The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Angzyn on 08-10-2010, 03:11:26</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angzyn</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 03:11:26</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"> OOC Thread &nbsp;(http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=84591.0)<br>&nbsp;IC *Chapter One: Introductions** (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=85021.0)<br>Characters (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=84896.0)<br>&nbsp;Join (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=84379.0;topicseen)</span></span></div><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Rules:</strong><br>-HAVE FUN<br>-Please limit your post to two post per character per day. (Some people work/real life happening and can not post as much as others)<br>-Please try to read everyone's post to understand whats happening in the story and around your character.<br>-DID I SAY HAVE FUN!!!!</span><br><hr>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b9/Gladiator_by_omeruysal.jpg) (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=85021.0)<br><br><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[url=http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=85021.0][IMG]http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b9/Gladiator_by_omeruysal.jpg[/img][/url]</code></pre><hr><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"># Cubiculum: A bedroom.<br># Culina: Kitchen<br># Atrium: In the most ancient times of Rome the atrium was the area where much of family life went on. The atrium was rather like a central courtyard in the house with a rectangular opening in the roof above it (the compluvium) providing air and light. A rectangular basin in the ground (impluvium) corresponded to the opening above in order to collect rain water. All major living areas of Roman homes had direct access to the atrium.<br># Impluvium: A rectangular section dug into the ground of the atrium into which rain water was collected as and when it fell in from the compluvium.<br># Triclinium: The dining room<br># Piscina: Pool/fountain in the centre of the peristyle/garden.<br># Posticum: Back entrance to the house.<br># Tablinum: In Rome's earliest days the tablinum was the pater familias' private study. A sort of drawing room or lounge.<br># Oecus: A hall which could be used for receptions and meetings with friends.<br># * Villas would even have their own roman baths. In their simplest form there would be two rooms: the first would be used as changing room and as Tepidarium (luke warm water bath). The second was the Caldarium (Hot water bath). The rooms would have few if any windows in order to preserve the heat of the water. The bath might therefore be excavated in a basement area where it would be easiest to conserve heat.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; * *The richest houses would have an extra bath called a Frigidarium (an indoor cold bath) and a Natatio (an open air swimming pool).</span></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><div align="center">(http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb395/Angzyn/RomanHome.png)</div><br><div class="floatright">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Ancient%20Rome/Interiors/PosticumDoorToStreet01.jpg)</div>House of Caelius; they where not the richest family in Rome, but they where one of the most renown when it came to life around the arena. Their wine was good but not the best, however, their Gladiators where prized by any that saw them fight. Fierce beings that fought like the God of War and Death himself. The blood of their opponents was quick to rain upon the sand. Marcus Caelius was their Lanista, like his father and his father’s father. The wine fields being given to him when he married his second wife whom he married after first wife died not long after the birth of his first son. <br><br>With his second wife he had a second son….and a daughter who would fetch a high Tocher (Dowry) for both her beauty and family’s status among the people of Rome. A price that Marcus was not willing to pay for any man to take his child’s hand. No, the money could be better spent investing into their family. Mostly his beloved Gladiators. Something that quickly grew sour on the young Ovinus’ tongue. Both her mother and brothers had tried to reason with her, explain to her the reason but still the thought of not marrying did not sit well with the young girl. <br><br>After all she was growing into a fine young woman at the age of seventeen and had needs that only a man could fill. <br><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Ancient%20Rome/Interiors/Hortus01.jpg)</div>Yet, her days where spent among the walls of her father’s villa. A home the arena winnings paid for. The Fauces, the front door and entry way of the home, was large and grand. The door itself made from wood from a far off land that Ovinus had never heard of. Leading into the large Atrium with it’s vast Impluvium. The compluvium over head a rich red color with its large opening over the Impluvium to let in fresh rain water along with the bright sun and clean air. From there one could enter the baths or the Oecus, the room in which most of the family receptions and meeting took place when they wished to host their friends. <br><br>Marcus’ Tablinum could also be found connected to the Atrium. The slave quarters found out of the eye of the public by ways of the Alas.&nbsp; <br><br>Past the Atrium was the peristyle with its piscine. All the family and guest cubiculum’s found around the grand garden area. As was the Culina and Triclinium. Toward the back of the house was finally the large closed in garden called the Hortus. And in the Hortus was the balcony that looked over the Gladiator’s training yard. It was here the Oecu spent most her time. Watching her father’s warriors train and fight. A strange lust starting to build inside her that she had never felt as a child. <br><br>She had always loved her father’s Gladiators, even as a child. Yet, as time went on and she grew in age the feelings she had for these men seemed to change. Something the young woman had never truly felt before. Often, even as a child her mother scolded her for spending to much time upon the Balcony watching such things. But she could not help it. She found it relaxing, peaceful….her own sanctuary from her family’s will to keep her locked away from a world she had never really seen. Or at less that’s how the young woman felt. Her imagination keeping her happy for the time being. Dreams of a life she might never have and some might thing of as foolish.<br><div class="floatright">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Ancient%20Rome/Interiors/A-Family-Meal.jpg)</div>Even now she was there in her own little world. With her slave standing by, bright eyes watching over the men below as the started their early morning training. Hell, the cock’s had not even started to crow yet. The sun just peeking over the mountains to the East. The cool air signaling the arrival of the autumn months, as if one could not see season coming from the leaves turning. Already the trees in the peristyle and hortus had started to turn. Ovinus loved this time of year. The colors, the smells of the harvest, even the wine from this time of year tasted better to her. Plus, there was just something magical about this season that only made her heart flutter.<br><br>Already fresh bread could be smelt cooking in the Culina, eyes catching view of a few slaves picking fresh fruit from the trees in the hortus. This signaled to her that her father, mother and brothers would be awaking soon and a new day was soon to start. The slaves about to be busy fetching both water for baths and drink as well as wine. Dinner and lunch would start to be cooked and prepared for later on in the day. Plus seeing it was the end of the month already her father’s new shipment of Gladiators would be arriving around high noon. <br>Today would indeed prove itself a busy one…
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keala Mensha Khaine</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 03:43:58</strong>
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				Volrath rolled forward under his sparring partner's wild swing, coming up behind him and swiftly knocking the man from his feet with a swift elbow to the back of his head. Slowly he looked about, watching the others continue to spar, the clash of their wooden training swords and shields filling the training grounds. Some of them still looked sluggish and weak, never quite following the instructions of Lucious Marius, a lesson they wouldn't live long to regret. Volrath grudgingly admitted that the man knew how to fight, and he respected the Roman cur for that. These fools did not live the life Volrath had, nor had the raw primal fury of a Norse berserker to make up for their lack of warrior skill. Odin would not turn his eye upon them like he had Volrath, and for this, he did not pity them. Better they die soon then waste the time of everyone in the House of Caelius. <br><br>Caelius was a fair man...for a Roman. He rewarded those who fought well and with honor...he gave to those who took what was there for the taking, a man such as Volrath. In truth...Volrath enjoyed the fighting...and the slaughtering most. The rewards heaped upon him for doing what he would now just gladly do anyways were an extra bonus, but not why he fought anymore. There were days even that Volrath wondered why he continued to fight...thought that maybe he should just end his long life of slavery in the arena someday. But then...the minute he picked up a sword and he smelt the tang of copper in the air as the blood was spilt...all such thoughts left him. He was <em>alive</em> again. Odin would take him to Valhalla's halls when he wanted him, but until then, the slaughter would continue until someone was found worthy to end his life. <br><br>Kicking dust at his training partner as he tried to rise to his feet, Volrath let his gaze float up to the balcony for a moment and rest upon Ovinus. Ovinus was a rare thing of beauty in his small world. A Roman bitch for sure...just like all the rest. Spoiled just like all the other Roman women...though Volrath often wondered if their was a difference between the men &amp; women of Rome...they all seemed so weak and pampered, everything they had given to them. Despite himself, there were days he found himself lusting after the young supple flesh of the girl. Pushing such thoughts from his mind, he tore his gaze from her and went back to the task at hand...teaching the young Roman how a true Norse warrior fought. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 04:00:18</strong>
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				Paniz<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b266/Ivypen/pets/secrets/paniz.jpg)</div>Pan's day had started like any slaves day starts. Waking up before the sun in order to prepare everything for her master. Though Pan herself woke up much earlier than all the other slaves becuase her mistress had a liking for waking up when the rest of them did. Meaning that if Pan wanted to please her mistress, her day started an hour before any of the other women in her room were to wake. She was used to it now; and it didn't seem to affect her as much as it once had. She was quiet as she moved from the pile of sleeping women, having curled into Atra at sometime during the night. She smiled down at the black beauty and wrapped what little blanket there was left over her. Always feeling bad when ever she took away any extra heat from the pile. Though it seemed that Melete was quite comfortable in the center of the group; arms wrapped around who ever was nearest to her in a possessive sort of way. She shook her head with a smile and reached around in the dark; though her eyes had adjusted for some flint to strike up a small flash for a candle. Once done, she quickly dressed; pulling her hair back and washing her face out in the freezing cold water laid out the night before before moving out to start warming her mistress' bath water. And to prepare her breakfast. <br><br>When all was done and everything was properly prepared she heard what sounded like Melet stirring to come and start the other preparations for breakfast. Smiling to herself becuase she was now fully awake; she carried the water to her mistresses room and poured it into the bath; laying the jugs down to go over to her bed and sit on it to gently wake her. Once accomplished she finished filling the bath and helped her mistress bathe and get dressed, before accompanying her out to the balcony with her breakfast in hand. <br><br>She gently laid it out on a table as she began preparing it for her; handing her a cup should she want something to drink and standing up a little straighter to watch as the gladiators did their training. They were big beasts. But it was exciting none the less to watch them go about their training... One of them even seemed to be looking up at them. Pan quickly moved back into the shadows, knowing better then to think it was her that they were looking at. She moved to her mistresses side and squatted down to look up at her. "Is there anything else you might like?" She asked in a friendly tone. Truly believing Ovinus to be her best friend; but knowing better then to ever say that. <br><br>Of course they both knew what she was doing; trying to distract Ovinus from the gladiators. Because it would be Pan to be punished; should Ovinus do anything deemed unworthy of her status. And though she only wished for her mistress to be happy... She still could not fight the fear of punishment. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keith</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 04:14:58</strong>
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				Lucious Marius (http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a322/Kyodaiki/1272791244793-1.jpg?t=1286057022), or Cato, was a man of no great height but unmistakeable stature. Trained in combat, bathed in blood for nearly as long as he could remember, it simply felt unnatural not to be armed. It was rare for him not to wear his Spartha on his hip, while his whip rested oposite of it. There was no doubt he knew how to use both, but he did not use the whip often. When it was applied, it was well earned.<br><br>But most of the curs that would think to be called Gladiators did not even deserve it's lash. The sands would take the weak in the coming months, but it sickened him to watch over them while they floundered about, ignoring his experiance due to fear, ignorance, or arrogance. All the same he watched over them, not for their potential, but for their worth in coin. Money had exchanged hands for them, although he suspected that a good number of them would be little more then fodder for beasts, or to be beaten by the skilled.<br><br>Only a sparse few interested him, his gray eyes drifted over them almost tiredly. He noticed the Norse glancing to the balcony, knew why he did, but said nothing. No, if he could take the time to look from his opponent then he deserved a look, and he would get no more. Instead of unleashing the whip on him he glanced to the balcony as well, brow arched as he glanced up at his employer's daughter. Being older gave one certain advantages in experiance, he could see subtle changes in the girl, but it wasn't his place to speak of it. But he couldn't help but be curious what the slave whispered in her ear.<br><br><em>No matter,</em> he thought. His charge was bellow, wooden swords bruising flesh and muscle in preperation for death. And until the first few of them died they would not turn to him. Death, even to a slave, was a powerful motivation.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 04:56:57</strong>
