[hr][center][h1][color=000000] Tiberius Thrax[/color][/h1] [/center][hr]


Understandably, Tiberius Thrax did not appreciate being locked up in a cell beneath the theatre. The Overseer Captain was far more used to springing traps than being the one caught up in them, and his already lacking fondness for the Spartan was rapidly depleting. 

 “Keep your heads on straight, everyone,” Thrax ordered, pulling a cigarette out of the carton he kept on him, and igniting it with the click of his lighter “the barbarians have us at an undeniable disadvantage, but nothing we’ve been through worse.” 

Thrax slipped the cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag. 

“I suppose it's something of a blessing that the marshal is involved,” Thrax grumbled, blowing a plume of white smoke out into the cell “but these up-jumped convicts don’t know who they’re fucking with.” 

The Overseer Captain kept his eyes on the guards outside of their cell, watching them stand sentinel in the corridor beyond. 

“Keep your wits about you,” Thrax instructed his fellow prisoners “and let me worry about the rest.”