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HEY EVERYONE. THIS IS MY 2nd STORY AND I HOPE TO ADD MANY MORE INTO THIS SERIES. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF UD LIKE TO SEE IN UPCOMING STORIES, THNX:
A loud roar echoed and vibrated in the air above. Someone had fallen.Damien looked up silently at the wooden boards of his cell. His gray eyes and powerful build spoke of concentration. All around him the other gladiators were either weeping with fear, sharpening weapons or, like him, in silent thought. The shrieking of the crowd grew even louder; the fight was almost over...he was next. Calmly he reached down and taking the sword lying on the bench next to him buckled it around his waist. Then taking up his helmet, he strode calmly toward the entrance, men along the way whispering words of luck or avoiding his eyes.
For three long years Damien had been fighting in this arena. Originally hailing from Nuln, he had been in the service of their armed forces. However, a massive attack of Orks on his patrol had left all his comrades dead and him a captive. After suffering through the tortures of the Orks as their prisoner for several weeks, he was rescued, or so he thought. Having been moving south, the Orks were set upon and slaughtered by the men of Araby. Instead of freeing him, they had brought him here as a slave.
His first fight in the arena he had destroyed his opponent, but never had time to recover as he was thrown into another and another until they all blurred together into a world of death. Then he had met Aliya...if there was one good thing in this world of his it was her. A slave like him, he had been "awarded" her after defeating a champion of the arena. She and her family had also been victims of the Araby raiding parties. Aliya alone had survived. His thoughts strayed to her waiting in the hut of the slave compound. "I will stay alive for her," he thought. For if he was struck down, the custom was to pass her on to the next available man to assure his contentment and fighting spirit. He would never do that to her.
"Stand Up!!" The turban clad guard bellowed at the cell door. Behind him Damien heard all the men shuffling to form up behind him, some being yanked from their weeping positions, there would be no cowards allowed to stay back. Josh stepped in next to him, the one friend he had in this place. Many times had they fought together and both had saved each other’s life on more then one occasion. Tracing the scar earned from an Orks’ scimitar over his eye he spoke calmly "We sure are going to need to fight well to stay alive with this group behind us." Damien knew what he meant, looking back he saw out of the "team" of 15 fighters only about four of them including him and Josh were experienced. The rest were either puking their guts out or standing their trembling as pools of urine grew at their feet. "They won’t last 5 minutes," he thought sadly in his head.
With a grating squeal of rusted hinges the cell door swung open and the gladiators strode through the entrance. A long hallway extended before them all and at the end stood a square of light. The smell and the sound of the crowd assaulted his senses, the orgy of blood and violence driving them into frenzy. A weeping slave behind him gave a strangled cry and fell to the dirt floor. "Don’t...m...make me go out there, please don’t make me...I don’t want to DIE!!" An Araby guard ended his suffering with a swift flash of his blade, showing as an example what happens to cowards in this place.
Reaching the square of light Damien paused and placed the helmet on his head, and taking a deep breath strode out into the ring. The roar was deafening. Adjusting to the bright glare he saw once again the rows and rows of wooden bleachers hidden from view by the screaming crowd. A crowd wanting blood. And their hidden by the harsh glares of sunlight sat the king of Araby. Around him dozens of beautiful partly naked girls fanned him and gave him food and drink. Around him sat the delegates of the nobility of Araby, all focusing on the arena or letting their eyes stray to the Kings slave girls.
Josh and the other experienced men fanned to either side of him while the rest huddled together unsure what to do. Damian calmly drew his blade as Josh did the same, un-slinging the axe from behind his back. Across the bloodstained sand his opponents stood waiting, the king really wanted a show today it seemed.
In front of him stood another group of men, but better armored and with better weapons. And their leader was none other then that bastard Salmis. He knew that he had his eyes on Aliya…and still wanted her. Damien’s lips curled into a snarl, he would be the first to die. Seeing his anger Salmis licked his lips as if in anticipation of the coming combat. Silently a delegate from the King rose and strode to the podium. The crowd fell silent. Damien calmly got into a fighting stance as did Josh. People were about to die. The delegate spread his hands wide apart…and brought them together with a resounding clap. The loud sound echoed throughout the arena…and then the crowd roared as the gladiators rushed each other.
Damien had his eyes only for Salmis and seeing his challenge his opponent ran harder wanting to meet him first. But a faster enemy wielding a spear got their first. Without breaking stride Damien sliced the spear in half and with the backhand beheaded his foe. The crowd roared louder, first blood had been spilled. With a screech of rage Salmis launched a hard blow at Damien with his heave mace. Barely blocking the blow Damien launched his own assault but it was deflected by his heavy armor. The continued to fight exchanging blows almost faster then the eye could follow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw things were about even with the other fighters.
Suddenly Salmis kicked a flurry of sand into his eyes and knowing he was vulnerable Damien threw himself backwards feeling the wind of the passing mace inches from his head. Hitting the ground Damien furiously tried to scrub the sand out of his eyes with one hand while bringing up his blade to parry Salmis’ next blow. He blocked the first one and the second one but the third one jarred the sword from his hands. Grinning in triumph Salmis raised the mace high over his head and sneeringly said “Aliya is going to scream really loud for me tonight.”
Fury like none other surged through Damien and shocking Salmis he somehow got up and grabbed the wrist bringing the mace down on him. Before he knew what happened Damien drove his fist into Salmis’ face snapping his nose and causing blood to flow. With Salmis reeling back Damien brought his other fist up and drove it into his throat. Reflexes forced Salmis to drop his mace, clasping his throat trying to breath. The distraction was all Damien needed. Pulling his blade from the sands he strode over the choking Salmis. Not saying a word he drove with all his force the blade into the bastards chest. Not even the heavy armor could save him. Pulling his crimsoned blade from his foes chest he looked about him, the fight was over. Josh calmly pulled the head of his axe roughly out of his opponents dead body. The cheers of the crowd drowned out all other sense’s. Looking about him, Damien and the remaining winning gladiators raised their blades in triumph, the crowd roared louder. Another day in the arena…another one to follow.
That’s actually really good; three things come to mind though-
1. Please don’t use netspeak
2. Ork is the 40k spelling of Orc
3. Araby is ruled by a Sultan
That aside I would love to read a continuation.