Dunkel Sonne [IC]

[Dr Archeville]

Place: Gygax-K-Omega-24: Nede

(Continued from Never Split the Party. OOC thread here.)

[GM/NPC Post]

The crimson streak appearing in the olive-tinged skies barely drew any attention from the people below, for they were either too downtrodden (the vast majority) or too engrossed in their own decadence to look up. Cruel overseers whipped and beat the countless slaves in their work on constructing the great ziggurat for their inhuman sorcerer-king, while the merchants and nobles entertained themselves by viewing the 'sports' of the gladiatorial pits, the blood of the combatants the only liquid the parched land had seen in months.

Far from the gladiatorial arena and the massive ziggurat sprawled the merchant district, filled with traders hawking all manner of wares. Most were humanoid, as were the customers, though not all were human; large mantis-men also prowled the dusty streets, looking to buy or trade. It was here that the crimson streak was seen, and here that panic set in as the people realized it was not passing overhead, but headed straight for them. The strange object slammed into one building, obliterating the small hut, leaving a trail of burning, warped brass and iron and wood strewn behind it. The merchants and beggars brave (or foolish) enough to not have run clear out of the district peeked out from behind their shelters, and slowly, warily approached the scene. Some reached for the metal scraps along the ground, knowing it would fetch a handsome price, while others went for the greater mass in the crater, and the tall blonde human stumbling about, sheathed in a fading blue glow.

Edited March 31, 2019 by Dr Archeville

[Dr Archeville]

Archeville staggered out from the crater, his flickering force field slowly solidifying back to its regular full power. "Any landing you can walk away from...."

He quickly shook off the dazed state, and looked around, taking in everything his senses could. Hotter than I was expecting... dry, too. Desert world? Recall study of single-biome planets... no, no, not now. Fairly primitive area.... simple clothing on natives... mostly humanoids, but a few insectoids. Communication should be easy, due to 'translation field' Professor Atom says exists- wait, no, there is a sun in the sky -- this is not the Terminus!

Okay, okay, think: wide assortment of wares in the shoppes. Merchant's district? Could be the best place to find information. Best to keep force field up, in case natives are hostile.

Archeville held up his hands, "hello, gentlefolks! I have come in search of someone, someone very dear to me. Would any of you happen to have seen a large woman, about yay high," he stood up on tip toes and put his hand as high up as he could.

I would need to hover up a few feet to give her true measurement, but I do not know if doing so would mark me as some sort of witch in these people's eyes. Best to keep things on the subtle side, for now.

More nobles, merchants, slaves and beggars crept out to see the strange pale-skinned man with long hair, who was apparently looking for a half-giant. And who had arrived in a craft made of fine, precious metal.

[Dr Archeville]

As Archeville moved to shoo away a beggar tentatively reaching out for a piece of Wells's craft, another ruckus from down one street began to draw people's attention. Two bald humans, a man and a woman, both in black cassocks with purple sashes, covered by gray scaly leather corsets, marched down the street, surrounded by seven giants nearly eight feet tall in armor made from the chitinous plates of some giant insect. Shutters and doors slammed as they passed, and the streets quickly cleared, the rabble darting behind stalls and tables, or running down alleys. Some of the giants peeled off from the group to chase the runners, hefting them up and tossing them into the center of the road, then stood to block the alleys so no more could flee.

"" the human man shouted, ""

"," a slightly portly merchant in a loose blue tunic protested as two smaller figures huddled behind him. "" The man faltered at the withering gaze of the bald woman, but he quickly rallied, ""

The woman turned to the man; a few furtive gestures passed between them. They knew the ziggurat project needed slaves... but their pockets needed lining. The woman turned back to the merchant, ""

The merchant sputtered, "" His protests were cut off by a giant's hands closing on around his head.

"" she said, voice dripping like tainted honey, "" Some of the giants chuckled at this.

The merchant shook his head (as much as he was able), and motioned for his two slaves out. They emerged, one a short and stocky man, bald but with a full beard, and the other a young, thin woman. Both wore little more than loincloths and a vest, and the girl looked like she'd not eaten a good meal in days.

[Dr Archeville]

Language seems vaguely Phoenician... Slaves? I- crap, they have already spotted me!

As more and more people were lined up against the walls, the two bald figures and two of their giants approached Archeville, and the remains of Wells's craft. "" the man called out, "

Best watch what I say, or they will conscript me for this ziggurat project. Perhaps my title would grant me some leeway.

"I am Doktor Viktor Archeville," he began, or that's what he hoped he'd said.

