Brevka's stance relaxes, and she nods, with a little bit of warmth returning to her eyes.
"Thank you. I'm Brevka." She takes her place on the bench, and without looking begins using the same barbells as her predecessor, not looking to start any contests of dominance for now.
It seemed a little purposeless. The gods blessed her with strength and a well muscled physique because she fought and she trained. Showing her strength here would likely bring their blessings, but it wasn't as good as having a true task to set herself too. It was certainly more boring than the pit.
One thing was bothering her though... "Your mohawk, what are you uzhing to keep it up? They either want me to burn off my hair, or refuzhee to let me cut it, and I haven't sheen or shmelled any pig greashe to fix it in plashe. Or izh that for when I've been here longer; how long have you been here?"
Kaxatja frowns.
"A token. No, I did not pick up any such thing. What did it look like?" the drider dissembles, telling a truth.
** spoiler omitted **
The drow woman pauses as you address her. She blinks a couple of times, her eyes darting between your own and the ludus' stone floor.
"...don't know. Haven't seen you around much before." She whispers.
---------------------
** spoiler omitted **
"I haven't seen you around before either." Lyra'an whispers back quietly, leaning in close. "You look nervous.....and angry....what's wrong?"
Lilamma listens attentively about the flailing project, her interest piqued.
However, when she understands that she won't be the one flayed alive, her interest falters.
Some people have all the luck in the world...
*le sigh*
Taking a loaf of bread from the table, she rises from her seat and wanders in the corridors, thinking and maybe scheming
I wonder if I could start a little cult of Zon Kuthon here. So much exquisite pain here... My god would love this place to death!
"Yes. Right there..."She gasps. She gets wetter by the moment the longer you work your tongue.
You can practically feel her heartbeat in your mouth.
The other half-orc, Jex, has a fetish mask carved in the shape of a howling warg with dark brown feathers crudely nailed into its top. It looks like a mask of the Howling Dogs.
Naerox grins and taps his mohawk. "It's a privilege for being so damn good in fighting."
"And magic." Jex snorts. "His music-magic, specifically."
"Still, though!" Naerox shoots Jex an annoyed look before returning to his chipper mood. "Been here for... what, five years? And our team is the REAL champion team, too." He beams with childish pride.
----------------------
Kamala blinks a couple of times at you. "A bat-winged butterfly."
"You do know where it is, yes? Or who has it, at least?"
----------------------
The drow glares back at the cell she's next to. Lounging inside is a smug-looking male drow with straight and pristine silver hair. He's drinking from a bottle of wine while resting his feet on the back of another male drow, who doesn't look nearly as enthusiastic as the man he's being a footstool for.
"...that's our team leader, Arcavato." The female grumbles. "Be thankful you haven't met him yet."
----------------------
As you wander outside of the ludus, a couple of male drow guards coming from the Temple of Nurgal see you and move to intercept you.
"Hey, you! You're not allowed outside of the ludus. Turn around and go back."
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She mumbles under her breath in Undercommon...
Anabel can't quite catch what Nathrae mumbles, but based on the drow's physical reaction, it appears that she is quite satisfied with the shaman's ministrations. She crawls up out of the pool and lays beside Nathrae, propping her head up on an arm. "Well, then? Do we have an accord?"
"After all, I must contribute to this accord too." She sits up and scoots to the caldarium's wall, taking you by the hand and guiding you to sit in her lap.
Her mouth closes around your ear and she reaches around to your front, one hand gently kneading one of your breasts and her other hand sliding down your belly with reverence. You feel her tongue delicately tracing the curves and point of your ear with a practiced ease.
"Tell me what you want, darthiir." She whispers in your ear. It doesn't feel like a request--more like a command.
Her breasts press against your back.
"No....he definitely doesn't seem like the type I would enjoy meeting. It's a pleasure to meet you though, I'm Lyra'an." the khayal replies quietly. "Is he forcing you to stand here?"
"I want you to please me. I want you to use my body for your pleasure as well," she whispers. "Do with me as you like."
