Dust surrounded her, choking her throat, covering every inch of her lithe form. The hot sun beat down upon her unmercilessly, causing beads of sweat to form upon her brow, raven locks so dirty from the road clinging to high cheekbones. She sat at the far back of the cage, knees drawn up, arms layed atop as the steel barred cart swayed to and fro in the slave caravan. The stink of the other slaves stuffed in so close to her did nothing to aid in her current mood, which was indeed murderous. Yet she could do nothing. Not at the moment at any rate.<br/><br/>Luigsech O' Ciardha was a slave. Once known as The Raven, a bring of death in Boudicca's army, having fought valiantly next to the Queen herself, she was now nothing but a killer for the amusement of the filthy Romans who had managed to capture her. And now she had been sold once again, to whom she didn't know, for information of that caliber was never given to the likes of her. Yet the caravan was slowing, and she heard the guards starting to yell. It seemed they had come to their destination.<br/><br/>Lifting her head slowly, a face of near divine beauty would be seen, if not perhaps noticed. Eyes of a carribian blue would sweep about, searching, ever seeking for an escape route. A scowl would crease the perfection of her brow as she gazed at the villa about her, already working how she might work this area to her advantage. A guard would come to her cage, banging on the bars with his stick, so big, so rough...so pathetic. Yet with nary a sigh she would rise alongside the other slaves, pushing up with her legs, strong yet supple thighs and calves bunching beneath velvet flesh. Her visage set in stone as she followed the orders given her in complete silence, stepping into line with the other slaves set to be Gladiators in this new arena.<br/><br/>Into the Training yard of the House of Caelius did the Raven step, chin held high, shoulders back, naked as the day she was born. Yet she walked with a warriors grace, athletic, lithe, and oh so deadly. Her dark curls swung about ample hillocks, tendrils kissing gently about rosy nipples of breasts delightfully full but firm. Her hips held a sway that allowed all to witness her to know she was a woman, yet her eyes..oh those eyes. They held naught but death.<br/><br/>For since her capture Luigsech knew but two things. Revenge and escape. She would have both some day, and it didn't matter how many died by her hand to aquire her dreams. Perhaps here, under this new Master, she could attain her goal...