"" the man spat. "" he said, almost off-handedly, to the giants. Two of them stalked towards Archeville.

[Dr Archeville]

Not how I was hoping this would start. Still, I can easily- ah, no, my Belt's movement systems are out! Must have been a minor overload from the Defensive systems that shorted it out, or- oh, I can figure it out later!

Odds are good these people have never seen technology like mine, so a show of power should make them back off, at least enough for me to escape.

Archeville was quick on the draw, reaching into his labcoat to draw out his trusty Electromagnetic Screwdriver. A blade of blazing blue electricity sprang from one end, which he held up in a (he hoped) threatening pose. "Keep back! One blow from this shall cause neuromuscular incapacitation sufficient to cause immediate and unavoidable incapacitation! Back! Back!"

Many eyes turned to Archeville. The bald man actually did take a step back, causing his female companion to snort derisively. Four of the armored giants shifted on their feet, but three -- including the biggest one, prodding people around with a great club -- seemed unfazed.

[Dr Archeville]

The giant nearest Archeville -- who had been shaken by his threats -- drew a wicked-looking sword of obsidian and charged forward, but his swing missed Archeville by a wide margin.

The club-wielding one concentrated a moment, and his flesh warped and hardened, taking on a slightly warped appearance. He then charged forward, club held high, intending to bring it crashing down on the stranger's head, but Archeville proved too nimble. "" the giant growled out. He turned his head slightly and bellowed to the other soldier, ""

Another giant charged forward, arms wide to tackled Archeville, but the Doktor was still too agile a foe to strike.

"" the bald man called out, then began chanting. Archeville could not make out what he said, but he did recognize the name 'Kalak' uttered again and again... and then he heard nothing. No chants, no grunts, no murmurs or cries, nothing -- the entire area fell dead silent.

[Dr Archeville]

From among the indigents lined up against the wall, one man -- clad in grey scaly leathers, with a set of bone blades strapped to one wrist -- charged forward. He ran for one of the giants, and would normally be heard shouting exuberant challenges to them all if not for the mystical silence upon the field. His presence was not unnoticed, not by the giant he attacked, as he slashed at the slaver's legs, but the armored plates on his shins held strong.

The giant paid no attention to the man, and instead did as his commander ordered, charging towards Archeville, along with three other giants. They practically dove for him, kicking up dust from the parched unpaved roads; in moments Archeville was solidly held by them, one leg each by a giant and a third holding both uppers arms.

No! This cannot... this is not how-

[Dr Archeville]

Archeville tried to speak, but the strange silence field was still up. The woman strode forward, satisfied smile on her lips, and looked Archeville over. She did not know what magic this man had, but she saw the aura around him matched the glow of the strange belt her wore. She traced her fingers over it, and soon it was off, leaving him largely defenseless. Archeville struggled to get free, but his efforts failed, even when amplified by the adrenaline rush at seeing a fourth giant approach. It looked down on Archeville, and grinned, then rammed one giant fist into his stomach. All breath (and his breakfast) fled him, but before the giant could pull back for another blow, it was clear the foreigner was unconscious.

One giant flung Archeville over his shoulders, like a sack of potatoes, while others rounded up the new slaves, or scooped up metal detritus from the ground. Soon the streets were cleared, left to the merchants and few nobles, and the pres gang headed back to the ziggurat that dominated the center of the city.

[Dr Archeville]

The great ziggurat towered hundreds of feet in sharp-edged splendor above the squalor of the sun-baked city. Each level of the terraced pyramid was finished in glazed brick of a different color: gleaming violet at the base, then indigo, azure, green, yellow, fiery orange, and, finally, scarlet. In the center of the huge structure, a pair of mighty bastions marked each of the seven levels. The bastions flanked an enormous staircase, which ran straight from base to summit, reaching for the flaxen moons that hovered over the monument's lofty crown, infusing the crimson skies with an amber blush. Not but darkness could be seen inside, though how much of this was due to the obsidian covering the interior walls, ceilings and floors, and how much was due to Kalak's malign presence, none would dare say.

When Archeville came to, they had reached the slave pens and pits, immediately east of the great ziggurat. The surrounding brickyards and the high eastern sandstone wall of the city created the perfect enclosure for keeping slaves. The pens themselves, where slaves rested between workshifts, were surrounded by a 20 foot tall wall, with guard towers located in each corner. He spied six pits along the western side of the pen, which he first thought were lavatory pits, but the pitiable moans from within indicated there for disobedient slaves... and excrement. A templar's platform and gibbet (a gallows for execution and display of the bodies as a warning) were set to either side of the narrow gate, the only way in and out of the slave pens. Outside the gate the kitchens and water trough had been constructed for the meager needs of the slave workers.

