Since I couldn't get myself to write more about Gaius, I decided to give that story a break, and instead try a different character. This was the result.

Author's note: I'm portraying the Arena of the Imperial City in a different way than it is presented in Oblivion - not a coluntary fighting Arena, but a place where prisoners of war and criminals are stuffed to die after being given training with weaponty and the like.

Chapter I

The burning village was full of cries of despair and hatred. The mounted Legionnaires paid no attention to this horrifying music, though, killing the Ra Gada warriors that dared oppose them. Not one fell from a lance or a sword, and that was the punishment a small desert village would receive for a rebellion. Against the lightly armed Redguard infantry, the disciplined cavalry of the Legion seemed invincible, partially because of the advantage their steeds gave them. Still, even though they killed warriors, they weren’t mindlessly planting death right and left – women and children were spared, if they chose so. But most chose to burn with their homes.

“Oi! Hold some for the Arena; we’ll have plenty of pleasure later!”

This shout that pierced the air came from who was undoubtedly the officer of these soldiers, as easily presumed by the armor which was colored lighter than the standard issue Legion armor, also decorated with gold heavily. The Imperial’s hand was grasping a long spear, bloody from all the fighting it had seen today.

Laughter hit the air as soon as the officer spoke, and the Legionnaires’ way of fighting turned from offensive to defensive lighting-fast – a sign of perfect discipline the Legion was famous for. This turned out to be effective enough – several Redguards were knocked out as soon as they started showing signs of weariness. But several Redguards still held, and among them was a relatively young one, fighting it out with a spear and a large shield. The fact that he had a wall behind him, and a large shield and a spear effectively keeping the cavalrymen away made him appear victorious for some time.

Not for long. A cavalryman charged at him from the left, though the Imperial was quick to direct his horse away as soon as the enormous spear turned towards him. Unfortunately for the warrior, another Legionnaire took advantage from this, hitting him in the back of his head painfully. After a ‘thud’, the Redguard fell down, knocked unconscious.

With the thud, the Redguard woke up from his uneasy sleep, breathing heavily. Another thud, so similar to the one in the dream, and a hit in the back of his head followed. Realizing what was happening, the Redguard lifted himself off of the ground, looking at his surroundings with bloodshot eyes.

The dirty cell he was in was certainly not a place one would like to end up in. The walls were crude rocks, with many sticks painted on them, along with not one puddle of dried blood, several in the shapes of palms. The floor was only bare ground, with quite a few sharp rocks sticking out. Several bones lying nearby the walls and the bars didn’t help cheer up the mood. Speaking of the bars, they were the only source of light, though the majority of it was currently being blocked by a person that was standing at the bars. A rock in his hand indicated that he was the one responsible for the hit in the head the Redguard received, since a similar rock was lying nearby his head.

The person blocking the light was a middle-aged Imperial, clad in iron armor. A blade was hanging by his side, almost reaching the ground due to the short height of the man – five and a half feet at most, maybe less. The legs were oddly stretched, and the broad shoulders and long, muscular arms didn’t make him look better. His facial features weren’t the best, too – somewhat fat lips, a humped nose and large, silver-colored eyes. To top that, his hair was too short to cover these features up at least a bit, so he was left with what he had, and it wasn’t much. To tell the truth, the Redguard in the cell wasn’t surprised that this Imperial was stuffed somewhere as rotten as the Arena of the Imperial City – he wasn’t something he would choose to keep in the Legion, or the Fighters’ Guild. Still, this man made it to become the Blademaster of the Arena, after the previous one died after an unsuccessful attempt at demonstrating how wild lions are supposed to be dealt with.

“Wake up, scum. You’ve been having your beauty sleep long enough now, it’s time to fight!” The Blademaster proclaimed, throwing the second rock at the Redguard. The man in the cell was quick enough to dodge it, though almost fell down after the movement – he was still not fully awake. The Imperial spat, a sarcastic smile curling up on his face, sticking the key into the keyhole. With a loud clang, the bars opened, and the Redguard slowly walked out into the bleak light of the Bloodworks.

In the bleak light, the looks of the Redguard could be observed with less difficulty than in the dark cell.

The Redguard was somewhere around five feet eight inches tall. Built in a well-toned way, he looked like an agile warrior, in contrast to the heavy Imperial that was currently starring at him with hate and disgust. Still, from the first glance you could see that the Redguard was a prisoner – many scars and wounds, undoubtedly made by a whip, both on his chest and on his back were visible now that the man was wearing nothing except for a dirty loincloth, held in place by a wide leather belt.

As much as his body contrasted with the Imperial’s, so did his face. The Redguard was no beauty king, though his thin lips, mid-sized nose and maybe only a bit too small sea-green eyes would’ve captured the attention of a woman, if effort was put. But now, getting a woman was the last thing he thought of. At the current moment, what mattered was survival of another battle in the Arena. There was no telling who he would face – lions? Other gladiators? Monsters?

“Well, come on, move up, Charon! There’s no time for glorious processions!” The Blademaster yelled again, slamming his fist on the back of the man he just called Charon. The Redguard looked back at him with hatred, and there was no doubt that if Charon got a sword for a single second, he would’ve stabbed the Imperial right on the spot, even if his life depended on the life of the man. But now, Charon had no choice but to move forward.

The pair walked through a torch-lit corridor, passing not one or two cells similar to Charon’s on their way. Various people could be seen inside the cells – Imperials, Bretons, Nords, Redguards, Dunmer, Bosmer, Altmer… All prisoners were occupied with different things – be it sleeping, pointing on the walls or whatever else – but none let the Blademaster pass without hissing at him, or expressing their hate in other ways. One Redguard even dared to spit at the hated man, though he missed. Maybe it was for the best, though – the Blademaster of the Arena wasn’t exactly known to for patience when dealing with gladiators.

Finally, the duo made it to a quite large room that looked relatively well in comparison to the rest of the Bloodworks. The walls were made out of bricks – something not found in the cells – and the floor was covered with rocks, not as crude as the ones making up the walls of the cells. In the opposite end of the room, stairs could be seen, rising up to the Arena. Many tables were lined along the walls, with weapons and armor of gladiators upon each. Maces, nets, shortswords, daggers, tridents, spears…

The Blademaster took a large arm guard from one of the tables and tossed it to Charon. The Redguard caught it easily, and started putting it on. Meanwhile, the Imperial collected a trident, a net and a dagger in a sheath, and, seeing that Charon was armored and set to go, tossed him the weapons as well.

