Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 & Letrie)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: ryanmcallister80 on 20-07-2012, 13:58:35</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>20-07-2012, 13:58:35</strong>
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				<div align="center"><em>Present day Rome...</em></div><br>(http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRS2FzMYKmsHUgZX4nFLZ56SxSptyTiFBIL4dJi0QGkOUSGLjnbklkpihs)<br><br>The roar of the crowd was near deafening, loud enough to drown out the pitiful moans of the beaten and bloodied man lying at his feet. Well, maybe man was an exaggeration. His opponent had been far younger than he, an adolescent at best, no real test of his skills. But today that wasn't the point. Today was about giving the crowd the blood of criminals, the thieves and murderers and other assorted scum of the Empire. The arena was their chance to win a pardon for their crimes - survive against the trained gladiators and they would win their freedom. The fights appeased the masses, giving them the feeling of seeing justice done, when in reality it was a cheap and effective way of disposing of the undesirables of Roman society. The gladiators would fight, the crowd would cheer and the Senate would look good in the eyes of the common folk. Everyone wins - besides the dead of course. <br><br>Standing over the dying young man clad in the armour of a secutor, the victorious gladiator looked up to the ornate pavilion at the edge of the arena. The local governor and his esteemed guests sat in luxury as they watched the slaughter, deciding on a whim if the latest unfortunate should be spared or put to the sword. He could see Governor Tireus, a large bellied, balding man, sweating heavily even with his two young man servants fanning him with large palm leaves. His wobbling pale cheeks were flushed red with the exertion of having to sit up in his divan so large was his girth. His white toga was stained with wine and food as he surveyed the arena with hooded watery eyes. The man was probably not much older than him but a life of pampered luxury had taken its toll already, so decadent Tireus' tastes in fine food and drink. Other gladiators still fought in the arena but he had already dealt with his opponent with contemptuous ease. The governor took a passing interest in the ongoing fights before turning his attention to him, smiling benignly down on his prized gladiator. His arm outstretched he listened to the chanting of the crowd baying for the criminal's blood before sticking out a fat thumb and pointing it down toward the ground. The crowd erupted once more, cheering their governor's decision. He nodded curtly, inwardly cursing the man to all the nine hells before thrusting his sword through the heart of the poor young fool at his feet. <br><br>He watched the blood pooling on the arena floor around the corpse before turning and stalking across the sand, feeling its warmth under his bare feet as he made his way back to the metal framed gate that led out of the arena's ring and into the cool, shadowy interior of the arena itself and the relative quiet of the underbelly of the monster that had consumed his life. He was afforded a moment of quiet introspection while being rubbed down with soothing oils, before his guards came to take him back to his quarters.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br><div align="center"><em>Ten years previous, southern province of Brittania...</em></div><br>The sun was just creeping over the horizon as they came. A dozen riders and twice as many on foot, the gold eagle standard at the front of the column of horsemen, their silver edged shields and armour gleaming in the first rays of morning sunlight.<br><br>A shout went up as the riders swept into the village, spears levelled at the few people up and about at that early hour. The men of the village emerged from their huts bleary eyed and half asleep only to be cut down by the keen edges of the Roman Legionnaires blades. Cries of pain and despair rang out around the village as the women saw their menfolk butchered by the unstoppable Roman soldiers, the villagers primitive weapons no match for the shields and armour of the Legions of Rome. <br><br>The leader of the Imperial detachment called a halt to the slaughter with the sounding of a baleful horn. Bringing his horse to bear on a group of women cowering in the shadow of one of the wicker huts he shouted. "Bring me the one called Aldred! He is here by charged with murder and wizardry most foul against the mighty Roman Empire. Bring him to me now and the rest of your folk will be spared."<br><br>A silence stretched out for long moments before a young, dark haired woman was pushed out of the group by the hut. One of them spat on the ground by her feet before proclaiming "That is his witch of a wife, Aldred is not here, only she and their spawn. Their hut is over yonder." The woman pointed to a small hut on the edge of the village much to the dismay of the lone woman sprawling on the ground at the feet of the Centurion's steed. She began pleading with the man as he sent a handful of foot soldiers to the hut, begging him to spare her only son. He silenced her with a kick, sending her tumbling back onto the muddy ground of the village. He turned as sounds of anger and surprise reached his ears, turning in time to see a young man being wrestled to the ground by no fewer than four of his Legionnaires, another of their number lying prone on the ground by the door of the hut. <br><br>The Centurion guided his horse over to the young man as he was finally hauled to his knees, restrained by two of the soldiers, their faces bloodied by his frantic efforts to escape. He appeared to be in his late teens, but his face was obscured by his long shaggy black hair and a full beard. Even brought to his knees it was obvious he was a tall, broad and undeniably powerful young man. "You, boy, what is your name?" His reply was a cry of rage as the man once again attempted to escape his captors. He received a kick to his stomach that left him doubled over and winded, noisily sucking in great gasps of air. <br><br>"Faelan. He is the one you seek, Aldred's son." Came the reply from one of the women still crowded together behind the Centurion. He turned and gave them a scathing look. "You will address me only when spoken to savage witches, you will do well to remember your place here." Turning back to the young man he spoke quietly and slowly, his blue eyes sparkling with glee. "Very well, Faelan. Since your murdering father cannot be called to account for his crimes you will take his place." He sighed in exasperation as the boy's mother screamed and her begging began anew. "SILENCE! Since you will not give me the perpetrator of the crimes committed against my garrison and the Emperor of the most mighty civilisation the world has ever known, your son shall bear the price of those crimes... He will be taken to the arena where he will fight for his life. If he survives he will spend the rest of his miserable existence fighting for the pleasure of his Roman masters. Otherwise he will die like the savage he is."<br><br>He turned to his soldiers, smiling broadly. "Take him and his whore of a mother back to the garrison." Watching the young man and his mother as they were bound hand and foot before being carried off he then turned to the remaining villagers. "As for you, for giving up your fellows to us. Your treachery shall not go unrewarded. Kill them all." He said coldly to his soldiers, before riding slowly out of the village, oblivious to their cries for mercy. <br><br><div align="center">Present day Rome...</div><br>Faelan lay back on his rough straw mattress in the tiny cell he had occupied in the decade since the Roman's had come to his village and stolen his freedom. He had vowed that day the man responsible would pay. Soon, he thought to himself. Soon that day would come... 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>21-07-2012, 00:33:44</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i821.photobucket.com/albums/zz139/Lhyy/letrie/silva.png)</div>The bloodthirsty cries rocked the arena as the gathering audience shouted themselves hoarse demanding blood to be spilled.&nbsp; The citizens had worked themselves up in a frenzy watching the slaughter take place yelling out the name of their favorite and seeing the blood of criminals spill as they fought without a hope against the gladiators.&nbsp; This was their court of justice but no one was fool enough to believe it was fair.&nbsp; What chance did these liars and thieves have against trained warriors who had been drilled into executors?&nbsp; <br><br>“I don’t like this.”&nbsp; A young girl with her hair tied back in a braid whimpered as she quickly raised her hand over her eyes as if to keep out the horrific images before them.&nbsp; The woman beside her gave a slight shrug before focusing her attention on the arena once more watching young men writhe out in pain as their bones broke.&nbsp; “Don’t be foolish, Melita.&nbsp; You’ve grown into a woman so stop acting like a child.&nbsp; Besides, we are the Governor’s guests.”&nbsp; A gruff voice called from behind the two girls as the one with the braid turned to look towards the man mumbling an apology.&nbsp; They had been invited by the governor and their own gladiator was in the arena marking this as a special occasion.<br><br>While the crowd itself seemed to be half crazed, the woman sitting next to Melita had a strange sense of calm about her as she looked on towards the bloodshed.&nbsp; Through all the chaos and the brutality, her eyes were trained on a single figure standing victoriously over his fallen foe waiting for the judgment on whether the young boy would live or die.&nbsp; Never once did the woman’s dark brown eyes stray from the man as she watched each and every movement waiting to see what he would do next.&nbsp; When Tireus declared that death would be the youth’s fate a strange smiled crossed the woman’s beautiful features as she watched on with baited breath while the gladiator thrust his blade through his outmatched opponent.&nbsp; It was no surprise, really, everyone knew Faelen would win.&nbsp; It was what made him so valuable to her family; the fact that he had never once been defeated when he stepped foot onto the sandy arena.&nbsp; As Faelen left the woman seemed to lose interest in all other matches as she rested back against her seat and raised a hand to cover her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun.<br><br>“Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”&nbsp; Tireus croaked out sounding winded as if he had run a marathon.&nbsp; The woman rolled her eyes before turning towards him flashing him a seductive smile that had stopped the breath of many men.&nbsp; “It is quite the spectacle.”&nbsp; She purred, her voice a sultry whisper as she looked towards the slob of a man.&nbsp; Silva held no love for this pompous fool who gorged himself on fine with and decadent food.&nbsp; Her own father would often times rage against the bastard in the privacy of their home but they were out in public and she was expected to show proper decorum.&nbsp; Such a shame that they didn’t throw Tireus into the arena and let the gladiators have their way with them.&nbsp; That would have been a show she would eagerly watch.&nbsp; <br><br>The governor leered at her, his cheeks tinted red though that may have been because he was constantly struggling for breath.&nbsp; “If you will excuse me.”&nbsp; Silva said as she rose from her seat giving a small bow to her father and the governor.&nbsp; The only part of the fighting she’d been interested in had passed and all that remained would bore her to tears if she sat around and watched.&nbsp; Besides, she had more important matters to attend to.&nbsp; Faelen would surely be back in his cell by now and she was eager to give her congratulations.&nbsp; Bidding goodbye to the nobles surrounding them, Silva quickly made her way down the stairs heading for the interior of the arena.<br><br>The white toga swayed as she moved the silky fabric clinging to her curves as red and gold threads decorated the fringes of the fabric.&nbsp; Luscious chestnut locks gently curled around her face catching the light of the sun.&nbsp; Silva knew her appearance had caught the eyes of many men in her life and her father had been eager to have her wed.&nbsp; He thought that through her marriage he would gain more influence for their already powerful family.&nbsp; After all, both her father, uncles and grandfather had seats in the senate and they were always looking for ways to increase their influence.&nbsp; Sadly, his eldest daughter had no inclinations of becoming someone’s prize.&nbsp; She was far too ambitious to become a wife and the thirst for power seemed to have become an inherited trait.<br><br>The guards stood at attention at the doors though as she approached she could see them trading curious glances.&nbsp; “I wish to see Faelen.”&nbsp; Silva announced.&nbsp; Though these men carried weapons and easily towered over her delicate and feminine frame they seemed almost afraid of her.&nbsp; The Curius family held quite the reputation and Silva herself had an air about her that seeming to challenge any sort of defiance.&nbsp; The younger of the pair looked around nervously but he could only nod his head as he turned to lead her towards Faelen’s cell.&nbsp; For all the training and glory the gladiators won they were still treated very much like prisoners confined to their cells when not out in the arena.&nbsp; <br><br>She followed the guard down the hall letting her eyes sweep over the other cells finding nothing worthy of her attention in any of the other men.&nbsp; The one she had come to see was Faelen and he was the only one who interested her.<br><br>“We’re here, my lady.”&nbsp; The young guard stuttered nervously as he unlocked the doors of Faelen’s cell to allow her to enter.&nbsp; <br><br>“You may leave.”&nbsp; She ordered leaving no room for protest.&nbsp; Despite her slight frame against such a warrior she didn’t seem to fear for her safety.&nbsp; Only a fool would dare attack a noble woman.&nbsp; To do so was to resign yourself to a fate worse than any death.&nbsp; Besides, Silva was confident that she could take care of herself even against someone like Faelen.&nbsp; After all, he was but a simple gladiator.<br><br>“Your show out there was quite impressive.”&nbsp; She said as she entered his cell and cast her eyes towards the man.&nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>23-07-2012, 12:22:32</strong>
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				<br>The guards locked the cell door behind him leaving him in near darkness, the only light coming from the small barred window near the ceiling of his cold, damp cell. He was one of the fortunate ones, due to his status he had a cell to himself. The majority of the gladiators and other slaves had so share a similar sized cell with a dozen others, their cramped quarters rat infested and filthy. <br><br>Once he heard their footsteps retreat down the corridor outside he sat up on his bed and leant down by the wall to the adjoining cell, carefully gripping the edges of one of the bricks with his finger tips and slowly pulling it out of its place in the wall. Almost two years it had taken him to work away the mortar with a variety of small objects he had managed to palm away on his person. He'd hoped it would allow him to find some means of escape, maybe a tunnel out of the belly of the arena and into the city beyond and freedom. To say he was disappointed it had only allowed him a glimpse of another dingy empty cell was an understatement. He'd cursed the day he started working his fingers to the bone at first. But when they had moved someone into the cell his opinion had changed. <br><br>When he had first been imprisoned for the crimes the Roman's had alleged his father committed he was virtually a savage, he could not read or write, knew very little of the ways of the world outside his village in a forgotten part of Brittania and fought only out of rage at the people who dared take away is freedom. He had learned rather quickly that blind rage did not make you a great fighter, just a careless one.&nbsp; When he was taken to the gladiator school he learned from painful experience that to be a great warrior you needed to be disciplined and focused. Out of his hatred of all things Roman he took it upon himself to train hard and become the best fighter he possibly could be, quickly mastering all the fighting techniques they taught him. He also learned that as a gladiator and slave he would never learn more than how to fight, something he knew would not be enough to exact revenge on those who had hunted his father down and enslaved him and his mother. <br><br>"Faelan." The whisper came from the cell beside his, the voice carrying through the gap in the wall. "Another victory then." The old man's voice was hoarse with age, but yet still calming to Faelan, quite possibly his only friend in all of Rome and someone who had changed his life for the better. Bacchus had been a tax collector in Rome's northern province until eight years ago when his sticky fingers had gotten him cast into prison, surprisingly even at his advanced then he elected to fight for his freedom. He hadn't won, but the governor at the time had laughed so hard at the sight of the old man in the arena he spared his life and gave him duties more suited to his age - or at least that's what Bacchus had told him when they first introduced themselves through the small gap all those years ago. <br><br>"Aye Bacchus, victory once again." The tone of the younger man's voice left the other man in no doubt that the victory had left a sour taste in his mouth. "It was a morning of justice for the masses, hopefully the fight later today will be more of a test of my mettle, maybe I will learn something from this one."