Gladiator, No, his name isn't Spartacus... Options

[Gaius Maximus]

Since I couldn't get myself to write more about Gaius, I decided to give that story a break, and instead try a different character. This was the result.

Author's note: I'm portraying the Arena of the Imperial City in a different way than it is presented in Oblivion - not a coluntary fighting Arena, but a place where prisoners of war and criminals are stuffed to die after being given training with weaponty and the like.

Chapter I

The burning village was full of cries of despair and hatred. The mounted Legionnaires paid no attention to this horrifying music, though, killing the Ra Gada warriors that dared oppose them. Not one fell from a lance or a sword, and that was the punishment a small desert village would receive for a rebellion. Against the lightly armed Redguard infantry, the disciplined cavalry of the Legion seemed invincible, partially because of the advantage their steeds gave them. Still, even though they killed warriors, they weren’t mindlessly planting death right and left – women and children were spared, if they chose so. But most chose to burn with their homes.

“Oi! Hold some for the Arena; we’ll have plenty of pleasure later!”

This shout that pierced the air came from who was undoubtedly the officer of these soldiers, as easily presumed by the armor which was colored lighter than the standard issue Legion armor, also decorated with gold heavily. The Imperial’s hand was grasping a long spear, bloody from all the fighting it had seen today.

Laughter hit the air as soon as the officer spoke, and the Legionnaires’ way of fighting turned from offensive to defensive lighting-fast – a sign of perfect discipline the Legion was famous for. This turned out to be effective enough – several Redguards were knocked out as soon as they started showing signs of weariness. But several Redguards still held, and among them was a relatively young one, fighting it out with a spear and a large shield. The fact that he had a wall behind him, and a large shield and a spear effectively keeping the cavalrymen away made him appear victorious for some time.

Not for long. A cavalryman charged at him from the left, though the Imperial was quick to direct his horse away as soon as the enormous spear turned towards him. Unfortunately for the warrior, another Legionnaire took advantage from this, hitting him in the back of his head painfully. After a ‘thud’, the Redguard fell down, knocked unconscious.

With the thud, the Redguard woke up from his uneasy sleep, breathing heavily. Another thud, so similar to the one in the dream, and a hit in the back of his head followed. Realizing what was happening, the Redguard lifted himself off of the ground, looking at his surroundings with bloodshot eyes.

The dirty cell he was in was certainly not a place one would like to end up in. The walls were crude rocks, with many sticks painted on them, along with not one puddle of dried blood, several in the shapes of palms. The floor was only bare ground, with quite a few sharp rocks sticking out. Several bones lying nearby the walls and the bars didn’t help cheer up the mood. Speaking of the bars, they were the only source of light, though the majority of it was currently being blocked by a person that was standing at the bars. A rock in his hand indicated that he was the one responsible for the hit in the head the Redguard received, since a similar rock was lying nearby his head.

The person blocking the light was a middle-aged Imperial, clad in iron armor. A blade was hanging by his side, almost reaching the ground due to the short height of the man – five and a half feet at most, maybe less. The legs were oddly stretched, and the broad shoulders and long, muscular arms didn’t make him look better. His facial features weren’t the best, too – somewhat fat lips, a humped nose and large, silver-colored eyes. To top that, his hair was too short to cover these features up at least a bit, so he was left with what he had, and it wasn’t much. To tell the truth, the Redguard in the cell wasn’t surprised that this Imperial was stuffed somewhere as rotten as the Arena of the Imperial City – he wasn’t something he would choose to keep in the Legion, or the Fighters’ Guild. Still, this man made it to become the Blademaster of the Arena, after the previous one died after an unsuccessful attempt at demonstrating how wild lions are supposed to be dealt with.

“Wake up, scum. You’ve been having your beauty sleep long enough now, it’s time to fight!” The Blademaster proclaimed, throwing the second rock at the Redguard. The man in the cell was quick enough to dodge it, though almost fell down after the movement – he was still not fully awake. The Imperial spat, a sarcastic smile curling up on his face, sticking the key into the keyhole. With a loud clang, the bars opened, and the Redguard slowly walked out into the bleak light of the Bloodworks.