Now, Charon looked battle-ready. The large arm guard, ranging from his wrist to his shoulder, was the only armor he wore, yet that allowed him to be more agile than any other gladiator types. In his left hand, the Retiarius was holding the trident, and in his right hand, the net was grasped. Strapped to his wide belt was the dagger, which was the only weapon he could use if he lost his net and his trident.

Slowly, Charon walked towards the tunnel leading up to the Arena. The Blademaster looked as he disappeared behind the corner, before spitting and turning around, leaving the room as well. He was confident that the Redguard would die today, and he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. Training gladiators was a pain for him, because they had a tendency to die after the first fight – especially Retiarii.

I thought the Rentiarius also wore a helmet, but that's all irrelevant detail. After all, this is Cyrodiil, not Rome.

So far, I like the premise a lot. The battle was good, although perhaps a tad too onesided. Redguards have to have gotten their reputation as badass from somewhere. But then again, the Legions must have gotten their reputation from somewhere as well.

And you got the mood of the arena's holding area down. So, good stuff.

A promising start, though I wouldn't have minded a more subtle way of introducing the way the characters look. I still enjoyed the atmosphere of the holding cells though. I'll definitely be checking up on this.

I really like the direction you've took with the Arena. If I'm ever to write a fan fic set in Oblivion I'll surely change a few things to make Cyrodiil seem more roman than medieval. Just so you know though, gladiators weren't really treated like walking pieces of trash. Most of them were professional fighters and gladiators were quite an expensive thing to have, much alike to a modern-day football or rugby team. They were split into teams, which had their own personal medic and a sponsor that paid all the expenses. A gladiator dying in a fight was quite rare, since a new one was pretty expensive to train from scratch. Anyway, Cyrodiil ain't Rome so you can style it your own way.

I'm really curious to see who Charon is paired up with. Retiarii were usually paired up with heavier armoured gladiators like Secutors or Murmillos.

Well, it was supposed to be one-sided - after all, it was a loose bunch of Redguards against a well-disciplined unit of Imperial Cavalry.


Yes, I know all that, but what I wanted for this fan fic was a place to stuff criminals and prisoners of war to be stuffed in. As you said, it's Cyrodiil, not Rome.

Chapter II

As he slowly rose up the circular stairs, the grey color surrounding Charon slowly gave in to light. The bricks making up the walls slowly turned light grey. The dried blood on the wall became dark red, instead of light grey. And then, out of sudden, a bright light appeared, blinding the Redguard for a moment. Several tears appeared in his eyes. Rubbing them, he had to lower his gaze until he got used to the light.

Not only light hit Charon upon reaching the end of his path. A great noise struck him as well, consisting of the mixed yells of the spectators, the sound of heavy iron gates slamming down behind him and the trumpets that were sounded as soon as he approached the gates separating him from the arena, in which he was to engage in a fight for the pleasure of people he never knew. For the pleasure of people he hated, for the pleasure of people who enslaved him and his race…

As Charon got used to the light, he could get a better view at the arena, in which he fought for the first time today. The gates he was behind got in his way to a degree, though he could still get a good view to the battleground.

The arena was a round field, with a pit covered with bars in the middle, and four pillars standing out nearby the pit. Chains hung from each pillar - four chains for one pillar to be more exact. The ground was covered with sand, rocks and the occasional puddle of blood. Bones were scattered in the arena as well, and the smell most likely produced by the remaining flesh on them rotting wasn’t exactly helping the atmosphere get cheerful. The only thing that indicated joy was the yells of the people, though the joy was bloodthirsty joy, not simple joy.

While Charon was trying to get himself used to the surroundings, he didn’t even notice the shout ‘Begin!’ . The Redguard only got to his senses when the gates in front of him opened loudly. The same thing happened on the opposite side of the arena.

Slowly, Charon made his way out of the small room. He heard a loud ‘clang’ as the gates closed once again, leaving him trapped in this battlefield of sorts, on the opposite side of which he could easily see his opponent, a sight which quite unnerved the Redguard. His opponent had more than one advantage against his weapons, and Charon had no armor to speak of, except for the arm guard.

The person Charon was pitted against was heavily armed in comparison to him. While his opponent had no chestplate, similarly to the Redguard himself, he wore a helmet that covered his whole face, the only spots open being two eyeholes. The helmet had a rounded top, so it could be easily assumed that the helmet wouldn’t be caught in a net. The other things concerned Charon a bit less – a wide belt and a loincloth, similar to the one he wore himself, a large armguard, again similar to the one Charon used himself, and a greave made out of boiled leather on the opponent’s left leg.

But then there was another thing that made Charon unnerved – a large, rectangular shield that was carried by the gladiator that was here to fight him. The shield was a notably worn Imperial Scutum. Worn as it was, it was still more than fit for usage in combat. While Charon fought Legionnaires that used such shields, back then he had his own large shield, although a round one, and a long, trusty spear. Now, he was suited up in weapons he touched for the first time, and had no shield to speak of.

Still, the Redguard had to get into action, since the opposing gladiator was already heading for him, and the sight of the tip of the shortsword sticking out from behind the massive Scutum was not pleasant in the current situation.

Thus, forced into action, Charon started slowly moving along the right wall of the arena, holding his trident in front of him. The Secutor made note of this movement, and quickly began advancing to the same way that Charon was, also notably heading forward as well. It was sure that soon, he would be close enough to strike a blow that might’ve been the last one for Charon.

I must not give him the upper hand…The Redguard began slowly heading left, which resulted in the Secutor heading left as well, increasing the pace of his advance forward. This slightly unnerved Charon.

The Redguard made a quick run forward, heading towards the center of the arena. The Secutor stepped in his way, though Charon only jumped left, only barely avoiding the thrust of the dangerous shortsword that his enemy was wielding. Using the moment, he attempted to get a strike at the opponent’s chest with his trident, only to have the obvious attack be foiled once the large shield got between the body of the Secutor and Charon’s trident.