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				ATRA<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a1/Atra02.jpg)</div> I stirred in half-sleep as there was movement and looking up through part-closed eyes saw Pan washing at the bowl, then dressing and disappearing to go to her duties attending on the Young Mistress. I lay back on the straw pallet a few minutes but the changing tones of the darkness paling in the room and the beginning of the dawn birdsong told me it was time I should be about.<br><br>Crawling from the bed and folding the blankets neatly I washed quickly in the water Pan had used, making sure to leave the rest of the clean water for Melete. I washed my face and chest and under my arms and between my legs, drying myself on the cloth provided, then, playing my usual pre-dawn games I went about my early chores quite naked. Away from the eyes of Master and Mistress I was able to enjoy this cool time of day when the air at this season was fresh and made my skin tingle.<br><br>Silently I scampered out and through the <em>peristylium</em>, the air fresh with the scent of the flowers and clean with the chuckle of water from the fountain. Reaching the <em>culina</em> my first job was to light and stoke the fire under the bread ovens, the ash from yesterday having been disposed of late last night. After that I replaced the firewood I had used by bringing in more from the lumber pile in the small store near the <em>posticum</em>.<br><br>That done, water was next. The house had a large cistern which was below the floor and above the hot air flues that warmed it. This water was drawn off for the wash bowls in the Master and Mistress' rooms as well as the Young Masters and the Young Mistress. We had cold of course but they had heated water and now the personal slaves would be drawing from the cistern so that it would need refilling. The main baths later in the day would need topping up also for when the family and their guests took their formal baths which might go on for some time if the men had business to discuss or the ladies their schemes to arrange. A great deal of water was used by the household in the day. I ran outside into the <em>hortus</em> where behind the <em>posticum</em> wall was the well. Deep and fresh and cold the water was drawn up by a pump but fortunately the linked buckets were weighted by a beam opposite that had a large rock in a leather sack and so by very little effort I could push down on the arm, fill the bucket and then push down on the other end to lift it and tip it out into the stone basin that ran under the <em>posticum</em> floor by a flue, the flue running down gently to the cistern. The fire under the cistern was fed by an oven in the far wall of the <em>culina</em> but this was a big fire that needed a lot of wood and so one of the men tended that.<br><br>It wasn't hard work but it took some time to fill the cistern back up and only when I was finished and the pale light of dawn was brightening the sky could I stop. I stood still in the crisp air and filled my lungs with the scents of herbs and flowers in the garden. I lifted my arms and stood on tip-toe and had a lovely long stretch, groaning with the joy of feeling all my muscles go taut.<br><br>Pan would be done attending to Young Mistress soon, so I had only a few minutes. I ran back into the <em>culina</em>, took a basket from the shelf and a knife and went back outside. There was thyme to cut, and dill, and rosemary and a few of the small hot peppers were ripe, their orange skins round like fat berries. I cut small sprigs of a few more herbs and taking a last deep breath of the fresh garden air ran inside to chop up the herbs and place them in their various muslin bags to keep dry and fresh for the days meals seasonings.<br><br>I was done. I washed my hands and then, before even Young Mistress would come from her room with Pan, all finely washed and robed and with her hair perfect I was back in our slave's bedroom and putting on my simple robe (http://img.costumecraze.com/images/vendors/rubies/90228-large.jpg). After that I had a moment to sweep the floor of the <em>atrium</em> of leaves that had begun to fall through the roof and carefully use the wooden rake to skim away those floating in the <em>impluvium</em>. That done, I washed the whole atrium floor down with a mop before returning to the <em>culina</em> where it was time to bake bread.<br><br>On the way there I saw Young Mistress with Pan in attendance making her way towards her balcony. I of course stopped behind her and remained silent, head bowed until she had gone out to the <em>hortus</em>, then got on with my work. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Falanor</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 05:28:23</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><em>Antonius Valerianus Iustinianus ~ In hell...on his way to the first level</em></span></div><br><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ad/Antonius.jpg)</div><br>The day was warm, the sun not yet fully above the horizon as his chains clinked; each one a harpy's cry reminding him why he was here.&nbsp; The Imperial Daughter, Maximiliana, sentenced him to death with her asps tongue.&nbsp; It was just a few hours ago that she had lied to her father; a father that knew it was a lie but the public spectacle she made at the festival demanded he take action.&nbsp; The Emperor was a good man, honorable with those he knew he could trust.&nbsp; Antonius was one of those that he could trust and the Praetorian never betrayed that trust in him.<br><br>So to spare his life and give him have a fighting chance at eking out a few more days before meeting with Pluto's judgment for his actions in life; he trudged forward with his friend's Avitus and Drusus, both members of the Praetorian Guard, escorting him to his own personal hell.&nbsp; The silence between the three was nearly deafening, the crowds watching as they moved through the streets of Rome to Antonius' new master.<br><br>“Caelius is a good house, Antonius...”&nbsp; Drusus, a head shorter than the prisoner and much more hairy than the tall Roman, said breaking the silence.<br><br>“Yeah, they take care of their...property...”&nbsp; Avitus added.&nbsp; Avitus was much older than the both of them, was thinner of frame and his hair graying at the wings.<br><br>“Property...”&nbsp; Antonius said softly.&nbsp; The word tasted of the bitterest of wines.<br><br>They rounded the corner with the Praetorian's dressed in their fine purple garb and Antonius in his plain slave's clothing that barely covered his chest, the thick brown leather belt wrapped tightly at the waist where Antonius' manacles linked themselves to.&nbsp; The destination a scant few yards from him, a rage threatened to leap from his chest.&nbsp; Antonius breathed heavily trying to calm it.<br><br>The guards stopped turning to him and spoke, “We're sorry this happened, brother.” The shorter of the pair said that they still called him a brother to the guard was of small solace to the man in chains.&nbsp; He had none of the rights or privileges of his status anymore.&nbsp; It was amazing how much you took for granted when you could have just about anything you wanted.<br><br>Nodding silently he continued his walk forward.&nbsp; Nothing could stop this moment short of a miracle from Jupiter or Juno, he was now the property of one Marcus Caelius-Germanicus.&nbsp; It bit at him hard, festering and burning.&nbsp; He was a free man, beholden only to the Emperor himself, and now he had nothing.<br><br>The acrid taste in the back of his throat disgusted him.&nbsp; It felt of cowardice and he was not a man to be called a coward.&nbsp; “That the new one?&nbsp; You're early”, the large man said at the gate of the Oecus to the Praetorian's.&nbsp; The look they cast to the man stopped any further impudence.&nbsp; Insult a member of the Guard and you had better be linked <em>closely</em> to the Emperor himself.&nbsp; <br><br>“We...we'll take him from here, Praetorians.”<br><br>The pair gave a barely perceptible nods to Antonius, the only sign of their farewell.&nbsp; Back straight, regimentally so, Antonius walked forward to his new <em>life</em>.&nbsp; A pair of men fell in step beside him and escorted his way to the Training yard to allow for him to be presented properly to his new owners.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 09:01:49</strong>
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				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...
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Primarch</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 14:45:44</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: left;">(http://i232.photobucket.com/albums/ee48/Gevaden/barbarian_warrior-1.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">Ríoghan</span></div> <br><div style="text-align: left;">Ríoghan Mac Carthaigh was one of the younger Gladiators at just twenty-two years old, he also has less victories in the Arena then most others, the victories he had, <em>such victories</em>. When he saw his own blood hit the sands of the arena <em>something</em> took over. A desire to live and see the sweet, green rolling hills of his home. He was a warrior of quite some ability, but it was a primal thing, an instinct that took over that had seen him through each win. Skills perfected by requirement.</div> <br><br><div style="text-align: right;">Killer instincts were neither here nor there at the moment however, for Ríoghan was at his daily training. Wooden utensils in hand he sparred with a partner, a Gaul with three years arena experience over the child of Hibernia, as the Romans called his home. There was little spirit in their training at the moment however, it had slipped into a series of motions that kept repeating each other. Step, swing high, parry left, parry right, low swing, step back, shield and repeat. The Celt, as they had come to call him, noticed this lax and took it upon himself to shake up what was happening, where normally he'd make his first parry with his wooden sword, The Celt brought up his shield to forcibly batter the Gaul's sword arm down, before bringing up his foot and booting his sparring partner to the floor. He'd have let out a heart laugh normally (being such a modest fellow) but knew it was better to keep his head low in this place. His pride would only be internal. Somewhere...somewhen, he had become quite good at the techniques they taught at these "Lanistas," the word was so strange, so alien to someone used to speaking a very different language.</div> <br><br><div style="text-align: left;">The sun, in these lands was extremely harsh. He had never thought he'd say it, not in all of his life. But he missed the rain. He had remembered once, when he was a boy, he had a dream that it stopped raining. Now, his chest was exposed to a sun that had <em>changed the colour of his skin</em>. He was darker, he had seen it in his reflection in the water. Being here had taught him many things, he could trash and lash out like the "savage" they thought he was, like a wild beast, that would get him killed though and his brothers back home would never know what happened to him. If he kept his head down, won in the arena and practiced to perfect on these sands....one day he would be free. It might not be soon, but one day. When he would return home, it would be glorious.</div> <br><br><div style="text-align: right;">The daughter was here, on her balcony with one of her slaves. Being a slave warrior had taught him something else....when offered something, take it. They scraps they fed on were not sufficient for a warrior, so when something went well in the house and celebrations trickled down to the slaves, <em>take everything</em>. Wine....real meat....cheese (he didn't actually like cheese, but these days he ate as much as he could)....fish and of course, the young lasses. There were several women he considered desirable, certainly worth many cattle to a father. There was one who must have spent a very long time in these lands indeed, for her skin was darker then anything he had ever seen!</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keith</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 15:20:12</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a322/Kyodaiki/james-purefoy-rome.jpg)</div><br>Cassius woke from bed early, the long trip home the previous day had seen him retire in early the previous evening, he did not need to be awoken by slave nor rooster. From what he could tell it had been light for some time when his eyes opened. He wondered briefly if breakfast had even been started yet, but his discomfort did not gnaw at his stomach, it had been insisted that he at least eat before he retired to his room.<br><br>After shifting out of bed, his mind not fully awake, but eyes open and aware he went about dressing himself quietly. Slipping into the light white robes of a toga, the slight chill of not sleeping under heavy covers urging him to pull on the second layer, up over his shoulder, and sighed as warmth began to gather. Before he left to seek out breakfast, or company, he reached to his dagger, the silver pommel, black grip, and sheathe standing out starkly to his white robes. But in fact he would look odd without it, he went practically no where without at least one in the pair of three.<br><br>In his Father's estate he felt no need for the blade's sisters, and thus he left them under the pillows of his bed, where they rested while he slept.<br><br>His bare feet sounded softly through the estate as he walked out of his chambers, hand rested casually on the hilt of his dagger out of habit, heading to the loudest sounds, that of the gladiators. Upon arriving at the upper balcony he noted that his Sister had gathered with two slaves, looking down on their father's Gladiators. He understood his sister's fascination, it was the most entertaining thing to be seen at home.<br><br>With a very faint smile, something warm and open for his Sister, he walked to her side and rested an arm over her shoulders. Ignoring the presence of Paniz, his sister's companion as much as her slave. Cassius lightly held his Sister to his side. "Dear Sister, it is good to see you. I had missed you upon my arrival." Warm brown eyes looked down to her, a warmth that was sadly lacking over the past few years still radiated somewhere deep within for his Sister. Although the same could be said for his Mother as well, but that was likely all the warmth he felt left to him.<br><br>Briefly he glanced down to the training grounds, giving a respectful nod to his Lucious, the man taught him much and earned respct. He reminded him of his father, if only in the fact that they had both seen war. They had that in common, but unlike his Father after the wars the old General had nothing to return to. "I see you still enjoy watching them." He said without turning his head to his Sister, his tone holding a weight meant to make her think that he had some insight into why she watched. It wouldn't be hard to assume so, he had a keen insight, but it took time. However when he made people believe he had the insight already they would loosen their tongue to defend themselves before he could accuse them, and the technique had been polished in his dealings.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 16:36:41</strong>
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				ATRA<br><br>The household was awakening, the other slaves were about now doing their various jobs and from beyond the balcony I could hear the clicking of wood on wood and the calls of the men as they practised their fighting. I would have loved to have gone to watch them moving and bending, twisting and striking, their muscles shifting and their sweat rising... but... I sighed. I had work to do and if I didn't do it I would be whipped.<br><br>Ooh! The Young Master went by the <em>culina</em> doorway on his way in that direction. He must have arrived late last night long after I had gone to sleep. One of the male slaves would have served him as he readied for bed after his travels. We had been told of course that he was returning but I had expected him today. While crushing mint in the mortar and pestle I stuck my head round the door and watched his back receding as he made his way across the <em>hortus</em> towards the balcony steps. I liked Young Master. He was kind and had a pleasant face and a straight back.<br><br>I hummed a little tune as I went back to my work, my step suddenly a little lighter.<br><br>I left the flat loaves slowly rising in the bake oven and began to take in dishes of food to the <em>triculinium</em> placing them in the centre of the group of couches on the long table. I placed out the cold food first - the soft corn-dough cakes and the wheat cakes, the fruit and the honey snaps, the figs wrapped in vine leaves and drizzled in oil and the fresh milk and water jugs with lemons and oranges sliced and standing by should the family wish to add zest to their water.<br><br>The hot food would be served as the family went in to dine, but I took the loaves from the oven and let them cool before breaking them into fresh warm sweet smelling chunks and piling the pieces in a bowl to be dipped in milk and honey or in salted oil as the diners preferred. There was also the hot porridge and even warmed milk seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg and sweetened with a little honey if that was preferable to their stomachs. Lastly there were the meat cakes of minced beef rolled with breadcrumbs and finely diced onions and green peppers which could be dipped in a sweet sauce or in a hot spicy one made from a paste of olive oil, chopped hot small peppers and herbs.<br><br>Master and Mistress would be up soon. I waited, keeping the cooked food hot on the stone shelf over the oven whilst remaining in the <em>triculinium</em> doorway bearing a long fan of peacock feathers that I used to keep the insects away from the prepared meal. My stomach was grumbling but of course I had eaten nothing yet - merely tasted the dishes to ensure they were properly cooked. My breakfast would be the leftovers if there were any, or bread dipped in olive oil if not.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lady Reign</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 16:53:42</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i216.photobucket.com/albums/cc69/avicela/Miscellaneous%20Characters/Helen_of_Troy__Repost_by_nerplexing.jpg)</div><span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A pale and slender hand—one that had never known hard work nor common home duties—slid over the edge of expensive linens sheets. The delicate wrist bounced twice before it slid back beneath the sheet and a pair of steel gray eyes groggily greeted the morning light. Focusing first on a decanter of un-watered wine, Amarantha let out a pampered sigh from the dull pain residing in the forefront of her head. There was a wanting of closing her eyes again and falling back into slumber, but the house was awakening and her husband said there were to be new slaves delivered. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A naked form rose up from the bed with arms outstretched in a luxurious fashion in order to stir still sleeping limbs. Long blond tresses played around the inset dimples of her lower back as Amarantha placed her feet upon the cold floor. Once the hardest part of her morning was over with—getting out of bed—it did not take long for the woman to drape a rather sheer chiton over her shoulders. The dressing of her hair could wait for a little while longer and until after she had broken her fast. After all, there was no guests to be had at their villa this early in the morning and there were only slaves not even to be glanced at twice.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Walking through her home, Amarantha plucked a fig from the lavish table that Atra had set, though of course without thanks to the dark-skinned slave girl. "Tell Melete that I want a milk bath today after the introduction of the new slaves. My skin is feeling dry from the air," Amarantha stated to Atra off handedly while continuing on through the home. Yes, a lovely milk bath would do wonders and make her skin so very soft after she viewed the lowly beings that were to be delivered shortly. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Taking the daintiest bites of her fig, the notable woman paused right in the opening of the balcony to view Cassius and Ovinus. Such a sweet sight they were—standing there watching the gladiators and slaves pretend fight. "Ovinus hardly pries those eyes away from the slave men, Cassius. Perhaps you should introduce her to more interesting hobbies instead of sitting here and gawking at the slaves. It's most unbecoming of a woman with stature ... however little it may be for the moment," their mother had said, "I thought you would still be at sleep this early from your travels". A warm smile had graced her lips while viewing the two of them, though when those gray eyes had settled upon her daughter who was almost the spitting image of herself, there was a darkness behind them. A shame that Amarantha had passed all her beauty onto that girl and now all Ovinus wish to do was squander it on petty games of slaves and beasts. <br></span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 18:15:27</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b266/Ivypen/pets/secrets/melete.jpg)</div> Melete woke up like she always woke up; watching Atra getting ready for the day with a smile on her lips. There was nothing really sexual about it; she just liked to watch Atra bounce around in her cheery way; it was like she fed off of some of the energy and it helped her to get ready for her own day. She would have woken up to watch Pan if she was anywhere near as cheery as Atra was in the morning. Melete started off her day a bit more relaxed then the other slaves; she moved a bit slower but still got the work done that was expected of her. <br><br>She stretched in a fluid sort of movement and yawned content to herself; today was going to be a good day, she could feel it in her bones. She got up and moved to the washbasin, happy to have such thoughtful young girls working with her; becuase she'd been in households before where some bitches used up all the clean water before she or anyone else could even get to it. Taking a rag she quickly washed herself off; making sure to get all over herself of course. This was probably the one thing she DID do in a fast way; becuase damn, was that water cold. Once acceptably clean she quickly moved to dry herself off; grabbing for her own clothes that had been neatly laid out the night before and wrapping herself up in them. She was happy that she wasn't a free woman sometimes in the morning when she dressed; becuase otherwise this might have become a chore; even a process with all the layers those women had to wear. once done with that she moved off to the side and began combing out her hair and putting it up in a half-assed sort of a fashion. She personally liked her hair to look a little messy. She wasn't sure why but it always seemed to make her look younger; something she was happy to have. <br><br>Once dressed and ready to face her duties she walked out of the slave quarters and through the Alas towards the culina; she was one of the cooks after all and gods knows you couldn't expect Pan to cook anything. Not that she was a bad slave or cook of course; just that she took pride in serving the masters youngest and would hate to leave her side. And quite frankly with some of the rumors that Mel has heard~ she was probably sticking so close to her to save her own skin. Mel smiled at that thought; walking into the culina to see Atra running around with herbs and getting the water ready for the baths sure to be happening soon. <br><br>It really was nice to be in a higher up position; becuase to be honest; though she was far from old; she was getting up there and ever since her 32nd birthday she's been finding it just a little harder to have the same energy as some of the younger slaves did. Not that she didn't still have 'energy' of course; just now it seemed that she wasn't quite able to move as fast as some of the younger girls. And the easier her jobs were; the less she felt that way; and the easier it was to be pleasant in the company of others. <br><br>She quickly pulled together the ingredients for the bread; happy to see Atra had already laid them out for her and started to mix them together; adding the appropriate amounts of things as she did so, making sure to make a few that were specifically sweet; and ones that were plain. Knowing how much some of the gladiators loved the sweet bread, and how it put them in such a better mood for the day. She smiled widely to herself; she loved it when the gladiators were in a good mood from something they'd eaten; becuase then it made them think about her. And usually it made them want to thank her. Something she was always willing to receive from the young ones. Especially from Korbis, even if he wasn't one of the young ones anymore. She chuckled to herself at that thought and quickly shook it from her mind, kneading the dough together; putting all of the force she could muster into it. <em>'At least I still have my upper body strength.'</em> she thought to herself in a satisfied sort of a way. <br><br>As she continued to pound and roll the bread into submission she lifted her gaze to see Atra just standing there; and she gave a deep frown. Something she was often loathe to do considering the fact that it made her look older then she was.&nbsp; <strong>"It must be nice to have so much free time."</strong> She chided her as she came back to work. <strong>"You don't need to be staring after the masters of this house do you understand me Atra? If you want something to occupy your time; then go cut up those fruits over there. But don't just stand around gawking."</strong> She didn't really say it in a harsh tone; though it was certainly a reprimand. Melete loved Atra after all; she loved all of the other slaves that she worked with to a certain extent. And she certainly didn't want to see them get into trouble; especially the pretty ones. <br><br>She sighed and stood a little straighter; stretching out her arms again. She hated how they seemed to get sore from just this... Was she really getting that much older? Sure the life of a slave meant you fell a part quicker... but she was never really a base slave. She had a trade; she got the easier jobs... But her body was still starting to decline. Not fast at all mind you. She could still get everything done that she needed! she was just a bit more sore or tired after wards. No big deal. <br><br><strong>"I'm sorry darling."</strong> She purred to Atra in apology after a few moments, she knew how much Atra hated to be yelled at. <strong>"I just don't want to give the masters any reason to hurt you. That's all."</strong> She added on; pulling out her knife and making distinct cuts on the loaves of bread to signal which were and were not sweet bread. And then she took one of each aside and cut it up a few times; making sure that when it rose it wouldn't look at all appetizing. That was her little way of making sure the girls and her had something to eat at the end of all this. Having worked it out as a system long ago; even teaching it to some of the other slaves from other households. Always making sure that those with in her rank knew what it meant. And not to take advantage of it. <br><br>Melete moved from the bread now; leaving them to sit for a few moments as she moved over to Atra and kissed her on the cheek affectionately. <strong>"Today we get some new blood~"</strong> She sing songed in a playful way; wanting to see her in her usual cheery mood again as she pulled the fruit over to her to cut it and set it out in a slightly messy order; knowing Atra would be able to make it look much lovelier. She continued to talk as she continued to chop. <strong>"Some gladiators and maybe a slave or two; though you didn't hear that from me of course."</strong> She said with a smile and a laugh to her voice;&nbsp; pointing her knife at her in a mock serious fashion. No one EVER heard it from her after all. And if they did; then they never heard it; or anything else from her ever again.<br><br>Once done with that she moved away from Atra, letting her go and set out the fruit as she saw fit; grabbing a few pitchers and jugs; filling one or two with wine; one with a small amount of water and then some wine; and then one with just water. She smiled down at them. The only things they didn't have was that mead rubbish some of the gladiators were always going on about. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 20:05:55</strong>
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				The steady clunk of wood striking wood, and occasionally flesh,&nbsp; could be heard throughout the training square Korbis was already sparring against one of the other gladiators. He didn't know the man's name and truth be told he didn't care to. The man was slow, inaccurate, and a complete fool. The fact that he was muscle bound to the point that his body seemed to be a single slab of meat didn't do anything to hide his lack of skill. It would only mean that he would be all the more disappointing to any who bet on him when he entered the arena....if he even made it that far.<br><br><br>&nbsp;Korbis continued to block the man's ineffective strikes as he let his mind wander and review his day so far. He'd woken up as he always did. His eyelids slowly parting and the feeling entering his body. From there he'd rolled out of bed without a scrap of clothing on his body. Some time back lanista had seen fit that he, as house champion, be given a slightly more comfortable bed than his fellows. Something that Korbis was great full for every time he woke or went to sleep. From his bed he had immediately suck to his knees before his modest shrine. He spent several minutes in prayer to his gods. They were not the gods of the Romans; nor did he wish them to be. For while their demands were greater so were the eventual rewards that awaited their followers. <br><br><br>After his prayers he had stood up and dressed himself in his robes taking care to insure that the house's colors were unsoiled. He was quite proud of the trim that he was allowed to carry on his clothing. Another symbol of the honor and prestige he'd won for the family Caelius over his years of service. And my how those years had seemed to stretch on. Eleven of them had seen him within these walls, he still remembered the first day he'd arrived. Little more than a pup not even having sharpened his baby teeth. Even after his previous work he would never have believed that he could rise so high... But such were the gifts of the gods when one made the proper offerings to them. <br><br><br>Once dressed he had awaited the call to training and made his way out to train once it had sounded. It hadn't taken him long to best the first few sparring partners he was pitted against. Fools that they were, and now here he was, fighting against another such fool. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the image of several members of the Lanista's family standing at the balcony. <em>I'll give them a show!</em> He thought to himself, bringing his focus back on the fight that he was still taking part in. In his right hand he held a wooden Falcata and in his left he held a blunted spear. He'd chosen the spear over his wooden Flaxian sword for his first few rounds of sparring. The ability to simply thrust it forward into an opening in his opponent's defense meant that against fools like the one before him he could essentially end the fight when he became bored with a single quick strike. <br><br><br>A cruel smile spread across his face very similar to the one he often wore when fighting in the arena. Many times this smile had been the last expression his opponent would ever see before he was at the feat of his gods. His sparring partner wielded a gladius and shield, Korbis quickly took a step back as the other man came at him with an overhead vertical strike. With his feet now properly braced he was able to smoothly block the blow with his Falcata. But rather than striking at the man's sword he struck out a bit lower driving what would have been the unsharpened side of his Falcata into the man's wrist. As he expected the man lost his grip on his weapon which went sailing forward past Korbis's head and onto the ground. Before his opponent could even react Korbis was pressing his advantage. Striking several times with his Falcata each blow landing against the man's shield as he forced him to give ground under the rain of blows. He didn't intend for any of them to actually strike the man himself. He just wanted to force the man into hiding behind his shield. After several more strikes had followed Korbis decide it was time to end things. Taking a large step forward and to the left he brought his Falcata against the edge of his sparring partner's shield in a cross body swing from left to right. The man was holding his shield in his right hand and so the blow swung him just off his balance. Before he could regain his footing Korbis had sidestepped his large shield and drove his 'spear' forward the blunt tip striking the side of the man's neck. Had it been a real fight he would find himself unable to stop from bleeding to death. As it was he simply found himself defeated. "You're done" Korbis said to him "now go find me someone else to beat."<br><br><br>"mrrow" whispered Korbis's cat as it lay in the shade watching it's master move about in the sun. <br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>08-10-2010, 20:12:55</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://www.panhistoria.com/Stacks/Novels/Character_Homes/homedirs/1302images/senator%20lucius.gif)</div>Marcus Caelius stood in his tablinum, staring down at the document on his desk. It was a litany of payments, monies owed, for goods, services, luxuries, having delt with the finances of running an army, a household seemed simple by comparison, the trick being to always be owed more, than you owed others, and house Caelius was certainly that.<br><br>He closed the bound pages that represented the balance sheet for the household, and returned it to its place, a drawer in a large chest that occupied the wall to the right of the desk, standing behind it, looking to door, as he was. The chest was a campaign trophy, constructed in Germania from the wood of a temple to some god or other. It, like the other trophies of his military career told a bit about him, the hard unwaivering, unafraid man, unwilling to accept the whims of mediocrity. He wore a toga, even indoors, over a light, white, tunic. He did so, because his toga was of lighter cloth, linen, and not thick wool, being a military man, then he wore a wool cloak outdoors, when it was required.<br><br>He ran a hald loosely over the pommel of his Gladius, which rested with his other weapons, on the wall opposite the document chest. It was not everyday one was brought a slave like one he was to recieve today. He'd accepted as a favour, there were still those who he respected within the Praetorian guard, and one of them owing him a favour, was worth much more than the cost of keeping even the most useless of slaves. Being a member of the Praetorian guard did not, by necessity make the man a soldier, but he supposed that odds were good that he could at least handle a blade. Either way, Lucious would test his skill, and if he was a weak man, he'd die the traitor's death he deserved, justice in Rome was quite profitable from time to time. There was always the chance of course, that the man could be more useful than even as a gladiator, and it was always his purpose to find out how, and exploit it. Little chance a traitor could even be put to good use as a Gladiator. The crowd would hate him, as they hated deserters, and even if he won, odds would never favour him thanks to the difficulty of making him popular.<br><br>This was the thinking that now got his blood flowing, and interested him in the politics of the city. The acquisition of power by destroying his enemy, or in the case of his place in rome, making what was his, yours, was something Marcus took very seriously.