In the bleak light, the looks of the Redguard could be observed with less difficulty than in the dark cell.

The Redguard was somewhere around five feet eight inches tall. Built in a well-toned way, he looked like an agile warrior, in contrast to the heavy Imperial that was currently starring at him with hate and disgust. Still, from the first glance you could see that the Redguard was a prisoner – many scars and wounds, undoubtedly made by a whip, both on his chest and on his back were visible now that the man was wearing nothing except for a dirty loincloth, held in place by a wide leather belt.

As much as his body contrasted with the Imperial’s, so did his face. The Redguard was no beauty king, though his thin lips, mid-sized nose and maybe only a bit too small sea-green eyes would’ve captured the attention of a woman, if effort was put. But now, getting a woman was the last thing he thought of. At the current moment, what mattered was survival of another battle in the Arena. There was no telling who he would face – lions? Other gladiators? Monsters?

“Well, come on, move up, Charon! There’s no time for glorious processions!” The Blademaster yelled again, slamming his fist on the back of the man he just called Charon. The Redguard looked back at him with hatred, and there was no doubt that if Charon got a sword for a single second, he would’ve stabbed the Imperial right on the spot, even if his life depended on the life of the man. But now, Charon had no choice but to move forward.

The pair walked through a torch-lit corridor, passing not one or two cells similar to Charon’s on their way. Various people could be seen inside the cells – Imperials, Bretons, Nords, Redguards, Dunmer, Bosmer, Altmer… All prisoners were occupied with different things – be it sleeping, pointing on the walls or whatever else – but none let the Blademaster pass without hissing at him, or expressing their hate in other ways. One Redguard even dared to spit at the hated man, though he missed. Maybe it was for the best, though – the Blademaster of the Arena wasn’t exactly known to for patience when dealing with gladiators.

Finally, the duo made it to a quite large room that looked relatively well in comparison to the rest of the Bloodworks. The walls were made out of bricks – something not found in the cells – and the floor was covered with rocks, not as crude as the ones making up the walls of the cells. In the opposite end of the room, stairs could be seen, rising up to the Arena. Many tables were lined along the walls, with weapons and armor of gladiators upon each. Maces, nets, shortswords, daggers, tridents, spears…

The Blademaster took a large arm guard from one of the tables and tossed it to Charon. The Redguard caught it easily, and started putting it on. Meanwhile, the Imperial collected a trident, a net and a dagger in a sheath, and, seeing that Charon was armored and set to go, tossed him the weapons as well.

Now, Charon looked battle-ready. The large arm guard, ranging from his wrist to his shoulder, was the only armor he wore, yet that allowed him to be more agile than any other gladiator types. In his left hand, the Retiarius was holding the trident, and in his right hand, the net was grasped. Strapped to his wide belt was the dagger, which was the only weapon he could use if he lost his net and his trident.

Slowly, Charon walked towards the tunnel leading up to the Arena. The Blademaster looked as he disappeared behind the corner, before spitting and turning around, leaving the room as well. He was confident that the Redguard would die today, and he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. Training gladiators was a pain for him, because they had a tendency to die after the first fight – especially Retiarii.

[Gaius Maximus]

Chapter VI

As the trio approached the island more and more, Charon felt an odd scent in the air. Perhaps it was Daedric Magic becoming so thick that even he was able to smell it. Or perhaps it was the odd flowers he had noticed. Regardless, though, the smell was rather thick, and unpleasant. Even more so, now that they approached the island, the humming got louder and louder, and Charon was feeling like his inside was vibrating. However, he just clenched his teeth and attempted to ignore it.

Taking a glance behind, he noticed that Raynari wasn’t feeling the best, too. The Dunmer had also obviously clenched his teeth tightly, and couldn’t hide the frown on his face as the smell got stronger and stronger with their approach towards the mysterious island.

