Farai – The Area

Cortez made his way to the crowd looking for a good spot to watch the upcoming spectacle. The area was crowded, filled way beyond what was considered the maximum capacity. He had put his bodyguards as fighters in the ring and did not want to miss a second of the action. Not to mention that we was dying of curiosity due to the fact that such games are prohibited back in the Democratic League. There gladiatorial fights are deemed barbaric. As the Archeo-Technologist pushed on towards what he thought was to be a good spot the crowd suddenly cheered in excitement as the Ashen riders entered the battlegrounds. “We must hurry” shouted Cortez towards his companion dressed in pure white silk. “We’re going to miss the first fight”. Luckily Cortez soon found a good spot on one of the stairways. 

Master Cortez could not keep his eyes of the fight. Closely he followed every javelin the Ashen Riders threw into what seemed to be an endless stream of Ghuls. Horrified he watched how the Ashen Riders where finally overcome by the sheer force of numbers and ripped through sheds. The brutality of the scene was not nearly as horrifying as the realisation that the fight was setup in a way that the Ashen Riders would lose. They never had a chance of survival to begin with. Cortez started to worry about what he had put his men into. He turned towards his companion and spoke softly. “Lady Gwenevir, do you know why this fight was never meant to be won by the Ashen Riders?”

The lady covered in white looked towards the royal mezzanine and spoke gently. “Politics. It seems that his majesty king Nerej wants to make an impression on his guests. I can only assume that the guests are high ranking Dratha as it is the Dratha who hates the Ashen people the most. The arena is not a place of fair competition, it is a political instrument meant to influence the mood of the subjects and guests of a king.”
Deep inside the catacombs of the arena was the area where the fighters would prepare themselves for their moment of fame. Rows of cages containing dangerous wild animals and Ghuls where stuck against one side of the catacombs while at the other side the equipment for the gladiators was stored. The smell of death, feces and sweat filled this dark and vile place as captain Eghani waited patiently for his turn to enter the arena. He checked if all the straps of his leather cuirass where attached properly and dropped his sand coloured cloak. Even beneath the arena floor, the roars of the crowd where well heard. The loud boohs indicated that the first fight didn’t end well for the crowds favourite.
A man approached the captain and spoke loudly. “It’s your turn. Follow me to the draw gate and don’t die too quickly. The crowd expect some nice action”

Sadrach followed the man in patience towards the tunnel. The sunlight from outside blinded the Guran-Kha for a moment as he approached the gate. As his eyes were starting to accustom to the light he watched how workers dragged away the last corpses. Some were Ghul, others might have been humans at some point. It was clear that the Ghuls won. As the works dragged the last corps inside the horn Fanfare blasted around the arena. The horns quickly died as the herald started to speak.

“Citizens and visitors alike. The first match is over but we have plenty of more instore for your entertainment. The next fight involves a crowd favourite who’s name alone makes other combatants tremble in fear. In honour of king Nerej, noble Souvereign and hosts of these games, Urek the Destroyer will once more show his strength in the area”

The crowd cheered in excitement as the first iron draw gate opened. A truly massive Oqer dressed in heavy metal armor entered arena floor. He raised his large two-handed axe into the air let a might roar slip from his lungs. Stirring up the crowds to even greater heights.  The herald quickly silenced the crowd with a hand gesture and continued to speak. “His challenger, hails from the Democratic League. A noble Guran-Kha warrior who has embraced the fighting spirits of his ancestor Feron. The noble Eghani!”

The drawgate opened and Sadrach Eghani entered the battlegrounds for the first time. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the size and noise of the place as thousands of spectators cheered or booed at the top of their lungs. The captain quickly regained his composure and walked towards the center of the arena. He scanned his opponent closely. The Oqer was nearly twice his size and at least twice his weight. With such strength one hit from that heavy axe would cut Sadrach in half. A dangerous fighter but not invincible. Oqers are naturaly slow and clumsy. The heavy armor and axe would slow Urek down even more. Not to mention that ways of attacking with a two handed axe where limited. 

Sadrach unseated his sword as the horns signalled the the start of the fight. Both fighters started to close in, grasping their weapons and readying themselves for engagement. The Oqer raised his axe above his head in order to perform a massive swing. But before he could start his swing, Urek felled a blade cut through the flesh in his right armpit. The moment the Oqer started to raise his axe, was the moment he presented an opportunity to his opponent. Sadrach had lunged forward only a split second later and cut the through the flesh, muscles, arteries and tendons of the Oqer’s right arm. Urek stepped forward and brought down his axe. To late he realized that Sadrach had already slipped behind him. The captain wasted not a single moment and placed a well-placed cut in the popliteal of the Oqer’s right leg.

The area went silent as Urek fell down to his knees. For a brief moment it felt like the thousands of people held their breath, wondering how it was possible that a big Oqer could be bested by a small Guran-Kha. Then loud cheers filled their air as the arena exploded. Soon the crowd started to chant “Death, death, death!” at the top of their lungs. Sadrach looked at the royal mezzanine and waited for the king of Farai to give the sign for the final blow.