GUIDE


1) Main stats that will keep count on the picked choices will be Affection and Aversion. Both will hold a positive number value and will weigh in on the type of relationship that Eris and the chosen MC have.

2) Both will have a personal reputation bar for the other.

3) Don't be afraid to choose neutral options, they have their own part to play.

4) We'll usually roll 1d20 with different modifiers, that will depend on the already taken desicions. Only natural 1 is critical failure, 20 can be critical success with modifiers. Critical failure can be overwritten only by critical success.

5) Eris isn't omnipotent.

>>6090602
>an indescribable resolve for freedom
spartacus angle

>>6090602
>an indescribable resolve for freedom

>>6090602
>>an overwhelming desire for greatness
I like this one more

>>6090602
>an overwhelming desire for greatness

>>6090602
>>a profound loss of purpose

>>6090602
>a profound loss of purpose

I’m noticing a pattern here.

>>6090607
>Only natural 1 is critical failure, 20 can be critical success with modifiers. Critical failure can be overwritten only by critical success.
unless you want and/or have a plan for a lot of critical fails imo you need something with a bigger range than a d20.

>>6090602
>a profound loss of purpose
Roman politician quest is also acceptable to me

Fnord!

>an indescribable resolve for freedom

>>6090602
>an indescribable resolve for freedom
Lets get that wooden gladius

>>6090650 | >>6090655 | >>6090665 | >>6090674 | >>6090823 | >>6090839 | >>6091038 | >>6091097 | >>6091106 | >>6090915 - embrace the chaos. But it won't happen if only 2 anons roll per dice request

4 for freedom, 3 for no purpose, 2 for greatness

Roman bricks hold in the summer heat very efficiently. Even in the middle of the night the Thracian is sweating profusely, alone on the wooden bed. Lunar light makes it's way through the wide open door, a forlorn attempt to bring in the Tyrrhenian breeze. A Teutonic girl, sent to him by his Dominus as gift for today's performance, now lies sleeping on the stone floor untouched. It's cooler there.

It's all wrong even after a year of being here the Thracian is thinking the same thing, night after night.

The bricks are wrong, the staleness is strange, the moon is sickly, the blond hair of the Teuton girl is unnatural... in the Rhodopae mountains, on those gorgeous, ancient hills where home is, everything was right, but here it's just...

Smoky shadow is watching him from the dark corner of his cell, slowly taking shape of a womanly figure with ashen violet skin, floating black hair and glowing red eyes that stare him wide open.

... wrong. the Thracian barely manages to finish, hands already hugging the walls, racing heart in his chest.

What's so wrong about me, deliciae? Is this a proper way to greet a guest with divine predispositions? there is no rush in her voice, she is taking her time. The Thracian is mute with awe.

A bow down will suffice as a greeting, you know.

Silence. The face around the glowing ember eyes twists in disappointment.

When I manifest in front of men, I bear them heart attacks. When I do it in front of women, instead of me relishing in their jealousy over my splendid magnificence, they usually cower in fear. My presence tends to be too much, I get that. But I was expecting more from you. An otherworldly form shows herself to a lowly slave like you and silence is the only thing she gets?


1/3

I've bowed down enough for a lifetime, creature... and I'm not a slave in here. the initial shock has passed. The Thracian finally speaks with conviction, pointing to his heart.

And yet when your feet find themselves on that familiar sand and there stands another in front of you to kill, you will bow down just by participating in that spectacle. You will bow down to the patrons, your blade will rise in salutation towards the emperor, you will greet the crowd that doesn't care if you live or die. And if you succeed in your kill, again you will come back here to call the man who bought you from that slave market on Mars's field - a Dominus. Ah, how I love hypocritical men... the shadow woman slowly approaches him, her ethereal form hovering above.

Are you here for my soul?

Childlike laughter ensues.

From the Herculean Gates to the Caucasus, I swear, all of you are just the same... For what purpose would I need your soul? Can a soul entertain me? Can it give me a good time? A soul without a body is a dull affair, Thracian. Also that's not my trade, my name is Eris and my business is only trouble.

So what do you want from me?

I already told you. For starters you can enjoy this meal the goddess points to the untouched lamb chops or that... she caresses his disregarded sleeping company. Seeing where his eyes stay lingering, she brings the girl away from the cool stone floor and places her on top of sweating hot flesh. She guides her blond head for a kiss with him, then pushes down on the Teuton's hips towards penetration. The girl calls the Thracian by his name, awakened.

Eris savors their moans and disappears in the ether, leaving him to his fun, only her words echo after her...

Be satisfied, Thracian, but not too much or for too long. Otherwise who'll provide me with intriguing deeds to relish...