<br><br>"Be careful lad, do not let these things worry you, it is the way of the world we live in, you ought to be used to it now. Clear your head of the morning's events and prepare yourself for a sterner test later." There was both a warning tone and one of concern for the young gladiator in Bacchus' voice. For several years now, the old man had taught Faelan as much as he could about the people and geography of the Roman Empire and the world beyond, encouraged him to learn to read and write, all in the hope that he would be ready when the time came. Bacchus knew of Faelan's hatred for the Empire and to some degree he shared it, but the younger man's heart burned with rage against the Centurion and the masters he served for taking him and his mother from their homes and enslaving them and murdering his people. He was a respected and feared fighter, undefeated in the arena, the other gladiators would follow him, should he choose to lead. Bacchus was cautious but confident that when the time came Faelan would take on the mantle of their leader and take the gladiators to freedom. <br><br>"You are leaving us soon I hear lad. Heading to the provinces on a tour of the arenas. You could impress many there with your prowess. It would be a good way for you to learn more about what we have discussed recently." Bacchus said calmly, though he hoped desperately Faelan would talk to the gladiators out in the provinces as he had suggested on first hearing of the planned tour in the house of their master. <br><br>"Yes, we leave in a week I am told. Do you really think the others will care about what happens here?" The young man sounded slightly dubious. <br><br>"Lad, if they see what you could achieve with your influence and skill, they will follow I guarantee it. All you have to do is... Quick, the guards are returning.. We will talk more tonight." The old man scurried away from the hole in the wall as Faelan quickly replaced the brick before lying down on his bed just as he caught sight of the guard's flickering torchlight.&nbsp; <br><br>He stood slowly, his rough vest itching his lean, muscular torso. That&nbsp; and a simple loincloth were his only clothing, his well muscled arms and legs bare. Outside his cell he heard the guards speaking and the voice of a woman also. It wasn't uncommon for women to try to see him and the other more successful fighters, often his master would take him and some of the others to social gatherings at the villas of rich and powerful families in an attempt to impress them with staged fights, sometimes they would even offer their services in other ways. Faelan hated such events and those decadent fools that attended such things. <br><br>The door opened and two guards motioned for him to stay where he was, looking slightly unsure of the situation. Faelan was puzzled until from between the guards a young woman appeared and dismissed the soldiers with a nonchalant word and nod of her head, chestnut hair bouncing with the motion. She was slightly build especially next to his broad frame, but there was an air of confidence bordering on arrogance to her, something he'd not seen before. Most of the girls that threw themselves at gladiators were in awe of their strength and acted like little kittens next to a lion. She had a tanned complexion, making her most likely a Roman woman, a fact borne out by her expensive looking toga. He tried to pay no heed to the shape of her body underneath, keeping his eyes forward, looking at a point above her head on the wall beyond. She spoke to him, her voice as smooth as honey.&nbsp; <br><br>"Then you are easily impressed." He retorted, unable to keep a hint of contempt from his voice. "He was barely a man and deserved better than death." He knew he was courting trouble with his attitude but something about this woman troubled him already. Her stance and demeanour were different from the other girls and it worried him. "I have a fight to prepare for soon." He said, hoping she would get the hint and leave.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>24-07-2012, 02:55:40</strong>
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				Either she didn’t hear him or she simply didn’t care but Silva made no movement to show she was the least bit offended by his tone.&nbsp; Instead, she seemed to be inspecting him like a farmer would an animal being prepared for the slaughter.&nbsp; Silva took a step forward stepping closer in the already crowded cell as her eyes swept over his body taking in every detail from his feet up to the top of his head.&nbsp; Her chin rested on the back of her hand as she watched him; calculating, predatory.&nbsp; He certainly was quite the specimen and she was elated to see he was even more fearsome up close.&nbsp; <br><br>“Old enough to commit a crime, old enough to die.”&nbsp; She stated simply brushing off his words.&nbsp; It was discerning how easily she shrugged off the young man’s gruesome death.&nbsp; “Besides, if you so valued his life you would have sacrificed your own to save him.”<br><br>A gladiator with a conscience, what an amusing idea.&nbsp; Full pink lips pulled up into a condescending smile as she gave him a small chuckle.&nbsp; How quaint that a&nbsp; man who lived simply to kill others had such grand ideas on what a criminal did or did not deserve.&nbsp; Such rulings were not for him to dwell on.&nbsp; He simply had a job to do and one he had been doing beautifully given his reputation.&nbsp; Time and time again her father had spoken volumes of how lucky they were he’d had the thought of mind to buy Faelen’s master and Faelen in turn.&nbsp; The gladiator had done quite the job of winning their family power and fortune.&nbsp; <br><br>“I’m not easily impressed but I have been following you for a while.”&nbsp; She purred.&nbsp; Her dark eyes sought his as she smirked up at him seemingly unfazed by whatever he had to say.&nbsp; Certainly if her father were here he would be punished for his insolence but Silva found his contempt to be such an appealing charm.&nbsp; This man obviously had no patience of kindness for her even without knowing who she was.&nbsp; Usually most slaves had the sense of mind not to outright display their hatred of their captors but so many years in the arena had probably worn that illusion thin for him.&nbsp; After all, he was the strongest gladiator Rome had seen for many years and he was a force feared by all those who dared step into the arena with him.&nbsp; <br><br>Oh but he would make the most wonderful of toys.<br><br>“My father was especially impressed by your bout against Senator Alerio’s fighter in the fight last week.&nbsp; The two had been having quite the argument over the new tax laws and you certainly did your job to end that argument quickly.&nbsp; My father always says you certainly are worth your weight in gold.”&nbsp; That information would at least give him some idea of just who she was.&nbsp; Silva was used to people knowing her without her having to introduce herself but she supposed it was reasonable for Faelen to be ignorant.&nbsp; After all, he probably only concerned himself with training, eating and sleeping leaving no time for the world of politics which was so clearly above him.&nbsp; <br><br>“Undefeated after all these years and still growing strong.&nbsp; Really, how could one keep from being impressed by such a record?”&nbsp; She moved closer again her hips swaying from side to side as she approached him.&nbsp; <br><br>Faelen’s bronzed and muscled frame easily towered over her but Silva didn’t flinch as she stepped closer stopping only mere inches away.&nbsp; She could see the scars on his skin from previous matches.&nbsp; He was hard, rough, unlike the pampered nobles who grew fat and lazy dining on the most decadent of foods.&nbsp; Faelen was so very different from the men she had seen, the men she had brushed off so coldly when they asked her to stop and talk.&nbsp; They were weak, soft but he was something that could keep her amused.&nbsp; <br><br>“No need to be discourteous.&nbsp; I’m merely a fan who wanted to make your acquaintance.”&nbsp; The smile changed now into something far more sweet and pleasant but that didn’t hide the predatory look in her eyes.&nbsp; She was sizing him up for something, that much was obvious, though he would have a difficult time knowing just what it was she wanted.&nbsp; In truth, most would have balked or shook their heads in they could read her mind and Faelen himself would have probably roared laughing if he knew what was going through that cunning little mind of hers as she looked him up and down with a critical eye.<br><br>“My name is Silva.&nbsp; It’s a pleasure to meet you.”&nbsp; She said finally as she extended her hand in greeting.&nbsp; A noble woman actually seeking to greet a gladiator was something almost unheard of but she hardly seemed one for traditional conventions.&nbsp; After all, what woman in her right mind would seek out the gladiator in his own cell?&nbsp; She was something different from the others and that made her a very dangerous person.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>24-07-2012, 14:30:26</strong>
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				<br>She seemed totally at ease standing close to him in his cell, her eyes taking in every detail as she scrutinised him as one would a horse they were about to ride. <br><br>Her cold words almost shocked him, but then one simply had to look to the crowds baying for blood every time a gladiator stepped into the arena to realise how bloodthirsty Romans were. She was no different, none of them were worth saving in the end. It would not be difficult for him when the time came. <br><br>"He chose the wrong day to be brave, but he at least chose to fight for something he believed in. I imagine few in the crowds today would do the same." His words came out carefully neutral, as if he was commenting on the weather rather than passing judgement on a culture. <br><br>She <em>laughed</em> at him! Who was this woman to laugh at he, Faelan, undefeated in the arena, Rome's foremost gladiator? Impressed was she? Were he not in his cell he would make an impression on her. On her neck with his hands... <br><br>He breathed out through his nose, steadying his breathing. Controlling his rising temper, he watched her eyes as they travelled over his body with some interest. She was certainly confident, he had to give her that. "Really? I am touched you take such an interest in me, a mere slave. Is there a reason you have come here, or did you merely wish to waste the afternoon gazing upon my body?" He knew he should hold his tongue, but she had dared to laugh at him and he had little time for such antics, especially not today with another fight this afternoon. He detested time wasters, and this woman unsettled him more so than most.&nbsp; <br><br>Senator Alerio's man had put up a valiant fight before he had put him down, the man had been spared but he would likely not fight again. But.. He almost closed his eyes as he reassembled what she had just said, the feeling of dread causing his stomach to sink to the cold floor of his cell. Her father? Wait.. She was Curius's daughter? Senator Curius had bought Faelan when he had first arrived in Rome, apparently paying quite a price for him, though he had made his price several times over according to what Bacchus had told him. He'd also learned quite a bit about the Curius family too, though it would be best to play it dumb, after all he was just an arena slave and not expected to be savvy with current politics. He realised now that his earlier insolence might have gotten him more trouble than he needed right now, but there was little he could do about it now. <br><br>"I fight because I do not wish to die, no other reason." He said flatly, eyes looking forward, not meeting the woman's dark eyes, but noticing a spark of something there, something that told him he may regret his earlier words. "I imagine my record here would impress those who are aware of how dangerous the arena is."<br><br>He felt more uncomfortable as she stepped closer to him, her hips almost brushing against him. He felt her warmth as she stood by him, smelled her scent, unmistakable feminine. He fought against the voice at the back of his mind, urged his heart to steady itself. He had a fight to prepare for and this woman was distracting him. His breathing steady, his voice calm he spoke to her again.&nbsp; <br><br>"I apologise my lady, but I have a fight to prepare for as you may be aware. For that I need to focus and intentionally or not you have proven a distraction." Her smile seemed sweet enough but the look in her eyes told another story. "Silva.." He repeated softly, more to himself as a reminder than any other reason. He realised he probably sounded a little simple. Well, that may be for the best, if she knew what he was plotting she may just have him killed. <br><br>"Mistress." He took her hand in his, shaking it slowly and gently, not knowing if that was what was expected of him. "Is there anything else you wish of me?" He hoped his words were courteous, but he truly desired her to leave him to his usual pre-fight routine. He needed to clear his mind of everything but the fight and her scent and the lingering warmth of her hand in his was proving more of a distraction than he'd anticipated. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>25-07-2012, 01:38:11</strong>
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				“I wasn’t aware criminals did what they did because it was something to believe in.&nbsp; Tell me, would you say the same of the murderers, tax evaders and thieves who were also in the arena?”&nbsp; Oh dear, don’t tell her he actually had a conscience.&nbsp; Others died so that he may live but he actually thought them to be brave for stepping into the ring?&nbsp; “It wasn’t bravery, it was a gamble.&nbsp; At least in the arena there was some small chance he could win.”&nbsp; Though a miniscule chance at best given who his opponent was.&nbsp; <br><br>Oh, he certainly was the angry one.&nbsp; The man was huffing like a bull ready to charge and Silva was enjoying every minute of it.&nbsp; Sure, a saner person would have been scared but there was really nothing to fear.&nbsp; They both knew he wouldn’t dare attack her here and not for something as trivial as the barbs she had thrown his way.&nbsp; Faelen had spent years fighting simply to survive; there was no way he would throw that all away just because of a few of her comments.&nbsp; <br><br>Ah.&nbsp; It seemed realization was finally dawning upon the man.&nbsp; The outright contempt certainly seemed to have dissipated as he answered her with a flatter tone.&nbsp; Perhaps he was recounting what he had said only moments before and trying to figure out just how he would pay for his attitude.&nbsp; <br><br>And pay he would.<br><br>Silva may have found him amusing but she did not let such disrespect go without punishment.&nbsp; Faelen was a gladiator, a slave and it seemed he had been coddled too much and forgotten his place.&nbsp; She would see to it that he remembered but that was for another time.&nbsp; For now she would remain pleasant as she bided her time using whatever information she had at her disposal.&nbsp; Right now she only wished to meet him face to face before proceeding with her plans.&nbsp; After all, she had taken such a special interest in this man and it really wouldn’t do if he didn’t remember just who he was talking to.<br><br>She smiled as he shook her hand and repeated her name as if committing it to memory.&nbsp; At least he’d changed his tone to something more courteous than how he had addressed her earlier.&nbsp; He was smart enough to realize when he’d made a mistaken and what he needed to do to salvage it.&nbsp; Apparently he was more than just a strong-armed brute.&nbsp; Of course, it took more than just strength to win battle after battle in the arena.&nbsp; She’d seen plenty stand before him who were twice his size and strength yet Faelen had managed to defeat them one after the other.&nbsp; Only a complete idiot wouldn’t believe that the man had to have some sort of tactical mind just to survive this long.&nbsp; Silva may have been many things but she was no fool and she’d learned long ago the pitfalls of underestimating one’s opponents.<br><br>“Yes, your next fight.&nbsp; I believe the governor is quite eager to see you in the arena against a more worthy opponent.”&nbsp; That soft idiot was probably relishing in the idea of seeing men far stronger than him fight for his amusement.&nbsp; He probably gained no small bit of pleasure in the idea that he could command a warrior’s life or death with a simple gesture of his hand.&nbsp; <br><br>“Well, don’t let me keep you.”&nbsp; She answered simply as she pulled her hand away and turned to leave him to his thoughts once more.&nbsp; Silva had seen all she’d wanted to and there was no need to linger.<br><br>She walked away from him making to leave his cell before she stopped and turned her head towards him as if an afterthought.&nbsp; “If I may offer some advice…I would watch that tongue of yours.&nbsp; The people of Rome are not known for their mercy and you don’t need to be making yourself any enemies outside these coliseum walls.”&nbsp; It almost sounded like a threat if it wasn’t matched with such a terribly sweet smile and a voice as soft and smooth as velvet.&nbsp; <br><br>With that she summoned the guards and left him eager to take her seat once more.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 13:55:14</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>He wasn't sure if it was a friendly one or not, but her final statement, for all her sweet smiles was without doubt a warning. Of course, he hadn't survived this long without some brains between his ears. He didn't need her to give him advice on how to keep his head, though in the space of ten minutes Silva had managed to do what few people outside of the sandy arena had managed, she'd gotten under his skin. He vowed that would not happen again. <br><br>The guards left with the noblewoman but Faelan knew there would be precious little time before he would be taken to prepare for the next bout of the day, this one presenting far more of a challenge than the last. He tried to put the woman from his mind as he contemplated the coming fight. Her comments about criminals had him thinking about his own attitude to those he killed, did they deserve death because they took the risk? Who was he to question the way a whole society chose to operate? Bah! Bacchus was right, think only of the fight. <br><br>He stood, eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly, clearing his mind of all distractions, thinking only of how he would deal with his next opponent. He found his inner calm and felt his heartbeat slowing. He could hear the blood pumping in his veins, his breath come into his body slowly and evenly as he focused his mind was cleared of all but what lay ahead in the next fight.