You make me feel like I'm some kind of OWF celebrity! Leave that up to Max, Nate, Xavier and those guys. I'm privileged to be in their digital presence.
Anyhow, new story, new character.
CHAPTER ONE
Another day at the arena.
Fangus Klot flexed his tight muscles and watched the ripples of power run down his arm. Once upon a time, he would have thought the sight impressive. But after days, weeks, even months of captivity, having strong muscles was simply a sign of slavery. Only the ones who had to work hard every day could cultivate muscles like these.
It was a totally backwards society these Vamps had. The muscular were seen as the low-class, because the high-class people could afford technology to do everything for them and had almost no muscles.
But the Vamps had no need of muscles. Vamps had a different body structure than Fanguses did, allowing them to perform unOddworldly feats with arms the size of sticks. Klot found it embarrassing when a being a quarter of his weight could defeat him.
But the Vamps wanted Klot. Not because of his muscles, but because of his fierce fighting spirit. The Vamps—conquerors of the entire southern hemisphere—only killed their enemies in battle, but because they desired to see some sport, they took the strongest of the conquered peoples and trained them to fight against enormous beasts taken from the plains of Vamprah, the Vamps’ native country. These “gladiator battles,” as they were named, were the epitome of excellent entertainment in Vamp terms.
Klot was the best of the best gladiators, because he, unlike the others, had a will to live.
All the other gladiators—tough members of other species, including Sligs, Mudokons, Steef, Gloktogi, and Chroniclers—cowered in the shadow of the Vamps’ iron will, and though they did well in the arena, they eventually lost the will to live and let themselves die.
Not Klot. He knew that someday, somehow, someway, something would happen that would free all the captives from the might of the Vamps…but that day couldn’t be today. Today, the Vamps’ star had risen high and his was being ground in the mud of the arena.
He walked down the hallway toward the Pit Entrance, head held high, shoulders thrown back proudly. He was the greatest gladiator in the Vamp Empire, and he knew it.
He just needed to make sure everyone else was aware of that, too.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The Vamp voice echoed through the Gladiator Complex with the usual soft lull. “Welcome to the greatest gladiatorial match of all time. The match today features Klot, the famous Fangus gladiator, in combat against the granddaddy of all monsters.”
Klot felt a chill run through his bones at these words, but he did not stop walking toward the door, nor did he let any of his anxiety show on his face. He was Klot. He was powerful.
“Klot versus the Zyxlag!”
Klot reached the Pit Entrance; one blow of his fist smashed the lock, and the door swung open. He stepped into the light of the arena floor.
The floor of the pit was hard and unforgiving rock; he had skinned knees, elbows, and face on this floor many more times than he could count. Around the top edges of the pits were the grandstands: hundreds of the most privileged of Vamps gathered around, hissing their approval for the famous gladiator.
Klot threw back his head and roared.
The crowd hissed louder, cheering for his display of power.
A Vamp appeared out of the door behind him. Vamps stood an average of eight feet tall, extremely lanky and thin as bones, their skin a dark brown covered in grayish-brown fur which they kept trimmed to an acceptable level. Their faces were stretched into snouts, and their mouths were full of amazingly sharp teeth built for tearing meat.
The Vamp held two items in his hands: Klot’s six-barrelled repeater pistol, and a sword.
Klot took the weapons wordlessly. The sword he attached to the magnet on his back baldric, while the pistol he took in a two-handed grip, aiming it down at the floor.
“Steady,” he said. “Nothing to fear.”
At ten feet tall, he was taller than most Vamps, and far, far stockier. He was a lot like a Steef in composition, except he only had two thick legs as opposed to the Steefs’ four skinny ones. Five feet across the chest, his muscles would have made any female Klot faint with enthusiasm. He wore nothing but a tattered kilt that fell to his knees, and a broad-brimmed hat that kept his face hidden in shadow from the Vamp television cameras surrounding the ring.
He focused his attention on the huge barred gate at the other end of the pit. So he was to fight the Zyxlag, was he? The largest and most deadly monster in all of Vamprah, its name was a curse and its legacy was a legend.
But Klot was not afraid.
Fear was not a part of him.
“Release the Zyxlag!” the Vamp announcer called.
The gate opened.
* * *
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Master of ellipsis...
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cant wait,contact nate if you want to speak to lorne