______________________________________________
Eris's view of the Thracian: Entertaining Peon
the Thracian's view of Eris: Neutral Miscreant


2/3

No one calls the Thracian by his real name, rather, the crafty romans decided to give him a stage name, a name carried by a mythical Thracian figure. How did the slave girl call the Thracian?

>Rhesus
The Romans, seeing themselves as descendants of the Trojans, saw it fit to call him by a name carried by a Thracian king that fought on the Trojan side against the Greeks. The Thracian fights on 'the good guys side' while performing in large arena reenactments of past battles, has more report with the Dominus and the Doctore, however gladiators from other ethnicities might see him as a bootlicker.

The Thracian fights as Retiarius who wields trident and a net as weapons, while wearing minimal armor for maximum mobility.


>Zalmoxis
Another name of Orpheus, who went to Hades to bring back his wife Eurydice to the world of the living. And because he failed, he changed his name to Zalmoxis. Unable to bring back his beloved to life, he becomes death just to feel her presence. A woeful figure in mythology, now the Thracian has neutral standing with the crowd, his master or fellow gladiators.

The Thracian fights as Dimachaerus who wields two blades in each hand, symbolizing his rejection of defensive strategy. In the right hand he holds a short rhomphaia, a cousin of the Dacian falx. In the left hand - a scythe and chooses to enter the arena covered in a black cloak.


>Thrax
The accursed son of Ares, whose name has been affiliated with the Thracian people since the start of their worship of him. He is angry and vengeful and since the Romans conquered the Thracians, now they make a mockery of him by placing him on 'the bad guys side' while performing in large arena reenactments of past battles. The Thracian has more report with his fellow gladiators and has strained relationship with his Dominus.

The Thracian fights as Murmillo, uses a short sword - gladius, in one hand and carries a heavy legionnaire shield in the other, while wearing a heavy helmet, arm and leg guards.


3/3

>>6091233
>Rhesus

>>6091233
>Zalmoxis
I don't want to close paths.

Also sed s/report/rapport/g. </grammar_nazism>

>>6091233
>Zalmoxis
Two blades sounds fun and I like this name. Also, by any chance are you the QM who once ran The Checkpoint who had Burden Deo as the main character?

>>6091245 | >>6091252 egg on my face anon linux users should be in the colosseums | >>6091333 different guy

Zalmoxis it is

Zalmoxis


The men have been up before sunrise, gripping trice heavier wooden duplicates of their weapon of choice, grunting with effort after each swing and thrust. Those who are wounded sit on a wooden bench awake and observing, not allowed to rest too much lest they grow accustomed to sloth. In their leisure they throw jests at a Latin man, a new slave turned such because of unpaid debt, critique his net throwing technique and the unsteady hand that holds his trident. A Briton Celt fights with a Gaul, banter follows each successful strike, they know each other well. An Illyrian Hoplomachus wields a huge wooden spear with ease, defending strikes from a Greek who pretends to be a wild arena animal. The Germans, always silent and sullen, prefer the company of their own, improving their technique with meticulous attention.

And then there is the Iberian, the one who carried the name Bormanicus, the one who fights as murmillo and is champion of this school. The favorite of the Dominus is now sparring with Zalmoxis as their close quarters style of fighting is compatible for their growth and the taste of the crowd. Suddenly a shout echoes off the ludus's bricks, a Syrian has sustained a serious injury where the wooden sword of his partner might have pierced something in his torso. The new Latin man heads towards him in order to help.


>"Don't touch him, Roman. If you do and he ends up dying, you'll be his whore in the next life." Zalmoxis ominously warns (+1 Affection towards Eris)

>The Latin is his own man, let him do what he wants.

>"Roman, better go fetch herbs from the kitchens, we have to see if his stomach was punctured..." Zalmoxis shares an old method for internal injury diagnosis (+1 Aversion towards Eris)

>>6092030
Morituri te salutant, #114.

>>6092104
>"Roman, better go fetch herbs from the kitchens, we have to see if his stomach was punctured..." Zalmoxis shares an old method for internal injury diagnosis (+1 Aversion towards Eris)
we can repair the malus later. We cannot let one of our own die.

>>6092104
>"Roman, better go fetch herbs from the kitchens, we have to see if his stomach was punctured..." Zalmoxis shares an old method for internal injury diagnosis (+1 Aversion towards Eris)

>>6092104
>"Don't touch him, Roman. If you do and he ends up dying, you'll be his whore in the next life." Zalmoxis ominously warns (+1 Affection towards Eris)

>>6092104
>"Roman, better go fetch herbs from the kitchens, we have to see if his stomach was punctured..." Zalmoxis shares an old method for internal injury diagnosis (+1 Aversion towards Eris)

>>6092121 | >>6092175 | >>6092311 | >>6092359

We are taking care of the Syrian

Eris


It's daytime and Helios reigns over the mortal world again. Far away from him and the annoying sun that his chariot drags across the sky, a distant nebula, located somewhere beyond the Aquila rift, has turned into bathing space for the celestial feminine. Eris stretches comfortably her naked body across the colorful cosmic dust while Andromeda showers her hair with the remains of exploded stars and Virgo rubs her feet. While the constellations take care of her and gossip about some mortal who impregnated Aphrodite, Eris is busy entertaining another common trait for her gender, eavesdropping.