<br><br>The guards came soon and led him to the ante-room next to the entrance to the arena floor. He could hear the noise of the crowds above, dulled through the thick ceiling but the sounds of the crowd's lust for blood was unmistakable. His armour and weapons were laid out for him and a couple of young slaves helped him get ready. He took off his rough shirt revealing his lean, muscular torso, muscles flexing as he passed the shirt to one of the young men, noticing the awe struck, almost fearful look in his eyes as he took in the sight of Faelan's near naked body. The other lad, similarly nervous around him - his reputation as a fearsome, merciless warrior clearly imprinted on him also - began binding his right arm in preparation for strapping on his manica, the banded metal armour that protected his right side. Once that was in place the first lad knelt before him, and strapped on his shin guard as the second boy fetched his helmet. The lad lingered at his side a moment longer than necessary to buckle the armour plate to his leg, a strange look in his eyes, a look that Faelan missed entirely. <br><br>He motioned to one of the slaves and he brought forth a cup of water from the well, taking it back when Faelan had drank his fill. <br><br>His vision narrowed to a tight angle as the full face helmet was put in place, its large brim and gold gilded crest making the helm weigh heavy on his neck and shoulders. He had become accustomed to it over the years, but initially he had thought it more of a hindrance. These days he used it to help him focus on the opponent in front of him, his skill and agility meaning very few foe managed to escape his attention. <br><br>His helmet and armour donned, the two slaves fetched his other gear; a heavy rectangular metal shield, smaller than a Roman legionnaires, but still a formidable defence and a gladius,&nbsp; the typical Roman short sword. <br><br>He flexed his muscles, rolling his shoulders and warming up his limbs as he heard the roar of the crowd rise to a crescendo. Outside, in the arena proper, an announcer struggled to be heard over the voice of the masses:<br><br><em>"Faelan, undefeated champion of the arena, proud warrior of House Curius!"</em><br><br>(http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/36/566x976_7605_Gladiator_3d_fantasy_armor_warrior_anatomy_gladiator_picture_image_digital_art.jpg)<br><br>The gladiators entrance to the arena floor was opened, the noise of the crowd and the heat of the day washing over him. Faelan strode purposefully into the bright afternoon sun, his eyes adjusting from the flickering torchlight of the staging room. He saw his foe across the arena, sizing him up in a matter of seconds as the two advanced cautiously across the hot sands of the killing ground.&nbsp; <br><br><em>"And his opponent, from the gladiator stables of Governor Tireus. Discovered by the 12th Legion in the barbaric desert tribes&nbsp; of exotic Aegyptus, Mubato the Huntsman!"</em><br><br>He was dark skinned, something Faelan had only seen since his enslavement and service in the arena. Tall and rangy, the man wore a simple loincloth and carried a long trident in one hand and a large weighted net in the other. His face was daubed with what Faelan deduced was old tribal warpaint harking back to the ways of his homeland. The man moved like a hunter, someone used to being predator rather than prey. He would have to change that thinking soon if he wanted to survive the afternoon, for Faelan was prey to nothing. <br><br>The two closed the distance across the sandy arena floor, the hunter moving swiftly, attempting to circle Faelan. The crow roared as the Aegyptian jabbed at Faelan with his trident, using its superior reach to try and breach his defences. Metal clanged against metal as Faelan's shield easily blocked the thrusts. Faelan feinted to strike back with his gladius forcing the tribesman to dance back out of reach for a moment as the champion sought an opening in the man's defences. Mubato had the longer reach of the two and his net could be used both offensively and defensively, being made of heavy rope and having weights attached to the edges. He lacked any armour however, so Faelan only had to land a solid blow with his sword to injure him and put an end to the fight. <br><br>The two circled each other warily for a few minutes, Mubato jabbing away with his trident and Faelan easily blocking his efforts with his shield. The heat beat down on the pair in the centre of the arena, the canvas awning offering them no protection while the crowd sat in the relative comfort of its shade. Faelan knew the longer the fight went on, the more it favoured the tribesman. Brittania was never blessed with such heat, even in the height of summer and despite his experience he knew he could not outlast this foe in the heat. <br><br>Suddenly Mubato lashed out at Faelan's legs with his net forcing the Brittain to dive out of the way or be dragged to the ground. He rolled to his feet and barely had time to raise his shield to block the man's trident lest it pierce his chest. He backed off, shield raised as the man launched jab after jab with his weapon. Breathing heavily Faelan saw the confidence and hatred in the other gladiator's eyes - he wasn't going to let up or show any mercy, but he was getting cocky too. <br><br>Fending off his opponents latest attacks Faelan seemingly fumbled with his shield for a moment. Mubato took this as a sign of weakness and launched another series of strikes with his trident, a fierce grin breaking out on the man's dark face. Faelan staggered back from the onslaught dropping to one knee as he caught sight of his opponent prepare to throw his net and ensnare Faelan. Knowing his opponent would move in for the kill as he struggled on the arena floor weighed down by the heavy net, Faelan afforded himself a sly smile hidden by his helmet. His plan was about to be tested, with his life forfeit if he was wrong. <br><br>As Faelan stumbled to one knee Mubato cast his net wide, covering the armoured gladiator's shield and helm. The armoured helmet of the secutor was designed with a retarius in mind, its curved design and wide brim perfect for deflecting the weighted net of such a foe. Having previously unbuckled the strapping of his heavy shield Faelan was able to quickly slip his arm free and roll forward under the net, coming up with his gladius held firmly in his right hand he met the hunter as his foe stepped forward to skewer him with his trident. As the shield clattered to the arena floor Faelan's sword slid into the stomach of the overconfident tribesman just as his trident grazed his right shoulder. Pain shot through his arm as a line of blood marked his injury. The pain would pass thought Faelan as the crowd erupted into a frenzy as his opponent toppled wordlessly to the floor, sword still embedded in his belly, his eyes lifelessly staring at the clear blue sky.<br><br>Faelen got to his feet, heedless of the blood trickling down his arm, a sheen of sweat covering his body, torso heaving as he received the laurel that signified his victory. Match over, he turned from the crowds and strode back down the tunnel to the apothecary, the two slaves even more in awe of him as they helped him out of his armour.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>30-07-2012, 10:05:13</strong>
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				Silva quickly hurried back to her seat as she felt the anticipation building amongst the crowd.&nbsp; &nbsp;The events earlier had been but an appetizer and now everyone was ready for the main event.&nbsp; Prisoners and criminals were toys but few had the talent that trained warriors possessed.&nbsp; &nbsp;This would prove to be quite an interesting match and Silva had no doubt that there would be more than a few wagers put on the outcome of this particular battle.&nbsp; Besides, this was the whole reason Governor Tireus had invited them here.&nbsp; The man probably wanted to gloat in her father’s face when his warrior did the unthinkable and defeated Faelen.<br><br>“You’re back?”&nbsp; Senator Curius asked the a passing glance before turning his attention back to the arena.&nbsp; He was used to his daughter running off to do what she liked.&nbsp; Silva had been headstrong even as a child and her temperament certainly hadn’t improved with age.&nbsp; <br><br>“Is it almost over?”&nbsp; Melita whispered as her sister took her seat beside her.&nbsp; The poor girl looked positively green as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat probably counting down the moments until they could leave.&nbsp; It was hard to image the two shared any blood given Melita’s passive nature which seemed to contrast starkly against the drive for power that had become a staple in their family.&nbsp; Silva gave the girl a reassuring pat on her hand promising her that they would leave soon enough but not until the next mach.&nbsp; Faelen had made it clear he wished to be alone to prepare and she was eager to see if his preparations had paid off.<br><br>When the two men entered the arena the crowd leapt to their feet their voices joining together in cheers for what would surely be a spectacular match.&nbsp; Tireus had been bragging about this huntsman for the past few weeks and everyone wanted to see how this exotic fighter would match up against the undefeated gladiator.&nbsp; In the privacy of their own villa, her father had said the Governor was simply blowing smoke out of his ass and that he was eager to present a challenge to Faelen given some arguments they had been having lately.<br><br>Mubato made the first move and Silva was on the edge of her seat watching with rapt interest.&nbsp; The Huntsman almost seemed to have the upper hand as he jabbed at Faelen putting the gladiator on the defensive as he easily blocked the strikes of the trident.&nbsp; If it weren’t for the weapons it would have almost seemed as if they were engaged in some sort of intricate dance with the way they so swiftly moved.&nbsp; A thrust here, a dodge there they appeared to be evenly matched but that wasn’t good enough for Silva.&nbsp; She didn’t care for a draw; she wanted bloodshed.&nbsp; The crowd was hungry as they cried out for their favorite demanding blood be spilled on the sand as tribute.&nbsp; <br><br>“I can’t watch.” Melita whimpered as she shielded her eyes with her hands as Mubato aimed for the gladiator’s feet drawing a cheer from few and a groan from many.&nbsp; <br><br>Silva turned to her left and she saw Tireus grinning like a well-fed cat waiting for his victory.&nbsp; He seemed so assured of this success that he was openly goading Senator Curius who remained silent and stony-faced.&nbsp; Her father had never been one to show a wide spectrum of emotion and preferred to wait until the very end before gloating of admitting defeat.<br><br>The net was thrown and it seemed as if it were all over.&nbsp; Few would be able to defend themselves under the weight and mesh of the net and Mubato looked like he was aiming to kill.&nbsp; The crowd once more roared to life their voices either angry or proud and even the Governor joined in with the cheering raising his voice high above the others.&nbsp; It would all end with one final blow as Faelen struggled against the weight of the net and Mubato approached but then Faelen rolled and it was all over.&nbsp; The Huntsman froze in his place and blood pooled from the open wound before he collapsed dead staining the sand red with his blood.<br><br>It was over.<br><br>Faelen had won.<br><br>Just like that the cheers that erupted in the arena seemed to shake the very foundation of the coliseum as people jumped to their feet and clapped their hands wildly at what they had just seen.&nbsp; This was a true fight and it had ended with another victory for the man who couldn’t seem to be defeated.&nbsp; Soon enough, Mubato’s body was being carted off but even that couldn’t stop the hollering and excitement.&nbsp; The Governor himself looked as if he had swallowed a particularly bitter wine while her father crossed his arms the faintest hint of a smile across his lips before it once more faded.<br><br>Silva took a deep breath feeling her heart race as she watched Faelen’s retreating figure march towards the tunnel.&nbsp; She had made a wise decision after all when she had picked him.<br><br>A man who seemed to be immortal.&nbsp; Feared by all who crossed his path and second to none.&nbsp; People either idolized him or feared him in some sense.&nbsp; Silva; well she wanted to break him.&nbsp; To see this proud and terrifying warrior bow before her whimpering and broken promising her the world if only she would ---<br><br>“Thank you for inviting us, Governor Tireus.”&nbsp; The Senator said as he rose from his seat and bid the Governor goodbye.&nbsp; Silva and her sister quickly followed after their father though she stopped for the smallest bit of time to turn and see the blood still staining the sand.&nbsp; She’d have to pay Faelen a visit very soon.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>30-07-2012, 15:05:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>The cool sanctuary of the apothecary beckoned him as he stood in the ante-room, the two young men working on the straps that held his armour. His helmet was removed with the utmost of care by the first lad, a tall blonde haired lad in his late teens. Faelan received many a sideways glance from him as the other, shorter, dark haired lad slowly removed the heavy metal plating from his leg, kneeling by his side as his hands fumbled with the buckle of the leather straps binding the armour to his well muscled leg. Faelan paid no heed to the shaking of the lad's hands as the adrenaline slowly faded from his system, the blood still pumping loudly in his ears and the chorus of approval from the crowds still fresh in his mind. Another fight and another victory he thought to himself. And yet no closer to my ultimate goal of revenge.&nbsp; <br><br>"Marcus!" Bellowed the slave master as he entered the ante-room. "Hurry up you idiot, Faelan here needs his injury tended too, I don't want him bleeding to death while you fumble around on your knees." The slave master of House Curius was a middle aged, stern faced ex-gladiator, with a reputation for harsh treatment of the slaves in his care. He did however seem to have made an exception for Faelan since his rise to prominence on the arena circuit. While he didn't give any luxuries as such to the champion gladiator he did ensure he had a slightly better diet and only rarely dished out any physical punishment - quite probably because Faelan's prowess scared the man - though he was still treat as a slave and the property of Senator Curius and his family. <br><br>"Antonius! Take over. You, useless fool, go and make sure that Faelan's bath is ready."&nbsp; <br><br>The slave master punctuated his orders with a firm swipe of the whip he always carried with him, catching the lad across the back of the shoulders as he went. Antonius seemed to take the treatment of his companion as a warning and managed to have Faelan out of his armour in double quick time, leaving him standing clad only in his loincloth, drying blood tricking the length of his right arm. The sweat cooled quickly on his body in the torchlit interior of the arena, its tunnels and chambers always chill compared to the sunbaked arena floor. Faelan supressed a shiver as his body recovered from the exertions of the fight and walked to the archway that led to the apothecary. <br><br>Inside the smell of dried blood, sweat and death hung heavy in the air. The injured and dying made their way here after a fight, usually carried on a stretcher for the injuries suffered by many gladiators were grievous, many choosing to fight on rather than surrender knowing their fate was in the hands of someone else. Faelan had been here before, fortunately only for injuries such as those he'd suffered today. The apothecary was an old man,&nbsp; surgeon and healer to House Curius and had tended to Faelan on several occasions. He looked the gladiator over for a moment before having him sit on a chair next to his large wooden table. Faelan noted there were more bloodstains on the table than last time and wondered how many had lost their lives there - just as many as out in the sun he ventured, there wasn't much to be done for those suffering from a blade to the guts or an axe to the chest. He prayed to his ancestors he would never have to endure more than a few stitches here and there. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sting of pain as the old man unceremoniously washed his gashed shoulder before quickly stitching up the wound with a long bone needle and thin thread made of animal tendon. Faelan felt the needle piercing the skin and the pull of the wound as the apothecary carried on his treatment. Once he'd finished by roughly tying the end of the thread into a crude knot he said in a matter of fact manner. "Your opponent was dead when he reached me. There was nothing to be done." He nodded his head to a shape covered in a white cloth lying on a stretcher in the corner of the room. Faelan made no reply, there was as the old man said, nothing to be done. He had won, his opponent was dead - better for Faelan it was this way round.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Dismissed with a nod, Faelan made his way back through the ante-room, gingerly rolling his shoulder and noting how tight the stitches pinched his skin together he entered the bathing chamber, noticing the steam rising up from the sunken bath. The two lads were just finishing filling the bath and put down their wooden buckets as Faelan entered. "Please, disrobe yourself and let us tend to your weary muscles." Marcus said as Faelan approached, motioning to a wooden bench near the bath. He reached for a cloth and some oils as he offered to massage the victorious gladiator. Antonius busied himself adding some soothing oils and herbs to the bath water "once you have been tended to, you are free to lay in the bath for as long as you require, Master Curius has ensured you will not be disturbed."<br><br>Faelan tugged at the knot holding his lioncloth and let it fall to the cool stone floor of the bath chamber before lying face first on the cushioned wooden bench. Faelan closed his eyes and breathed evenly as the young man worked some warm soothing oil into the muscles of his broad back with his hands. He was surprisingly strong and his ministrations did much to ease the tensions in the bigger man's body. He paid particular attention to Faelan's upper arms and the backs of his thighs before asking him to turn over and lie on his back. Eyes closed he missed the reaction of the young man to seeing his completely naked body up close. The young man steadied his hands before working the oils into the skin of Faelan's well muscles torso, he applied the same pressure to his thighs and upper torso, though he was careful not to get any oil into the freshly sewn wound on his shoulder. <br><br>After an indeterminate, but undoubtedly lengthy massage the two lads offered to wash Faelan in the bath and then let him relax alone. Stepping slowly into the pleasantly warm, scented water Faelan ducked under the water, wincing as the water seeped into the cut on his shoulder, standing up in the warm pool and wiping the water from his eyes. For a few moments the slave's washed his body with soft cloth's taking care to remove any lasting traces of blood from his arm and to keep the wound clean. They left after a few minutes, Faelan unsure if they had been called or if they had sensed his desire for solitude. He lay back in the soothing oily water and cleared his mind of the days events, thinking of nothing but the fact he had lived another day. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>01-08-2012, 11:47:55</strong>
