No seriously, this time it is personal.Why? Because the first time I participated in the Lucky 7 Meme about a month ago, I was never actually tagged by anyone, I just did it on my own.
What? He wasn't tagged? He wasn't tagged! Fake! Fraud! He's a witch! Burn him!
Please don't burn me at the stake (I weigh much more than a duck). I was new to this whole blogging thing and just wanted to fit in.
This time I was tagged by the lovely Veronica Sicoe at Building Character.
We all know the rules by now so let's get to it. Last time I posted 7 paragraphs from page 77 of my epic fantasy WIP "Sol of a Gladiator". This time I'm posting the first 7 paragraphs from my first fight scene. Enjoy!
The Coliseumthrobbed. It was as if the massive structure had a pulse, a pulse with a name. Thethousands of spectators that packed the stands had enjoyed the earlier carnagebut it was now time for the main events; time for the champion fighters toemerge from the bowels of the coliseum to be pitted against man or beast. The sandy floor was already stained with the blood of the fallen and the throngchanted the name of the one that they would have add to it. Sol, Sol, Sol. Slow and steady, almost somber like a funeral march the namerepeated. Amplified by the deep stone bowl of the coliseum, the sound wasdeafening. Blocks away babies awoke crying in their cribs as thesurrounding city shook with it. Down in the lowest dungeons carved intothe living stone beneath the coliseum, fighters stirred in their bunks. The animal handlers backed away from the massive cages, whips cracking, tryingto subdue the beasts driven mad by the sound. Ladies of society high intheir shaded luxury boxes covered their ears while casting disparaging looksdown upon those from whom the chant sounded, but still it continued. In the whole of it there was only one that was oblivious to the throb. Crouched in the dark at the foot of the gate between the coliseum floor and oneof the many tunnels that lead to the dungeons, the gladiator himself was toodeeply immersed in concentration to give any heed to the din. It likelywould have been lost on him anyway. After all, for the thousands whochanted his name, this was all a spectacle of pleasurable entertainment. For him it was a matter of survival. The armor clad figure rested on bended knee in the dirt awaiting the opening ofthe gate. The two guards standing a dozen paces behind him had given himno weapon this time so he held his empty hands clasped on his thigh. Hishead was bowed and eyes shut tight as he contemplated the first crucial momentsafter the gates opening. It was true that Sol was strong, but there were stronger. He was fast,but there were faster. There were those that were smarter or even bettertrained for combat, although not many. Sol was a successful fighter for anumber of reasons but one thing stood out, adaptability. He had theuncanny ability to take in a situation at a glance, decide what tools wereavailable to him, and act without hesitation. It was something youcouldn’t teach and few had it. Sol knew from experience that the first few moments after the gate opened werethe most crucial of the fight. Many questions had to be answered andanswered fast. Man or beast? How many? Armed with what? What’s the available cover? These questions and more had to be answered,answered well, and usually answered at a dead run to have a chance at stayingalive. Each time he emerged from the tunnels he faced a newchallenge. The lone rule of the coliseum was that the crowd got what thecrowd wanted. And since the crowd demanded novelty the promoters went togreat lengths to satisfy. Exotic animals were brought in from the far corners of the constantly expandingEmpire. Many times they were pumped full of stimulants or narcoticsbefore entering the arena making them crazed and unpredictable. Elaboratebattle scenarios played out complete with detailed props and scenery. With a different horror awaiting him each time the gate opened, a fighter couldtake nothing for granted. Every appearance had to be approached with anopen mind so as not to be caught off guard.
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