[Dr Archeville]

Need to get my bearings. Seems the ziggurat is constructed in such a way that the sun will passed through the crown at the top. So I am to the east of it now. I was carried from some sort of merchant's area, which would be to the north; south is some manner of... arena? And a golden tower beyond. And a huge mountain range behind the ziggurat, to the west. I-

Archeville's brief scan was interrupted when the giant who carried him flung him to the ground with dozens of other conscripts. With surprising speed and callous efficiency, more giant guards manhandled them, stripping them of all clothes and tossing them to piles along the sides of the procession; more black cossacked officials sorted through the clothing, pocketing or distributing whatever seemed interesting before ordering the rest to be tossed onto bonfires. What protestations were voiced -- which were less than Archeville expected -- were either ignored or met with a strong backhand.

Have to get my Belt and Screwdriver back from them, but I cannot do much in this condition. Perhaps I can persuade the guards I would be of more use outside the slave pits, in some manner of scholarly position.

"Ah, yes, excuse me," he began, trying any guard or official who might listen, "I think there has been a mistake. I am a Doktor, you see, and would be much better suited-"

The naked slaves -- including Archeville, now sporting a nasty black eye -- were marched and shoved towards another set of giants, flanking a trio of bald, short, stocky humanoids (dwarves? they lack beards, though), who proceeded to shave off all hair from the head and face, using oil and razors made from obsidian.

My hair!

Yes, I am in shock, as I am trying not to dwell on how damnably familiar this all looks!

My labcoat! Oh, wow, they are going through every single pocket in it. And seem really, really taken with all the metal and weapons.

Once done, the freshly-shorn slaves were shoved towards another set of giant guards flanking another trio of humanoids, who handed out simple clothing (loincloths or shrifts), a blanket and small waterskin, then they were herded into the slave pits proper. Here, taskmasters assembled the slaves and assigned each to a work crew commanded by an overseer.

Maybe those officials will pull me out of here, ask about my gear? Even shorn and dressed in these rags, I should be easy for them to pick out, given my pale and un-scarred skin.

[Dr Archeville]

“” He spat at the Doktor’s feet, “” He snorted again, “” The taskmaster jerked his head to one side, and one of the giants nearby lumbered over and roughly steered Archeville towards the brickyards.

Okay, forming bricks, this works well: I'll be in one spot, easier to think and plan and plot my way out. The first duty of any prisoner or slave is escape, so I-

“” a voice called out. Archeville thought nothing of it -- what friends did he have left, especially here? -- but the sounds of approaching disorder, as the speaker shoved aside slave and overseers alike out of his way, lead the Doktor to the inescapable conclusion the words were directed at him. He saw it was the man from the crash site, who had attacked the giants who teamed up on him. “” he called out again, arms wide as if to embrace Archeville.

The embrace never came, for guards from along the walls rushed down to restore order, knocking the man down (not before he took down three of theirs) and carrying him off to some unknown punishment. Archeville was also prodded along, towards the brickyard. He was brought to a work station, where a trough of mud mixed by one worker provided the material he was to use, and a pallet to place the formed bricks on, which he would haul to the kiln to fire. "" the giant growled before heading back to the taskmaster, "" he added with a lopsided grin.

[Dr Archeville]

“ the man stirring mud asked. He was more tanned than Archeville, but considerably less so than most of the others he’d seen, and his long nails indicated that he was a recent conscript not accustomed to harsh manual labor.

Same language as the others, though the accent and sentence structure are slightly different.

Archeville shook his head, “” Given how often he’d heard the word screamed, whimpered and moaned, it was the first one he’d learned. “”

“” he said, tone shifting. “” he gave a slight bow, though not enough to disrupt his mud-mixing. “”

Sentence structure seems closer to Latin. I wonder if this is some common trade tongue he is using, with slight variations based on home region?

“” Archeville said as he fished out globs of mud and began forming bricks. “”

Who is in charge, how they exert power, how hard it would be to overthrow the ones keeping these people enslaved and institute different policies. Surely there must be a way... right? I cannot just leave these people here in this condition! I will not!