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				“Are you coming home?”&nbsp; The Senator asked as he gave his daughter a curious glance.&nbsp; Silva seemed uncharacteristically distracted and she had disappeared for a bit giving no explanation as to where he was going.&nbsp; &nbsp;The man was weary of what was running through the young woman’s head knowing that whatever plans were keeping her occupied couldn’t possibly be good news to him.&nbsp; <br><br>If she had been born a boy, he would have been proud.&nbsp; Silva had the makings to be a powerful political figure given how easily she manipulated those around her with little care towards their well-beings.&nbsp; The Senator saw himself reflected in his daughter’s eyes as they sparked with cunning and intrigued.&nbsp; She craved power, craved control and let nothing stand in her way of getting what she wanted.&nbsp; If she had been a male the world would have been at her fingertips and power in her grasp.&nbsp; Sadly, the Senator had never been blessed with a son having only his two daughters to carry on his blood.&nbsp; Melita would make a fine wife to a man lucky enough to have such a sweet and demure girl.&nbsp; Silva, despite being older than her sister, seemed to have no interest in any sort of marriage.&nbsp; They’d had screaming matches over the subject but the girl simply wouldn’t budge saying she wouldn’t confine herself to that sort of prison.&nbsp; It infuriated Curius who’d had many requests for his daughter’s hand and who’d had to turn them all away when she simply refused to even consider the notion. His daughters marrying would only add to the family’s already substantial political might but it simply was no use arguing with Silva.&nbsp; She was too stubborn for her own good; a trait his wife said he shared with her.<br><br>“No, I have a few other matters to attend to.”&nbsp; The woman said as she lingered at the entrance of the coliseum.&nbsp; Curius could only snort and roll his eyes in a rather undignified manner as he thought of just what those matters could be.&nbsp; It was no surprise to the hawk-eyed man the amount of attention she had been paying to Faelen.&nbsp; Throughout all the matches her eyes had been trained on the lone gladiator and the sly smiles hadn’t escaped his notice.&nbsp; Curius had no fear that his daughter was actually enamored with the man.&nbsp; No, she probably didn’t care one bit for him but found intrigue in his position.&nbsp; He may have been but a lowly gladiator but his record spoke for itself and there were many in Rome who feared his strength.&nbsp; Probably just another conquest before she grew tired of him like all the others.&nbsp; As long as Faelen continued to win, Curius didn’t particularly care what his daughter did.&nbsp; It was simply far easier for him to allow her to do what she wished until she grew bored instead of fighting with her every step of the way.<br><br>Bidding goodbye to her sister and father, Silva made her way back to the arena which, by now, had partially cleared out.&nbsp; The people had come to see Faelen and now that he had finished his match the others simply weren’t as interesting.&nbsp; Yes, the other gladiators were brilliant fighters in their own right but there was a certain appeal in watching someone who had remained undefeated until now.&nbsp; You never knew when he would be bested and many would beam with pride in telling their companions that they saw the match that finally dethroned the unstoppable Brittain. <br><br>The guards exchanged hesitant glances as Silva approached seemingly paying them no mind.&nbsp; It was rare to have a lady of her status visit the inside of the coliseum with such frequency but it wasn’t as if they were in any position to stop her.&nbsp; To insult Senator Curius’ daughter was to put a price on one’s head and they’d all heard the rumors of how ruthless the family could be.&nbsp; When she asked them where Faelen was they directed her to the slave master and breathed a sigh of relief when she passed them not bothering to give them a second glance.&nbsp; <br><br>“Where is Faelen?”&nbsp; She asked stopping behind the slave master who was busy striking fear into the poor sap that crossed his path.&nbsp; With a growl, the man turned around ready to whip whoever thought it wise to interrupt him.&nbsp; In the blink of an eye that trembling anger turned to fear and surprise as he took a step back forgetting about his cowering victim.&nbsp; “He- he’s in the baths, my lady.”&nbsp; The slave master stuttered as he pointed towards the large iron doors which led to the baths.&nbsp; <br><br>“It would not be wise to disturb him.”&nbsp; The man tried to warn but his words fell on deaf ears as Silva made her way towards the baths.&nbsp; Their meeting earlier had obviously disturbed Faelen or at least annoyed him and she would not relent.&nbsp; A part of her enjoyed getting under the man’s skin and seeing him lose his cool.&nbsp; He always seemed to remain so calm, so focused in the arena that seeing another side of him was a rare treat.&nbsp; Besides, he’d been very inhospitable at their first meeting and it would only be fair to give him a chance to make a better impression.&nbsp; Yes, he would most likely be naked and seeking to enjoy a hot bath to sooth his tired muscles but people rarely got what they wanted and he would be no exception.&nbsp; Silva needed to see just how far she could push this man before proceeding.&nbsp; <br><br>As she opened the doors the steam hit her face making her take a deep breathe before quickly walking in and letting the doors shut behind her.&nbsp; It certainly was warm and she could smell a mix of oils in the air probably to help sooth and heal him.<br><br>“That was certainly quite a show.”&nbsp; She said as she approached him, a smirk ever present on her face.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>02-08-2012, 14:54:21</strong>
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				<br><br>Laying back in the water, Faelan closed his eyes, letting his body and mind rest in blissful silence. His arm throbbed where the trident had scored a line through his flesh, and his limbs ached from the intensity of the fight. Slowly though, the massage and oils were doing their job and he could feel his body relaxing as he floated in the water, the back of his neck resting on the side of the pool. <br><br>Since he'd started winning fight after fight his owner had afforded him some extra luxuries, such as extra time in the bath, more food and so on. Nothing considered above his station as slave really, but it did help make his life a little more tolerable compared to some of the other gladiators and slaves here. He and Bacchus had talked about the potential power hidden within the enslaved population, a population growing in number and discontent. Bacchus had told him of an ancient prophecy of a gladiator that would rise to prominence and take an army of slaves to march on Rome and take the power back from the decadent rulers. Faelan scoffed at such takes at first, thinking it just a tale but on reflection he had taken it more seriously given his desire for revenge on those who had enslaved him and murdered his village. <br><br>As far as he was aware the Centurion that had ordered the execution of his village was still at large, somewhere in the outer provinces of the Empire, and he, Faelan was stuck here in Rome. As he tried to clear his head of his frustration as not being able to fulfil his promise, his mind lingered on an almost forgotten memory of his past, one of the few happy ones. A girl he knew from his youth, young and blonde, her breasts just filling out as she grew into womanhood. Caitlyn was her name. His abiding memory of her was the smell of fresh flowers and morning dew on the grass as they woke together one morning shortly before his old life was taken from him. She had a light sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose and the palest blue eyes. He'd never seen anyone as beautiful. He lingered on that memory for a while.. <br>&nbsp;<br><em>“That was certainly quite a show.”</em>&nbsp;<br><br>He recognised her voice immediately, the tone a mix between disdain and amusement. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, forcing himself to conceal his frustration at being disturbed. <br><br>"Thank you." He managed to sound grateful, at least he thought he did. "He was quite a skilled opponent. Certainly more worthy of a place in the arena than the unfortunate soul this morning." He still remembered her comment from the morning about the criminals that received Roman justice. <br><br>He ducked under the water for a moment, more to maintain his composure in her presence than anything else. Turning underwater to face her he stood up sharply, water running from his head and broad shoulders as he made his way up the stone steps at the side of the pool. He towered over her slim form, wearing the purest of white togas, edged in red and gold. He idly wondered if she acknowledged the blood spilled in her family's name over the years. He looked at her bare calves and arms, noting their soft curves, the smooth olive skin, free from scars or blemishes. <br>He deliberately looked into her eyes for a long moment as he stood there&nbsp; naked the pair seeming to study each other, much like gladiators facing off across the arena floor. His well muscled body glistened from head to toe as droplets of water ran down his pecs and abdomen, gathering in the dark mass of hair between his legs. He realised he must have been more engrossed in his thoughts of Caitlyn than he remembered as his manhood was partly aroused. No matter, this woman would care less he thought to himself. She only wants to remind me of my worth to her house and of the fact I am theirs to keep. <br><br>He pointed over her shoulder to a table against the wall, a few meters behind her "Towel.. Please." He managed to remember to be courteous toward her. <br><br>She smiled slyly as she followed the direction of his finger, slowly walking over to the table and taking up the towel in her hands. She seemed to deep in thought for a moment as she held the towel in one hand, tantalisingly just out of his reach, forcing him to come to her if he wanted to take it. <br><br>He contemplated simply walking out of the bath chamber but thought better of it. He'd only catch a chill in the damp, cold caverns under the arena, or worse still the would demand something of him for his rudeness. shaking his head slightly he stepped forward hand outstretched to take the towel from her only to have her step back herself, a wicked look in her eyes barely concealed behind an innocent smile. She held out the towel again and after cursing himself inwardly for the ease at which she had manipulated him he took the towel from her with as much grace as he could muster.&nbsp; <br><br>Drying off his hair and torso first he turned from her to towel off his thighs and lower legs. "Did you find satisfaction in the spilling of blood this afternoon? I assume that is why you attend the games, is it not?"<br><br>"I am told I will be travelling north soon, your father has arranged a tour of the northern provinces I believe?" He kept his tone neutral, keeping his interest in the event from both his voice and his expression. Not wanting to see what the prospect of travel meant to him. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>04-08-2012, 02:53:30</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She moved slowly along the wet floor, her toga billowing behind her as she watched him sink into the water before standing up like a titan rising from the waves.&nbsp; Silva was sure plenty would have been intimidated seeing Faelen rise like a sea monster the water dripping off his body making his skin glisten in the faint light.&nbsp; She made no move to avert her eyes as he walked up the steps naked before her.<br><br>Her own eyes were quickly taking in the hard muscles formed from years of combat and the scars that marred his rough skin.&nbsp; If the smirk on her face was any indication, she’d also taken notice of his semi-aroused state.&nbsp; Finally, she raised her head enough to meet his eyes and never once did she look away.&nbsp; Silva never flinched or blinked instead looking positively amused as she watched him with the strangest spark of hunger lurking in those dark brown orbs.&nbsp; <br><br>When he asked for the towel she turned to see it resting on a table ready to dry him off.&nbsp; Slowly, she walked over and grabbed it before holding it out just a few inches from her body.&nbsp; “This?”&nbsp; Silva asked teasingly as she made him come forward to take it stepping back when he reached out.&nbsp; To her this all seemed to be a game though she did eventually relent and let him have his towel.&nbsp; <br><br>“Hmm?”&nbsp; His question seemed to pull her from her thoughts which seemed to be centered around the very naked gladiator before her.&nbsp; “I attend the games because I am invited.”&nbsp; She answered simply letting her eyes graze over his legs and naked back.&nbsp; “One can’t afford to turn the Governor down when he offers an invitation and my father has been most insistent that we make an appearance.”&nbsp; Probably to cement his own political power while showing off his daughters to any would-be suitors.&nbsp; Many of the most powerful men in Rome attended the games and Silva knew she’d caught the eye of quite a few.&nbsp; Perhaps the old man thought he could convince her to wed if he bothered her enough.<br><br>“I don’t particularly care one way or another about the bloodshed.&nbsp; That’s not what interests me.”&nbsp; Silva didn’t care about blood; she cared about power.&nbsp; Few fights actually managed to hold her interest but seeing the ferocity and dominance of these men that pitted themselves against each other in the arena was a show she was always eager to see.&nbsp; <br><br>Ah yes, she’d heard her father had arranged for Faelen to take a tour of the northern provinces.&nbsp; Apparently there had been a few issues with some of the other Senators and Governors and Senator Curius was eager to demonstrate the strength of his gladiator.&nbsp; Besides, there were quite a few creatures up there that would bring their family fame if Faelen managed to defeat them.&nbsp; <br><br>“That’s what I heard.&nbsp; Apparently they’re setting up a few special challenges just for you.&nbsp; Try not to die.”&nbsp; She was taunting him now.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>“So hostile, Faelen, and we’ve only just met.”&nbsp; Her tone was teasing, sultry as she stepped closer to him stopping mere inches away.&nbsp; The smirk on her face had grown as she ran a hand through her hair the silky brown locks spilling through her fingers like water.&nbsp; “Usually people know me for at least a week before they start hating me.”&nbsp; <br><br>The way she was looking at him was so different than the way one would view their slaves.&nbsp; It almost seemed like she viewed him as some sort of conquest, a creature to be tamed and broken.&nbsp; Faelen easily towered over her and he could have killed her quickly if he wanted to but they both knew he wouldn’t.&nbsp; She was safe in her station, in the power she held over him and this sense of safety led her to some very rash actions.&nbsp; <br><br>Humming to herself, Silva pressed her palm against his chest feeling the remaining moisture on his skin wet her hand.&nbsp; Her fingers traced along the contours of his muscled form feeling the scars beneath as her hand traveled down from his chest to his hardened stomach.&nbsp; When she looked up at him the hunger in her eyes seemed to have grown as she watched him like a terrible predator cornering a tiny animal.<br><br>“You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”&nbsp; She purred, her hot breath against his skin as she stepped closer until the soft fabric of her toga pressed against his naked chest.&nbsp; “My advice still stands and I’d urge you to remember it.&nbsp; After all, my family isn’t known for being particularly kind.”&nbsp; It was a warning, a message.&nbsp; She’d make him pay for their earlier meeting.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>06-08-2012, 13:45:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I have every intention of living." Faelan replied in a flat tone. "I hope for their sake, whatever they have planned didn't cost too much."