and pilfered torches.

The sounds give you the impression that more were about to follow.

Igto lumbered forwards and grabbed the gate at the top. With a grunt of exertion he ripped it from its hinges in the sandstone wall.

"Door" he says sardonically. The way was free to move up the stands in the arena.

Igto moved with purpose through the door after having removed it from its hinges. He wasn't the fastest, but he knew he could knock as many objects out of the way as necessary to get them far away from this place. So long as they didn't run into any of those magic wielding bastards.

"Come. We leave now!"

Throd didn't need further encouragement. With hammer and shield in hand he runs through the broken gate and up into the stands, he heads for one of the many tunnels that allowed the crowds to exit.

Well if you couldn't pick your way through just let the Half-Giant have a go at it. Apollon didn't need any further encouragement to escape from the arena as he followed close behind Throd and Igto. Once out though they would have to get through the city... that should be fun.

Throd had been in this arena twice before. Both times when a previous master thought he'd 'treat' his slaves with the sport of the arena where they got to see other slaves butchered by gladiators or eaten by captured monsters from the deserts. On the second occasion he recalled seeing people coming and going from a concealed reccess in a wall, perhaps that might prove useful.

"I've seen people use concealed doors in this place before, perhaps they'll be of use? Either a hidden way out or perhaps they have something stored?"

Throd will set off with purpose.

Throd finds the door. It was locked, but that didnt stop him from kicking the door in.

Stepping in, you find a small and dusty room filled with skeletal bone crates full of gear for the games. It had weapons, armor, and other odds and ends that you might find useful as you make your way out of this hellish city-state.

Looking back to the arena floor, you see that more guards have arrived and the fighting is now on the arena floor. It was expanding and expanding towards you.

Thord reaches for the hardened wooden plate armour and starts to buckle it in place. He was slow and plodding and would feel more confident if they did need to fight encased in armour.

"Its best we ready ourselves as we do not know whats ahead. I'll also look less like a slave in this armour once we get out of here."

Igto makes his way over to a massive two-handed maul, lifting it up and checking its weight. He smiles, finally having a weapon worthy of his time once again. Sure he'd used it in the arena, but now he was closer and closer to freedom. The maul felt much better in these circumstances. He grabs a few hand axes and javelins as well just in case.

After getting all the gear he wished to take, he positioned himself out of the hidden room, standing watch and keeping an eye out for their next fight.

Apollon grabbed a set of bone daggers and a set of bone shortswords. The more the merrier. He however didn't grab any armor. He didn't want to stand out in the city and planned on staying away from any fighting if possible.

One thing he did look for was any sort of survival equipment. A pack, some dried food, and hopefully some water.

The sounds outside returns Throd's atention to reality. He didnt have time to secure the armor, not before the fighting would reach them. There was no choice but to take it and run for now.

Gathering up what gear you could in a short amount of time, You leave what ever was left in its room to its fate, weather it be taken by the rebels or reclaimed by the city guard.

You step back into the arena and back up the sloped steps.
As you make it to the top, four city guards crest the top, directly between you and freedom.
"Back to your cells slaves!" They call, recognizing that you were not free men, but indentured servants.

They each wore lashed hide armor, and carried a carrikal. Two remained in front while the other two started to flank the sides, ready for a fight.....

Apollon's face went stern when city guard cut them off, "Fools! We're city guard just like you. We awoke to find our armory had been raided by rebels. So we came to the next place for weapons and armor. The arena."

Apollon was lying of course but the less time they spent fighting the better their chances of escaping the city were.

Deception:

Round 1

Igto knew they needed to get as far as possible away from where they were. Those damn magic users would be back any second and they'd probably turn them to dust with a snap of their fingers. He hadn't let loose in the arena, knowing he didn't need to, but time was of the essence and they needed to down these bad boys fast.
He screamed out ferociously, cracking his neck from side to side, the veins bulging outwards. He let his smile widen across his face and his eyes turned menacing. Rushing forward as fast as his legs could take him, he swings his maul up into the air, the glee on his face mirrored in the eyes of his enemy.
The guard sees hes mistake of flanking on the right side. It brought him closest to the lumebering half giant. His eyes widen in panic and terror as the maul creates a concave structure in his skull that had not previously been there. The momentum carries his body to the ground. He would pose no further problems.

The guards didn't buy his silver tongue this time. Oh, well. Looked like blood would flow in the arena again.
Igto pressed forward and Apollon followed right behind him. Best place was to be behind the Half Giant until Apollon wanted to go on the attack.

"He's a biggun mate" the closest surviving guard says to the other.
"We need to take him down or he will kill us all." The other one replies.
"Mob him!" the first one says, as he charges down the steps. He swings the carrikal like a club, and the weapon collides with Igto's upper left thigh.

As he charged forwards, the other moved in from the opposite direction. The lumbering half giant had killed one of thiers with a single blow, he had to die first.
His carrikal smashes in Igto's right knee. With his legs assailed from both sides, Igto's knees buckles but the stubborn lug refuses to believe that he's at risk.

Throd bounds purposely up the steps taking two at a time. It looked as though the giant was in trouble so he angles his run at one of his opponents. Despite his height attacking a foe above proved troublesome, his warhammer swiping harmlessly at the guards legs.

A small wild haired halfing head pops up and looks around. He takes in everything that is going on around him.
"You! You help Lokee! Lokee help you!"
A green light briefly glows around Lokee before shooting towards the half giant, bathing him in light and closing some of his wounds.
He ducks down again, peering at the goings on.

The significance of the halfling cannibal was not lost on you. Not only did he speak the common tongue, he had healing powers at his disposal......

The last guard would have to save his disbelief for later. The Mul in front of him looked pissed off. He had a height advantage and he would not let it go to waste. The carrikal comes down in a wicked arc, bouncing right off of Throd's new shield.
"Shit!" he said.

Initiative:
Igto - 20 - 9/15
Apollon - 19
G1 - 11
G2 - 11
G3 - 9 - DEAD
Throd - 7
Lokee - 5
G4 - 3