The warriors of the Celtic people the brave and strong. Stand with Ambon on their final battleground and their final resting place. A sea of Romans marched toward his army. Ambon's men were tired and the Romans were fresh. Ambon's only hope was to kill the general and route the dogs back to Rome its self. Ambon led a valiant attack and killed the general, but the men did no route, soon his army was gone and he was on his way to be sold to some Roman dogs in Capua. "Sold to the gladiator handler in the back." said the slaver. "Watch this one he bites." warned the slaver to Ambon's new master.

Three months ago, near the boarder.

"What do you mean I'm being transferred back to the capital!" Gnaeus almost shouted. His hand clenched the desk in front of him so tight that it nearly crack under the pressure. During the fourteen months he'd spent in Germanic campaign General Gnaeus Rupilius Purpurio had managed to distinguish him greatly as a commander. His battle record thus far had been near flawless. Twice he'd managed to force back counter-invasion forces from the local tribes. The heads of two tribal warlords had been claimed thanks to him, and a third particularly troublesome one now bound in chains and headed for Rome after Gnaeus had managed to salvage the near disastrous siege of Mogontiacum. At this point he was almost a hero in Rome's eyes, and proving to be an invaluable commander for the campaign. So why were they sending him away?

The newly appointed Marshal responded calmly and plainly while carefully avoiding meeting Gnaeus's eyes. "There have been reports of unrest from the islands off the mainland near the capital. We need someone capable there encase things get out of hand."

"But those islands are under the jurisdiction of the Brutii family. They have a fleet patrolling those waters, I know they do." Gnaeus argued. He tried to find some behind this ridiculous redeployment. It seemed counterproductive to start pulling generals this far into the campaign. "Even if there was a rebellion, they could easily blockade the isles 'till more troops were available."

"Yes," The marshal responded slowly, as if thinking over his response. "But with the situation as it is I- the senate believes that it would be best if we have someone of capable command in the region should anything happen."

There it was. That brief slip of the tongue when he said "I". That was it. Gnaeus's eyes narrowed. The previous campaign field Marshal had died during the battle at Mogontiacum. This new one had risen to take the position quickly. Gnaeus hadn't really cared at the time. As long as the marshal allowed the army commanders their own discretion on their engagements he didn't see any reason to make a grab for the chain of command. Apparently that was a mistake. This man, like many other fat, lazy greedy bigots Gnaeus had dealt with over the years, was a more of a politician then a officer. The kind of person who put their own agendas before the military's.

The reason why Gnaeus was being transferred was because this cowardly, greedy little swine was afraid of him. Specifically that Gnaeus might replace him.

Gnaeus, long since used to the game of back stab that was politics, was forced to relent. Without any weight behind his arguments, or anything to blackmail the other man into submission, any disagreement he made would be seen as going against the orders of the senate.

"Very well." He said, fighting the urge to growl. "When am I too leave?"

"By tomorrow mourning, hopefully." The marshal turned away as Gnaeus shot him a foul look at 'Hopefully'. Gnaeus turned to leave, ready to storm out of the tent when the Marshal stopped him. "Well don't look so glum about it Gnaeus. I hear the next gladiator games will be held soon. Perhaps you could go and place a bet. Pretend your a real commander directing them."

The mocking tone in the marshals voice was deafening.

This time Gnaeus didn't bother to respond. He marched out of the tent quickly before the urge to run a sword through the other man's gullet took over. Gnaeus stomped through the camp, a look of murder in his eyes that sent wiser soldiers scurrying out of his way.

It would be a shame for the Marshal if, in his anger, Gnaeus 'forgot' to mention the report of a possible Germanic force preparing to try and retake Mogontiacum before he and his soldier left.

Decimus was seated in a wagon. His hands bound in iron shackles and chained to the bench along with seven other prisoners all headed to the same place, Rome. Depending on who purchased them some were destined for the mines, others for the arena. Decimus had no doubt which would be his fate. His size and imposing figure coupled with his military background was just the sort of thing Lanista loved. The man beside him was a tiny little cunt. Too small to even carry a sword. Decimus was sure this tiny man was sure to either end up in a brothel or a mine. The man beside Decimus must have noticed the bigger man looking for that was all it took to get him to start talking.