With a whirl of a finger some of the splashed stardust around her starts shifting vigorously in a maelstrom in front of her face, grouping and repulsing itself until it creates a steady moving picture of the gladiator school where her new toy resides. With just a thought her stardust mirror penetrates deep in whatever place she desires to see, showing her hidden contents behind locked doors, enters private chambers and hears forbidden conversations...

"...your guts don't smell of either basil or lavender, Syrian, the gods have protected your shit from spilling, you will live..." a medic proclaims from the training grounds.

"...hurry up or you'll end up on a cross if my husband sees us..." passionate female voice whispers in a room adjacent to the steam room.

"...give this to my wife. Tell her that in two weeks I will have more..." a messenger is sent out with a task through the cattle gate.


Bored of things that she has witnessed thousand times already, Eris decides to do something else...


>the night before, she noticed emotions of attachment from the Teuton girl when she placed her in the Thracian's embrace. Eris decides to humiliate her publicly
(+2 Mischievous Affection towards the Thracian; Zalmoxis gains +1 Aversion towards Eris)

>Eris pulls divine strings and makes the Dominus buy a misanthropic and rambunctious Helvetian slave as replacement for the wounded Syrian

>Eris sends Andromeda as a slave girl in disguise in order to tempt the Thracian, as a test
(Eris doesn't like those succumbing to the most basic desires and gains +2 Aversion towards the Thracian if he fails her test, or +1 Affection if he passes; Zalmoxis gains +1 Affection towards her)

_______________________________________________
Eris's view of the Thracian: Entertaining Peon ( 0 Affection; 0 Aversion )
the Thracian's view of Eris: Annoying Miscreant ( 0 Affection; +1 Aversion )

>>6092725
>Eris sends Andromeda as a slave girl in disguise in order to tempt the Thracian, as a test
Zalmoxis is a good guy, we didn't touch the slave before.

>>6092725
>Eris sends Andromeda as a slave girl in disguise in order to tempt the Thracian, as a test

>>6092725
>Eris sends Andromeda as a slave girl in disguise in order to tempt the Thracian, as a test

>>6092754 | >>6092914 | >>6093035

Andromeda will make herself present.

Zalmoxis


It's dark now and the afternoon training is over. Exhausted, the gladiators have gathered in the chow hall to fill their bellies for the night. To the barley porridge this time everyone gets a good chunk of pork meat, a tell-tale sign that an announcement is coming. On the farthest table, squeezed in the very back of the the low ceiling stone hall, sit the four Germans. If they talk, they use their queer language, yet often have to repeat themselves, showing their belonging to different tribes. The two Celts are fraternizing with a bowl in hand somewhere outside, under the open sky. Except for these northerners no one else groups by ethnicity, rather they choose skill and personality as weighing factor in their friendships. Not far away from the Germans is a table - gathering point for all newbies. The Roman is there, quickly accepted by the Lydians, who are almost as new as him. Zalmoxis sits with a close friend, the Illyrian who prefers fighting with beasts rather than men, named Morina. After them, one can see Syrians sitting with Carthaginians, Dacians with Tripolitanians, Philistines exchanging gossip with Samnites, all laughing and talking in their broken Latin, the meat is making them excited...

Sitting alone on a table that is placed on a broken stone pillar, towering over everyone, observing everyone, is the Doctore - the Egyptian giant whose name is Nefersan. He is the eyes and ears of the Dominus in his gladiatorial ludus. He remains a willing slave, even after winning the wooden gladius, and is now teacher, mentor and confidant to all those who sweat on the arena under this roof.

Suddenly he stands and demand for attention, as the Dominus, Sisenna is the name of his family, enters the hall. The roman master is shorter than average yet well build with only the graying hair and crow feet betraying his age. His visage is that of the typical Roman. His walk is bustling with energy, his voice is strong and confident. The only Greek gladiator in this school is the only one who picks on the master's distinctive voice, a voice that has been trained purposefully to sound strong and to not expect rejection.

"Amicis meis", he begins as everyone is standing up in attention, "The son of our divine emperor Vespasian, Titus, has successfully annihilated the last bastions of rebellious resistance in Judea, and in order to celebrate this mighty occasion he will be received in Rome with triumph!...

