Behind the Scenes at the Arena

A continuation from A Gladiator Fight! Between my own npcs and characters.

The arena.

Aclidia's one stop shop for all their bloodsport entertainment needs, with lively plays on Sunday afternoons. The arena was packed today with spectators ready to watch their favorite combatants murder the life out of each other. Under the stone seats of the arena countless beasts rushed too and fro making sure the arena ran smoothly and efficiently.

And below that were the fighters quarters where a calmer scene was unfolding. There were windows along the wall that let the occasional roar of the crowd spill out into the room.

"Welp, there goes Mathias the Mauler." Says the rat by the window.

"Seriously?" Pello continues to lift the weight in paw, muscles straining as he does. The red scaled monitor lizard was by far the largest beast in the room but with out his armor he was far from the most intimidating. "Told him to keep his shield arm up. But does anyone ever listen to me, noooo."

"Complain all you like, you still owe me ten coppers."

Setting down the weight with a loud clatter the lizard rolls his eyes, "Jackwagon didn't even have the decency to last two more games." He reaches for the leather jerkin spread out across the bench next to him.

"Two more games? Isn't that being a bit too kind?" Both rat and lizard turn their attention down the room. The Hyena is another beast that looks less while dressed in only cloth slacks. Even more so by the bandages wrapped around his torso.  The fox is carefully trimming his fur down with a razor blade. Keeping his fur short save for the long mane running down his back the beast vaguely resembles his name sake. "The mauler wasn't exactly the brightest tool in the shed."

The rat and lizard exchange glances. "Ho oh! Look who is getting too big for his britches." The rat says with a smile, "Give the fox a few wins and suddenly he thinks he is an expert on this stuff."

"Never claimed to be an expert. Just commenting, mostly." The Hyena begins to trim his chin. "You know what he is like...er, WAS like. Man I will never get used to that. But you know what I mean. From day one he came in here all excited about joining the arena, he was like, 'I'm gonna be the best gladiator in the biz and rise in the ranks and I can't wait for my first battle'."

"Yeah, I tend to stay away from beasts enthusiastic about murdering me eventually." Pello commented. He points to the fox's bandages, "How are you healing up by the way?"

"It still stings a bit. Blasted mad fox..." The fox rolls his shoulder with a cringe of pain. "They have me off the fighting roster for another two weeks. Can't say I can complain, it's like vacation am I right?" The fox laughs, finishing his shave and inspecting his work in the mirror.

"Plenty of time for training then. If you need to go a few rounds on the sparring match it's my off day so I got time." Pello says. The fox chuckles, "I would rather heal first. But thanks for the offer. Like I said, I have two weeks at the very least so-"

"No you don't." Pello says bluntly. "Listen. Me and Scruffy here, we are professional gladiators..." Seeing the fox's anger beginning to rise the lizard adds quickly to clarify that he is not trying to insult him, "In the sense that we do this for a living. And we get to go home after the battle. We have the option of resting up and getting ready for the next match. We might take a loss in pay, but we can actually refuse a match."

"Sometimes." The rat chimes in.

"Point is, you're not a professional gladiator. Your a convict working off your sentence. You go fight when you are told to regardless if you are walking around on a freshly severed leg or not. In fact the only reason you are out here, with the rest of us, and not locked up in some cage being fed a bowl of gruel once per day is because someone in the arena thinks you can last long enough in the games to make them some money."

"You got enough victories to get noticed by the higher muckity mucks." The scruffy rat Scruffy says.

"I fail to see how this is a bad thing." The fox says flatly.

Pello rubs his eyes, trying to find the best way to dumb this down in terms simple enough for the beast to understand. "Ok...let me put it this way. You get food to fill your belly, wine, a soft bed and you are allowed to roam about the arena, right? That's not because they think you are talented. They think you are talented 'enough' to start facing tougher opponents."

"We are trying to tell you that you are most likely going to fight seasoned gladiators soon. Like us." Scruff says pointedly, "We would rather not completely destroy you when that time comes."

Rolling his eyes backward the fox stands up, stretching as much as his injuries allow. The pot bellied beast gives them both a hearty laugh. "Right, well when the time comes you both just worry 'bout yerselves. Then we will see who destroys who." Picking up his belongings the fox exits the room blissfully unaware of the annoyed glares both gladiators give him.

"You try to do something nice and fight fair..." Scruff shakes his head. Turning to Pello he hesitates for a moment, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Two games."

"Eh, I think he can last three more." The lizard shrugs at the quizzical glance the rat gives him. "Call me an optimist." Finishing pulling on his jerkin the lizard stands to his full height. He half waves half salutes Scruffy before heading out. Knowing his luck the lizard would end up fighting the nitwit of a fox. And given Pello's reputation for how he finishes his opponents off...the lizard cringes. He hates the taste of fox...