Kamnar listened to the bizarre duo, the beastman and the human child, speak in Common with mysterious elegance, and he got the impression that they shared a unique bond despite holding different views. He was a bit startled by the bear-man’s appearance, as he had not, in all his travels throughout Arkreides, seen such a being; though as he thought about it, he did remember hearing stories of unusually peaceful, bear-like creatures from the older orc warriors in his clan.

As they finished their brief speeches, all of the slaves began to board the lanista’s embellished wooden carriage one by one. Kamnar followed them, striding past the resentful male elf and ascending the ramp of the cart. The lanista, smirking, went to the front and seated himself by the driver. He and his purchased slaves were finally prepared to make their destined journey to the Arena.

*****

At first, it was a fairly quiet cart ride, despite its unusual array of passengers, the only noises being the squeaking wooden wheels and the benches’ chains clanging from movement. The rising sun shone intermittently through the barred windows, one particularly bright ray hitting Kamnar directly in his eyes. No matter; he didn’t think he’d be able to get any rest regardless. No sooner than that thought had passed through his mind did he notice the same platinum-haired elf as before nodding off onto the bear-man’s furred arm. He watched, amused, as the beast allowed him to nap in silence. Kamnar then saw the sickly Skytalon seated nearby, the one that had greeted him aboard the Ludus-bound barge; he gave him a soft smile, which the bird-man returned enthusiastically. Suddenly, he lurched forward with a nasty cough, which woke the drowsy Elven slave with a start. Kamnar observed the argument between the Thunderhoof and the elf with some interest; what caught his eye specifically was the way the Forest Thorn instigated the bull beastman with ease. Though the beastman seemed the short-tempered type in the first place, it seemed that the elf had some practice in manipulation, and he promised himself to be wary of him in the future.

The elven male, looking around at all of them with a genial smile, proceeded to ask aloud how they had come to be here. He used an elven word, [i]Serons[/i] – though Kamnar did not remember its exact meaning, he recognized it as a respectful one from his past dealings with elves. Despite the nagging distrust in the back of his mind, he thought it would be best to get to know these people and perhaps make allies; after all, it would be much easier to lay low in the Arena if they all had some mutual understanding. He also appreciated the fact that the elf was the one to bring up the subject; if it had been himself, there might have been much fewer fighters interested in sharing their stories with an orc. Kamnar leaned forward and indulged his tale to those who listened, his fingers interlocking to prevent his hands from shaking with anger; this was the first time he ever said these truths out loud, and it was like reliving his hell all over again.

“I was a high-ranking paladin of Hel-brok’thar, serving my god, Pra’Flakor. On a mission to convert a small black orc tribe, I was accused of the murder of a local tribesman by my own fellow knight. The tribesman’s family attacked me and I –“ Kamnar paused furiously, biting his lip – “I killed them all to defend myself. As it turned out, that paladin had hired a lanista to frame me, and I was arrested and sold into slavery. He got to keep his knighthood while I ended up… here.”

A bitter smile worked its way onto his face as he spoke. Four innocent orcs dead, and one guilty orc still alive and serving in his esteemed position… Surely Pra’Flakor did not will this? And if he had, for what purpose? These questions ran through his mind for the thousandth time since his capture; Kamnar was forced to consider the possibility that there was no god to protect him from what awaited him in the Arena…