How many times has the Dominus made this exact speech, Zalmoxis wonders. After every subjugated tribe and conquered land? Have there been triumphs to honor the butcher work the Romans did in Thrace? Maybe... Definitely.

1/2

...A triumph means bread for all Romans and where do Romans prefer eating their bread? At the arena of course, watching your glorious feats, watching you make a name for yourself... for 150 days straight!" Master Sisenna is satisfied with his intro. And for that reason the magister, who is responsible for our quarter of this magnificent City, will be present in this ludus tomorrow, inspecting the talents of our gladiators. Your talents! Let us provide him with a spectacle that he can't forget, let us satisfy him so that our school is not excluded from this tremendous tourney of skill! ... And opportunity."

His head starts to look around for specific people.


"I want to showcase the magister four pairs of unusual gladiatorial sparring partners... Teutobott, choose one who is incompatible with your style." the Dominus says, picking the best of the Germans.

"I pick Odovacker, the cestus." the cestus fights with knuckledusters and strange armaments attached to their arms.

"A German picks another German, a surprise." the Illyrian whispers to Zalmoxis.

Hestor, who will you pick? the Dominus moves on, now questioning the Greek.

Boadicon, the provocator. That breastplate will give me trouble. he picks the Breton.

Zalmoxis, you are next. master Sisenna continues.

Morina, the hoplomachus. he answers with a smile.

Alright, and for a final pick. Bormanicus, who will the champion favor for his duel?

The greatest enemy of a murmillo is one with net and trident, after all. The Latin, I want him. Bormanicus bellows in his Iberian dialect.


Zalmoxis...

>stays silent
We all have to pull our weight. ( Eris gains +1 Affection towards the Thracian )

>argues with Bormanicus
"The man's own legs get caught more frequent in that net of his than those of the opponent. Don't embarrass our Dominus in front of the magistrate by picking greenhorn enemies." ( Eris gains +1 Aversion towards the Thracian )

______________________________________________________
Eris's view of the Thracian: Entertaining Peon ( 0 Affection; 0 Aversion )
the Thracian's view of Eris: Annoying Miscreant ( 0 Affection; +1 Aversion )

Opinion of Dominus/ Crowd/ Gladiators towards Zalmoxis: +5 D / +2 C / +5 G

20 is the maximum score regarding affection, aversion and opinion.
As mentioned in the guide, affection and aversion can only accumulate, while opinion can be lost.


2/2

>>6093592
>stays silent

>>6093592
> stay silent
The Latin gets it. Maybe it even increases the option of gladiators towards us, because they are using the poor thing as an aggression release valve (against Romans). And bonus aff to eris is good.

By the way, how did Zalmoxis fare in eris' test? Have you mixed up post order?

>>6093734

I find it more rewarding when a voted decision doesn't get the spotlight right away. I love that you noticed it's absence though, means that you're paying attention

>>6093592
>stays silent

>>6093592
>>argues with Bormanicus

>>6093711 | >>6093734 | >>6094375 | >>6094460

The Thracian stays silent

Eris


...fourteen, fifteen, sixteen virgins are taking care of the temple of Hestia...
Orphans silently steal sourdough from a bakery near the Servian Wall until the sleep of a nearby cane corso is disturbed by an unpleasant tail pull...

... four hundred sixty-seven, four hundred sixty-eight, four hundred sixty-nine wooden pillars support the ongoing construction of the nearly finished Flavian Amphitheatre...
A man pursues a distressed woman that is sprinting through a dark street on the Quirinal Hill, a wave of a hand follows and she trips on the cobblestone screaming and terrified...

... ten, eleven, twelve dead bodies float in the Tiber river tonight...

A dark shadow is gliding over Rome, alone and bored, observing the city's night lights from bird's eye view. The evening is plain and uneventful ever since Virgo received Eris's permission to return to the night sky in order to guide those who follow the naval star routes.

Too pure of a soul, that one, but how can I say no to her...

Robbed of her company, now the goddess rests her head with one hand while laying on a passing cloud, belly first, as if she is on one of those patrician dining couches. Eris is trying to slip in sweet slumber by counting whatever her eyes see. Is it working? Not really.

On each end of the Viminal Hill she sees two large rectangular areas filled with sand and surrounded by high brick walls. Next to each of them there is a gymnasium with a ceiling, then barracks for sleeping and bathing, a common kitchen. Two gladiator schools. To each stand much fancier buildings made out of marble, not brick - the Dominus quarters. Each has it's own type of fauces, atrium, compluvium and impluvium, reception rooms oeci, feasting bedrooms cubicula, household shrines of the lares and penates...

...ugh, those minions of father... Eris rolls her eyes with ancient contempt.

The Cohortes Urbanae have a strong presence around the two schools, understandably so. She is heading to the one housing her entertaining peon but she won't pay him a visit tonight. His master is the one she wants to observe.