“”

Herminard’s eyes widened, then he tried desperately to stifle a laugh. “”

“” he said solemnly. “”

Herminard sniffed, “”

[Dr Archeville]

Herminard filled Archeville in on much about the city and world beyond, speaking of savage deserts, wastelands of majestic desolation, and city-states of cruel splendor ruled by god-like Sorcerer-Kings. (And that their guards were merely half-giants.) But in speaking of the world, the bard spoke much of himself as well. “” he sighed exaggeratedly, and gestured back to the ziggurat, “”

Archeville grunted as he laid a final brick onto the pallet for the kiln, then wiped his brow as he looked up to the bloated red orb hanging overhead. “

“”

Archeville made a sound, half a grunt, half a sigh.

Luckily for me my nanites will help stave off the effects of dehydration and malnutrition, but for the thousands of others out there...

“” He shook his head as calculations were made in a flash, “”

“” Herminard finished, in a very matter-of-fact tone. “” he shrugged and shook his head, “”

[Dr Archeville]

Archeville continued to work and listen to Herminard’s tales, keeping an eye and ear on his surroundings. Atrocity after atrocity passed before his eyes: slaves whipped and beaten to unconsciousness by cruel overseers, overseers stripped of ranks and thrown into the slave pits with their former charges when quotas were not met, slaves fighting one another for a few precious drops of water. All was overseen by the giant guards and the black cossacked templars, who wielded dark and terrible magic granted by Kalak the Terrible in the course of their duties. Some slaves did try to make a break for it, making mad scrambles for the city walls, or out the slave pen entrance to the merchant’s districts, but they were always caught, and either killed or thrown into the latrine pits.

And all of which he had to let go on, as he saw he had no way to immediately help, not that he was in much condition to do so. Stripped of his gear, parched from the incredible heat, the only liquid he had all day was some watery mud from Herminard’s trough, though even that lead to a few lashes from the overseer’s whip across his badly sunburned back.

Just need to make it to tonight. Should get much cooler then, and there will be food. Not much, from what Herminard says, but better than nothing. Then I will have the time to think and plan. Perhaps talk to some others, get more than one bard’s view on things.

[Dr Archeville]

At last the great crimson sun did set, and the overseers inspected their crews’ work. Some who had met their assignments were given additional work, since they could obviously handle the load; others, who fell behind in their assignments, were mercilessly beaten. Those who fell in the middle ground -- which Archeville had been sure to stay in, knowing that staying unobtrusive would allow him the most freedom -- were shoved towards the meal tent, where they were given a small bowl of worm-infested, muddy-looking gruel and another ration of water.

“” he asked, trying to bring some cheery small talk to his workmate. When he turned to see who it was, it was not Herminar'ds eyes that met his, but a pair of compound eyes: it was one of the mantis-men, the kind he’d seen used in hauling multiple loads with their four arms up the ziggurat. The mantis-man cocked its head to the left, then the right, then stared straight at him. Further down the line, he saw a figure waving at him -- the strange man who had tried to meet him earlier that day. Herminard was nowhere to be seen.

Archeville soon got his bowl, and barely made it out of the tent before devouring it, extreme hunger overriding any reservation over the safety of the meal. He became aware that the mantis-man had followed him; it had a bowl of the same gruel, but was seemingly too focused on him to eat it. Archeville moved to say something, but before he could, a passing slave carrying a vat of gruel was knocked off-balance by two brawling women, blanketing slop on both Archeville and the mantis-man!

[Dr Archeville]

The two women wore the same simple garments the other slaves did, but in their hands were weapons. The more aggressive one, a tanned brunette, lashed at her foe with a set of bolas, using them more as bludgeons than restraints. The other, a tall redhead with the elongated features and slightly pointed ears of a half-elf, used a simple quarterstaff to hold her attacker at bay.

“I’m stronger, faster, and tougher than you!” the brunette screamed, “I should be the one fighting at Tachandral’s side!”

“Kanla, please, stop!” the redhead shouted back, trying to push her attacker away with her staff. “I don’t want to fight at his side, I told the pitmaster that; you are the better-”

“Damned right I am!,” she spat, punctuating her words with a right cross to her target’s jaw. In a flash she was on the dazed woman, wrapping her bolas around her neck and began strangling her. “And after I kill you, Vaerhirmana, everyone will see I’m a better match for him than you!”

[Dr Archeville]

No! I am through seeing such barbarism play out around me! I can intervene here, and I shall!

Talk of fighting, and access to weapons could mean they are gladiators. Movements indicate training or long practice. Easiest to separate combatants, subdue antagonizer if necessary.

