[b]"BRENNUS, BARBARIAN OF BRITANNIA!"[/b]

The screams, the jeers, the adulation. How had he ever lived without it?

Kicking up the sand beneath his bare feet, the blue painted gladiator span to receive all the Roman mob offered him. Oval shield lifted high, taunting the Latins with the swirling art of the Iceni people, he stubbed his spear into the ground and stood proudly, arrogantly even. He was so different to those silk strewn folk as to be almost alien, though of no great height his body rippled with muscle and scar stood out starkly on his tanned white skin. With ash rubbed through his hair to make it a white blonde and to stand it on head in a haphazard affair that only added to his odd appearance, he made an unusual sight even here in the arena. He wore only woollen trousers, with a belt on which he strapped the sheathed sword at his hip. Opting for pure mobility over armour of any sort was the way of some of his people, and the man known as Brennus intended to keep their memory alive, as long as he yet lived.

"Come then!" He roared in bastardised Latin, his toothy grin almost feral. It was that smile of anticipation his enemy would be faced with.