However, this did not confuse him at all. The Redguard sidestepped the blow that followed, again only barely missing him, and attempted to unarm his opponent with his net. This failed when the Gladius was retreated to the safety of the shield of the Secutor, with the gladiator himself taking a step back.

Now, Charon was open to attack. The Secutor rushed forward, beating the short distance that separated him and Charon quickly, swinging his Gladius. Charon jumped back, though not fast enough – a nasty scar appeared on his chest, which earned a loud gasp from the crowd. The first blood of this match was spilled.

However, Charon himself wasn’t happy with this at all, given the way the things were going for him. Since the Secutor was dangerously close, the Redguard had to make a quick retreat, though was sure not to turn his back to the enemy. The Secutor quickly gave chase, earning another gasp from the crowd when his blade made another scratch appear on Charon’s body.

But, to his misfortune, the gladiator did not retreat his weapon soon enough to avoid the net thrown by his opponent. In a quick motion, Charon pulled the net back, effectively unarming his opponent. What he didn’t foresee was the hit with the Scutum that followed – the Secutor got dangerously close to him again after being unarmed, and didn’t pass up the opportunity to get his foe to the ground with his shield.

Charon landed on his butt quite painfully, his chest sore from the strong blow it had to receive. Still, he didn’t stay down for long, quickly leaping back on his feet and thrusting the trident forward, again hoping to strike the chest of his opponent.

But once again, metal only met metal and not flesh. Charon had to retreat his trident once more, gaining nothing from the quick attack. Still, he managed to unarm his opponent, and that was something. Now, he needed to make use of that.

Fortunately for Charon, the Secutor was beginning to get weary. This match was lasting long enough to have effect on the heavier of the two, while the Redguard did not feel tired, due to his light armament. The Secutor would need to finish this quickly, else he could collapse from exhaustion and loose. Plus, he had no weapon, shifting the odds towards Charon’s side a slight bit.

Okay. So, I need to get past that large shield, and then he’s as good as dead. The Redguard contemplated, retreating backwards to avoid another shield-bash.

There were two options he could choose now – either stretch out the fight out so that his opponent is exhausted, or attempt to get past the shield and get the opposing gladiator down with his own strength. The first option was safer, though the second one appealed him and his Redguard honor more. He couldn’t let time take all the credit, so…

Slowly, Charon began his attempt at circling his opponent. The tips of the trident were all aimed towards the Secutor’s chest, who at the moment choose to stand in one place and protect himself with the large Scutum. However, this could not make Charon drop his plan. The Redguard would stop when either his opponent was down, or when he himself was dead.

When he was in the middle of forming his second circle around the Secutor, Charon suddenly leaped forward, aiming his trident at the upper chest of his opponent. The opposing gladiator once again moved his shield between his chest and the trident, though this left a slight bit of his right leg open.

This was enough for Charon. Once his trident touched the surface of the massive shield, he suddenly let it slide down, finally digging into the flesh of his opponent. The uncovered right leg was pierced, which resulted in the Secutor yelping in pain, and the crowds roaring in excitement. Was this injury enough to get the Secutor to surrender was yet to be seen…

Apparently, it was not.

Charon cursed loudly as the shield hit him again. The sudden impact sent him down on the ground again, and with him, the Redguard took the trident. The movement which got the weapon out of the Secutor’s leg was painful for the owner of the leg, resulting in him dropping on the knee of his right leg, and shifting his Scutum in a way it covered his whole front, though left him in a lower position.

The Redguard leaped up, furiously performing a quick attack that bounced off of the Scutum of the Secutor, though pushing it back a bit. Without a further thought, Charon, feeling the pain in both his chest and in his butt from two impacts, started raining down hits on the Secutor. Blow after blow landed on the shield, bending it in several spots. The man wielding the shield began breathing heavily, unable to keep his shield in the original spot…

Finally, when Charon raised his trident, which was beginning to get into quite blunt, for another strike, the Secutor lowered his shield, leaving himself defenseless. This action made Charon freeze before he could deliver the next blow – his opponent finally surrendered.

The tribunes were struck by a wave as all the spectators got up one after another, line after line, until all were up and cheering. Charon stood in the battlefield, caught off guard by the sudden noise. He didn’t even lower his trident, which was still held up in a way it looked like he would strike any moment.

Nice fight. Lol, that's all I can ever think of saying in these situations.

Umm, I also liked the details with the bones and the smell of rotting flesh in the air. Quite nice. And how you no longer mentioned the crowd once the fight got underway. It shows Charon's focus and made the cheering at the end more prominent.

Yes, this was certainly an effective fight scene. Nice to see that Charon is a logical fighter and seeks to find the weaknesses in his opponents (speed and stamina in this case). Good work.

Yes dear....it's Cyrodiil....but isn't that as near to Rome you can get? ...Nevermind, it's a good story, so just carry on!

Right. Sorry for the long delay of this chapter... I was a bit too busy to write a new one. Also, it is the shortest chapter yet, though I am planning to make the chapter after this longer than usually, for all the big things shall start kicking in.

Chapter III

Several weeks passed since Charon won his first fight in the Arena. Since then, he got a few more scars, and fought another two battles. He won both, though the second victory was earned by pure coincidence – his enemy impaled himself on his knife when he jumped on him. Still, it was counted for a victory all the same, and as thus, Charon became a favored betting subject.

Of course, all this did not matter to him. Most of the time when he was not fighting he spent planning an escape from this cell, from the Imperial City, from Cyrodiil. None of the plans he made up seemed worthy to try, and he could not risk – one failed attempt and he’s as good as dead.

Thus, he was still stuck in his cell, with no hopes of escaping. It changed soon.

Two times a year, also whenever a prisoner in the cells would be of so poor health that it could be seen that he will die soon, a monk of the Nine Divines visited the prisoners and listened to their confessions. Very few in the cells were followers of the Nine, and fewer yet were still willing to confess sins in such a place, but several of the prisoners still confessed.

Charon arrived to the Arena several weeks before the second visit of the monk. He had no clue of such an event, less so when it happened, so he could not include this monk’s visit in his plans for escape. As thus, it came to the Redguard as a surprise when a brown-robed bald Imperial appeared in front of his cell and disturbed his thoughts.