<br><br>He stood impassive as she replied to his questions, taking a step closer to him, standing scant inches from his well muscled body. Combing her fingers through her hair was some kind of signal he was sure, he just didn't know what it was supposed to signify. He refrained from commenting on her statement, having taken on board some of her advice about holding his tongue. <br><br>She began to hum to herself as she stepped even closer, reaching out and placing the palm of her hand on his chest. He resisted the urge to move or to grab her wrist. Usually people had to ask permission to touch him, but then she was his owner's daughter so the same rules didn't apply. <br><br>Her hand felt warm against his skin as she rested it there a moment, her eyes roaming over his body. As she moved her fingers over the well defined muscles of his body he felt the warring emotions in his mind, on the one hand he hated what she represented - his owner, the Roman system in general, the spoilt little rich woman that takes what she pleases.. All the things he despised about this society he had been forced to be a part of. Faelan the gladiator, puppet for the masses. On the other hand, she was undeniably beautiful, in a totally different way to his young lover of old. Where she was pure and innocent, Silva quite obviously recognised what her beauty and family name could get her and had no qualms about using her feminine charms to get it. As her hand worked slowly down his body he tried to fight the obvious physical reaction to her touch. He was only partly successful. Her breath against his skin felt hot and the sensation of her toga against his naked skin took some effort to ignore. <br><br>"I had noticed my lady." Faelan replied. "How will you keep yourself entertained while I am gone?" He asked, wanting her to know that he would not be easily intimidated by her. After all her father would not let her interfere with his prize asset would he? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>09-08-2012, 01:01:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“I suppose I’ll just have to find something to amuse myself with.”&nbsp; She sighed, feigning boredom.&nbsp; Silva was actually going to be coming along on the tour acting as a sort of envoy for her family.&nbsp; Of course Senator Curius had been suspicious when his daughter voiced her desires to tag along but she had made a compelling case and he had no desire to listen to her whine for the next month and half about not being allowed to go.&nbsp; Besides, he still held out some hope that she would find a suitable partner up in the northern territories and perhaps if she were away from Rome it would help curtail her growing wild streak.&nbsp; The silly man had his silly dreams but he would hold on to them tight.&nbsp; <br><br>Silva had debated telling Faelen simply to watch the surprise and shock on his face but she thought better of it.&nbsp; Why ruin the surprise so early?&nbsp; That same shock would be there whether it was in the baths or up in the north during the tour.&nbsp; Besides, this would give her a chance to have fun without being under the constant watch of her father and family.&nbsp; The northern territories were certainly looking forward to the tour and from what she’d heard they’d planned quite a few feasts and parties.<br><br>“Well, I guess you’ll be needing your rest and I have far more important things to be doing with my time.”&nbsp; Just like that she turned on her heels and walked away from him as if his presence no longer amused her.&nbsp; No need to let the slave get a big head, after all.<br><br>The doors opened and shut once more as she left him alone in the bath ready to continue with her day.&nbsp; Silva had seen what she needed to see and her interactions with Faelen had been telling indeed.&nbsp; The man didn’t have a stranglehold on his emotions like a practiced diplomat and his attitude would lead him to trouble.&nbsp; <br><br>For all his hatred of her family even Silva could see he had to fight to ignore his arousal at her touch.&nbsp; Slave, Senator or Emperor the men were all the same.&nbsp; Now Silva would simply have to find a way to exploit what she had learned and turn the man from a proud gladiator into nothing more than a simple lap dog.&nbsp; Even the guards noticed the peculiar smile on the woman’s face though they wisely chose to keep their mouths shut as they stood at attention watching her leave the coliseum looking very much like a proud victor.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>13-08-2012, 13:27:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Or someone, more like.</em> Well, if it keeps you away from me then I don't care. Thank the Gods I'll have some peace while I'm away Faelan thought to himself with more than a little relief. The prospect of enduring more visits from Silva had him more worried than any opponent he'd faced in any arena. There was something sly and predatory about the woman he did not like at all, as if she was weighing up how to eat him or which body part to take first. <br><br>She took her hand from his abdomen - so small and delicate when Faelan glanced at it pressed to his broad, muscular frame - and with a few dismissive words she turned and was gone without a second glance. He watched her go, glad of the quiet and privacy once more. Though he had to admit, he missed the gently touch of her hand against his skin. His body was hard and ugly when compared to hers, though he was beginning to think white wasn't necessarily the most appropriate colour for this strong willed, almost predatory young noblewoman. <br><br>The door shut behind her and Faelan let out a long breath, towelling down his body, staying clear of the heat between his legs. The woman may have been arrogant&nbsp; but it didn't stop her being attractive, nor her touch arousing. He shook his head, a little frustrated at his lack of control. Taking up his loincloth he called for the guards to take him back to his cell.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>Later that evening he and Bacchus discussed his impending departure and the possibility of building support for a gladiator uprising in the northern provinces as the tour travelled through Raetia, Belgica and on to the frontier with the barbarian tribes.<br><br>"You must be careful lad, out in the provinces there are more dangers than just the foe that faces you across the arena floor. Politics still lurks in every corner of the Empire. Petty governors are at each others throats, they could see you as a target in some scheme to prove themselves against House Curius. You wouldn't have been the first touring gladiator to have been poisoned or killed in his bed by some murderous whore." Bacchus' voice drifted softly through the gap in their cell wall. <br><br>"There are allies out there though, don't you doubt it. Plenty slaves and gladiators look to you already as a hero. And a few Legionnaires I'd wager. All is not rosy in the Emperor's garden. All it would take is a show of strength - at the right time of course - a well placed show of solidarity too... Nothing works better than showing those you intend to lead that you understand their position and share it." The old man coughed long and hard, his breath coming in a wheeze after. Faelan was concerned, the last few times they had spoken he was sure it was getting worse. The cold, damp cell was no place for an old man, whatever his crime. He thought back to Silva's words. Would he have slain Bacchus as he had done the young lad in the arena earlier that day? After all, for all he knew their crimes could have been the same. Would it have made a difference to him if Bacchus had been a murderer? He cleared his head of such thoughts.<br><br>"She spoke of 'special fights', arranged especially for me, I wonder what she meant by that?" Faelan mused aloud. <br><br>"There are tales of half-men and strange twisted creatures that roam the wilds to the north of the civilised lands of the Roman Empire, ogres and trolls and worse. Maybe some of the provinces intend you fight creatures they have captured? Maybe she was just trying to unnerve you, from what you say she seems like the type. I've heard tales of Curius' daughter, not pleasant ones either. She is a viper Faelan, watch yourself when she is around." Bacchus sounded serious, it was not often he made those statements about women, he seemed to fear few women, and those he did it appeared he had good reason to do so.&nbsp; Faelan would be glad of the time away from Rome and this woman. <br><br>They ended the night with one of Bacchus' frequent cautionary tales about a famed gladiator of old, who while he could not be defeated in the arena, was undone by his love for fine wine and fine women. While he basked in the glory of his latest victory he was gifted a beautiful whore for the night. Unbeknown to him and his master, the whore was in fact a hedge witch hired by a rival senator to put a spell on the gladiator, making him weak and fearful of his next opponent. The following day he fell to his knees and wept as his foe entered the arena.. Needless to say the fight was neither long nor entertaining for the crowd. His master had him put to death for his cowardice and the senator himself gained the unwanted reputation of putting on a poor show for his people. <br><br>A cautionary tale indeed, Faelan thought.. Or could such a situation be used to unsettle his own master and his seat of power? Though he'd rather not sacrifice his life for such a thing, maybe he could somehow engineer a popular uprising in the north to further his ambitions when he returned to Rome? Something to think on at least.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>He slept, pondering the days events and awoke rested and ready for the long and most likely uncomfortable journey ahead. The guards came and took him from the arena along with several other gladiators. He nodded respectfully to them as they waited in one of the torchlit corridors of the arena, noting that some of the others seemed to be from Governor Tireus' stable. Had Bacchus known? Was that why he spoke of being careful while he was on tour and guarding against enemies? He resolved to be vigilant against all people, those both foe and friend. <br><br>They were chained together by the ankle - Faelan took some small comfort in the uncertainty in the eyes of the guard that knelt before him while putting on his manacles - and led out of the arena to a waiting convoy of horse drawn wagons. Each wagon had a cage on the back and a dozen or so slaves were packed in to each cage, for the journey at least Faelan was awarded no comforts despite his fame in the arena and he was soon sat in the cramped cage of one of the wagons, seven other gladiators hunched close together with him. A horn sounded and they were ready to go. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>16-08-2012, 09:31:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The carriage arrived early in the morning ready to greet Silva and the bags that had been packed for her.&nbsp; The young woman had headed home after her visit to the baths wanting to look over all her bags and make sure everything she needed would be packed.&nbsp; The slaves always seemed to forget something and it hardly helped having her mother fretting about asking if she’d packed enough clothing or if she needed a meal for the road.&nbsp; Silva could only roll her eyes but wisely chose to remain silent as Aella hurried the slaves to make sure and pack an extra cloak as the northern provinces were known to be quite a bit colder than Rome.<br><br>This tour was a blessing for the woman who had long since grown tired of being under her father’s watchful eye.&nbsp; Curius was hardly the fool and it had taken quite a bit of begging and planning on her part to get the man to agree to let her go.&nbsp; It was only when she’d consented to acting as a diplomat for the family and attending a few meetings that the man had finally relented.&nbsp; Now that everything was being loaded on to the carriage Silva could hardly contain her excitement as she bid goodbye to her parents and gave Melita a quick hug promising she’d bring back something for her sister.<br><br>The trip itself would be long as their first stop would be in Raetia where Governor Ennius would be waiting to host them.&nbsp; The Governor had made a great show of telling all who would listen just what a feast he had prepared in celebration for the tour.&nbsp; Silva had learned quickly that to these men, appearance was everything.&nbsp; They would load their guests with rich food and free flowing wine until the feast inevitably dissolved into a decadent fare of debauchery and excess.&nbsp; She knew of more than one feast that had turned into a full-blown orgy as hot, naked bodies writhed together panting in lust.&nbsp; Actually, she was quite looking forward to the inevitable trouble they would all get into.&nbsp; &nbsp;The gladiators themselves would no doubt be passed around for everyone to gawk at and Faelen would be the center of attention.&nbsp; After all, he had become a legend in more than just the arenas of Rome.&nbsp; From what she’d heard, Ennius had sent his men to capture all manners of beasts to pit against the famed gladiator.&nbsp; It would be the most interesting show to see if Faelen’s skills could compete with fearsome creatures.&nbsp; <br><br>“Ready, miss?”&nbsp; The driver asked looking back towards her.&nbsp; Silva gave a quick nod and they were off, her family becoming nothing more than little dark flecks in the distance as the horse hooves beat down on the roads carrying them out of Rome.&nbsp; It would be a long journey but she would make it in the luxury of her own carriage meeting with the rest of the higher class that would be joining the tour.&nbsp; <br><br>Sighing, Silva rested against the plush interior of the carriage and brushed her hand over the rich, garnet fabric of her tunic.&nbsp; Her hair was down in soft waves with fine strands of gold thread woven through chestnut locks.&nbsp; This would have almost seemed a step down from the white toga she had worn to the coliseum but anyone with money would have known the cost of a dye to attain such a rich color and the quality of the fabric.&nbsp; It didn’t hurt that her arms were decorated with golden bracelets and a single ruby was clasped around her neck with a gold chain.&nbsp; Her family was known for their wealth and power so when traveling to another province it was important to allow ones appearance to speak for itself.&nbsp; In this kind of political battlefield, appearances were everything.&nbsp; <br><br>Soon enough the calming rhythm of the carriage had caused Silva to nod off to sleep with only the soft rise and fall of her chest any indication that she was still breathing.&nbsp; It would take a couple of days to reach Raetia and she planned on sleeping through as much of it as possible.&nbsp; <br><br>Still, she was curious to see Faelen’s reaction to her presence on the tour.&nbsp; Now that they were away from the watchful eyes of her father she had the freedom to do as she pleased and all her attention seemed to be focused on that lone gladiator.&nbsp; He was proud and feared but Silva knew that eventually she would break him the same as anyone else.&nbsp; She’d have him at her feet, at her mercy pulling out all those desires he kept hidden from sight.&nbsp; Those desires he didn’t even know about but that she would bring to light.<br><br>The carriage continued on its trip and the woman inside smiled contently in her sleep dreaming of terrifying gladiators brought to their knees.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>21-08-2012, 16:34:27</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The wagon train rolled out of Rome, a fanfare and honour guard taking it to the city walls, all gleaming silver and gold, flags flying and trumpets blaring to announce their departure. Senator Curius certainly knew how to put on a public show and the simple act of having a few wagon loads of gladiators leave the city was no exception. Faelan thought to himself, the man probably has a fanfare for relieving himself at the latrine. He smiled wryly to himself before he made a subtle study of the men in the caged wagon with him. Two of them he knew, Lucius and Gratus both from his stable, under the firm tutelage of Slave Master Caledor, dependable fighters - nothing too showy, but tough and skillful. Three others he had seen in passing under the arena but he'd never seen fight, again from his own House. The other he'd never seen before, but from the way the man looked at him he could tell he knew who Faelan was - and by the look of him he was not enamoured with him. Bacchus' comments last night comeing back to him, he decided he would have to keep an eye on this man. <br><br>As the morning passed, the blazing sun creeping higher into the cloudless sky the wagon train passed through the city and outlying farms, people coming to the roadside to watch them roll by. Some - mostly children - waved and ran along side the gladiator's wagons, waving and smiling, no doubt impressed by the sight of the fearsome men that fought in the arenas. Others simply stared across from the buildings they worked on or the field they tilled and silently watched them pass. Faelan was surprised when one old woman came up to the wagon he was in and spat at the gladiators inside, cursing them in a language he did not comprehend for what they did. Shortly afterwards he learned from one of the others, a lean Gaul named Lauwine, that the woman had lost someone dear to her in the arena, having been taken to Rome against her will. <br><br>Faelan nodded in reply, knowing all too well the feeling of being out of place here. The wagons trundled on under the relentless sun for several uneventful hours before stopping by a slow moving river. The sweating horses were led to the waters edge to drink while bread and water was taken to the gladiators - a more nutritious evening meal was promised - and they were similarly allowed to drink until their thirst was quenched.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>He saw for the first time the gleaming carriage at the head of the caravan, a half dozen private bodyguards riding close by, shields and breastplates bearing the personal heraldry of House Curius. The curtained windows gave no clue as to the occupants, only that they were a member of the family of the gladiator's owner. It was unlikely the senator himself would travel and Faelan had not heard from Bacchus as to who would be representing him during the tour. It was unlikely to have any effect on Faelan anyway and he quickly dismissed any question of their identity, glad to be away from the machinations of that family and the circles they walked in.