Cont.

>>6095248

"I can't believe that you send Apollonia to that animal! I was saving her chastity for that Kimbrian that we saw in Ophelia's, the one with the godly symmetry and limb proportions, and now you have dirtied her, I can't even offer her as gift to someone." the agitated Saturnina Augur Sisenna complains to her husband in their bedchambers. Two slaves are in attendance, one being the Teuton girl that is the center of conversation. Both of her cheeks are bright red from embarrassment and the slaps of the Domina. The only thing she can muster to do, in order not to burst in tears again, is to stare at her toes in shame.

That 'animal' is putting food on your table. Zalmoxis had excellent performance the other day, he needed a proper reward. You should have seen Lysimachus's face when his fighter got his head chopped off clean at the shoulders. What humiliation! Right in front of that questor, whose wife you were trying to win over, too. That alone costs what ten virgins fetch in coin... Dominus answers.

Bormanicus is the one who keeps your school's reputation in high regard, Julius. Saturnina removes her red wig and jumps in bed. You won't error if you display your affection and favor towards him more often.

I favor us, deliciae Julius Sisenna joins his wife and squeezes her cheeks.

...and the pool doesn't have water again, this forsaken heat will kill me. Saturnina is now naked.

As long as I leave the magister impressed tomorrow, the funds that we'll get from participating in the emperor's games will buy you a hundred blond virgins and just as many pools... a mature slave is preparing the master for a wife bedding by keeping his cock in her mouth.

The Teuton girl is looking around insecure of what to do until Domina notices her confusion and waives an impatient hand dismissively.

Ugh, go away, child...


Cont.

It's late night and most of the household slaves are sleeping. The Teuton is walking alone in one of the marble corridors, detecting a familiar presence with her womanly intuition. She turns a corner and there stands a tall woman with ashen violet skin, dark violet lips, floating raven black hair and red eyes that look almost friendly. She is leaning back on a decorative column, purple tunic covers her bosom and ends at her knees. The Teuton girl's head can't wrap itself around the visage of the otherworldly figure that stands in front of her and can only process one simple thought at a time, the first one being - the purple color indicates highest nobility.

"Only the emperor can wear that color..." she whispers.

"Why's that?" the goddess plays along.

"Because he is a walking god..." the Teuton is flabbergasted.

A thin smile plays on Eris's face.

"Vespatian is of higher quality than the average degenerate that roams this cesspool of a city, this is true. But don't put him on such high pedestal. If you see what's under that regal toga of his you won't find anything but decrepitness and stench. But if you are on the search for true imperial qualities, you can take a look under mine."

The girl doesn't respond.

"What's your name?" Eris asks.

"Apollonia..."

"I'm not asking for your fake slave name, what is your real name?"

The Teuton is about to answer.

"No, let me guess." Eris gets closer, her hands gently grab the girl's head and her wide open eyes stare her down. "Your name is Edelgard. I have an offer for you, sweet thing" both are looking at each other from an intimate distance.

"What if I take away the pain your vulva is in right now? What if I restore your maidenhead, bringing back your honor? What if I have your shame lifted and have the dirty deed forgotten by everyone? Would you want me to aid your freedom? Before you answer, know that if you take me on my offer, there will be a place and time when I will need your service and once I have told you what I want, you won't be able to say 'no'."

A rush of a fiery bodily humors overwhelm Apollonia and she responds...

>"Take away my shame and bring me back the way I was before! Aid me at my search for freedom! Trice yes is my response as you are my salvation!" the girl replies with exaltation.
Eris shoves a long finger in her mouth and with her saliva draws two crossed lines over her own left breast. It's done she answers, satisfied.

>"My gods don't live in these lands and you never introduced yourself. You must be Loki! How can one posses such beauty and magnificence, if it isn't an illusion? And your offer - just one of your tricks! Leave me alone to my sorrow..."
The girl runs away and Eris is left with a raised eyebrow. She likes the disagreeing types.

>>6095475
>"My gods don't live in these lands and you never introduced yourself. You must be Loki! How can one posses such beauty and magnificence, if it isn't an illusion? And your offer - just one of your tricks! Leave me alone to my sorrow..."

>>6095475
>"My gods don't live in these lands and you never introduced yourself. You must be Loki! How can one posses such beauty and magnificence, if it isn't an illusion? And your offer - just one of your tricks! Leave me alone to my sorrow..."

>>6095475
>"Take away my shame and bring me back the way I was before! Aid me at my search for freedom! Trice yes is my response as you are my salvation!" the girl replies with exaltation.
Are you also writing on SpaceBattles or other collaborative fiction sites, anon?