<br><br>He walked out of the tablinum and out into the atrium. He made his way toward the training area. Seeing his wife, he approached, hearing her speak as he apporached, and laughing quietly. "I would be disappointed if a son of mine did not travel well!" he said as he approached, finally coming to stand beside his wife, "how are you today, Ovinus...Cassius?" His preferences seemed clear, daughter first, sons second. There was also the slight implication that he expected his sons to travel well, because they did not travel far. His family held no other soliders, 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angzyn</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 05:33:11</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Ovinus<br>~Balcony~</span></span></div><div class="floatleft">(http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb395/Angzyn/My%20Characters/gcs_054_panorama-2002_martina_colombari_january.jpg)</div>Eyes could not help but fall on the Gladiator that looked up at her. A small smile crossing her lips, but short lived when Pan spoke up. The young mistress of the house turning to look at her friend and personal slave. The two had been together for as long as Ovinus could remember. Even if the girl was older then her mistress by a few years, the two had played together as children when Ovinus’ mother was not around. She could even remember sneaking Pan into her room during winter nights to help keep warm though they never told anyone….nothing happened but still it was not lady like.<br><br>“No I’m find for now,” hand waving some, though she did move away from the edge of the large balcony. A soft smile once again crossing her lips but this time aimed toward her slave. Though something else quickly caught her eye. There, coming up the stares, was her older brother Cassius. The younger of her two brothers, but still he was indeed her elder. She had not seen him in some time, but understood why. Walking up to him slowly as he made his way toward her. Letting him grab hold of her slightly to his side. His words did her ears good. “As it is you brother. I didn’t know you where back, what time of night did you get in?” <br><br>A hand slightly resting on his lower back as she once more looked over the balcony and watched the beast below train for the arena’s battle field. “That I do. Nothing else to do around here that mother and father would not disapprove of or scold me for.” Her words holding a bitter tone, but he might know why. Yet that was all she would say. Letting the time pass with her brother and enjoying it. Not even noticing that her mother walked up behind them.<br><br>Body jumping slightly when she heard her mother’s voice. Eyes narrowing slightly at her comment. Oh how she wanted to say something back. To tell her mother what had building inside ever sense she learned that her father would not pay her Tocher and with it all hopes of marriage. Watching as her family stood by his decision. “Morning mother. I hope the Gods blessed you with peaceful dreams.” <br><br>Looking over her mother’s shoulder when her father spoke. Seemed the family was gathering already in the early morning hours. “Well Father, and I hope you are the same? Is a new stock coming today?” Choice words being left out. Trying to hold a smile to her lips despite how she felt right now. Praying to the Gods to give her wisdom to understand her father’s choice. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Falanor</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 05:55:05</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><em>Antonius Valerianus Iustinianus ~ In hell...admiring the nice tapestries...</em></span></div><br><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ad/Antonius.jpg)</div><br>The villa was richly adorned in colorful tapestries depicting various gods and goddess or battles and even a ceremonial urn.&nbsp; <em>At least it looks nice...</em> he grinned to himself in thought.<br><br>“What are you smiling about, slave?”&nbsp; One of his escorts growled at him.<br><br>“Why be upset?&nbsp; I now know how my life will end...”&nbsp; he said in return.&nbsp; His voice was a deep warm timbre that held a slightly somber tone to it.&nbsp; There was a sense of calm in the certainty of his life ending in combat.&nbsp; <em>Perhaps I will see the Elysian Fields after all...</em>&nbsp; Slaves walked about doing the daily chores but they all stayed clear of the newest arrival as he was brought out to the training yards.<br><br>Hearing the sounds of combat, even if it was mock, his eyes lit up slightly.&nbsp; He'd always found some joy in combat; joy in the simplicity of the act itself.&nbsp; He'd always been very skilled at killing people often being praised for his efficiency at dealing with his opponent.<br><br>The hortus was filled with large and small men fighting with wooden swords and shields striking each other to learn the art of fighting.&nbsp; <em>Toy swords...killers and nothing more...no professionalism in them</em>, he thought to himself as the pair of men pushed him forward.<br><br>Finally in the open his eyes scanned the surroundings.&nbsp; On the balcony he could see who he only assumed was his <em>owner</em> sitting next to a rather striking woman and a younger man.&nbsp; Off a ways from the trio he saw a beautiful young girl watching and talking with the rest.&nbsp; The man on his left leaned over to the other and whispered, “Rufinus...you do the introduction this time...the Domius likes you better...”<br><br>“Cyprianus...you simpering coward, fine...”&nbsp; Clearing his throat the man and called up to the balcony, “Dominus Caelius, we bring you you're first new slave for the day!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Falanor</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 07:09:56</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><em>Ludolf...waking from a nights rest...</em></span></div><br><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/cf/BryceNewborne02.jpg)</div><br>His body ached as he stretched.&nbsp; The lashing he'd received the day earlier having not healed fully caused a hint of pain to flare through his back.&nbsp; Slowly he rose from his pallet on the floor of his <em>cubiculum</em> as his eyes adjusted to the light of the morning.<br><br><em>Such a dream...the fields...where was that?</em> He thought to himself as he stood wincing slightly at the pain.&nbsp; Looking over his form he smiled and was pleased to see no real damage had been done other than the few lashes that bit harder on his lower back.&nbsp; The muscles in his body rippled as he moved to fully examine himself and stretch them out for his daily chores.<br><br>Walking over to the basin he splashed some water on his face and quickly dried off to help wake himself up fully.&nbsp; Ludolf pulled his tunic on quickly and laced the sandals onto his feet before exiting his room.&nbsp; A part of him hated his life, he didn't fully understand why, but it often got him into trouble.&nbsp; Sometimes he could tell when his blood was going to get the better of him and could hold it off.&nbsp; Yet there were other times when something would hit him wrong and he'd disobey just to be difficult, <em>Thinking about running in those fields with...who were those people?</em><br><br>Ludolf had been taken from his tribe early in his life.&nbsp; Barely able to recall the people he'd once known as parents or any of his other kin he often had dreams of his youth.&nbsp; He could recall what it meant to be free, and to roam with that older man that called him by a child's name he no longer could recognize.<br><br>Racing down the hallway, dodging by other slaves, he made his way to the Culina; coming to a skidding to a halt before he got to the entrance.&nbsp; His head peeked around the corner of the doorway and saw the two women working away.&nbsp; A slight growl in his stomach got the better of his sensibilities and he quickly slipped inside and while the pretty older woman, Melete, was hugging the dark skinned girl.&nbsp; He softly padded through the room and snatched a hand out to snag a few grapes as he passed, hoping the pair didn't see him go.<br><br>He ran to the Atrium with his treat in hand almost barreling over a slave carrying the Dominus' toga's from the wash.&nbsp; When he arrived where he'd been assigned he gobbled down the grapes, quelling his growling stomach and walked through the room and pulled weeds from the plants stuffing them in a sack.<br><br>He heard a commotion outside and made his way to an portal in the wall to see what had been the cause.&nbsp; Ludolf hadn't expected the sight at all, the woman was bare with raven black hair and a face that could freeze his heart, and did.&nbsp; She was gorgeous, stunning, and her blue eyed gaze made his breath freeze as she walked past him.&nbsp; A sight that would be with him for all his years.&nbsp; <em>At least all the women here are beautiful...</em> he smiled to himself as he went back to his chores.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 08:43:32</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://img831.imageshack.us/img831/9251/gladiatrix24resized1.jpg) (http://img831.imageshack.us/i/gladiatrix24resized1.jpg/)<br><br>A wind swept through the grounds, bringing to her the scents of not only sweating bodies, blood, and dust, but the smells of food. Much to her chagrin, her stomach began to growl, but she ignored it, instead glancing towards the balcony above her, taking in the sight of an obvious family surrounded by servants. A glint came to her eyes, rosebud lips pulling into a thin line as her jaw clenched tight. Obviously the Master and his brood. Tossing her head to remove errant strands of raven hair from her face, her resolve hardened even more as a call came forth across the training ground. <br><br>" Dominus Caelius, we bring you your first new slave of the day!..."<br><br>Dominus Caelius. Her new Master. A roman. Her new enemy. It would be at this man she would stare now, taking in his every move, his posture, the way he leaned in towards a young woman he seemed to favor highly. A daughter perhaps? Another mental note. Anything, everything was tallied and filed away within her mind. She wasn't the first in this slave line, so she had a few moments to contemplate.<br><br>She would work to impress. She would be a noteworthy fighter in this arena. She would fight, and she would kill at this Caelius' orders, and she would make sure to do it with gusto. She would be noticed, she might even be commended eventually. Oh indeed, house Caelius would come to know the name Luigsech O' Ciardha. Especially when she finally killed the Master.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 10:17:23</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Paniz<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b266/Ivypen/pets/secrets/paniz.jpg)</div>Paniz smiled back to her young mistress when she said she was fine; becuase that meant she was doing her job well. That she was still giving the family that owned her reason to keep her. And it was always comforting to know that you were wanted; especially for a person of her status. Because it meant they would keep you around for that much longer, and it meant you had a roof over your head and <em>some</em> protection from the worst of the world. She'd nodded her head when her mistress started to get up and leave the balcony; hurrying over to the food that had been laid out, preparing it to be hefted up and onto her shoulder in a smooth motion and follow after her with it. It wasn't anything much of course. The young mistress ate light, but always liked to be prepared for her young mistress. <br><br>She immediately stopped though when the youngest son of her master came out and onto the balcony. Standing up and keeping quiet; making sure to avoid her eyes. Cassius was certainly not a mean master; and around his sister he was often kind. But she would still rather never take any chances of upsetting any of the family of this house. Oh gods... Here came the Mistress. It was always so stressful to be near her when ever Ovinus was in the same room. It just felt so tense be- And now here came her master. Pan nearly whimpered. But she kept it to herself; closing her eyes and taking in a quiet silent breath. A calm slave was a good slave. <br><br>Pan always got a little nervous when more then just her young mistress gathered together and she was the only one there to serve should they need anything. Always having a fear that she would fail them and then be punished as a result, or worse still, that her young mistress would get yelled at or scolded for not keeping Pan in line. They had both probably sobbed the hardest they'd ever done when Ovinus was forced to punish her for the first time. <br><br>She straightened her back and stood at complete attention; her hands clasped in front of her body in a sign of respect for her superiors; eyes averted though she stepped back towards the edge of the balcony so that she was out of the way of them. She knew better then to expect them to speak to her. And she knew better then to leave now that they were there; becuase of course; should they need anything at all it was her duty as their slave to get them what it was they desired.<br><br>And then oh gods... She'd looked down. When there came the call that there were new 'slaves' she looked and saw them. There was nothing wrong with looking at the new slaves brought into the house of course; she had seniority over all of the other slaves here. But the fact that she was in the way of her masters is what made her jump a little. <br><br>Today was not going to be a good one. She bowed her apologies (though she doubted any of them paid attention to that) and moved out of their way as she heard a call that new slaves had been brought it. She scooted around the edge; and out of their way; sticking towards the back of the balcony. To where it entered onto the stairs. But still with in ear shot; just standing there. Hoping no one was cross with her... or worse still; that she might be in someones way where she was right now... So she quickly took another step over. <br><br>She smiled to herself though; a small smile. They'd gotten another female slave, and she looked absolutely breath taking. It would be nice to have another girl in the house. Though she did hoped that the men of the house didn't try to take advantage of her... And the new slave. He looked like he should be a gladiator. He was certainly like one. <br><br>She wiped the smile from her face as she stood there; being silent. Hoping none of the gladiators would make fun of her tonight for how jumpy she'd been. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keith</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 15:05:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a322/Kyodaiki/james-purefoy-rome.jpg)</div>Not caring to look down on their Gladiators just at the moment he glanced back to his Sister upon her question. With a smile he raised and lowered his shoulders in a casual shrug. "Late enough that you had been asleep, I did not have the heart to wake you." Of course he also didn't much care to lend his ear to his Father when he would have rather rested and done such in the morning, when he could properly handle the man.<br><br>For the time it lasted he was simply pleased to share her warmth, the dim light and cold air comfortable with her. The hand on the low of his back touched cloth, for a brief moment he wondered how she would have reacted if she felt the hilt of a blade resting under it. Shaking the thought away he nodded to her bitter words, knowing that Onivus was somewhat bitter that her interests were looked on with scorn. He understood why they tried to keep her away, but he also understood why she looked. For some time he had stayed out of the strife, but he made a point to be silent when he found her watching.<br><br>Feeling the light jump he chuckled, knowing the voice that startled his sister. He turned, leaving a calming hand on his Sister's shoulder for a moment while he glanced to his Mother. Even waking early from bed she looked every part the noble woman. Separating himself from his sister with a warm squeeze on her shoulder, and a candid glance of warning, and walked to his Mother.<br><br>Deciding that he would not step into the trap laid by his Mother, unintentionally or not, he simply rested his hands on her shoulders and smiled. Leaning forward he kissed her cheek, pleased to have had her warm smile if only for a moment. Moments after his Father came up behind them soon after.<br><br>Cassius stepped back quietly and glanced to him. He had no smile for Marcus, instead he bowed his head slightly in respect. "Then I am most pleased, as I have not disappointed you Father." Travel was never much of a difficult to him.<br><br>His nose caught the smell of food in the air, his mind drifting to the culina. "If you'll excuse me," He said, without giving reason, and walked back toward the Culina. Letting them amuse he was hungry after his travel was easier then trying to convince them before his departure, and he didn't much care to stay watch the new slaves arrive.<br><br>Upon arrival in the Culina he stood in the doorway, the scents of food urging his stomach to growl in protest of his plan to bathe before he would eat. With a moments thought he sighed and pointed a finger toward the dark skinned girl, a young slave he did not remember the name of. "You, take a loaf and come with me." He would turn and step away, moving at a casual pace, not waiting for the slave.