It took a stone in the head from the Blademaster for him to realize what the Imperial was asking of him.

“Answer, scum, the man has given you a question!” After this yell came the familiar ‘thud’ and a pain in the head. While the priest began arguing with the Blademaster about how he treated his gladiators, Charon thought up a plan. It was flawed, and would most likely fail, but execution would’ve been better than any of this.

“Yes, I want to confess my sins.”

The monk nodded, shot an angry look at the Blademaster, and unlocked the doors to Charon’s cell. The Redguard made note of the shortsword hanging at the man’s side, before giving one last doubt whenever the superstitions of the Imperials affect them stronger than their cruelty. His whole existence depended on that.

“So, child, what are your sins to the Gods?” The monk approached him with a nod of his head. Charon smiled slightly.

“My only sin is that I allowed myself to be captured by you scum.” Before the monk could react, Charon’s hand was already holding his shortsword, and pulling the Imperial’s frozen body to a position where the Redguard could keep his new weapon on the monk’s throat at all times.

The Blademaster roared in anger, kicking the unlocked doors open and unsheathing his sword. “I’LL KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!” He exclaimed, preparing to swing his weapon, though holding this action back after realizing that he would strike not Charon but the monk, who was now sweating like a pig.

“I’d think it over if I were you. Now, put the sword down or the fat monk gets it!” Charon commanded, pressing his shortsword against the throat of his hostage. The angered Blademaster, knowing that the authorities wouldn’t thank him for the murder of a priest, had nothing else to do but to put his weapon down.

“That’s better.” Charon smiled slightly, maneuvering his way out of this cell. It was somewhat difficult – he had to keep an eye on the Blademaster, and keep his shortsword on the monk’s throat.

Still, he made it out. Since the key was still in the lock, he used the occasion to avenge the Blademaster – he locked him up in Charon’s own cell. No doubt, this left the Imperial yelling and growling in rage at the Redguard, occasionally spitting curses and promises out for him.

Almost dizzy from his success, Charon took the key bundle out of the lock, then directed himself and the monk towards the nearest cell. Ignoring the monk’s babbling about how ‘the Nine will avenge him for his sins’ (apparently the monk did not know that Charon did not follow the teachings of the Nine Divines – he was a follower of the Yokudan pantheon), he attempted several keys on the lock before finally getting the right one.

The iron bars creaked slightly as they opened, and from the cell came out a beaten-up Altmer. Charon did not stop to ask the prisoner anything – instead, he moved on to unlock the cell next to the Altmer’s. He was in a hurry, for he knew that eventually, someone would come down to check what was happening. Still, the monk hindered his process.

Unfortunately, when he was attempting to unlock the seventh cell, all of the escapees heard footsteps approaching. The footsteps were heavy, and of at least two men, so it left little doubt what it was – Imperial Watchmen, going down to check out where has the monk disappeared.

Tasking the Altmer he first freed with unlocking the doors and handing the priest to a Dunmer (he guessed that the Dunmer wouldn’t let the monk have it easy, for many Dunmer, even living in Cyrodiil and other provinces, were still followers of the Temple’s teaching), Charon himself moved forward to meet the guards, gesturing others to run to the armory, which was on the opposite side of the corridor than the entrance.

He had little hope that he would hold the two Watchmen for long with his shortsword, though he now knew that backup would come at some point – Gladiators, equipped with their weapons of favor. Charon could only hope that the Gladiators he freed would turn out to be one of the best ones, for then, dealing with the Vigiles, who made up the bulk of city’s watch, would prove to be quite easy.

That was an interesting form of jailbreak. Though honestly, I would chain the gladiator to the wall first before sending in the priest. Ah well, the guy obviously got careless so it's all his fault.

Jailbreak! I look forward to seeing if it actually proves to be successful.

Thanks for all the comments. Allow me to present you the 4th chapter.

Chapter IV

Charon heard the bars clang behind him, releasing another prisoner with some Altmer help. He smiled slightly, then assumed a battle stance, seeing as the footsteps approached. The Redguard alone was enough to block the entire passage – he could efficiently hold it until the others returned.

Soon enough, Charon was facing two Vigiles. As he suspected, the men didn’t look like good soldiers – they only wore helmets, red woolen tunics and short skirts of the same color, and were armed with the large Scutum shield, a spear and a shortsword. However, even such weaponry was superior to the iron shortsword and the loincloth, held in place by a wide belt, the equipment of Charon.

It was natural for the Vigiles to laugh when facing such an enemy, for you didn’t have to be a genius to understand that the Redguard was an enemy. To the laughter, Charon only replied with a slight smile that bore a shade of sarcasm.

“Enough jokes, slave. Step aside until we haven’t dealt with you.” One of the Vigiles commanded while the other nodded in agreement to the words of the first one. Now, it was Charon’s turn to laugh.

The laughter made it obvious – the Redguard wasn’t going to stand back and let the watchmen pass. Thus, the two Vigiles lifted their shields up, aiming the spear tips towards the opposing Redguard. Charon took a step back, knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good to be impaled.

Seeing this, the two Vigiles advanced, but Charon took no more steps back. Seeing this, the watchman that told Charon to stand back spat, before thrusting his spear towards the Redguard.

Wrong move. Charon had enough previous experiences with spears and fighting, so he just dodged the incoming attack, catching the spear near the tip. Taken by surprise, the watchman took a step forward, which Charon used to full extent, pulling the weapon and sending the watchman on the ground, letting go of his spear in the process. Having gained another weapon, Charon used it immediately with his shortsword to stop the attack of the second watchman.

Using the free moment, Charon grasped the spear properly, aiming it at the watchman who remained on his feet. The man, unnerved by the disarming of his ally, decided to end this quicker and charged towards the Redguard, who jumped back, avoiding the hit, then thrust his own spear at the Imperial.

Due to the lack of armor, the watchman fell down with a wound in his stomach – he did not move his shield fast enough to block the incoming attack. It was obvious that, while the wound did not kill him right away, he would die sooner than anyone could help him.

The second watchman got up at the meantime, and unsheathed his shortsword.

