Down an arm
"It will be instant. A disrespect really.....You won't go down in history as a hero if you do so."
"But don't worry, when they abandon you I will cheer your name that last time for you."
How fast the crowd went silent was more deafening than any of the cries they had made for their hero. The dead silence and shocked awe spread like wildfire as each patron of the arena stifled a sound then cried out stampeding in fear for the large open gates.
In the sands and winding maze of the coliseum the sand had dyed red and steamed against the cold while the roaring cries of terror spilled from the throats of fleeing patrons. Trampled bodies and broken corpses of those that fell filled the stands and stone risers casting a sullen backdrop to the brutality and gruesome visage of carnage in the lower ranks.
Standing at the center of the mess was the glint of silver, dark leather lined with faded scarlet trim and lowered sword of gruesome dark iron flowing in sharp valleys and mountain peaks of edged metal.
The dragonslayer looked dejected as he stared down at the pulped mess of an appendage gripped in his palms. The thick gruesome chunks of flesh and bone strewed about his feet in the puddle of thick fresh blood rippled each moment flayed muscle dripped a rich drop into the center of the puddle.
The remains of the arm were dropped splashing his already moist form with a small rough wave of crimson paste run thick with blood and stringy meat.
"...." He lifted his eyes in that moment looking to the thickly corpse strewn risers and then down to the puddle again, "I told you they would abandon you...." His lips spread in a grin as he began to step through the people's savior to his next prey.
Every few steps he could be heard repeating the name of the hero just as he had promised.
"Spartacus...."
The darkened form began to dwindle in the open gate.
"Spartacus..."
"It will be instant. A disrespect really.....You won't go down in history as a hero if you do so."
"But don't worry, when they abandon you I will cheer your name that last time for you."
How fast the crowd went silent was more deafening than any of the cries they had made for their hero. The dead silence and shocked awe spread like wildfire as each patron of the arena stifled a sound then cried out stampeding in fear for the large open gates.
In the sands and winding maze of the coliseum the sand had dyed red and steamed against the cold while the roaring cries of terror spilled from the throats of fleeing patrons. Trampled bodies and broken corpses of those that fell filled the stands and stone risers casting a sullen backdrop to the brutality and gruesome visage of carnage in the lower ranks.
Standing at the center of the mess was the glint of silver, dark leather lined with faded scarlet trim and lowered sword of gruesome dark iron flowing in sharp valleys and mountain peaks of edged metal.
The dragonslayer looked dejected as he stared down at the pulped mess of an appendage gripped in his palms. The thick gruesome chunks of flesh and bone strewed about his feet in the puddle of thick fresh blood rippled each moment flayed muscle dripped a rich drop into the center of the puddle.
The remains of the arm were dropped splashing his already moist form with a small rough wave of crimson paste run thick with blood and stringy meat.
"...." He lifted his eyes in that moment looking to the thickly corpse strewn risers and then down to the puddle again, "I told you they would abandon you...." His lips spread in a grin as he began to step through the people's savior to his next prey.
Every few steps he could be heard repeating the name of the hero just as he had promised.
"Spartacus...."
The darkened form began to dwindle in the open gate.
"Spartacus..."