Archeville quickly scraped the slop off his face and hands, then moved in to Kanla’s right. He grabbed her arm, twisting up to ease her stranglehold, then down so she released her prey. Kanla spun around and snapped at him, then brought her other arm around for a let cross, but he ducked down (releasing her arm in the process) enough to evade the hit. “Stay out of this, or I’ll kill you, too!”

“” he grunted in his native German as he sprung back up, slipping both arms under hers and bringing his hands back up to her throat, under her chin. He pushed, making her bend backwards at a disadvantageous angle.

Pressure point should be near here, assuming anatomy comparable to Earth-Prime humans.

[Dr Archeville]

Meanwhile, the mantis-man, having wiped gruel off its compound eyes, turned towards the slave who had carried the large bucket of slop. A few drops of drool -- actually venom -- trickled down its mouth, and it darted in to bite him; he frantically darted back to get away, at one point hopping backwards as he kicked away. This brought his foot to the mantis-man's reach; when it bit down, it appeared to chomp down on his big toe, but merely grazed it.

The slop-carrier screeched, sure his toe had been bitten off, but the strange man who had been trying to see Archeville dashed in and interposed between him and the mantis-man, facing the bug-man. “Oh, you don’t want to do that, my friend! Hardly any meat on him!” He turned and nodded to the slave, who was already hopping away. “Come, come, let us get you cleaned up,” he said, though his attention -- and the mantis-man’s -- had turned back to Archeville.

Vaerhirmana backed away from Kanla and Archeville, rolling up to a standing crouch, and moved behind the two onlookers. She looked on them both, and called up a power deep within her, focusing it on her attacker to aid the strange man. They did not remain the only audience for long: a crowd quickly formed around them, of slaves and the giant guards. “Five to one she brains him,” one grumbled to another.

[Dr Archeville]

Kanla, showing precisely why you should pin someone from behind, spat in Archeville’s face as she forced herself back up, hurling curses at him all the while. The two continued their deadly dance for some time, for a time his applied knowledge and intellect seeming a match for her training and superior strength. At one point she wrenched herself completely free from his grasp, and spun to land a double-fisted haymaker against him, but he leaned to the side enough to clear her swing, then darted around behind her and put her in a sleeper hold.

Superior position. Should fare better n- odd, she is of-balance due to pulling to one side more than she should. Pulled by... telekinesis! I am being aided, but by... ah, by Vaerhirmana. Perhaps that is why she was paired with Tachandral.

“” he hissed (still in German) in her ear. “”

“Vaerhirmana! I'll... get...” she screamed, near-incoherent with rage, but the combination of his joint lock the the telekinetic aid kept her bound fast. “I’m... better... than... that-”

Her rant was cut off once Archeville had found the proper pressure points on her to knock her out. Several people in the crowd cheered, several booed and cursed.

So much... for regaining... my strength...

The crowd dispersed as guards whipped things back into order; one hefted Kanla over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carted her off. Archeville was left to stand alone, perhaps as a prize from the guards, leaving him to find some spot in which to fall unconscious. But he was not alone for long.

[Dr Archeville]

No sooner had Archeville found an empty spot to rest (not a sheltered spot, as those had already been claimed, just an empty patch of ground out of kicking distance from anyone else), the strange man who had been trying to lag down Archeville since he arrived approached, accompanied by a mantis-man. Archeville saw, based on the patterning and arrangement of spines on its shell, it was the same one from the slop line. The man was smiling, and greeted Archeville with a friendly hug; the mantis-man looked about nervously, though perhaps the twitchiness was typical for it.

“” the man roared. A grunt from one of the half-giant guards, and a weary glance from Archeville, made him lower his tone. “” He reached into the folds of his loincloth and brought out a small flask. “”

Archeville did detect a sweet, alcoholic smell, but knew it would do little for his dehydration. He also knew next to nothing of this strange man. “” he whispered, “”

“” the man cheerfully replied. “” he slapped Archeville on his (very sunburned) back.

AHHHHHHH!!!

Would he still think that if he knew what had transpired these past few months?

“” he said through clenched teeth, “”

“” he waved a hand aside, “” he jabbed the mantis-man in the thorax with one elbow.

[Dr Archeville]

The mantis-man had been looking down on Archeville, turning its head 90 degrees left and right to study him. At Eramas’ jab, it spoke, “

“”

The mantis-man shudder-nodded, “”

“” he replied slowly, shaking off the strong desire to simply slump down and fall unconscious, “”

“” the mantis-man repeated. “”

“” Eramas exclaimed, drawing another grunt form a half-giant guard. He slapped both Archeville and T’Kkyl hard on the backs, “”

“” Reasonably certain Eramas was not going to shank him, or T’Kkyl chomp on him, Archeville curled up in the dirt and was soon unconscious.