Charon took offense, starting it by thrusting his spear towards the Imperial’s head. As he expected, the Scutum blocked this obvious hit, though another soon came at the now-unguarded foot of the watchman. This one was too blocked, with the shortsword this time.

The watchman attempted to attack Charon with his shortsword, though the weapon was met with Charon’s short blade. The Redguard attempted to thrust his spear into the open stomach of the Imperial, though the hit was met with the Scutum. Unfortunately, after the shortsword was retreated, this left the watchman’s head completely vulnerable, so the Imperial was down in moments, Charon’s shortsword in his eye.

After all, it appeared that the Vigiles were less of a trouble than Charon expected.

Having dealt with the two opponents, Charon turned around. The Altmer has done opening the cells by now, and the monk was firmly held by the Dunmer. From the other end of the hall, Charon spotted a Nord, two Imperials and an Orc returning with the weapons.

As fast as possible, the Gladiators equipped themselves in the fashion they fought in the arena. Besides himself, Charon could see only one another Retiarius, yet he saw a total of three Secutores, two Hoplomachi, four Murmillones, two Dimachaeri and one Thracian. Thus, there was a total of fourteen of the escaped Gladiators.

Now that they were armed, all that remained for them was to escape the Imperial City in some way. There were no sewer hatches near the prison cells, but one Imperial claimed that the pit in the middle of the arena is connected with them. Thus, the Gladiators moved up the stairs, only to meet the iron bars that halted their process.

“Let me help.”

Charon looked around to see whoever said this. What he saw was the Altmer he first freed, the only Altmer in the whole escape party. He was equipped as a Thracian, armed with a falx. The falx, while a powerful weapon, could not hope to beat the iron bars, so Charon looked at the Elf with interest.

What he did was nothing special – the Altmer put a fire spell into use, using it to soften the iron. The spell must’ve been quite powerful, since the Altmer soon presented them with his piece of work – a hole large enough for a man to fit through. The same was done to the second bars.

To their luck, the hole in the middle of the Arena was open, though the sight that greeted them made them stop for a moment – a body of the last man defeated in the arena. When they were fighting each other for their lives, the Gladiators had no time to mourn the one that could’ve fell, but now, their minds were clear enough for them to become horrified.

This did not halt the progress of the Gladiators for long, for they couldn’t waste any time. Charon climbed down into the pit using the wooden ladders positioned against the wall, then laughed in relief – the Imperial was correct. Now, the only thing they could do is pray that the sewers shall lead them out of the city. IF they were heading into the sewers.

The tunnel they went down was filled with horrible stench – no doubt, the numerous rotting corpses of past Gladiators were to be blamed. It appeared that they were tossed into this tunnel without receiving a proper burial. It wasn’t unexpected to Charon that the fallen warriors did not receive a proper burial, but… he certainly hadn’t expected them to be tossed into a tunnel and left to rot. I his mind, he thanked HoonDing that he did not fall in the arena.

Soon enough, the walls of the tunnel became more and more slimy, and the stench of rotting corpses was replaced by the stench of rotting food and other things - trash from the whole Imperial City. Charon only barely stopped himself from throwing up, though he carried on, leading the Gladiators to freedom, as he hoped.

The escapees weren’t confronted with anything more than a couple of rats and a sole goblin. While the two animals were smart enough to run away from the party of men, the goblin charged on, and soon fell down dead with three holes in its stomach – work of Charon. Apart from that, their journey was uneventful.

Finally, Charon spotted daylight coming from behind a turn. He heard gasps of hope behind him, though ignored them and rushed forward to see what was responsible for the light. Upon finding out, he only barely held back a cry of joy – bars were in front of him, and behind them… was the world, the world of free men. The Gladiators were only a few steps away from freedom.

With a little help from the Altmer, the bars fell out, and Charon rushed out.

The experience was overwhelming. The sound of water flowing and birds chirping, the sight of the bright, yellow sun of free men, the feeling of wind kissing the sweat on his back… Charon finally let go, and collapsed on the sand, filled with the purest joy a man can feel. He was feeling dizzy… Only by sheer power of his will did he manage to keep himself conscious. It took the help of a Dunmer – the same one who held the priest – to get back up.

However, when Charon got up, he realized that they were missing one face.

“Where’s the monk?” He turned to the Dunmer to which he handed the hostage that so foolishly offered himself to the Redguard, which led to their escape.

“I killed him.”

“WHAT?!”

All out of sudden, the great joy died down as he realized what the Dunmer just said. Charon hated Imperials and their false gods, yes, but he did not intend to descend to their level and kill the hostage. He would’ve figured out what to do with the priest later, but certainly not kill him…

“Why did you do that? WHEN did you do that?” The Redguard questioned, feeling as if someone was tearing his stomach up from the inside, a feeling that obviously made him sick.

“When you all left. The pig continued to babble about his false gods… I feared that he would scream for help, so I silenced him by the name of ALMISIVI for eternity. It sickened me to get my weapon dirty with the blood of one of them pigs, but on some occasions…” The Dunmer explained, gesturing towards the knife strapped to his waist. (He was armed as a Retiarius)

Charon gave no reply, but the moment before he turned away, one could’ve seen that his brow was clouded – things were beginning to get out of hands, and they weren’t even truly safe yet. Several trees blocked them from the walls, though they couldn’t stay there forever… They had to move on, immediately.

Realizing that he could do nothing to bring the monk back, nor anything to make the Dunmer realize his mistake – for Dark Elves were known to be rather stubborn when it came down to religious matters – Charon gestured the Gladiators to move out.

A minute later, one of the Imperials on the walls of the Imperial City gestured for his friend to look – he noticed a group of men heading towards the water. However, until the other Imperial, who had the sharper sight of the two, realized who these men were and rose an alarm, the Gladiators were already out of arrow-shot range. A party of horsemen was prepared to chase them, but by the time the party was assembled, the sun was already heading down west and the escapees gone. There was a hundred ways where they could’ve headed, though for now, the Empires troops believed that the group was heading roughly north-west.

By the next morning, posters with the faces of the escaped Gladiators were all around in the cities of Cyrodiil, creating a new source of talk in the local inns. The County of Cheydinhal, the place where the Gladiators were supposedly headed, was preparing to meet the escapees.

