open;

[gluteus]

Who| Maximus and YOU
What|  Maximus arrives in the Games, and anyone and everyone can come bother him though they might get beat up a little
Where|  All over the arena
When|  Mid-way
Warnings| Probably lots of violence and possible death, but not his. Not yet. Not yet.


He'd been told almost nothing. Equipped with gear completely foreign to him save the fur lining of his hood, Maximus said nothing as he was prepared and had little more explained to him. He wondered, vaguely, if he was dead. Had Commodus's assassins come for him in the night? Had the gods judged that he must pay his dues before he was worthy of joining his brothers in Elysium?

But as he rose into the blinding white snow, and the cold whipped around him fierce and fast, Maximus knew he was alive. A new game, perhaps, that Commodus had smuggled him to in order to watch him die. They had not even armed him - he was meant to be no more than fodder. The small metal piece they had pushed under this skin was a new and unique branding to match the scarred out tattoo on his shoulder. Forever owned, a piece of his mind echoed. He ignored it.

He would not die here. Not today. He would win this arena like those before it until he stood face to face with Commodus.

As he stepped off his pillar, he crouched down to the ground, fingers meaning to find dirt but instead finding snow. The snow would afford no better grip, but then he had no weapon to take a better grip on. He had seen snow before, of course - they had fought in the north for nearly his entire military career, and the harsh winters had killed more than a few friends. But not him.

He raised his eyes to the horizon - but there were no stands, no crowds, no audience. He knew, somehow, that they were watching. The mob was always watching.

Strength and Honour.

Comments

[the_marshal]

Draco was dead. Wyatt had finally seen the boy's picture up in the snowy night sky, and, truth be told, as much as they hadn't really gotten along, Wyatt kinda missed him.

He missed having someone to break up the hours with. The ever-white landscape, the freezing temperatures.... It'd felt easier somehow, with someone else.

Even someone like Draco.

But still, he carried on. Doin' as best as he could, hopin' quietly, in some deep down secret place, that this arena might be the one. Somehow. Someway.

Slipping out of his the icy-cave he'd claimed as his own, he glanced around warily... then put his head down against the wind and snow and started off toward the eastern horizon. There were birds there, he knew. And where there were birds, there was food.

[gluteus]

The snow seemed to go on forever - no tree or break in sight - and Maximus was having difficulty trying to determine where he was. Not in the alps, that was certain. And not Germania. Could they be further north, perhaps? But how had they got him here--

His reverie was broken as his keen eyes fell on another figure appearing out of the blowing snow, the keen cry of birds coming from that general direction. He had been told that he would need to survive out here, of course, though why a gladiatorial arena would last so long...

He considered his options. He was unarmed, but that could only be solved by finding a weapon - and he'd seen nothing he could use in his trek thus far. Either the other 'Tributes' were armed, and he could gain a weapon from one of them, or they were not, and he wouldn't need to.

He started heading for the stranger.

[the_marshal]

The birds started as soon as Wyatt was in sight, a warning call that rippled through the flock, but he wasn't deterred. He'd done this enough times now, it almost like an art.

He moved into the nesting field, his head down for protection, and the animals exploded into movement, all slender bodies and pointed wings. A whirlwind of screams - cold and high. The kind of sound that came to haunt you in your dreams.

They dove at him, clawing and biting, but he ignored them and bent to scoop up the small, darkly flecked eggs. Two went straight into his pockets, clinking against the knife tucked there, a third he cracked right there and then, sucking hungrily as the unhatched's parents circled around him.

[gluteus]

Moving cautiously but quickly, his approach apparently unnoticed by either the man or the birds that so viciously attacked him, closing the distance between them as he trudged through the snow. He did not even realise his hunger until he felt his stomach rumble and complain at the sight of Wyatt devouring the egg.

It did not look particularly appetizing, but Maximus had eaten worse on a campaign before.

He glanced up at the birds as he approached. He had little doubt that he could resist their fury easily enough, but perhaps if he made a bid for the eggs while his opponent had their attention...

[the_marshal]

One of the birds, young maybe, or just desperate, came to close, didn't turn in time and instead of grazing past, it smacked into the back of Wyatt's head with a thick thud. Bird and egg tumbled to the ground, the former stunned and fluttering softly, the latter smashing and splashing yellow-pink fluid across the snow.

Wyatt grunted, knocked forward by the blow, and turned, glaring across the field-

-and spotted the stranger.

Immediately he shifted, body stiffing. His fingers twitched, ready to dive into his pocket, but he didn't move.

Not yet.

