The crowd's cheering was an almost deafening roar, but Ariadne had trained herself to drown it out, at least enough to focus on the task at hand. And there, in the Coliseum, the task at hand was her own survival, at any cost. She was dressed in minimal armor, favoring mobility over coverage, and she wasn't naive enough to think that her attire hadn't also designed for added sex appeal, as many of the Coliseum's most influential backers were also some of the most powerful men in the city-state of Atoria.
So she was forced to show off a little more skin... that was, by far, the least of her concerns at the moment. The most pressing of which was the hulking brute of a man who was lumbering towards her, hefting a hammer whose large iron head was coated in rust and almost the size of Ariadne's whole torso. He somehow lifted the monstrous hunk of metal over his head and brought it crashing down... right where the much smaller woman had been just a moment before she nimbly rolled out of the way.They cannot be serious,
the gladiatrix thought to herself, a slight smirk playing on her delicate features. This guy was supposed to have been her greatest challenge, but already she could visualize how she was going to defeat him, so slow and predictable were his movements. She hadn't always been so confident, she hadn't even always been a slave...
She had once been Princess Rosa, but that was a lifetime ago. Now she was Ariadne, one of Atoria's fiercest gladiators and a veritable license to print bank notes for her owner, Perius. Just how had she gone from a dainty, spoiled princess to the whirling terror who could look such a brute in the eye and grin, knowing that his demise was just moments away? And how might she regain her freedom, if she indeed lives long enough to do so? Past and future are both tales that might be worth telling... would you care to join me in this venture?