Xinskarr - The Arena

Xinskarr awakened in a dark room. He was surrounded by bars, and chains. He tried to stand up, but was pulled down to the ground with a mighty crash. This must be the arena he thought as he processed the situation. Footsteps echoed in the dark room. Xinskarr frantically studied the dark expanse, searching for a body to link the footsteps to, with no success. A voice came from the darkness “Creoso a' i' dagora talar' “The Dragonborn didn’t understand what was said. He sat there and pondered. A sword slid to Xinskarr. Xinskarr picked up the sword and stood, being able to survey the situation properly. A large crowd was cheering nearby. Then his mind started to recall the night were his kin was massacred; “Sell this one to the gladiators” replayed in his mind over and over again. Then a bright light stunned him. An Elf walked up to him, glared at him and whispered “Fight!” in the same mysterious voice and disappeared into the darkness. Xinskarr knew what was happening, and darted into the light.

As Xinskarr eyes adjusted to the bright light, he was able to pick out details about where he stood. He was in an arena. Humans, Half-Elves, and Elves cheered for blood, and an Orc stood there, in the middle of it all, basking in the shouts for more blood, whilst a unit of humans cleared away an Elf’s body. The crowd chanted “Varkgorim the Invincible”. This confused Xinskarr. Why were they excited about murder he contemplated. A Human rised and the audience silenced. This Human was wearing a gold crown on his head. This must be the King of this bloodthirsty audience Xinskarr calculated. A shout was heard from this King “Let the Battle Commence!”

The crowd cheered as the Orc smiled at the Dragonborn. He shook his spiked club in the air, spreading blood on the sand, and charged. Xinskarr held his ground, and at the last minute, he dived out of the way. This triggered a delayed reaction in the Orcs movement; he gradually slowed down. Xinskarr planned his next move accordingly. He retreated towards a nearby wall of the arena. He knocked his sword against the wall and shouted “Come here, Riika.” The Orc spun around, wiped the bloodthirsty drool from his mouth and charged. Everything is going to plan he thought. The Orc was charging head first. Xinskarr stood firm, as if he was going to take the damage. The Orc sped up. Xinskarr waited, sword raised. The Orc released a battle cry. Now! Xinskarr thought. The Dragonborn tumbled out of the way. A loud thud was heard and the crowd fell silent. Debris hit Xinskarr’s back. The Orc’s head was in the wall. He marched towards the Orc, and stood on his shoulder. He looked around to meet the eyes of the spectators. With one jab, the sword penetrated the Orc’s neck and scraped the wall. The crowd’s silence was met by a solitary clap from the King. Then the sound lifted. The bloodthirsty crowd got what it wanted, and cheered louder than Xinskarr was greeted by. Xinskarr walked towards the dark room, but stopped. He was in the centre of the arena, where the victorious Orc was standing. And he lifted his fist. The crowd’s noise levels rose to deafening feats. Xinskarr enjoyed the attention, and started to bask in it, just like the Orc before him. He let the achievement wash over him. I just killed the invincible he thought, with a smile on his face. He then disappeared back into the dark room.

Xinskarr was met by the Elf that sent him to fight. The elf spoke: “lle ier quel yassen a megil”. Xinskarr scorned at the Elf with a closed fist and replied “I don’t speak Elvish.” The Elf repeated himself “You are good with a sword.” Xinskarr stayed silent. The Elf explained the situation Xinskarr was in. According to the Elf, Xinskarr was sold into the Gladiator Corps; a bunch of fighters that killed each other for the public’s entertainment. The fighters had to stay in the Gladiator Corps until they die. The Elf stated that for every five fighters, there was one trainer, and that he was Xinskarr’s trainer. The Trainers, he exclaimed, was held responsible for who fought who in the arenas, and was also held responsible for the fighters, or as the Elf put it, “di'thang”. The Elf took Xinskarr to the armoury. This was where he would choose his weapon that he’ll use for the rest of his life. Xinskarr picked up two iron shortswords. He admired them in his hands. “I’ll take them” exclaimed Xinskarr.