When he looked in front of him again, he noticed that Gilian had turned to face him. A small purple bubble surrounded his nose, and Charon guessed this was a Shield spell, to aid the Mer against the thick smell that was floating in the air around the island. However, even the mage could do nothing against the odd humming noise, and it was obvious that it had an effect on him, as a slight frown was present on his face.

“We’re here, gentlemen. Any volunteers to go up and check what’s up there?” The Altmer gestured towards the island. If they were to find out something, they would have to scale a small peak.

Seeing as the Dunmer gave no response, Charon sighed and stepped forward. “I’ll go. The only thing I need is a lift to the top.”

Gilian smiled slightly, then muttered something, lifting his free hand up to Charon’s chest level. Unexpectedly, a purple ball dashed towards Charon, and the next thing he knew, the Redguard was in the air, slowly floating towards the island under the influence of a Telekinesis spell.

Curse those mages and their spells… He muttered under his breath, waiting for himself to land. Fortunately for him, the trip lasted shortly, and soon enough, he was back on firm ground.

The view that was revealed to him made him gasp.

Charon stood at the side of an enormous statue. The statue was that of a head, yet what unsettled him was the fact that the statue looked… mad. It had three faces, each depicting different emotions, yet connecting at the eyes. The mouth of the middle statue was open, with its lower jaw opening up into stairs that led inside the statue. From there, all the humming seemed to come, and Charon could spot shades of blue and purple dancing on the stone.

Near the mouth of the statue stood what appeared to be a Legionnaire, armored with the traditional Legion armor – Lorica Segmentata, Scutum shield and the Legion helmet. Beneath that, Charon could spot a tunic, and a scarf, both red. The Imperial wore sandals, the traditional footwear of the Legion. Of weapons, the Legionnaire carried the Gladius shortsword, also several javelins – Pilas.

From what Charon could see from his position, the man wasn’t very tall – slightly shorter than six feet. He had rather tan skin, which suggested that the Imperial spent a lot of time under the sun. However, Charon was in a position from which he couldn’t see the face of the man.

Behind the Legionnaire, the Redguard noticed a small camp. It consisted of a solo tent, inside which was a bedroll of poor quality. Nearby the tent was a fireplace, currently with no fire burning. On it stood a simple pot, which was probably where the Legionnaire boiled his food. Speaking of the food, it was most likely located in a sack that was positioned next to the tent.

The small camp suggested Charon that the man lived here, yet he only began thinking of that after he recovered from the extremely strong smell of the mushrooms beneath him. To avoid being seen, he had to quickly hide in them, which resulted in almost loosing consciousness. He couldn’t allow himself that, so he began crawling forward, trying to breath in a way the smell wouldn’t affect him so much. However, that wasn’t very successful, so Charon felt quite dizzy and ready to throw up at any moment.

While he was crawling through the mushrooms, trying to make as little noise as possible, a Dunmer was basically spat out of the statue’s mouth. The Elf rose from the ground, shivering, froth flowing out of his mouth. His eyes darted around like those of a madman, full of panic.

“This is all wrong… Everything is wrong…” The Dunmer muttered, burying his hands in his messy red hair. “I can’t do it… You won’t make me…” His voice got louder as he spoke. “I won’t go back! You can’t make me!” The obviously mad Mer’s shivering hand moved down to the handle of a rusty iron shortsword tied to his belt. “I- I’LL KILL YOU ALL! YOU ALL ARE GOING TO DIE!” With that yell, the Dunmer suddenly leaped up, unsheathing his weapon of poor quality.

The Legionnaire sighed, and Charon saw one of the javelins flying towards the Dunmer, who wasn’t even attempting to avoid it. The weapon pierced the Mer’s chest straight on, and soon, a pool of blood appeared on the stone stairs. This was when the Redguard was an opportunity to strike.

Leaping forward, he ran for the Legionnaire, who, unfortunately, noticed him already. Since the web and the trident in his hands left no clue about what feelings Charon had towards the Imperial, a Pilum was sent flying towards the ex-Gladiator.