"A-Are they going to kill us?? They aren't going to kill us are they? Are we to be hung? Please, Jupiter..."

"Save your fucking prayers worm. We will not day this day. We are headed to the market to be sold. You will soon meet your new Dominus."

Apparently Decimus' words brought hope to the man for he soon perked up.

"We'll live? You say we'll live??"

"For now..."

Decimus grunted.

"What do you mean? If they pay for us they would lose coin if they killed us."

The big man chuckled.

"You are not worth more than two denari you little woman. I'm certain they would not hesitate to end your life if it pleased them. It's how Romans are."

The man looked at Decimus in fear and confusion.

"B-But you have the mark of the legion on your arm. Are you not Roman."

Decimus turned to the tiny man with a wicked grin.

"Ofcourse... I'm the worst one."

10 years ago, location: the roman encampment near the border outside of Capua.

"Number 23 step forward so that we may decree a proper roman name for you. It says here under your birth name you listed ??????.
and you are from Numidia, is that correct?"

-snickering-

"Is something funny? if you knew what kind of life awaited for you, you wouldn't find humor in the situtation"

"....."

A roman legionnaire turning to the namewright, whispering into the other mans ear " I don't think he speaks our language"

-The slave retorting "I understand...Rome. It is you who doesn't understand..."

-eyebrow raising- So the slave speaks after all? Why then enlighten us of the details surrounding your capture?

-Drawing breath, the mans eyes closed allowing himself to recount the experience as best he could in his own thoughts -"It was during the twilight of the eve in which the sun began to set to welcome the moon and stars. I was recently appointed high general of the Numidian army and I was a bit confident in my ability to lead,
perhaps a bit too confident. After pushing forth various successful military campaigns . We had gained back much of the land previously lost to the Roman empire.
I wasn't content with just a deadlock gain. I wanted to push further and claim all land held by the roman empire and expel the roman presence from the continent in its entirety. A source of mine informed me that the Romans were at their weakest and could be overcome before reinforcements arrived. It was the perfect opening, so I thought...that inside source of mine ended up turning traitor selling out his fellow countrymen for a promise of status and wealth as a roman citizen.
By this time, a separate flank of the roman soldiers had set managed to slip past my army and set upon my village. There they set fire to the village, when we saw the smoke signals, I ordered a retreat, but by then it was too late. It was a trap set to surround us on both sides. My men fought valiantly but we were unable to fend ourselves. Instead of sacrificing the remainder of my men, I ordered a surrender. The rest you can say is history"



Namewright: I think I came up with a proper roman name for you, you will be known as Jordanius Mikhail.

"All right you lot. Out!"

The legionnaire barked at Decimus and the other slaves. The all rose and walked out in a somber, single file line. Decimus stood tall, looming over the other slaves. His eyes scanning the crowd. Who would it be? He wondered as the were led to the small wooden stand to be displayed. Many of the eyes were already on the mammoth of a man standing there. The numerous scars on his body marked him as a warrior if his body type wasn't enough. He stood firm and resolute. His face was stone. The little man beside him was deep in fervent prayer to every God he could think of. Decimus shook his head and ignored him. The bidding began and people started shouting out for the slaves they wanted. 50 Denari, 100 Denari, 200 Denari. It seemed like the bidding was getting well underway. Decimus just stood there and waited without a word. One slave was bought, then another. The little worm beside him was purchased for less than you'd buy a goat by a fat, bulbous man. The sight of the scrawny man being hauled off to no doubt service the pig's base most animal desires brought a chuckle to the big Roman.

The Dominus and his guards were leading Ambon and a few other men down the street most likely to the lotus were they would train to become a gladiator. The streets of Capua smelled like shit and piss. Nothing like his home, his home
smelled like nature like trees, fresh water, and the smell of dirt being plowed for the growing season. Capua just smelled like sweat, blood, and tears. Some of the men behind Ambon were in tears, but most walked with there heads held high looking like they were ready to fight for there lives. The smells were starting to subside as the walked out of the city to the lotus. The high gates of the lotus were now in view making escape seem more and more of just a dream.
The lotus its self smelled like piss and fresh blood. As Ambon entered the older gladiators started to cuss at and intimidate the new comers. "None of these new men look like anything more than sacks of shit!" one yelled out from the crowd. The slaves seemed to be in some kind of trance, just yelling out the first things that came to mind. Ambon and the new slaves lined up and the Doktore stepped up to speak, yell, or whip the newcomers Ambon did not really know.