Little did the authorities of Cyrodiil know that the Gladiators weren’t heading for the County of Cheydinhal at all. Instead, the sought-after escapees were nearby the Niben Bay, keeping to the opposite side of the body of water than the city of Bravil. Charon’s (who became the self-proclaimed leader of the gladiators; none dared to challenged him for the title yet given what he did for the escapees) plan was to reach the Topal Bay, then either to negotiate his way on a pirate ship or to somehow capture one that belonged to the Empire. Then, all of Tamriel was open to them – they could quickly reach Elsweyr and Black Marsh, or take more time for themselves and head over to Morrowind or Valenwood, or take a lot of time and set sail for Summerset Isles, though that route was unlikely.

As much as he wanted, Charon could not even allow himself thoughts of reaching Hammerfell…

You're still going good. The rotting corpses in the tunnel was a nice, albeit cruel, detail.

Hmm, but why refuse the idea of going to Hammerfell?

It would be too risky to head through land, I supposed, and they didn't have the money (in the case they got on a pirate ship) or the experience (in the case they captured their own ship) to embark on such a long journey.

(Plus, I think it sounded dramatically as the last line of a chapter. )

As a side note, I'm still trying to figure out whenever to carry on with the 'Gladiators-escape' plot (which, I think, is going along quite nicely) or to take it into something which I am awfully tempted to do.

Well, it took me some time, but I finally decided with what plot am I going. And then I only had to overcome my renewed addiction with Rome: Total War (Or Roma Surrectum, to be more correct. Go Syracuse!) to write... <.<

However, to make up for it, this chapter gives youall two new names, a time setting, and an explanation why is the Empire more Rome-ish. Also a not-that-subtle hint towards where the plot will take Charon and Co.

Chapter V

Slowly, the small group of Gladiators made its way along the eastern shore of Niben Bay. The skies were completely clear, and the sun was blazing down on the backs of the men that recently became free, yet they ignored it, and didn’t stop to take a refreshing swim in the water, knowing that they had no time to loose. For Charon realized, as long as the Imperials thought they were heading towards Cheydinhal, they were rather safe. However, if they figured out where the escapees were, the fate of the Gladiators would be grim.

Thus, without a pause, the ex-Gladiators walked all the way from the Imperial City towards the Niben Bay. Charon was rather glad that their progress was lather big, yet he also knew they would have to stop and camp during midday, when the heat was the greatest. There was no point in exhausting themselves, and making little progress, as they wouldn’t have gotten far at that time of day, since the heat seemed to be sucking their energy. Even Charon was feeling exhausted, for he got accustomed to the rather cold air in the Gladiator cells.

Currently, the Redguard was a bit ahead of the others, constantly looking back to see how the Gladiators were doing. During one such look-back, he noticed that one of the figures sped up. Obviously this person was trying to catch up with him, so Charon slowed down a bit, making the task easier for whoever this was.

When the person caught up, Charon turned his head lazily – he was feeling rather exhausted after the night’s travel, as were all others – to see whoever this was. It appeared, from the golden skin color, that this man was the Altmer that helped them get out by making a hole in the bars through the use of spells.

The Altmer appeared to be quite young, looking not older than 25 or so, by what Charon saw when the Mer was without his helmet. However, Charon was confident that the Elf was older than himself or most of the others in the group for that matter, with the exception of the Dunmer maybe. The pale color of the Mer’s skin suggested that spending time in the sun wasn’t a favored activity during better times. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a Gladiator, and thus bore an amount of muscle, the Altmer would’ve looked much like a stereotypical mage – rather tall, above six feet tall, and quite slim. The same muscles, however, were to be held responsible for the Altmer’s odd appearance.

When the Mer was in the same line as Charon, he began speaking from beneath his helmet:

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced… I’m Gilian.” The Altmer extended his free arm towards Charon. However, the Redguard chose to ignore the hand, and replied in a generally uninterested voice:

“Charon.”

As Gilian’s expression was hidden by the helmet, it was hard to tell how he reacted to Charon’s response, yet it could be assumed that he was rather offended. However, Charon didn’t really care to say the least. He never liked Mer, especially not Altmer. However, for the sake of not looking racist, he couldn’t shoo Gilian off, so he decided to patiently listen to whatever the Elf had to say.

It didn’t take long for Gilian to break the silence and begin speaking:

“I wanted to speak regarding our further plan. You only said we were heading towards Topal Bay, nothing more. But if we are to survive, I believe it is time we all know why we are heading there. So… Mind to share?”

Charon shrugged slowly.

“We’re heading for the Topal Bay. That you already know. Fro there, we’ll either negotiate ourselves on a pirate ship, or hija-“ He stopped abruptly upon hearing something. A strange, somewhat humming noise could be heard, vibrating the air – and Charon’s stomach. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience to say the least, and he could see that the Elf wasn’t too happy either, having moved his hand over his stomach.

Upon looking back, Charon saw that other Gladiators have also already heard the odd noise. In fact, the same Dunmer, armed as a Retiarius, was approaching them.

The Dunmer seemed to be older than the Altmer, looking to be around 30 years old. His body had quite a few scars, and some of them looked like they came from times before the Arena. The agile build of his body suggested that the Mer was an able fighter, and was so even before being made a Gladiator. He wasn’t very tall, shorter than Charon, actually – somewhere near five and a half feet tall.

“What the hell is that noise?!” The Dunmer exclaimed upon reaching Charon and Gilian. The Altmer shrugged.

“It’s full of Daedric Magic. So it’s obviously nothing too good. Nothing that’s full of Daedric Magic is ever good.” He proclaimed, then gestured towards the lake: “It’s coming from somewhere there.”

Charon eyed him suspiciously, then looked at the lake. He saw the city of Bravil in the distance, as well as… an island. The island stood somewhere near the middle of the lake, and Charon couldn’t help but feel that it did not belong to Niben Bay. He pointed at the piece of land with his finger.

“Am I the only one getting a feeling that that thing over there doesn’t look like it has to be here?”

