<strong>~ NPC Gladiators: Plautus, Velasco, Tacitus ~<br/>~ Gladiator's mess hall ~</strong><br/><br/><em>ooc note: For better reference I've named the dudes, and maybe they will have future roles. Everyone feel free to use them... maybe I will make some more specific NPC sheets for them :P<br/><br/>Plautus is the one who faced Ryann initially.<br/>Velasco is the one who dropped the gruel bowl by Cingetorix's feet.<br/>Tacitus is the quiet one... his name literally means 'mute/silent'</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Plautus merely grinned as the woman squared up to him; without a doubt, the close proximity, and the feral threat in her Irish Brogue, was indeed alluring. Rather than absorb her threats completely, he only had thoughts of wrestling with her, dancing through his one-track mind. Indeed, the rather blue-balled Plautus had many debts to repay, so his victories were not always met with the gift of women.<br/><br/>“It is<em>your</em>throat where I will shove my cock, woman.” He countered quite gleefully, not budging from his squared positioning. Though the widening grin laced with his stale breath, hinted of how he was sure he could think of many other orifices too. “Among other places,” he added in a  far, gruffer tone. Before he could offer examples though, Ammon came to the rescue, though whose rescue was anyone's guess.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, Velasco had hoped that the one called 'Cingetorix' would not cower at the first sign of a challenge, but he certainly did not expect such quickly timed and well executed reflexes either. Bone and sinew cracked in his nose, the abrupt but minor breakage inflicting a momentary flash of high adrenaline pain through his nasal senses. It served to stun him long enough to remain sprawled on his back, having been tripped and sent backwards by the force of the punch combined with obstructive leg, skewing his balance completely. The thud of his body hitting the wooden planks initiated the roar of his brothers as they observed the match. Some remained seated at their benches, slamming their wooden spoons on the table like a unified arena crowd begging for more. Others rose to stand with the dull scratch of wooden chair legs against the floor, jeering but not yet interfering with the brawl. Even as Velasco felt his pressure on his windpipe from Cingetorix's heavy foot, and choked to speak, the others did not interfere.<br/><br/>See, the fact is, these three brothers, had arrived at the Ludus as a trio. Since day one, they had stuck together, cunningly earned their mark, and therefore, the others did not care to defend them.  Many would rather see them fail. This was therefore merely a little entertainment to help the gruel go down a lot better. So it was Plautus, the ring-leader, and Tacitus, the smaller, quiet and feeble one, alone, who rushed to aid the struggling Velasco. Before Plautus could even get his mitts on Cingetoix however, the feral cry of Ryann was followed by the sudden clang of the heavy iron cooking pot over the back of his head. Instantly rendered unconscious by the force of it alone, he stumbled and fell. Then, just as Tacitus tried to grab hold of Cingetorix, he too, was knocked aside. This time by Ammon. He crashed against the nearby table, and met the wrath of the other Gladiator's, whose gruel bowls were disturbed.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, one bowl fell onto the lap of one particularly large, giant of a man, who was known to be very easily agitated. In fact, a rare, awkward silence fell about the room in a wave of anticipation. Many knew what was going to happen, but nothing could prepare poor Tacitus for it, as the large man rose to his feet, drew one arm back, and launched it square into the quiet, smaller man's gut. That at least served to wind him for a moment, but he wasn't quite done yet. As Tacitus lurched forwards, the bigger man grabbed his shoulder, and flung him round in a half circle, like a rag doll. As he let go, Tacitus stumbled head first into the next table. Now, they weren't exactly so happy either to have their meal disturbed... More chairs scratched against the floor, while the iron pot Ryann had used, rolled against another table, forcing to spur the men sat there to also join the fray. With testosterone levels so high, it was an all out fisticuffs; bodies moving in a wave of swings, ducks, and stumbling limbs. Ryann would find herself in the midst of it all, with men stumbling towards her, and perhaps others trying to get her in an arm lock of their own.<br/><br/>All the while, Plautus remained lying face first on the floor, and Tacitus slung over a table top, covered in gruel. Velasco still trying to breathe beneath Cingetorix's foot.<br/>