All Things To Honor

A Werewolf is enslaved and forced to fight in an arena against a gladiatorial vampire.

       
All Things To Honor

 

 

    The torch lit night blinded him as the cage slowly rose from the darkened under level ever upwards to the arena and the blood thirsty maddened crowds. The thick chains that bound him creaked against his strength as he strained to break down. A howl escaped from him and spittle flew from his mouth as the cage reached the arena.

 

    The jeering and loudness of the rabid crowd drove him half mad and he bared his fangs in rage. Legionnairs moved to grab the cage using iron pools to remove it from the moving area. He howled defiance at them as they carefully set the cage upon the arena floor. The Legionnairs slowly withdrew from the arena floor and the arena slowly came to a hush.

 

    A buzz begin to come from the crowd in whispered murmurs and hurried wagers being exchanged. A chant began from the far upper arena and slowly spread and built to a crescendo. The cage shook with howls, until even the howls were drowned out by the sheer volume of the chants. One word said over and over again.

 

    "CRISTOS!"
    "CRISTOS!"

 

    The chant continued for five enternal minutes before drums began to beat in time. The crowd swayed in time to the drums until finally the torch lights flared brilliantly. From above the night sky bloomed with light from a thousand burst of light in all shades and colors. The crowd gasp in delight and even the howls from the cage became hush.

 

    From above descended a figure dressed for combat. The helm upon his face, twisted into the caricature of an angel damned. Dark hair flowed from beneath the helm, dancing around him as his feet touched upon the arena floor. A cape of the darkest red trimmed in fur drapped about his broad shoulders. It dropped around his armored body, the armor awash in a thousand images of twisted and tortured souls. The man flexed his mailed hands and bowed to the crowd.

 

    The crowd once again grew wild with cheers and chants as the man twirled and bowed north, south, east, and west. A smiled curved his lips ever so slightly, showing off the whiteness of his fangs. He turned finally to the cage approaching it with confidence. The odor eminating from it phased him not as he stopped just out of arms reach of the cage.

 

    Such pathetic creatures, passed idly through his mind. Hardly fit for the marshal arts. Little better than snarling animals. He would give the people what they wanted though. On this Feast of the Hollowed Eve they would enact the ancient code. Death to all Were's.

 

    His lips curled ever wider as he stared into the maddened eyes of the werewolf. His hand slowly moved to release the locks on the cage. The blood pounded within him as he could feel the ancient call begin to build. He would honor the code....

Author's Note

All reviews are welcome.

Reviews

[Nely Amorim]

Haven't you had this piece up here before? I may be wrong but in any case, bad place to stop!! it was getting great, i love the way you described the scene and the scents and sounds of the arena.. it came alive in my mind. hope theres more to come in this story. the fight scene would be very interesting :)