[gluteus]

Maximus came to a halt as soon as Wyatt turned, but didn't flinch or back away. Instead he straightened, squaring his shoulders and raising his head. Even with his goggles on, his look was even, calm, and fearless. It was a look of recognition, and of defiance. Yes, I see you, it said, and you aren't stopping me.

Once registered, he began moving forward again, towards an unguarded nest, to the left of them both, his eyes never leaving Wyatt.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt stared back, eyes as pale and blue as the cold afternoon sky above them. But he didn't move. Forward or back.

He had no desire to fight - particularly a stranger who could be anyone, anything - but, he wouldn't turn-tail either.

They could be men about this.

I am sorry in advance for the bad assery about to happen

[gluteus]

Confident his opponent was not about to attack him and likely unarmed (as he could see no reason not to attack otherwise), Maximus strode to the nest, his eyes still on his opponent. The birds still swirling over head finally took notice of him and some of them broke away to lunge at him. He ignored them at first, their sweeping arcs ducking past him as he kneeled down to grasp an egg. Treasure safely taken, he paused, still as stone --

-- and then lunged out with an arm, connecting with the seabird with a thump. Unhurt, the bird fell ungracefully to the ground and began to screech at him, but Maximus merely opened the egg against a stone of the nest...

And ate it.

Re: I am sorry in advance for the bad assery about to happen

[the_marshal]

Wyatt arched a dark eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react.

If the stranger was trying to intimidate him, tryin' to get him to beg or squeal or otherwise make some sort of ruckus, he was going to have try harder.

Wyatt didn't yellow easy. Even more so now.

Watching a giant rampaging monster turtle tear through a field of tributes would do that to a man.

[gluteus]

He took two more eggs, slipped them into his pocket, and then stood - regretting completely his decision to smack the bird as it had not stopped screeching at him since. They had, however, ceased to dive bomb his head.

His immediate hunger quelled, he was still and silent for a moment as he decided what to do about his opponent. This was unlike any arena he had ever had to face, and if the man would not come to him, he saw no reason to start the killing now. Perhaps this was part of the ritual, here? Wait until they were all starved and willing to eat each other?

What other proof did he need to know he now lived among barbarians?

He drew in a breath, cocking his head slightly to the right as he watched Wyatt, the bemused curiousity obvious. But he still did not speak.

[the_marshal]

"There are some that enjoy it," Wyatt said, breaking the silence between them instead. Answering the unspoken question. "And they'll tear into each other like wolves. Myself, I see no reason to harm those I ain't got no quarrel with. Not if I don't have to."

He looked pointedly at the stranger, called across the shrieking din. "We gonna have a problem?"

[gluteus]

His eyebrow raised, and he shifted slightly, his weight settling onto his back foot. At-ease.

"A gladiator is rarely given a choice," He said, calmly, though more than loud enough to carry across the snow. "I was under the impression there was not one here, either."

[the_marshal]

If there was one good thing about all the time Wyatt had had to spend alone, it was that it had given him a great deal of time to think. Just him and the things Neeshka had said. And Elias.

The things Wyatt felt, the things he believed.

So when he replied, it was calmly, and without hesitation.

"There's always a choice. And there are always consequences. It's up to each man to decide for himself which ones he can live with."

[gluteus]

He raised his chin slightly. "We are all here to die," He said simply. It was what he had been told. "The only choice we have is how to meet that death."

It was a vague memory of a speech that had saved his life, once. And he wasn't about to give up that life now, not while Commodus still drew breath.

He paused, considering, and then said slowly: "But neither one of us must face that death today."

[polyturtle]

Shell it was freezing. Shell it was freezing. Shell it was--

--Oh.

Donatello was currently trying to trudge a lifeless bird back to his and Momoko's dwelling when he spotted the newcomer. At least, he saw the silhouette in the snowy conditions, though he couldn't make out exactly who it was. He quickly tensed, and quietly shifted a foot into a defensive position as the figure came closer, slinging the bird onto his back.

Just in case. It could be someone he was friendly with, or something worse.

[ordonaturalis]

The bow and arrows had proven to be more of a liability than strength for Morrigan. Her time in the wilds had hardly called for such base means of inflicting harm, and her first attempts at the item had resulted in a fine cut across her palm on the first day. The string of the bow and the arrow tips had proven their worth however, serving as both snare for bird and lure for fish when she was forced from the safety of the ice to procure food.

