<strong>Ammon in the Mess</strong><br/><br/>Ammon found that locking someone into a hold while oiled? Was a bad idea. Winding up on his back as a result, he grunted but wasn't hurt. Mostly taken off balance as the little shit got loose. Kipping up, Ammon made his way out onto the sand after him and watched him silently as he talked before erupting into laughter as he clutched his waist. This continued for a moment before Ammon looked at Cingetorix and stated<strong>"You stupid little pissant! The life you knew? It is over. You won't be going back to it. You're to embrace pain, and suffering as we all have and should you survive? Earn the mark and count yourselves our equal! You think because you can throw a punch that means anything? It means shit in the arena! I'll allow the Dominus to deal with you, you'll learn yet. Your comments? We can revisit them in the arena, pissant."</strong>Spitting at his feet as he turns to go back to the mess hall and deal with Ryann now. Grumbling to himself all the while, this wasn't his damned job.