<br><br>The bottom of his robes swept lightly over the cool floor as he headed down into the caldarium, not caring to bother with the luke warm tepidarium as his chill had not receded. Behind him he heard the rushed steps of the Nubian girl as she caught up to him, just before he was about to walk down into the warm moist air. Without a word he walked down the steps, his stiff muscles urging him toward the water the waited for him bellow.<br><br>Moisture greeted him as the stairs leveled off, the sight of the tepidarium greeting him. He walked to the doorway into the warmer caldarium and paused. While he was no soilder, as his father was, he had the masculinity of a man fit to be one, with enough training to defend himself easily enough. Healthy tone over lean muscle, stretching and accentuating deeper as he dropped his clothes and the dagger that rested along it's belt dropping to the floor after a breif tug or two at the fabric.<br><br>Stepping into the caldarium further warmth washed over him, and he walked easily into it, only the faintest wince at the difference in tempreture as the water rose up over his hip. With a pleased sigh he walked to the edge and leaned his forearms on the side, and held his hand up. "The loaf," He ordered, his hunger now demanding to be sated. Once in his hand he would tear off a sizeable chunk and bite into it, the warmth it offered as satisifying as it's taste.<br><br>With a sigh of pleasure he waved his hand toward the girl. "Out of those rags and wash me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lady Reign</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 19:02:29</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font">The kiss to her cheek from her only son warmed Amarantha's heart greatly and it was received well. The lady of the home was able to give him that loving smile which Cassius had wanted to see from his mother. It gladdened her heart to see him doing so well. In answer to her daughter's reply, Amarantha placed a hand against her beloved son's cheek for a second and said, "The Gods have blessed me well with dreams and with a good morning dearest Ovinus. They treat our family well and bless not only me but my husband and children as well. Though, I must admit, waking up to a cold bed this morning can damped the spirit in a wife". The woman had made the comment to her husband who now appeared outside, almost completing the family aside from the one son that was not Amarantha's. A most charming smile had been given to Marcus, while the woman gazed so lovingly upon him. Only the Emperor's wife was more blessed than she by the Gods. <br><br>And then the call to the balcony was made, signalling the arrival of the first new slaves. Rising her chin high as did all those of noble stature, Amarantha stepped closer to the railing and peered over and down at the tanned, muscular gladiator-to-be. On the outside, the roman woman seemed nothing more than indifferent to the prospective slave, staring down at him with cold gray eyes. But on the inside—on the inside of Amarantha that vanity was stoked along with a twinge of lust for the fine body that man had. It made her cheeks flush and quickly she turned from the balcony railing. <br><br>"Well, he seems fit to be made into one of your gladiators, Marcus. Though I am sure he'll never be as great as Korbis... I've no interest for this any longer though, I shall go get dressed properly," Amarantha said before dismissing herself from her family's company and the slaves'. Once no one could see her, a deep frown settled on her lips and she rested a hand against her chest to still that beating heart. She would not let this conquer her. Amarantha loved her husband and that man was nothing more than a slave! The very idea was ... ridiculous. It would pass. The thought would pass, she told herself. <br><br>Running her hands down her chiton, Amarantha looked about for Melete. Where was that girl now and why was she not at her Domina's side to await her demands? <br><br><br><br></span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keala Mensha Khaine</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 19:57:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Like lambs to the slaughter," Volrath chuckled to himself as the new slaves entered. He only gave them a passing glance as he kept his focus on the opponent before him, leaning to his left as a quick overhand strike attempted to hit him square on his thick skull...something he had anticipated. Backing up, he avoided another slash at his abdomen, and then a quick jab. The jab he spun out of and towards his foe, letting his shield drop as he came about, wrapping his now free arm about the man's throat in a choke hold, holding him still as he dropped his training sword and pummeled the man's face with his fist until he heard a soft crack and saw the satisfactory spit of blood and teeth from his mouth. Dropping the unconscious man to the ground, he gave the new arrivals a better look. <br><br>Two of the new arrivals stuck out the most to Volrath...a Roman with the look of a soldier about him, and a wild female...one that Volrath knew in an instant would never be tamed as a slave. Such women were valued highly in his tribe, seen as Valkyries given human form. Doubtless the Romans had no respect for such qualities. "More Roman whore-son's brought to the grinder of flesh and bone I see... pity they could not travel to the North and find some true warriors," he said with a grunt passing a look to the Celt, one of the few with whom he had a grudging respect, what might pass as a friendship even with Volrath. Their cultures were still vastly different and strange to each other, but still much more similar than that of Rome. The fact that he was not a Roman and was a great warrior also went a long way to gain Volrath's favor. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Primarch</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 20:28:18</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: left;">(http://i232.photobucket.com/albums/ee48/Gevaden/barbarian_warrior-1.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">Ríoghan</span></div><br>The Celt hadn't given himself enough credit, even as his foe leapt back to his feet and pressed the assault in effort to make up for being shown up, Ríoghan had found himself parrying each blow. It was becoming second nature, how this house taught its gladiators to fight and perhaps all the training of his body, he was in no shortage of might as a warrior back home but it would be a fib indeed if he denied he had noticed the shape of his body improving. He felt mightier in his arms, weathering blows upon his shield for long periods of time was putting less strain on him every week. There was things he noticed now that he had not before, there was a time when in a fight such as this he'd have swung his weapon even a wooden one, and hoped to just whack the chest....but now he could tell how much weight his opponent put on his front leg as he thrusted. With more agility then he tended to use when fighting, Ríoghan side stepped the thrust before bringing up an arm and battered his opponent over the head with the bottom of his wooden <del>stick</del> sword. It was most amusing to watch him hit the floor again. <br><br>Mac Carthaigh like the rest noticed the arrival of others, one in particular caught his eye. The women. Not because she was a pretty lass, partly because she looked like a <em>lass</em> alright. She certainly wasn't local, she had the features of a woman who looked more like what he was used to seeing, details he never noticed before. Her skin, the shape of her face, it all pointed towards the misty lands he called home. Volrath had noticed her too, Ríoghan could tell. Volrath was someone the Celt could relate too, they came from similar stock. He certainly had more in common with him then all the others around, the Romans and Gauls, Thracians and Greek. When the Norseman spoke to the Celt, he turned to face him feeling safe in lowering his weapon. The sparring had paused. <br><br>"I could live with that, might mean more mead. I wouldn't give Roman <em>wine</em> to my pigs." he returned, not that he was gifted with wine very often. In fact he could count on one hand how many times he had been treated to alcohol since his arrival, it was the same number of times as their had been big victories for the house in the arena. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>09-10-2010, 22:49:13</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus ignored his wife's unsubtle dig at his habits. He highly doubted if he'd ever become accustomed to remaining in bed once he'd awoken. He moved to the balcony when Amarantha went to look, giving an interested 'mmm' at her comment on the man below. He supposed the call could answer his daughter's question as well, and the work of the household was before him.<br><br>"This is our Praetorian is it not?" he said, "he'll please the crowd as a secutor. Fitting, don't you think?" he asked directly to the slave below, "carry a sword and shield once more, and make a gladiator of yourself." Having assigned him a discipline, the trainers could take over. Marcus didn't always do so, but this time, it was imperative. Making him a secutor would put him in the place of being armed with those weapons he already knew as a praetorian, and that would make him dangerous in the arena. Marcus needed this one to survive, at least for a while.<br><br>He turned to Pan, the girl who served his daughter. He knew many of the slaves by name, but their status made using the names unecessary, unless he wanted one slave in particular.<br><br>"Wine, girl," he said, "and send someone for the chair from my cubiculum." The chair was a high-backed wooden seat, easy enough to sit and watch from. The orders given he faced Ovinus, to explain.<br><br>"I'll remain to watch the training today," he said, "if anyone calls, you can send them to see me."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 02:44:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Watching the Roman family upon their balcony, and her hands began to slowly work into tight fists, the knuckles whitening. Hearing that the first slaved called was a Roman caused her head to whip about, raven locks sweeping across eyes that now held a blue fire. Every muscle in her lucious fighting form tensed, the sun gleaming off sweaty and dusty flesh seeming to beg to be touched, whether by teeth or sword. Her breath came quicker, full globes rising and falling as she hissed through her teeth staring upon Antonius with what seemed like glee. Yet slowly she would lower her gaze again, the only sign of her agitation now being still the tenseness singing throughout her lithe frame. She must at least appear to be...obediant. The thought made a shudder run through her body, rose hued nipples tightening as she worked so hard to remain calm. She -must- get into the training yard...<br><br>As she continued to wait in line, waiting for the moment that the Master would pass down his judgement upon her, Luigsech allowed her hot gaze to roam again under thick lashed eyes now slightly hooded, her chin lowered just enough to seem perhaps meek. Falling upon all the weaponry, both wooden and steel. Aahhh to feel any of these within her palm! Fists opened and clenched at the simple thought. Training had stopped, and the line of slaves she was trussed up to was being observed by the other warriors as well as the trainers themselves.<br><br>A man with a whip upon his belt, obviously a trainer. Several more&nbsp; muscled men. Her shadowed gaze falling upon a man wearing colors, he must be the Champion. Catalog and weigh. Ears perked as another another slave was shoved forward, yet her eyes kept tearing about her surroundings. Working to rake slowly over a large one that looked Norse, and this brought a feathered brow to wing upward slightly. My, my.. what a large one. And then..<br><br>Piercing cerulean would fall upon a man that caused her quickened breath to stop. Time would freeze, if only for her. A fellow countryman, he must be. Had he been in the same predicament as she? Fighting for Boudicca and the freedom of the tribes, even though they were not in their homeland? Bah! A pretty picture that. With a derisive snort to herself, an almost contemptuous curl of lush lips, she would pull her gaze from Rioghan, and once again pay attention to her fate. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 02:56:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pan nodded her head in respect as the young master and mistress left the balcony, still keeping her mouth shut and her ears open for any orders. And when one did come; she immediately nodded her head and scurried out the exit and down the stairs towards the Culina. Nodding her head to Melete as she walked out of the opening with a large jug of milk in her arms. She made her way up to one of the cupboards; reaching up and over her head to pick out a cup. She wasn't as tall as Melete was so she was forced to pull a stool over to reach the cup for her master. Cursing herself for having only brought one cup when she should have known her other masters would be coming out onto the balcony as well. <br><br><em>Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.</em> She reprimanded herself internally; stepping down from the stool and padding through the home looking for one of the stronger male slaves that would be able to move the chair. Either on his own or with her help. <br><br>After a few minutes of searching the house, far longer then she would have liked before she stumbled upon Ludolf in the Atrium. <strong>"Ludolf."</strong> She called, straightening herself up to her full height; having never had any problem talking with her fellow slaves she cleared her throat to him. She saw the lashes on his back; even if they were more like welts now and she cringed a little; loosing some of her height as she cringed. She stepped in closer to him and smiled up at him as he stood. He was nice; but was often getting himself in trouble. But he was strong and that's what she needed in this moment. <strong>"Ludolf I need you to help me."</strong> She began taking hold of his arm and pulling him a little out of the Atrium and towards the Masters Cubiculum. <strong>"The Dominus wants his chair to watch the gladiators but I can't lift it on my own."</strong> <br><br>She didn't really give him a choice to say yes or no; she had seniority over him after all. And on top of that; it was the master that had requested something be done. and since Pan couldn't do it by herself; then it was her job to delegate it to someone else. Besides; he had such pretty blue eyes and it was always fun to try and sneak a look at them. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Falanor</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 06:42:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><em>Ludolf...Doing his chores in the Atrium...</em></span></div><br><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/cf/BryceNewborne02.jpg)</div><br>Pulling the last of the weeds free from the plants he dusted his hands off over the potted plants.&nbsp; Hearing his name called he quickly thought, <em>What did I do now?&nbsp; Wait...oh just that Paniz woman...</em>&nbsp; “What's that now?&nbsp; A chair?&nbsp; Doesn't he have enough of those?”&nbsp; Ludolf grumbled, “Yeah, lead on.&nbsp; I can lift it for you.”<br><br>Shrugging as she walked away he simply fell in step with her.&nbsp; He cocked his head to the side and watched the way the woman moved before him.&nbsp; Enjoying the way the her body moved under the cloth.&nbsp; “So what's so special about this chair than the others?” he had a mischievous grin on his face as he continued “Why don't we just take that one over there?”&nbsp; He said pointing to a small stool.<br><br>For the most part Ludolf seemed to enjoy poking at the orders of the Dominus and Domina as much as he could get away with.&nbsp; The worse job he did the less they might use him; and to his mind that was just as good as things could be in this life.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 09:04:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Paniz smiled as he followed after her; not paying attention to him looking at her. Why should she? She wasn't nearly as pretty as the rest of the girls in this home. And that wasn't just her being modest about herself. She knew the other women were prettier then her. She accepted it. <br><br>She looked over her shoulder at the stool and got a look of slight horror that he could even suggest that to a look of slight anger. She didn't have time to deal with his teasing. She turned and stopped looking up at him with her hands on her hips; smacking him in a slight playful manner. <strong>"You know better then that!"</strong> She teased him shaking her head. <strong>"But oh gods please don't do it Ludolf..." </strong>She asked him meekly.<strong> "Or I'll be the one to get in trouble."</strong> She was after all; the one that they'd asked specifically to go and get the chair. So she would be the one to be punished for their mistakes. <br><br>Despite the fact that she prayed Ludolf was only playing around with her; she knew he would have intentionally picked up that stool and brought it to them. She sighed and rolled her neck to try and crack it, wanting to relive the stress in her spine. <strong>"And besides..." </strong>She started as they walked to the hall and came to the masters Cubiculum. She stopped in the door way and looked up at him with sincere concern on her face. <strong>"If you get another lashing like yesterdays; you might get infected."