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- Joined
- Jan 14, 2009
- Location
- Canada
Sound was pervasive in the air, the buzz of a crowd that waited for it's main attraction. There had been blood spilt all ready, no less that six duels fought on the sands of the arena. Well matched, and fought to teh bitter, bloody end. But most had come for a single reason, a single event. And the time was no upon them.
"My lords and ladies! You have seen blood and death, courage an honour this day! But are you ready for more?" The crier shouted to the people of the arena. The crowd roared an affirmation. "Then you shall have it! Presenting, the warrior from the most distant reaches of our empire, the slayer of all who have faced him, I give you..The Northman!" As he finished, a gate raised itself up slowly. From it emerged the largest man any had seen.
He towered over any others, a full foot taller than the average man of the empire, and easily half again as wide. Thickly muscled, and seamed with the sacrs to show a lifetime of conflict etched onto his skin, he glared around at teh cheering crowd, knowing not but loathing for te decadant ways of these southern people. Regradless, they seemed to love teh way he fought, with such wild abandon, such ferocity and wrath. The gate on the opposite side of the arena cranked open, and his opposition emerged. Six men this time, and the crowd roared out in approval. The Northman looked back at where the man who 'owned' him sat. The man dropped a bundle to him, not willing to trust the Northman in the waiting area with weapons in hand. The huge man lifted the tools of his trade.
A heavy axe, large enough that most might need a second hand to wield it, with a curving blade, and a hooked beard that would let him trap weapons, and shield with the right moves. In the other he hefted a heavy fighting hammer. The back of the hammer had a curved dewclaw, a wicked spike that would be able to pierce any armour. Lastly, he tucked a pair of throwing axes into his belt, and strode out to meet his foes.
Each foe held a round shield, and either a spear or sword. They moved confidantly, and he knew they had been training to fight together. He idly wondered how much his 'master' had been paid to allow a fight with such numbers arrayed against him. They waited at a distance, until finally the great gong sounded, announcing that the fight was begun. They cam at him in a rush, and he moved to meet them.
A spear glanced off the blocking haft of an axe, his hammer sweeping in. The shiled that blocked his strike blew apart under the blow, the man crying out as his arm broke under the ferocity of the blow. The axe swept up, taking the man's head from his shoulder. Blood arced, and the crowd howled. As the head landed, he kicked it, sending the bloody piece into the crowd, who seemed to be fighting over possession of it. He leapt to teh side, his weapons moving as he spun. The man that had been charging to strike his back caught both weapons in the chest. The axe clove through his ribs, tearing out the side, while the hammer pulped the other side of his chest. Dead, but not yet aware of teh fact, the man staggered. The Northman kicked him intot eh path of another oncoming foe, while letting his hammer fall, the head landing flat, the haft standing straight up. A throwing axe in hand, he launched it at a man coming at him. The blade carved his head in half, and the Northman swept up his hammer as he charged at the three remaining warriors.
The beard of his axe locked on the rim of a shield, adn the Northman dragged the other man into teh path of his feellow warriors, before swinging the hammer, and pounding his head down, blood misting from the eye sockets of his helmet. Lettingthe man fall, The Northman dodged a spear thrust, but felt teh bite of steel on his ribs, as a glancing blow from a sword hit him. He drove his forehead into the man who had wounded him, sending the man reeling, helmet not withstanding. He spun the hammer around, and swung. The spearman tried to duck, but the swing sompensated, adn teh dewclaw slammed into the side of his head, punching through the metal and bone, embedding itself in his head. Letting the hammer go, the Northman drew out his remaining throwing axe, and let fly. Charging after it, the last warrior managed to get his shield in the way of the hurtling axe, the weapon hitting hard enough to drive him back a pace. As the shield came down, he saw the huge barbarian leaping at him, axe held in both hands, and bringing it down. The blow hit beside the head, and clove the man apart, cutting across the torso, and emerging halfway through the ribs, letting the body fall in two. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Caught up in the thrill of combat, the man fro the north raised his weapons in the air.
"UNBEROGEN!" He roared out, a sound of primal fury in the language of his homeland, the bellow sounding even over the roar of the crowd.
Crassus Argentum looked out at the ruin left behind by the rampaging Northman. On his left sat his Castellan, the man who made sure all affairs went as desired by the Master of the House. On his right was the chief amongst his slaves. Rin, a purchase of some years ago. But the man in arena...that could be helpful to his household. A warrior of skill, strength, and one that could likely make his a tidy sum fighting like this in the arena. He turned to his left.
"I understand the owner is willing to sell such a creature?" He said quietly.
"Yes, he has expressed a desire to return home. It will not be cheap sire, but it can be done." The Castellen, Cicero, stated.