>>6095520
>>6095531
>>6096329 no, just here

Eris won't have a secret trump card

Zalmoxis


Eight gladiators stand shoulder to shoulder, patiently waiting. Fully clad in armor, respective of their individual fighting styles, they face the same direction - the unoccupied marble balcony from which Dominus usually observes their training. They can feel the heat under their roman styled sandals, each strand of boiled leather tightly hugs their legs to the knee in an intricate crisscrossed pattern, the sand is boiling hot despite the low position of the sun on the horizon.

"It's an unusually hot summer, Helios must be despondent" the magister's wife, Lucretia, says with cheerful note in her voice. She is in her late twenties, skinny, short in stature and wears a bright red tunic with a blond wig, popularized in the Roman highlife by the influx of northern captives. She is walking with huge strides, impatient to see Sisenna's slave fighter collection.

"Indeed..." Sisenna agrees, not really in the mood for small talk. His wife is walking on Lucretia's other side, doing a better job at entertaining her. The magister didn't show up, his wife excused him by saying that he was sick with fever. Now Sisenna felt like he was stuck playing babysitter, unable to use his carefully researched topics of discussion that the magister would have liked, unable to unleash that charisma of his that only shows itself when he is under huge pressure.

Julius Sisenna and Lucretia, accompanied by a dozen house slaves and as many soldiers, reach a second floor balcony that gives an impeccable view over the training grounds.

"Salute!" Nefersan, the Egyptian Doctore, orders. The gladiators raise their weapon, greeting the arrived nobles.

"Oh, how menacing your sweaty barbarians are!" Lucretia exclaims like a child that is about to get a treat.

'I can still make this work. Lucretia has her husband's ear, if she leaves impressed I can still secure my place in the games...' Sisenna thinks and continues...

"For the first bout, I have prepared for you a clash between old barbarian nemeses of Rome. On one side is Teutobott, the best of the Teutons, who faces a savage cousin - Odovacker, the Kimbrian. Doctore, let's begin!"

Soon the two Germans are the only ones left on the training ground. Teutobott has donned a bear skin, despite the heat, the theatrics of the show are important. His weapon is a huge war hammer that he swings with ease. His opponent carries a big shield in one hand and on the other - a metal contraption that goes around his forearm with a single metal stinger coming out of it. The fighting starts and each movement, each strike, is made with great precision. Only the best in the gladiatorial trade would have noticed the subtle signs betraying the fight as staged. The steady shattering of the shield, the blocks on the thrusts coming from the metal stinger, each grunt or last second dodge - all fake. Sisenna wants to protect his investments for the actual arena.

1/3

Finally the Teuton slams the head of his hammer in his opponent's breast plate with enough force to get the wind out of his lungs but not enough to break a rib and Odovacker sells it, raising his hand in surrender.

Hestor and Boadicon go next, participating in the charade by having their fight dance under the eyes of Lucretia. Hestor wins the mock battle and flatters her beauty in Greek, making her clap her hands ecstatically.

I thought Greeks were too sophisticated to be gladiators, I might want to buy this one later she says amused.

"If you are impressed now, wait until you see who comes next. He is Orpheus the Thracian, but metamorphosed, returning from the underworld grief-stricken in his failure to bring his wife to the world of the living. Zalmoxis, make your appearance!"

A man comes forward, fully covered in a black cloak. His dear friend, Morena, joins him on the grueling hot sand a few seconds later in order not to steal his spotlight. Zalmoxis removes his cloak, revealing his gear and two wooden replicas of his weapons, the rhomphaia and the scythe. Morena, as any hoplomachus, readies his spear and shield.

Why is he using wooden swords? He looks like my nephew when playing... Lucretia asks disappointed.

"Ah, that's a proper remark for someone gentle enough to be generally uninterested in this gruesome sport. You see, Zalmoxis's skills are reaching a caliber of such magnitude that the only way we can assure that this bout would not end instantly, ending your pleasure prematurely, is to have him use wooden weapons." Sisenna saves face.

The grief-stricken Orpheus wants to join his wife in death, that's why he becomes a different person with a different name altogether. If someone is carrying the name Zalmoxis, he must be death personified in all aspects of his demeanor, including his weaponry, isn't it so? Lucretia asserts thoughtfully.

"The young Domina is right. Doctore, give the Thracian real weapons."

While handing him the steel rhomphaia and scythe, Doctore whispers: "Make it convincing."

The fight starts and all movements that Zalmoxis and Morena have been rehearsing rigorously throughout the night are executed perfectly. The Thracian often uses the scythe to pull the hoplomachus's shield away, creating an opening for a body or neck strike. The Illyrian steps back in an instant, creating enough distance to not be stricken and advances like a hoplite - spear over shield, keeping Zalmoxis away. The rhomphaia, the other curved weapon, is effective at grabbing the head of the spear, Zalmoxis pulls Morena towards him. The beast fighter has ungodly strength and manages to stay on his feet, swinging the butt of his spear towards Zalmoxis's helmet. The game of cat and mouse continues for some time, no one being able to catch the other with a significant blow. Realizing that, Zalmoxis starts speeding up his movements.