<br>&nbsp;<br>The heat was oppressive and everyone, Faelan included, felt its effects. The water had helped but despite his earlier assertion he would remain awake and vigilant the heat and boredom had him slipping into a light sleep by mid afternoon. He dreamt of his lost love, rolling in the long grass with her, their bodies entwined, her scent filling his nostrils, her blonde hair tickling his neck as she leaned over him. In his dream he closed his eyes, slowly opening them as he felt her shift astride him. He looked up to find her hair auburn, her skin tanned rather than pale.. Her hands went from his broad chest to his neck. Silva? That damn woman, stealing into his dreams. He weakly swatted at her hands. It took him a second to realise the pressure around his throat had not eased, then his eyes snapped open and the dream became harsh reality once again.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>The rest of the wagon slept on as someone sat close behind him using the chain between their manacles to strangle him. The outsider, Faelan immediately realised. He felt his knee against the small of his back as the man tried to twist the chain around his throat. Faelan's first instinct was to claw at the chain as it bit into the flesh of his neck, but quickly he realised that was ineffectual and only wasted the precious air he was able to drag into his lungs as the man pulled with all his might against Faelan's neck. <br><br>Planting his feet on the floor of the wagon Faelan tried to elbow the man as he continued to throttle him with the chain. The confines of the cage restricted his movement somewhat and he absently wondered if anyone else could see what was happening. He was sure the slave master would be enraged if he knew what was taking place, Faelan was his personal responsibility and his own passage to glory. He let out a strangled shout of satisfaction as he felt an elbow connect with his assailant's ribs and the pressure on his throat eased for a second. <br><br>Hopefully a second is all I need, Faelan thought to himself as he tried to twist around to get a better position against his attacker. Once again the closeness of the cage made things difficult and the other man moved with Faelan to keep himself behind and out of reach. His movements only served to give his assailant the opportunity to put his body on top of Faelan and tighten his grip around his neck. Blackness closed in around the edge of his vision and his head swam as he gasped for air, his chest heaving, limbs thrashing with anger and fear - to die like this, like an animal in a cage, life wasted, promises unfulfilled, Faelan for once felt helpless and angry with himself for falling asleep. Suddenly the man astride his back cried out and his body fell limply on top of Faelan, the pressure against his throat easing instantly. <br><br>"Britain, are you still with us?" Came the thickly accented voice of Lauwine the Gaul. The unconscious body was pushed off him and Faelan turned to face his saviour. The others in the wagon stirred from their slumber as Lauwine held out his hand to help Faelan to sit up. Gingerly feeling his tender Faelan nodded, his breath rasping through his tender windpipe. "Aye, thanks to you. I am in your debt, on my honour I shall give my life for yours." He clasped the man's forearm in his hand, swearing an unbreakable oath to protect this man for his deed. <br><br>"What do you want to do with him?" Lauwine asked, nodding in the direction of the comatose man. "By rights you should have the honour of ending him."<br><br>The others in the cage murmured their agreement, but Faelan had another idea. "No. That is not my way, call the Slave Master over, there is another way I will settle this."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>24-08-2012, 05:34:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The noise from outside the carriage jostled her awake as Silva wearily opened her eyes trying to fight the lingering slumber that clung to her like a heavy cloak.&nbsp; There was a tingling sensation in her right hand which she had been leaning against as she slept and which no doubt was in need of better blood flow.&nbsp; Yawning, the woman blinked slowly trying to make sense of the voices that were speaking excitedly.<br><br>“What is going on?”&nbsp; She asked the driver.&nbsp; It didn’t sound as if they were under attack and the guards surrounding them seemed almost pleased at whatever was happening.&nbsp; It was still far too early to have reached their destination though Silva had been sleeping so long she couldn’t have told you just where in the Empire they were.&nbsp; The comforting strides of the horses had lulled the woman asleep with remarkable ease and she had been having the most pleasant dream though now she remembered only fragments.<br><br>“There was a problem with the gladiators, Miss.”&nbsp; The driver, a slave who had worked for her family for many years, explained looking over his shoulder towards the commotion.&nbsp; Immediately those full pink lips fell to a frown wondering what could have happened; her mind immediately going to Faelen.&nbsp; Her father had warned her of the dangers they would face on the tour and the precautions they would have to take.&nbsp; Her family name gave her some degree of safety but the same could not be said for the gladiators.&nbsp; After all, stories of Faelen’s conquests had gone to the far reaches of the Empire and there were many who would revel at the chance to kill the unbeatable warrior.<br><br>Grumbling to herself she opened the door and stepped out of the carriage despite the protests of the driver.&nbsp; Her expensive leather sandals slapped against the dirt rode as she walked over to the nearest guard demanding to know just what the hell was going on.&nbsp; Silva did not like being interrupted but she hated being kept in the dark when something was obviously amiss.<br><br>“There was an incident with the gladiators.”&nbsp; The young guard explained as he slid off his horse and walked by her side towards the wagon carrying the fighters.&nbsp; “One of them attacked the other in his sleep and tried to kill him.&nbsp; I think it was Faelen that was attacked though I don’t know who would be foolish enough to attempt something like that.”&nbsp; <br><br>Silva gave the young man a curt nod as she stomped over to the wagon where the Slave Master was already standing trying to sort everything out.&nbsp; It didn’t seem as if anyone had died though she certainly hoped Faelen hadn’t been too terribly hurt.&nbsp; Not for any real compassion towards the man but simply out of frustration of what she would do to amuse herself if he had been hurt and was unable to perform.&nbsp; The entire tour would be a waste of time if she couldn’t have her fun.&nbsp; <br><br>“Well, what the hell do you want to do with him?”&nbsp; The slave master bellowed as he prodded the fallen man.&nbsp; It would be easy enough to just kill him and toss his body on the side of the road to feed the crows.&nbsp; Besides, he was angry that someone had tried to harm their star attraction before the tournament had even begun.&nbsp; Master Curius would have been angry if Faelen died under such circumstances.&nbsp; The gladiator was worth his weight in gold to the family and the Senator wished to hold on to him as long as possible.<br><br>While the happened, Silva had stepped up behind the slave master peeking in curiously wondering just what was going to happen next.&nbsp; She had been hoping to surprise Faelen with her presence later but she couldn’t pass up such an opportunity. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>31-08-2012, 08:31:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Slave Master dragged Faelan and all of the other slaves out of the caged wagon, encouraging them with the occasional lash from his barbed whip. <br><br>"What do you intend Faelan?" Lauwine asked. "You're not going to give him the honour of fighting you?" The man looked at Faelan as if he'd gone mad. The man had just tried to strangle him in his sleep, as far as Lauwine was concerned he should be shown no mercy, no second chance to finish the job. <br><br>Faelan felt the angry red,&nbsp; tender skin of his throat, smiling at the Gaul. "My friend, that is exactly what I am going to do. If he thinks he can defeat me, he can do it properly like any other gladiator has tried - and failed to do."<br><br>The Slave Master looked less than pleased, but knew Faelan would not be dissuaded, the look on his face told him that much. "Very well, but if you think I'm going to break out the arms and armour for this you're mistaken. You can fight each other as you stand." He looked over to the other slaves as they held Faelan's attacker. "Know this slave, you're as good as dead now that Faelan stands before you in a fair fight, but I'd have killed you myself had he not interceded. Be thankful he showed you more respect than you truly deserve." <br><br>"Fair enough." Commented Faelan, walking a few paces away from the stationary wagon, looking his would-be assassin in the eye. "I am ready for him now."<br><br>The others push the man toward Faelan and he rather reluctantly faces off against the gladiator he would have murdered as he slept. The two regarded each other for a moment as the slaves and guards formed a loose ring around the pair, with the Slave Master standing back, a mix of anticipation and worry on his face. <br><br>For a brief moment it looked as if Faelan's opponent was going to make a run for it, his face a mask of desperation, but instead he ran at the undefeated gladiator swinging punches at him wildly, shouting and screaming.&nbsp; <br>Faelan stood his ground as the man came at him, blocking most of his frenzied attacks easily. One or two got through his guard, but glanced of the side of his head or landed on his shoulder. He landed his own measured punch with his right fist that hammered into the man's stomach, winding him and sending him to his knees. He swiftly followed up with a knee to the face that had blood flowing and the man on his back. Faelan knelt over him and was about to pummel his opponent senseless when he heard a familiar voice. Turning toward the sound his heart stopped for a second as he saw Curius' daughter talking with the slave master. Surely not?! Why would he send her of all people out here. A woman, a young woman at that. She couldn't possibly... <br><br>A sharp pain in the side of his head broke his train of thought and pushed all consideration as to Silva's presence her from his mind. He rolled off the man and brought a hand to the side of his face, smiling calmly as he saw blood drip from his fingers. The man had staggered to his feet and regarded him warily, a fist sized stone in one hand. Faelan sprang for him in the same way the would be killer had started the fight but Faelan's blows were much more measured and effective, smashing through the feeble attempts to block his punches. Within seconds the man was on the ground, his nose broken again, lips split and bleeding. Faelan did not stop there and continued to pummel the senseless form of the man until he was sure the life had fled from his eyes. <br><br>He stood, his jaw set like stone, his eyes shining with blood lust before turning to the other slaves and by default Silva. "There, let that be a warning to you all. This is what happens to those who don't finish the job first time around."&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>09-09-2012, 19:39:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Silva watched the fight from the gathering crowd.&nbsp; Her eyes were lit with excitement as she stepped closer wanting to get the best view of what was going to happen.&nbsp; The other man looked as if he was going to piss himself though she was sure many of Faelan’s opponents shared that same look as they prepared themselves for battle.&nbsp; This certainly wasn’t the type of entertainment she had been expecting but she couldn’t turn away now.&nbsp; Always she’d had to watch the fights from the honored seats at the coliseum but now she was mere feet away from the men as they swung at each other aiming to kill.&nbsp; This was a power she craved.&nbsp; A show of force that made her breath quicken in her chest.<br><br>A few in the crowd gasped softly as Faelan was struck and the blood of the two men soaked the dirt path.&nbsp; The opponent was reckless, his attacks having no control or precision.&nbsp; The man was flailing simply trying to land some kind of punch making all those attacks weak and ineffective.&nbsp; Silva knew what was coming as did everything else.&nbsp; Faelan had precision and control on his side.&nbsp; He may not have landed as many punches but those had had were effective and sent his attacker reeling to the ground unable to protect himself from the flurry of fists that stole away his dying breath.&nbsp; It was over and a silence hung in the air as they watched him pace like a predator basking in the glory of his victory.&nbsp; If any more treacherous snakes had been lurking in the crowd they had been well warned what would happen if they failed their attempts on his life.<br><br>“Everyone get back in your cage.”&nbsp; The slave master bellowed as he ordered the guards to start rounding up the slaves once more.&nbsp; The show had been fine while it lasted but they still had quite a ways to go and he couldn’t have the gladiators standing around.&nbsp; These men were all trained killers and the only way to keep any control of them was to maintain a harsh discipline.&nbsp; <br><br>“Faelan will ride with me.”&nbsp; Silva’s cool voice broke through the clang of the guard’s armor as they ushered the slaves back into the caged wagon.&nbsp; <br><br>The slave master could only stare at her incredulously as he parted his dried lips and uttered a stuttering protest.&nbsp; It simply wouldn’t do to have the Senator’s daughter share her carriage with a lowly slave.&nbsp; Her father would have his head if he allowed it but he couldn’t very well deny her request.&nbsp; Silva acted as Senator Curius ambassador and when he wasn’t here her word was law.&nbsp; Besides, he knew better than to simply deny her any request.&nbsp; The woman had the tongue of a rattlesnake and she seemed to have no qualms in destroying the lives of those who displeased her.&nbsp; None in the family took well to their orders being defied and he could hardly afford to have her angry with him the remainder of the tour.&nbsp; The Curius family had always been a fairly vengeful group.&nbsp; <br><br>“Surely you can’t be serious.&nbsp; What would your father think of you allowing one of his slaves in your carriage?”&nbsp; The man protested trying to make her see the error of her words.<br><br>“Probably better than you almost having his prized gladiator killed.”&nbsp; She snapped back, her voice cold as ice as she gave the man a harsh glare.&nbsp; The slave master seemed to recoil from the venom in her words as he looked to the guards for some reassurance only to find none.&nbsp; Silva’s word was law to them and they would not defy her wishes.&nbsp; <br><br>“This tour is very important to my father and we cannot risk Faelan being attacked and killed this time.&nbsp; We need him alive if we wish to give the people a good show.”&nbsp; That was the end of it.&nbsp; There would be no discussion and no swaying her mind.<br><br>“Come.”&nbsp; She ordered to the blood stained gladiator before turning her back to him and walking towards her own carriage ready to get back on the road and avoid any further interruptions.&nbsp; She had grown bored simply sleeping in her carriage and this would afford her an opportunity to get closer to the man.&nbsp; Probably far closer than anything he would have liked.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>10-09-2012, 13:51:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was still standing over the body of the nameless man who had tried and failed to end his life. Barely half a day's ride out of Rome and some cowardly slave had already tried to murder him in his sleep. Bacchus was right, he would have to sleep with one eye open. Now he found out that Silva was with the party he would have to be extra wary; he didn't need the wise old man's words of insight to tell him that. <br><br>The slave master's harsh shouts and the guards rough shoves had everyone heading back to the wagon until Silva's voice cut through the din. The slave master wasn't the only one who turned to stare at the young noblewoman, Faelan could barely believe what he was hearing. Why on earth would she want him in her carriage? Nothing pleasant for him came to mind. He was dusty, bleeding and in her own words a simple slave. This journey was not going well so far and spending the rest of the trip in her carriage would hardly improve things for him, this much he knew.<br><br>He prayed she would see the sense of the slave master's words, but as seemed to be the way with this woman she had an answer for everything. The look on the man's face would have been much more entertaining had Faelan not felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. <br><br>He looked at her warily as she ordered him back to her pristine looking carriage, but she simply turned on her heel and walked back up the dirt road. Not wanting to look like a half-wit he started after her and caught up to her as she reached the richly appointed coach. Thinking back to their previous meetings he remembered his manners and held out his hand, offering to help her inside.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>11-09-2012, 00:06:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She took his hand with a small smirk and got in the carriage before sliding over on the seat to allow him room to sit.&nbsp; Her carriage was certainly leagues above the caged wagon he had been carted in but she doubted he would see this as a blessing.&nbsp; Faelan neither liked nor trusted her and with good reason.&nbsp; Most of the noble men she met were too awestruck by her beauty and family name to realize the danger they took simply by speaking with her.<br><br>Perhaps that was why Faelan had garnered her attention.&nbsp; She had grown so bored of the nobles with their pompous attitudes and frivolous desires.&nbsp; She craved true power, which she saw only when these trained fighters circled each other in the arena preparing to fight to the death.&nbsp; The need to possess and to dominate consumed her thoughts as she rested her elbow against the window and watched him silently.<br><br>The driver gave the call and soon they were off once more heading towards Raetia and the first leg of their tour.