Without the familiar safety of the forest or the less familiar, yet still useful, protection of the Warden and 'friends,' Morrigan was at a disadvantage. Worse now, in this world of white, where her dark hair stood out in stark contrast to the world around her. Yet food must be found. Distasteful as she was of her current situation, her life was not so cheap a coin that she would part from it easily. Luck had held thus far, she had encountered no one. She could only rely on the same twisted form of fortune to look after her as she struggled with her tangled line once more, extracting a captured bird to add to her pitiful pile of subsistence.

[the_marshal]

Something about the way he said it, the flat, unwavering directness made Wyatt wonder if the man didn't know about being brought back. About how this was likely to be just one death in a string of many... but even as he was about to ask, as his eyes were narrowing and his mouth was opening, he reconsidered, remembering how Katurian had reacted.

This man didn't immediately strike him as the type for sudden fits - much to calm and poised for that - but say he was wrong? This was hardly the place he wanted to deal with it.

Instead he nodded, a small dip of his head. "Agreed." And, in a smooth, slow gesture, held out a hand.

[gluteus]

Maximus glanced at the hand and back at Wyatt before stepping towards him, each footstep firm and sure. Once in range, he reached out, clasping the proffered arm just above the wrist as was custom.

"Strength and Honour."

[gluteus]

Maximus continued his trudge through the snow. He'd seen no whiff or whisper of shelter, but he knew he would have to find some too. He suddenly stopped, however, as his eyes fell on the figure in the distance. He drew a breath, about to step closer - when his eyes finally made out the form.

He had no idea what it was.

Man shaped (mostly) but no nose, and green skin and... an enormous protrusion upon its back...

A monster. He'd heard stories, of course, every story of heroes in ancient days included monsters - but Maximus had seen much of the dark places of the world and had never seen one. He had not even considered them real. And yet --

His hand immediately went to his hip, where the shadow of a memory of a sword once lay, and he cursed quietly under his breath when he remembered he was completely unarmed.

[gluteus]

The cold was beginning to seep through him, but still Maximus trudged on - too stubborn and determined to stop, even as he pushed his body past what he should. The day had been long, and frustrating. The game made less sense to him now than when he began - the few other tributes he had met unwilling to fight.

She was the first woman he had seen since he had arrived. He was not overly surprised by her - he had, in fact, both fought and killed women gladiators, though they were rare. Somehow her presence here made more sense to him than a lack of women otherwise might. This game had proven sadistic already.

He came to a stop, watching her from a safe distance, deliberating, his eyes falling on the bird. The eggs he had retrieved earlier had not been enough, and he would need all his energy just to stay warm...

[polyturtle]

"Uh...hello?"

On his end, Don could see it was a guy. Human-looking, but not entirely familiar. He kept on his guard, just in case. If they were new, they could be hostile. He didn't have weaponry, but it was as Master Splinter or that man who gave him the creeps back in the Training Center would say: the body is the first, last and best weapon a true warrior will need in times of trouble.

"Who's there?"

At least this monster seems relatively polite.

[gluteus]

It had to be a test, or a trick of some kind, even as the monster spoke. But had not the Sphinx? Maximus straightened. Answering riddles was preferably to taking down a monster unarmed.

"They call me the Spaniard," he called out across the snow, suddenly unwilling to give his true name, even if Commodus had indeed sent him here.

Names had power, after all.

[polyturtle]

"Oh." Don blinked. "So, uh...Mr. Spaniard?"

What else was he going to call this guy, after all. Also, worst monster ever.

"I'm guessing you're new to the Arena, aren't you?"

[the_marshal]

Expecting to have his hand shook, Wyatt started a bit when the man grabbed his arm - stiffing and leaning back, as if expecting to be pulled forward, to see a knife suddenly appear....

But when he simply held, and stared, Wyatt relaxed. Settled enough to parrot the motion, his fingers curling slowly around the other's forearm.

"Back'atcha," he murmured, wondering silently where it was this stranger was from that he didn't know what a handshake was.

[ordonaturalis]

Even without magic, there was no mistaking the feeling of being watched. An unaware creature, even a mage shifted into the form of it, was sure to be very shortly a dead one. Morrigan dropped the carcass from her hand and both stood and turned to face the sensed threat in one smooth, unbroken motion, shoulders and back straight and head held high. That is was another human was not unexpected, but, even with the ridiculous clothing obscuring so much of him, she was certain she did not recognize him from the opening match around the cornucopia.

Interesting.

"Well, what have we here? A vulture, perhaps, come to swoop upon still living prey? A lost soul seeking harbor in the storm? Do not simply stand and leave me in wonder. Speak, man. Or, if 'tis blood you're set upon, make such intention clear."