"Camel piss," growled Shanna, in the middle of dressing up in her gladiatorial slut-suit. This, she had not expected and did not need, not in the middle of trying to shimmy into a very tight and scandalously short thigh-baring skirt. She'd thought it would be one of the ludus's handlers to fetch her, not one of the Immortal Anuses. "Just watch me," she hissed to Cyprus.<br/><br/>Imagine, if you will, the lucky Immortal's frame of vision as he enters, sweeping his eyes up from the wreckage in a corner of the room to the beauty standing in its middle. Armored greaves in gleaming golden-bronze strapped about long, long legs. Toned calves and thighs sheathed in luxurious white; a flash of naked thigh over her stocking-tops, punctuated by straps fastened to her garter belt. A tiny leather skirt in bright crimson that just barely covered the crotch, white thong straps rising above the heavy belt and low waistband. A white lace bodice that bares her taut midriff, under an armored brassiere in auric bronze that lewdly cups her plump breasts. Long white gloves and gauntlets that emphasise her naked shoulders and bare upper back. She sashayed towards the furious Immortal, toying with her sheathed sword in a pornographic way normally reserved for lovers' cocks.<br/><br/>"Dear lord, I do have one very good reason," Shanna said brightly. "You see, upon thinking of my imminent freedom, I did reflect that there were a few... hidden luxuries that I savored during my time in the arena. It's such a blessing to be around such fantastic specimens of virile manhood. I'm afraid I got a little... excited in my sleep, as my dreams were fevered and very enticing, and well..."<br/><br/>She helplessly indicated the shattered furniture with a look somewhere between fond reminiscence and rueful embarrassment. There were plenty of rumors, of course. Tales that gladiators rutted like animals in heat, and that in the throes of passion they could wreck the entire bedroom. While truth was that such opportunities were rare and generally disallowed, the fact that so many physically fit men and women were gathered in one place could not help but fire the imagination of what happened behind doors, after particularly heated training sessions, and perhaps what the defeated endured at the hands of victors after blood was smothered under the arena sands.<br/><br/>"I wouldn't dare to displease, or please, if you know what I mean, his Lordship the Sorcerer-King, but I'm more than ready to make amends upon you, lord." She said this while laying a hand on the Immortal's shoulder in a flirtatious gesture, and proceeded to attempt to stab the fucker through the ribs with the sword in her other hand. Come on now, anyone could have seen this one coming from leagues away. Both the predictable quip and the stabbing.