&nbsp; Silva kept quiet for a good ten minutes switching between watching Faelan and gazing out her window at the passing landscape.&nbsp; She could still hear the calls of the guards as they directed the carriage and gave instruction.&nbsp; It was a pleasant enough ride though she had other things on her mind than simply enjoying the scenery.&nbsp; <br><br>Giving a sigh, she reached under one of the seats and pulled out a square piece of cloth before throwing it at the man.&nbsp; “Here, clean yourself up before you stain the silks with your blood.”&nbsp; She said in an almost bored tone though there was some predatory spark in her eyes.<br><br>“It’s quite a chore having to leave the comforts of home for this tour but how else would I keep myself entertained with you gone?”&nbsp; She flashed him another smirk letting her fingers brush idly against his arm.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>11-09-2012, 13:45:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Faelan climbed aboard the carriage after she had seated herself, warily sitting on the white cushions beside her trying to keep a respectful distance. <br><br>He felt ill at ease with Silva, more because of the arrogant, superior, almost predatory attitude she carried as if she knew something that he didn't, something she knew he wasn't going to like. He wasn't sure if she was like this with everyone or if she was singling him out - certainly he'd never been asked to sit with her father, nor had any of the other gladiators. That sort of gossip would have been mana from heaven to Bacchus. <br><br>She sat by the window, her chin cupped in her hand as she rested a slender elbow against the window frame. The way she sat and watched him out of the corner of her eye was unsettling to him. He'd had many female admirers in his time but none like Silva, the others usually told him bluntly what they wanted and he grudgingly gave it to them. Not that he didn't get <em>any</em> pleasure from it himself, he simply resented the control they had over him. <br><br>A long time stretched by, uncomfortably so, but he knew from their previous encounters he may come to regret it should he speak out of turn. He looked down at the worn and dust covered sandals covering his feet for a moment before turning to her as she sighed, her slim, tanned arm outstretched a small cotton cloth held in her delicate fingers. He picked it from his lap after she tossed it idly at him. <br><br>"Of course my lady, I wouldn't want to sully your pristine carriage." He replied, his voice carefully neutral. He began rubbing at the gash on the side of his head, moving on to the blood stains he could see on the side of his neck and down his rough vest as she watched with interest. <br><br>"I would have thought there would be many in Rome willing to make your life more entertaining." His tone was less neutral now, though he was smart enough not to sound too sarcastic. Her fingers brushed gently against his arm as they sat side by side on the well padded seat. He resisted the initial urge to pull away, knowing it would displease her.<br><br>&nbsp;"Surely you haven't come out here simply to have me amuse you?" He prayed she had some other reason, but inwardly he winced in anticipation of the answer.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>12-09-2012, 06:50:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She smiled at his words knowing it must have taken quite a bit of restraint for him to keep from rolling his eyes.&nbsp; Faelan had certainly learned from their first meeting and new when to hold his tongue when it suited him.&nbsp; “I’m sure there are many but I have no interest in them.&nbsp; After a while, they all start looking the same.”<br><br>It was a simple enough answer though it certainly shed some light on her opinion of the citizens of Rome.&nbsp; Eventually they all started blending together with their petty talks and shallow joys.&nbsp; Silva may not have been the pinnacle of wisdom as far as the arts or philosophy were concerned but she had long since grown tired of feigning content and idle gossip.&nbsp; Eventually it all started to blend together and it was all she could do from screaming out in frustration and banging her head against the nearest door.&nbsp; This tour was a chance for her to get away from it all and out from under her father’s watchful eye.<br><br>“Well, I do have family business to attend to.&nbsp; My father has contacts in these regions and he feels it is important we show a familiar face.”&nbsp; Or simply make sure that the governors knew they hadn’t escaped the Senator’s gaze.&nbsp; Senator Curius seemed to take as much pleasure in taunting his prey as his daughter did.<br><br>“Besides, I needed a change of scenery and I was so sad to have our previous meetings cut short.&nbsp; Honestly, I was beginning to think you didn’t like me and that pained me so.”&nbsp; She sounded almost hurt as she pressed her lips together in a wounded pout still letting her fingers run up and down his arm.&nbsp; Silva knew very well just what his feelings towards her were but she enjoyed taunting him.<br><br>In less than a second the pout disappeared only to be replaced by the smirk that never seemed to leave her delicate features for very long.&nbsp; The game had been fun but she was ready to move on to something more interesting.&nbsp; <br><br>“As much as I enjoy torment you, and believe me when I say I adore it, I’m not the most patient person in the Empire.”&nbsp; As she spoke she slid her body closer to his pressing him against the side of the carriage.&nbsp; “I’ve grown very bored with my life in Rome and somehow you’ve managed to capture my attention.&nbsp; Just know that I have every intention of using you in any way possible to keep me amused.”&nbsp; And for once she truly smiled at him though it was the smile a child would give to a new puppy.<br><br>Faelan was a gladiator, a slave, and as long as he fought under the Senator’s banner she owned him.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>13-09-2012, 13:07:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				So she was a bored senator's daughter, jaded by what she'd seen and done in Rome? He was liking this situation less and less. Rome could offer someone virtually every pleasure if they knew who to ask, the fact that she was tired of the place meant either she didn't know where to look or she had exhausted all of those avenues already. Or maybe she was too closely watched, Faelan suddenly thought with a leap of insight that almost made him smile. <br><br>"A familiar face is always welcome I'm sure, out in the provinces especially." Especially this one Faelan thought to himself. As much as he disliked the girl, he had to admit for a Roman she was pretty. <br><br>"Hmmm, I have no idea where you get that idea from my lady, I hope I have always been respectful of your status." Faelan let the well practised words flow from his tongue even though the lie was hard to swallow. In truth he despised the fact he was a possession of her family and nothing more than that. To the rich and powerful of Rome and its vast empire, slaves were a commodity only valued for as long as they were useful. Gladiators were only useful as long as they kept the masses entertained. He would have to entertain Silva and her father's subjects on this tour no doubt, he only hoped that would be confined to the arena. <br><br>Looking at her pout and the sly smile on her face he had a feeling, a very bad feeling, that this would not be the case. The way her hand danced along his arm was all too telling. Her next statement chilled his blood. Not since he was taken kicking and screaming by that bastard centurion had he felt such dread. She adored tormenting him? That much was clear but he had hoped it would be a fleeting fancy of hers. When she slid over and pressed against him he didn't know what to do besides try and move as far away as possible, but other than by jumping from the moving carriage he had no way of avoiding her warm, lithe body as it pressed against his larger, more muscular one. Despite their disparity of size she was the predator in the close confines of the coach. Her pristine clothing contrasting sharply with his rags only emphasised their differing roles. <br><br>Why did he have to have garnered her interest? Would he have been better off lying dead on the arena floor? Something in the back of his mind told him maybe that would have been an easier option. Yes, she was going to use him as a plaything until she got bored and threw him away - like many others he guessed. What could he do or say? He would be killed if he displeased his master - her father, so he could do very little except agree and hope she got bored soon. Either that or maybe she would have an accident? No, that would be foolish, all of the slaves would suffer if anything happened to her and he had things to accomplish here too. All he could do was what was asked of him and pray she got bored often enough for him to build support for a slave revolt.<br><br>"Yes my lady." He said flatly, his eyes dull and his face showing little emotion. "What would you have me do to amuse you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>16-09-2012, 00:03:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a Gladiator he certainly knew when to act the part of a humble slave.&nbsp; Silva knew the anger that must have burned within him at the thought of her family.&nbsp; After all, she had never known a slave who served willingly.&nbsp; They were all prisoners of war taken from their own homes by the invading Roman forces.&nbsp; They were ripped from their families and homes forced to bow their heads and serve the very people who had captured them.&nbsp; When she was younger, Silva had felt pity for the slaves that served their family and kept their house.&nbsp; The feeling hadn’t lasted very long.&nbsp; Her father had made sure she knew such ideas only led to weakness and that no weakness would be tolerated in their family.&nbsp; It had been a hard lesson to learn and one her sister would learn as well if she didn’t change.<br><br>She could see his thought process written on his face as he weighed the consequences of his actions.&nbsp; Faelan was a proud man and a gifted warrior and yet he’d have to submit to a woman half his size with none of his strength.&nbsp; To refuse her would be to resign himself over to a fate worse than death.&nbsp; Silva may not have been able to order him killed but she could make his life and the life of his companions very unpleasant.&nbsp; There really was no option if he had any hope of making it through this tour in one piece.&nbsp; Besides, now that she was out from her father’s watchful eyes she could finally taste the freedom she had yearned for.<br><br>“What would I have you do?”&nbsp; She parroted, her body pressed next to his as she continued to let her hands run up and down his exposed skin.&nbsp; Gentle fingers free of any calluses ran up his chest tracing his collarbone before finally gripping on to his chin and forcing him to look down at her.&nbsp; Their faces were mere inches away and she could feel his breath warming her skin.&nbsp; Her lips pressed together as she watched him as if studying his face.&nbsp; There was a strange intensity in those dark brown eyes before her lips pulled up in an amused smile. <br><br>All that power, all those victories and still they meant nothing.&nbsp; He could have killed any man on this tour yet he was helpless.&nbsp; Nothing more than a toy for her amusement.&nbsp; <br><br>She certainly must have had dozens of ideas running through her mind though the fact that they were in her carriage certainly limited them.&nbsp; She couldn’t have any real fun until they reached their destination and the freedom it would allow.&nbsp; For now though she would simply have to keep herself occupied in other ways.&nbsp; Silva’s fingers stroked his chin before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.&nbsp; It was a kiss of possession and power.&nbsp; There was nothing romantic behind her actions and instead there was something hungry about the way her lips greedily pushed against his pressing her body closer.&nbsp; Her free hand trailed down his stomach before coming to rest on his crotch stroking him slightly through the dirtied rags.<br><br>Finally, she pulled away letting her tongue slide over her lips.&nbsp; “I don’t you to do anything…for now.&nbsp; We’ll have plenty of time on the tour.”&nbsp; She purred before pulling away.&nbsp; And with that she focused her attention on the window once more seemingly forgetting all about his presence in her carriage.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>28-09-2012, 14:38:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the now rather claustrophobic carriage Faelan felt the press of her warm body against his, wishing for some way to escape the attentions of this young woman, but knowing he would have to endure whatever she had in store for him, no matter how unsavoury it was. He had expected her to demand he service her in some way, maybe to strip and show her his manhood like all the other spoiled little Roman girls did. The wives of the older nobles were the worst, often bored and under appreciated by their elderly and oft times incompetent lovers, they were very demanding and insatiable. <br><br>Her mimicing of his voice annoyed him, but he restrained himself enough so it did not show on his face, which remained as still as a stone. The feel of her hands over his skin both aroused and repulsed him at the same time. Her hands ran up his exposed chest and over his collarbone and she gripped his chin between her delicate fingers. He looked down into her eyes, frozen in place by her audacity. Nobody had ever treat him this way before, man or woman. He was a slave yes, but this woman treat him as if he was her toy, a pet or plaything to be used for her amusement. And that thought amused Faelan not one bit. He held still, the muscles in his back and shoulders tensing as she smiled at him, knowing she had full control of the situation.<br><br>She kissed him, forcefully - and badly in his opinion. There was enjoyment for Faelan, none at all, but he guessed that was not the point of the kiss as she pressed her lips hard against his, her lithe body pressing against his hard, muscular torso. He could feel her breasts press against him through their clothing, the heat of her body against him, but there was no passion or feeling, just possession. She was telling him that she owned him completely. He knew that now. She was the one in control, not her father, not his slave master, but this little slip of a girl. Bored, debauched and full of the desire to satisfy herself utterly without regard for his feelings. And she was going to be with him all the way round the fringes of Rome's might empire to satisfy her every fetish and want using him.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>Even the act of her stroking his manhood through his pants was done simply to prove she could. At any time, if she desired it she would do it. Faelan knew his fate was in her hands. Until he could gather support from the other gladiators and slaves that is. As he felt her tongue wet his lips and Sliva pulled away from him he resolved to make every effort to build as much support as he could out here starting tonight when they stopped for the night. Lauwine was the best place to start, followed by the others with him. He was confident he could gain their trust and support and build from there. <br><br>She was ignoring him now, looking out of the window as if he wasn't there. If only she would do that for the rest of the tour. Small hope of that. He knew the real games would begin when they stopped for the night and she started demanding he performed for her. He prayed she grew bored with him and he only faced the foe in the arena he could deal with in the way he knew best. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>02-10-2012, 03:07:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The rest of the carriage ride proceeded without much incident.&nbsp; Silva all but ignored Faelan’s very existence seemingly preferring to watch out the window as they passed various village.&nbsp; It would take at least another day if not more for them to reach their destination and the sun was slowly starting to set.&nbsp; The group had made good on their time but they would have to turn in for the night before the sun set completely.&nbsp; Despite all their guards it would be foolish to take their chances on these roads where thieves and barbarians may lurk waiting to strike.&nbsp; <br><br>The plan was to rest in Pisa for the night where they would be hosted by Governor Herod for the evening.&nbsp; The Governor’s thirst for debauchery was the thing of legends and Silva had heard more than a few stories of what went on within the walls of his villa.&nbsp; He’d had a rivalry with Tireus for as long as anyone could remember and the two were always trying to outdo each other.&nbsp; The very reason he’d volunteered his home was to show that the hospitality they had in Pisa far outshone what the Romans could even dream of.&nbsp; It hardly mattered to Silva who was simply happy to be out from under her father’s watchful eye.&nbsp; &nbsp;Herod would be too drunk on wine and power to even think to keep an eye on her.&nbsp; As for everyone else…well they couldn’t very well do a damn thing about it.<br><br>Eventually they entered the city gates and the horse hoofs beat against the stone roads as they made their way through the central part of the city while citizens lined the streets cheering and trying to take a peek inside.&nbsp; Almost all of the empire knew about the tour and the citizens were eager to get a look at the gladiators who would be fighting.&nbsp; Silva put on a bright smile as she waved to the people playing the part of the happy dignitary and representative of her family.&nbsp; The young woman certainly seemed to know how to turn on the charm waving gently at the crowd of people they passed before entering the outer ring of the Governor’s villa.&nbsp; Silva and her group would no doubt be in for a wonderful feast of the finest foods the area had to offer while Faelan and his gladiators would most likely be kept with the slaves until they were called out and paraded around before curious eyes.