Gilian frowned, taking a few steps towards the lake. In an attempt to see better, he took off his helmet, revealing oddly calm blue eyes, a snub nose, rather thin lips, and just a tired face of a young Elf in general. He shook back his long grey hair, then lifted his free hand up to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun and staring at the island.

The Dunmer also approached the lake, though didn’t bother to shield his small crimson-red eyes from the sun. Charon imagined that he was used to such conditions, and thus wasn’t bothered much by the sun, much like himself.

“Well, I sure as hell can’t know where it’s coming from… This whole area is just too full of it all. Never felt so much of Daedric Magic before…” Gilian began, yet stopped abruptly. Charon turned to him, and saw that the Altmer’s eyes widened.

“Except for the times I approached an Oblivion Gate…”

Charon’s eyes widened as well. It couldn’t be. Oblivion Gates were closed a year ago… They were what made the Elder Council perform the Great Reforms shortly after, which changed the face of Empire completely, going as far as making it a Republic…

“How the hell is that possible?!” He heard the Dunmer exclaim, and felt that he wanted to hear the answer to the same question. It wasn’t possible… The last Emperor supposedly made it impossible for Daedra to invade through Oblivion Gates. The Elder Council made sure everyone knew that, so as to mark how heroic the Emperors were.

“I sure as hell don’t know. I’m not so sure about what is this, really, as it could be a very powerful Cultist, yet I know a good way to find out.” Gilian replied. The Dunmer shook his head.

***

Half an hour later, Charon, Gilian and the Dunmer, who introduced himself as Raynari Vandareth Indoril, were standing on a purple platform. Gilian was in front of the row, muttering something, so as to keep the platform in existence. Charon looked over his shoulder, to see the last of the Gladiators walk ahead, with some hesitation, then disappear. This was the job of a simple Illusion spell from the Altmer. Raynari, on the other hand, was looking ahead, frowning. He had agreed to go just in sake for his own honor, since he didn’t want to look a coward. Now, however, it was obvious he was regretting this decision.

Daedric magic... Niben Bay... madness?

Nice work.

I've got a hunch of where you're going with this. Heh, can't wait.

Definitely looking forward to the next update. Bit of a cliff hanger with this one.

I think I know where this one is going as well. Can't wait to see if I'm right.

Also: Rome: Total War is an addiction totally worth having. Although if I have to spend another turn fighting over Anatolia with the Egyptians I may go crazy and start the civil war early, just so I can be at war on literally every front.

Well, it appears that I've taken the right plot choice. Well, I'll get to writting the next chapter as soon as possible. Today's my easy day, so I might be able to begin then. Oh, and...


Even more so with Roma Surrectum mod. Playing as Syracuse gives me the satisfactory experience of a City-State that I wanted so much. It just feels like you have to struggle for survival and take those 5 or so cities in Sicily before Romans come. With a proper quick start (namely rushing two armies into Free Peoples' cities and threatening Carthage into handing over its cities... Power of diplomacy, and a spear in the distance!) the immediate threats I removed succesfully... Yet I'm still worried about Rome and full-scale Carthage.

Ahhh, Imperials....Ancient Rome! They are connected, right? Anyway, go on this is a really good read! Me likey...

Chapter VI

As the trio approached the island more and more, Charon felt an odd scent in the air. Perhaps it was Daedric Magic becoming so thick that even he was able to smell it. Or perhaps it was the odd flowers he had noticed. Regardless, though, the smell was rather thick, and unpleasant. Even more so, now that they approached the island, the humming got louder and louder, and Charon was feeling like his inside was vibrating. However, he just clenched his teeth and attempted to ignore it.

Taking a glance behind, he noticed that Raynari wasn’t feeling the best, too. The Dunmer had also obviously clenched his teeth tightly, and couldn’t hide the frown on his face as the smell got stronger and stronger with their approach towards the mysterious island.

When he looked in front of him again, he noticed that Gilian had turned to face him. A small purple bubble surrounded his nose, and Charon guessed this was a Shield spell, to aid the Mer against the thick smell that was floating in the air around the island. However, even the mage could do nothing against the odd humming noise, and it was obvious that it had an effect on him, as a slight frown was present on his face.

“We’re here, gentlemen. Any volunteers to go up and check what’s up there?” The Altmer gestured towards the island. If they were to find out something, they would have to scale a small peak.

Seeing as the Dunmer gave no response, Charon sighed and stepped forward. “I’ll go. The only thing I need is a lift to the top.”

Gilian smiled slightly, then muttered something, lifting his free hand up to Charon’s chest level. Unexpectedly, a purple ball dashed towards Charon, and the next thing he knew, the Redguard was in the air, slowly floating towards the island under the influence of a Telekinesis spell.

Curse those mages and their spells… He muttered under his breath, waiting for himself to land. Fortunately for him, the trip lasted shortly, and soon enough, he was back on firm ground.

The view that was revealed to him made him gasp.

Charon stood at the side of an enormous statue. The statue was that of a head, yet what unsettled him was the fact that the statue looked… mad. It had three faces, each depicting different emotions, yet connecting at the eyes. The mouth of the middle statue was open, with its lower jaw opening up into stairs that led inside the statue. From there, all the humming seemed to come, and Charon could spot shades of blue and purple dancing on the stone.

Near the mouth of the statue stood what appeared to be a Legionnaire, armored with the traditional Legion armor – Lorica Segmentata, Scutum shield and the Legion helmet. Beneath that, Charon could spot a tunic, and a scarf, both red. The Imperial wore sandals, the traditional footwear of the Legion. Of weapons, the Legionnaire carried the Gladius shortsword, also several javelins – Pilas.

From what Charon could see from his position, the man wasn’t very tall – slightly shorter than six feet. He had rather tan skin, which suggested that the Imperial spent a lot of time under the sun. However, Charon was in a position from which he couldn’t see the face of the man.

Behind the Legionnaire, the Redguard noticed a small camp. It consisted of a solo tent, inside which was a bedroll of poor quality. Nearby the tent was a fireplace, currently with no fire burning. On it stood a simple pot, which was probably where the Legionnaire boiled his food. Speaking of the food, it was most likely located in a sack that was positioned next to the tent.