</strong> A look of heart break crossing her face as she turned away from him to open the door. <strong>"And slaves don't live long as it is; you don't need anything else to take away from our already short life." </strong><br><br>Having been here nearly all her life... Pan had seen more than her fair share of slave deaths. Most of them were from illness. <br><br>But she soon pushed that from her mind as she walked into the masters room; and searched out for! oh there it was! She smiled and danced over to the chair; standing beside it cup in hand and smiled up at Ludolf playfully. <strong>"Here we are!"</strong> She chirped to him. Her brown eyes lighting up a little as she said it. She moved out of the way and waited for him to get it before moving out of the room and holding the door for him. <br><br>Quickly closing it she moved out after him and towards the balcony; walking behind him as he made his way up the stairs; making sure to put her arms out should he lean back too far to hold him. Once they were on the balcony she quickly moved around him and went to the table to pour him some of the wine from the jug and handed him the cup respectfully. <strong>"I'm sorry for the wait."</strong> She apologized. Though to be honest it had probably taken her 5-8 minutes to get everything done tops. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lady Reign</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 19:15:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font">Amarantha sunk lower into the bathing pool full of warmed milk. A long satisfied sigh escaped between her lips while the woman merely enjoyed the liquid that surrounded her skin. Melete had done well again though of course her Domina would not have even praised such good work. It was expected, not commended. However, for as long as the girl had been here, Amarantha was more soft towards that particular slave than others. <br><br>"Hecate, come here and was my back for me. I want every inch of my skin to be as soft as possible and I can hardly reach back there," the Roman woman demanded while pulling herself upright to expose well formed breasts unashamedly. The sudden change from the warm bath to cooler air caused the more sensitive flesh of Amarantha's nipples to harden. She placed an arm over herself to give more warmth to her body again while waiting for Melete to undress and enter the bath with her in order to tend to her Domina. <br><br>"What are you waiting for girl. Move along now before you find my hand across your cheek again," Amarantha said casually while using her free hand to study the ends of her blond tresses. That hair was all the envy of her lady friends, and Amarantha up-kept it quite well in order to maintain that jealousy. But then her thoughts strayed and the woman found herself staring off into nothingness while her eyes seemed to fixate on the rippling white bathing milk. <br><br><br></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Falanor</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 19:49:20</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font"><em>Ludolf...Behaving for the moment...</em></span></div><br><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/cf/BryceNewborne02.jpg)</div><br>Ludolf nodded to the girl and said, “Alright, I'll be good.&nbsp; Sorry.”&nbsp; He was sorry, he didn't want his nature hurting the others, as it was his problem and not hers.&nbsp; Had Ludolf been asked to do it himself he would have most likely returned with the stool <em>It is the Dominus' chair afterall...</em> he grinned mischievously at the thought.<br><br>Following the girl into the Cubiculum he shrugged at her worries of him receiving another lashing.&nbsp; He didn't know why he always so rebellious; he just was.&nbsp; Seeing the chair he groaned, “This thing?”&nbsp; The chair was a pain to move around as it's arms were larger than most of the doorways in the villa.&nbsp; He picked it up, the wood was heavier than it looked, and groaned as his back stretched its muscles to heft the weight.<br><br>With a great deal of groaning he was able to move the high-backed monstrosity along the hallways to where the Dominus waited.&nbsp; Hefting it one last time to the spot that would give the Dominus the best view of the training yard he placed the chair down on the floor.&nbsp; With a few heavy breaths he quickly turned and made his way away from the Dominus' sight as quickly as he could.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>10-10-2010, 20:22:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus sat back in his chair and took the cup. She caught his attention rather more immediately than even when he'd ordered her about, because she spoke. He rarely heard that and once he looked at her more closely he found that the slave who'd been tending to his daughter for years, was now like his daughter, a woman. He let his eyes drift over her figure for a long moment, before saying anything.<br><br>"Quick enough," he said, "and well mannered too." He extended his left hand, moving it to her leg, and letting it travel upwards on her thigh underneath her clothing, he held it there for a moment before removing it. Having a wife and family had not curbed the solider in Marcus, and the habits, and appetites remained. He supposed that his daughter could do without her slave for a little while, given the number he owned.<br><br>"Sit here, girl," he said, indicating the foot of his chair, "you can refill my cup, and in the meantime, tell me what you think of the fighters, I wouldn't trust one of the foreign slaves to tell me a showman from a lamb, but you're Roman born aren't you?" it was not a question, but a recollection, and of course, it was obvious she was not foreign. Asking a slave's opinion was not something Marcus often did, mostly because he wasn't interested, but the girl had interested him. He couldn't recall having taken interest in her since she was young, as a girl she'd been with his daughter, and therefore quite lightly treated for a slave, but as she grew older, she faded into the background. Marcus wondered why it had taken him so long to notice her appeal.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 00:33:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The clattering of wood striking wood was almost hypnotic.&nbsp; This was nothing like fighting in a shield line where you had other people to rely on while you drove your blade into abdomens, groins and thighs; all while trying to keep from slipping on the innards, blood, shit and corpses that littered the ground beneath your boots.&nbsp; He had not been taught how to fight.&nbsp; He had been taught how to survive in a real battle.&nbsp; It was not about pleasing a crowd or putting on some manner of fantastic display, seeking approval from people that cared nothing for you.&nbsp; It was about finishing an opponent and moving onto the next until there were no opponents left.&nbsp; The pleasure came afterwards in the form of daughters and wives of your opponents.&nbsp; Of gold and other precious bits that you could take from their homes.&nbsp; He was constantly being yelled at, understanding only a fraction of it but at least he was getting the hang of this current exercise.&nbsp; Swing the wooden sword and block your opponent’s wooden sword.<br><br><br><br><em> What remarkable glory.&nbsp; Thor laughs at me. </em><br><br><br><br>His mind wandered as it was wont to do at times when he wasn’t being pressed and the gladiator across from him took advantage of such.&nbsp; Suddenly he felt sharp blow against his wrist, his entire right arm going numb for a moment and he had to look down to make sure his numbed hand still held the wooden weapon.&nbsp; Losing his focus was the first mistake, and looking down was his second.&nbsp; His shorter but more savvy partner drew a step closer, swinging his shield up and catching the tall man under the chin with the thick wooden edge of the shield.<br><br><br><br>Lights flashed inside his head as he staggered backwards and landed hard on his arse in the dirt.&nbsp; He looked up at the man that had just embarrassed him and watched him as he smiled, laughed and said things he didn’t understand.&nbsp; He heard the title that he had been given however.&nbsp; <br><br><br><br>“...Dane...”<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; More laughter and from the tone, he knew that the man spoke ill of him.&nbsp; His forearm throbbed and his jaw ached and where he sat, he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, feeling that none of his teeth were cracked.&nbsp; He was angry.&nbsp; Before this, he had more gold than anyone save his warlord.&nbsp; Before this, he was the one standing over top of a defeated foe, running the man through before looking for a stupid Christian woman to mount and enslave.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; He was sore, but worse, he was embarrassed and he’d had had enough of such.&nbsp; With a low growl he swung his shield arm swiftly at the man’s legs as he stood over him.&nbsp; The man easily side-stepped the awkwardly thrown shield but that was the moment “Dane” needed.&nbsp; He was off his arse and springing forward quickly.&nbsp; He felt the wooden edge of the shield scrape the skin along the inside of his right arm and thud against his chest even as the pommel of the wooden sword cracked down hard against his left shoulder, just missing his head.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Your mother is a whore, and your father as well!” &nbsp;, he shouted in his own tongue as his body collided with his opponents.&nbsp; Dane’s weight, momentum and strength carried both of them back until they both fell over with Dane landing ontop.&nbsp; Light exploded in his head again as he felt a rough blow from the wooden sword striking him in the forehead but his hands were moving on rote.&nbsp; It mattered not that he was blind from the pain.&nbsp; The pain was temporary and he could feel the song inside his blood, and even as he raged visibly on the outside, everything felt as calm as a northern lake at sunrise inside.&nbsp; The shield was trapped between Dane and the man, effectively trapping his left arm and as they both struggled for a moment, Dane’s vision cleared and his right hand swung down like a hammer and connected hard with his opponent’s nose.&nbsp; He followed it up with a second blow to the man’s jaw and felt the man beneath him go limp.&nbsp; His large fist raised a third time and stopped as his vision cleared entirely and he saw that the man, although alive was not in a position to be hitting Dane anymore with that cursed wooden sword.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; With a snort of approval he pushed himself up off the man and stood overtop of him.&nbsp; Dane’s closely-cropped blonde hair was stained a reddish orange from the blood coming out of the cut he had received from the man’s wooden sword and he stopped to spit out a mouthful of blood onto the sand waiting for whatever was to happen next.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 00:41:10</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Melete<br><br>Melete was at her Mistresses side the moment she was in the room and she was done filling the bath with milk. Assisting her in taking off her chiton robe and making sure not to let her eyes wander. Even if Melete appreciated both genders; she was smart enough not to look at her superiors unless instructed to. She helped her into the tub; taking hold of her hand to support her into the milk should she struggle at all. She was always so envious of Amara's skin. She was a few years younger then Amara; yet she looked to be the elder of the two. It was a wonder what a little pampering could do for the skin. <br><br>Melete raised her eyebrow for a moment, had she just called her Hecate? Not that it really mattered of course~ Her beautiful mistress was asking her to take a bath with her and she'd be happy to comply! <strong>"Of course my Domina!"</strong> She almost felt like giving a bit of an evil chuckle. She moved away a bit; untying the small piece of fabric that wrapped around her waist; and slid her robes over he head and off of her body, reaching behind herself to untie the strip of fabric she used to wrap her breasts and keep them from sagging or moving about while she worked from her chest. <br><br>Melete quickly moved into the bath; since it would help to fight off the chill of nudity and becuase it seemed her mistress was getting cross with her for taking so long. She pulled the warm milk into her hands and quickly splashed some of it over Amara's back and shoulders to make sure that she didn't catch cold; before reaching over the large tub for the other bathing products; such as a small jug to help her pour the warm liquid over her mistresses body; and a sponge and soap. She dipped the soap into the milk and brought it back running it through her hands to lather it up a bit before rubbing it against the sponge. <br><br><strong>"How did you sleep last night Domina?"</strong> She purred to her; massaging her back gently as she worked the soap over her skin; bringing the jug into the milk and lifting it up to pour it over her body. She knew that if Amara even got the slightest hint of a chill; it would be her head on the chopping block and Melete would have preferred to avoid that. Plus~ it was nice to see the milk roll down the Domina's body. <br><br>She smiled at the image and squirmed a little adjusting herself accordingly. <strong>"A little birdy told me that one of the new persons that arrived today is a traitor~" </strong>Melete said in a nonchalant tone of voice. As if she wasn't just dying to dish; or be dished to. Deciding it would be best not to focus on how suddenly cold her upper body was; or how nice it might be to press into her mistresses back. She'd save those thoughts for one of the gladiators. <em>mmmm~ Korbis &gt;3</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lady Reign</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 01:23:44</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font">Melete's exclamation had shaken the thoughts from the Domina's mind and Amarantha blinked slowly while the image had faded. A pleased sound voiced low the back of the woman's throat as soon as Amarantha felt the slave pouring that warm liquid over her body. "Mm the God's bless my sleep, Melaena. As they always do. Though my husband leaves me cold in the mornings which displeases me. He is but a man though and I am merely a wife," she said softly while raising an arm so that her slave could attend to the skin there. <br><br><em>"A little birdy told me that one of the new persons that arrived today is a traitor~"</em><br><br>Amarantha quickly turned her head to look coldly at her slave. She had just been thinking about the man and of his form when escorted into the training yard this morning. It was as if Melete had been reading her thoughts and purposefully said that comment to irk her Domina. "We shall not speak of such things, Melete!" Amarantha's voice had been hushed but the threat behind them was all too apparent. Even the mention of that <em>slave</em> sent her fragile heart racing just ever so slightly but enough to where it brought a flush to Amarantha's cheek. "He is a traitor to Rome and serves as a slave now. He is nothing impressionable to this House, nor does he bring us glory. I doubt if he ever will. Marcus should have never brought him here," she quickly said before removing her gaze from Melete. <br></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keala Mensha Khaine</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 01:26:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"The Roman whore's wouldn't know a good mead if Thor himself pissed it down their throats!" Volrath said with a meaty roar of laughter to The Celt. "You are right about that pig swill they call wine...drink of the gods? By Odin's hairy balls it is not fit to wash the blood from my axe! It leaves my bowels in a state that the others here seem to find offensive indeed." he followed up with a grin. Licking his lips, Volrath took another moment to eye up and down the body of the newly arrived female again...<em>delicious indeed.</em> <br><br>His attention was drawn away from the new arrivals as he heard a roar of anger and the meaty thud of a fist against a man's face. Turning about, he caught the last blow landed upon the face, causing the recipient to fall in a tangle of limbs as a tall body stood up and shook his head. "Aye now there Dane! Now that is how a true beast from the North fights! We sons of&nbsp; Odin don't hit like no Roman women!" &nbsp;Looking away from the Dane, Volrath shot a glance to Korbis and gave him a sly grin. "Korbis...do leave some of the new whore for the rest of us..