OOC: Guys most of this story is going to take place in capua so after your first post change to Capua on where you say you are.

Decimus had been bought buy a Lanista as he'd expected and now found himself in Capua. He was in line with several other new acquisitions and was being led into the ludas. Decimus glared at the gladiators as the all cursed and shouted at them. He imagined himself crushing the skulls of most of these men. He stood in line and glanced at the men to his left and his right. Romans, Gauls, Greeks, Spaniards, Numidians. Slaves from all over. Time would tell if any of these new recruits would survive. Decimus growled low under his breath as he steeled himself to be among the lucky few. The Doctore had stepped out. His eyes critically scanning each man. His eyes fell on Decimus and seemed unimpressed. Decimus growled again. He'd prove to the fool he was worth more than a quick glance.

Tavish was pushed forward into line with the other men he turned to the guard who had hauled him here from the coast. He had grown quite fond of the man who was a young recruit near his own age, over the months it had taken them to reach Capua he had imparted much of the Roman language upon Tavish.

"Well friend it was a pleasure, this will certainly be a better occupation then all those nights I serviced your mother in the brothel."

The man chuckled heartily and smack Tavish a decent wallop across the back.

"Well Pict it's been fun having a tamed beast as a companion. And just be glad you didn't meet my mother in that brother, youd've came out uglier then you are now if such a thing was possible."

As Tavish joined the line he watched the young legionare march stiffly back to his platoon with a slightly heavier purse that would no doubt be taxed heavily by his commander. Shaking his head sadly Tavish eyed the men surrounding him, several others stood in the line. Each man looked no more resolute then the last, as if every ounce of hope had been drained as they stood grimly accepting their inevitable fate. On the opposite end of the line stood a giant of a man whose stature intimidated even the young pict. It wasn't often he came upon someone who was broader then he, if only slightly.

Suddenly all was quiet as a tall Numidian man stepped out of a small wooden building.

Decimus stared impatiently as he waited for the Doctore to begin. He just continued to stare silently at the raw recruits. No doubt attempting to unnerve them. Decimus stood there with a stoic expression. He was twice this man's size and could could snap his spine over his knee like a twig Pluto would have to bend over and shit from the sky before he would fear this Numidian.

OOC: Okay the guy aint coming so I'll just speak for him... For right this second I am the doktore.

"Hello men from now on I am your teacher." said the Doktore. "I am also your mother, your father, and your torture." he said slightly raising his voice. "You will work, you will sweat, and I will break most of you!" He yelled. "Forget all that you once learned for I am better and I know the way to victory in the arena, I have battled over a hundred times in the arena and hey look i'm still breathing." the Doktore yelled. "So shall we just get this out of the way, I will fight anyone of you right now and show you how much better I really am, so who challenges me?" He yelled. "Oh and remember anyone who challenges me and loses goes without supper tonight." He said in a slightly softer voice. "How about you big boy your look pretty stupid, would you like to go without supper tonight?" The Doktore inquired to Decimus.

Decimus couldn't help but allow a wicked grin to dawn on his face as he stepped out of line. He took a step forward his eyes ever on Doctore. His gaze seemed hungry, like a chained dog who smelled blood. A slave rushed over and unshackled Decimus. Once his hands were free the big Roman rolled his neck casually then did the same to his shoulder, working out the crampness from being in chains for the past few days.

"If you want to be bent over like a bitch in front of all your men, I'd be happy to oblige old man."

The big, bald Roman said. Decimus was easily twice the instructors height and size. The big man's mind flashed to the fight to come. Overly brief, blunt and ending up with the broken body of the Numidian lying in the dirt at his feet. The ex Legionnaire had no idea how wrong he was about to be. Decimus balled up his fist and through a massive swing at Doctore's head.

