Son Of Darkness

The Arena Life

The loud blaring resonance of the horn above him awoke E. Pulling himself upright, he swung his feet from the cot and to the hard floor. The smell of blood was thick in his cell, the scent wafting in from the fights that had been taking place since the early morning.

Delrin was already unlocking E's door which he quickly got up and walked to. The elven man had his same courteous smile. E gave him a respectful nod back as the cell swung in and E stepped out.

Walking around the circular underbelly of the Coliseum E's noise picked up even more blood. The different smells mingled and molded representing their respective races.

Licking his canines as they elongated he felt some inner part of him grow happy. The Wolf.

Soon enough he arrived at the arming room. A large dirty room with stains and scratches etched into its storied walls. Each an echo of the past. With dried blood stains no one knew the age of.

E spotted the two of the girls from the previous night. The ever beautiful and shy Gilma and The aggressive and vocal Talros. They both wore leather chest pieces that covered and bound their breasts with short skirts and open sandals to allow ease of movement as the Emperor stated.

BullShit

Gilma the caught the Wolf's eying and her ashen cheeks seemed to light at the gaze. She had a small buckler at her feet and a small curved dagger on her hip. The girl didn't look it, but she had taken to the gladiator life after being stolen from her homeland of the Terona Plateau. Her first week here was plagued with fear and strife. She also refused to fight for anything even under fear of the whip.

The cries and sniffles racked the nights underground. E heard it all even when she attempted to muffle them.

That enough sparked a vague interest in his wolf who willed E to take her lashings when possible. After seeing his willingness to endure her pain she took it upon her self to accept the course of the new life she was forced into.

E still had the scars from the times he had offered his own flesh. The markings seemed to subconsciously throb at the remembrance.

Slavers had been hired to find and "acquire" fighters on the Emperor's behalf.

Takings anyone who they could and dragging them from their homes and families to fight and die for entertainment.

A job in the dealings of flesh and blood. Something E knew too well.

The orcish girl who accompanied Gilma had always had issues with E, who she seemed to think somehow meant to harm the girl.

The portcullis style gate began its ascent and a fighter walked through. A small kobold wearing tattered armor and wielding a bloodied club. His face was framed with a hauntingly static smile , blood glistening of his features.

Behind him a body was pulled. A small lithe form, battered and bloody. The feminine features of the face were hard to make out with the bruising and blood. Her tattered clothing which confirmed her identity revealed she was fresh. Her eyes stared emptily at the ceiling, her soul having long departed.

Gilma saw the body as it was dragged past her, covering her mouth to hold back the near bodily reaction.

Her fae blood wafted to E's nose as he resisted his urge to smirk.

The wolf loved fae blood, it's sweet and potent aroma nearly brought him to the forefront.

E on the other hand was disgusted. The fae was clearly thrown into the pits after having no knowledge of where she was. In her confusion her fight or flight didn't save her when compared to the kobold.