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 01:47:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Melete<br><br>Happy to hear she'd slept well; and smiling to herself when she said something about her husband not being there to warm her bed. Melete had happily taken hold of Amara's arm and was washing it gently in firm long strokes to get rid of any dead skin and leave her pink and refreshed looking. She knew how important it was the upper class of Rome's women to have a look that challenged even the beauty of the goddesses above. And her Domina certainly did that just that; both her and her daughter. She was certainly blessed to have been owned by such a lovely family. <br><br>Her back stiffened and straightened out when Amara reprimanded her like that. Lowering her head she nodded it asking for her apology. <strong>"Forgive me Domina."</strong> She asked in a low voice. Disappointed that she wouldn't be able to tell her the other things she'd heard. Since she'd been a slave all her life; she'd traveled to many different homes. And made long lasting friendships with many different slaves. There was not a home in Rome with influence and power that didn't have a slave in it that she knew. And, as often happened, there had been a few slaves serving when the poor new slave had been stripped of all of his dignity and given his new title. And as in most cases; no one had noticed the slaves who had witnessed everything that happened. <br><br>She would just have to spill her guts to Atra or Pan later; though she was certain Pan wouldn't want to hear it. Would probably make her nervous and put her on edge. As if it knowing any sort of gossip might send her to the lions. For now Melete focused on not smiling; like she knew something. If her Domina had told her not to talk about it; then she wouldn't. Those her eyes shined with a certain type of knowledge. <br><br>She listened to her Domina vent at her. And took the scolding like the good slave she was; all the while continuing to pour the milk over her skin and run the sponge of the areas presented to her. When Amara turned to look away from her she raised her gaze to her hair; lifting up a little to be kneeling on her knees to look down at her hair, just continuing to absentmindedly wash over her back. Trying to get rid of some of the stress she could feel in her muscles. <br><br><strong>"Let's talk of more important things!"</strong> She said after a moment in a cheery tone. <strong>"What shall I do with your hair today Domina?"</strong> She asked leaning over her shoulder a bit to try and speak to her more directly. Her eyes sparkling with the prospect. <strong>"I've got a bit of a wicked idea~ involving lots and lots of curls and flowers~ You'll be the envy of all of Rome!"</strong> She told her in a certain voice; backing away a hit to continue washing at her, a smile on her face as she added on the customary compliment. <strong>"Not that you aren't already of course."</strong><br><br>It was true of course. The gods had blessed Amara with a prosperous life and everyone knew it. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 02:17:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=85021.msg3756024#msg3756024">Quote from: Keala Mensha Khaine on 11-10-2010, 01:26:25</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> "Aye now there Dane! Now that is how a true beast from the North fights! We sons of&nbsp; Odin don't hit like no Roman women!" &nbsp;Looking away from the Dane, Volrath shot a glance to Korbis and gave him a sly grin. "Korbis...do leave some of the new whore for the rest of us..."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>He knew that the one called Volrath was of similar descent as himself but up until now, neither of them had said two words to one another.&nbsp; Which was not particularly unusual.&nbsp; Let each man find his own way. Let each man prove his worth and then offer guidance.&nbsp; Wisdom is precious.&nbsp; Do not waste it on the unworthy.&nbsp; Perhaps Volrath was waiting for him to prove his worth?&nbsp; Perhaps he was simply putting too much thought into it and Volrath was simply glad to see one of his own beat upon another.<br><br>He gave Volrath a wry smile and lifted a fist in the air in silent acknowledgement before busying himself with seeking out a cloth so that he could press it to the wound atop his skull.&nbsp; His hair having normally been long would do an adequate job of causing the blood to thicken and stop flowing.&nbsp; Upon being captured, all of his hair had been cut short and now, all he could do was wait for the blood to thicken and stop of it's own accord.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keith</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 03:56:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lucious waited in silence, expecting the arrival of the slaves to be soon. The Gladiators he looked over were frustrating him somewhat, too many mistook their tongues a viable weapon. Such warriors displeased him, every bit of energy they wasted flapping their tongues like they were pleasuring some cunt was pathetic to his senses. They were slaves that would buy their freedoms one at a time through blood alone, and they failed to realize that their energy would be better spent preparing themselvs to spill blood.<br><br>Which is why they were slaves, and not Soilders.<br><br>With an exasperated sigh he turned at the distant sound of the slaves, and waited for them to be lined up before he would present himself. A few of them caught his eye, potential. There was no surprise in him that one of the few he saw potential in was a woman. It was somewhat rare, but if she was given the chance she could spill blood. Briefly he glanced up at the balcony, curious if her master realized this or if he would mistakenly take the woman into his house and expose his family to her.<br><br>Shaking his head slightly he moved himself in front of the slaves, his attire typical for a warrior, save for the breastplate that was very much above any of the gladiators. "There are three things you need to know." His voice, clear and strong, barely needed to be raised to reach all of them. "Firstly, you are all at the mercy of this house, forget this at your own peril." He took only a brief pause to catch their reaction, and briskly moved on.<br><br>"Second, forget who you were, it will only weigh you down." He turned his eyes slowly to those he knew to be future Gladiators then, expecting that the next part would be the most important. Lucious pulled his spartha from it's sheathe, and held it vertically over the middle of his face. "Third, those of you that will touch a weapon need to keep only one thing in mind. Blood. It is now your every reason for existance. Why do you beathe, eat, sleep, move, train? Blood. Remember this, or you will be preyed upon by those who don't have your weakness."<br><br>Lucious swiped the blide out to the side, a perfectly angled cut through little more then air, and then slammed it to the hilt in his scabard. Without so much as a facial twitch he turned and looked up the master of the house.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 07:11:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She was trying so hard to remain calm, when all around her all she smelled was blood, and sweat, and the scent of fighting men. Made her blood sing it did! Made her body quiver, her nostrils flare. Luigsech let go a shaky breath, rolling her strong shoulders slightly, glancing again upon the balcony before holding her breath as she heard words spoken. <br><br>Words that were most assuredly directed at her. Her jaw would clench, the skin shifting as she ground her teeth, fire blue eyes staring now upon Volrath. Slowly, oh so slowly fingers reaching for the chain that was attached to the shackles of her wrist. “ Whore...” it echoed through her brain, careened through every muscle within her, a few more links gathered, a simple twist of the wrist to wrap those links around. “&nbsp; Leave some of the whore..whore...whore...” it was all she was hearing, even as Lucious began to recite expectations. Yet as the house trainer came into view the words receded and it all became white noise. Her stare now settled upon Lucious, and his lips moved, yet no words came out. A quick look to both sides of her, seeing the training staves along a wall. Yesss...<br><br>It would take but a few split moments, what she does. Her head would cant slightly to the left, looking first to the trainer, her lips tightening, as well as the arm and hand wrapped in chain. Then her attention would focus all on Volrath, before she would simply explode into action. With a shriek born from battle it would begin, and what followed would surely mean her demise. But she didn't care. None spoke of her in such a manner. Her hand would flip one more time to tighten the chain even as she gave such a harsh yank it pulled the slave next to her right off his feet. Surprise and strength worked with her as she ran scuttled backwards the few feet she needed to get to a training stave, snatch it up, whirl around in a show of raven locks and supple flesh, and hurl the stave towards Volrath with deadly accuracy. <br><br>She watched the missile, hoping it hit its mark. If it missed, no matter. She'd made a point. If she was killed for this action, no matter. She would no longer have to be surrounded by fools and Romans!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 10:48:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Paniz quickly regretted having spoken at all the moment he looked at her; really looked at her. She couldn't even lie and say she had to go and run to his daughters side; she was right here. She closed her eyes and felt as if she might die when he touched her leg. She didn't want to whimper so instead she focused on the blush she could feel rising to her cheeks. Her whole body stiffened under his touch; though from the blush on her face it could have been for a number of reasons. She prayed to the gods he thought she was flinching because she was embarrassed. <strong>"Thank you Dominus."</strong> Pan managed to get out with out it sounding strained; forced, or stuttered. She was certain that Melete would have been proud of her. <br><br>When he gave her a command she did it; taking hold of the jug of wine and moving to sit at his feet; tucking her legs up and under her body and twisting to sit a bit more comfortably. <strong>"Yes Dominus."</strong> She said meekly; not lifting her eyes to look up at him. She didn't specify what she was supposed to be saying yes to. Whether it be a simple 'Yes I will tell what I think.' or 'yes I am Roman.' Though in her mind she was answering yes to being Roman. She didn't know what to think of his fighters. She knew what some of the other slaves thought. They were musclebound and stupid. She knew what her young mistress thought of them... though that brought an even deeper blush to her face. She knew what Melete thought; that you should always say good things about Korbis... And well. Maybe she did know what she thought of his fighters. Or one of his dead fighters anyways. Ass hole.<br><br><strong>"Though it is not my place to tell you about something I have no business in..."</strong> She started hoping that statement wouldn't make him upset; or that it would make him forgive her for having to take a time to think of her answer.<strong> "It's a known fact among the slaves of all of Rome, that even the emperor himself is envious of your house champion."</strong> Well... It could have been true. Too bad Pan had no idea if it was or not. <br><br>She would have tried to say more things to him about the gladiators that she's heard other slaves spout off, but female shrieking tends to distract you. She jumped in her seat and thank the gods she didn't spill any of the wine. Pan was now trembling though and gripping at the jug. <br><br>It wasn't the thought of pain and blood that made her tremble. Blood and pain didn't bother her like it once had. Since she tried to always be there when a slave was punished the moment they were brought back to their quarters. With clean water and a rag to try and prevent infection.&nbsp; She was just a jumpy one when it came to the screams of women. No matter what the reason. <br><strong><br>"I'm sorry."</strong> She muttered. Closing her eyes and trying to calm her heart; she hoped her mistress would find a reason for the two of them to leave, and soon. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 20:49:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus watched the gladiators with detached amusement, though he sat slightly forward when he saw the new female he had to give a smile, though she wouldn't likely see it. He finished his cup and handed it down to the girl at his feet. She was interesting, his daughter's slave, but more interesting was the woman who'd given what sounded like a battle-cry.<br><br>"Lucious!" he called, "shackle that woman...and check that she isn't in possession of a man's organs!"<br><br>It was really only Pan's luck that the woman had cried out, because Pan hadn't told him anything at all beyond simple platitudes. He'd have scolded it, and it was nearly on his tongue when the cry rang out. Of course, having a woman attack the other gladiators out of turn wouldn't do, but he had to admire that spirit. He'd known Germanic women like that before, and recalled very, atheletic, love-making when he took them to his tent on campaign. Of course, this one was a slave, not the spoils of war, so there had been no battle to work up his passions, but that didn't mean she wasn't worth bedding, not in a bed, though, she was clearly not going to be tamed for quite some time.<br><br>"Speak quickly and plainly girl," he said, "what do you think of her? Does she frighten you?" Even if the girl was a slave, she still had the mind of a female, and women as gladiators were good for two purposes, frightening women into the arms of their men, and arousing the men. He could make a good deal of profit from putting on an exhibition fight with another school, with another woman like the slave below.<br><br>It seemed that his newest slaves were of some quality indeed. Plans were needed for such slaves, but with good plans, he could increase the power, the wealth, of his house considerably. He wondered briefly if the new woman would kill someone who she was given to for a night. An interesting thing to know if he could learn it, because he knew some men who might benefit him by their early deaths, at the hands of a crazed slave-girl perhaps.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keith</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 22:02:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lucious had barely finished his little greeting speech before trouble came about. He over them, and found the one that looked up to trouble. It was simple enough to see, her lips tightened as though she were about to snarl, and his eyes trailed down her arm as it tensed. Decades of battle made it obvious to see what she was about to do, but there was no weapons of any real danger within reach, and so he was in no real hurry as he walked forward with his hand moving down to the whip.<br><br>A loud shriek boomed out from the fierce woman, her supple flesh nearly enough to dissuade even the old General from thinking she wasn't capable of what she attempted. His hand came up from his hip, the firm leather grip held tightly, the stave picked up as though she intended to hurl it. Not about to allow her to harm his employer he intervened. With a compat motion, along with a strong flick of his wrist the whip snapped out, two feet of leather cracked loudly through the air, enough to make anyone in the courtyard flinch as it raced toward it's target.<br><br>The whip wrapped around her forearm four times in the blink of an eye, the very end snapping back on itself rather then biting into her skin, but the impact would be fairly jarring. Before it could unwrap itself he pulled back hard with one hand on the handle, and the other on the the whip a foot away from his body, the force enough to yank her around like a top. All this without breaking stride, which would brought him up to her.<br><br>Intending to take his orders seriously he reached out with his left hand, grabbing a fist full of raven hair. Pulling her neck back so she would be focused on her balance he wrapped his right arm around her, grasping her hip firmly as his forearm pressed into her. With a jerk of his head he summoned forward two guards that heard their commands, to shackle her. The younger of the two grabbed her by the wrists and jerked her arms straight out by stepping back, the second locked the shackles to them.<br><br>No longer needing to hold her in that way he moved to the letter of his command, his right hand moving from her hip. His rough palm rubbed down her pelvis and between her legs, reaching deep between them, cupping her pussy entirely. After giving her a few rough rubs, the heel of his palm grinding into the little nub of her clitoris. Of course he doubted Marcus had in mind that he actually molest the slave, but warrior women had a certain appeal, he wanted to hear her squeal in surprise or pleasure.<br><br>"You have forgotten my third warning so quickly. Blood, it is your existence, rule it or it will rule you." He spoke harshly into her ear, his voice filled with disgust at her weakness. Not that she couldn't stop him, not even that she couldn't kill whoever it was that she intended to stave for. But that she didn't push down her desires, and focus on her quest for blood, which would ultimately earn her the thing she desired.<br><br>In any case it didn't last long, four of five firm grindings of his palm up and down over her and he removed his hand from between her legs. Lucious grunted as he walked away, not watching as the slave would be pushed back into line. He would keep an eye on her, she had potential if she could learn to harness her bloodlust.