The Doktore didn't move he just shot out his hand and grabbed the huge man by his elbow. Then he kicked Decimus right across the kneecap tearing several tendons and making it so the Decimus could not walk. Then the Doktore spun around and kicked the man in the back of the head, knocking him out instantly. "You two bring him to the doctor." The Doktore said to two slaves. "Now the rest of you go eat and drink, this is the last food you will have for the next 3 days." The Doktore yelled.

Decimus woke several hours later to a throbbing pain in his head and knee. He shot up with a snarl and grabbed the nearest living thing to him. A tiny, elderly doctor. The healer looked terrified half out of shock by the sudden movement by his now awake patient.

"What happened?! Where am I?!"

Decimus barked. The big Roman had the a handful of the physicians shirt and was holding him several inches off the ground.

"Y-your in the healer lad, Doctore gave you a good thrashing. I just finished patching you up."

It took a few moments for the words to register with Decimus. When they had he let the doctor drop unceremoniously.

"Jupiters cock, that old bastard can kick like a mule."

Decimus sighed laying back down. The doctor breathed a sigh of relief before taking a bowl of some foul smelling salve and applying it to Decimus' knee.

"I've seen him do the same thing to many a new recruit. Tends to pick the biggest and most dangerous to prove a point."

"What point?"

Decimus grunted.

"That it matters not who you were outside these walls. Within the walls of this ludas you are nothing until you have proven yourself in the arena."

Decimus grunted again but this time in understanding. The big man was silent for several more minutes before curiosity got the better of him.

"What that there you're putting on my knee?"

"Yak urine."

Decimus sat up again. He had half a mine to punch the tiny man. Then he sighed and layed back down.

"Course it is."

"The urine is boiled and mixed with herbs. It's bringing the swelling down. You'll be able to walk again without much issue tomorrow. Your knee will be fine."

Decimus nodded and closed his eyes allowing sleep to take him. He would not often have the opportunity for rest in Capua so he'd better take advantage of it while he could.

Ambon walked over to the table were there was a frail slave serving some kind of mush in a bowl and some murky looking water. Ambon shrugged and grabbed a bowl and a drink for he had eaten far worse during the war. Ambon walked
over to an empty table and sat down. He started to wolf down his food and started to wonder what they would be doing when the training began. Ambon looked around at the gladiators, none looked to be that fierce, but looks could be deceiving. The Pict looked to be a bow man based on the fact that his upper body was huge, and that big one just seemed to be a stupid brute. It looked as though Ambon would not have any trouble becoming top dog here. Though the other new recruits may show them selves to be much smarter than Ambon had hoped, but for right now he thinks it's best to make some friends. Ambon walks over to the Pict and greets him with a, "Hello may I sit beside you?"

Recognizing the Gaulish accent Tavish lifted his head from his bowl and stared for a moment at the man.

"Listen neighbor I forgive me if I seem rude, but our people don't necessarily mix too well. The last time we did those bastard Celts emerged and I wouldn't wish those fucks on anyone....Ceasare's propaganda or not but we draw the line at running into battle naked."

As he stood Tavish extended his hand to the other man he gave him a once over. He was slightly taller but quite a bit thinner than Tavish. The man was powerfully built and had the look of a man used to being respected and followed.

"Tell you what you, me and that big bastard in the tent over there may have a shot at getting out of here alive...I don't know about you but someday I'd like to lie with a woman on my own terms, I'll be damned if the use of my manhood is ever bargained for by one of these Roman Cows ever again. And I dream to hunt freely again, I've got a mother I need to bring a deer home too."

Gnaeus wanted to spit on something. The stench of Capua was an affront to his Ideals of what roman city should be like. It was dirty, mud and trash splattered around lower class districts like some mob of pigs had been raised in it's streets. This wasn't the Roman empire he grew up listening to his fathers tales about. In that version of Rome even slave could expect to live better then this. Of course the Roman empire he lived in now was little more then a glorified game board for nobles and to play around on and play grabs at the senates favor. Gnaeus spat on the road, leaving the poorer district. The further he was from this constant reminder of Rome's apparent inability to remember its citizens the better.

