The stench of sweat and offal permeated the air beneath the colosseum, that wretched dungeon where men awaited their deaths with each passing day. It was true that many of the gladiators, slaves or convicted criminals alike, would meet their ends at the blades of opponents far better cared for than themselves. However, Elias Savastole was not one of them who would be put down so easily. He was a well built individual, tall and muscular, seemingly carved from the face of a mountain. In his former life he had been a mighty soldier that had felled many foes on the battlefield in service to his Emperor, but all of that had come to an end when the Emperor's own son had thrown himself before a fatal strike meant for Elias himself.<br/><br/>The once great warrior had been disgraced, stripped of his titles and land-holdings and sold off into the slave market as punishment for failing his ruler. He grieved for the young man that had sacrificed himself, and had even tried to plead with the Emperor himself by citing the son's bravery and selflessness in battle. A father that has recently lost his heir however, is not the sort of man to listen to reason though. So it came to pass that Elias became a gladiator himself, forced into combat against ever mounting odds. He had performed in a multitude of small arenas across the land over the last year, hoping and praying that he would eventually come before the Emperor himself to prove his worth and be pardoned. Now was no such time though, for he had been bartered off to a wealthy merchant by the name of Radolpho who claimed him as payment for a debt that his previous owner had failed to make good on.<br/><br/>Elias counted himself lucky however, for at least this new master had yet to take a whip to his flesh; something his former owner had done just because the mood struck him. No, the gentleman who now claimed the gladiator was a kinder sort of slaver. He merely wanted Elias to perform well to increase his own wealth, for he was a gambling man and by the cut of his fine clothing and various luxury goods that he peddled he was almost always a winner. That was why he took the former soldier in the first place, because he could judge a man's ability to kill as well as any bookkeeper could judge horseflesh for races.<br/><br/>"Now Elias," Radolpho addressed him through the cage's iron bars, "today you will be facing off against this city's premier fighter. He is known only as The Butcher, and while his name may not be the most original it is said that he has killed fifty men of your ilk. Do make me proud and put your blade through his heart, and try to make a good showing of it this time. You are always so quick to finish things that the audience barely gets any entertainment out of the whole affair."<br/><br/>The gladiator nodded to the request and spoke calmly to his owner. "Of course sir, but you should know that making sport of killing is what gets most men killed in the first place. Certainly you would not wish to lose your investment over something so trivial." He knew that he should not speak against his master's wishes in the least, but he and the merchant had reached an understanding in their short time together. Elias would kill all men put before him in combat, and Radolpho would continue to reap the rewards and put the gladiator ever closer to his grand performance before the Emperor himself.<br/><br/>Waving a hand beneath his nose to try and dispel some of the stench that assaulted his delicate senses the merchant glowered at Elias for a moment for his backtalk. He did however nod himself and quickly walk away to find his place in the colosseum's wealthier seats where he would witness his property's deadliness in combat. For all of his huff about entertainment Rodolpho himself could not deny that when it came to sending a man into the afterlife, Elias knew more on that subject than he did.<br/><br/>The gladiator sat back on his haunches and began stretching his muscles for the upcoming bout when he heard a decidedly feminine voice ring out along the corridors.<i>Markel!</i>she had cried out, calling for the young man that had been a member of this city's gladiatorial troupe since Elias's arrival a week prior. The boy was not suited for combat and Elias knew that it was only a matter of time before he would be thrown to the proverbial wolves. He was the sort of slave that was only good for feeding whatever wild beasts the arena's operators decided would make for good sport that particular day.<br/><br/>When the young woman finally rounded the corner where the gladiator was caged he was in awe of her beauty. She was nothing more than a commoner by his reckoning, but even as such she held higher station than himself these days. He watched as she called out for the boy again and felt a twinge of guilt when the man in the cage across from him snarled at her in response. While it was true that Markel had been dragged off to face his gods in some other venue, Elias did not see it necessary to tell the frightened girl in such a fashion.<br/><br/>So, when she came to have her back against the door of his own cage he reached through the bars and placed a hand tenderly upon her shoulder. "While my compatriot does not have the most noble of personalities, he does not speak false dear girl. Your man has been taken from this arena to another, but there may yet be hope if you are willing to listen."