Day 45
Micheal
Feeling the rough sandstone beneath my skin-like carapace, I slowly scrubbed down the blood staining my body with a wet cloth rag. As I moved the cloth up and down my body, I felt all the small and large scars covering it, a testant to all the life and death battle's my body had gone through. When I reached the scarred stump of my left arm, I couldn't help but feel a sense of grim despondency at the seemingly hopeless peril I've found myself in.
It was to my great surprise that after the Mauling I hadn't actually died. While I was sure I was facing death the mont the reaver skewered through and through, I had been quite wrong in an assumption of mine; embarrassingly so. What I hadn't taken into account was the fact that I was no longer human. That evidently ant that my organs weren't necessarily placed exactly mirrored to that of human biology.
Instead, my heart was actually more centered a lower than that of a normal human, which ant that the reaver's blade had missed my heart by only a hair's breadth. When I woke up after the encounter, I found myself being tended by so insane orc doctor that seed to almost want to dissect rather than tend to my wounds. If not for a few guards standing watch while I was getting tended to, I would've most likely been cut and split open to satisfy that manic orc's curiosity.
While I was beyond happy I hadn't t my end in this shithole, it had only gone downhill from there. What I had thought to be so grand event only held occasionally, was actually only the prelude to sothing much greater. Days of carnage and pain had followed, and the days and nights were starting to blend together. It had taken its toll.
It wasn't just the constants fights, as I also had visits by a particularly sadistic gremlin every now and then. The Mistress and guards seed indifferent to Jeerbal torturing , so I could only take the pain and hope my mind held together. The only reason why I hadn't succumbed to insanity or beco a husk of my forr self was my trait, A Conqueror's Will.
It was the only barrier that kept from fully spiraling into madness, but that's not to say that I was completely unaffected. My bloodthirst had grown sowhat uncountable recently. I had trouble even restraining myself from assaulting the guards and had already dismbered a hobgoblin maid that had brought food by accident, just after I had finished an intense and close life and death match.
Whenever I saw another living being, it was like a burning fire beca lit deep inside my chest, screaming for to tear open their throats and drink the gushing spurts of blood that would inevitably follow. I knew that before I even was captured I already had a certain bloodlust, a love for battle and carnage, but it was also completely under my control.
It wasn't simply because I liked killing, it was due to the addictive feeling of not only possessing power but also the sense of victory and success that always followed an intense battle. Now that feeling had vanished from my battles in the Arena, simply leaving an uncontrollable bloodthirst. I wasn't sure if it would even be possible for to recover if I ever managed to get out of this hell hole alive...
I had begun to worry that soon I might have reached the point of no return and would turn into sothing like Morgath, as I sowhat expected for him to have undergone the sa circumstances as I. While I wasn't sure about his ntal state as I haven't even seen his face, I knew he definitely wasn't all there, simply acting and moving like a puppet on strings or so kind of subservient zombie.
I was definitely still hanging in there, not wanting to succumb, but the days of battle and torture could definitely be seen reflected whenever I fought. Now when I entered those fighting grounds I would beco like an indifferent and bloodthirsty drone, mindlessly fighting for so aloof queen, my only desire staying alive and slaughtering my opponents.
It's been more than twenty days since I've been enslaved to the Mistress. I haven't seen her ever since the first ti, but that hadn't stopped her from continuously throwing into this godforsaken arena to fight her fights. But these fights weren't just for entertainnt as I had originally guessed. Apparently, infighting between the warlords and other figures of authority in this city for things like more power and land was strictly forbidden. The only way to ascend and showcase their respective powers being through their servants.
We were truly only fodder, as each opponent after the mauling seed to get stronger and more ferocious. The Mauling had only been a warm-up, a preamble for the real tournant. The fodder, aning and the other's who had fought in the Mauling, was simply so slaves the warlords off-handly presented for a sort of opening ceremony for the real fights.
But now and then you would be lucky enough the see a gem in the rough, or a hidden star amongst the usually pathetically weak fodder. They would be presented the opportunity to fight with the real line-up of the warlords. These were a lot stronger, and I was baffled that I had almost t my end once again already just the next fight after the Mauling.
Each warlord had ten warriors they would pit against each other in life and death battles in the Arena. Unfortunately, the Mistress had already selected ten warriors, and with now the 11th, I had to choose one and challenge their seat... or die. It was this fight I had almost died in once again.
I had underestimated the beastkin, a female wielding two daggers who could move at insane speeds even greater than my own, except for when I used Blink. It had been a heated battle, and I could only curse the Mistress since if I had my magic available the fight would've been over almost instantly.
But there was actually a reason for her locking down my magic other than to keep in line as a slave. It was because the Arena didn't allow for the use of magic, as it's usually seen down upon in ritual duels as the ones perford in the Arena by greenskin culture. Luckily I barely managed to take down the beastkin by landing a grazing slash infused with Paralyze.
Due to her build leaning towards primarily agility and dexterity, the little amount of paralytic compound that entered from the small wound I had caused was more than enough to slow her down considerably. After that, it had simply beco a trivial matter of cutting down my enemy, and so I took my spot as the 10th seat of the Mistress.
These line-ups of ten individual warriors from eight houses of warlords would be pitted together in a struggle for life and death. But this wasn't the only thing they were fighting for, as these battles are yet another prelude to sothing even grander. The Champions. Over the years and decades, the warlords of Maldrak had been collecting champions. Spearheads of their authority.
These champions were the true extension of their proverbial hands over the city; their power. Fights between the champions were what truly were the gems of the Arena. Each warlord could have at most three champions, the strongest warriors under their influence. The Mauling and the tournant of life and death was to find the strongest of the ten chosen warriors and give them the chance to earn the title of Champion.
If the strongest warrior of the ten line-ups of a warlord who already had three champions, then that warrior would need to challenge one of the three seats... or die refusing to fight. All the warlords of Maldrak actually already had three champions each, except for the Mistress. I had found out that the Mistress was actually a new warlord, taken the position of the previous warlord with trial by combat. As she was a relatively new addition, she only had two champions, who I've already t. Felendren and Morgath.
But even though she was the warlord with a deficit compared to the others, she was actually the one who wielded the most power in the city. This was due to the oddity of her two champions. Both her champions wielded power beyond their ranks and levels, most likely because of the Mistress' tampering of their bodies.
Magic was forbidden in the Arena, but she had sohow circumvented that, causing a lot of discord and dissent amongst the populous. But seeing as she didn't actually break the ancient rules of duels, they could only keep their discontent to themselves. There were even rumors of her not even being a greenskin, which caused to sigh in despondence from what I actually knew her to be.
But all the intricacies of Maldrak and greenskins was the least of my worries, as I pulled up my status with a mixture of contemplation, excitent, and worry coloring my face.
Ti was running out...
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