His mind returned to why he was here. He had brought a small contingent of soldiers with him on his way to re-garrison the capital. Not much just a couple hundred, gods know they senate would be panicking and thinking he was attempting a coup his he brought any more. After three months of marching the General had decided to stop over in Capua for a few days. His troops needed to rest and a little leaser time would improve their mood. That and Gnaeus had a cousin in the city here named Mamercus that he thought he'd visit. Mamercus owned a small ludus in the city, and invited Gnaeus to to come watch his team in the arena sometime. Though Gnaeus still felt annoyed at the comment that the marshal had given him when he left the front lines, Gnaeus decided to take his cousin up on that offer. He needed to blow off some steam, and watching a few slaves beat each other bloody might help with that.

While on the subject of slaves, Gnaeus happened to pass by the auction market. The general probably could use a servant at the moment, someone to manage his documents and look after his equipment. That and if he was going to be stuck in the capital for a while it would probably help to have someone maintain the cleaning around the house, it would certainly make his new wife less irritable.

Gnaeus dismounted his horse and left it to the stable hands to look after. He entered the auction house already about to start and sat down. Sit in his armor, it was understandable that the man next him shifted uncomfortably but the general paid him no mind. He rested his chin on the back of his hand and watched as the 'merchandise' was brought out. He gave the slaves an indifferent inspection as they were brought forward one by one.

The soft-spoken lanista Quintus Vibius Buteo- who loved his wife and gold,
walked steadily with his trusted companion and partner in business matters- Paullus
And so the two walked under his marble laden ludus- the part of his marvelous estate which smelt of ambrosial gardenias,
and not the dry, musky training grounds where the clashing of swords and groans of men can be heard!
Paullus spoke- "Now Quintus, I understand you've spent a considerable amount of money on purchasing new slaves.
a risky move, again, did you not think so?
I pray to the gods you do not have thoughts of entering the primus this time.
I worry for your sake old friend."
"Worry?" Quintus raised an eyebrow. "Do you worry about my drive for success?
Are you concerned that a man has ambition?"
Paullus answered meekly, "Your men's performance in the arena has been, in recent times, the talk of the town.
In not so good ways of course."
Quintus scoffed. "They spit only to wet their cocks!"
"You speak to the future greatest lanista in Roman history of all time!
In all things risks must be undertaken. then may the fucking gods decide whats best."
So Quintus declared. And so he took his guest to a high, elaborate chair of honor,
over it, draped an elegant cloth, and put his guest's feet to rest. G
a girl servant came about and poured honeyed wine
The two sat and discussed matters which suit men of high status.

Raine hadn't even known how she had gotten to Capua. Just one second she was sitting peacefully and her home and the next minute she was here, being auctioned off. A few people had been in line before her, getting shown. Their whispers frightened her, as they were talking about various possibilities on why they would get bought. She heard something mumbled about her long hair before each of them left to get shown off. then came her turn.

She stood their, looking at the ground, not wanting to see anybody around her. It was intimidating her to have people, or for that fact a person look over her body to see if they wanted her. "Juno. Please protect me." She mumbled quietly, hiding her exotic yellow eyes behind her already exotic pink hair.

The Doktore Yelled out, "New recruits step to me and line up, the rest of you off to bed." The recruits lined up and waited for the training to begin.

OOC: Question for you guys should we skip the you know training and go straight to the test on the final night, or should we screw around with training a bit, up to you guys.

OOC: I say screw the actual training. I made a few gladiator rp's on a another forum I was on and the actual training just slows things down and gets tedious.

The doctor had long since left Decimus alone in the small healing quarters. The room was locked of course but beside that the big man had free reign. He sat up and swung his legs over to the side of the table, letting his feet drop to the floor. He took a breath before attempting to stand. Putting weight on his knee caused a slight twinge of discomfort but hardly much else.

"Little man knows his trade I'll give him that."

Decimus said to himself. He began walking around the small room. A few tables stained with blood. Several wooden bowls and rags. Anything that could be used as a weapon had been taken from the room. The thought made Decimus chuckle. Fear of a breakout was a Lanista's worst nightmare. Gladiator revolts were not unheard of but never went well. A few Romans would die then a cohort or two would be sent in to kill everyone. Decimus had helped put down a few revolts during his time in the legion. He always enjoyed it. Gladiators always provided him a good challenge which made things much more interesting. Decimus heard the massive bolt in the door disengage and the door swung open.