2/3

Got to make it convincing, right? Zalmoxis only lips to Morena, warning him.

For a time Morena is able to follow him, dodging and blocking his increasingly faster and harder movements. Hot sand flies everywhere, shifted by the two pairs of fast muscle bound legs. The intensity of the fighting escalates even more and Zalmoxis starts to see weaknesses in Morena's form. A foot stays unprotected and the Thracian cuts it, a shoulder lays bare and unshielded - Zalmoxis makes a surface wound, a spear arm doesn't retract fast enough - it gets a gentle slice.

Blood starts flowing, decorating the sand beneath their feet. Lucretia loves it, clapping at every successful cut, commenting and gasping at every proper dodge or strike.

That Thracian is spectacular! Saturnina, you were right to invite me here! she exclaims surprised.

At another faint charge and change of trajectory Zalmoxis gets close enough to slam his body in the hoplite shield, sending Morena on the ground with a thud. Unable to continue and admitting his defeat, the Illyrian raises two fingers in sign of submission, nodding ever so slightly to Zalmoxis who is hovering above him with a friendly smirk.

"The Thracian is waiting for your pardon, Domina" Sisenna reminds Lucretia.

Pardon? I don't want to pardon his enemy...

Now she addresses Zalmoxis directly.

Be true to your name, oh death, and bring this miserable man to his end! You can send a message through him to your love, the one dwelling in the underworld Lucretia feels a strange new tingle in her body - bloodlust, that has never been previously explored, now meets sexual arousal.

The Thracian's eyes meet those of master Sisenna. His Dominus nods approvingly.


>Zalmoxis kills Morena
"I'm sorry, friend. I'll make them pay one day." (Eris gains +1 Affection towards Zalmoxis ("Ruthless, just the way I like you") | +2 Dominus opinion ("Lucretia should be satisfied now.") | -1 gladiator opinion (Killed someone from our own school))

>Zalmoxis refuses to kill Morena
"This man is a dear friend and more. We've drank each others blood mixed in mare milk, we are now brothers. Brothers on the fighting sand, or nailed on a cross - it doesn't matter to me as I am not killing him" the Thracian addresses the Roman nobles. ( Eris gains +2 Affection towards him ("Forget Fortuna, Thracian, I am the one who will favor your boldness now...") | -3 Dominus opinion ( "Went against my will in front of a high noble matron") | +2 gladiator opinion (Had the courage to go against the master)

___________________________________________________________
Eris's view of the Thracian: Amusing Peon ( +1 Affection; 0 Aversion )
the Thracian's view of Eris: Annoying Miscreant ( 0 Affection; +1 Aversion )

Opinion of Dominus/ Crowd/ Gladiators towards Zalmoxis: +5 D / +2 C / +5 G

3/3

>>6096920
>Zalmoxis refuses to kill Morena

>>6096920
>Zalmoxis refuses to kill Morena

>>6096920
Write in allowed? Otherwise, refuse
>Pretend to strangle Morena to death, then get the others to drag him away

>>6097151
that's a cheap loophole anon, also it's not a proper gladiator death

>>6097153
Cheap hole? I didnt know we were talking about the magisters wife.

>>6097160
lmao

I've wanted to write an entitled yet smart bimbo for some time now, the magister's wife is in the perfect position to be one

>>6097189
Now I wait to see if the Dominus is mad and so is the bimbo wife, or the Dominus is mad but the bimbo wife actually thinks our gladiator is so much more then a barbarian so the Dominus switches from openly mad to secretly seething as he compliments her keen eye. Or maybe something entirely different!

>>6096920
>Zalmoxis refuses to kill Morena
Optimal meta is optimal. Not only we get +2 eris affection, Zalmoxis stays in character and we have a ton of Dominus option to spare. We would also milk gladiator option, and build toward the gladiator rebellion, but I secretly hope for a Gladiator ending (loved by the crowd, we get killed by a rigged match fighting for the wooden sword)

>>6097068
>>6097143
>>6097151
>>6097319

Zalmoxis refuses to kill Morena

Zalmoxis


"This man is a dear friend and more. We've drank each others blood mixed in mare milk, we are now brothers. Brothers on the fighting sand, or nailed on a cross - it doesn't matter to me as I am not killing him..." the Thracian addresses the Roman nobles with a stern face.

Not even finished with his sentence, Doctore's whip wraps itself around his neck with malicious sound. The Egyptian giant pulls hard and Zalmoxis is sent flying towards him, the sand cushions his fall as he finds himself in Nefersan's feet.

