Rhaak ate the bit of beef greedily, having nearly put a strain on his body during his last bout. His master, curse his name, often liked to dangle succulent food in front of him, promising Rhaak would get to eat such food once he was victorious. And then of course, during his match, he would see the same delectables being devoured before his eyes by Mal Jashe. It had gotten to the point that the young fighter nearly did not care anymore if he would be strung up in the streets with his eyes and tongue cut out for rebellion, if he could only kill that sweaty [i]manuke khara[/i]. 

He always felt like that day would be tomorrow, and then tomorrow it would be the day after. Sometimes, Rhaak believed he had forgotten his old life as a bandit, being reforged into the ideal pit fighter for the amusement of others. How could Hayashim let him continue as this? What sin had he committed? 

Once his meal was finished, he threw away the stripped bone to clatter along the coarse stonework. The calls and curses of the fellow slaves was an ever present companion down here, and it took him a moment to realize the hush that had fallen within the catacombs. Beside him, one of the older slaves in the cell over began to wail about the doom of the world, piercing the silence with cries that unnerved even the muscled young fighter. 

Suddenly, his master's simpering voice was heard down the hall, clearly attempting to impress a patron. The handsome and strong young slave lifted himself off of his chair, the only thing in the cell not covered in grime, to see one of the strangest sights. It was a woman, an incredibly beautiful one at that. Though something of her manner unnerved him, and when her eyes fell upon him he felt as if she could view into his very soul. 

"[i]This is the one[/i]," she said. Rhaak looked between her and Mal Jashe, expecting his Master to refuse her as he had the others when they had desired his company. But he instead only gave a weak denial, before his resolve shattered and Rhaak was called to the arena with two others. He was about to speak, his curiosity almost overriding his good sense. But he was only to speak when spoken to, and he was chained and dragged out into the pit with two other slaves. The first was a eunuch, bald headed and with a similar physique to Rhaak, though he was even slimmer and taller. The next was a great hairy beast of a man, with a beard that reached his chest. His hands had six fingers. 

"Yes yes, would you like them to fight my mistress?" Mal Jashe asked, rubbing his hands together, his eyes roaming her curvaceous anatomy when he believed she was not looking.  
[@Penny]