<br><br>"It is a woman, Marcus." He shouted up at the balcony without any hint of what he felt, showing no signs that he did or did not enjoy his task, merely stating a fact.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angzyn</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 22:22:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She watched as her mother and brother walked away. Leaving her alone with her father besides for Pan that is. Yet soon she too was gone, ordered away by her father to get his chair. It was clear by the look on her face she was still not pleased with her father or the choice he had made about her future. Walking away from him with out a work and leaning over the side of the balcony to watch the new slaves enter. One of the males catching her eye right away, as did the new woman. Those bright eyes looking over each of her father's gladiators. Seeming to loose herself in some kind of dream world.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>It was not until she heard the sound of movement up the stairs did she look back. Watching as Pan moved with the wine and the slave she recalled as Ludolf moved in with her father's chair. Knowing him as a trouble maker and yet offered him a smile. More so because of his looks rather then his behavior as of late. But her peace was soon broken. First by watching her father run his hand up her personal slave then by the hell that seemed to brake loose down in the yard below. It seemed the bitch her father had bought was going to be a hand full. <br><br>"You sure know how to pick them father."<br><br>(Sorry is short but at home with the family)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dark Deception</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 09:31:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: palatino linotype;" class="bbc_font">The Lion was curled up in his cage. His right eye and cheekbone were black and blue, swollen shut from having taken a blow from the pommel of a gladius and beneath the sack cloth, the Praetorian Guard had dressed him in, there was more damage done. His golden skin was splotched dark on his stomach and back with light bruises. How did he receive those injuries? It had happened not too long ago…<br><br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Cadmus Leomedes?” the praetor questioned.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Lion rose, having set a bucket of feed down for the throng of goats that butted aggressively at each other for the first bite. He faced the four guards with indifference; a thin piece of straw was rolling along his teeth as he silently regarded these men that knew him by name. It was a shame that they didn’t recognize him. Actually, he was astounded that they couldn’t.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cadmus stood before them in cloth and leather-strapped sandals that wrapped his lean calves. A light, cotton tunic gave room to rippling, bronze muscles sculpted like delicate marble and from the days he spent carrying bails and testing the capabilities of his irons. His dark, maple hair fell in slim, shoulder-length tendrils about his neck. A piece of woven thread kept the mess from tumbling in way of his sights as he squinted through the bright light of the peaking sun.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The praetors regarded the quiet man uneasily before one of them unraveled a scroll and recited, “Cadmus Leomedes is hereby under arrest by the nation-state of Rome for the deflowering of the beloved of Thracian prince Zalmodegikos. Because of his beloved Accalia, you are not to be put to death, but to be enslaved. You can thank her for pleading to the prince to spare you.”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cadmus spat the straw from his lips and rested his hands on his hips as his brows rose inquisitively. “Interesting. This Cadmus must be a bold man.”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The praetors scowled suspiciously. “Are you not Leomedes? Lying and harboring the criminal will have you arrested too.”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Do you have a description of this Cadmus, and on what conditions were he spared?”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The praetor peered at the scroll and read, “Tall, ugly, dark hair, a goat herder and blacksmith; he was spared charges for death after Accalia had said she had pitied him for his loins had been so short that the night had been rather cold.” They roared with laughter at the explanation and stared at the stranger that stood before him, curious to what he had thought of the statement.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cadmus arched a slow brow and tilted his head to the side unsure whether to feel insulted or thankful. That wasn’t how he had remembered it, but the woman was clever though sharp with her tongue. He planned to humor the guards at least. “Based on said evidence, I suppose I’m your man, but a lion is not caught so easily.”<br><br><br>So, the story had went that he had ran and gave the Romans quite the marathon before they caught him, beat him, stripped him down, and…well, the joke was no longer amusing. Thus, The Lion was lying broken in the cart. There was a smile triumph on his lips as he relished having outwitted the Romans. He was awakened by a harsh prodding at his leg from the butt of a pole arm, and then dragged across the splintered bed as the other slaves had already stepped from the wagon.<br><br>With a soft groan, Cadmus sat up as his arms were taken into the violent hands of the praetors. He was then roughly shoved into the chain gang. He had learned throughout his journey that a certain family of lanistae was to own him for as long as he survived the gladiator matches. With his wrists and ankles shackled, and with the constant enraged jabbing from his armored friends, he wouldn’t be surprised if he lasted an hour in line.<br><br>It hadn’t been long before they were within the training yards of the House of Caelius. Silently, through the twisted layers of his mane, he watched the gladiators that growled, barked, and fought with other gladiators that seemed inexperienced compared to their might. His oaken oculars studied the movements of each man. It was unintentional of him to do so for it had came naturally with his mannerisms. Lucious’s announcement, his scrutiny was interrupted as he watched the dramatic introduction of his trainer. As serious as being a gladiator sounded, for some odd reason not even Cadmus understood why, he couldn’t take it seriously. He was that fool-confident that he would do absolutely fine for there were other things that could kill him before any <em>game</em> could, and that was women. Such was why he wound up a gladiator in the first place.<br><br>The Lion’s eyes were lured to a woman that was amongst the links. She was as wild as any woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her desire to murder seemed to out weight her desire to be free as she had attempted to do so with a nefarious scream. The trainer was prompt to subdue her like an animal—like a woman. Seeing the flick of his whip sent chills up his back as though it had been a serpent instead. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been whipped before, but that was another story. Cadmus was unaware of the stories of why these men and women were here, but he did know his own, and his had been quite a pleasure.</span></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lady Reign</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 17:56:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font"> <strong>Amarantha with Melete...</strong><br></span><hr><hr><br><span style="font-family: calibri;" class="bbc_font">"Do as you please with the styling of my hair, Helete—Melete, whatever it is that you go by this day," Amarantha said carelessly while rising from the bath. Milk slid down her body in a smooth glide while goosebumps rose up on the woman's skin. Shooing the slave out of her way, Amarantha stood upon the stone floor, wetness dripping from her form while holding out her arms so that Melete would come to dry off her well cared for body. "And do not let my daughter here you calling me the envy of all Rome. I have a feeling she would attempt to undermine that fact with some sort of manipulation and scheming behind my back. Treacherous child, that. Marcus should send her away from here so that she can get away from those damned gladiators. Child has no mind about her. I cannot help but to think I wasted all my beauty on that girl and if I have another she would not have an ounce of it," Amarantha ranted quietly and mostly to herself, though of course she was still fully aware that Melete was present.<br><br>"Though, there is a part of me that cannot blame her. Those gladiators... they are rather beastly, aren't they," the Roman woman questioned rhetorically. Of course they were. They were beastly, and animalistic, and wild. Something to be tamed beneath the crack of a whip and the hot Roman sun. The thought send a shiver beneath Amarantha's skin and for the woman to breath a little more unevenly. Amarantha squeezed her knees together a little more tightly while the familiar rise of rose blush came upon her cheeks. Such thoughts... such thoughts were not supposed to be had by a lady of her stature. But Amarantha could not help what pleased her mind, and the fantasies that played through it. <br></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keala Mensha Khaine</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 19:05:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Volrath pitched forward a few feet as a sharp pain hit him squarely in the back, a gasp emitting from his lips at the suddenness of it. He whirled around with a growl of fury, half expecting to see the Roman he was sparring with back on his feet and striking him from behind like a coward, only to see him still laying in a heap at his feet breathing heavily with a pool of blood issuing from his mouth. The famed berserker fury of the North Men that was threatening to overwhelm him was halted quickly by his moment of confusion and he looked about at the other gladiators, some still sparring, others all turning their attention to the new slave woman, whose arm was quickly wrapped in Lucious's whip before she was expertly subdued and then quickly shackled. <br><br><em>THAT WHORE!</em> his mind roared the instant realization dawned on him...soon followed by a mighty chuckle from his barrel chest. "Indeed! She does have some fight in her...I was wrong to think her a whore! Such fire in a woman would surely make her the wife of the Chieftan in my tribe! I like her already...if she lives that is," he said after his fit of laughter had subsided, mostly to himself, but partially to The Celt as well. <br><br>Intently, Volrath watched as Lucious followed his orders and slid his hand between the woman's legs, taking longer then one would need to decide, and turned about to proclaim his judgement to Marcus. Oh...she was woman alright...a <em>real woman.</em> Not some weak willed Roman slut. The kind of woman that you could drink a flagon of ale with, fight with, and bed all in one night. The kind of woman that made you earn her and her respect. Volrath's kind of woman. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 20:39:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luigsech's murderous gaze was locked upon the trajectory of the stave, knowing it would hit its mark. Victory! Yet her delight was short-lived as the trainers whip wrapped around her wrist, and she was yanked back. Spitting and snarling like a lion captured, she felt herself pulled down, teeth gnashing, and even as she was pulled , subdued easily by her hair, she was laughing. The sound would peal about the training yard, even as her battle cry had, its timbre one would think perhaps would be filled with madness. Ah but no. Simple mirth and delight. Her wrists were shackled once again, and she was still kicking, still fighting, until everything stopped.<br><br>Her breath had been coming harsh, lush breasts rising and falling quickly, but now she held her breath. Those eyes once electric blue now shifting to storm gray as Lucious' hand moved over her body. It's sent a confusing set of sensations through her, for though she had heard the command of the Master, it seemed the trianer was taking his time. A breath would hiss in, forcing herself to not move against the hand that traveled upon slightly wet lips. She was caught up, tied up, and subdued in a most delightful position, but these were different circumstances, and she refused to be this sort of spectacle. <br><br>And as her body relaxed the slightest bit in Lucious' strong grasp, silken lashed lids would close, and his words would sweep over her senses. The first sentence would be heard in his low graveled timbre, but the last would shift into the soft yet strong notes of her Queen. Would he feel the slightest of shudders that smoothed through her body? Opening her eyes, she would lock her gaze upon Lucious' for a split second as he finished his examination, and as she was yanked up to be shoved back into line, she would give a barely perceptive nod of her head. He was right of course. <br><br>Tossing her head to remove sweaty locks clinging to dirty cheekbones, she would dare ease her stormy gaze back to Volrath, and she would smile. It would be a smile full of teeth, a smile full of eager bloody promises. And then slowly she would lower her head slightly once again, shoulders back, holding the stance once again of the proud obedient slave she was supposed to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Poisin</strong> on <strong>13-10-2010, 00:51:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Paniz<br><br>Pan was very ready to tell him no that she didn't scare her; the thought of her having been hurt or worse out there scared her; that she might have tried to pull away from the line and was now being punished in brutal fashion scared her. But then when she started laughing a shiver went down her spine and Pan quickly nodded her head. "Yes Dominus! She terrifies me." She said in a weak sort of a tone, making sure to&nbsp; look up at him when she said it. Before quickly averting her eyes. She wondered what sort of trouble a girl like that would bring the other female slaves. And she secretly hoped and wished that she would be thrown back out. Pan didn't want to have to deal with gladiators sneaking into their quarters to teach her a lesson. <br><br>Unmoving from her spot she trembled a little, the jug shaking as she held it against her frame. She looked up at her young mistress, mentally begging her at this point to leave and take her with her. She would have much rather been starting the preparations for lunch of something else entirely. Maybe even going out to the fields to help in the vineyard. Anything to get away from this situation, of having to watch the new slaves paraded in. Of them being broken in and assigned a position. It always reminded her of the first day that she'd been taken away as a child. And she hated that memory. <br><br>She closed her eyes and continued to try and calm herself down. Feeling a blush cross over her face. Because she KNEW she shouldn't be acting this way or getting this worked up over something. She felt slightly slightly shameful as a result. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lanista's Daughter (Chapter One: Introductions)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>14-10-2010, 16:15:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He had heard the shout and turned to find the source when he saw the well built woman hurl a spear in furious rage.&nbsp; He tensed for a single heartbeat and pivoted on the ball of one foot, turning to the side instinctively in hopes to provide a small target for the swiftly sailing spear.&nbsp; It was during the second heartbeat where he realized the spear was not moving in his direction but instead towards the other northman that had spoken to him only moments before.<br><br>He was too far from everything to do anything that mattered so all he could do was simply watch the entire event unfold.&nbsp; When the commotion had died down he approached Volrath even as his gaze lingered on the attention that was being given to the restrained woman that had thrown the spear.&nbsp; She certainly had a pleasant enough appearance and certainly had some fire.&nbsp; It was the kindof fire that would have gotten her passed around every member of the raiding party.&nbsp; After being used by thirty sweating men over the course of a few hours, only the hardiest of women would still have that fire.&nbsp; He doubted such a thing would occur here as these romans seemed more concerned about rules and formalities than simply doing what must be done and taking what deserves to be taken.<br><br>He stood alongside Volrath, still watching Lucious with the woman on the ground, even as he spoke to the fellow Northman in their native tongue.&nbsp; &nbsp;“You are well?&nbsp; Seems you have earned the ire of that one.” &nbsp; Speaking in a tone that suggested he was amused by the entire event.<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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