&nbsp; <br><br>The carriage came to a halt as the Governor approached happy to welcome his new guests.&nbsp; He called out for his slaves to come and see to the horses before the man himself opened the door to Silva’s carriage and held his hand out for her to grasp.&nbsp; “My dear, it is a pleasure to meet you.”&nbsp; The man said as he helped her out giving a curious glance at the man inside.&nbsp; If he thought anything of it he kept his mouth shut not wanting to say anything that could earn him the ire of the Senator’s daughter.&nbsp; “We have spent many days preparing an excellent feast for you and your company.&nbsp; You’ll find that one of our finest rooms has already been prepared and all preparations have been completed for the others as well.”&nbsp; Herod was a large man like many of the others though his eyes seemed to shine with mirth instead of the cold cruelty that Tireus always seemed to have.&nbsp; <br><br>Silva didn’t even give Faelan a second glance as she took the man’s hand and led him lead her inside the villa.&nbsp; The day traveling had been tiresome on the woman and she was happy to lie down and eat.&nbsp; The guards would take care of disassembling everything and she couldn’t be bothered to deal with such trivialities right now.&nbsp; Silva longed for a warm meal and then an even warmer bath.&nbsp; She may be traveling on the road but that was no reason for her to smell like it.<br><br>“I am most eager to experience your famed hospitality.”&nbsp; She purred bringing a blush to the man’s cheeks.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>04-10-2012, 15:01:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The rest of the journey Faelan spent in silence, his mistress all but ignoring his presence in the carriage. Only the hoof fall of the horses, turning of the wagon wheels and occasional shouts between guards were heard. For all the comfort of the soft cushions and padded seats, Faelan felt ill at ease with Silva sitting a foot or so away, acting for all the world as if he were invisible to her. <br><br>He tired of her game quickly and looked out of the window at the surrounding grassland and occasional forest. As the afternoon wore on the wagons passed several farms with peasants working the fields, sewing crops and tending to their flocks of sheep. <br><br>Faelan remembered the times when as a young boy he had helped his mother tend the fields around their small village, carrying sacks of grain for her or digging in the soil, weeding the neat rows of corn or barley. As he grew older his father took him out to look after the small flock of sheep and goats that they kept as a village. They often sat for hours watching the animals, rain or snow, making sure none wandered off and no wild animals took any of their flock. His remembrance was interrupted as he heard shouts from outside of the carriage. <br><br>A small village provided further drinking water for their horses but the stop was too brief to allow the gladiators time to stretch their legs. The sun began to sink toward the low hills on the horizon and yet still Silva refused to acknowledge his presence in her luxurious carriage. <br><br>At last Pisa's walls came into view and the drive had the horses pick up their pace for the final stretch, determined to reach their resting place before nightfall. Even the Governor's daughter would have trouble entering the city gates after dark. <br><br>Herod. Bacchus had told him of this man on more than one occasion. He was a powerful man in this region, rich, intelligent, greedy and hedonistic by the old man's account. Faelan knew not how he came to be aware of this, as a simple Roman collector of taxes Bacchus would hardly have been invited to one of the man's extravagant feasts, but he had no other information to contradict his old mentor so he took it at face value. <br><br>It appeared that half the city had turned out to greet them, people lined the main street from the gate almost to Herod's own villa, wanting to take a look at the visitors from Rome. They waved and threw palm leaves in their path as a sign of welcome, obviously eager to show their guests how happy and prosperous they were under Herod's rule. The gladiators in the wagons were given tokens for luck by some of the citizens, particularly Lauwine, due to his handsome features.. Many of the young women seemed quite taken by him. There were many who had turned out to see the great warrior from Britain, but not having seen him themselves, they did not know if he were among those in the wagon and some seemed a little disappointed at the specimens on display - surely one such as Faelan would be a huge, hulking brute of a man, almost like an ogre according to the tales of his prowess in the arena. <br><br>Their wagon train passed slowly through the streets and came to a halt inside the private grounds of Governor Herod's villa, the gates of which were closed behind them, separating them from the common folk outside, allowing the governor to greet his honoured guest in private. Slaves were called to tend to the horses and the travelling gladiators and Herod himself greeted Silva, offering a fat hand to assist her from her luxurious carriage. Faelan felt the man's eyes scrutinise him for a moment and saw a shadow of a frown pass over his face, but nothing more was said as he set off on an explanation - or boast - on what he had prepared for the visit of the senator's expedition. <br><br>Herod's slaves set about getting the weary horses to his stables, making sure they were watered, fed and well groomed. The ostentatious carriage, white and gold at the beginning of the day looked a little weather worn by now, but several men brought out buckets of water and went about the task of washing it down just as soon as Herod's private guards arrived to take the gladiators to their quarters for the night. Faelan was almost forgotten, still sat in the carriage as it was washed until someone caught sight of him and a pair of guards rather hastily came to fetch him. The looks he got and their rough handling of him indicated he was less valuable to them than the animals that were being carefully tended to in the stables. He made no effort to resist and was manhandled from the steps of the carriage, through the courtyard and into the servants quarters at the back of the large whitewashed villa. He joined the others, getting a nod of welcome from Lauwine. The others stared at him in almost open hostility. He realised they must have assumed his ride with Silva was some preferential treatment. As they were deposited in a small but clean and dry dormitory he spoke up, wanting to head off any potential ill feeling. <br><br>"I may have been seated on plump cushions but believe me I was more uncomfortable with her than had I been in the wagon with my fellow gladiators, certainly the conversation would have been less awkward. If it were up to me I would have stayed with you, but apparently it pleased her to have me sit in silence with her." He shook his head as he spoke, looking to Lauwine for some support. <br><br>"While we are here we need to stick together and watch each other's backs if we are all to return home." Faelan said, emphasising the final word. "Lauwine has already saved my life and I would do the same for him or any of you in a heartbeat. "&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>"We should rest and eat while we can, for I am sure our time here will not be as relaxing and pleasurable as our hosts or Lady Silva's." Lauwine suggested to the others, nodding at Faelan's promise. "Faelan is right, we must all fight as one. I do not wish to fall in some backwater fighting pit for the sake of some petty grievance. I will have your back Faelan, and anyone else that will return the favour."<br><br>The others grudgingly nodded their heads and stepped forward, placing their hands atop one of the other gladiators, swearing to watch out for one another on their travels. <br><br>The water and plain food brought in was consumed with gusto and the men began to talk of their lives before the arena and of the glory they had earned on the bloody sands after their enslavement. All too soon for Faelan's liking someone called for them and they were taken to the main villa where the governor's guests awaited the entertainment for the evening.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Letrie</strong> on <strong>09-10-2012, 02:22:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It appeared no expense had been spared in preparation of their visit.&nbsp; &nbsp;The villa was immaculate and the slaves must have spent the week cleaning to make the marble floors gleam so brightly in the candlelight.&nbsp; There were hundreds of candles lighting the room decorating the walls and hanging from the ceiling making everyone feel warm in their glow.&nbsp; The tables had been loaded with a decadent fare that had many of the guards’ mouths watering just by the scent of the roasting beef and rich wine.&nbsp; If Herod had meant to show off his power and wealth the man was doing a spectacular job of it and even Silva had to admit that his home rivaled even her own.&nbsp; No doubt the man expected her to take news back to her father of how gracious their host had been and how rich the fare was.<br><br>“Please have a seat, my dear.”&nbsp; The man said as he led her towards the head table where his own wife, children and the various nobles of Pisa had assembled.&nbsp; Silva took her seat with effortless grace before joining in the conversation as if it were nothing to her.&nbsp; As Curius’ daughter she’d had to attend many of these sort of parties and had learned the value of conversation.&nbsp; It was an opportunity to listen and learn while keeping her own tongue locked to make sure nothing important slipped out.&nbsp; As the night progressed those tongues would get looser and secrets would start flowing just like the red wine that they sipped.&nbsp; It was important to always keep her ears open and to see just what the state of affairs here in Pisa was.&nbsp; She already knew Herod’s feelings towards the Roman Governor and perhaps he could be persuaded to let loose a few secrets about the man.&nbsp; The Senator would certainly be pleased to have some information to hold over the Governor’s head.<br><br>“I trust your trip here wasn’t too tiresome.”&nbsp; Herod’s wife said as she turned her attention back to the younger woman.&nbsp; The trip itself had been boring and she’d been far too lost in her own thought to even torment Faelan.&nbsp; Something she’d have to remedy later as she couldn’t have the poor Gladiator think he had escaped just yet.<br><br>“No, it was bearable.&nbsp; If I may impose, I would love a warm bath after the celebration.&nbsp; I fear that so many hours on the road are harsh on my skin and I would want nothing more than to clean up before bed.”&nbsp; Silva gave the woman a charming smile batting her dark eyes ever so sweetly.&nbsp; The baths in Pisa were said to be as good as any in Rome and she relished the opportunity to clean up after the day’s journey.&nbsp; Silva didn’t like dirt and she hated feeling dirty even more.&nbsp; Besides, the bath would give her a chance for some privacy and it may even provide an opportunity to test out her new toy.<br><br>The next hour was spent with people gorging themselves on the rich food and enjoying the pleasure of idle gossip.&nbsp; For her part, Silva ate quietly nodding when appropriate and sharing some frivolous words about Roman fashion.&nbsp; Soon the mood changed as the wine took over and the laugher grew louder.&nbsp; The people had their food and now they demanded their entertainment.&nbsp; The doors opened as the Gladiators were ushered in to provide the show for the evening’s festivities.&nbsp; Right behind the men was the slave master with guards stationed on either side in case anything happened. <br><br>“We would like to thank Governor Herod for his hospitality and honor the good people with a show.”&nbsp; The slave master bellowed as the gathered group applauded while some openly gawked at the men.&nbsp; Silva could hear whispers as the women commented on their physiques while the men spoke in hushed tones though she could catch Faelan’s name every now and then.<br><br>The Gladiators would be made to spar against each other before walking around letting people openly poke and prod at them.&nbsp; For her part, Silva had a content smile simply sitting there and sipping her wine though her eyes always seemed to be trained on Faelan.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Watch it Crumble (Ryanmcallister80 &amp; Letrie)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ryanmcallister80</strong> on <strong>12-10-2012, 14:07:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The slave master came to take Faelan and the others from the servants kitchens, his whip cracking, some of Herod's cudgel wielding guards standing at his side. Spirits were high among the travelling gladiators, having sworn an oath together and swapped stories of their past lives they felt a renewed sense of kinship. <br><br>Faelan was the most renowned and skilled of them, but by no means the only formidable fighter. Lauwine the Gaul was capable of wielding any weapon and he was rightly respected by all who had seen him fight. He was a cunning warrior, using his speed and skill to take down foe larger and stronger than him and this had earned him a good reputation among the others. <br><br>Harad and Faizal were from the east, their skin markedly darker and more swarthy than the others, both having been taken during the Empire's expansion into the exotic Byzantine kingdoms. Both sported dark hair and intricately plaited beards particular to their people. Their preferred fighting style was to use two curved swords peculiar to their region, though they were seldom allowed to fight in the arena in this way.<br><br>Sylvad, Thadeus and Irain were all from the central regions and the children of slaves taken from the previous generation of Roman conquests. They had been born into slavery and knew nothing besides serving their Roman masters. Their homelands had all been taken by the Roman's and their peoples absorbed into the mighty empire, history and culture forgotten by all but the oldest and wisest of historians. They fought only because they had nothing else to offer, for their continued survival, Faelan wasn't sure that made them more or less valuable for it. <br><br>Curius' slave master met them in the servant's bathing chamber, the pool small by comparison to the one that would serve the members of the Herod household proper. They were made to strip and quickly bathe in the luke warm water of the pool, washing away the grime and sweat of the days travel before drying themselves off with rough towels. Their only clothing were simple loin cloths, as was the custom for this kind of banquet, the gladiators would be sent out to show their athletic physiques, their bodies oiled and glistening in the candle light of the hall, the guest able to ogle and in some cases fondle the fine examples masculinity. Once they had dried each other, the slave master took them to a table carrying several bowls of oils and grease he had them rub the oil into each others bodies, so their skin gleamed wetly under the dim candlelight of the bath house. The oil actually had some medicinal properties and soothed the gladiators muscles after a long day (in most cases) sat in the cramped wagon. The grease however was purely for show, making it harder for the men to hold each other when the were made to wrestle each other as part of the evenings entertainment and also it made their bodies look better for the spectators.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Once they were all ready the slave master gave them all a cursory inspection and after applying more grease to one or two of the men he nodded in satisfaction. "Herod expects a good show from you lot tonight, so make sure he gets one. It wouldn't do to disappoint our generous host. You'll be rewarded later for your efforts if he's well pleased."&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>They were hustled down a corridor to a set of double doors, Faelan could hear the sound of merriment and laughter beyond, inside the banqueting hall. The doors were opened by a pair of guards and the gladiators were encouraged by the slave master with a few noisy whip cracks to enter the noisy, crowded hall. Faelan was in the middle of the group as they entered, feeling the eyes of the gathered guests on him and his companions. Men and women were gorging themselves on rich food and wine, great trays of roasted pig, ox and chicken made the tables groan under their weight and barrels of ale and wine were being emptied by the inebriated guests.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>He could hear people comment on the troupe as they walked around the tables to the space in the centre of the room, his name being mentioned more than once as the revellers tried to figure out which one was the mighty Faelan, undisputed, undefeated master of the arena.&nbsp; <br><br>The men set about grappling and sparring in the centre of the banquet hall, he and Lauwine wrestling for the pleasure of the rowdy guests. Shouts of encouragement and the occasional lewd comment from the more inebriated and forward female revellers were directed at the gladiators as they put on a show for Herod and his guests. <br><br>People were openly gawping lewdly at them now, the wine having loosened their inhibitions. Women, and some of the men, had lustful expressions as they watched the gladiators grapple togeher, their oiled bodies heaving with the exertion of the mock fights.&nbsp; <br>This was the part he hated most, more so than being made to fight like a trained animal - at least in the arena your opponent gave his all, knowing if he were bested he would likely pay with his life. The evening wore on and the guests became less subtle. After the show fighting, the gladiators were encouraged to mingle with the guests and the more confident women gathered around the men, offering them wine and asking the usual questions about 'what is it like to kill a man' and 'are you as skilled as lovers as you are fighters'.. All the while Faelan felt the eyes of his mistress on him, knowing it was only a matter of time until she called for him. 
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		</dl>
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