"Name's Sabrae." The drow gladiatrix replies. "And yes, he forces me to mind the door while he hogs all of our team's rewards for himself."
"Not much I can do. He's a noble-born wretch--but his mother would have me flayed if something were to happen to him."
--------------------
"Tap my thigh three times if you want me to stop." She whispers once more before her mouth kisses its way down the back of your neck. She lifts you a bit higher in her lap.
You can feel her dripping again.
The acolyte chuckles in your ear. It's a wonderful, contralto sound. "Such a good little darthiir."
With a few more light touches of your hidden spot, she turns your head to face her and captures your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.
"Let me guess Sabrae, rich spoiled male role who fancies himself a fighter, decides to make a name for himself in the arena, and his house's Matron decides to assign her most capable slave to keep him alive." Lyra'an conjectures. "I saw your mark so I assume it's something like that." she says, idly raisin her hand so that her fingertips lightly touch the brand mark.
"...you surmise correctly. Mostly." Sabrae says as she swats your hand away from her brand. "Her most capable... slave. And a few of his worthless hangers-on."
She glares past your shoulder, over to where the two males at the table are laughing and joking.
Naerox grins and taps his mohawk. "It's a privilege for being so damn good in fighting."
"And magic." Jex snorts. "His music-magic, specifically."
"Still, though!" Naerox shoots Jex an annoyed look before returning to his chipper mood. "Been here for... what, five years? And our team is the REAL champion team, too." He beams with childish pride.
"I'll jusht have to prove myshelf on the shandsh more then."
Hmmp. Five years. Practically a lifetime. Do they bring favored slaves back from the dead? Or are orcs just not funny to watch die to unkillable beasts?
"What elshe to the championsh get Ashide from keeping your livezh?"
"The champions?" Naerox grins like a fool. "Only the best food, the best cell, the best--"
Jex scoffs and gets up from his stretches. "It's a gilded cage. Yes, we're pampered, but we're still on a leash. And the only way to escape the cage is to die in the arena."
Naerox looks at Jex with a disheartened expression. "It's not THAT bad--"
"It is." The masked half-orc's reply is uncomfortably blunt. "And if you think otherwise, you have never known what freedom is."
Looking over at the other two that drew Sabrae's glare she shakes her head. "Doesn't sound like you fit in with these bastards at all."
No problem boss.. was just using my legs while I still got them.Can't blame a girl for that, no? I'm sure with vigilant guards like you there is no escape possible... Not that I'll try to run away, I'm quite fine here: people hurt me, beat me, and try to maim or kill me regulary, so it's heaven to me. But just as an information, what is done to slaves who try to escape? What is their punishment?
Lilamma eyes gleam with envy and vice as she tries to get some (juicy and gory) details out of the guards mouth
She hadn't asked her captors. Best not to hope for freedom. They could always dangle it on a string for her later.
Brevka wasn't here to take sides, but it was still Jex she turned towards when she asked, "Hmmp. They don't uzhe hope azh a lash?"
Kaxatja's face freezes, and she stands quickly on her thin, high legs, towering over Kamala.
"I cannot say. You seek me, and my aid. Twice. I ask you do not return a third time. May you find your patron's honor on the sand."
With that the drider climbs back into her nest.
Kamala sighs. "...very well."
She turns and leaves your cell.
---------------------
The two guards who approach you promptly stop, looking rather disarmed by your... enthusiasm.
"Depends on how often they try. Usually, they're whipped half to death for their first offence. Second time's when they start getting more creative." One answers, his tone guarded.
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"A leash?" Jex seems momentarily confused by your speech. "...not that I know of. Oh, there's always rumours that a favoured gladiator or their team has been allowed to leave Zirnakaynin once they've achieved enough victories. But they're just rumours--no solid proof."
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"Of course not. I actually know how to fight."
Sabrae is about to continue when the sound of glass breaking comes from within the cell, along with a high-pitched yelp of pain.
"Oh, my. Another shoddy wine bottle." A posh, slightly nasally voice comes from inside. "Girl, fetch me another bottle. And do be quick about it, would you? My throat is getting parched."