However, Charon was a Retiarius for a reason. Jumping out of the javelin’s way, he dashed forward, and threw his net towards the Legionnaire. However, he also jumped back and avoided the attack, then dashed forward to impale Charon on his Gladius. The Legionnaire was quite a lot like a Secutor for Charon – they had the same weaknesses, though the Legionnaire had more strengths.

Knowing what he had to do, Charon sidestepped the blow, then thrust forward his trident. The Legionnaire blocked the blow, yet was forced to take a step back as they began pouring down on the Scutum one after another. As soon as the Imperial took a step back, though, Charon threw his net again, catching the shield in it. It took only a pull towards himself to make the Legionnaire loose one of his weapons, and a good deal of advantage.

However the Imperial wasn’t going to surrender and Charon had to jump back quickly to avoid another thrust. Then, he attempted to impale the man on his trident, yet that blow was sidestepped, and the next thing Charon knew, his main weapon was flying out of his hand as the Legionnaire pulled it.

As the trident landed on the ground, the Legionnaire again attempted to impale Charon on his Gladius, yet failed as Charon rolled left. Wasting no time, the Redguard threw himself at the Imperial, effectively bringing him to the ground.

A struggle on the ground ensued, yet here, Charon had the upper hand. Soon enough, the Gladius was lying on the ground some distance away, and his knife was covered in blood. The Legionnaire was on the ground, dead, with a slit throat.

“Bravo! Bravo!” An odd voice suddenly boomed. “What a fight! Quite amusing, really.” Charon looked around, trying to find the source of this voice. However, his only suspect currently was the statue. However, his search was cut short as the voice continued:

“You have something that I was looking for! Perhaps you’d like to come in? You can bring friends, really! The more, the merrier, no?” Charon looked at the statue, not entirely sure whenever to dismiss the thought of trying to go into the blue-ish light that was present in the mouth of the statue, or go in. However, his thought was cut short when the voice whispered, seemingly from right next to him:

“And if you’re not convinced yet, we have free cheese!”

Puzzled, Charon approached the peak at the bottom of which he knew stood Gilian and Raynari, supported by the purple platform created by the Altmer’s Water Walking spell.

“It’s all clear, you can come up. Nothing but an odd statue up here, really.” He gestured them, trying to ignore the smell of the mushrooms that surrounded him once again. The humming noise ceased after the voice stopped speaking, so it wasn’t an annoyance anymore.

After a few Telekinesis spells, both Mer were up on the island, yet Raynari was looking rather annoyed, and Charon didn’t blame it – he too was rather annoyed when Gilian just threw him up on the island with no warning.

Since the island wasn’t that large, the three split up to explore it, feeling no need to stay together for security. Raynari went down a path that led down, and Charon took a somewhat hidden path down to the water. Gilian stayed to explore the statue further, as it intrigued him greatly.

***

After some ten minutes, Charon, Raynari and Gilian again met up next to the statue. There wasn’t anything that interesting on the island, except for the odd vegetation, all of which had a thick and a rather unpleasant smell. Yet none of the flowers bested the mushrooms which Charon found upon stepping foot on the island for the first time.

“So, what now?” Charon finally broke the silence. Gilian shrugged.

“Now I head into the Gate. I want to find out where it goes, and if it is of any danger to Tamriel. There could be more to it than we could imagine. The statue just reeks of Sheogorath’s magic, so that gate could lead us beyond our sanity.” The Altmer gestured towards the statue.

Raynari smirked.

“So, you find it wise to head into a place that reeks of Sheogorath?”

“No, I find myself curious, and that is why I head in.” Gilian replied, then turned around on his heel, heading towards the mysterious gate.

Charon shrugged.

“Well, it invited me, so I might as well go in, just for the heck of finding out who spoke to me.” With that, he also turned around and followed the Altmer. Raynari shook his head, yet still followed; indeed, he also felt very curious about the nature of these ‘gates’. He didn’t trust Gilian a lot, after all, so he might’ve been wrong by saying that it reeked of Sheogorath.