"Slave, Doctor said you should be well enough to join the others by now. Lets go."

He ordered. Decimus headed to the doorway. He paused for the slightest moment after ducking to get through the doorway to stare down at the guard. That split second was all he needed to see the fainest glimpse of fear in the guards eye. With a chuckle Decimus continued into the hall, allowing the guard to escort him into the courtyard.

Two weeks later!
It was the dead of night and the recruits that had not died from exhaustion and dehydration stand before a large stage. Shadows were dancing around, the light refracting off of the real and sharp blades. The Doktore yelled out, "Today is either the day you die or the day you become a brother, Decimus your up first you will fight Glentus." Glentus was a small man in every way it seemed to be no match between Decimus and Glentus, yet Glentus did not even look worried in fact he looked happy to fight Decimus.

Gnaeus didn't show much initial care toward any of the slaves as they were brought out and bought off. He honestly didn't care much for who he'd bring into his service, just so long as he or she was able to work well enough. That is until one girl in particular was brought out.

The first thing to notice was the pink hair. It stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd. She was a young girl, only just nearing the edge of full maturity. Fair skinned and, in Gnaeus's own opinion, quiet quite pretty for one so young. He had to wonder how she could have ended up as slave. Likely guesses were that she was sold off too the market to make someone a quick bit of coin or the result of someone loosing her to debt.

However as easily as the general noticed her, so too did a good majority of the men in the room. Already a few cries rang out.

"100 sestertius"
"200"
"I say 250 sestertius for the girl"

"100 denarius" That last price brought the auction to a halt. Gnaeus looked over at the man that named the price. A large, fat, man two rows below the general. He was covered in excessive jewelry and expensive fabric. Definitely one of the members of Roman high society that Gnaeus hated the most. Greedy, exuberant pigs that spent their money on trivial things and whatever amused them. All the while lording over the 'lesser' men. Gnaeus new the hungry expression on the mans face when he stared down at the girl. This was going to cost a bit of coin but...

"200 Denarius" The General said inciting a few surprised looks. One denarius was equal to roughly four sesterius. 200 was a heavy price, almost a month's worth of his generals salary. It was steep, but somehow the General felt it would be a shame to let a pretty girl like that become someones bedroom play thing. The fat noble looked back at him with an irritated look. But he was met with Gnaeus's dark scowl, as if the general was just daring him to try to out do him. The nobleman relented quickly, clearly taken aback by the near dominating hostility that the general gave off.

"Sold! To the soldier in the back!" The auctioneer cried. The general sighed as got up to leave toward the back stage area where he cold claim his 'purchase'. He had a feeling of hindsight washing over him. It was a lot of money he just paid, and later he was going to have to explain to his wife why he just sent it all on some girl.

Somehow, he had a feeling that this girl was going to be more trouble than she was worth.

"100 Denarius!" Raine looked up quickly at the fat man who had said it. "Oh no..." She muttered, almost brought to tears.
"200 Denarius!" A different man said. He seemed to be in the military and a pretty high rank. Then she was sold to that same man.

"Thank you for buying my sir." She mumbled, looking up at him with her golden-yellow eyes for a brief second. "I'm glad you didn't let me go to the yucky.... High-class man." She had regained her manners and curtseyed. Even after, she continued to look at the ground, waiting for him to tell her what to do.

Livia stood out on her villa's veranda, overlooking the crowded streets of Capua, today her husband would be returning and to be frank she couldn't figure out if the emotions she was feeling were more dread than excitement. Their marriage had been purely political, with her father being high up she knew Gnaeus had only married her for more influence in politics and perhaps secure his lineage, why her father had agreed she would never know, but yet here she was the bored, beautiful wife of a whores son. It sounded so obsured she indeed had to laugh aloud at times yet she supposed it wasn't all bad, hell, they had only been married a few months before he left to go on campaign for the empire and that was more than six months ago. On the brighter side of things she supposed it wasn't all bad, he was handsome, sure, she knew their children would be great beauties, yet he was a brute, bitter and hollow for a reason unbeknownst to her.

Walking back inside she called for her servant "Elva! Draw me a bath and fetch my finest gown, I want to look ravishing for my returning husband" she said with a slight smirk as the slave hurried of to complete her tasks.