Sisenna feels as if time has stopped, his face is red from anger and embarrassment. His slave has went against his will, publicly at that. 'What kind of master allows such frivolities from those bound to serve him? Not a strong one, not someone who is in the habit of getting the job done' - this is the impression that he is leaving on his valuable guest. All of this goes through his head for less than a second, Zalmoxis has barely landed in Doctore's feet, clutching his neck, choking. 'What is the best course of action now?' Sisenna asks himself. He decides to own up to it.

"This was a great example of what happens when one treats his property like his equal. I'll make sure that both of them receive the cross as punishment for going against your command, our beloved Lucretia."

Lucretia's face has lost it's smile and is now serious, almost sullen, and lost in thought.

"You will do no such thing" she says absentmindedly. "Was there supposed to be one last duel?"

Julius is surprised that she willingly changes the subject, letting him go off the hook.

"Domina is correct. For the last bout, I'm proud to present the most skilled man that has ever walked among the walls of Familia Sinessa - our champion, Bormanicus the Iberian."


Cont.

A tanned man with medium height shows up on the boiling sand, holding a gladius and a legionnaire's shield. His helmet is ornamented with an intricate design imbibed in the metal during the forging process, on which two long red feathers now stick out. His sword hand is fully covered in scaled armor, his legs carry heavy guards. Despite his burdensome attire, the Iberian hasn't developed a massive body to support it, yet doesn't seem bothered by the weight. His excellent muscle conditioning can be noticed, bulging veins are visible on each limb. Whenever there is a drunken dispute in a Roman tavern over the title of best murmillo in the empire, the name 'Bormanicus' is always mentioned.

His opponent, a Roman man named Sestius, comes out holding his trident and net. He isn't confident in his step, Bormanicus has refused to spar with him throughout the night, their fight won't be rehearsed.

Sisenna has barely given the 'go' and the Iberian is already leaping through air towards his enemy. With just three gigantic steps he finds himself in range and swings his gladius, the Roman doesn't even have time to blink before his head flies from his shoulders. A fountain of blood covers the sand, Bormanicus carefully wipes the red liquid from his sword and puts it back in it's dark sheath.

"Domina wanted a kill, so I hope she is satisfied with my performance, after that... previous disgrace that just occurred. The champion always delivers." Bormanicus says after a considerate bow towards her.

Lucretia remains in her distant state and finally says to Sisenna:

"I've decided to spend the night here. Show me to my quarters" and she waives briefly to a bronze skinned Syrian slave to follow her.

Sisenna and Saturnina meet each other's eyes, confused, yet relieved.


Cont.

It's dark in the surgeon's room. Somewhere doors stay permanently open in order to allow for the constant flow of fresh air through the place, not allowing for stagnant stenches to linger. The surgeon is bandaging Zalmoxis's throat, after applying ointments where layers of skin have gone missing.

"Nefersan's whip is never swung with half-measures in mind." Hestor the Greek remarks after seeing the damage.

"If he didn't bring Zalmoxis down, Sisenna would have felt weak and without control. Surely he would have sent the soldiers to make him into mincemeat. Doctore effectively saved your life, you know" Morena says addressing the Thracian.

"And I saved yours" Zalmoxis's voice is raspy and dry.

"For which I'll be forever grateful. I would have gifted you the trajectory of my life as well if it wasn't for my wife on the outside..." feelings of melancholy forbid his voice of finishing the sentence. The Illyrian's wounds have already been bandaged.

An internal door, leading to the house of the Dominus, suddenly opens. Hestor, Zalmoxis, Morena, the resting wounded Syrian and even the surgeon are now looking at it, expecting the Cohortes Urbanae to storm in, looking for the Thracian troublemaker. Alas, a womanly leg makes it's way first through the doorstep.

The unexpected intruder is a young woman with bronze tanned skin, curly long black hair and even blacker eyes. She is more than tall and holds head's height over anyone in the room, yet her movements remain gracious and gentle. Each of her limbs carry a bracelet, donned with a single letter from the Greek alphabet. Her arms and legs are long and skinny, proportionate to her torso. Her neck wears a white collar that contrasts well with her skin. She is a slave. As she speaks, her dark lips uncover pearly teeth.

"That one who bears the name Zalmoxis needs to follow me, right now."


Cont.

Current Stats

Eris's view of the Thracian: Proper Plaything ( 3/20 Affection | 0 Aversion )
the Thracian's view of Eris: Annoying Miscreant ( 0 Affection | 1/20 Aversion )

Opinion of Dominus/ Crowd/ Gladiators towards Zalmoxis: 2/20 Dmn | 2/20 Crw | 7/20 Gld

The story will continue in the late evening or tomorrow

>>6097873
You good bud?