You see Sabrae's fists tighten hard enough to crush coal into diamonds.
---------------------
She rises and starts to walk over to her piled-up robes, taking her time changing into them.
Anabel walks over to Nathrae and wraps her arms around her. She slides a hand into the drow's robes and pulls forth what is hidden there. "The sort of drow with more secrets than she lets on, it would seem," the shaman says playfully.
The temperature of the air in the caldarium seems to drop by a couple of degrees.
"...you learn quickly." She withdraws your hand from her robes--but doesn't make a move to take the object out of your hand.
In your hand is a small metal token in the shape of the full moon, with a crown of thorns on top and a pair of smirking lips in its centre.
"Are you sure you'll take the blame if something happened to him....in the arena?" Lyra'an asks, almost innocently. "I should go before you end up in trouble. If you ever feel the need to vent.....or blow off steam, cme find me."
"Are you sure you'll take the blame if something happened to him....in the arena?"
"I'm certain his mother would be apoplectic. If he dies outside the arena, though..." Sabrae trails off in thought.
"I should go before you end up in trouble. If you ever feel the need to vent.....or blow off steam, come find me."
"...I'll be sure to remember that." Sabrae replies before skulking off to the kitchens.
--------------------"...if you and your team survive these coming weeks, I'll tell you more. But for now, you need to prepare." She sighs. "Alaunirra's been entertaining a couple of offers from other noble houses--and I think she's settled on one for you all."
"It will involve doing harm to possibly innocent people." She says with an undercurrent of disgust in her voice.
"Sho what do they do to the poor foolsh who try to eshcape?"
and I'm sure after the second time there is no need for a third time… So what kind of punishment is delivered on the second time? Something painful I guess, and probably public to set an exemple for any would-be escapee? Better to kill as painfully as possible one slave than to risk to loss a bunch of them, I guess
It seems that Lilamma is quite excited, for a lack of better term, at the idea
With a sigh, Lyra'an heads back the way she came, looking to see if anyone else was about.
"...that'd be easier said than done." She moves to gather up your clothes.
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"They lash them the first time. Second time, they try to come up with something new. Third time, they arrange for the ludus champion to execute them in an arena match." Jex growls. "Nargos relishes such an opportunity."
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The guards look at each other before turning back to you. "...usually. Last year the favoured punishment for second offences was a public flaying. Year before that, they were paralyzed and covered in thousands of little spiders. Not sure what that b$#&$ Alaunirra is going to come up with this year."
"She doesn't believe in third chances--a third offence will result in you dying to our champion in the arena."
------------------------
As you turn to leave, you notice Kamala emerging from Lilamma's cell, looking angry and anxious.
So the first one's not that bad.
I suppose a maimed gladiator's not worth keeping.
Brevka shook her head ruefully. "When all that shurrounsh ush izh endlesh cavernzh... Where would they even run to?"
Jex snorts. "Some believe that a passage exists back to the surface within Zirnakaynin's environs."
"Hmph. Delusional."
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"Return from your assignment alive tomorrow, and I'll see what I can do to... make things a little easier."
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You see Anabel emerging from the baths with Nathrae in tow. The priestess turns and leaves the ludus, leaving the surface elf alone.
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Brevka finishes her set with a clatter of metal on metal and sits back up, a thin sheen of perspiration glistening in place of her competition oils.
"I'm sure a lot of foolsh have died that way. Running off into the dark with no plan, and no friendsh."
She looked at Jex hard, unsmiling. "I'd never try to escape like that."
With a lingering look of jealousy at Naerox's hair, she stood. "I'll leave you both to your work. I hope to meet again, here; godsh favor your bladesh when you nexht take to the shandsh."
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Approaching Anabel with a grin as Nathrae leaves, Lyra'an looks at the elf. "Well you certainly look.....satisfied."
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Anabel blushes as Lyra'an approaches. "Yes, well... Nathrae and I have reached a mutually satisfactory agreement. If I am to be a prisoner here, I don't see why my stay should have to be an altogether unpleasant one."