[
@DaGlobster !]
It was to be a non-lethal match, so there was that.
A non-lethal match, so no one had to die today. It would be a smaller crowd than the bloodsports, but there would still be a big turnout as usual--this was one of the most popular forms of entertainment in Essyrn, after all--and though Yasmin
technically no longer had a master, considering he was
dead, she had been tasked with the fun duty of keeping up appearances. You know, pretending Master Dearest was still actually alive by coming to these matches on schedule, like a good little slave.
Today, she'd be facing some guy called The Longknife. A
volunteer gladiator, apparently, sort that did it for the money and not because he had no choice. She'd heard his name floating around the Colosseum before, and had decided the moment she heard he was to be her opponent that she was going to
grind his face into the sand.
Maybe make him eat some while she was at it. Stick it up his nose. Make him
shit sand for weeks.
Volunteer her black ass. She felt sorry for her fellow slaves, who were stuck in a situation they had no say in. But the
volunteers, the ones who did it for shits and giggles and
profited...now those were the ones she genuinely had it out for. She didn't normally think herself a vengeful person, but she got some small satisfaction whenever those ones failed.
Yasmin was at the Colosseum, but she was a bit early. Way early. Some of Karime's (rest in
pieces!) servants had delivered her there the night before so she could prepare and practice and ready herself. And sleep in her crappy old cell in her crappy old bed. Now, with a bit under an hour until the match, she did her warm-up stretches and went through some drills, practicing a few maneuvers with her scimitar and hacking up a dummy.
Not that she'd be hacking up mister Longknife. These matches generally only went 'til first blood.
And damn if she wasn't out for
his. Maybe some part of her was itching for a fight.
The last few days had been stressful, though, and for all that she hated this business...at least it was something she knew.
She gave the dummy a vicious slash across its "belly" and straw "guts" poured out. "Oh, I'm so sorry Mister Longknife!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Did that hurt? Whoops! Must have slipped."
She slashed at it again, this time severing an arm. "Oops! Slipped again!"
Its other arm joined its twin. "Butterfingers! Gosh. It's almost like it just--"
There went its leg.
"--keeps--"
And its other leg.
"--happening!"
Its head went soaring. Yasmin inhaled deeply and swiped the back of her hand over her sweaty brow. "Not so
long anymore, are you, Long
wife? Stupid moneygrubber." She impaled it with a quick thrust through its middle.