The small camp suggested Charon that the man lived here, yet he only began thinking of that after he recovered from the extremely strong smell of the mushrooms beneath him. To avoid being seen, he had to quickly hide in them, which resulted in almost loosing consciousness. He couldn’t allow himself that, so he began crawling forward, trying to breath in a way the smell wouldn’t affect him so much. However, that wasn’t very successful, so Charon felt quite dizzy and ready to throw up at any moment.

While he was crawling through the mushrooms, trying to make as little noise as possible, a Dunmer was basically spat out of the statue’s mouth. The Elf rose from the ground, shivering, froth flowing out of his mouth. His eyes darted around like those of a madman, full of panic.

“This is all wrong… Everything is wrong…” The Dunmer muttered, burying his hands in his messy red hair. “I can’t do it… You won’t make me…” His voice got louder as he spoke. “I won’t go back! You can’t make me!” The obviously mad Mer’s shivering hand moved down to the handle of a rusty iron shortsword tied to his belt. “I- I’LL KILL YOU ALL! YOU ALL ARE GOING TO DIE!” With that yell, the Dunmer suddenly leaped up, unsheathing his weapon of poor quality.

The Legionnaire sighed, and Charon saw one of the javelins flying towards the Dunmer, who wasn’t even attempting to avoid it. The weapon pierced the Mer’s chest straight on, and soon, a pool of blood appeared on the stone stairs. This was when the Redguard was an opportunity to strike.

Leaping forward, he ran for the Legionnaire, who, unfortunately, noticed him already. Since the web and the trident in his hands left no clue about what feelings Charon had towards the Imperial, a Pilum was sent flying towards the ex-Gladiator.

However, Charon was a Retiarius for a reason. Jumping out of the javelin’s way, he dashed forward, and threw his net towards the Legionnaire. However, he also jumped back and avoided the attack, then dashed forward to impale Charon on his Gladius. The Legionnaire was quite a lot like a Secutor for Charon – they had the same weaknesses, though the Legionnaire had more strengths.

Knowing what he had to do, Charon sidestepped the blow, then thrust forward his trident. The Legionnaire blocked the blow, yet was forced to take a step back as they began pouring down on the Scutum one after another. As soon as the Imperial took a step back, though, Charon threw his net again, catching the shield in it. It took only a pull towards himself to make the Legionnaire loose one of his weapons, and a good deal of advantage.

However the Imperial wasn’t going to surrender and Charon had to jump back quickly to avoid another thrust. Then, he attempted to impale the man on his trident, yet that blow was sidestepped, and the next thing Charon knew, his main weapon was flying out of his hand as the Legionnaire pulled it.

As the trident landed on the ground, the Legionnaire again attempted to impale Charon on his Gladius, yet failed as Charon rolled left. Wasting no time, the Redguard threw himself at the Imperial, effectively bringing him to the ground.

A struggle on the ground ensued, yet here, Charon had the upper hand. Soon enough, the Gladius was lying on the ground some distance away, and his knife was covered in blood. The Legionnaire was on the ground, dead, with a slit throat.

“Bravo! Bravo!” An odd voice suddenly boomed. “What a fight! Quite amusing, really.” Charon looked around, trying to find the source of this voice. However, his only suspect currently was the statue. However, his search was cut short as the voice continued:

“You have something that I was looking for! Perhaps you’d like to come in? You can bring friends, really! The more, the merrier, no?” Charon looked at the statue, not entirely sure whenever to dismiss the thought of trying to go into the blue-ish light that was present in the mouth of the statue, or go in. However, his thought was cut short when the voice whispered, seemingly from right next to him:

“And if you’re not convinced yet, we have free cheese!”

Puzzled, Charon approached the peak at the bottom of which he knew stood Gilian and Raynari, supported by the purple platform created by the Altmer’s Water Walking spell.

“It’s all clear, you can come up. Nothing but an odd statue up here, really.” He gestured them, trying to ignore the smell of the mushrooms that surrounded him once again. The humming noise ceased after the voice stopped speaking, so it wasn’t an annoyance anymore.

After a few Telekinesis spells, both Mer were up on the island, yet Raynari was looking rather annoyed, and Charon didn’t blame it – he too was rather annoyed when Gilian just threw him up on the island with no warning.

Since the island wasn’t that large, the three split up to explore it, feeling no need to stay together for security. Raynari went down a path that led down, and Charon took a somewhat hidden path down to the water. Gilian stayed to explore the statue further, as it intrigued him greatly.

***

After some ten minutes, Charon, Raynari and Gilian again met up next to the statue. There wasn’t anything that interesting on the island, except for the odd vegetation, all of which had a thick and a rather unpleasant smell. Yet none of the flowers bested the mushrooms which Charon found upon stepping foot on the island for the first time.

“So, what now?” Charon finally broke the silence. Gilian shrugged.

“Now I head into the Gate. I want to find out where it goes, and if it is of any danger to Tamriel. There could be more to it than we could imagine. The statue just reeks of Sheogorath’s magic, so that gate could lead us beyond our sanity.” The Altmer gestured towards the statue.

Raynari smirked.

“So, you find it wise to head into a place that reeks of Sheogorath?”

“No, I find myself curious, and that is why I head in.” Gilian replied, then turned around on his heel, heading towards the mysterious gate.

Charon shrugged.

“Well, it invited me, so I might as well go in, just for the heck of finding out who spoke to me.” With that, he also turned around and followed the Altmer. Raynari shook his head, yet still followed; indeed, he also felt very curious about the nature of these ‘gates’. He didn’t trust Gilian a lot, after all, so he might’ve been wrong by saying that it reeked of Sheogorath.

Hah, I knew it! Sheo for the win!

And I laughed at how bored the Imperial seemed when he killed that Dunmer. It was as if he was practically saying: ,,Not again. This is just getting old."

Yeah, I'd think that days and days of telling adventurers not to go in, only to have them go in and get out crazy, then kill them could get boring. Not the best assignment you could get... I imagine what the poor Legionnaire msutve thought when he was told to go there.

"Oh, yeah, we have this Gate that converts normal people into crazy maniacs. Since there's no one watching it, we want you to do it. Oh, and, the Gate speaks from time to time. Just thought you'd like to know."
"I don't get paid enough to do such things..."