<strong>Rioghan at training</strong><br/><br/>It was new meat day. For the ludus champion it didn't really mean much, it was hard for a fresh slave to tell by the manner in which the gladiators were garbed who was who. Rioghan was, like all the other gladiators, adorned in nothing more then a rag to protect modesty. While some champions had the leeway and confidence to step out onto the training sands later in the day then their brothers, mayhap suffering under a head burned by wine. The Hibernian was not of that sort, not often at least. He was out with all the others, the same early rise so that he might practice his killing craft.<br/><br/>When the fresh blood came limping in like the sorry lot they were, and Doctore called for formations, Rioghan did as instructed. He respected that man, he had knowledge and wisdom, talented honed by experience. With a wooden shield and sword in hand the Celtic Champion made his way to formation, standing as he should. Dominus was watching, if it were not for the chains, figurative if not always literal, didn't bind Rioghan to this place he would have counted the Dominus as a man he also respected. True there was some respect there, he had been good to his Champion but one couldn't help but assume he was being good to a valuable product. Taking care of his star stock. In another time, another place Rioghan might have served under him as a soldier proudly and with honour, bringing glory to both. Such a place and time had not come about however.<br/><br/>Then there was Ammon, he was promising and talented, he had honour and skill with blade. Truth be told if Rioghan did not have several years on him which gave him time to perfect craft, it was possible Ammon would have been Champion. However, Rioghan had those seven years that honed his talents and he was far from so age when arm would grow weak. He'd be Champion for quite some time yet he reckoned, but he had no issue with banter with the brother-of-the-mark or entertaining his desires of one day meeting on the sands.