"Make it happen." As Cicero moved off to see tot eh arrangement, he turned to Rin. "We'll have a new arrival for you to oversee. The Northman. See to it he adjusts to life on the estate quickly."
"My lords and ladies! You have seen blood and death, courage an honour this day! But are you ready for more?" The crier shouted to the people of the arena. The crowd roared an affirmation. "Then you shall have it! Presenting, the warrior from the most distant reaches of our empire, the slayer of all who have faced him, I give you..The Northman!" As he finished, a gate raised itself up slowly. From it emerged the largest man any had seen.
He towered over any others, a full foot taller than the average man of the empire, and easily half again as wide. Thickly muscled, and seamed with the sacrs to show a lifetime of conflict etched onto his skin, he glared around at teh cheering crowd, knowing not but loathing for te decadant ways of these southern people. Regradless, they seemed to love teh way he fought, with such wild abandon, such ferocity and wrath. The gate on the opposite side of the arena cranked open, and his opposition emerged. Six men this time, and the crowd roared out in approval. The Northman looked back at where the man who 'owned' him sat. The man dropped a bundle to him, not willing to trust the Northman in the waiting area with weapons in hand. The huge man lifted the tools of his trade.
A heavy axe, large enough that most might need a second hand to wield it, with a curving blade, and a hooked beard that would let him trap weapons, and shield with the right moves. In the other he hefted a heavy fighting hammer. The back of the hammer had a curved dewclaw, a wicked spike that would be able to pierce any armour. Lastly, he tucked a pair of throwing axes into his belt, and strode out to meet his foes.
Each foe held a round shield, and either a spear or sword. They moved confidantly, and he knew they had been training to fight together. He idly wondered how much his 'master' had been paid to allow a fight with such numbers arrayed against him. They waited at a distance, until finally the great gong sounded, announcing that the fight was begun. They cam at him in a rush, and he moved to meet them.
A spear glanced off the blocking haft of an axe, his hammer sweeping in. The shiled that blocked his strike blew apart under the blow, the man crying out as his arm broke under the ferocity of the blow. The axe swept up, taking the man's head from his shoulder. Blood arced, and the crowd howled. As the head landed, he kicked it, sending the bloody piece into the crowd, who seemed to be fighting over possession of it. He leapt to teh side, his weapons moving as he spun. The man that had been charging to strike his back caught both weapons in the chest. The axe clove through his ribs, tearing out the side, while the hammer pulped the other side of his chest. Dead, but not yet aware of teh fact, the man staggered. The Northman kicked him intot eh path of another oncoming foe, while letting his hammer fall, the head landing flat, the haft standing straight up. A throwing axe in hand, he launched it at a man coming at him. The blade carved his head in half, and the Northman swept up his hammer as he charged at the three remaining warriors.
The beard of his axe locked on the rim of a shield, adn the Northman dragged the other man into teh path of his feellow warriors, before swinging the hammer, and pounding his head down, blood misting from the eye sockets of his helmet. Lettingthe man fall, The Northman dodged a spear thrust, but felt teh bite of steel on his ribs, as a glancing blow from a sword hit him. He drove his forehead into the man who had wounded him, sending the man reeling, helmet not withstanding. He spun the hammer around, and swung. The spearman tried to duck, but the swing sompensated, adn teh dewclaw slammed into the side of his head, punching through the metal and bone, embedding itself in his head. Letting the hammer go, the Northman drew out his remaining throwing axe, and let fly. Charging after it, the last warrior managed to get his shield in the way of the hurtling axe, the weapon hitting hard enough to drive him back a pace. As the shield came down, he saw the huge barbarian leaping at him, axe held in both hands, and bringing it down. The blow hit beside the head, and clove the man apart, cutting across the torso, and emerging halfway through the ribs, letting the body fall in two. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Caught up in the thrill of combat, the man fro the north raised his weapons in the air.
"UNBEROGEN!" He roared out, a sound of primal fury in the language of his homeland, the bellow sounding even over the roar of the crowd.
Crassus Argentum looked out at the ruin left behind by the rampaging Northman. On his left sat his Castellan, the man who made sure all affairs went as desired by the Master of the House. On his right was the chief amongst his slaves. Rin, a purchase of some years ago. But the man in arena...that could be helpful to his household. A warrior of skill, strength, and one that could likely make his a tidy sum fighting like this in the arena. He turned to his left.
"I understand the owner is willing to sell such a creature?" He said quietly.
"Yes, he has expressed a desire to return home. It will not be cheap sire, but it can be done." The Castellen, Cicero, stated.
"Make it happen." As Cicero moved off to see tot eh arrangement, he turned to Rin. "We'll have a new arrival for you to oversee. The Northman. See to it he adjusts to life on the estate quickly."