[Dr Archeville]

The bloated crimson sun swelled over the horizon too soon, replacing the chill of night with rapidly rising temperatures. Archeville awoke to the shouts of overseers and moans of mistreated slaves, but it was the sight of T’Kkyl staring down at him that startled him the most. The Doktor quickly rose, and looked for but found no sign of Eramas.

“

The mantis-man cocked his head, “”

“<... of course you do not>” he replied with an exasperated sigh.

Really need to get out of here. But the work pace is so maddening I can barely get a bead on things. I see some of the guards have the metal weapons from my lab coat, but the coat itself, and Screwdriver and Belt, are still missing. I have not yet seen them on any of the Templars in charge; they may have them, and I have just not seen, or they may have passed them on to some higher-up in hopes pf earning favor.

[Dr Archeville]

As Archeville trudged towards the water station, then trudged towards the ziggurat, T’Kkyl skittered ahead to the brickworks, and took up position next to a mud-mixing trough. The Doktor soon saw Eramas and Herminard; the former waved to him as he was steered towards brick-hauling duty, while Herminard nodded curtly as he resumed his place at his mud trough. Before Archeville took his place at the brick-forming station, a distant but familiar voice filled the air. “” Turning, Archeville saw Vaerhirmana, who was pointing Archeville out to a squat dwarf in piecemeal armor made from assorted giant insect shells and scaly leathers. Three half-giants, in similar armor, stood around them. Two of the half-giants wielded obsidian clubs, the third an obsidian sword, butt he dwarf’s weapon -- a trio of blades strapped to one forearm -- were of gleaming metal.

The five approached, the half-giants pushing aside other half-giant guards. The dwarf strode right up to Archeville, glaring with black eyes under a bulging, hairless brow, close enough for Archeville to smell the meat on his breath. “”

“” Archeville replied plainly. “”

The dwarf snorted again, and looked back to Vaerhirmana. “”

“” she replied, speaking sweetly but staring daggers at him. She broke off her stare to glance around the area -- somewhat nervously, Archeville noted -- then glanced over at one of their half-giant guards, and he gave a small bag to one of the brickyard’s half-giant guards. “”

Archeville began to protest, but a glare from Oghran lead him to think silence was the better option.

“” Oghran grunted, “” One of his half-giants reached over and grasped Archeville’s arm an pulled him away form the brickmaking station, and marched him out of the slave’s area.

“” Herminard called out. “”

[Dr Archeville]

The great arena was directly south of the ziggurat, and was filled with training areas. Archery ranges at one wall were used to both train one’s aim and one’s ability to dodge arrows; Archeville saw one fail at the latter and was quickly carried off to the side, and dumped against a small hut where other injured fighters slumped. The half-giant’s hand on him prevented him from going to their aid, instead leading him where Oghran directed: past a sparring ring surrounded by fire, to a large ten-foot-deep pit, with caged doors at either end, and a retractable wooden ramp along one side. “” Oghran nodded towards a few weapons racks holding wood, bone, and stone weapons, “”

Archeville saw Vaerhirmana pale at his words. He looked over the weapons, choosing a simple wooden quarterstaff, then walked back to the ramp and peered in, trying to get a glimpse at the beast. He could make out a low growling coming from one of the cages, but could see nothing from this angle. “

Ogran scowled and glared at Vaerhirmana. “” he growled. She composed herself and simply shrugged, which made him growl again. “” he said as he swung around and swept Archeville’s legs from out under him, sending him tumbling down the ramp! The half-giants quickly drew back the ramp, while one of the cage doors slid open!

[Dr Archeville]

Really need to get out of here...

Okay, best make this look good: a gladiator’s life may be marginally easier than that of a slave, but being a gladiator is as much about how you look, your presence, as it is about combat skill.

“” Oghran spat. “”

Archeville leaped to his feet, and flashed his best Jack of all Blades-esque smile at Oghran and Vaerhirmana. He quickly looked back to the opened cage, studying every shadow and glimmer of light with a superhumanly keen intellect.

There is something in there, but it has some manner of visual distortion field. I can still hear it moving about, though. Will it charge or try to sneak around me? From what I have seen of this world’s brutality, it will likely charge, so I had best get ready. And perhaps some trash-talk, for the audience.

He twirled his staff overhead, quickly bringing one end down and setting it to intercept the charging beast. “”